"Is he interviewing secretaries or isn't he?" one of the girls demanded.
"Yes, but..." She looked around desperately at the mob. "My God! This is ridiculous!"
The corridor door opened and three more girls pushed their way in, shoving Catherine to one side.
"Is the job filled yet?" one of them asked.
"Maybe he'd like a harem," another girl suggested. "Then we can all stay."
The door to the inner office opened, and a man came out. He was just a little under six feet, and had the almost-slim body of a nonathlete who keeps in shape at the athletic club three mornings a week. He had curly blond hair graying at the temples, bright blue eyes and a strong, rather forbidding jaw line. "What in hell's going on here, Sally?" His voice was deep and authoritative.
"These girls heard about the vacancy, Mr. Fraser."
"Jesus! I didn't hear about it myself until an hour ago." His eyes swept over the room. "It's like jungle drums." As his eyes moved toward Catherine, she stood up straight and gave him her warmest I'll-be-a-great-secretary smile, but his eyes passed right over her and went back to the receptionist. "I need a copy of Life," he told her. "An issue that came out three or four weeks ago. It has a picture of Stalin on the cover."
"I'll order it, Mr. Fraser," the receptionist said.
"I need it now." He started back toward his office.
"I'll call the Time-Life Bureau," the receptionist said, "and see if they can dig up a copy."
Fraser stopped at the door. "Sally, I have Senator Borah on the line. I want to read him a paragraph from that issue. You have two minutes to find a copy for me." He went into his office and closed the door.
The girls in the room looked at one another and shrugged. Catherine stood there, thinking hard. She turned and pushed her way out of the office.
"Good. That's one down," one of the girls said.
The receptionist picked up the telephone and dialed information. "The number for the Time-Life Bureau," she said. The room grew silent as the girls watched her. "Thank you." She replaced the receiver, then picked it up and dialed again. "Hello. This is Mr. William Fraser's office in the State Department. Mr. Fraser needs a back issue of Life immediately. It's the one with Stalin on the cover...You don't keep any back issues there? Who could I talk to?...I see. Thank you." She hung up.
"Tough luck, honey," one of the girls said.
Another added: "They sure come up with some beauties, don't they? If he wants to come over to my place tonight, I'll read to him." There was a laugh.
The intercom buzzed. She flipped down the key. "Your two minutes are up," Fraser's voice said. "Where's the magazine?"
The receptionist drew a deep breath. "I just talked to the Time-Life Bureau, Mr. Fraser, and they said it would be impossible to get..."
The door opened and Catherine hurried in. In her hand was a copy of Life with a picture of Stalin on the cover. She pushed her way through to the desk and placed the magazine in the receptionist's hand. The receptionist stared at it incredulously. "I...I have a copy of it here, Mr. Fraser. I'll bring it right in." She rose, gave Catherine a grateful smile and hurried into the inner office. The other girls turned to stare at Catherine with suddenly hostile eyes.
Five minutes later the door to Fraser's office opened, and Fraser and the receptionist appeared. The receptionist pointed to Catherine. "That's the girl."
William Fraser turned to regard Catherine speculatively. "Would you come in, please?"
"Yes, sir." Catherine followed Fraser into his office, feeling the eyes of the other girls stabbing into her back. Fraser closed the door.
His office was the typical, bureaucratic Washington office, but he had decorated it in style, stamping it with his personal taste in furniture and art.
"Sit down, Miss..."
"Alexander, Catherine Alexander."
"Sally tells me that you came up with the Life magazine."
"Yes, sir."
"I assume you didn't just happen to have a three-week-old issue in your purse."
"No, sir."