then got out. At least he knew how to obey orders,
Josip decided. What was there about the police mentality? Were they
like that before they became police, and the job sought them out? Or
did the job make them all that way?

He pushed his way through the indicated door. The office beyond held
but one inhabitant who stood, hands clasped behind his back, while he
stared in obvious satisfaction at a wall of charts, maps and graphs.

The average young man looked at some of the lettering on the charts
and shook his head. He said, his voice hesitant, "Commissar Broz?"

The other turned, frowning, not recognizing his caller and surprised
to find him here without announcement. He said, "Yes, young man?"

Josip presented his credentials again.

Broz had heard of him. He hurried forth a chair, became expansive in
manner. A cigar? A drink? A great pleasure to meet the Comrade
Expediter. He had heard a great deal about the new experiment
initiated by Comrade Jankez and ably assisted by Aleksander Kardelj.
Happily, an expediter was not needed in the Transbalkanian Steel
Complex. It was expanding in such wise as to be the astonishment of
the world, both East and West.

"Yes," Josip began glumly, "but--"

Broz was back on his feet and to his wall of charts and graphs. "See
here," he beamed expansively. "This curve is steel production. See how
it zooms? A veritable Sputnik, eh? Our statistics show that we are
rapidly surpassing even the most foremost of the Western powers."

Josip Pekic said, almost apologetically in view of the other's
enthusiasm. "That's what I came to discuss with you, Comrade. You see,
I've been sitting around, ah, in the local wineshops, talking it over
with the younger engineers and the men on the job."

The other frowned at him. "Talking what over?"

"This new policy of yours." Josip's voice was diffident.

"You mean overtaking the steel production of the West, by utilizing
_all_ methods of production?" The commissar's voice dropped. "I warn
you Comrade, the germ of this idea originated with Zoran Jankez
himself. We are old comrades and friends from back before the
revolution."

"I'm sure you are," Josip said pessimistically, and suppressing an
urge to bite at the skin of his thumb. "However ... well, I'm not so
sure Number One will admit your program originated with him. At least,
it hasn't worked out that way in the recent past when something
soured."

The other bug-eyed. He whispered, "That a