Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Analog_ December 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Subscript characters are shown within {braces}. Subversive "Subversive" is, in essence, a negative term--it means simply "against the existent system. " It doesn't mean subversives all agree . .. by Mack Reynolds Illustrated by Schoenherr The young man with the brown paper bag said, "Is Mrs. Coty in?" "I'm afraid she isn't. Is there anything I can do?" "You're Mr. Coty? I came about the soap. " He held up the paper bag. "Soap?" Mr. Coty said blankly. He was the epitome of mid-aged husbandcomplete to pipe, carpet slippers and office-slump posture. "That's right. I'm sure she told you about it. My name's Dickens. WarrenDickens. I sold her--" "Look here, you mean to tell me in this day and age you go around fromdoor to door peddling soap? Great guns, boy, you'd do better onunemployment insurance. It's permanent now. " Warren Dickens registered distress. "Mr. Coty, could I come in and tellyou about it? If I can make the first delivery to you instead of Mrs. Coty, shucks, it'll save me coming back. " Coty led him back into the living room, motioned him to a chair andsettled into what was obviously his own favorite, handily placed beforethe telly. Coty said tolerantly, "Now then, what's this about sellingsoap? What kind of soap? What brand?" "Oh, it has no name, sir. That's the point. " The other looked at him. "That's why we can sell it for three cents a cake, instead oftwenty-five. " Dickens opened the paper bag and fished out an ordinaryenough looking cake of soap and handed it to the older man. Mr. Coty took it, stared down at it, turned it over in his hands. He wasstill blank. "Well, what's different about it?" [Illustration] "There's nothing different about it. It's the same as any other soap. " "I mean, how come you sell it for three cents a cake, and what's thefact it has no name got to do with it?" Warren Dickens leaned forward and went into what was obviously astrictly routine pitch. "Mr. Coty, have you ever considered what you'rebuying when they nick you twenty-five cents on your credit card for abar of soap in an ultra-market?" There was an edge of impatience in the older man's voice. "I buy soap!" "No, sir. That's your mistake. What you buy is a telly show, in factseveral of them, with all their expensive comedians, singers, musicians, dancers, news commentators, network vice presidents, and all the rest. Then you buy fancy packaging. You'll note, by the way, that our producthasn't even a piece of tissue paper wrapped around it. Fancy packagingdesigned by some of the most competent commercial artists andmotivational research men in the country. Then you buy distribution. From the factory all the way to the retail ultra-market where your wifeshops. And every time that bar of soap goes from one wholesaler ordistributor to another, the price roughly doubles. You also buy a braintrust whose full time project is to keep you using their soap and notletting their competitors talk you into switching brands. The braintrust, of course, also works on luring away the competitor's customersto their product. Shucks, Mr. Coty, practically none of that twenty-fivecents you spend to buy a cake of soap goes for soap. So small apercentage that you might as well forget about it. " Mr. Coty was obviously taken aback. "Well, how do I know this namelesssoap you're peddling is, well, any good?" Warren Dickens sighed deeply, and in such wise that it was obvious thathe had so sighed before. "Sir, there is no difference between soaps. Oh, they might use a slightly different perfume, or tint it a slightlydifferent color, but for all practical purposes common hand soap, commonbath soap, is soap, period. All the stuff the copy writers dream upabout secret ingredients and health for your skin, and cosmeticqualities, and all the rest, is Madison Avenue gobbledygook and appliesas well to one brand as another. As a matter of fact, often twodifferent soap companies, supposedly keen competitors, and using widelydifferent advertising, have their products manufactured in the sameplant. " Mr. Coty blinked at him. Shifted in his chair. Rubbed his chin as thoughchecking his morning shave. "Well . .. Well, then where do you get _your_soap?" "The same place. We buy in fantastically large lots from one of thegigantic automated soap plants. " Mr. Coty had him now. "Ah, ha! Then how come you sell it for three centsa cake, instead of twenty-five?" "I've been telling you. Our soap doesn't even have a name, not tomention an advertising budget. Far from spending fortunes redesigningour packaging every few months in attempts to lure new customers, wedon't package the stuff at all. It comes to you, in the simplestpossible wrapping, through the mails. A new supply