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elite, the establishment of the United States of Europe and America; their possession of the one or more secrets made them into Geheimnisträger, bearers of the secret, rather than Befehlträger, mere carry-outers of instructions.
    But all this to McRae was Germanic mysticism; he preferred to think of it in simple practical terms. Karp u. Sohnen Werke was capable of building simulacra, had as an example built Kalbfleisch and done a good job of it, as well as a good job of maintaining this der Alte during his reign. However, another firm would construct the next der Alte equally well, and by eradicating the economic ties with Karp, the government cut the vast cartel out of participation in the economic privileges which it now enjoyed . . . to the government’s loss.
    The next firm which built a simulacrum for the government of the USEA would be a small firm, one which the authorities could control.
    The name which came to McRae’s mind was Frauenzimmer Associates, an extremely small, marginal firm barely surviving in the field of sim-con: simulacra construction for planetary colonization.
    He did not tell Anton Karp this, but he intended to open business discussions with Maurice Frauenzimmer, the head of the firm, any day now. And it would surprise Frauenzimmer, too; he did not know either.
    Karp said thoughtfully, eyeing McRae, “What do you think Nicole will say?”
    Smiling, McRae said, “I think she’ll be glad. She never really liked old Rudi.”
    “I thought she did.” Karp looked chagrined.
    “The First Lady,” McRae said acidly, “has never liked a der Alte yet. Why should she? After all . . . she’s twenty-three and Kalbfleisch was, according to our informational poop-sheets, seventy-eight.”
    Karp bleated, “But what does she have to do with him? Nothing. Just appear at a reception very seldom, just every now and then!”
    “I think that Nicole in general detests the old, the outworn, the useless,” McRae said, not sparing Anton Karp; he saw the middle-aged businessman wince. “Which is a good shorthand description of your chief product,” he added.
    “But the specifications—”
    “You could have made it a trifle more—” McRae searched for the word, “fascinating.”
    “Enough,” Karp said, flushing, knowing now that McRae was merely tormenting him, that this all was simply to drive home the point that as large and powerful as it was, Karp u. Sohnen Werke was a servant, only an employee, of the government; it did not really influence it, and even McRae, who was simply an Assistant Secretary of State, could take a stand of this sort with impunity.
    “If you ran things once more,” McRae drawled reflectively, “how would you alter matters? Go back to hiring concentration camp victims, as Krupp did during the twentieth century? Perhaps you could obtain and use von Lessinger equipment for that . . . letting them die even faster, as your employees, than they died at Bergen-Belsen—”
    Karp turned and strode off. He was trembling.
    Grinning, McRae lit a cigar. An American, not a German-Dutch, variety.

FOUR
    EME’s top recording technician watched in amazement as Nat Flieger carried the Ampek F-a2 to the ’copter. “You’re going to catch him on
that?
” Jim Planck groaned. “My god, the F-a2 was obsolete
last
year!”
    “If you can’t operate it—” Nat said.
    “I can,” Planck muttered. “I’ve run wormies before; I just feel that—” He gestured in dismay. “I suppose you’re using an old-time carbon type mike along with it.”
    “Hardly,” Nat said. Goodnaturedly, he slapped Planck on the back; he had known him for years and was used to him. “Don’t worry. We’ll get along fine.”
    “Listen,” Planck said in a low voice, glancing around. “Is it really a fact that Leo’s daughter is coming with us on this trip?”
    “It’s really a fact.”
    “That Molly Dondoldo always means complication—you know what I refer to? Naw, you don’t. Nat, I don’t have any