esitated momentarily, before adding, "In
possible return for future--"

"Yeah, yeah," Larry said. He was fully awake now.

The German said slowly, "You asked if any of your friends from, ah, abroad
were newly in the country. Frol Eivazov has recently appeared on the
scene."

Eivazov! In various respects, Larry Woolford's counterpart. Hatchetman for
the _Chrezvychainaya Komissiya_. Woolford had met him on occasion when
they'd both been present at international summit meetings, busily working
at counter-espionage for their respective superiors. Blandly shaking hands
with each other, blandly drinking toasts to peace and international
co-existence, blandly sizing each other up and wondering if it'd ever come
to the point where one would _blandly_ treat the other to a hole in the
head, possibly in some dark alley in Havana or Singapore, Leopoldville or
Saigon.

Larry said sharply, "Where is he? How'd he get in the country?"

"My friend, my friend," the German grunted good-humoredly. "You know
better than to ask the first question. As for the second, Frol's command
of American-English is at least as good as your own. Do you think his
_Komissiya_ less capable than your own department and unable to do him up
suitable papers so that he could be, perhaps, a 'returning tourist' from
Europe?"

Larry Woolford was impatient with himself for asking. He said now, "It's
not important. If we want to locate Frol and pick him up, we'll probably
not have too much trouble doing it."

"I wouldn't think so," the other said humorously. "Since 1919, when they
were first organized, the so-called Communists in this country, from the
lowest to the highest echelons, have been so riddled with police agents
that a federal judge in New England once refused to prosecute a case
against them on the grounds that the party was a United States government
agency."

Larry was in no frame of mind for the other's heavy humor. "Look, Hans,"
he said, "what I want to know is what Frol is over here for."

"Of course you do," Hans Distelmayer said, unable evidently to keep note
of puzzlement from his voice. "Larry," he said, "I assume your people know
of the new American underground."

"_What_ underground?" Larry snapped.

The professional spy chief said, his voice strange, "The Soviets seem to
have picked up an idea somewhere, possibly through their membership in
this country, that something is abrewing in the States. That a change is
being engineered.