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jaw outthrust, hands clasped behind his back, leaning slightly forward as if to balance with his brow the problems on his mind. “Mr. President, narcotics and gambling are becoming minor operations of the underworld. With the increase in prices, prostitution is the heavy industry, and staffs are now being augmented by teams of virgin-hunters who go into the less accessible areas of the continent and recruit the girls forcibly. Through informal channels, the bureau has learned of an expansion program, here in Washington, and I don’t mind telling you, Mr. President, I’m counting on that expansion to take the pressure off some of my boys on State Department assignments.” Mr. Powers sat down.
    “Gentlemen,” the President said, “this completes reports on developments. We are now open for countermeasures or solutions. May I explain to you. Captain Hansen and Chief McCormick, our brainstorming sessions are completely informal. Feel free to toss any idea you wish onto the table and let us take a punch at it. If it fights back, it may win. Under our ground rules, Captain, anyone can play. Care to kick off the session?”
    Hansen started to demur when a weird electricity around him seemed to grasp him, and he heard his own voice saying, “Well, sir, we could draft unmarried females into the Waves and order them to breed.”
    He was amazed by the spontaneity of the handclaps which greeted his suggestion, and felt somewhat contemptuous of the men around him for not having considered such an obvious solution. “Very good. Captain,” the President said. “Mr. Culpepper, file Captain Hansen’s remarks under ‘Possible Solutions.’ Chief McCormick, would you care to take a left jab at your captain’s idea?”
    “Well, sir, to back up what the captain said, you wouldn’t have to give any orders to breed, sir. You line the Waves up on one side, the sailors on the other, order a short-arm inspection, and jump back.”
    Laughter was mixed with the applause.
    Not on my ship, Hansen thought, and suddenly he realized what he, himself, had said. Seated on the right hand of the Chief of Naval Operations, separated from the Secretary of Defense by one chair, he had offered a suggestion that would turn the fleet into a floating bordello. Moreover, he had impugned the honor of American womanhood. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the admiral scribbling a reprimand on his notepad, and he could read, “Frankly, I am stunned and…”
    Hansen snapped his eyes forward, his face set, hardly hearing the President order Culpepper to enter the suggestions under “Feasible and Constitutional Solutions.” Now it mattered little what a President thought of him; he would never be promoted by a Navy selection board, but his discipline remained. With a cool glance he appraised the rough draft of the official reprimand which the admiral shoved under his nose, and read, “… and delighted that you have cast off the Annapolis anchor and think with originality. Well done!”

CHAPTER 5
    Each man approached the problem from his own field of interest.
    With urbane sincerity, Dr. Drexel presented schematic drawings of a pair of stocks which, affixed to the foot of one’s bed, held the female immobile during entry. Stocks were rejected by the President as a violation of the Due Process clause of the Constitution and the idea was not even filed under “Possible Solutions.”
    The Attorney General proposed that a wife’s refusal be considered a civil wrong, as a breach of the marriage contract, but the idea was hooted off the table by Oglethorpe Pickens, who called it a tart tort. However, the President’s former student bounced right back.
    “You’re not through with the Justice Department, yet, Mr. President. May I yield to Mr. Powers?”
    Standing for the second time, Mr. Powers was obviously prepared for a longer speech. He had a notebook open before him, and he shoved his right hand under his coat. “Mr. President, in my status