Short Fiction by Mack Reynolds (ready to read books .TXT) 📕

Dr. Braun explained gently. “One said, I am the State, and the other, anything that’s good for my corporation is good for the United States⁠—or something quite similar.”

Crowley sipped at his coffee royal. “Well, anyway, Pat, the day you’re ready to leave that cell, you’d better start worrying cause that’ll mean I don’t need you any more.”

Ross growled, “You didn’t answer my question. Robbed any banks lately, great man?”

The other eyed him coldly. “Take it easy, Buster. Maybe in the early stages of the Common Man Movement we hafta take some strong-arm measures, but that stage’s about finished.”

Patricia O’Gara was interested in spite of herself. She said. “You mean you already have all the money you need?”

He was expansive. Obviously there was nothing to lose with these three and he liked a sounding board. In spite of his alleged contempt for eggheads there was an element in Crowley which wished to impress them, to grant him equal status in their own estimations.

“There’s a devil of a lot to know about big finance. You need a starter, but once you get it, the stuff just rolls in automatic.” He grinned suddenly, almost boyishly. “Especially when you got a certain little advantage, like me.”

Braun said, interestedly, “How do you put your advantage to work?”

“Well, now, I gotta admit we aren’t quite out of the woods. We need more capital to work with, but after tonight we’ll have it. Remember that Brinks job up in New England a long time ago? Well, we got something lined up even bigger. I work with Larry and his boys to pull it. Then there’s another thing cooking that Whitely’s been keeping tabs on. It looks like I.B.M. is going to split its stock, three for one. I gotta attend their next secret executive meeting and find out. If they do, we buy in just before, see? We buy on margin, buy options, all that sort of jazz. Whitely knows all about it. Then we got another big deal in Washington. Looks like the government might devaluate the dollar. Whitely explained it to me, kind of. Anyway, I got to sit in on a conference the President’s gonna have. If they really decide to devalue, then Whitely and me, we go ahead and put every cent we got into Swiss gold. Then the day after devaluation, we switch it all back into dollars again. Double our money. Oh, we got all sorts of angles, Doc.”

“By Caesar,” Braun ejaculated. “You seem to have.”

Patricia had poured herself some coffee and was sipping it, black, even as she stared at him. “But, Don, what do you need all this money for? You already have more than plenty. Why not call it all off. Get out from under.”

Ross grunted, “Too late, Pat. Can’t you see? He’s got the power urge already.”

Crowley ignored him and turned to her, pouring more coffee and cognac for himself. “I’m not running up all this dough just for me. You think you’re the only one’s got ideals, like? Let me tell you, I might just be a country boy but I got ambitions to put some things right in this world.”

“Such as⁠ ⁠…” Patricia prodded, bitterness in her voice.

“Aw, we went through all that the other day. The thing is, now it’s really under way. If you was seeing the newspapers these days, you’d know about the Common Man Party.”

“Oh, oh,” Ross muttered unhappily.

“It’s just getting under way,” Crowley said modestly, “but we’re hiring two of the top Madison Avenue outfits to handle publicity and we’re recruiting some of the best practical politicians in the field.”

“Practical politicians!” Ross snorted. “Types like Huey Long, McCarthy, Pendergast, I suppose.”

The other misunderstood him. “Yeah, and even better. We’re going in big for TV time, full-page ads in the newspapers and magazines. That sort of thing. The average man’s getting tired of the same old talk from the Republicans and Democrats. Paul Teeter thinks we might have a chance in the next election, given enough dough to plow into it.”

Ross leaned back disdainfully. “What a combination. Whitely, the broker who has been barred from activity on Wall Street; Teeter, the crooked politician, but with connections from top to bottom; and Larry, whatever his name is.⁠ ⁠…”

“Morazzoni,” Crowley supplied. “You know where I first ran into his name? In one of them true crime magazines. He’s a big operator.”

“I’ll bet he is,” the redhead growled. “Probably with good Mafia connections. I’m surprised you haven’t attempted to take over that outfit.”

Crowley laughed abruptly. “We’re working on that, pal. Just take it easy and all these things will work their way out. But meanwhile I didn’t bring you jokers here to make snide remarks. I got work for you. I’m fresh out of that serum and you three are going to brew me up another batch.”

They looked at him, Dr. Braun, Ross Wooley, Patricia O’Gara, their faces registering stubbornness, revolt and dismay.

He shook his head. “Larry and some of his boys have experience. I gotta admit, I wouldn’t even want to watch.”

“I’m for standing firm,” Braun said stiffly. “There are but three of us. The most they can do is kill us. But if this man’s insanity is released on the world.⁠ ⁠…”

Crowley was shaking his head in deprecation. “Like when you say the worst we can do is kill you. Man, haven’t you heard about the Nazis and commies and all? You oughta read some of the men’s adventure magazines. How do you think Joe Stalin got all them early Bolsheviks to confess? You think they weren’t tough buzzards? Why make us go to all the trouble, when you’d just cave in eventually anyway? Save yourself the grief.”

Patricia said impatiently, “He’s right, I’m afraid. I would collapse rather quickly under physical coercion. You might last a bit longer, Ross possibly longer still. But in the end we would concede.”

Crowley said, as though in amazement, “You know, eggheads aren’t as stupid as some would reckon. OK, folks, I got a laboratory all