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diff --git a/23657-h/23657-h.htm b/23657-h/23657-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..34caf92 --- /dev/null +++ b/23657-h/23657-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8523 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of That Sweet Little Old Lady, by Mark Phillips + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + sub {vertical-align: text-bottom; font-size: small;} + + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin: 1em auto; visibility: hidden;} + .hrchp {width: 65%; clear: both; margin: 2em auto; visibility: visible;} + + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .figcenter {margin: 1em auto; text-align: right; font-size: small; + font-weight: bold;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: right; font-size: small; + font-weight: bold;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; text-align: right;} + + .figtran {float: left; text-align: justify; border: solid 1px; + margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em;} + .figtran img {float: left; padding-right: 1em;} + + img {border: none} + + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + + .illo {font-size: smaller; font-weight: bold; text-align: right;} + .tease {font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; width: 18em; + margin: 0 auto; text-align: justify; text-indent: 12em;} + .theend {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + + .blockquot{margin: 1em 15% 2em;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of That Sweet Little Old Lady, by +Gordon Randall Garrett (AKA Mark Phillips) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: That Sweet Little Old Lady + +Author: Gordon Randall Garrett (AKA Mark Phillips) + +Illustrator: Kelly Freas + +Release Date: November 29, 2007 [EBook #23657] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT SWEET LITTLE OLD LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 697px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="697" height="500" alt="That Sweet Little Old Lady" title="That Sweet Little Old Lady" /> +</div> + + + +<div class="tease">Usually, the +toughest part of the job is stating the +problem clearly, and the solution is then +easy. This time the FBI could state the +problem easily; solving it, though was +not. How do you catch a telepathic spy?</div> + + +<h2>BY MARK PHILLIPS</h2> + +<p class="illo">Illustrated by Freas</p> + +<hr class="hrchp" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"What are we going to call that +sweet little old lady, now that</i> +mother <i>is a dirty word?"</i></p> + +<p class="rgt">—Dave Foley</p></div> + + + + +<h2>I</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px; margin: 0 .3em .2em 0;"> +<img src="images/002.png" style="border: 1px solid black;" width="45" height="45" alt="I" title="I" /> +</div> +<p><span class="dcap">n</span> 1914, it was enemy +aliens.</p> + +<p>In 1930, it was +Wobblies.</p> + +<p>In 1957, it was fellow +travelers.</p> + +<p>And, in 1971....</p> + +<p>"They could be anywhere," Andrew +J. Burris said, with an expression +which bordered on exasperated +horror. "They could be all around +us. Heaven only knows."</p> + +<p>He pushed his chair back from his +desk and stood up—a chunky little +man with bright blue eyes and large +hands. He paced to the window and +looked out at Washington, and then +he came back to the desk. A persistent +office rumor held that he had +become head of the FBI purely because +he happened to have an initial +<i>J</i> in his name, but in his case the <i>J</i> +stood for Jeremiah. And, at the moment, +his tone expressed all the hopelessness +of that Old Testament +prophet's lamentations.</p> + +<p>"We're helpless," he said, looking +at the young man with the crisp +brown hair who was sitting across +the desk. "That's what it is, we're +helpless."</p> + +<p>Kenneth Malone tried to look dependable. +"Just tell me what to do," +he said.</p> + +<p>"You're a good agent, Kenneth," +Burris said. "You're one of the best. +That's why you've been picked for +this job. And I want to say that I +picked you personally. Believe me, +there's never been anything like it +before."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best," Malone said at +random. He was twenty-eight, and +he had been an FBI agent for three +years. In that time, he had, among +other things, managed to break up +a gang of smugglers, track down a +counterfeiting ring, and capture +three kidnapers. For reasons which +he could neither understand nor explain, +no one seemed willing to attribute +his record to luck.</p> + +<p>"I know you will," Burris said. +"And if anybody can crack this case, +Malone, you're the man. It's just that—everything +sounds so <i>impossible</i>. +Even after all the conferences we've +had."</p> + +<p>"Conferences?" Malone said +vaguely. He wished the chief would +get to the point. Any point. He +smiled gently across the desk and +tried to look competent and dependable +and reassuring. Burris' expression +didn't change.</p> + +<p>"You'll get the conference tapes +later," Burris said. "You can study +them before you leave. I suggest you +study them very carefully, Malone. +Don't be like me. Don't get confused." +He buried his face in his +hands. Malone waited patiently. After +a few seconds, Burris looked up. +"Did you read books when you were +a child?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Malone said: "What?"</p> + +<p>"Books," Burris said. "When you +were a child. Read them."</p> + +<p>"Sure I did," Malone said. +"'Bomba the Jungle Boy,' and 'Doolittle,' +and 'Lucky Starr,' and 'Little +Women'—"</p> + +<p>"'Little Women'?"</p> + +<p>"When Beth died," Malone said, +"I wanted to cry. But I didn't. +My father said big boys don't +cry."</p> + +<p>"And your father was right," +Burris said. "Why, when I was a +... never mind. Forget about Beth +and your father. Think about 'Lucky +Starr' for a minute. Remember +him?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Malone said. "I liked +those books. You know, it's funny, +but the books you read when you're +a kid, they kind of stay with you. +Know what I mean? I can still remember +that one about Venus, for +instance. Gee, that was—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about Venus, too," +Burris said sharply. "Keep your +mind on the problem."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said. He paused. +"What problem, sir?" he added.</p> + +<p>"The problem we're discussing," +Burris said. He gave Malone a +bright, blank stare. "Just listen to +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"All right, then." Burris took a +deep breath. He seemed nervous. +Once again he stood up and went +to the window. This time, he spoke +without turning. "Remember how +everybody used to laugh about spaceships, +and orbital satellites, and life +on other planets? That was just in +those 'Lucky Starr' books. That was +all just for kids, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know," Malone +said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Sure it was all for kids," Burris +said. "It was laughable. Nobody took +it seriously."</p> + +<p>"Well, <i>somebody</i> must—"</p> + +<p>"You just keep quiet and listen," +Burris said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said.</p> + +<p>Burris nodded. His hands were +clasped behind his back. "We're not +laughing any more, are we, Malone?" +he said without moving.