"You haven't seen anything yet," Lee told him, and kissed Charles on the mouth. The man choked: "I shall certainly report this to the authorities when we arrive in Buffalo!" "Mmm," said Lee, preoccupied. "Do that, mister. Do that." XXII "I didn't like his reaction," Charles told her in the anteroom of F. W. Taylor's office. "I didn't talk to him long on the phone, but I don't like his reaction at all. He seemed to think I was exaggerating. Or all wet. Or a punk kid." "I can assure him you're not that," Lee Falcaro said warmly. "Call on me any time." He gave her a worried smile. The door opened then and they went in. Uncle Frank looked up. "We'd just about written you two off," he said. "What's it like?" "Bad," Charles said. "Worse than anything you've imagined. There's an underground, all right, and they are practicing assassination." "Too bad," the old man said. "We'll have to shake up the bodyguard organization. Make 'em de rigeur at all hours, screen 'em and see that they really know how to shoot. I hate to meddle, but we can't have the Government knocking our people off." "It's worse than that," Lee said. "There's a tie-up between the Government and the Mob. We got away from Ireland aboard a speed boat and we were picked up by a Mob lakes ore ship. It had been running gasoline and ammunition to the Government. Jimmy Regan was in charge of the deal. We jumped into Lake Michigan and made our way back here. We were in Mob Territory--down among the small-timers--long enough to establish that the Mob and Government are hand in glove. One of these day's they're going to jump us." "Ah," Taylor said softly. "I've thought so for a long time." Charles burst out: "Then for God's sake, Uncle Frank, why haven't you _done_ anything? You don't know what it's like out there. The Government's a nightmare. They have slaves. And the Mob's not much better. Numbers! Restrictions! Permits! Passes! And they don't call it that, but they have taxes!" "They're mad," Lee said. "Quite mad. And I'm talking technically. Neurotics and psychotics swarm in the streets of Mob Territory. The Government, naturally--but the Mob was a shock. We've got to get ready, Mr. Taylor. Every psychotic or severe neurotic in Syndic Territory is a potential agent of theirs." "Don't just check off the Government, darling," Charles said tensely. "They've got to be smashed. They're no good to themselves or anybody else. Life's a burden there if only they knew it. And they're holding down the natives by horrible cruelty." Taylor leaned back and asked: "What do you recommend?" Charles said: "A fighting fleet and an army." Lee said: "Mass diagnosis of the unstable. Screening of severe cases and treatment where it's indicated. Riveredge must be a plague-spot of agents." Taylor shook his head and told them: "It won't do."