They were throwing these curves too fast for Joe. Noted among his
senior officers as a quick man, thinking on his feet, he still wasn't
up to this sort of thing. "Budapest!" he ejaculated. "The capital of
the Sov-world? But ... but _why_--?"

Philip Holland looked at him patiently. "There are many ramifications
to revolution, Joe. Particularly in this present day with its Frigid
Fracas which has gone on for generations between the West-world and
the Sov-world and with the Neut-world standing at the sidelines
glaring at us both. You see, really efficient revolutions may simply
not look like revolutions at all--just unusual results of historic
accidents. And if we're going to make this one peacefully, we've got
to take every measure to assure efficiency. One of these measures
involves a thorough knowledge of where the Sov-world stands, and what
it might do if there were any signs of a changing in the _status quo_
here in the West-world."

Frank Hodgson said idly, "I believe you have met Colonel Lajos Arpad."

Joe said, puzzled still again, "Why, yes. One of their military
attaches. An observer of our fracases to see whether or not the
Universal Disarmament Pact is violated."

"But also, Colonel Arpad is probably the most competent espionage
agent working out of Budapest."

"That corseted, giggling nincompoop!"

Frank Hodgson laughed softly. "If even an old pro like yourself hasn't
spotted him, then we have one more indication of Arpad's abilities."

Philip Holland took up the ball again. "The presence of Colonel Arpad
in Greater Washington is no coincidence. He is here for something,
we're not sure what. However, rumors have been coming out of the
Sov-world, and particularly Siberia, and the more backward countries
to the south, such as Sinkiang. Rumors of an underground organized to
overthrow the Sovs."

"And that religious thing," Nadine added.

Frank Hodgson murmured, "Yes, indeed. We received two more reports of
it today."

All looked at him. He said to Joe, "Some fanatic in Siberia. A
Tuvinian, one of the Turkic-speaking peoples in that area once called
Tannu-Tuva, and now the Tuvinian Autonomous Oblast. He's attracting
quite a following. Destroy the machines. Go back to the old way. Till
the soil by hand. Let the women spin and weave, make clothing on the
hand loom once more. Ride horses, rather than hovercraft and jets.
That sort of thing. And, oh yes, kill those who stand in the way of
this holy mi