every month. Threecents a cake. No middlemen, no wholesalers, distributors. No nothingexcept soap at three cents a cake. " Mr. Coty leaned back in his chair. "I'll be darned. " He thought it over. "Listen, do you sell anything besides soap?" "Not right now, sir. But soap flakes are coming up next week and I thinkwe'll be going into bread in a month or two. " "Bread?" "Yes, sir, bread. Although we'll have to distribute that by truck, andhave to have almost hundred per cent coverage in a given section beforeit's practical. A nickel a loaf. " "Five cents a loaf! You can't _make_ bread for that much. " "Oh, yes we can. We can't advertise it, package it, and pay a host ofin-betweens, is all. From the bakery to you, period. " Mr. Coty seemed fascinated. He said, "See here, what's the address ofyour office?" Warren Dickens shook his head. "Sorry, sir. That's all part of it. Wehave no swanky offices with big, expensive staffs. We operate on thesmallest of shoestrings. No brain trust. No complaint department. Nopublic relations. No literature on how to beautify yourself. No nothing, except good soap at three cents a cake, plus postage. Now, if you'llsign this contract, we'll put you on our mailing list. Ten bars of soapa month, Mrs. Coty said. I brought this first supply so you could testit and see that the whole thing is bona fide. " Mr. Coty had to test it, but then he had to admit he couldn't tell anydifference between the nameless soap and the product to which he wasused. Eventually, he signed, made the first payment, shook hands withyoung Dickens and saw him to the door. He said, in parting, "I stillwonder why you do this, rather than dragging down unemployment insurancelike most young men fresh out of school. " Warren Dickens screwed up his face. This was a question that wasn'troutine. "Well, I make approximately the same, if I stick to it and getenough contracts. And, shucks they're not hard to get. And, well, I'mworking, not just bumming on the rest of the country. I'm doingsomething, something useful. " Coty pursed his lips and shrugged. "It's been a long time since anybodycared about that. " He looked after the young man as he walked down thewalk. Then he turned and headed for the phone, and ten years seemed to dropaway from him. He lit the screen with a flick, dialed and said crisply, "That's him, Jerry. Going down the walk now. Don't let him out of yoursight. " Jerry's face was in the screen but he was obviously peering down, fromthe helio-jet, locating the subject. "O. K. , Tracy, I make him. See youlater. " His face faded. The man who had called himself Mr. Coty, dialed again, not bothering tolight the screen. "All right, " he said. "Thank Mrs. Coty and let hercome home now. " * * * * * Frank Tracy worked his way down an aisle of automated phono-typers andother office equipment. The handful of operators, their faces bored, periodically strolled up and down, needlessly checking that which seldomneeded checking. He entered the receptionist's office, flicked a hand at LaVerne Sandell, one of the few employees it seemed impossible to automate out of herposition, and said, "The Chief is probably expecting me. " "That he is. Go right in, Mr. Tracy. " "I'm expecting a call from one of the operatives. Put it through, ehLaVerne?" "Righto. " Even as he walked toward the door to the sanctum sanctorum, he grimacedsourly at her. "_Righto_, yet. Isn't that a bit on the maize side?Doesn't sound very authentic to me. " "I can see you don't put in your telly time, Mr. Tracy. Slang goes incycles these days. They simply don't dream up a whole new set ofexpressions every generation anymore because everybody gets tired ofthem so soon. Instead, older periods of idiom are revived. For instance, scram is coming back in. " He stopped long enough to look at her, frowning. "Scram?" She took him in quizzically, estimating. "Possibly _dust_, or _getlost_, was the term when you were a boy. " Tracy chuckled wryly, "Thanks for the compliment, but I go back to thedays of _beat it_. " In the inner office the Chief looked up at him. "Sit down, Frank. What'sthe word? Another exponent of free enterprise, pre-historic style?" Frank Tracy found a chair and began talking even while fumbling forbriar and tobacco pouch. "No, " he grumbled. "I don't think so, not thistime. I'm afraid there might be something more to it. " His boss leaned back in the massive old-fashioned chair he affected andpatted his belly, as though appreciative of a good meal just finished. "Oh? Give it all to me. " Tracy finished lighting his pipe, flicked the match out and put it backin his pocket, noting that he'd have to get a new one one of these days. He cleared his throat and said, "Reports began coming in of house tohouse canvassers selling soap for three cents a bar. " "_Three cents a bar?