"It's routine," he said absently. "The brain of a mob is no larger than
that of its minimum member. Any disciplined group, almost no matter how
small can model it to order."
"Just in case we don't have the opportunity to get together again, what
happens at the hall meeting of ringleaders? What do Jake, Cliff and I
do?"
"What comes naturally," Homer said. "We'll elect each other to the most
important positions. But everybody else that seems to have anything at
all on the ball will be elected to some committee or other. Give them
jobs compiling reports to El Hassan or something. Keep them busy. Give
Reunited Nations headquarters in Dakar time to come up with something."
She said worriedly, "Suppose some of these ringleaders are capable,
aggressive types and won't stand for us getting all the important
positions?"
Crawford grunted. "We're _more_ aggressive and more capable. Let my team
handle that. One of the boys will jump up and accuse the guy of being a
spy and an enemy of El Hassan, and one of the other boys will bear him
out, and a couple of others will hustle him out of the hall." Homer
yawned. "It's all routine, Isobel."
Abe was driving up the truck.