He stared down at the dozen or more books and pamphlets that his never seen secretary had heaped up for him. Well, he certainly didn't have time for them now.
He sat down at the desk and dialed an inter-office number.
The harassed looking face of Walter Foster faded in. On seeing Larry Woolford he growled accusingly, “My pal. You've let them dump this whole thing into my lap.”
Larry grinned at him. “Better you than me, old buddy. Besides, it's a promotion. Pull this off and you'll be the Boss' right-hand man.”
“That's a laugh,” Foster said. “It's a madhouse. This Movement gang is as weird as they come.”
“I bleed for you,” Larry said. “However, here's a tip. Frol Eivazov, of the Chrezvychainaya Komissiya is somewhere in the country.”
“Frol Eivazov!” Foster blurted. “What've the Commies got to do with this? Is this something the Boss knows about?”
“Haven't had time to go into it with him,” Larry said. “However, it seems that friend Frol is here to find out what the Movement is all about. Evidently the big boys in Peking and Moscow are nervous about any changes that might take place over here. I suggest you have him picked up, Walt.”
Walt Foster said, “O.K. I'll put some people on it. Maybe the F.B.I. can help.”