He shrugged: "Say it, somebody. The Mob's gunning for us." Reiner jumped to his feet. "I will _never_ support such a hypothesis!" he shrilled. "It is _mischievous_ to imply that a century of peace has been ended, that our three-thousand-mile border with our friend to the West--" Taylor intoned satirically: "_Un_-blemished, my friends, by a _single_ for-ti-fi-_ca_-tion--" Edward Falcaro yelled: "Stop your damn foolishness, Frank Taylor! This is no laughing matter." Taylor snapped: "Have you been in Mob Territory lately?" "I have," the old man said. He scowled. "How'd you like it?" Edward Falcaro shrugged irritably. "They have their ways, we have ours. The Regan line is running thin, but we're not going to forget that Jimmy Regan stood shoulder to shoulder with Amadeo Falcaro in the old days. There's such a thing as loyalty." F. W. Taylor said: "There's such a thing as blindness." He had gone too far. Edward Falcaro rose from his chair and leaned forward, bracing himself on the table. He said flatly: "This is a statement, gentlemen. I won't pretend I'm happy about the way things are in Mob Territory. I won't pretend I think old man Regan is a balanced, dependable person. I won't pretend I think the Mob clients are enjoying anywhere near the service that Syndic clients enjoy. I'm perfectly aware that on our visits of state to Mob Territory we see pretty much what our hosts want us to see. But I cannot believe that any group which is rooted on the principles of freedom and service can have gone very wrong. "Maybe I'm mistaken, gentlemen. But I cannot believe that a descendant of Jimmy Regan would order a descendant of Amadeo Falcaro murdered. We will consider every other possibility first. Frank, is that clear?" "Yes," Taylor said. "All right," Edward Falcaro grunted. "Now let's go about this thing systematically. Dick, you go right down the line with the charge that the Government's responsible for these atrocities. I hate to think that myself. If they are, we're going to have to spend a lot of time and trouble hunting them down and doing something about it. As long as they stick to a little commerce-raiding and a few coastal attacks, I can't say I'm really unhappy about them. They don't do much harm, and they keep us on our toes and--maybe this one is most important--they keep our client's memories of the bad old days that we delivered them from alive. That's a great deal to surrender for the doubtful pleasures of a long, expensive campaign. If assassination's in the picture I suppose we'll have to knock them off--but we've got to be _sure_." "May I speak?" Reiner asked icily. The old man nodded and re-lit his cigar.