</p> + +<p>There was silence.</p> + +<p>"Well, are we?"</p> + +<p>"Did you want me to answer, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I did!" Burris snapped.</p> + +<p>"You told me to keep quiet +and—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind what I told you," +Burris said. "Just do what I told +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said. "No, +sir," he added after a second.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, what?" Burris asked +softly.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, we're not laughing any +more," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Ah," Burris said. "And why +aren't we laughing any more?"</p> + +<p>There was a little pause. Malone +said, tentatively: "Because there's +nothing to laugh about, sir?"</p> + +<p>Burris whirled. "On the head!" +he said happily. "You've hit the nail +on the head, Kenneth. I knew I could +depend on you." His voice grew serious +again, and thoughtful. "We're +not laughing any more because +there's nothing to laugh about. We +have orbital satellites, and we've +landed on the Moon with an atomic +rocket. The planets are the next step, +and after that the stars. Man's heritage, +Kenneth. The stars. And the +stars, Kenneth, belong to Man—not +to the Soviets!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said soberly.</p> + +<p>"So," Burris said, "we should +learn not to laugh any more. But +have we?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir."</p> + +<p>"We haven't," Burris said with +decision. "Can you read my mind?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Can I read your mind?"</p> + +<p>Malone hesitated. At last he said: +"Not that I know of, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't," Burris snapped. +"And can any of us read each other's +mind?"</p> + +<p>Malone shook his head. "No, sir," +he said.</p> + +<p>Burris nodded. "That's the problem," +he said. "That's the case I'm +sending you out to crack."</p> + +<p>This time, the silence was a long +one.</p> + +<p>At last, Malone said: "What problem, +sir?"</p> + +<p>"Mind reading," Burris said. +"There's a spy at work in the Nevada +plant, Kenneth. And the spy +is a telepath."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The video tapes were very clear +and very complete. There were a +great many of them, and it was long +after nine o'clock when Kenneth +Malone decided to take a break and +get some fresh air. Washington was +a good city for walking, even at +night, and Malone liked to walk. +Sometimes he pretended, even to +himself, that he got his best ideas +while walking, but he knew perfectly +well that wasn't true. His best +ideas just seemed to come to him, +out of nowhere, precisely as the situation +demanded them.</p> + +<p>He was just lucky, that was all. +He had a talent for being lucky. But +nobody would ever believe that. A +record like his was spectacular, even +in the annals of the FBI, and Burris +himself believed that the record +showed some kind of superior ability.</p> + +<p>Malone knew that wasn't true, but +what could he do about it? After all, +he didn't want to resign, did he? It +was kind of romantic and exciting +to be an FBI agent, even after three +years. A man got a chance to travel +around a lot and see things, and it +was interesting. The pay was pretty +good, too.</p> + +<p>The only trouble was that, if he +didn't quit, he was going to have to +find a telepath.</p> + +<p>The notion of telepathic spies just +didn't sound right to Malone. It +bothered him in a remote sort of +way. Not that the idea of telepathy +itself was alien to him—after all, he +was even more aware than the average +citizen that research had been +going on in that field for something +over a quarter of a century, and that +the research was even speeding up.</p> + +<p>But the cold fact that a telepathy-detecting +device had been invented +somehow shocked his sense of +propriety, and his notions of privacy. +It wasn't decent, that was all.</p> + +<p>There ought to be something sacred, +he told himself angrily.</p> + +<p>He stopped walking and looked +up. He was on Pennsylvania Avenue, +heading toward the White House.</p> + +<p>That was no good. He went to the +corner and turned off, down the +block. He had, he told himself, nothing +at all to see the President about.</p> + +<p>Not yet, anyhow.</p> + +<p>The streets were dark and very +peaceful. <i>I get my best ideas while +walking</i>, Malone said without convincing +himself. He thought back to +the video tapes.</p> + +<p>The report on the original use of +the machine itself had been on one +of the first tapes, and Malone could +still see and hear it. That was one +thing he did have, he reflected; his +memory was pretty good.</p> + +<p>Burris had been the first speaker +on the tapes, and he'd given the +serial and reference number in a cold, +matter-of-fact voice. His face had +been perfectly blank, and he looked +just like the head of the FBI people +were accustomed to seeing on their +TV and newsreel screens. Malone +wondered what had happened to him +between the time the tapes had been +made and the time he'd sent for +Malone.</p> + +<p>Maybe the whole notion of telepathy +was beginning to get him, Malone +thought.</p> + +<p>Burris recited the standard tape +opening in a rapid mumble: "Any +person or agent unauthorized for this +tape please refrain from viewing +further, under penalties as prescribed +by law." Then he looked off, out +past the screen to the left, and said: +"Dr. Thomas O'Connor, of Westinghouse +Laboratories. Will you +come here, Dr. O'Connor?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor came into the lighted +square of screen slowly, looking +all around him. "This is very fascinating," +he said, blinking in the +lamplight. "I hadn't realized that +you people took so many precautions—"</p> + +<p>He was, Malone thought, somewhere +between fifty and sixty, tall +and thin with skin so transparent +that he nearly looked like a living +X ray. He had pale blue eyes and +pale white hair and, Malone thought, +if there ever were a contest for the +best-looking ghost, Dr. Thomas +O'Connor would win it hands—or +phalanges—down.</p> + +<p>"This is all necessary for the national +security," Burris said, a little +sternly.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Dr. O'Connor said quickly, +"I realize that, of course. Naturally. +I can certainly see that."</p> + +<p>"Let's go ahead, shall we?" Burris +said.</p> + +<p>O'Connor nodded. "Certainly. +Certainly."</p> + +<p>Burris said: "Well, then," and +paused. After a second he started +again: "Now, Dr. O'Connor, would +you please give us a sort of verbal +run-down on this for our records?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," Dr. O'Connor said. +He smiled into the video cameras +and cleared his throat. "I take it you +don't want an explanation of how +this machine works. I mean: you +don't want a technical exposition, +do you?"</p> + +<p>"No," Burris said, and added: +"Not by any means. Just tell us what +it does."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor suddenly reminded +Malone of a professor he'd had in +college for one of the law courses. +He had, Malone thought, the same +smiling gravity of demeanor, the +same condescending attitude of absolute +authority. It was clear that Dr. +O'Connor lived in a world of his +own, a world that was not even +touched by the common run of +men.