Expediter Read online

but with mild humor oddlymixed, "What's the matter, did these hoodlums frighten you?"

  Josip fingered his chin nervously. "Of course not."

  One of the zombis shifted his feet. "We did nothing except obeyorders."

  Kardelj grimaced in sour amusement. "I can imagine," he grunted."Milka, you see too many of those imported Telly shows from the West.I suspect you see yourself as a present day Transbalkanian G-Man."

  "Yes, Comrade," Milka said, and then shook his head.

  "Oh, hush up and get out," Kardelj said. He flicked the cigarette buttfrom its holder with a thumb and took up a fresh one from a deskhumidor and wedged it into the small bowl. He looked at Josip andgrinned again, the action giving his face an unsophisticated youthfulexpression.

  "You can't imagine how pleased I am to meet you, at last," he said."I've been looking for you for months."

  Josip Pekic ogled him blankly. The name had come through to him atlast. Aleksander Kardelj was seldom in the news, practically neverphotographed, and then in the background in a group of Partyfunctionaries, usually with a wry smile on his face. But he was knownthroughout the boundaries of the State, if not internationally.Aleksander Kardelj was Number Two. Right-hand man of Zoran Jankezhimself, second in command of the Party and rumored to be the brainsbehind the throne.

  The zombis had gone, hurriedly.

  "Looking for me?" Josip said blankly. "I haven't been in hiding.You've made some mistake. All I am is a student of--"

  "Of course, of course," Kardelj said, humorously impatient. He took upa folder from his desk and shook it absently in Josip's generaldirection. "I've studied your dossier thoroughly." He flicked his eyesup at a wall clock. "Come along. Comrade Jankez is expecting us. We'llleave explanations until then."

  In a daze, Josip Pekic followed him.

  Comrade Jankez, Number One. Zoran Jankez, Secretary General of theParty, President of the U.B.S.R., the United Balkan Soviet Republics.Number One.

  Josip could hardly remember so far back that Zoran Jankez wasn't headof the Party, when his face, or sculptured bust, wasn't to be seen inevery store, on the walls of banks, railroad stations, barber shops,or bars. Never a newsreel but that part of it wasn't devoted toComrade Jankez, never a Telly newscast but that Number One was broughtto the attention of the viewers. His coming to power had been a quiet,bloodless affair upon the death of the Number One who had precededhim, and he had remained in his position for a generation.

  * * * * *

  Josip Pekic followed Aleksander Kardelj in a daze, through a door tothe rear of the desk, and into a somewhat bigger room, largely barrenof furniture save for a massive table with a dozen chairs about it. Atthe table, looking some ten years older than in any photo Josip hadever seen, sat Zoran Jankez.

  He looked ten years older, and his face bore a heavy weariness, agrayness, that never came through in his publicity shots. He looked upfrom a report he was perusing and grunted a welcome to them.

  Kardelj said in pleasurable enthusiasm, "Here he is, Zoran. OurComrade Josip Pekic. The average young citizen of Transbalkania."

  Number One grunted again, and took in the less than imposing figure ofJosip Pekic. Josip felt an urge to nibble at his fingernails, andrepressed it. He had recently broken himself of the smoking habit andwas hard put to find occupation for his hands when nervous.

  Zoran Jankez growled an invitation for them to be seated and Kardeljadjusted his trousers to preserve the crease, threw one leg up alongthe heavy conference table, and rested on a buttock, looking at easebut as though ready to take off instantly.

  Josip fumbled himself into one of the sturdy oaken chairs, staringback and forth at the two most powerful men of his native land. Thusfar, no one had said anything that made any sense whatsoever to himsince he had been hauled from his bed half an hour ago.

  Zoran Jankez rasped, "I have gone through your dossier, Comrade. Inote that you are the son of Hero of the People's DemocraticDictatorship, Ljubo Pekic."

  "Yes, Comrade Jankez," Josip got out. He fussed with his hands,decided it would be improper to stick them in his pockets.

  Number One grunted. "I knew Ljubo well. You must realize that hisarrest was before my time. I had no power to aid him. It was, ofcourse, after my being elected to the Secretary Generalship that hewas exonerated and his name restored to the list of those who havegloriously served the State. But then, of course, you bear no maliceat this late date. Ljubo has been posthumously given the hero'saward."

