"Why not? It'd save money, wouldn't it? A simple ad like, '_Hey, there, Certain Powers! Lookie what we got!_' What'd be wrong with that?" "They'd accuse us of Capitalistic Propaganda, that's what! And to get the egg off our face, we'd have to demonstrate the plane and--" "And be right back where we are now," the President realized aloud, nodding gloomily. "Okay, so what do we do?" The Secretary looked to left and right, although they were alone together in a soundproofed, heavily guarded room, before replying. "We drop an agent!" he whispered. <tb> The President blinked twice before responding. "Have you gone mad? What man in his right mind would volunteer for such a thing? 'Drop an agent,' indeed! Ten minutes after landing, he'd be up against a wall and shot. Wouldn't _that_ be lovely for Freedom and Democracy? We'd have the R--the Certain Powers gloating over the air waves for weeks about nipping a Capitalist Assassination Plot in the bud, not to mention the Mothers of America beating down the White House door because one of Our Boys was sacrificed. You know how our country reacts: If an entire division is wiped out, we bite the bullet and erect statues and make speeches and then forget it. But let a single man get in dutch and the whole populace goes crazy until something is 'done' about it. No, it won't work." "May I finish?" said the Secretary patiently. The President shrugged. "Why not?" "This agent would be something special, sir. One that would not only demonstrate our new aircraft, but which would positively leave the R--damn, you've got _me_ doing it!--Certain Powers tied in knots. In point of fact, our military psychologists think that this agent might be the wedge to split Communism apart in hopeless panic!" "Really?" the President said, with more enthusiasm than he had shown throughout the entire meeting. "I'd like to meet this agent." The Secretary pressed a black button upon the conference table. An instant later, the door opened and the Secretary's personal aide stepped in. "Yes, sir?" "Jenkins, have the corridor cleared and Secret Service men posted at all entrances and exits. When it's safe, bring in Agent X-45." He paused. "And Professor Blake, too." "At once, sir." Jenkins hurried out. "X-45?" said the President. "Has he no name?" The Secretary smiled inscrutably. "Teddy, sir." "Why that smirk?" "You'll see, sir." They sat in fidgety silence for another minute, and then a buzzer sounded, twice. "Ah, that's Jenkins," said the Secretary, and pressed the button once more. Jenkins came in, followed by a tall gray-haired man who carried a large black suitcase. The President arose, and, as Jenkins left the room again, shook hands with the man. "Agent X-45?" he asked. "Professor Charles Blake," the man corrected him calmly. "Agent X-45 is in here." The President stared. "In the _suitcase_? What are we sending? A _dwarf_?"