by Fritz Leiber
anything more until Daddy getshere, anyway," she said.
Which was when the phone rang.
"I have an idea that's for me," Steve said.
The screen lit up and LaVerne Polk said, "Call for Steve Hackett, Larry."
Larry pushed the phone around so Steve could look into it. LaVerne flickedoff and was replaced by a stranger in uniform. Steve said, "Yeah?"
The cop said, "He's flown the coop, sir. Must have got out just minutesbefore we arrived. Couldn't have taken more than a suitcase. Few papersscattered around the room he used for an office."
Susan gasped, "You mean Daddy?"
Steve Hackett rubbed a hand over his flattened nose. "Holy Smokes," hesaid. He thanked the cop and flicked off.
Larry said, "Look Zusanette, everything's going to be all right. Nothingwill happen to you. You say you managed to pick up two packets of all thismoney they have at headquarters. O.K. So you thought it wouldn't be missedand you've always wanted to spend money the way you see the stars do onTriD and in the movies."
She looked at him, taken back. "How did you know?"
Larry said dryly, "I've always wanted to myself. But I would like to knowone more thing. The Movement. What was it going to do with all thismoney?"
That evidently puzzled her. "The Professor said they were going to spendit on chorus girls. I guess ... I guess he was joking or something. ButDaddy and I'd just been up to New York and we saw those famous precisiondancers at the New Roxy Theatre and all and then when we got back theProfessor and Daddy were talking and I heard him say it."
Steve said, carefully, "Professor who?"
Susan said, "Just the Professor. That's all we ever call him." Her chinwent to trembling still again.
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Larry summed it up for the Boss later.
His chief scoffed his disbelief. "The child is full of dreams, Lawrence.It comes from seeing an over-abundance of these TriD shows. I have a girlthe same age. I don't know what is happening to the country. They have nosense of reality."
Larry Woolford said mildly, "Well, she might be full of nonsense, but shedid have the fifties, and she's our only connection with whoever printedthem whether it's a movement to overthrow the government, or what."
The Boss said tolerantly, "Movement, indeed. Obviously, her fatherproduced them and she purloined a quantity before he was ready to attemptto pass them. Have you a run down on him yet?"
"Susan Self says her father, Ernest Self, is an inventor. Steve Hackett isworking on locating him."
"He's an inventor indeed. Evidently, he has invented a perfectcounterfeiting device. However, that is the Secret Service's headache, notours. Do you wish to resume that vacation of yours, Lawrence?"
His operative twisted his face in a grimace. "Sure, I do, but I'm nothappy about this, sir. What happens if there really is an organization, aMovement, like she said? That brings it back under our jurisdiction,anti-subversion."
The other shook his head tolerantly. "See here, Lawrence, when you beginscheming a social revolution you can't plan on an organization composed ofa small number of persons who keep their existence secret. In spite ofwhat a good many persons seem to believe, revolutions are not accomplishedby handfuls of conspirators hiding in cellars and eventually overthrowingsociety by dramatically shooting the President, or King, or Czar, orwhoever. Revolutions are precipitated by masses of people. People who haveample cause to be against whatever the current government happens to be.Usually, they are on the point of actual starvation. Have you ever readMachiavelli?"
Niccolo Machiavelli was currently _the thing_ to read. Larry said with acertain dignity, "I've gone through 'The Prince,' the 'Discourses' andcurrently I'm amusing myself with his 'History of Florence.' "
"Anybody who can amuse himself reading Machiavelli," the Boss said dryly,"has a macabre sense of humor. At any rate, what I was alluding to waswhere he stated that the Prince cannot rule indefinitely in the face ofthe active opposition of his people. Therefore, the people always get agovernment that lies within the limits of their tolerance. It may be onone edge or the other of their limits of tolerance--but it's always withintheir tolerance zone."
Larry frowned and said, "Well, what's your point, sir?"
The Boss said patiently, "I'm just observing that cultures aren'toverthrown by little handfuls of secret conspirators. You might eliminatea few individuals in that manner, in other words change the personnel ofthe government, but you aren't going to alter a socio-economic system.That can't be done until your people have been pushed outside their limitsof tolerance. Very well then. A revolutionary organization must get outand propagandize. It has got to convince the people that they are beingpushed beyond endurance. You have got to get the _masses_ to moving. Youhave to give speeches, print newspapers, books, pamphlets, you have got tosend your organizers out to intensify interest in your program."
Larry said, "I see what you mean. If this so-called Movement actuallyexisted it couldn't expect to get anywhere as long as remained secret."
The Boss nodded. "That is correct. The _leaders_ of a revolutionarymovement might be intellectuals, social scientists, scholars--in fact theyusually are--take our own American Revolution with Jefferson, Madison,Franklin, Washington. Or the French Revolution with Robespierre, Danton,Marat, Engels and Lenin. All were well educated intellectuals from themiddle class. But the revolution itself, once it starts, comes from below,from the mass of people pushed beyond tolerance."
It came to Lawrence Woolford that his superior had achieved to hisprominent office not through any fluke. He knew what he was talking about.
The Boss wound it up. "If there was such an organization as this Movement,then this department would know about it. You don't keep a revolutionarymovement secret. It doesn't make sense to even try. Even if it is forcedunderground, it makes as much noise as it can."
His trouble shooter cleared his throat. "I suppose you're right, sir." Headded hesitantly. "We could always give Susan Self a few drops ofScop-Serum, sir."
The Boss scowled disapprovingly. "You know how the Supreme Court ruled onthat, Lawrence. And particularly since the medics revealed its effect onreducing sexual inhibitions. No, Mr. Hackett and Secret Service will haveto get the truth out of the girl by some other means. At any rate, it isout of our hands."
Larry came to his feet. "Well, then, I'll resume my vacation, eh?"
His chief took up a report from his desk an frowned at it, his attentionalready passing to other matters. He grunted, "Clear it with LaVerne,please. Tell her I said to take another week to make up for our intrudingon you in this manner."
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In the back of his head, Larry Woolford had misgivings. For one thing,where had the kid, who on the face of her performance was no great braineven as sixteen or seventeen old's go, picked up such ideas as the factthat people developed prejudices against words like revolution andpropaganda?
However, he was clear of it now. Let Steve Hackett and his people takeover. He, Lawrence Woolford, was due for a quick return to Astor, Floridaand the bass fishing on the St. John's River.
He stopped at LaVerne's desk and gave her his address to be, now that hisvacation was resumed.
She said, smiling up at him. "Right. The boss already told me to get intouch with Secret Service and let them know we're pulling out. Whathappened to Susan Self?"
Larry looked at her. "How'd you know about Susan?"
Her tone was deprecating. "Remember? You had me cut some tapes on you andthat hulking Steve Hackett grilling the poor kid."
Larry snorted. "Poor kid, yet. With her tastes for living-it-up, and thatfather she has, she'll probably spend the rest of her life getting inSteve's hair as a counterfeit pusher."
"What are they going to do with her? She's just a child."
The agent shrugged. "I feel sorry for her, too, LaVerne. Steve's got herin a suite at the Greater Washington Hilton, until things are clear
ed up.They don't want the newspapers to get wind of this until they've got thatinventor father of hers and whatever he's cooked up to turn out perfectreproductions of Uncle Sam's money. Look, I won't be leaving untiltomorrow. What'd you say we go out on the town tonight?"
"Why, Larry Woolford! How nice of you to ask me. Poor Little, Non-U me.What do you have in mind? I understand Mort Lenny's at one of the nightclubs."
Larry winced. "You know what he's been saying about the administration."
She smiled sweetly at him.
Larry said, "Look,
