About twenty minutes after MacLean went out, a knock came on Dr. Benson’s door. “Come in!” said the doctor, not bothering to look up from his computer.
General Karasov came through the door, not in full dress uniform but still in military fatigues. “Dobryj dyen', Doctor,” he rumbled, as he walked in and seated himself in the black chair. “How goes your investigation?”
“Slowly,” said Benson, still looking at his computer screen and typing. “I think I’ve got MacLean pinned; he’s a rambler, one of those lonely people who has a lot to say but doesn’t volunteer anything until he’s asked a question. Asking the right questions means he’ll talk for hours. I’m certain he knows a lot, maybe even more than he thinks he does, but it tends to get interspersed with anecdotes about his life and work.”
“I see. Have there been other problems?”
“A few. Getting his meds balanced to the point where he’s docile, but still sensible, hasn’t been easy. Today he got upset when I asked him about Foundation counselors, and I think that may demand a slight increase to his dosage. On top of that, he’s got the impression that we know more about him than he knows about us, and it’s not always easy to keep the illusion up.”
“You do not know what he speaks of?”
“I’m learning. I should warn you, though, MacLean seems pretty sure he can’t give us numbers. I don’t think he’s lying.”
Karasov made a noise in his throat that might have been a grumble. “That is disappointing, doctor. So what do you talk about during these interviews, if not about the Foundation’s…” he paused, searching for a word, “…capacities?” Benson looked up from the computer, glanced at his recorder, then stared at Karasov with an unspoken question in his eyes. Karasov shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have too little time to listen to the recordings.”
Benson went back to looking at his screen. “Right now, I’m mostly asking general questions. I think the best way to handle MacLean is to build up a rapport with him, some connection that will last despite his… mental state… and save the questions on specific things for when he trusts me more. Plus, once he starts monologuing he tends to reveal a lot of leads to follow up on later.”
Karasov sniffed. “You are patient, doctor. With as much time as you have had to talk, I think I would ask him less about his… biography, and more about his Foundation.” Benson frowned and looked at Karasov. “Do not worry, doctor. You are still free to manage this traitor as you like. However, I should warn you, we must move soon. There are more people watching this building than is normal, and we are to begin preparing for departure later today.”
Benson started and stared at the general, eyes wide. “What? Why? What happened?”
Karasov shrugged again as he stood up. “We are not sure, but we suspect the Foundation has found us and may want MacLean back. They probably will not attack, but we are not taking chances. I think you should pack.”
“MacLean should not be transported right now. His psyche is very delicate, and I don’t think he’ll respond well to a change of scenery.”
“That is your problem, doctor.” Karasov moved to the door and held it open as he looked back. “It will be much worse for MacLean and for you if we stay. Goodnight, doctor.” Karasov stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Benson breathed out and started writing a memo to the staff nurse. If MacLean had to travel, it would probably be best if he did it in a drug-induced sleep.
