Evans moved to the contour chair and sat down. He closed his eyes. "You've been out of circulation a long time, Brandon. The world is changing. Government is big business, one of the largest, and it's expanding. We need more men, good men." Evans opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. "You said you've become an expert on forms. Would you consider taking a position as head of the tax department?" he asked abruptly. Brandon lifted his gaze from the desk. "I thought you were with labor?" "I could arrange it." Evans closed his eyes again. "But...." "Think, Brandon. As chief of the bureau, you won't have to answer to anyone, not even the President. You've seen the mess the forms have become. You can straighten it out." "I don't think...." "I'll have it put in writing that no one will bother you." Brandon stared at the papers on his desk. For the first time they were offering him a position he understood, one he could handle. It would be a challenge. He would be in a position to eliminate three-quarters of that damn paperwork. God knew how many like himself were gradually getting snowed under each year. Brandon played with the puppet. The silly face stared back at him with a fixed, smiling expression. "Tell me, Evans," he asked idly. "Why so much effort to locate me in a government position? I've had no special training; this is the first offer I'm even qualified enough to accept." He lifted the puppet face high, gazed at its face. "For ten years I've been pestered." Evans laughed as he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "You have determination and will-power. We need that type of nature these days more than ever." Evans' smile became wide. "And you will be one less taxpayer we will have to worry about now. You'll be on our side." Evans pushed all the forms from Brandon's desk with a sweep of his tanned hand. "Forget all of that, Brandon, forever. No more taxes for you. This is the last form you will have to sign. It appoints you Secretary of Taxation, carte blanche." "You had all this prepared?" Brandon said in amazement. Evans' smile grew wider. "We knew you couldn't refuse an intelligent offer, one where you would be useful." "We!" "The cabinet and myself." Brandon picked up the pen, twisted it between his fingers. Evans was right, of course. He would be useful. Half those damn forms were filled with worthless nonsense that could easily be eliminated. Deductions should be higher; small, independent business should be given a break. And he could handle the job--that was important. "Just sign on the bottom line," Evans said smoothly, pushing the broken puppet out of the way. The puppet fell to the floor and the head came off again. "Forget it," Evans said quickly.