</p> + +<p>"Well," he began, "to put it very +simply, the device indicates whether +or not a man's mental ... ah ... +processes are being influenced by +outside ... by outside influences." +He gave the cameras another little +smile. "If you will allow me, I will +demonstrate on the machine itself."</p> + +<p>He took two steps that carried him +out of camera range, and returned +wheeling a large heavy-looking box. +Dangling from the metal covering +were a number of wires and attachments. +A long cord led from the box +to the floor, and snaked out of sight +to the left.</p> + +<p>"Now," Dr. O'Connor said. He +selected a single lead, apparently, +Malone thought, at random. "This +electrode—"</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, doctor," Burris +said. He was eying the machine with +a combination of suspicion and awe. +"A while back you mentioned something +about 'outside influences.' +Just what, specifically, does that +mean?"</p> + +<p>With some regret, Dr. O'Connor +dropped the lead. "Telepathy," he +said. "By outside influences, I meant +influences on the mind, such as +telepathy or mind reading of some +nature."</p> + +<p>"I see," Burris said. "You can detect +a telepath with this machine."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—"</p> + +<p>"Well, some kind of a mind reader +anyhow," Burris said. "We won't +quarrel about terms."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Dr. O'Connor +said. The smile he turned on Burris +was as cold and empty as the inside +of Orbital Station One. "What I +meant was ... if you will permit +me to continue ... that we cannot +detect any sort of telepath or mind +reader with this device. To be frank, +I very much wish that we could; it +would make everything a great deal +simpler. However, the laws of +psionics don't seem to operate that +way."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Burris said, "what +does the thing do?" His face wore +a mask of confusion. Momentarily, +Malone felt sorry for his chief. He +could remember how he'd felt, himself, +when that law professor had +come up with a particularly baffling +question in class.</p> + +<p>"This machine," Dr. O'Connor +said with authority, "detects the +slight variations in mental activity +that occur when a person's mind is +<i>being</i> read."</p> + +<p>"You mean, if my mind were being +read right now—"</p> + +<p>"Not right now," Dr. O'Connor +said. "You see, the bulk of this machine +is in Nevada; the structure is +both too heavy and too delicate for +transport. And there are other qualifications—"</p> + +<p>"I meant theoretically," Burris +said.</p> + +<p>"Theoretically," Dr. O'Connor began, +and smiled again, "if your mind +were being read, this machine would +detect it, supposing that the machine +were in operating condition and all +of the other qualifications had been +met. You see, Mr. Burris, no matter +how poor a telepath a man may be, +he has some slight ability—even if +only very slight—to detect the fact +that his mind is being read."</p> + +<p>"You mean, if somebody were +reading my mind, I'd know it?" Burris +said. His face showed, Malone +realized, that he plainly disbelieved +this statement.</p> + +<p>"You would know it," Dr. O'Connor +said, "but you would never +know you knew it. To elucidate: in +a normal person—like you, for instance, +or even like myself—the state +of having one's mind read merely +results in a vague, almost subconscious +feeling of irritation, something +that could easily be attributed to +minor worries, or fluctuations in +one's hormonal balance. The hormonal +balance, Mr. Burris, is—"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Burris said with a +trace of irritation. "I know what +hormones are."</p> + +<p>"Ah. Good," Dr. O'Connor said +equably. "In any case, to continue: +this machine interprets those specific +feelings as indications that the mind +is being ... ah ... 'eavesdropped' +upon."</p> + +<p>You could almost see the quotation +marks around what Dr. O'Connor +considered slang dropping into +place, Malone thought.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"I see," Burris said with a disappointed +air. "But what do you +mean, it won't detect a telepath? +Have you ever actually worked with +a telepath?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly we have," Dr. O'Connor +said. "If we hadn't, how would +we be able to tell that the machine +was, in fact, indicating the presence +of telepathy? The theoretical state of +the art is not, at present, sufficiently +developed to enable us to—"</p> + +<p>"I see," Burris said hurriedly. +"Only wait a minute."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"You mean you've actually got a +real mind reader? You've found one? +One that works?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor shook his head sadly. +"I'm afraid I should have said, +Mr. Burris, that we did once have +one," he admitted. "He was, unfortunately, +an imbecile, with a mental +age between five and six, as nearly +as we were able to judge."</p> + +<p>"An imbecile?" Burris said. "But +how were you able to—"</p> + +<p>"He could repeat a person's +thoughts word for word," Dr. +O'Connor said. "Of course, he was +utterly incapable of understanding +the meaning behind them. That +didn't matter; he simply repeated +whatever you were thinking. Rather +disconcerting."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure," Burris said. "But he +was really an imbecile? There wasn't +any chance of—"</p> + +<p>"Of curing him?" Dr. O'Connor +said. "None, I'm afraid. We did at +one time feel that there had been a +mental breakdown early in the boy's +life, and, indeed, it's perfectly possible +that he was normal for the first +year or so. The records we did manage +to get on that period, however, +were very much confused, and there +was never any way of telling anything +at all, for certain. It's easy to +see what caused the confusion, of +course: telepathy in an imbecile is +rather an oddity—and any normal +adult would probably be rather hesitant +about admitting that he was capable +of it. That's why we have not +found another subject; we must +merely sit back and wait for lightning +to strike."</p> + +<p>Burris sighed. "I see your problem," +he said. "But what happened +to this imbecile boy of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Very sad," Dr. O'Connor said. +"Six months ago, at the age of fifteen, +the boy simply died. He simply—gave +up, and died."</p> + +<p>"Gave up?"</p> + +<p>"That was as good an explanation +as our medical department was able +to provide, Mr. Burris. There was +some malfunction, but—we like to +say that he simply gave up. Living +became too difficult for him."</p> + +<p>"All right," Burris said after a +pause. "This telepath of yours is +dead, and there aren't any more +where he came from. Or if there are, +you don't know how to look for +them. All right. But to get back to +this machine of yours: it couldn't +detect the boy's ability?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor shook his head. +"No, I'm afraid not. We've worked +hard on that problem at Westinghouse, +Mr. Burris, but we haven't +yet been able to find a method of actually +detecting telepaths."