The lobby of the Public Relations Bureau was swarming like an upturned anthill when Pete disembarked from the taxi. He could almost smell the desperate tension of the place. He fought his way past scurrying clerks and preoccupied poll-takers toward the executive elevators in the rear. On the newly finished seventeenth floor, he found Tommy Heinz pacing the corridor like an expectant young father. Tommy had lost weight since Pete had last seen him. His ruddy face was paler, his hair thin and ragged as though chunks had been torn out from time to time. He saw Pete step off the elevator, and ran forward with open arms. "I thought you'd never get here!" he groaned. "When you didn't call, I was afraid you'd let me down." "Me?" said Pete. "I'd never let down a pal." The sarcasm didn't dent Tommy. He led Pete through the ante-room into the plush director's office, bouncing about excitedly, his words tumbling out like a waterfall. He looked as though one gentle shove might send him yodeling down Market Street in his underdrawers. "Hold it," said Pete. "Relax, I'm not going to leave for a while yet. Your girl screamed something about a senator as we came in. Did you hear her?" Tommy gave a violent start. "Senator! Oh, dear." He flipped a desk switch. "What senator is that?" "Senator Stokes," the girl said wearily. "He had an appointment. He's ready to have you fired." "All I need now is a senator," Tommy said. "What does he want?" "Guess," said the girl. "Oh. That's what I was afraid of. Can you keep him there?" "Don't worry about that," said the girl. "He's growing roots. They swept around him last night, and dusted him off this morning. His appointment was for _yesterday_, remember?" "Remember! Of course I remember. Senator Stokes--something about a riot in Boston." He started to flip the switch, then added, "See if you can get Charlie down here with his giz." He turned back to Pete with a frantic light in his eye. "Good old Pete. Just in time. Just. Eleventh-hour reprieve. Have a drink, have a cigar--do you want my job? It's yours. Just speak up." "I fail to see," said Pete, "just why you had to drag me all the way from L.A. to have a cigar. I've got work to do." "Selling movies, right?" said Tommy. "Check." "To people who don't want to buy them, right?" "In a manner of speaking," said Pete testily. "Exactly," said Tommy. "Considering some of the movies you've been selling, you should be able to sell anything to anybody, any time, at any price." "Please. Movies are getting Better by the Day."