Heck stood there, staring blankly. He was near no door. He could not summon his will to vanish via teleportation. He would have to learn how to master that.
"Finch, what are you doing here?"
What Heck was doing there was not at all obvious. But what Amos Weatherby and the blonde had been doing was obvious. Weatherby seemed to be in a rumpled state, hair, clothing, general appearance. The blonde's off-the-shoulder gown was considerably further off the shoulder than it should have been. Cocktail glasses were scattered about. There was a bottle of champagne in an urn.
Last night she made a play for me, Heck thought. Tonight, the boss. Well, the ex-boss. It came to Heck that it might all be Jason Spooner's idea, and that seemed as good a way out as any. It's like selling, he thought. I sold Patty the idea that she was dreaming, didn't I? Selling was one part luck, one part determination and one part figuring out what the potential customer thought he wanted and tieing that in with what you had to sell.
"Listen, boss," Heck said. "This dame made a play for me last night. Now it's you. I wonder how much Jason Spooner is paying her?"
"That's a lie!" the blonde cried. "He made a drunken pass at me last night and I told him to try again on somebody else. This is his revenge."
"Boss," said Heck, "don't you see? Either Spooner wants to get some trade secrets on next year's models or else he—he wants to put you in a compromising spot. Why—why any minute," Heck improvised, "a photographer might rush in here and start shooting pictures. What a way to discredit Weatherby, Inc! After all, you're a family man, and you can't take—"
Even as Heck spoke, a photographer suddenly came into the room. Through the walls? wondered Heck in dismay. No, he had merely materialized, as Heck had done.
With camera and strobe unit he walked purposefully across the room. "Right here, boss?" he demanded. The others did not know this, but he was addressing Heck. Apparently Heck had summoned him, via teleportation. He was part of Heck's new company, all donated by the man with the big head, like the cards, and the warehouse.