</p> + +<p>"But you can detect—"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Dr. O'Connor said. +"We can detect the fact that a man's +mind is being read." He stopped, +and his face became suddenly +morose. When he spoke again, he +sounded guilty, as if he were making +an admission that pained him. "Of +course, Mr. Burris, there's nothing +we can <i>do</i> about a man's mind being +read. Nothing whatever." He essayed +a grin that didn't look very healthy. +"But at least," he said, "you know +you're being spied on."</p> + +<p>Burris grimaced. There was a little +silence while Dr. O'Connor stroked +the metal box meditatively, as if it +were the head of his beloved.</p> + +<p>At last, Burris said: "Dr. O'Connor, +how sure can you be of all +this?"</p> + +<p>The look he received made all the +previous conversation seem as warm +and friendly as a Christmas party by +comparison. It was a look that froze +the air of the room into a solid +chunk, Malone thought, a chunk you +could have chipped pieces from, for +souvenirs, later, when Dr. O'Connor +had gone and you could get into the +room without any danger of being +quick-frozen by the man's unfriendly +eye.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Burris," Dr. O'Connor said +in a voice that matched the temperature +of his gaze, "please. Remember +our slogan."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone sighed. He fished in his +pocket for a pack of cigarettes, found +one, and extracted a single cigarette. +He stuck it in his mouth and started +fishing in various pockets for his +lighter.</p> + +<p>He sighed again. He preferred +cigars, a habit he'd acquired from +the days when he'd filched them +from his father's cigar case, but his +mental picture of the fearless and +alert young FBI agent didn't include +a cigar. Somehow, remembering his +father as neither fearless nor, exactly, +alert—anyway, not the way the +movies and the TV screens liked to +picture the words—he had the impression +that cigars looked out of +place on FBI agents.</p> + +<p>And it was, in any case, a small +sacrifice to make. He found his lighter +and shielded it from the brisk +wind. He looked out over water at +the Jefferson Memorial, and was surprised +that he'd managed to walk as +far as he had. Then he stopped +thinking about walking, and took a +puff of his cigarette, and forced himself +to think about the job in hand.</p> + +<p>Naturally, the Westinghouse gadget +had been declared Ultra Top +Secret as soon as it had been worked +out. Virtually everything was, these +days. And the whole group involved +in the machine and its workings had +been transferred without delay to the +United States Laboratories out in +Yucca Flats, Nevada.</p> + +<p>Out there in the desert, there just +wasn't much to do, Malone supposed, +except to play with the machine. +And, of course, look at the scenery. +But when you've seen one desert, +Malone thought confusedly, you've +seen them all.</p> + +<p>So, the scientists ran experiments +on the machine, and they made a +discovery of a kind they hadn't been +looking for.</p> + +<p>Somebody, they discovered, was +picking the brains of the scientists +there.</p> + +<p>Not the brains of the people +working with the telepathy machine.</p> + +<p>And not the brains of the people +working on the several other Earth-limited +projects at Yucca Flats.</p> + +<p>They'd been reading the minds of +some of the scientists working on +the new and highly classified non-rocket +space drive.</p> + +<p>In other words, the Yucca Flats +plant was infested with a telepathic +spy. And how do you go about finding +a telepath? Malone sighed. +Spies that got information in any of +the usual ways were tough enough +to locate. A telepathic spy was a lot +tougher proposition.</p> + +<p>Well, one thing about Andrew J. +Burris—he had an answer for +everything. Malone thought of what +his chief had said: "It takes a thief +to catch a thief. And if the Westinghouse +machine won't locate a telepathic +spy, I know what will."</p> + +<p>"What?" Malone had asked.</p> + +<p>"It's simple," Burris had said. +"Another telepath. There has to be +one around somewhere. Westinghouse +<i>did</i> have one, after all, and +the Russians <i>still</i> have one. Malone, +that's your job: go out and find me +a telepath."</p> + +<p>Burris had an answer for everything, +all right, Malone thought. But +he couldn't see where the answer did +him very much good. After all, if it +takes a telepath to catch a telepath, +how do you catch the telepath you're +going to use to catch the first telepath?</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/003.png" width="450" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<p>Malone ran that through his mind +again, and then gave it up. It sounded +as if it should have made sense, +somehow, but it just didn't, and that +was all there was to that.</p> + +<p>He dropped his cigarette to the +ground and mashed it out with the +toe of his shoe. Then he looked up.</p> + +<p>Out there, over the water, was the +Jefferson Memorial. It stood, white +in the floodlights, beautiful and untouchable +in the darkness. Malone +stared at it. What would Thomas +Jefferson have done in a crisis like +this?</p> + +<p>Jefferson, he told himself without +much conviction, would have been +just as confused as he was.</p> + +<p>But he'd have had to find a telepath, +Malone thought. Malone determined +that he would do likewise. +If Thomas Jefferson could do it, the +least he, Malone, could do was to +give it a good try.</p> + +<p>There was only one little problem:</p> + +<p><i>Where</i>, Malone thought, <i>do I +start looking?</i></p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>II</h2> + + +<p>Early the next morning, Malone +awoke on a plane, heading across +the continent toward Nevada. He +had gone home to sleep, and he'd +had to wake up to get on the plane, +and now here he was, waking up +again. It seemed, somehow, like a +vicious circle.</p> + +<p>The engines hummed gently as +they pushed the big ship through the +middle stratosphere's thinly distributed +molecules. Malone looked out +at the purple-dark sky and set himself +to think out his problem again.</p> + +<p>He was still mulling things over +when the ship lowered its landing +gear and rolled to a stop on the big +field near Yucca Flats. Malone +sighed and climbed slowly out of his +seat. There was a car waiting for him +at the airfield, though, and that +seemed to presage a smooth time; +Malone remembered calling Dr. +O'Connor the night before, and congratulated +himself on his foresight.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, when he reached +the main gate of the high double +fence that surrounded the more than +ninety square miles of United States +Laboratories, he found out that entrance +into that sanctum sanctorum +of Security wasn't as easy as he'd +imagined—not even for an FBI man. +His credentials were checked with +the kind of minute care Malone had +always thought people reserved for +disputed art masterpieces, and it was +with a great show of reluctance that +the Special Security guards passed +him inside as far as the office of the +Chief Security Officer.</p> + +<p>There, the Chief Security Officer +himself, a man who could have +doubled for Torquemada, eyed Malone +with ill-concealed suspicion +while he called Burris at FBI headquarters +back in Washington.</p> + +<p>Burris identified Malone on the +video screen and the Chief Security +Officer, looking faintly disappointed, +stamped the agent's pass and thanked +the FBI chief. Malone had the +run of the place.</p> + +<p>Then he had to find a courier jeep. +The Westinghouse division, it seemed, +was a good two miles away.