"Mack Reynolds - Day After Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reynolds Mack)

your vacation short. Darn shame."

LaVerne Polk was a cute little whiz of efficiency. Like Napoleon and his
army, she knew the name of every member of the department and was on
a first name basis with all. However, she was definitely a weird. For
instance, styles might come and styles might go, but LaVerne dressed
basically for comfort, did her hair the way she thought it looked best, and
wore low-heeled walking shoes on the job. In fact, she was willing and able
to snarl at anyone, no matter how kindly intentioned, who even hinted
that her nonconformity didn't help her promotion prospects.

Woolford said, "Hi, LaVerne. I think the Boss is expecting me."

"That he is. Go right in, Larry."

She looked after him when he turned and left her desk. Lawrence
Woolford cut a pleasant figure as thirty-year-old bachelors go.

The Boss looked up from a report which he had been frowning at,
nodded to his ace field man and said, "Sit down Lawrence. I'll be with you
in a minute. Please take a look at this while you're waiting." He handed
over a banknote.

Larry Woolford took it and found himself a comfortable chair. He
examined the bill, front and back. It was a fifty dollar note, almost new.
He couldn't see anything special about it.
 Finally, the Boss, a stocky, tight-faced, domineering but impeccable
career bureaucrat, scribbled his initials on the report and tossed it into an
Out chute. He said to Woolford, "I am sorry to cut short your vacation,
Lawrence. I considered giving Walter Foster the assignment, but I think
you're the better choice. It might take quite a bit of thinking on your feet."

Larry decided that faint praise was the best tactic. He spoke earnestly,
though he detested Foster, his closest rival, "Walt's a good man, sir. One of
the best when you're in the clutch." And then, "What's the crisis?"

"What do you think of that fifty?" The Boss indicated it with a thumb.

His troubleshooter looked down at it. "What is there to think about it?"

The Boss grunted, slid open a desk drawer and brought forth another
bill. "Here, look at this, please."

It was another fifty. Larry Woolford frowned at it, not getting whatever
was going on.

"The serial numbers," the Boss said impatiently.

They were identical. Larry Woolford whistled softly and looked up.
"Counterfeit. Which one is the bad one?"