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Inside, Harrison came face to face witha small man wearing immense plus fours.“Looking for someone?” asked the small man.“Yes, the fire chief.”“Who’s he?”By now prepared for this sort of thing, Harrisonspoke as one would to a child. “See here, Mister, thisis a fire-fighting outfit. Somebody bosses it. Somebodyorganizes the whole affair, fills forms, pressesbuttons, shouts orders, recommends promotions,kicks the shiftless, grabs all the credit, transfers allthe blame and generally lords it around. He’s themost important man in the bunch and everybodyknows it.” His forefinger tapped imperatively on theother’s chest. “And he is the fellow I’m going to talkto if it’s the last thing I do.”“Nobody is more important than anyone else.How can he be? I think you’re crazy.”“You’re welcome to think what you please but Iam telling you that—.”A shrill bell clamoured, cutting off his sentence.