</p> + +<p>As Malone knew perfectly well, +the main portion of the entire Yucca +Flats area was devoted solely to research +on the new space drive which +was expected to make the rocket as +obsolete as the blunderbuss—at least +as far as space travel was concerned. +Not, Malone thought uneasily, that +the blunderbuss had ever been used +for space travel, but—</p> + +<p>He got off the subject hurriedly. +The jeep whizzed by buildings, most +of them devoted to aspects of the +non-rocket drive. The other projects +based at Yucca Flats had to share +what space was left—and that included, +of course, the Westinghouse +research project.</p> + +<p>It turned out to be a single, rather +small white building with a fence +around it. The fence bothered Malone +a little, but there was no need +to worry; this time he was introduced +at once into Dr. O'Connor's office. +It was paneled in wallpaper manufactured +to look like pine, and the +telepathy expert sat behind a large +black desk bigger than any Malone +had ever seen in the FBI offices. +There wasn't a scrap of paper on the +desk; its surface was smooth and +shiny, and behind it the nearly transparent +Dr. Thomas O'Connor was +close to invisible.</p> + +<p>He looked, in person, just about +the same as he'd looked on the FBI +tapes. Malone closed the door of the +office behind him, looked for a chair +and didn't find one. In Dr. O'Connor's +office, it was perfectly obvious, +Dr. O'Connor sat down. You stood, +and were uncomfortable.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone took off his hat. He reached +across the desk to shake hands +with the telepathy expert, and Dr. +O'Connor gave him a limp and +fragile paw. "Thanks for giving me +a little time," Malone said. "I really +appreciate it." He smiled across the +desk. His feet were already beginning +to hurt.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Dr. O'Connor said, +returning the smile with one of his +own special quick-frozen brand. "I +realize how important FBI work is +to all of us, Mr. Malone. What can +I do to help you?"</p> + +<p>Malone shifted his feet. "I'm +afraid I wasn't very specific on the +phone last night," he said. "It wasn't +anything I wanted to discuss over a +line that might have been tapped. +You see, I'm on the telepathy +case."</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor's eyes widened the +merest trifle. "I see," he said. "Well, +I'll certainly do everything I can to +help you."</p> + +<p>"Fine," Malone said. "Let's get +right down to business, then. The +first thing I want to ask you about +is this detector of yours. I understand +it's too big to carry around—but +how about making a smaller +model?"</p> + +<p>"Smaller?" Dr. O'Connor permitted +himself a ghostly chuckle. "I'm +afraid that isn't possible, Mr. Malone. +I would be happy to let you +have a small model of the machine +if we had one available—more than +happy. I would like to see such a +machine myself, as a matter of fact. +Unfortunately, Mr. Malone—"</p> + +<p>"There just isn't one, right?" Malone +said.</p> + +<p>"Correct," Dr. O'Connor said. +"And there are a few other factors. +In the first place, the person being +analyzed has to be in a specially +shielded room, such as is used in +encephalographic analysis. Otherwise, +the mental activity of the other +persons around him would interfere +with the analysis." He frowned a +little. "I wish that we knew a bit +more about psionic machines. The +trouble with the present device, +frankly, is that it is partly psionic +and partly electronic, and we can't +be entirely sure where one part +leaves off and the other begins. Very +trying. Very trying indeed."</p> + +<p>"I'll bet it is," Malone said sympathetically, +wishing he understood +what Dr. O'Connor was talking +about.</p> + +<p>The telepathy expert sighed. +"However," he said, "we keep +working at it." Then he looked at +Malone expectantly.</p> + +<p>Malone shrugged. "Well, if I +can't carry the thing around, I guess +that's that," he said. "But here's the +next question: Do you happen to +know the maximum range of a telepath? +I mean: How far away can he +get from another person and still +read his mind?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor frowned again. +"We don't have definite information +on that, I'm afraid," he said. +"Poor little Charlie was rather difficult +to work with. He was mentally +incapable of co-operating in any +way, you see."</p> + +<p>"Little Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Charles O'Neill was the name of +the telepath we worked with," Dr. +O'Connor explained.</p> + +<p>"I remember," Malone said. The +name had been on one of the tapes, +but he just hadn't associated +"Charles O'Neill" with "Little +Charlie." He felt as if he'd been +caught with his homework undone. +"How did you manage to find him, +anyway?" he said. Maybe, if he knew +how Westinghouse had found their +imbecile-telepath, he'd have some +kind of clue that would enable him +to find one, too. Anyhow, it was +worth a try.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't difficult in Charlie's +case," Dr. O'Connor said. He smiled. +"The child babbled all the time, you +see."</p> + +<p>"You mean he talked about being +a telepath?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor shook his head impatiently. +"No," he said. "Not at +all. I mean that he babbled. Literally. +Here: I've got a sample recording +in my files." He got up from his +chair and went to the tall gray filing +cabinet that hid in a far corner of +the pine-paneled room. From a drawer +he extracted a spool of common +audio tape, and returned to his +desk.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry we didn't get full video +on this," he said, "but we didn't feel +it was necessary." He opened a panel +in the upper surface of the desk, and +slipped the spool in. "If you like, +there are other tapes—"</p> + +<p>"Maybe later," Malone said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor nodded and pressed +the playback switch at the side of the +great desk. For a second the room +was silent.</p> + +<p>Then there was the hiss of empty +tape, and a brisk masculine voice that +overrode it:</p> + +<p>"Westinghouse Laboratories," it +said, "sixteen April nineteen-seventy. +Dr. Walker speaking. The voice you +are about to hear belongs to Charles +O'Neill: chronological age fourteen +years, three months; mental age, approximately +five years. Further data +on this case will be found in the file +<i>O'Neill</i>."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause, filled +with more tape hiss.</p> + +<p>Then the voice began.</p> + +<p>"... push the switch for record +... in the park last Wednesday ... +and perhaps a different set of ... +poor kid never makes any sense in +... trees and leaves all sunny with +the ... electronic components of the +reducing stage might be ... not as +predictable when others are around +but ... to go with Sally some night +in the...."</p> + +<p>It was a childish, alto voice, gabbling +in a monotone. A phrase +would be spoken, the voice would +hesitate for just an instant, and then +another, totally disconnected phrase +would come. The enunciation and +pronunciation would vary from +phrase to phrase, but the tone remained +essentially the same, drained +of all emotional content.