"I doubt that," Walton snapped. "When you have the release prepared, shoot it up here for my okay. And heaven help you if you deviate from the text I see by as much as a single comma!"
Percy practically backed out of the office.
"Why did you do that?" McLeod asked, puzzled.
"You mean, why did I let him off so lightly?"
McLeod nodded. "In the military," he said, "we'd have a man shot for doing a thing like that."
"This isn't the military," Walton said. "And even though the man behaved like a congenital idiot yesterday, that's not enough evidence to push him into Happysleep. Besides, he knows his stuff. I can't afford to discharge him."
"Are public relations men that hard to come by?"
"No. But he's a good one—and the prospect of having him desert to the other side frightens me. He'll be forever grateful to me now. If I had fired him, he would've had half a dozen anti-Popeek articles in the Citizen before the week was out. And they'd ruin us."
McLeod smiled appreciatively. "You handle your job well, Mr. Walton."