_ They can't manufacture it for that. Will the stuffpass the Health Department?" "Evidently, " Tracy said wryly. "The salesman claimed it's the same soapas reputable firms peddle. " "Go on. " "We had to go to a bit of trouble to get a line on them without raisingtheir suspicion. One of the boys lived in a neighborhood that was beingcanvassed for new customers and his wife had signed up. So I took herplace when the salesman arrived with her first delivery--they deliverthe first batch. I let him think I was Bob Coty and questioned him, butnot enough to raise his suspicions. " "And?" "An outfit selling soap and planning on branching into bread and heavensknows what else. No advertising. No middlemen. No nothing, as thesalesman said, except standard soap at three cents a bar. " "They can't package it for that!" "They don't package it at all. " The Chief raised his chubby right hand and wiped it over his face in astereotype gesture of resignation. "Did you get his home office address?Maybe there's some way of buying them out--indirectly, of course. " "No, sir. It seemed to be somewhat of a secret. " The other's eyes widened. "Ridiculous. You can't hide anything likethat. There's a hundred ways of tracking them down before the day isout. " "Of course. I've got Jerome Wiseman following him in a helio-jet. No usegetting rough, as yet. We'll keep it quiet . .. Assuming that meets withyour approval. " "You're in the field, Frank. You make the decisions. " The phone screen had lighted up and LaVerne's piquant face faded in. "The call Mr. Tracy was expecting from Operative Wiseman. " "Put him on, " the Chief said, lacing his plump fingers over his stomach. Jerry's face appeared in the screen. He was obviously parked on thestreet now. He said, "Subject has disappeared into this office building, Tracy. For the past fifteen minutes he's kinda looked as though theday's work was through and since this dump could hardly be anybody'shome, he must be reporting to his higher-up. " "Let's see the building, " Tracy said. The portable screen was directed in such manner that a disreputableappearing building, obviously devoted to fourth-rate businesses, wascentered. "O. K. , " Tracy said. "I'll be over. You can knock off, Jerry. Oh, exceptfor one thing. Subject's name is Warren Dickens. Just for luck, get acomplete dossier on him. I doubt if he's got a criminal or subversiverecord, but you never know. " Jerry said, "Right, " and faded. Frank Tracy came to his feet and knocked the rest of his pipe out intothe gigantic ashtray on his boss' desk. "Well, I suppose the next step'smine. " "Check back with me as soon as you know anything more, " the Chief said. He wheezed a sigh as though sorry the interview was over and that he'dhave to go back to his desk chores, but shifted his bulk and took up asheaf of papers. Just as Tracy got to the door, the Chief said, "Oh, yes. Easy on therough stuff, Tracy. I've been hearing some disquieting reports aboutsome of the overenthusiastic bullyboys on your team. We wouldn't wantsuch material to get in the telly-casts. " _Lard bottom_, Tracy growled inwardly as he left. Did the Chief think heliked violence? Did anyone in his right mind like violence? * * * Frank Tracy looked up at the mid-century type office building. He wassomewhat surprised that the edifice still remained. Where did the ownersever find profitable tenants? What business could be so small these daysthat it would be based in such quarters? However, here it was. The lobby was shabby. There was no indication on the list of tenants ofthe firm he was seeking, nor was there a porter. The elevator was out ofrepair. He did it the hard way, going from door to door, entering, hat in hand, apologetically, and saying, "Pardon me. You're the people who sell thesoap?" They kept telling him no until he reached the third floor and adoor to an office even smaller than usual. It was lettered _FreerEnterprises_ and even as he knocked and entered, the wording rang abell. There was only one desk but it was efficiently equipped with the latestin office gadgetry. The room was quite choked with files and even aMini-IBM tri-unit. The man behind the desk was old-fashioned enough towear glasses, but otherwise seemed the average aggressive executive typeyou expected to meet in these United States of the Americas. He waspossibly in his mid-thirties and one of those alert, over-eagercharacters irritating to those who believe in taking matters less thanurgently. He looked up and said snappily, "What can I do for you?" Tracy dropped into an easy-going characterization. "You're the peoplewho sell the soap?" "That is correct. What can I do for you?" Tracy said easily, "Why, I'd like to ask you a few questions about theenterprise. " "To what end, sir? You'd be surprised how busy a man I am. " Tracy