Memoirs Of An Invisible Man by H.F. Saint Page B

the brief time I knew him, he seemed continuously startled, always looking about with nervous little inquisitive movements of his head, as if he were some giant squirrel searching for a place to store nuts. His jumpy gaze darted back and forth between us, but he seemed understandably to be particularly taken with Anne, and his eves kept returning to her breasts.
    “You wouldn’t be Dr. Wachs, would you?” I asked.
    “Yes, yes, I am. How do you do?” He spoke with extraordinary rapidity, shifting his weight constantly from one foot to the other.
    “I’m Nick Halloway, with Shipway and Whitman. The investment firm.”
    “Oh, you’re just the person I want to see. I’m very interested right now in money. Capitalization—”
    “Professor Wachs,” called out the receptionist ominously, “these people—”
    “And this,” I went on, “is Anne Epstein from the
Times.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful that you were able to be here. The
Times.
Come in, come in. I think you’re going to be very excited by the work we’re doing here.” He gazed intently at Anne’s breasts. “Is there anything I can tell you—”
    “Professor Wachs,” insisted the receptionist, “it’s very late. You have to—”
    “Yes, yes, that’s right. We can’t spend more than a moment now. Come in for just a moment. You say you’re with an investment bank? Raising capital is our first priority. While I’ve got you here, maybe I can get you to recommend a good book on that.”
    “Perhaps it would be more useful to sit down and talk about your capital needs sometime when—”
    “Professor Wachs.” The receptionist was still glowering in the doorway behind us. “It’s almost time. You have to—”
    “Amazing facility you have here,” I said to Wachs as I shut the door behind me in the face of the receptionist. “Really very impressive — far more extensive than I ever would have imagined.”
    He seemed pleased. “Yes, you know I designed the whole thing myself. There was nothing here but an old farmhouse. I mean with the builder— Fucini Brothers, Builders. They’re very good — if you’re ever thinking of doing anything. Very good. It’s extraordinary how complex a structure even the simplest building is. Fascinating. They built all of Kirby Park,” he added by way of explanation.
    “Did they really?” I responded. I had no idea what or where Kirby Park might be, but I thought I should try to gain some sort of tenuous handhold on the conversation. “Did you design the logo yourself too?”
    “Yes. What do you think of it?” he asked earnestly.
    “Extremely compelling. My compliments,” I replied.
    “You don’t think it looks like an M&M?” There was a troubled expression on his face.
    “An M&M?” I asked blankly.
    “Yes. You know — the little round candies.”
    “Oh, of course: M&M’s… Does it remind me of M&M’s? … No. Is it meant to?” I asked earnestly
    “No, no, no. I only wondered if it looked like that to you. Something someone said.” He seemed reassured by my response.
    “The whole effect is really quite striking,” I assured him. “The corporate name in red letters, the logo, the columned facade. And the trees,” I added as an afterthought.
    “The trees. Extraordinary, the trees. We were able to save most of the trees. No need at this stage to get rid of the trees. Wait. I want you to see… If you come over here, I can show you the view I have from my desk. You see that beech tree?” He was hopping around the desk excitedly. I did as I was told and went to his desk to stare out the window at the vast copper beech, but he was already chattering on to other topics.
    “Here’s something that would interest you, Nick. I designed this telephone myself. Far beyond anything on the market. It automatically stores the last five numbers you’ve dialed. Up to twenty digits—”
    “I know you’re terribly busy today,” I said, “but I just wondered if we could get some information