“Look, Verne,” Adam said, “it’s a little difficult to explain, but this is actually a vital part of the operation. It’s a big step forward.”

“Getting tossed in jail is a step forward?”

“Uh-huh.” Adam chuckled. “I don’t know whether you’ve ever studied political history, but it so happens that an occasional jail sentence can do more good for the leader of a cause than a dozen speeches. The theory has been proved out time and again. See: the people, Verne, the people have always hated cops. Cops are supposed to be our protectors, keepers of the peace, enforcers of the law—and that’s what they are in theory, you see what I mean. But the truth is, folks think of ’em only as enemies. Enemies. They get respect born of hate; and the hate is grounded in fear.”

Adam saw that the big man was not following him. “Try looking at it this way,” he said. “Everybody in America is afraid of being thrown into jail. Right? It’s something they have nightmares about. Okay, so when a person they know is held unjustly, when it’s perfectly clear he’s innocent, they empathize—put themselves in his shoes.”

Shipman continued to stare.

“The whole thing will help turn them against the authority they’re afraid of. It’ll break down their resistance to our organization—and quite a few have resisted, you know. Just because of the fear-respect of this so-called ‘law’ . . .”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of fancy talk.”

“It’s true, nonetheless. The value of jail shouldn’t be underestimated by anyone who wants to get ahead in this country.”

Shipman took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “Well,” he said, “I still don’t know. Bail is ten thousand dollars. What if I don’t put it up? What if I decide to—”

“Forget it, Verne. I don’t want your money.”

There was a stunned silence.

“You have ten thousand dollars?” the large, baby-faced man asked.

“No!” Adam laughed. Then, quickly, he sobered.

“You know, I’m a little disappointed in you, Verne,” he said. “I’d expected a certain amount of faith by this time. Haven’t things gone as I told you they would?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Haven’t I kept my word straight down the line?”

“Sure. But—”

“Then—if you’re still interested in being a part of this—I would suggest that you show a bit more trust. I didn’t call you here, remember. You came on your own accord.” Adam grinned suddenly and clapped Shipman on the shoulder. “But cheer up now,” he said. “And save your money: there’ll be a need for it—and for you—later on. This is only the beginning.” He held out his hand for the second time.

Shipman accepted it hesitantly; then he rose, and walked halfway across the cell.