"I'm hep to your devious mind," giggled Everett. "You charlatan, you've
got it figured that he's one of my associates."

"You're stoned," said Cam, leading his obese charge stumbling and
falling out of the Caribbean grotto, past the Michael Mouse shrine and
the framed Exceptional T & E Vouchers (to which no exception had been
taken, thus attesting to the achievement of their authors).

"Get this, you call-boy of the communications complex," shrilled Everett
hilariously in the muted beauty of the business-card foyer. "You're
right; he is one of our _Gestalt_; but there's a couple more. And Our
Gang will cost you, Schofft, cost like crazy.... But you'll pay, through
the nose; because your clients will pay through the nose and ears! He,
he, he!" The pained features of the maitre d' reflected exquisite pain
as he ushered them into the sunlight.

Cam's car materialized at the curb, and he hustled the sodden Ev into
its dark, merciful confines.

"Granted that this entire affair is not some outre hoax ... a
possibility on which I don't entirely close the door ... your
'merchandise' might better be labelled _Tel_empathy," said Cam.

"Button-down lingo," sneered Ev.

"What is that miniature monster in your pocket ... Marmoset? Mutated
rat?"

"Super-mongoose. The result of certain esoteric nuclear experiments off
Madagascar."

They hove to at "MAB"--the Merchandising Arts Building, West Coast hub
of influence on the docile consumer.

They floated up the exterior tube to the 39th Floor (Socio-Economic)
which was actually the hotbed of the political efforts of Cam and his
associates. Entry through the wall-port brought them face-to-fang with
Father Sowles ("Save Your Souls With Sowles"). The lank, fiery
pulpit-pounder had been tabbed as a political natural by certain elders
whose money was known as wise; and in consequence, his campaign for the
Directorship of North America's Western Zone was being master-minded by
Pacific Persuaders, Inc., a pseudopod of the MAB complex.

The crusader struck a Charlton Heston pose and snarled: "In the name of
Christendom, what peculiar intruder bring you before me?"

Everett meticulously assayed the gaunt, fanatic figure before him, clad
in apostolic robes. "I'll do a lot for a dollar, as the girl said to the
soldier, but this is ludicrous. Who needs Telempathy? This cat is so
phony, any gossoon can peg him."

Sowles motioned to a monkish aide at a desk, who scribbled furiously in