"Well, now, I gotta admit we aren't quite out of the woods. We need more
capital to work with, but after tonight we'll have it. Remember that
Brinks job up in New England a long time ago? Well, we got something
lined up even bigger. I work with Larry and his boys to pull it. Then
there's another thing cooking that Whitely's been keeping tabs on. It
looks like IBM is going to split its stock, three for one. I gotta
attend their next secret executive meeting and find out. If they do, we
buy in just before, see? We buy on margin, buy options, all that sort of
jazz. Whitely knows all about it. Then we got another big deal in
Washington. Looks like the government might devaluate the dollar.
Whitely explained it to me, kind of. Anyway, I got to sit in on a
conference the President's gonna have. If they really decide to devalue,
then Whitely and me, we go ahead and put every cent we got into Swiss
gold. Then the day after devaluation, we switch it all back into dollars
again. Double our money. Oh, we got all sorts of angles, Doc."
"By Caesar," Braun ejaculated. "You seem to have."
* * *
Patricia had poured herself some coffee and was sipping it, black, even
as she stared at him. "But, Don, what do you need all this money for?
You already have more than plenty. Why not call it all off. Get out from
under."
Ross grunted, "Too late, Pat. Can't you see? He's got the power urge
already."
Crowley ignored him and turned to her, pouring more coffee and cognac
for himself. "I'm not running up all this dough just for me. You think
you're the only one's got ideals, like? Let me tell you, I might just be
a country boy but I got ambitions to put some things right in this
world."
"Such as...." Patricia prodded, bitterness in her voice.
"Aw, we went through all that the other day. The thing is, now it's
really under way. If you was seeing the newspapers these days, you'd
know about the Common Man Party."
"Oh, oh," Ross muttered unhappily.
"It's just getting under way," Crowley said modestly, "but we're hiring
two of the top Madison Avenue outfits to handle publicity and we're
recruiting some of the best practical politicians in the field."
"Practical politicians!" Ross snorted. "Types like Huey Long, McCarthy,
Pendergast, I suppose."
The other misunderstood him. "Yeah, and even better. We're going in big
for TV time, full-page ads in the newspapers and magazines. That sort of
thing. The average man's getting tired of the same old talk from the
Republicans and Democrats. Paul Teeter thinks we might have a chance in
the next election, given enough dough to plow into it."
Ross leaned back disdainfully. "What a combination. Whitely, the broker
who has been barred from activity on Wall Street; Teeter, the crooked
politician, but with connections from top to bottom; and Larry, whatever
his name is...."
"Morazzoni," Crowley supplied. "You know where I first ran into his
name? In one of them true crime magazines. He's a big operator."
"I'll bet he is," the redhead growled. "Probably with good Mafia
connections. I'm surprised you haven't attempted to take over that
outfit."
Crowley laughed abruptly. "We're working on that, pal. Just take it easy
and all these things will work their way out. But meanwhile I didn't
bring you jokers here to make snide remarks. I got work for you. I'm
fresh out of that serum and you three are going to brew me up another
batch."
They looked at him, Dr. Braun, Ross Wooley, Patricia O'Gara, their faces
registering stubbornness, revolt and dismay.
He shook his head. "Larry and some of his boys have experience. I gotta
admit, I wouldn't even want to watch."
"I'm for standing firm," Braun said stiffly. "There are but three of us.
The most they can do is kill us. But if this man's insanity is released
on the world...."
Crowley was shaking his head in deprecation. "Like when you say the
worst we can do is kill you. Man, haven't you heard about the Nazis and
commies and all? You oughta read some of the men's adventure magazines.
How do you think Joe Stalin got all them early Bolsheviks to confess?
You think they weren't tough buzzards? Why make us go to all the
trouble, when you'd just cave in eventually anyway? Save yourself the
grief."
Patricia said impatiently, "He's right, I'm afraid. I would collapse
rather quickly under physical coercion. You might last a bit longer,
Ross possibly longer still. But in the end we would concede."
Crowley said, as though in amazement, "You know, eggheads aren't as
stupid as some would reckon. O.K., folks, I got a laboratory all fixed
up with your things. Let's go. Ah, Ross, old pal, I'm carrying heat, as
Larry would say, so let's don't have any trouble, eh?"
He had been as good as his word in regards to the laboratory. It was
obviously one of the rooms used by the staff when the place had been a
sanitarium. Now, each of the three had all the equipment and supplies
they required.
Crowley took a seat at the far end of the room, facing them. There had
been a guard outside the door when they entered and a call would bring
him in seconds. Even so, Crowley sat in such wise that his right hand
was ready to plunge inside his coat to the gun that evidently was
holstered there. He said, "O.K., folks, let's get about it."
* * *
It took them half an hour or so to sort out those materials each needed
in his own contribution to the end product.
Their captor looked at his watch impatiently. "Let's get a move on,
here. I thought this was going to take a few minutes."