</p> + +<p>"... in receiving psychocerebral +impulses there isn't any ... nonsense +and nothing but nonsense all +the ... tomorrow or maybe Saturday +with the girl ... tube might be replaceable +only if ... something +ought to be done for the ... Saturday +would be a good time for ... +work on the schematics tonight +if...."</p> + +<p>There was a click as the tape was +turned off, and Dr. O'Connor looked +up.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't make much sense," +Malone said. "But the kid sure has +a hell of a vocabulary for an imbecile."</p> + +<p>"Vocabulary?" Dr. O'Connor said +softly.</p> + +<p>"That's right," Malone said. +"Where'd an imbecile get words like +'psychocerebral'? I don't think I +know what that means, myself."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Dr. O'Connor said. "But +that's not <i>his</i> vocabulary, you see. +What Charlie is doing is simply repeating +the thoughts of those around +him. He jumps from mind to mind, +simply repeating whatever he receives." +His face assumed the expression +of a man remembering a +bad taste in his mouth. "That's how +we found him out, Mr. Malone," he +said. "It's rather startling to look at +a blithering idiot and have him suddenly +repeat the very thought that's +in your mind."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded unhappily. It +didn't seem as if O'Connor's information +was going to be a lot of help +as far as catching a telepath was concerned. +An imbecile, apparently, +would give himself away if he were +a telepath. But nobody else seemed +to be likely to do that. And imbeciles +didn't look like very good material +for catching spies with.</p> + +<p>Then he brightened. "Is it possible +that the spy we're looking for +really isn't a spy?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, suppose he's an imbecile, +too? I doubt whether an imbecile +would really be a spy, if you see what +I mean."</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor appeared to consider +the notion. After a little while he +said: "It is, I suppose, possible. But +the readings on the machine don't +give us the same timing as they did +in Charlie's case—or even the same +sort of timing."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite follow you," Malone +said. Truthfully, he felt about +three miles behind. But perhaps +everything would clear up soon. He +hoped so. On top of everything else, +his feet were now hurting a lot +more.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps if I describe one of the +tests we ran," Dr. O'Connor said, +"things will be somewhat clearer." +He leaned back in his chair. Malone +shifted his feet again and transferred +his hat from his right hand to his +left hand.</p> + +<p>"We put one of our test subjects +in the insulated room," Dr. O'Connor +said, "and connected him to the +detector. He was to read from a book—a +book that was not too common. +This was, of course, to obviate the +chance that some other person nearby +might be reading it, or might have +read it in the past. We picked 'The +Blood is the Death,' by Hieronymus +Melanchthon, which, as you may +know, is a very rare book indeed."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Malone said. He had +never heard of the book, but he was, +after all, willing to take Dr. O'Connor's +word for it.</p> + +<p>The telepathy expert went on: +"Our test subject read it carefully, +scanning rather than skimming. +Cameras recorded the movements of +his eyes in order for us to tell just +what he was reading at any given +moment, in order to correlate what +was going on in his mind with the +reactions of the machine's indicators, +if you follow me."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded helplessly.</p> + +<p>"At the same time," Dr. O'Connor +continued blithely, "we had +Charlie in a nearby room, recording +his babblings. Every so often, he +would come out with quotations +from 'The Blood is the Death,' and +these quotations corresponded exactly +with what our test subject was +reading at the time, and also corresponded +with the abnormal fluctuations +of the detector."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor paused. Something, +Malone realized, was expected of +him. He thought of several responses +and chose one. "I see," he said.</p> + +<p>"But the important thing here," +Dr. O'Connor said, "is the timing. +You see, Charlie was incapable of +continued concentration. He could +not keep his mind focused on another +mind for very long, before he +hopped to still another. The actual +amount of time concentrated on any +given mind at any single given period +varied from a minimum of one +point three seconds to a maximum +of two point six. The timing samples, +when plotted graphically over +a period of several months, formed +a skewed bell curve with a mode at +two point oh seconds."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Malone said, wondering if +a skewed bell curve was the same +thing as a belled skew curve, and if +not, why not?</p> + +<p>"It was, in fact," Dr. O'Connor +continued relentlessly, "a sudden +variation in those timings which +convinced us that there was another +telepath somewhere in the vicinity. +We were conducting a second set of +reading experiments, in precisely the +same manner as the first set, and, +for the first part of the experiment, +our figures were substantially the +same. But—" He stopped.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Malone said, shifting his +feet and trying to take some weight +off his left foot by standing on his +right leg. Then he stood on his left +leg. It didn't seem to do any good.</p> + +<p>"I should explain," Dr. O'Connor +said, "that we were conducting +this series with a new set of test subjects: +some of the scientists here at +Yucca Flats. We wanted to see if the +intelligence quotients of the subjects +affected the time of contact which +Charlie was able to maintain. Naturally, +we picked the men here with +the highest IQ's, the two men we +have who are in the top echelon of +the creative genius class." He cleared +his throat. "I did not include myself, +of course, since I wished to remain +an impartial observer, as much +as possible."</p> + +<p>"Of course," Malone said without +surprise.</p> + +<p>"The other two geniuses," Dr. +O'Connor said, "happen to be connected +with the project known as +Project Isle—an operation whose +function I neither know, nor care to +know, anything at all about."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded. Project Isle was +the non-rocket spaceship. Classified. +Top Secret. Ultra-Secret. And, he +thought, just about anything else you +could think of.</p> + +<p>"At first," Dr. O'Connor was saying, +"our detector recorded the time +periods of ... ah mental invasion +as being the same as before. Then, +one day, anomalies began to appear. +The detector showed that the minds +of our subjects were being held for +as long as two or three minutes. But +the phrases repeated by Charlie during +these periods showed that his +own contact time remained the +same; that is, they fell within the +same skewed bell curve as before, +and the mode remained constant if +nothing but the phrase length were +recorded."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m," Malone said, feeling +that he ought to be saying something.