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hirelings. Actually, there were tworiots. First, there was one the Independents had planned for about aweek in advance; that was the one Sforza tipped us on, the one thatstarted in China. Graves knew about it, enough to advise Latterman toget all the Literates out of the store before noon, which Lattermandid, with trimmings.
"Then, there was another riot, masterminded by a couple ofIlliterates' Organization Action Committee people named Joe West andHorace Yingling, both deceased. That was the result of Latterman'sbright idea to trap Claire and/or me into betraying Literacy. TheseIlliterate fanatics made up their minds, to speak rather loosely, thatthe whole Pelton family were Literates, including Chet himself. Theydecided that it was better to kill off their candidate and use him fora martyr two years from now than to elect him and have him sell themout. They got about a hundred or so of their goons dressed inIndependent-Conservative KKK costumes, bought air support from PatsyCallazo's mob, up in Vermont, and made that attack on the top landingstage, after starting a fake riot in North Jersey, to draw off theregular Radical-Socialist storm troops. Incidentally, when I found outit was Callazo's gang that furnished those fighter bombers, I hiredanother mob to go up and drop a block-buster on Callazo's field, toteach him to keep his schnozzle out of politics."
Lancedale nodded briskly. "That I approve of. How about West andYingling?"
"Prestonby's muscle man, Yetsko, killed West. I took care of ComradeYingling, myself, after I'd gotten reinforcements to the store--firsta couple of free-lance storm troops that the insurance company hired,and then as many of the Radical Rangers as I could gather up."
"And Pelton knows about all this?"
"He certainly does! After this caper, the Illiterates' Organization'sthrough, as far as any consideration or patronage from the Radicals isconcerned."
"Well, that's pretty nearly the best thing I've heard out of the wholebusiness," Lancedale said. "In about eight or ten years, we may wantto pull the Independent-Conservative party together again, to cash inon public dissatisfaction with Pelton's socialized Literacy program,which ought to be coming apart at the seams by then. And if we havethe Illiterates split into two hostile factions--"
Cardon finished his coffee. "Well, chief, I've got to be gettingalong. O'Reilly can only cover me for a short while, and I have to begetting to this victory party of Pelton's--"
Lancedale rose and shook hands with him. "I can't tell you, too manytimes, what a fine job you did, Frank," he said. "I hope ... no,knowing you, I'm positive ... that you'll be able to engineer areconciliation between Pelton and his son and daughter and youngPrestonby. And then, have yourself a good vacation."
"I mean to. I'm going deer hunting, to a place up in the mountains,along the old Pennsylvania-New York state line. A little community ofabout a thousand people, where everybody, men, women and children, canread."
Lancedale was interested. "A community of Literates?"
Cardon shook his head. "Not Literates-with-a-big-L; just people whocan read and write," he replied. "It's a kind of back-eddy sort ofplace, and I imagine, a couple of hundred years ago, the community wastoo poor to support one of these 'progressive' school systems thatmade Illiterates out of the people in the cities. Probably couldn'traise enough money in school taxes to buy all the expensiveaudio-visual equipment, so they had to use old-fashioned textbooks,and teach the children to read from them. They have radios, and TV, ofcourse, but they also have a little daily paper, and they have acommunity library."
Lancedale was thoughtful, for a moment. "You know, Frank, there mustbe quite a few little enclaves of lower-case-literacy like that, inback-woods and mountain communities, especially in the west and thesouth. I'm going to make a project of finding such communities,helping them, and getting recruits from them. They'll fit into thePlan. Well, I'll be seeing you some time tomorrow, I suppose?"
He watched Cardon go out, and then poured a glass of port for himselfand sipped slowly, holding the glass to the light and watching theruby glow it cast on the desk top. It had been over thirty years ago,when he had been old Jules de Chambord's assistant, that the Plan hadbeen first conceived. De Chambord was dead these twenty years, and hehad taken the old man's place, and they had only made the first step.Things would move faster, now, but he would still die before the Planwas completed, and Frank Cardon, whom he had marked as his successor,would be an old man, and somebody like young Ray Pelton would be readyto replace him, but the Plan would go on, until everybody would beliterate, not Literate, and illiteracy, not Illiteracy, would be amark of social stigma, and most people would live their whole liveswithout personal acquaintance with an illiterate.
There were a few years, yet, to prepare for the next step. The whitesmocks would have to go; Literates would have to sacrifice theirpaltry titles and distinctions. There would have to be are-constitution of the Fraternities. Wilton Joyner and Harvey Gravesand the other Conservative Literates would have to be convinced,emotionally as well as intellectually, of the need for change. Therewere a few of the older brothers who could never adjust theirthinking; they would have to be promoted to positions with highersalaries and more impressive titles and no authority whatever.
But that was all a matter of tactics; the younger men, like FrankCardon and Elliot Mongery and Ralph Prestonby, could take care ofthat. Certain changes would occur: A stable and peaceful order ofsociety, for one thing. A rule of law, and the liquidation of thesegoon gangs and storm troops and private armies. If a beginning at thatwere made tomorrow, using the battle at Pelton's store to mobilizepublic opinion, it would still take two decades to get anything reallysignificant done. And a renaissance of technological and scientificprogress--Today, the manufacturers changed the 'copter models twice ayear--and, except for altering the shape of a few chromium-platedexcrescences or changing the contours slightly, they were the same'copters that had been buzzing over the country at the time of theThird World War. Every month, the pharmaceutical companies announced anew wonder drug--and if it wasn't sulfa, it was penicillin, and if itwasn't penicillin it would be aureomycin. Why, most of the scientificresearch was being carried on by a few Literates in the basements of afew libraries, re-discovering the science of two centuries ago.
He sighed, and finished his port, and, as he did probably once everysix months, he re-filled the glass. He'd be seventy-two next birthday.Maybe he'd live long enough to see--
THE END