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Updated: May 2, 2025
My little dove, and what would you suggest, then, if we are not to defend ourselves from this capitalistic aggression? That we shall sit with our hands folded and allow them to dictate the terms of our surrender? Speak!" "Send them a pest-sub, and see if they can handle the bacteria we have developed!" Vlada's throat was dry, and his voice was not his own.
The IWC program was a newscast by Bill Howard, and the news was particularly vicious that night. Bill, his big homely face leaning across a desk toward the viewer, talked in horrified tones of the "pest-sub" that had reputedly got stuck in the Suez and spread epidemic across Cairo.
The pest-sub was as real as this chair I'm sitting on, and its crew near death to the man, and no question about it. "If they can fight a bacterial war and produce an overnight cure at the same time ... we're at their mercy. There is no bomb ever developed or that can be developed to touch the power of what they've just demonstrated." The President ran his fingers through his hair.
I do know that if the United Nations team reports there's no epidemic, and that the pest-sub is one of the cleanest, healthiest-crewed submarines in the business, it's safe for us to assume it's so, and to imply that Witch Products are used to keep it clean." "Mr. Oswald," Randolph's voice took on a note of imperious prissiness. "Would you mind explaining just exactly what you are talking about?"
"Haven't you heard the news? There's no bacteriological war! I admit that puts Bill Howard way out on a limb, but there are a lot of very fine people with him. There's no epidemic in Cairo. There's not even a bad cold that the United Nations team could find. And they give that so-called pest-sub the most complete bill of health in the business. "Now, the deal we plan for tonight...."
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