Day After Tomorrow

XII

He came out of the fog feeling nausea and with his head splitting. He groaned and opened one eye experimentally.

Steve Hackett’s voice said, “The cloddy is snapping out of it.” He sounded far away.

Larry groaned again, opened the other eye and attempted to focus.

“What happened?” he muttered.

“Oh, great. What happened, he says. Now that’s an original question,” Steve said in disgust.

Larry Woolford struggled up into a sitting position. He’d been stretched out on a couch in the Professor’s combined living room and study.

Steve Hackett, his hands on his hips, was looking down at him sarcastically. There were three or four others, one of whom Larry vaguely remembered as being a Secret Service colleague of Steve’s, going about and in and out of the room.

Larry said, his fingers pressing into his forehead. “My head’s killing me. Damn it, what’s going on?”

Steve said sarcastically, “You’ve been slipped a mickey, my cloak and dagger friend, and the bird has flown. And evidently, what a bird.”

“You mean the Professor? He’s a bird all right.”

“Leave us depart the field of humor,” Hackett said, his ugly face scowling. “Listen, I thought you people had pulled out of this case.”

Larry sat up and swung his two feet around to the floor. “So did I,” he said, or rather moaned. “But there were two or three things that bothered me and I thought I’d tidy them up before leaving.”

“You tidied them up, all right,” Steve grumbled. “This Professor Voss was practically the only lead I’ve been able to discover. An old friend of Self’s. And you allowed him to get away before we even got here.”

One of Hackett’s men came up and said, “Not a sign of him, Steve. He evidently burned a few papers, packed a suitcase, and took off. His things look suspiciously like he was ready to go into hiding at a moment’s notice.”

Steve growled at him, “Give the place the works. Let’s hope he’s left some clues around that’ll give us a line.”

The other went off and Steve Hackett sat down on one of the leather chairs and glowered at Larry Woolford. “Listen,” he said, “what did you people want with Susan Self?”

Larry shook his head for clarity and took the other in. He said, “Susan? What are you talking about? You don’t have any aspirin, do you?”

“No. What do you mean, what am I talking about? You called Betsy Hughes and then sent a couple of men over to pick the Self kid up.”

“Who’s Betsy Hughes?” Larry Woolford complained. “I’ve never heard of her.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know what kind of knockout drops the old boy gave you, but they sure as hell worked. Betsy’s the operative we put on to mind Susan Self in the Greater Washington Hilton. About an hour ago you got her on the phone, said your department wanted to question Susan, and that you were sending two men over to pick her up. The two men turned up with an order from you, and took the girl. Now do you remember?”

Larry gawked at him. Finally he said, “Listen, Steve, what time is it?”

Steve looked at his watch. “It’s almost two o’clock.”

Larry said, “I came into this house in the morning. I talked to the Professor for about half an hour and then was silly enough to let him give me some loaded coffee. He was such a weird old buzzard that it never occurred to me that he might be dangerous. At any rate, I’ve been unconscious for several hours. I couldn’t have called this Betsy Hughes operative of yours, and I sure as hell didn’t write any order to turn Susan over to two men from our department.”

It was Steve Hackett’s turn to stare. “Do you mean to tell me that you people don’t have Susan Self?”

Larry shook his head, which he found to be a mistake since the motion increased his splitting headache. He said, “Not so far as I know. The Boss told me yesterday that we were pulling out, that it was all in your hands. What in the devil would we want with Susan?”

“Oh, great,” Steve snarled. “There goes our last contact. Ernest Self, Professor Voss, and now Susan Self; they’ve all disappeared. And if they’ve gone to ground, we’ll have our work cut out finding them. None of them have a criminal record. We don’t even have their fingerprints.”

“Look,” Larry said, suppressing a groan, “let’s get me some aspirin and then let’s go and see my chief. I have a sneaking suspicion that our department is back on this case.”

Steve snorted his sarcasm. “If you can foul things up this well when you’re off the case, God only knows what you’ll accomplish using your facilities on an all-out basis.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Larry told him.

The Boss said slowly, “Whoever we are working against evidently isn’t short of resources. Abducting that young lady right out from under our noses was no simple matter. I hope the farce doesn’t ever get into the newspapers. Both of our departments would look awfully inefficient.” The career bureaucraft worked his lips in and out in the nearest thing to a pout his heavy face was capable of.

Larry Woolford, who had taken the time to go home, shower, change clothes and medicate himself out of his dope induced hangover, sat across the desk from him, flanked by Steve Hackett.

