Атлант расправил плечи
The Moratorium on Brains
AmheldupontheCometatWinston,Colorado,bytheincompetenceofyourmen,whorefusetogivemeanengine.HavemeetinginSanFranciscointheeveningoftop-levelnationalimportance.Ifyoudon’tmovemytrainatonce,I’llletyouguesstheconsequences.KipChalmers.
AftertheboyhadtransmittedthewordsontothewiresthatstretchedfrompoletopoleacrossacontinentasguardiansoftheTaggarttrack—afterKipChalmershadreturnedtohiscartowaitforananswer—thestationagenttelephonedDaveMitchum,whowashisfriend,andreadtohimthetextofthemessage.HeheardMitchumgroaninanswer.
"IthoughtI’dtellyou,Dave.Ineverheardoftheguybefore,butmaybehe’ssomebodyimportant."
"Idon’tknow!"moanedMitchum."KipChalmers?Youseehisnameinthenewspapersallthetime,rightinwithallthetop-levelboys,Idon’tknowwhatheis,butifhe’sfromWashington,wecan’ttakeanychances.OhChrist,whatarewegoingtodo?"
Wecan’ttakeanychances—thoughttheTaggartoperatorinNewYork,andtransmittedthemessagebytelephonetoJamesTaggart’shome.ItwasclosetosixA.M.inNewYork,andJamesTaggartwasawakenedoutofthefitfulsleepofarestlessnight.Helistenedtothetelephone,hisfacesagging.HefeltthesamefearasthestationagentofWinston,andforthesamereason.
HecalledthehomeofCliftonLocey.
