"I don't—oh, yes, it was Swenson."
"You ... you fool ... idiot!"
Neinfort-Whritings handed Lesquallan the Special Message he had taken from Esrov. It was the one from Swenson, which began: "Nuts, Esrov."
Lesquallan read the message. Then he said slowly: "I've dealt with that clown Swenson before—over minor matters. I never thought he had that much brains." He looked at Esrov. "Or insight. Swenson's a smart man. Therefore, he must be eliminated."
"I still maintain," Rovance said, "that the basis of the matter is the strangling of free enterprise."
"I agree," said Lesquallan. "What right has Acme to interfere with free enterprise? They haven't a dollar to our million."
"What shall we do?" Neinfort-Whritings murmured.
"Follow Swenson's suggestion. We're going to the PCC—and we're going to our top contacts. They owe us plenty."
"Shall we dictate a memo?" Esrov put in.
"Call the PCC," Lesquallan ordered. "We're not dictating anything. And we're not sending any messages to anybody. Let the PCC send them!"