said, "Suppose I'm from the Greater New York _News-Times_ lookingfor a story?" The other tapped a finger on his desk impatiently. "Pardon me, but inthat case I would be inclined to think you a liar. The _News-Times_knows upon which side its bread is spread. Its advertisers include allthe soap companies. It does not dispense free advertising through itsnews columns. " Tracy chuckled wryly, "All right. Let's start again. " He brought forthhis wallet, flicked through various identification cards until he foundthe one he wanted and presented it. "Frank Tracy is the name, " he said. "Department of Internal Revenue. There seems to be some question as toyour corporation taxes. " "Oh, " the other said, obviously taken aback. "Please have a chair. " Heread the authentic looking, but spurious credentials. Tracy took theproffered chair and then sat and looked at the other as though it washis turn. "My name is Flowers, " the Freer Enterprises man told him, nervously. "Frederic Flowers. Frankly, this is my first month at the job and I'mnot too well acquainted with all the ramifications of the business. " Hemoistened his lips. "I hope there is nothing illegal--" He let thesentence fade away. Tracy reclaimed his false identity papers and put them back into hiswallet before saying easily, "I really couldn't say, as yet. Let's havea bit of questions and answers and I'll go further into the matter. " Flowers regained his confidence. "No reason why not, " he said quickly. "So far as I know, all is above board. " Frank Tracy let his eyes go about the room. "Why are you established, almost secretly, you might say, in this business backwoods of the city?" "No secret about it, " Flowers demurred. "Merely the cheapest rent wecould find. We cut costs to the bone, and then shave the bone. " "Um-m-m. I've spoken to one of your salesmen, a Warren Dickens, and Isuppose he gave me the standard sales talk. I wonder if you couldelaborate on your company's policies, its goals, that sort of thing. " "Goals?" "You obviously expect to make money, somehow or other, though I don'tsee that peddling soap at three cents a bar has much of a future. Theremust be some further angle. " Flowers said, "Admittedly, soap is just a beginning. Among other things, it's given us a mailing list of satisfied customers. Consumers who canthen be approached for future purchases. " * * * * * Frank Tracy relaxed in his chair, reached for pipe and tobacco and letthe other go on. But his eyes had narrowed, coldly. Flowers wrapped himself up in his subject. "Mr. Tracy, you probably haveno idea of the extent to which the citizens of Greater America are beingvictimized. Let me use but one example. " He came quickly to his feet, crossed to a small toilet which opened off the office and returned witha power-pack electric shaver which he handed to Tracy. Tracy looked at it, put it back on the desk and nodded. "It's the brandI have, " he said agreeably. "Yes, and millions of others. What did you pay for it?" Frank Tracy allowed himself a slight smirk. "As a matter of fact, I gotmine through a discount outfit, only twenty-five dollars. " "_Only_ twenty-five dollars, eh, when the retail price is supposedlythirty-five?" Flowers was triumphant. "A great bargain, eh? Well, letme give you a rundown, Mr. Tracy. " He took a quick breath. "True, they're advertised to retail atthirty-five dollars. And stores that sell them at that rate make aprofit of fifty per cent. The regional supply house, before them, knocksdown from forty to sixty per cent, on the wholesale price. Then thetrade name distributor makes at least fifty per cent on the sales to theregional supply houses. " "Trade name distributor?" Tracy said, as though ignorant of what theother was talking about. "You mean the manufacturer?" "No, sir. That razor you just looked at bears a trade name of a companythat owns no factory of its own. It buys the razors from a largeelectrical appliances manufacturing complex which turns out severalother name brand electric razors as well. The trade name company doesnothing except market the product. Its budget, by the way, calls for anexpenditure of six dollars on every razor for national advertising. " "Well, what are you getting at?" Tracy said impatiently. Frederic Flowers had reached his punch line. "All right, we've tracedthe razor all the way back to the manufacturing complex which made it. Mr. Tracy, that razor you bought at a discount bargain for twenty-fivedollars cost thirty-eight cents to produce. " Tracy pretended to be dumfounded. "I don't believe it. " "It can be proven. " Frank Tracy thought about it for a while. "Well, even if true, so what?" "It's a crime, that's so-what, " Flowers blurted indignantly. "And that'swhere Freer Enterprises comes in. Very shortly, we're going to enter themarket with an electric