"I quite agree, Mr. Solo, but there are a number of things which this hypothesis fails to explain.
"I know. There is the problem of administering any drug to an entire population. Until these last incidents, no one seems to have displayed any lack of initiative. So they couldn't have just been fed the drug and ordered to hate U.N.C.L.E. Besides, while Dr. Armden was rational yesterday he didn't remember anything like that. Of course, he didn't recall any other unusual circumstances, either; he seemed completely bewildered by his behavior."
"Yes, Mr. Solo. He is showing signs of the same phenomenon now that he is beginning to throw off the drug's influence again. Both he and Mr. Kuryakin remember the attempted kidnapping yesterday. The affair is indeed a puzzle."
"Miss Berman is driving me to the university to talk with Professor Curtis again. Perhaps he can shed some light on the subject."
"Very well, Mr. Solo. Let me know your findings." The communicator went dead in Waverly's usual abrupt fashion and Napoleon replaced it in his pocket. He looked up as Rita swung the car into the university parking lot. She dashed for her class while Napoleon strolled toward the Liberal Arts building. On the way, he noticed Professor Dodd peering intently into a patch of shrubbery; apparently Eyre was loose again.
"Get settled at Thompson's?" Curtis inquired as he entered.
Napoleon nodded. "I discovered what you meant about him not being friendly, but he agreed to let me stay if I kept out of his way."
Curtis nodded. "That's normal, which is a relief. I shudder to think of Lem Thompson infected with an active dislike of an organization. What's next on your agenda?"
"Seeing you, at the moment. How's the survey coming?
Curtis's eyes lit up. "Quite well, quite well. It's absolutely amazing. We've covered almost half the families already, and so far..." He turned to the desk and burrowed through several stacks of paper. "So far," he continued, "one hundred and eleven families include one or more members who are hostile to U.N.C.L.E. in varying degrees. The amount of hostility varies from pronounced dislike to absolutely white-lipped fury. Frankly, I hadn't realized there were that many people in town who had even heard of U.N.C.L.E."
He laid the paper back on the desk, and looked at Napoleon. "And not a single individual - not one! - can give a rational explanation of his or her feelings!"
"What's their opinion of Thrush?"
"The reactions there are about what I would expect. Most people have never heard of it. A few recognize the name dimly as that of an international organization but are indifferent to it, while about the same number know of its ambition to conquer the world and are opposed to it. Of course there are one or two in favor of its ambition to conquer the world; you get that sort in any opinion poll. Actually, the only anomaly is the anti-U.N.C.L.E. bias, and what seems to be a linked dislike of charities. I confess I don't quite perceive the connection."
"Is there any pattern you can see? Any group, area, occupation, that is more strongly anti-U.N.C.L.E. than the norm?"
"I haven't begun that phase of the survey yet," Curtis explained. "I had intended to wait until all results were in. But if you're impatient..." He picked up a stack of papers and riffled through them.
"There's one apparent pattern," he announced finally. "Of course, any snap judgment such as this is subject to verification by a more thorough analysis, you understand. However, I see that almost the entire technical staff of Falco Industries is in the anti-U.N.C.L.E. group."
"That begins to sound like Thrush," Napoleon observed. "Scientists and technicians are their favorite game. That can't account for everyone, though; surely Falco doesn't have that large a technical staff."
Curtis shook his head. "No, and some of these others simply don't fit any pattern that I can see. Perhaps a more detailed analysis will turn up something. But, for example, here's a young man who pumps gas at Joe's Friendly Service. He's not the world's brightest individual; the last noteworthy thing he did was play on the high school basketball team. And here's old Eleazar, the college janitor. Or custodian, as I believe he prefers to be called; he hasn't heard about maintenance engineers yet. I've never heard him discuss anything more intellectual than the latest spy gadget on a TV show. Yet here he is, expressing doubts about international security organizations."
"How about women?" Napoleon asked. "Are they exempt?
"No, there are a few on the list. Not many, though; not nearly as many as men. However, I would expect that; women are inherently more stable than men."
"Thank you for the kind words," Rita said as she entered. "The class was cancelled today - it would be, just when I'd made a firm resolve to attend - so I came back to pick up pointers on intrigue. Now just reassure me that you meant stable as in personality and not as in horse-stall, and go on with the discussion. I'm all ears."
"Stop identifying with television personalities," Curtis reproved her. She made a face at him.
"I don't think inherent stability has much to do with it," Napoleon said, wrenching the conversation back to its former course.
"Oh?" Curtis looked up from the papers. "Thrush, you mean?'
"More specifically, I meant a new and apparently unknown drug which Thrush seems to have developed."
Curtis looked crestfallen. "I suspected it was too good to be true," he said. Napoleon stared at him. "About the entire town undergoing a psychological change," he explained. "It's really too bad. Although," he looked thoughtful, "I can't quite see how a prejudice could be inculcated by the use of drugs. At the very least there would have to be a command or suggestion accompanying the drug; I suppose a drug that would heighten suggestibility is possible. Are you sure?"
Napoleon shook his head. "At the moment I'm not sure of anything. But since Illya and Armden were pretty obviously drugged with something that made them obey orders, there is a possibility that something similar is being used wholesale in Midford."
Curtis sat on the edge of his desk, lost in thought for a full minute. Optimism gradually returned, and he looked up. "The thing to do is work out a new questionnaire. If the drug is being used on everyone in town we should be able to discover how it's administered. There should be some noticeable side effects."
Napoleon laughed. "You have a way of getting to the heart of the matter," he said. "Mr. Waverly didn't mention side effects that would enable anyone to detect a drug-taker immediately. Once they've voiced anti-U.N.C.L.E. sentiments they're fairly easy. The administration of the drug bothers me; I haven't noticed anyone rushing about madly stabbing people with a hypodermic, or even sprinkling a mysterious powder in everyone's food."
"Maybe the anti-U.N.C.L.E. feeling is the side effect," Rita suggested. "Maybe the purpose of the drug is some thing else altogether."
"It would be a pretty weird side effect," Napoleon answered. "It's hard enough trying to figure out things on the assumption that this is the desired result, with out you trying to confuse matters."
"She isn't trying to confuse matters," Curtis said. "She does quite well in that line without trying. According to your story, however, Dr. Armden and your friend Illya acted like zombies after being given the drug yesterday. But Armden and Bennett and the others weren't reacting in that manner when the anti-U.N.C.L.E. feelings were being voiced."