  It wasn't exactly the way Josip knew the story, but there was littlepoint in his objecting. He simply nodded. He said, unhappily,"Comrades, I feel some mistake has been made. I ... I have no idea--"

  Kardelj was chuckling, as though highly pleased with some development.He held up a hand to cut Josip short and turned to his superior. "Yousee, Zoran. A most average, laudable young man. Born under our regime,raised under the People's Democratic Dictatorship. Exactly our man."

  Zoran Jankez seemed not to hear the other. He was studying Josipheavily, all but gloomily.

  A beefy paw went out and banged a button inset in the table and whichJosip had not noticed before. Almost instantly a door in the rearopened and a white-jacketed servant entered, pushing a wheeledcombination bar and hors d'oeuvres cart before him. He brought thelavishly laden wagon to within reach of the heavy-set Party head, hisface in servile expressionlessness.

  Jankez grunted something and the waiter, not quite bowing andscraping, retreated again from the room. Number One's heavy lips movedin and out as his eyes went over the display.

  Kardelj said easily, "Let me, Zoran." He arose and brought atowel-wrapped bottle from a refrigerated bucket set into the wagon,and deftly took up a delicate three-ounce glass which he filled andplaced before his superior. He took up another and raised his eyebrowsat Josip Pekic who shook his head--a stomach as queasy as his wasn'tgoing to be helped by alcohol. Kardelj poured a short one for himselfand resumed his place at the heavy conference table.

  Jankez, his eyes small and piggish, took up a heavy slice of darkbread and ladled a full quarter pound of Danube caviar upon it. Hetook up the glass and tossed the chilled spirits back over his palate,grunted and stuffed the open sandwich into his mouth.

  Josip's eyes went to the hors d'oeuvres wagon. The spread would havecost him six months' income.

  Number One rumbled, his mouth full, "Comrade, I am not surprised atyour confusion. We will get to the point immediately. Actually, youmust consider yourself a very fortunate young man." He belched, tookanother huge bite, then went on. "Have you ever heard the term,expediter?"

  "I ... I don't know ... I mean think so, Comrade Jankez."

  The party head poured himself some more of the yellow spirits and tookdown half of it. "It is not important," he rasped. "Comrade Kardeljfirst came upon the germ of this project of ours whilst reading ofAmerican industrial successes during the Second World War. They wereattempting to double, triple, quadruple their production of such warmateriel as ships and aircraft in a matter of mere months. Obviously,a thousand bottlenecks appeared. All was confusion. So they resortedto expediters. Extremely competent efficiency engineers whose solepurpose was to seek out such bottlenecks and eliminate them. A hundredaircraft might be kept from completion by the lack of a single part.The expediter found them though they be as far away as England, andflew them by chartered plane to California. A score of top researchchemists might be needed for a certain project in Tennessee, theexpediter located them, though it meant the stripping of valued menfrom jobs of lesser importance. I need give no further examples. Theirpowers were sweeping. Their expense accounts unlimited. Theirsuccesses unbelievable." Number One's eyes went back to the piles offood, as though he'd grown tired of so much talk.

  Josip fidgeted, still uncomprehending.

  While the Party leader built himself a huge sandwich of Dalmatian hamand _pohovano pile_ chicken, Aleksander Kardelj put in an enthusiasticword. "We're adapting the idea to our own needs, Comrade. You havebeen selecte
d to be our first expediter."

  If anything, Josip Pekic was more confused than ever. "Expediter," hesaid blankly. "To ... to expedite what?"

  "That is for you to decide," Kardelj said blithely. "You're ouraverage Transbalkanian. You feel as the average man in the streetfeels. You're our what the Yankees call, Common Man."

  Josip said plaintively, "You keep saying that, but I don't know whatyou mean, Comrade. Please forgive me, perhaps I'm dense, but what isthis about me being uh, the average man? There's nothing special aboutme. I...."

  "Exactly," Kardelj said triumphantly. "There's nothing special aboutyou. You're the average man of all