The Boss said sourly, “It would seem that I was in error. That our young Susan Self was not spouting fantasy. There evidently is an underground movement interested in changing our institutions.” He stirred in his chair and his scowl went deeper. “And evidently working on a basis never conceived of by subversive organizations in the past. The fact that they have successfully remained secret even to this department is the prime indication that they are attempting to make their revolutionary changes in a unique manner.”

Larry said, “The trouble is, sir, that we don’t even know what it is they want.”

“However,” his superior said slowly, “we are be—beginning to get some inklings.”

Steve Hackett said, “What inklings, sir? This sort of thing might be routine for you people, but my field is counterfeit. I, frankly, don’t know what its all about.”

The Boss turned his eyes to the Secret Service man. “We have a clue or two, Mr. Hackett. For one thing, we know that this Movement of ours has no affiliation with the Soviet Complex, nor, so far as we know, any foreign element whatsover. If we take Miss Self’s word, it is strictly an American phenomenon. From what little we know of Ernest Self and Peter Voss they might be in revolt against some of our current institutions but there is no reason to believe them, ah, un-American in the usually accepted sense of the word.”

The two younger men looked at him as though he was joking.

He shook his heavy head negatively. “Actually, what do we have on this so-called Movement thus far? Aside from treating Lawrence, here, to some knockout drops—and let us remember that Lawrence was present in the Professor’s home without a warrant—all we have is the suspicion that they have manufactured a quantity of counterfeit.”

“A quantity is right,” Steve Hackett blurted. “If we’re expected to accept what that Self kid told us, they have a few billion dollars worth of perfect bills on hand.”

A strange amount for counterfeiters to produce,” the Boss said uncomfortably. “That is what puzzles me. Any revolutionary movement needs funds. Remember Stalin as a young man? He used to be in charge of the Bolshevik gang which robbed banks to raise funds for their underground newspapers and other activities. But a billion dollars? What in the world can they expect to need that amount for?”

Larry said, “Sir, you keep talking as though these characters were a bunch of idealistic do-gooders bleeding for the sake of the country. Actually, from what we know, they’re nothing but a bunch of revolutionists.”

The Boss shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly, Lawrence. Revolution, per se, is not illegal in the United States. Our Constitution was probably the first document of its kind which allowed for its own amendment. The men who wrote it provided for changing it either slightly or en toto. Whenever the majority of the American people decide completely to abandon the Constitution and govern themselves by new laws, no matter how revolutionary they might be by present standards, they have the right to do it.”

“Then what’s the whole purpose of this department, sir?” Larry argued. “Why have we been formed to combat foreign and domestic subversion?”

His chief sighed. “You shouldn’t have to ask that, Lawrence. The present government cannot oppose the will of the majority if it votes, by constitutional methods, to make any changes it wishes. But we can, and do, unmask the activities of anyone trying to overthrow the government by force and violence, or any other method not consistent with the Constitution. Any culture protects itself against that.”

“What are we getting at, sir?” Steve Hackett said, impatient.

The Boss shrugged lardly shoulders. “I’m trying to point out that so far as my department is concerned, thus far we have little against this Movement. Secret Service may have, what with this wholesale counterfeiting, even though thus far they seem to have made no attempt to pass the currency they have allegedly manufactured. We wouldn’t even know of it, if it weren’t for our young Susan pilfering an amount.”

Larry said, desperately, “Sir, you just pointed out a few minutes ago that this Movement is a secret organization trying to make changes in the government in some unique manner. In short, they don’t figure on using the ballot to put over their revolution. That makes them as illegal as the Commies, doesn’t it?”

The Boss said, “That’s the difficulty; we don’t know what they want. From your conversations with Susan Self and especially with Professor Voss, evidently they think the country needs some basic changes. What these changes are, and how they expect to accomplish them, we don’t know. Unless a foreign government is involved, or unless they plan to alter our institutions by violence, this department simply doesn’t have much jurisdiction.”

Steve Hackett snorted. “Secret Service has! If those bales of money are ever put into circulation, there’ll be hell to pay.”

The Boss sighed, “Well,” he said, “Lawrence can continue on the assignment. If it develops that this department is justified in further investigation, we’ll put more men on it. Meanwhile, it is obviously more a Secret Service matter. I am sorry to instrude upon your vacation again, Lawrence.”

“Not at all, sir,” Larry said nobly. It didn’t do his credit with the old man any harm to make sacrifices for the sake of the department.