razor retailing for exactly one dollar. No namebrand, no advertising, no nothing except a razor just as good as thoughselling for from twenty-five to fifty dollars. " Tracy scoffed his disbelief. "That's where you're wrong. No electricrazor manufacturer would sell to you. They'd be cutting their ownthroats. " The Freer Enterprises official shook his head, in scorn. "That's where_you're_ wrong. The same electric appliance manufacturer who producedthat razor there will make a similar one, slightly different inappearance, for the same price for us. They don't care what happens totheir product once they make their profit from it. Business is business. We'll be at least as good a customer as any of the others have everbeen. Eventually, better, since we'll be getting electric razors intothe hands of people who never felt they could afford one before. " He shook a finger at Tracy. "Manufacturers have been doing this for along time. I imagine it was the old mail-order houses that started it. They'd get in touch with a manufacturer of, say, typewriters, oroutboard motors, or whatever, and order tens of thousands of these, notan iota different from the manufacturer's standard product except forthe nameplate. They'd then sell these for as little as half the ordinaryretail price. " [Illustration] Tracy seemed to think it over for a long moment. Eventually he said, "Even then you're not going to break any records making money. Yourdistribution costs might be pared to the bone, but you still have some. There'll be darn little profit left on each razor you sell. " Flowers was triumphant again. "We're not going to stop at razors, onceunder way. How about automobiles? Have you any idea of the disparitybetween the cost of production of a car and what they retail for?" "Well, no. " "Here's an example. As far back as about 1930 a barge companytransporting some brand-new cars across Lake Erie from Detroit had anaccident and lost a couple of hundred. The auto manufacturers sued, trying to get the retail price of each car. Instead, the court awardedthem the cost of manufacture. You know what it came to, labor, materials, depreciation on machinery--everything? Seventy-five dollarsper car. And that was around 1930. Since then, automation has swept theindustry and manufacturing costs per unit have dropped drastically. " The Freer Enterprises executive was now in full voice. "But even that'snot the ultimate. After all, cars were selling for as cheaply as $425then. Let's take some items such as aspirin. You can, of course, buysmall neatly packaged tins of twelve for twenty-five cents butsupposedly more intelligent buyers will buy bottles for forty or fiftycents. If the druggist puts out a special for fifteen cents a bottle itwill largely be refused since the advertising conditioned customerdoesn't want an inferior product. Actually, of course, aspirin isaspirin and you can buy it, in one hundred pound lots in polyethylenefilm bags, at about fourteen cents a pound, or in carload lots under thechemical name of acetylsalicylic acid, for eleven cents a pound. And anybig chemical corporation will sell you U. S. P. Grade Milk of Magnesia atabout six dollars a ton. Its chemical name, of course, is magnesiumhydroxide, or Mg(OH){2}, and you'd have one thousand quarts in that ton. Buying it beautifully packaged and fully advertised, you'd pay up to adollar twenty-five a pint in the druggist section of a modernultra-market. " * * * Tracy had heard enough. He said crisply, "All right, Mr. Flowers, ofFreer Enterprises, now let me ask you something: Do you consider thiscountry prosperous?" Flowers blinked. Of a sudden, the man across from him seemed to havechanged character, added considerable dynamic to his make-up. Heflustered, "Yes, I suppose so. But it could be considerably moreprosperous if--" Tracy was sneering. "If consumer prices were brought down drastically, eh? Mr. Flowers, you're incredibly naïve when it comes to moderneconomics. Do you realize that one of the most significant developments, economically speaking, took place in the 1950s; something perhaps moresignificant than the development of atomic power?" Flowers blinked again, mesmerized by the other's new domineeringpersonality. "I . .. I don't know what you're talking about. " "The majority of employees in the United States turned from blue collarsto white. " Flowers looked pained. "I don't--" "No, of course you don't or you wouldn't be participating in asubversive attack upon our economy, which, if successful, would lead tothe collapse of Western prosperity and eventually to the success of theSoviet Complex. " Mr. Flowers gobbled a bit, then gulped. "I'll spell it out for you, " Tracy pursued. "In the early days ofcapitalism, back when Marx and Engels were writing such works as_Capital_, the overwhelming majority