</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor didn't notice him. +"At first we thought of errors in the +detector machine," he went on. "That +worried us not somewhat, since our +understanding of the detector is definitely +limited at this time. We do +feel that it would be possible to replace +some of the electronic components +with appropriate symbolization +like that already used in the +purely psionic sections, but we have, +as yet, been unable to determine exactly +which electronic components +must be replaced by what symbolic +components."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded, silently this time. +He had the sudden feeling that Dr. +O'Connor's flow of words had broken +itself up into a vast sea of alphabet +soup, and that he, Malone, was +occupied in drowning in it.</p> + +<p>"However," Dr. O'Connor said, +breaking what was left of Malone's +train of thought, "young Charlie +died soon thereafter, and we decided +to go on checking the machine. It +was during this period that we found +someone else reading the minds of +our test subjects—sometimes for a +few seconds, sometimes for several +minutes."</p> + +<p>"Aha," Malone said. Things were +beginning to make sense again. +<i>Someone else.</i> That, of course, was +the spy.</p> + +<p>"I found," Dr. O'Connor said, +"on interrogating the subjects more +closely, that they were, in effect, +thinking on two levels. They were +reading the book mechanically, noting +the words and sense, but simply +shuttling the material directly into +their memories without actually +thinking about it. The actual thinking +portions of their minds were +concentrating on aspects of Project +Isle."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"In other words," Malone said, +"someone was spying on them for +information about Project Isle?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely," Dr. O'Connor said +with a frosty, teacher-to-student +smile. "And whoever it was had a +much higher concentration time than +Charlie had ever attained. He seems +to be able to retain contact as long +as he can find useful information +flowing in the mind being read."</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Malone said. +"Wait a minute. If this spy is so +clever, how come he didn't read +<i>your</i> mind?"</p> + +<p>"It is very likely that he has," +O'Connor said. "What does that +have to do with it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "if he +knows you and your group are working +on telepathy and can detect what +he's doing, why didn't he just hold +off on the minds of those geniuses +when they were being tested in your +machine?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor frowned. "I'm +afraid that I can't be sure," he said, +and it was clear from his tone that, +if Dr. Thomas O'Connor wasn't +sure, no one in the entire world was, +had been, or ever would be. "I do +have a theory, however," he said, +brightening up a trifle.</p> + +<p>Malone waited patiently.</p> + +<p>"He must know our limitations," +Dr. O'Connor said at last. "He must +be perfectly well aware that there's +not a single thing we can <i>do</i> about +him. He must know that we can neither +find nor stop him. Why should +he worry? He can afford to ignore +us—or even bait us. We're helpless, +and he knows it."</p> + +<p>That, Malone thought, was about +the most cheerless thought he had +heard in some time.</p> + +<p>"You mentioned that you had an +insulated room," the FBI agent said +after a while. "Couldn't you let your +men think in there?"</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor sighed. "The room +is shielded against magnetic fields +and electromagnetic radiation. It is +perfectly transparent to psionic +phenomena, just as it is to gravitational +fields."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Malone said. He realized +rapidly that his question had been a +little silly to begin with, since the +insulated room had been the place +where all the tests had been conducted +in the first place. "I don't want +to take up too much of your time, +doctor," he said after a pause, "but +there are a couple of other questions."</p> + +<p>"Go right ahead," Dr. O'Connor +said. "I'm sure I'll be able to help +you."</p> + +<p>Malone thought of mentioning +how little help the doctor had been +to date, but decided against it. Why +antagonize a perfectly good scientist +without any reason? Instead, he selected +his first question, and asked it. +"Have you got any idea how we +might lay our hands on another telepath? +Preferably one that's not an +imbecile, of course."</p> + +<p>Dr. O Connor's expression changed +from patient wisdom to irritation. +"I wish we could, Mr. Malone. I +wish we could. We certainly need +one here to help us with our work—and +I'm sure that <i>your</i> work is important, +too. But I'm afraid we have +no ideas at all about finding another +telepath. Finding little Charlie was +purely fortuitous—purely, Mr. Malone, +fortuitous."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Malone said. "Sure. Of +course." He thought rapidly and discovered +that he couldn't come up +with one more question. As a matter +of fact, he'd asked a couple of +questions already, and he could barely +remember the answers. "Well," he +said, "I guess that's about it, then, +doctor. If you come across anything +else, be sure and let me +know."</p> + +<p>He leaned across the desk, extending +a hand. "And thanks for your +time," he added.</p> + +<p>Dr. O'Connor stood up and shook +his hand. "No trouble, I assure you," +he said. "And I'll certainly give you +all the information I can."</p> + +<p>Malone turned and walked out. +Surprisingly, he discovered that his +feet and legs still worked. He had +thought they'd turned to stone in the +office long before.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was on the plane back to Washington +that Malone got his first inkling +of an idea.</p> + +<p>The only telepath that the Westinghouse +boys had been able to turn +up was Charles O'Neill, the youthful +imbecile.</p> + +<p>All right, then. Suppose there +were another one like him. Imbeciles +weren't very difficult to locate. Most +of them would be in institutions, +and the others would certainly be on +record. It might be possible to find +someone, anyway, who could be handled +and used as a tool to find a telepathic spy.</p> + +<p>And—happy thought!—maybe +one of them would turn out to be a +high-grade imbecile, or even a +moron.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 449px;"> +<img src="images/004.png" width="449" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Even if they only turned up another +imbecile, he thought wearily, +at least Dr. O'Connor would have +something to work with.</p> + +<p>He reported back to Burris when +he arrived in Washington, told him +about the interview with Dr. O'Connor, +and explained what had come +to seem a rather feeble brainstorm.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem too productive," +Burris said, with a shade of disappointment +in his voice, "but we'll +try it."</p> + +<p>At that, it was a better verdict than +Malone had hoped for. He had nothing +to do but wait, while orders went +out to field agents all over the United +States, and quietly, but efficiently, the +FBI went to work. Agents probed +and pried and poked their noses into +the files and data sheets of every +mental institution in the fifty states—as +far, at any rate, as they were +able.</p> + +<p>It was not an easy job. The inalienable +right of a physician to +refuse to disclose confidences respecting +a patient applied even to idiots, +imbeciles, and morons. Not even the +FBI could open the private files of +a licensed and registered psychiatrist.