Ardmore nodded. "I see your point. You feel that we should concentrate on the garrisoned towns and cities and ignore the rest. But look, Jeff, we mustn't underestimate the enemy. If the Great God Mota shows up nowhere but in the garrisoned spots it's going to look mighty funny to some intelligence officer among the PanAsians when he gets to fiddling with the statistics of the occupied country. I think we've got to show up elsewhere and. anywhere."
"And I respectfully suggest that we can't, sir. We haven't men enough to pull it off. We'll have trouble enough recruiting and training enough men to set up a temple in each of the garrisoned cities."
Ardmore chewed a thumbnail and looked frustrated. "You're probably right. Well, confound it, we won't get anywhere at all if we sit here worrying about the difficulties. I said we'd have to play by ear and that's what we'll do. The first job is to get a headquarters set up in Denver. Jeff, what are you going to need?"
Thomas frowned. "I don't know. Money, I suppose."
"No trouble about that," said Wilkie. "How much? I can make you half a ton of gold as easily as half a pound."
"I don't think I can carry more than about fifty pounds."
"I don't think he can spend bullion very easily," Ardmore commented. "It should be in coin."
"I can use bullion," Thomas insisted. "All I have to do is to take it to the Imperial bank. Panning gold is encouraged; our gracious masters charge one hell of a stiff seigniorage."
Ardmore shook his head. "You're missing the propaganda aspect. A priest in long robes and a flowing beard doesn't whip out a check book and a fountain pen; it's out of character. I don't want you to have a bank account anyhow; it will give the enemy detailed records of just what you are doing. I want you to pay for things with beautiful, shiny golden coins, stacks of them. It will make a tremendous impression. Scheer, are you any good at counterfeiting?"
"I've never tried it, sir."
"No time like the present. Every man needs an alternative profession. Jeff, you didn't have any chance to pick up an Imperial gold coin, did you? We need a model."
"No, I didn't. But I suppose I could get one, if I sent word out among the Us that I needed one."
"I hate to wait. But you've got to have money to tackle Denver."
"Does it have to be Imperial money?" asked Doctor Brooks.
"Eh?"
The biologist hauled a five dollar gold piece from his pocket. "Here's a lucky piece I've carried since I was a kid. I guess this is a lucky time to let it go."
"Hmm ... How about it, Jeff? Can you pass American money?"
"Well, American paper money is no good, but gold coin -- My guess is that those leeches probably won't object, so long as it's gold -- at the bullion price, at least. I'm sure that Americans will take it."
"We don't care how much they discount it." Ardmore took the coin and chucked it to Scheer. "How long will it take you to make forty or fifty pounds of those?"
The master sergeant studied it. "Not long if I pour them rather than stamp them. You want them all just alike, sir?"
"Why not?"
"Well, sir, there's the matter of the date."
"Oh! I get you. Well, that's the only pattern we have; I guess we'll just have to hope that they either won't notice or won't care."
"If you can allow me just a little more time I think I could fix it, sir. I make about twenty or so with this as a pattern, then I'll do a little hand work and put a different date on each one. That will give me twenty different patterns instead of one."
"Scheer, you have the soul of an artist. Do it that way. While you are about it, you had better vary the scratches and wear marks on each."
"I had thought of that, sir."
Ardmore grinned. "This team is going to be a headache to His Imperial Nastiness yet. Well, how about it, Jeff? Any more points to settle before we adjourn the meeting?"
"Just one, boss. How do I get to Denver? .Or how do we get there, assuming that Howe comes along?"
"I thought you would bring that up. It's a sticky question; we can't expect the Hand to provide you with a helicopter. How are your feet? Any broken arches? Corns and bunions?"
"I'll be switched if I want to walk. It's a long way. "
"Don't blame you. And the devil of it is that it's a problem we're going to have with us from now on, if we are going to organize all over the country."
"I don't understand the difficulty," put in Brooks. "I thought citizens were still allowed to ride anything but aircraft?"
"Sure -- with travel permits and endless red tape. Never mind," Ardmore continued, "the day will come when the costume of a priest of Mota will be all the travel permit we'll need. If we work this right, we'll be teacher's pet with all sorts of special privileges. In the meantime the trick is to get Jeff into Denver without attracting undue attention and without wearing out his feet. Say, Jeff, you never did tell me how you traveled. Somehow we missed that."
"I hitch-hiked. Quite a chore, too. Most of the truckers are too scared of the security police to risk it."
"You did? You shouldn't have, Jeff: The priests of Mota do not hitch-hike. It doesn't fit in with miracle working."
"Well, what do they do? Dawggone it, Major, if I had walked I would still be on the way -- or more likely arrested by some flunky who hadn't gotten the news yet." Thomas' face showed irritation most unusual in him.
"Sorry. I shouldn't second-guess you. But we will have to figure out a better way."
"Why don't I just run him down in one of the scout cars?" asked Wilkie. "At night, of course."
"Night doesn't mean anything to radar, Bob. They would shoot you out of the sky."
"I don't think so. We have an almost unlimited amount of power at our disposal -- sometimes it scares me when I try to think how much. I believe I can rig a radar beacon effect that will burn out any radar set that is turned on us."
"Giving notice to the enemy that there is still someone around capable of hanky-panky with electronics? We mustn't tip our hand so soon, Bob."
Wilkie shut up, crestfallen. Ardmore thought it over. "And yet we've got to take chances. You rig your rig, Bob -- then plan on hedgehopping all the way. We'll do it about three or four o'clock in the morning and there's a chance that you won't be noticed at all. Use your rig if you have to but if you do then everyone is to return to base. The incident must not be connected with the priests of Mota, even in the matter of timing. The same applies after Wilkie sets you down, Jeff. If by any chance you are surprised, use the Ledbetter effect to kill off all the enemy anywhere close to you -- then go underground. Jungle up. Under no circumstances is any PanAsian to be permitted to suspect that the priests of Mota are anything but what they seem. Kill off your witnesses and escape."
"Right, boss."
The little scout car hovered over Lookout Mountain a few feet away from Buffalo Bill's grave. The door opened and a robed priest dropped to the ground, stumbling because of the heavy money belt slung from his shoulders and waist. A similar figure followed him and landed a bit more surefootedly. "You all right, Jeff"
"Sure."
Wilkie left the car on automatic long enough to lean out and say, "Good luck!"
"Thanks. But shut up and get going."
"Okay." The door closed and the car disappeared into the night.
It was growing light by the time Thomas and Howe reached the foot of the mountain and started into Denver. So far as they knew they had not been detected although once they had crouched in bushes for several minutes, afraid to breathe, while a patrol passed. Jeff had kept his staff ready, a thumb resting lightly on a golden leaf in the decorations below the cube of Mota. But the patrol passed on, unaware of the curbed lightnings trained on them.