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 a.s.signment 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."

"Ah?"

"I want to know where I can find him."

The German's voice was humorously gruff. "My friend, my friend."

Larry said impatiently, "I'm not interested in arresting him at this time.

I want to talk to him."

The other said heavily. "This goes beyond favors, my friend. On the face of it, I am not in business for my health. And what you ask is dangerous from my viewpoint. You realize that upon occasion my organization does small tasks for the Soviets...."

"Ha!" Larry said bitterly.

"... And," the German continued, unruffled, "it is hardly to my interest to gain the reputation of betraying my sometimes employers. Were you on an a.s.signment in, say, Bulgaria or Hungary, would you expect me to betray you to the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_?"

"Not unless somebody paid you enough to make it worth while," Larry said dryly.

"Exactly," the espionage chief said.

"Look," Larry said. "Send your bill to this department, Hans. I've been given carte blanche on this matter and I want to talk to Frol. Now, where is he?"

The German chuckled heavily. "At the Soviet Emba.s.sy."

"What! You mean they've got the gall to house their top spy right in-"

Distelmayer interrupted him. "Friend Eivazov is currently accredited as a military attache and quite correctly. He holds the rank of colonel, you know. He entered this country quite legally, the only precaution taken was to use his second name, Kliment, instead of Frol, on his papers.

Evidently, your people pa.s.sed him by without a second look. Ah, I understand he went to the trouble of making some minor changes in his facial appearance."

"We'll expect your bill, Distelmayer," Larry said. "Good-by."

He got up and reached for his hat, saying to Irene Day, "I don't know how long I'll be gone." He added, wryly, "If either Foster or the Boss try to get in touch with me, tell them I'm carrying out orders."

He drove over to the Soviet Emba.s.sy, parked his car directly before the building.

The American plainclothesmen stationed near the entrance, gave him only a quick onceover as he pa.s.sed. Inside the gates, the impa.s.sive Russian guards didn't bother to flicker an eyelid.

At the reception desk in the immense entrada, he identified himself. "I'd like to see Colonel Frol Eivazov."

"I am afraid-" the clerk began stiffly.

"I suppose you have him on the records as Kliment Eivazov."

The clerk had evidently touched a concealed b.u.t.ton. A door opened and a junior emba.s.sy official approached them.

Larry restated his desire. The other began to open his mouth in denial, then shrugged. "Just a moment," he said.

He was gone a full twenty minutes. When he returned, he said briefly, "This way, please."

Frol Eivazov was in an inner office, in full uniform. He came to his feet when Larry Woolford entered and said to the clerk, "That will be all, Vova." He was a tall man, as Slavs go, but heavy of build and heavy of face.

He shook hands with Larry. "It's been a long time," he said in perfect English. "That conference in Warsaw, wasn't it? Have a chair, Mr.

Woolford."

Larry took the offered chair and said, "How in the world did you expect to get by with this nonsense? We'll have you declared _persona non grata_ in a matter of hours."

"It's not important," Eivazov shrugged. "I have found what I came to find.

I was about to return to report any way."

"We won't do anything to hinder you, colonel," Larry said dryly.

Eivazov snapped his fingers. "It's all amusing," he said. "In our country we would quickly deal with this Movement nonsense. You Americans with your pseudo-democracy, your labels without reality, your-"

Larry said wearily, "Please, Frol, I promise not to convert you if you promise not to convert me. Needless to say, my department isn't happy about your presence in this country. You'll be watched from now on. We've been busy with other matters...."

Here the Russian laughed.