of the working class were employeddirectly in production. For a long time it was quite accurate when thepolitical cartoonists depicted a working man as wearing overalls andcarrying a hammer or wrench. In short, employees who got their handsdirty, outnumbered those who didn't. "But with the coming of increased mechanization and eventuallyautomation and the second industrial revolution, more and more employeeswent into sales, the so-called service industries, advertising andentertainment which has become largely a branch of advertising, distribution, and, above all, government which in this bureaucratic ageis largely a matter of regulation of business and propertyrelationships. As automation continued, fewer and fewer of our peoplewere needed to produce all the commodities that the country couldassimilate under our present socio-economic system. And I need onlypoint out that the average American _still_ enjoys more material thingsthan any other nation, though admittedly the European countries, and Idon't exclude the Soviet Complex, are coming up fast. " Flowers said indignantly, "But what's this charge that I'm participatingin a subversive--" "Mr. Flowers, " Tracy overrode him, "let's not descend to pure maize inour 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 ofthe 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. Hisvoice was softer now. "Our social system may have its strains andtensions, Mr. Flowers, but it works and we don't want anybody throwingwrenches in its admittedly delicate machinery. Advertising is currentlyone of the biggest industries of the country. The entertainmentindustry, admittedly now based on advertising, is gigantic. Ourmagazines and newspapers, employing hundreds of thousands of employeesfrom editors right on down to newsstand operators, are able to existonly through advertising revenue. Above all, millions of our populationare employed in the service industries, and in distribution, in thestock market, in the commodity markets, in all the other branches ofdistribution which you Freer Enterprises people want to pull down. Athird of our working force is now unemployed, but given your way, itwould be at least two thirds. " Flowers, suddenly suspicious, said, "What has all this to do with theDepartment 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 thatdepartment. Here is my real card, Mr. Flowers. " The Freer Enterprises man must have felt a twinge of premonition even ashe took it up, but the effect was still enough to startle him. "Bureauof Economic Subversion!" he said. "Now then, " Tracy snapped. "I want the names of your higher ups, and theaddress of your central office, Flowers. Frankly, you're in the soup. Asyou possibly know, our hush-hush department has unlimited emergencypowers, 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 saidcurtly. * * * * * Frank Tracy hurried through the outer office into LaVerne Sandell'sdomain, and bit out to her, "Tell the Chief I'm here. Crisis. Andimmediately 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 withbuttons and switches. Tracy hurried into the Chief's office and didn't bother with the usualamenities. He snapped, "Worse than I thought, sir. This outfit ispossibly openly subversive. Deliberately undermining the economy. " His superior put down the report he was perusing and shifted his bulkbackward. "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 yourfield men use their discretion. I tell you, this thing is a potentialsnowball. I'll play it cool. Arrange things so that there'll be noscandal for the telly-reporters. But we've got to chill this onequickly, 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, mindwhat I said. Curb those roughnecks of yours. " * * * It proved considerably easier than Frank Tracy had hoped for. AdamMoncure's national headquarters turned out to be in a sparsely settledarea not far from Woodstock, Illinois. The house, in the passé ranchstyle, must have once been a millionaire's baby, what with an artificialfishing lake in the back, a kidney shaped swimming pool, extensivegardens and an imposing approach up a corridor of trees. "Right up to the front door, " Tracy growled to the operative driving thefirst 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 fivewill go in together. I don't expect trouble, they'll have had no advancewarning. I made sure of that. Jerry has equipment in his car to blanketany radio sending. We'll take care of phones in the house. No roughstuff, we want to talk to these people. " One of the men growled, "Suppose they start shooting?" Tracy snorted. "Then shoot back, of course. But just don't you start it. I shouldn't have to tell you these things. " "Got it, " one of the others said. He shifted his shoulders to loosen the. 38 Recoilless in its holster. At the ornate