"No, of course you don't or you wouldn't be participating in a
subversive attack upon our economy, which, if successful, would lead to
the collapse of Western prosperity and eventually to the success of the
Soviet Complex."
Mr. Flowers gobbled a bit, then gulped.
"I'll spell it out for you," Tracy pursued. "In the early days of
capitalism, back when Marx and Engels were writing such works as
_Capital_, the overwhelming majority of the working class were employed
directly in production. For a long time it was quite accurate when the
political cartoonists depicted a working man as wearing overalls and
carrying a hammer or wrench. In short, employees who got their hands
dirty, outnumbered those who didn't.
"But with the coming of increased mechanization and eventually
automation and the second industrial revolution, more and more employees
went into sales, the so-called service industries, advertising and
entertainment which has become largely a branch of advertising,
distribution, and, above all, government which in this bureaucratic age
is largely a matter of regulation of business and property
relationships. As automation continued, fewer and fewer of our people
were needed to produce all the commodities that the country could
assimilate under our present socio-economic system. And I need only
point out that the average American _still_ enjoys more material things
than any other nation, though admittedly the European countries, and I
don't exclude the Soviet Complex, are coming up fast."
Flowers said indignantly, "But what's this charge that I'm participating
in a subversive--"
"Mr. Flowers," Tracy overrode him, "let's not descend to pure maize in
our denials of the obvious. If this outfit of yours, Freer Enterprises,
was successful in its fondest dreams, what would happen?"
"Why, the consumers would be able to buy commodities at a fraction of
the present cost!"
Tracy half came to his feet and pounded the table with fierce emphasis.
"_What would they buy them with? They'd all be out of jobs!_"
Frederic Flowers bug-eyed him.
Tracy sat down again and seemingly regained control of himself. His
voice was softer now. "Our social system may have its strains and
tensions, Mr. Flowers, but it works and we don't want anybody throwing
wrenches in its admittedly delicate machinery. Advertising is currently
one of the biggest industries of the country. The entertainment
industry, admittedly now based on advertising, is gigantic. Our
magazines and newspapers, employing hundreds of thousands of employees
from editors right on down to newsstand operators, are able to exist
only through advertising revenue. Above all, millions of our population
are employed in the service industries, and in distribution, in the
stock market, in the commodity markets, in all the other branches of
distribution which you Freer Enterprises people want to pull down. A
third of our working force is now unemployed, but given your way, it
would be at least two thirds."
Flowers, suddenly suspicious, said, "What has all this to do with the
Department of Internal Revenue, Mr. Tracy?"
Tracy came to his feet and smiled ruefully, albeit a bit grimly.
"Nothing," he admitted. "I have nothing at all to do with that
department. Here is my real card, Mr. Flowers."
The Freer Enterprises man must have felt a twinge of premonition even as
he took it up, but the effect was still enough to startle him. "Bureau
of Economic Subversion!" he said.
"Now then," Tracy snapped. "I want the names of your higher ups, and the
address of your central office, Flowers. Frankly, you're in the soup. As
you possibly know, our hush-hush department has unlimited emergency
powers, being answerable only to the President."
"I ... I've never even heard of it." Flowers stuttered. "But--"
Tracy held up a contemptuous hand. "Many people haven't," he said
curtly.
* * * * *
Frank Tracy hurried through the outer office into LaVerne Sandell's
domain, and bit out to her, "Tell the Chief I'm here. Crisis. And
immediately get my team together, all eight of them. Heavy equipment.
Have a jet readied. Chicago. The team will rendezvous at the airport."
LaVerne was just as crisp. "Yes, sir." She began doing things with
buttons and switches.
Tracy hurried into the Chief's office and didn't bother with the usual
amenities. He snapped, "Worse than I thought, sir. This outfit is
possibly openly subversive. Deliberately undermining the economy."
His superior put down the report he was perusing and shifted his bulk
backward. "You're sure? We seldom run into such extremes."
"I know, I know, but this could be it. Possibly a deliberate program.
I've taken the initiative to have Miss Sandell summon my team."
"Now, see here, Frank--" The bureau head looked at him anxiously.
Tracy said, impatience there, "Chief, you're going to have to let your
field men use their discretion. I tell you, this thing is a potential
snowball. I'll play it cool. Arrange things so that there'll be no
scandal for the telly-reporters. But we've got to chill this one
quickly, or it'll be on a coast to coast basis before the year is out.
They're even talking about going into automobiles."
The Chief winced, then said unhappily, "All right, Tracy. However, mind
what I said. Curb those roughnecks of yours."
* * *
It proved considerably easier than Frank Tracy had hoped for. Adam
Moncure's national headquarters turned out to be in a sparsely settled
area not far from Woodstock, Illinois. The house, in the passé ranch
style, must have once been a millionaire's baby, what with an artificial
fishing lake in the back, a kidney shaped swimming pool, extensive
gardens and an imposing approach up a corridor of trees.
"Right up to the front door," Tracy growled to the operative driving the
first hover-car of their two-vehicle expedition. "The quicker we move,
the better." He turned his head to the men in the rear seat. "We five
will go in together. I don't expect trouble, they'll have had no advance
warning. I made sure of that. Jerry has equipment in his car to blanket
any radio sending. We'll take care of phones in the house. No rough
stuff, we want to talk to these people."