Larry said, “What's it all about?”
Ruthenberg said unhappily, “It started early this morning. We don't know exactly when as yet.” Which didn't seem to answer the question.
Larry said, “I don't get it. Obviously, the Records department is fouled up in some manner. How, and why?”
“How, we know,” the Boss rumbled disgustedly. “Why is another matter. You've spent more time than anyone else on this assignment, Lawrence. Perhaps you can tell us.” He grabbed up a pipe from his desk, tried to light it noisily, noticed finally that it held no tobacco and threw it to the desk again. “Evidently, a large group of these Movement individuals either already worked in Records or wriggled themselves into key positions in the technical end of the department. Now they've sabotaged the files.”
“We've caught most of them already,” one of the F.B.I. men growled, “but damn little good that does us at this point.”
The C.I.A. supervisor made a gesture indicating that he gave it all up. “Not only here but in Chicago and San Francisco as well. All at once. Evidently perfectly rehearsed. Personnel records from coast to coast are bollixed. Why?”
Larry said slowly, “I think I know that now. Yesterday, I wouldn't have but I've been picking up odds and ends.”
They all looked at him.
Larry sat down and ran a hand back through his hair. “The general idea is to change the country's reliance on social-label judgments.”