t thought of all
those useless highways around the countryside. Of course, a few of them
have been camouflaged and converted to temporary and emergency heli
parking lots, but there's still a lot of waste concrete about that could
be removed. It would improve the camouflage of the groups. It could be
divided into community projects for spare time work, sir."

"Very good idea. If this stalemate we're in should develop into another
war, it would be well to have as few landmarks as possible. And some of
these people do have too much time on their hands. They sit around,
thinking of their so-called rights. Next thing we know, some of the
second-class citizens'll be screaming for the privilege of a vote. Set
it up in your district, Morely. We'll see how it works out, and the rest
of the district leaders can follow your example."

He looked sharply at Morely. "Heard a little disturbance in the hall
just before you came in."

"Oh, that." Morely contrived a look of confusion. "I'm sorry, sir. I
didn't mean anyone to hear that. It was just that I had a minor bit of
business with Leader Harwood. One of his people nearly knocked me out of
the air this morning, over a parking area, and I confiscated his
identification. I tried to give it to Harwood after the conference, but
he must have been in a hurry. I caught up with him and gave him the
folder."

"So I heard." The director smiled wryly. "Anything more?"

"No, sir." Morely saluted and left.

"That," he told himself, "should drop Harwood a few points."

He went to the parking area to reclaim his helicopter. Better get back
to his district and start setting up those community projects. Too, he
would have to run a check inspection or so this evening. See to it his
sector men weren't getting lax. He'd check on Bond tonight.

* * * * *

He flew back to District Twelve, dropped his helicopter into the landing
area, and made his way to his office.

Inside, he went to a file, from which he took his spot-inspection
folder. Carrying it to his desk, he checked it. Yes, Bond's sector was
due for a spot inspection. Might be well to make a detailed check of one
of the employees in that sector, too. Morely touched a button on his
desk.

Almost immediately, a clerk stood in the doorway.

"Get me the master quarters file for Sector Fourteen," Morely ordered.

The clerk went out, to return with two long file drawers. Quickly, he
set them side by side