by Clee Garson
laugh.
Patricia by now, was bent over the unconscious Ross crying even as shetried to help him.
Crowley said to the silent, all but disinterested Larry, "Have thesethree put in separate rooms in that section they used for the violentwing when the place was a nuthouse. Have a good guard and see they don'ttalk back and forth."
"You're the boss," Larry said languidly.
* * * * *
Crowley was thorough. For that they had to give him credit. They werekept divided, each in a different room-cell and with at least two burly,efficient guards on constant watch. They were fed on army-type trays andtheir utensils checked carefully. There was no communicationallowed--even with the guard.
The second day, Crowley took measures to see their disappearance raisedno alarm at either their place of employment or at their residences.This raised few problems since all were single and all had alreadytaken off both from the job and from their homes in order to carry outtheir experiment. Crowley forced them to write further notes and lettersfinding excuses for extending their supposed vacations. He also hadLarry return to the hotel suite, pay their bill, pack their things andbring them to the Catskill estate which had become their prison.
He had them make up lists of materials and equipment they would need forfurther manufacture of the serum upon which they had stumbled, and sentoff men to acquire the things.
And on three occasions during the following weeks he had them broughtfrom their cells and spent an hour or so with them at lunch or dinner.Crowley evidently needed an audience beyond that of his henchmen. Therelease of his basic character, formerly repressed, was progressinggeometrically and there seemed to be an urgency to crow, to brag, toboast.
On the third of these occasions he was already seated at the table whenthey were ushered into the dining room. Crowley dismissed the guardswith a wave of his hand as though they were liveried servants.
All had eaten but there were liqueurs and coffee, cigars and cigaretteson the broad table.
Ross sank into a chair and growled, "Well, what hath the great manwrought by now?"
Crowley grinned at him, poured coffee and then a dollop of Napoleonbrandy into it. He gestured with a hand. "Help yourselves, folks. Howyou feeling? You been getting all the books you wanted? You look kind ofpeaked, Pat."
"Miss O'Gara to you, you ape with delusions of grandeur," she snapped."When are you going to let us out of those prison cells?"
Crowley wasn't provoked. The strong can afford to laugh at themalcontented weak. "That's one of the things you never know," he saideasily. "You sure you want out? Something the Doc said the other day hada lotta fact in it. The fewer people know about this secret of mine, thebetter off I'll be and the better off I am, the better off the wholecountry is going to be and I gotta think about that. I gotresponsibilities."
"A combination of Engine Charley and Louis XIV, eh?" Ross muttered,running his beefy hand back over his crew cut. It was a relief to getout of his room and talk with the others, but he didn't want Crowley tosee that.
"What's that?" the other was impatient of conversation that went abovehis head.
Dr. Braun explained gently. "One said, _I am the State_, and the other,_anything that's good for my corporation is good for the UnitedStates_--or something quite similar."
Crowley sipped at his coffee royal. "Well, anyway, Pat, the day you'reready to leave that cell, you'd better start worrying cause that'll meanI don't need you any more."
Ross growled, "You didn't answer my question. Robbed any banks lately,great man?"
The other eyed him coldly. "Take it easy, Buster. Maybe in the earlystages of the Common Man Movement we hafta take some strong-armmeasures, but that stage's about finished."
Patricia O'Gara was interested in spite of herself. She said. "You meanyou already have all the money you need?"
He was expansive. Obviously there was nothing to lose with these threeand he liked a sounding board. In spite of his alleged contempt foreggheads there was an element in Crowley which wished to impress them,to grant him equal status in their own estimations.
"There's a devil of a lot to know about big finance. You need a starter,but once you get it, the stuff just rolls in automatic." He grinnedsuddenly, almost boyishly. "Especially when you got a certain littleadvantage, like me."
Braun said, interestedly, "How do you put your advantage to work?"
"Well, now, I gotta admit we aren't quite out of the woods. We need morecapital to work with, but after tonight we'll have it. Remember thatBrinks job up in New England a long time ago? Well, we got somethinglined up even bigger. I work with Larry and his boys to pull it. Thenthere's another thing cooking that Whitely's been keeping tabs on. Itlooks like IBM is going to split its stock, three for one. I gottaattend their next secret executive meeting and find out. If they do, webuy in just before, see? We buy on margin, buy options, all that sort ofjazz. Whitely knows all about it. Then we got another big deal inWashington. Looks like the government might devaluate the dollar.Whitely explained it to me, kind of. Anyway, I got to sit in on aconference the President's gonna have. If they really decide to devalue,then Whitely and me, we go ahead and put every cent we got into Swissgold. Then the day after devaluation, we switch it all back into dollarsagain. Double our money. Oh, we got all sorts of angles, Doc."
"By Caesar," Braun ejaculated. "You seem to have."
* * *
Patricia had poured herself some coffee and was sipping it, black, evenas she stared at him. "But, Don, what do you need all this money for?You already have more than plenty. Why not call it all off. Get out fromunder."
Ross grunted, "Too late, Pat. Can't you see? He's got the power urgealready."
Crowley ignored him and turned to her, pouring more coffee and cognacfor himself. "I'm not running up all this dough just for me. You thinkyou're the only one's got ideals, like? Let me tell you, I might just bea country boy but I got ambitions to put some things right in thisworld."
"Such as...." Patricia prodded, bitterness in her voice.
"Aw, we went through all that the other day. The thing is, now it'sreally under way. If you was seeing the newspapers these days, you'dknow about the Common Man Party."
"Oh, oh," Ross muttered unhappily.
"It's just getting under way," Crowley said modestly, "but we're hiringtwo of the top Madison Avenue outfits to handle publicity and we'rerecruiting some of the best practical politicians in the field."
"Practical politicians!" Ross snorted. "Types like Huey Long, McCarthy,Pendergast, I suppose."
The other misunderstood him. "Yeah, and even better. We're going in bigfor TV time, full-page ads in the newspapers and magazines. That sort ofthing. The average man's getting tired of the same old talk from theRepublicans and Democrats. Paul Teeter thinks we might have a chance inthe next election, given enough dough to plow into it."
Ross leaned back disdainfully. "What a combination. Whitely, the brokerwho has been barred from activity on Wall Street; Teeter, the crookedpolitician, but with connections from top to bottom; and Larry, whateverhis name is...."
"Morazzoni," Crowley supplied. "You know where I first ran into hisname? In one of them true crime magazines. He's a big operator."
"I'll bet he is," the redhead growled. "Probably with good Mafiaconnections. I'm surprised you haven't attempted to take over thatoutfit."
Crowley laughed abruptly. "We're working on that, pal. Just take it easyand all these things will work their way out. But meanwhile I didn'tbring you jokers here to make snide remarks. I got work for you. I'mfresh out of that serum and you three are going to brew me up anotherbatch."
They looked at him, Dr. Braun, Ross Wooley, Patricia O'Gara, their facesregistering stubbornness, revolt and dismay.
He shook his head. "Larry and some of his boys have experience. I gottaadmit, I wouldn't even want to watch."
"I'm for standing firm," Braun said stiffly. "There are but three of us.The most they can do is
kill us. But if this man's insanity is releasedon the world...."
Crowley was shaking his head in deprecation. "Like when you say theworst we can do is kill you. Man, haven't you heard about the Nazis andcommies and all? You oughta read some of the men's adventure magazines.How do you think Joe Stalin got all them early Bolsheviks to confess?You think they weren't tough buzzards? Why make us go to all thetrouble, when you'd just cave in eventually anyway? Save yourself thegrief."
Patricia said impatiently, "He's right, I'm afraid. I