The phone lit as LaVerne said, “The Boss wants to talk to you, Larry.” Her face faded and Larry’s superior was scowling at him. He snapped, “Did you get anything on this medical records thing, Woolford?” “Medical records?” Larry said blankly. The Boss grunted in deprecation. “No, I suppose you haven’t. I wish you would snap into it, Woolford. I don’t know what has happened to you of late. I used to think that you were a good field man.” He flicked off abruptly. Larry dialed LaVerne Polk. “What in the world was the Boss just talking about, LaVerne? About medical records?” LaVerne said, frowning, “Didn’t you know? The Movement’s been at it again. They’ve fouled up the records of the State Medical Licensing bureaus, at the same time sabotaging the remaining records of most, if not all, of the country’s medical schools. They struck simultaneously, throughout the country.” He looked at her, expressionlessly. LaVerne said, “We’ve caught several hundred of those responsible. It’s the same thing. Attack of the social-label. From now on, if a man tells you he’s an Ear, Eye and Throat specialist, you’d better do some investigation before letting him amputate your tongue. You’d better use your judgment before letting _any_ doctor you don’t really know about, work on you. It’s a madhouse, Larry.” ------------------------------------- Larry Woolford, for long moments after LaVerne had broken the connection, stared unseeingly at his secretary across from him until she stirred. He brought his eyes back to the present. “Another preliminary move, not the important thing, yet. Not the big explosion they’re figuring on. Where have they taken that money, and why?” Irene Day blinked at him. “I don’t know, I’m sure, sir.” Larry said, “Get me Mr. Foster on the phone, Irene.” When Walt Foster’s unhappy face faded in, Larry said, “Walt did you get Frol Eivazov?” “Eivazov?” the other said impatiently. “No. We haven’t spent much effort on it. I think this hunch of yours is like the other ones you’ve been having lately, Woolford. Frol Eivazov was last reported by our operatives as being in North Korea.” “It wasn’t a hunch,” Larry said tightly. “He’s in this country on an assignment dealing with the Movement.” “Well, that’s your opinion,” Foster said snappishly. “I’m busy, Woolford. See here, at present you’re under my orders on this job. In the way of something to do, instead of sitting around in that office, why don’t you follow up this Eivazov thing yourself?” He considered it a moment. “That’s an order, Woolford. Even if you don’t locate him, it’ll keep you out of our hair.” After the other was gone, Larry Woolford leaned back in his chair, his face flushed as though the other had slapped it. In a way, he had. Larry said slowly, “Miss Day, dial me Hans Distelmayer. His offices are over in the Belmont Building.” As always, the screen remained blank as the German spy master spoke. Larry said, “Hans, I want to talk to Frol Eivazov.”