element with which he had
decided he was going to have to work, at least in the early stages of
his operations.

Any leader, be he military, political or financial, knows that true
greatness lies in the ability to choose assistants. Be you a Napoleon
with his marshals, a Roosevelt with his brain trust, a J. P. Morgan with
his partners, the truism applies. No great leader has ever stood alone.

But Crowley also knew instinctively that he was going to have to keep
the number of his immediate associates small. They were going to have to
know his secret, and no man is so naive as not to realize that while one
person can keep a secret, it becomes twice as hard for two and from that
point on the likelihood fades in a geometric progression.

On the fifth day he knocked on the door of the suite occupied by Dr.
Braun and his younger associates and pushed his way in without waiting
for response.

The three were sitting around awaiting his appearance and to issue him
his usual day's supply of serum. They greeted him variously, Patricia
with her usual brisk, almost condescending smile; Dr. Braun with a
gentle nod and a speaking of his first name; Ross Wooley sourly. Ross
obviously had some misgivings, the exact nature of which he couldn't
quite put his finger upon.

Crowley grinned and said, "Hello, everybody."

"Sit down, Don," Braun said gently. "We have been discussing your
experiment."

While the newcomer was finding his seat, Patricia said testily,
"Actually, we are not quite happy about your reports, Don. We feel an
... if you'll pardon us ... an evasive quality about them. As though you
aren't completely frank."

"In short," Ross snapped, "have you been pulling things you haven't told
us about?"

Crowley grinned at them. "Now you folks are downright suspicious."

Dr. Braun indicated some notes on the coffee table before him. "It seems
hardly possible that your activities would be confined largely to going
to the cinema, to the swankier night clubs and eating in the more famed
restaurants."

Crowley's grin turned into a half embarrassed smirk. Patricia thought of
a small boy who had been caught in a mischief but was still somewhat
proud of himself. He said, "Well, I gotta admit that there's been a few
things. Come on over to my place and I'll show you." He looked at Braun.
"Hey, Doc, about how much is one of them Rembrandt paintings worth?"

Braun rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, "Great Caesar," he murmured