doorway, the cars, which had been moving fast, a foot orso off the ground, came to a quick halt, settled, and the men disgorged, guns in hand. Tracy called to the occupants of the other vehicle, "On the double. Surround the house. Don't let anybody leave. Come on, boys. " They scurried down the flagstone walk, banged on the door. It was openedby a houseman who stared at them uncomprehendingly. "The occupants of this establishment are under arrest, " Tracy snapped. He flashed a gold badge. "Take me to Adam Moncure. " He turned to his menand gestured with his head. "Take over, boys. Jerry, you come with me. " The houseman was terrified, but not to the point of being unable tolead them to a gigantic former living room, now converted to offices. There was an older man, and four assistants. All in shirt sleeves inconcession to the mid-western summer, none armed from all Tracy couldsee. They looked up in surprise, rather than dismay. The older mansnapped, "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Jerry chuckled sourly. Frank Tracy said, "You're all under arrest. Jerry, herd these clerks, orwhatever they are, into some other room. Get any other occupants of thehouse together, too. And watch them carefully, confound it. Don'tunderestimate these people. And make a search for secret rooms, cellars, that sort of thing. " "Right, " Jerry growled. The older of the five Freer Enterprises men was on his feet now. He wasa thin, angry faced type, gray of hair and somewhere in his sixties. "Iwant to know the meaning of this!" he roared. "Adam Moncure?" Tracy said crisply. "That is correct. And to what do I owe this cavalier intrusion into myhome and place of business?" Jerry, at pistol point, was herding the four assistants from the room, taking the houseman along with them. Tracy looked at Moncure, speculatively, then dipped into his pockets forpipe and tobacco. He gestured to a chair with his head. "Sit down, Mr. Moncure. The jig is up. " "The _jig_?" the other blurted in a fine rage. "I insist--" "O. K. , O. K. , you'll get your explanation. " Tracy sat down on a couchhimself and sized up the older man, even as he lit his pipe. Moncure, still breathing heavily in his indignation, took control ofhimself well enough to be seated. "Well, sir?" he bit out. Tracy said curtly, "Frank Tracy, Bureau of Economic Subversion. " "Bureau of Economic Subversion!" Moncure said indignantly. "What in thename of all that's holy is the Bureau of Economic Subversion?" Tracy pointed at him with the pipe stem. "I'll ask a few questionsfirst, please. How many branches of your nefarious outfit are presentlyunder operation?" The other glared at him, but Tracy merely returned the pipe to his mouthand glowered back. Finally Moncure snapped, "There is no purpose in hiding any of ouraffairs. We have opened preliminary offices only in Chicago and NewYork. Freer Enterprises is but in its infancy. " "Praise Allah for that, " Tracy muttered sarcastically. "And thus far we have dealt only in soap. However, as our organizationgets under way we plan to branch out into a score, and ultimatelyhundreds of products. " Tracy said, "You can forget about that, Moncure. Freer Enterprises comesto a halt as of today. Do you realize that your business tactics wouldlead to a complete collapse of gainful employment and eventually to adepression such as this nation has never seen before?" "Exactly!" Moncure snapped in return. * * * It was Tracy's turn to react. His eyes widened, then narrowed. "Do youmean that you are deliberately attempting to undermine the economy ofthe United States of the Americas? Remember, Mr. Moncure, you are underarrest and anything you say may be held against you. " "Undermine it!" Moncure said heatedly. "Bring it crashing to the groundis the better term. There has never been such an abortion developed inthe history of political economy. " He came to his feet again and began storming up and down the room. "Afull three quarters of our employed working at nothing jobs, gobbledygook jobs, non-producing jobs, make-work jobs, red-tapebureaucracy jobs. At a time when the nation is supposedly in a breakneckeconomic competition with the Soviet Complex, we put our best brainsinto advertising, entertainment and sales, while they put theirs intoscience and industry. " He stopped long enough to shake an indignant finger at the surprisedTracy. "But that isn't the worst of it. Have you ever heard of plannedobsolescence?" Tracy acted as though on the defensive. "Well . .. Sure . .. " "In the Soviet Complex, and, for that matter, in Common Europe and othereconomic competitors of ours, they simply don't believe in plannedobsolescence and all its related nonsense. Razor blades, everywhereexcept in this country, don't go dull after two or three shaves. Carsdon't fall apart after two or