"One of the special high priced boys who iron out kinks in groups by joining them and working with them for a while, like that Conference Manager we had with us last year. Every member of the group that hires one has to sign an application for treatment, and a legal release. They are very quiet and don't broadcast what they do or who they talked with, but they have a good record of results. The groups who hire them report better work and easier work. We could use one as a trouble shooter." "Are they a special organization?" someone asked. "I think I've heard of them." "Yes, some sort of a union. I can't remember the name." "What would you expect them to do for us?" asked Irving. "I hear--" Stout said vaguely, his eyes wandering from face to face, "that they have a special tough technique for hard case trouble makers." For those who knew him, the vague look was a veil over some thought which pleased him. Presumably he was thinking the thing which had occurred to them all. * * * * * The culprit might be a member of the Board. There was a sudden cheerful interest visible among them as they wondered who was quarry for the "tough treatment." "I've heard of that," said Wan Lun, remembering. "It has been said that they not only do not inform others of the fact of treatment but frequently do not inform the man under treatment but seem to be only a new friend until--poof." He smiled. "I think the guild name is Manoba. The Manoba Group." Stout said, "They'll probably charge enough for the skill." Wan said, smiling, "I also heard some idle rumor that in a few such cases discord within a group was alleviated by sudden suicide. Presumably a psychologist can grow impatient and push a certain button in the mind--" "Sounds like a good idea," Beldman said. "Do you think if we offered this Manoba the right kind of money--" "You don't mean that, Mister Beldman," cut in the chairman reprovingly. "You're joking again." "We're all great jokers," said Beldman, and laughed. Everyone laughed. "I move we vote a sum for the hiring of a Manoba psychologist." "Seconded, how about five hundred thousand?" "I don't know their fees," the chairman objected cautiously. "You can turn back any surplus. We stand to lose more than that by several orders of magnitude. Spend it at your discretion." "Make it seven hundred thousand. Give him a little more room." "I so move." "Seconded." "Carry it to a vote." They slipped their hands under the table edge before their respective seats, and each man ran his fingers over two buttons concealed there, before him, chose between the _yes_ and the _no_ button and pushed one, the choice of his fingers unseen by the others. Two numbers lit up on the small divided panel before the chairman. He looked at them with his mild face expressionless. "Rejected by one vote."