Melroy shrugged and indicated another phone. The man with the union steward’s badge picked it up, dialed, and held a lengthy conversation into it, turning his head away in case Melroy might happen to be a lip reader. Finally he turned.
“Mr. Crandall wants to talk to you,” he said, grinning triumphantly, the phone extended to Melroy.
The engineer picked up another phone, snapping a button on the base of it.
“Melroy here,” he said.
Something on the line started going bee-beep-beep softly.
“Crandall, executive secretary, I.F.A.W.,” the man on the other end of the line identified himself. “Is there a recorder going on this line?”
“Naturally,” Melroy replied. “I record all business conversations; office routine.”
“Mr. Melroy, I’ve been informed that you propose forcing our members in you
