in, but Number One was in his element. As he hadtold that incompetent, Kardelj, he had been through this thing before.It was no mistake that he was Number One.
After a time he put a beefy hand down on the reports. He could feelthe rage coming upon him. Of late, he realized, there most certainlyhad developed a plot to undermine his health by constantfrustrations. Was there no one, no one at all, to take some of thesetrivialities off his shoulders? Must he do everything in the People'sDemocratic Dictatorship? Make every decision and see it through?
He snapped into the mike, "Give me Lazar Jovanovic." And then, whenthe police head's shaven poll appeared in the screen of theTelly-Phone, "Comrade, I am giving you one last chance. Produce thistraitor, Josip Pekic, within the next twenty-four hours, or answer tome." He glared at the other, whose face had tightened in fear. "Ibegin to doubt the sincerity of your efforts, in this, ComradeJovanovic."
"But ... but, Comrade, I--"
"That's all!" Number One snapped. He flicked off the instrument, thenglowered at it for a full minute. If Jovanovic couldn't locate Pekic,he'd find someone who could. It was maddening that the pipsqueak hadseemingly disappeared. To this point, seeking him had progressed insecret. There had been too much favorable publicity churned out in theearly days of the expediter scheme to reverse matters to the point ofhaving a public hue and cry. It was being done on the q.t.
But! Number One raged inwardly, if his police couldn't find thecriminal soon enough, a full-scale hunt and purge could well enough belaunched. There was more to all this than met the eye. Oh, he, ZoranJankez had been through it before, though long years had lapsed sinceit had been necessary. The traitors, the secret conspiracies, and thenthe required purges to clean the Party ranks still once again.
The gentle summons of his Telly-Phone tinkled, and he flicked it onwith a rough brush of his hand.
And there was the youthful face of Josip Pekic, currently being soughthigh and low by the full strength of the Internal Affairs Secretariat.Youthful, yes, but even as he stared his astonishment, Zoran Jankezcould see that the past months had wrought their changes on theother's face. It was more mature, bore more of strain and weariness.
Before Jankez found his voice. Josip Pekic said diffidently, "I ... Iunderstand you've been, well ... looking for me, sir."
"Looking for you!" the Party head bleated, his rage ebbing in all butuncontrollably. For a moment he couldn't find words.
Pekic said, his voice jittering, "I had some research to do. You see,sir, this ... this project you and Kardelj started me off on--"
"I had nothing to do with it! It was Kardelj's scheme, confound hisidiocy!" Number One all but screamed.
"Oh? Well ... well, I had gathered the opinion that both of youconcurred. Anyway, like I say, the project from the first didn't comeoff quite the way it started. I ... well ... we, were thinking interms of finding out why waiters were surly, why workers andprofessionals and even officials tried to, uh, beat the rap, pass thebuck, look out for themselves and the devil take the hindmost, and allthose Americanisms that Kardelj is always using."
Jankez simmered, but let the other go on. Undoubtedly, his policechief, Lazar Jovanovic was even now tracing the call, and this youngtraitor would soon be under wraps where he could do no more damage tothe economy of the People's Democratic Dictatorship.
"But, well, I found it wasn't just a matter of waiters, andtruckdrivers and such. It ... well ... ran all the way from top tobottom. So, I finally felt as though I was sort of butting my headagainst the wall. I thought I better start at ... kind of ...fundamentals, so I began researching the manner in which thegovernments of the West handled some of these matters."
"Ah," Jankez said as smoothly as he was able to get out. "Ah. And?"This fool was hanging himself.
The younger man frowned in unhappy puzzlement. "Frankly, I wassurprised. I have, of course, read Western propaganda to the extent Icould get hold of it in Zagurest, and listened to the Voice of theWest on the wireless. I was also, obviously, familiar with our ownpropaganda. Frankly ... well ... I had reserved my opinion in bothcases."
* * * * *
This in itself was treason, but Number One managed to get out, almostencouragingly, "What are you driving at, Josip Pekic?"
"I found in one Western country that the government was actuallypaying its peasants, that is, farmers, not to plant crops. The samegovernment subsidized other crops, keeping the prices up to the pointwhere they were hard put to compete on the international markets."
Young Pekic made a moue, as though in puzzlement. "In other countries,in South America for instance, where the standard of living ispossibly the lowest in the West and they need funds desperately todevelop themselves, the governments build up large armies, althoughfew of them have had any sort of warfare at all for over a century andhave no threat of war."
"What is all this about?" Number One growled. Surely, Lazar Jovanovicwas on the idiot traitor's trail by now.
Josip took a deep breath and hurried on nervously. "They've got othercontradictions that seem unbelievable. For instance, their steelindustry will be running at half capacity, in spite of the fact thatmillions of their citizens have unfulfilled needs, involving steel.Things like cars, refrigerators, stoves. In fact, in their so-calledrecessions, they'll actually close down perfectly good, modernfactories, and throw their people out of employment, at the very timethat there are millions of people who need that factory's product."
Josip said reasonably, "Why, sir, I've come to the conclusion that theWest has some of the same problems we have. And the main one ispoliticians."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Just that," Josip said with dogged glumness. "I ... well, I don'tknow about the old days. A hundred, even fifty years ago, but associety becomes more complicated, more intricate, I simply don't thinkpoliticians are capable of directing it. The main problems are thoseof production and distribution of all the things our science andindustry have learned to turn out. And politicians, all over theworld, seem to foul it up."
Zoran Jankez growled ominously, "Are you suggesting that I amincompetent to direct the United Balkan Soviet Republics?"
"Yes, sir," Josip said brightly, as though the other had encouraged him."That's what I mean. You or any other politician. Industry should be runby trained, competent technicians, scientists, industrialists--and to someextent, maybe, by the consumers, but not by politicians. By definition,politicians know about politics, not industry. But somehow, in the modernworld, governments seem to be taking over the running of industry and evenagriculture. They aren't doing such a good job, sir."
Jankez finally exploded. "Where are you calling from, Pekic?" hedemanded. "You're under arrest!"
Josip Pekic cleared his throat, apologetically. "No, sir," he said."Remember? I'm the average Transbalkanian citizen. And it is to beassumed I'd, well ... react the way any other would. The differenceis, I had the opportunity. I'm in Switzerland."
"Switzerland!" Number One roared. "You've defected. I knew you were atraitor, Pekic. Like father, like son! A true Transbalkanian wouldremain in his country and help it along the road to the future."
The younger man looked worried. "Well, yes, sir," he said. "I thoughtabout that. But I think I've done about as much as I could accomplish.You see, these last few months, protected by those 'can do no wrong'credentials, I've been spreading this message around among all theengineers, technicians, professionals, all the more trained, competentpeople in Transbalkania. You'd be surprised how they took to it. Ithink it's kind of ... well, snowballing. I mean the idea thatpoliticians aren't capable of running industry. That if the UnitedBalkan Soviet Republics are to ever get anywhere, some changes aregoing to have to be made."
Number One could no more than glare.
Josip Pekic, rubbed his nose nervously, and said, in the way ofuneasy farewell, "I just thought it was only fair for me to call youand give a final report. After all, I didn't start all this. Didn'toriginate the situation. It was you a
nd Kardelj who gave me mychance. I just ... well ... expedited things." His face faded fromthe screen, still apologetic of expression.
Zoran Jankez sat there for a long time, staring at the now darkinstrument.
It was the middle of the night when the knock came at the door. Butthen, Zoran Jankez had always thought it would ... finally.
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