three years, or even become so out ofstyle that the owner feels that he's losing status by being seen in it, the owners expect to keep them half a lifetime. Automobile batteriesdon't go to pieces after eighteen months, they last for a decade. And onand on!" The old boy was really unwinding now. "Nor is even that the nadir ofthis socio-economic hodge-podge we've allowed to develop, this economyof production for sale, rather than production for use. " He stabbed withhis finger. "I think one of the best examples of what was to come was tobe witnessed way back at the end of the Second War. The idea of theball-bearing pen was in the air. The first one to hurry into productiongave his pen a tremendous build-up. It had ink enough to last threeyears, it would make many carbon copies, you could use it under water. And so on and so forth. It cost fifteen dollars, and there was only onedifficulty with it. It wouldn't write. Not that that made any differencebecause it sold like hotcakes what with all the promotion. He wasn'tinterested in whether or not it would write, but only in whether or notit would sell. " Moncure threw up his hands dramatically. "I ask you, cansuch an economic system be taken seriously?" "What's your point?" Tracy growled dangerously. He'd never met one thisfar out, before. "Isn't it obvious? Continue this ridiculous economy and we'll lose thebattle for men's minds. You can't have an economic system that allowssuch nonsense as large scale unemployment of trained employees, plannedobsolescence, union featherbedding, and an overwhelming majority ofthose who are employed wasting their labor on unproductive employment. " Tracy said, "Then if I understand you correctly, Freer Enterprises wasdeliberately organized for the purpose of undermining the economy sothat it will collapse and have to be reorganized on a different basis. " "That is _exactly_ correct, " Moncure said defiantly. "I am devoting mywhole fortune to this cause. And there is nothing in American law thatprevents me from following through with my plans. " "You're right there, " Tracy said wryly. "There's nothing in American lawthat prevents you. However, you see, I have no connection whatsoeverwith the American government. " He slipped the gun from its holster. * * * * * Frank Tracy made his way wearily into LaVerne's domain. She looked upfrom the desk. "Everything go all right, Mr. Tracy?" "I suppose so. Tell Comrade Zotov that I'm back from Chicago, please. " She clicked switches, said something into an inner-office communicator, then looked up again. "He'll see you immediately, Mr. Tracy. " Pavel Zotov looked up from his endless paperwork and wheezed the sigh ofa fat man. He correctly interpreted the expression of his fieldoperative. "Pour us a couple of drinks, Frank, or would you rather haveit _Frol_, today?" His best field man grunted as he walked over to the bar. "Vodka, eh?_Chort vesmiot_ how tired one can become of this everlasting bourbon. "He reached into the refrigerator compartment and brought forth a bottleof iced Stolichnaya. He poured two three-ounce charges and brought themback to his bureau chief's desk. They toasted silently, knocked back the colorless spirit. Pavel Zotovsaid, "Well, Frol?" The man usually called Frank Tracy said, "The worst case yet. This onehad quite a clear picture of the true situation. He saw thenecessity--given _their_ viewpoint, of course--of getting out of thefantastic rut their economy has fallen into. " He ran his hand over hismouth in a gesture of weariness. "Chief, do you have any idea of howlong it would take us to catch up to them, if we ever did, if theyreally turned this economy on full blast, as an alternative to theirpresent foul-up?" "That's why we're here, " the Chief said heavily. "What did you do?" The man sometimes called Tracy told him. Zotov winced. "I thought I ordered you--" "You did, " the man called Tracy told him curtly, "but what alternativewas there? The fire will completely destroy the records. I have thenames and addresses of all the others connected with Freer Enterprises. We'll have to arrange car accidents, that sort of thing. " The fat man's lips worked. "We can't get by with this indefinitely, Frol. With such blatant tactics, sooner or later their C. I. A. Or F. B. I. Is going to get wind of us. " Tracy came to his feet angrily. "What alternative have we? We've beensent over here to do a job. We're doing it. If we're caught, who knowsbetter than we that we're expendable? If you don't mind, I'm going onhome. " As he left the office, through the secret door that led through theinnocuous looking garage, the man they called Frank Tracy was inwardlythinking, "Zotov might be my superior, and a top man in the party, buthe's too soft for this job. Perhaps I'd better send a report back toMoscow on him. "