What Bud Calhoun was doing here, Paul couldn't imagine, since Bud wasn't at all interested in political action and was without capacity for resentment. As Bud had said of himself, "All Ah want is time an' equipmen' to faht around with, and Ah'm happy as a pig in mud."
"We'll start with you, Z-II," said Lasher, looking at Katharine.
There were circles under Katharine's gentle, wondering eyes, and she looked startled when Lasher called on her, as though Lasher, the meeting, the underground chamber, had suddenly risen about her in her clean, girlish world. "Oh," she said, and rattled the papers on the table before her. "We now have seven hundred and fifty-eight ghost shirts on hand. Our quota for now was a thousand," she said wearily, "but Mrs. Fishbein -"
"No names!" cried several of the members.
"Sorry." She blushed, and referred to her papers. "Er, X-229 came down with cataracts and had to stop the design work. She'll be all right in about six weeks, and can get back to work. Also -there's a shortage of red wire."
"A-12!" said Lasher.
"Yessir," said a swarthy man, and Paul recognized him as one of the Works security guards out of uniform. A-12 wrote down the requisition for red wire, and grinned sheepishly at Paul.
"The shirts that are done are packaged, ready for delivery," said Katharine.
"Very good," said Lasher. "G-17, have you anything to report?"
Bud Calhoun smiled, and leaned back and rubbed his hands. "Comin' along jes' fine. Got two models ready fo' trial out at L-56's place some dark night."
"They'll make it through a works fence all right?" asked Lasher.
"Like a dose of salts," said Bud, "thout trippin' the alarm, neither."
"Who cares if the alarm's tripped or not?" said Finnerty. "The whole country's going to be in an uproar anyway."
"Just th'owed thet in," said Bud. "Also got an idea for a gimmick thet'd feed powah into the telephone system so it'd knock the guards flat on theah tails when they try to call for he'p." He chuckled merrily.
"Thought we were going to cut the phone wires."
"Could do thet, I s'pose," said Bud.
"What we want from you," said Lasher, "is a design for a good practical, cheap armored car for breaking through the works fences, something our people all over the country ought to be able to knock together in a hurry, with jalopies and sheet metal."
"Hell, we got thet," said Bud. "What Ah'm thinkin' of now, is how we can really fox 'em. See, if we wanted to, Ah figger we could fix a li'l ol -"
"Talk to me about it after the meeting," said Lasher.
Bud looked momentarily unhappy, and then began sketching on a pad before him. Paul saw that he had drawn an armored car, to which he was adding antennae, a radar dome, spikes, flails, and other instruments of terrible slaughter. His eyes met Paul's, and he nodded. "Very in'er'stin' problem," he whispered.
"All right," said Lasher. "Recruiting. D-71 - got something for us?"
"He's in Pittsburgh," said Finnerty.
"That's right," said Lasher. "Forgot. Seeing what he can do with the Moose there."
Luke Lubbock cleared his throat several times, and riffled papers. "Sir, he asked me to give his report, sir."
"Go ahead."
"We got a man in every chapter of the Royal Parmesans. That's fifty-seven chapters."
"Good men?" said someone.
"You can count on D-71," said Lasher. "Anybody he or his boys recruit gets exactly the same treatment you did - the Mickey, then the questioning under sodium pentathol."
"O.K.," said the questioner. "Just wanted to make sure nobody was getting sloppy at this stage of the game."
"Relax," said Finnerty, very tough, out of the corner of his mouth.
"Him too?" said the questioner, pointing at Paul.
"Him especially," said Lasher. "We know things about Proteus he'd be surprised to know about himself."
"No names," said Paul.
Everybody laughed. It seemed to be a welcome bit of humor that broke the tension of the meeting.
"What's funny?" said Paul.
"You're the name," said Lasher.
"Now wait, just a minute -"
"What are you worried about? You don't have to do anything," said Finnerty. "What a break, Paul. Wouldn't we like to be able to serve the cause just sitting down here, keeping away from the cops - no responsibilities, no chances to take."
"It's pretty soft all right," said Paul, "but not quite soft enough. I'm walking out. Sorry."
"They'll kill you, Paul," said Finnerty.
"You'd kill him, if you were told to," said Lasher.
Finnerty nodded. "That's right, Paul, I would. I'd have to."
Paul sank back into his chair. He found that he wasn't really shocked by the alternatives of life and death just presented to him. It was such a clean-cut proposition, unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. Here were honest-to-God black and white, not at all like the muddy pastels he'd had to choose from while in industry. Having it put like that, Do as we say or get killed, had the same liberating effect as the drug of a few hours ago had had. He couldn't make his own decisions for reasons anybody could understand.
So Paul leaned back in his chair and began to take a real interest in what was going on.
Luke Lubbock finished reading D-71's report on recruiting in the lodges across the country. The goal, to have at least two influential Ghost Shirt Society members in every major social organization in every major industrial city, was about sixty per cent realized.
"S-1 - what have you got to say for yourself?" said Lasher.
"We're getting the word around about who the Leader is," said Finnerty. "Take a few days to see what sort of effect it has."
"Don't see how it could be anything but good," said Lasher.
"Recruiting should really go to town now," said Finnerty.
"What's the score on that television bug?" asked the Works security guard. "Wasn't you going after him personal?"
"Alfy Tucci?" said Finnerty.
"No names!"
"Kick that name around all you want," said Lasher glumly. "He isn't ours."
"That's right," said Finnerty. "He isn't anybody's, and never will be. He never joined anything, his father never joined anything, and his grandfather never joined anything, and if he ever has a son, he'll never join anything either."
"What's his reason?" asked Paul.
"Says it's all he can do to figure out what he represents without trying to represent a thousand other people besides," said Finnerty.
"Are there any conditions under which he'd join?" asked the man who'd been nervous about loose recruiting methods.
"One," said Finnerty. "When everybody looks and thinks exactly the way Alfy Tucci does."
Lasher smiled sadly. "The great American individual," he said. "Thinks he's the embodiment of liberal thought throughout the ages. Stands on his own two feet, by God, alone and motionless. He'd make a good lamp post, if he'd weather better and didn't have to eat. All right, where were we?"
"We got a date yet?" asked Mr. Haycox politely.
"We'll get a date two days before it happens, and no sooner!" said Lasher.
"Could I ask a question?" said Paul.
"Don't know why not. I haven't succeeded in heading anybody else off, yet."
"What, generally, is supposed to happen on this date?"
"A special meeting of every chapter of every big social organization in the country, outside of the engineers' and managers', will have been called. At the meetings, our people, big men in the organizations, will tell the members that all over the country men are marching through the streets on their way to wreck the automatic factories and give America back to the people. Then they'll put on their ghost shirts and lead whoever will follow, starting with a few more of our people planted around.