My Library

There were four "friends," and we sat around Buell's large dinner table which hadn't yet been laid out with dishes and crystal. Three were "tycoons" of some kind, if judged by their obviously expensive, but refined clothes. One wore a suit which was obviously store-bought. The "meeting," if that was what it was, went well. The principal questions seemed to be directed to my new ideas I might have about utilizing psi faculties for practical purposes. I had a lot to say about new ideas, about the deficits of conventional parapsychology approaches, about science's rejection of psi potentials. I was open, and my big mouth finally had its place. I had the idea I was talking to corporate leaders perhaps interested in setting up a "secret" project along these lines. The questions and conversations lasted one hour precisely. Then Kinzel and his "friends" went into Buell's entrance alcove and stood talking. I could smell Buell's leg of lamb perhaps getting overdone, and so I quietly went into her small kitchen to tend to it. The kitchen was just off of the entry alcove. This I overheard: "He probably won't go for plan A. He's not committed enough. I recommend switching to plan B." "He's stalwart enough to resent being caught in a pincer. He might walk once he learns the facts."