he cubbyhole, under Bailey's watchful
eye. He had argued, and battled, and pleaded, and lost. He had watched
the company deteriorate day by day. Now they blamed him, and threatened
his job, and he was helpless to do anything about it.

He stared at the machines, clicking busily against the wall. An idea
began to form in his head. Helpless?

Not quite. Not if the others could see it, go along with it. It was a
repugnant idea. But there was one thing they could do that even
Torkleson and his fat-jowled crew would understand.

They could go on strike.

* * * * *

"It's ridiculous," the lawyer spluttered, staring at the circle of men
in the room. "How can I give you an opinion on the legality of the
thing? There isn't any legal precedent that I know of." He mopped his
bald head with a large white handkerchief. "There just hasn't _been_ a
case of a company's management striking against its own labor. It--it
isn't done. Oh, there have been lockouts, but this isn't the same thing
at all."

Walter nodded. "Well, we couldn't very well lock the men out, they own
the plant. We were thinking more of a lock-_in_ sort of thing." He
turned to Paul Hendricks and the others. "We know how the machines
operate. They don't. We also know that the data we keep in the machines
is essential to running the business; the machines figure production
quotas, organize blueprints, prepare distribution lists, test promotion
schemes. It would take an office full of managerial experts to handle
even a single phase of the work without the machines."

The man at the window hissed, and Pendleton quickly snapped out the
lights. They sat in darkness, hardly daring to breathe. Then: "Okay.
Just the man next door coming home."

Pendleton sighed. "You're sure you didn't let them suspect anything,
Walter? They wouldn't be watching the house?"

"I don't think so. And you all came alone, at different times." He
nodded to the window guard, and turned back to the lawyer. "So we can't
be sure of the legal end. You'd have to be on your toes."

"I still don't see how we could work it," Hendricks objected. His heavy
face was wrinkled with worry. "Torkleson is no fool, and he has a lot of
power in the National Association of Union Stockholders. All he'd need
to do is ask for managers, and a dozen companies would throw them to him
on loan. They'd be able to figure out the machine system and take over
without losing a day."

"No