</p> + +<p>But the field agents did the best +they could and, considering the circumstances, +their best was pretty +good.</p> + +<p>Malone, meanwhile, put in two +weeks sitting glumly at his Washington +desk and checking reports as +they arrived. They were uniformly +depressing. The United States of +America contained more subnormal +minds than Malone cared to think +about. There seemed to be enough +of them to explain the results of any +election you were unhappy over. Unfortunately, +subnormal was all you +could call them. Not one of them +appeared to possess any abnormal +psionic abilities whatever.</p> + +<p>There were a couple who were reputed +to be poltergeists—but in +neither case was there a single shred +of evidence to substantiate the +claim.</p> + +<p>At the end of the second week, +Malone was just about convinced +that his idea had been a total washout. +A full fortnight had been spent +on digging up imbeciles, while the +spy at Yucca Flats had been going +right on his merry way, scooping information +out of the men at Project +Isle as though he were scooping +beans out of a pot. And, very likely, +laughing himself silly at the feeble +efforts of the FBI.</p> + +<p>Who could he be?</p> + +<p><i>Anyone</i>, Malone told himself unhappily. +<i>Anyone at all.</i> He could be +the janitor that swept out the buildings, +one of the guards at the gate, +one of the minor technicians on another +project, or even some old +prospector wandering around the +desert with a scintillation counter.</p> + +<p>Is there any limit to telepathic +range?</p> + +<p>The spy could even be sitting +quietly in an armchair in the Kremlin, +probing through several thousand +miles of solid earth to peep into +the brains of the men on Project +Isle.</p> + +<p>That was, to say the very least, a +depressing idea.</p> + +<p>Malone found he had to assume +that the spy was in the United States—that, +in other words, there was +some effective range to telepathic +communication. Otherwise, there +was no point in bothering to continue +the search.</p> + +<p>Therefore, he found one other +thing to do. He alerted every agent +to the job of discovering how the +spy was getting his information out +of the country.</p> + +<p>He doubted that it would turn up +anything, but it was a chance. And +Malone hoped desperately for it, because +he was beginning to be sure +that the field agents were never going +to turn up any telepathic imbeciles.</p> + +<p>He was right.</p> + +<p>They never did.</p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>III</h2> + + +<p>The telephone rang.</p> + +<p>Malone rolled over on the couch +and muttered under his breath. Was +it absolutely necessary for someone +to call him at seven in the morning?</p> + +<p>He grabbed at the receiver with +one hand, and picked up his cigar +from the ashtray with the other. It +was bad enough to be awakened +from a sound sleep—but when a man +hadn't been sleeping at all, it was +even worse.</p> + +<p>He'd been sitting up since before +five that morning, worrying about +the telepathic spy, and at the moment +he wanted sleep more than he +wanted phone calls.</p> + +<p>"Gur?" he said, sleepily and angrily, +thankful that he'd never had +a visiphone installed in his apartment.</p> + +<p>A feminine voice said: "Mr. Kenneth +J. Malone?"</p> + +<p>"Who's this?" Malone said peevishly, +beginning to discover himself +capable of semirational English +speech.</p> + +<p>"Long distance from San Francisco," +the voice said.</p> + +<p>"It certainly is," Malone said. +"Who's calling?"</p> + +<p>"San Francisco is calling," the +voice said primly.</p> + +<p>Malone repressed a desire to tell +the voice off, and said instead: +"<i>Who</i> in San Francisco?"</p> + +<p>There was a momentary hiatus, +and then the voice said: "Mr. Thomas +Boyd is calling, sir. He says this +is a scramble call."</p> + +<p>Malone took a drag from his +cigar and closed his eyes. Obviously +the call was a scramble. If it had +been clear, the man would have +dialed direct, instead of going +through what Malone now recognized +as an operator.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Boyd says he is the Agent-in-Charge +of the San Francisco office +of the FBI," the voice offered.</p> + +<p>"And quite right, too," Malone +told her. "All right. Put him on."</p> + +<p>"One moment." There was a +pause, a click, another pause and +then another click. At last the operator +said: "Your party is ready, sir."</p> + +<p>Then there was still another pause. +Malone stared at the audio receiver. +He began to whistle "When Irish +Eyes Are Smiling."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Hello? Malone?"</p> + +<p>"I'm here, Tom," Malone said +guiltily. "This is me. What's the +trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble?" Boyd said. "There +isn't any trouble. Well, not really. +Or maybe it is. I don't know."</p> + +<p>Malone scowled at the audio receiver, +and for the first time wished +he had gone ahead and had a video +circuit put in, so that Boyd could see +the horrendous expression on his +face.</p> + +<p>"Look," he said. "It's seven here +and that's too early. Out there, it's +four, and that's practically ridiculous. +What's so important?"</p> + +<p>He knew perfectly well that Boyd +wasn't calling him just for the fun +of it. The man was a good agent. +But why a call at this hour?</p> + +<p>Malone muttered under his +breath. Then, self-consciously, he +squashed out his cigar and lit a cigarette +while Boyd was saying: "Ken, +I think we may have found what +you've been looking for."</p> + +<p>It wasn't safe to say too much, +even over a scrambled circuit. But +Malone got the message without difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Yeah?" he said, sitting up on +the edge of the couch. "You sure?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Boyd said, "no. Not absolutely +sure. Not absolutely. But it +is worth your taking a personal look, +I think."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Malone said cautiously. +"An imbecile?"</p> + +<p>"No," Boyd said flatly. "Not an +imbecile. Definitely not an imbecile. +As a matter of fact, a hell of a fat +long way from an imbecile."</p> + +<p>Malone glanced at his watch and +skimmed over the airline timetables +in his mind. "I'll be there nine +o'clock, your time," he said. "Have +a car waiting for me at the +field."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>As usual, Malone managed to +sleep better on the plane than he'd +been able to do at home. He slept so +well, in fact, that he was still groggy +when he stepped into the waiting +car.</p> + +<p>"Good to see you, Ken," Boyd +said briskly, as he shook Malone's +hand.</p> + +<p>"You, too, Tom," Malone said +sleepily. "Now what's all this +about?" He looked around apprehensively. +"No bugs in this car, I +hope?" he said.</p> + +<p>Boyd gunned the motor and headed +toward the San Francisco Freeway. +"Better not be," he said, "or +I'll fire me a technician or two."</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Malone said, relaxing +against the upholstery, "where +is this guy, and who is he? And how +did you find him?"</p> + +<p>Boyd looked uncomfortable. It +was, somehow, both an awe-inspiring +and a slightly risible sight. Six +feet one and one half inches tall in +his flat feet, Boyd ported around +over two hundred and twenty pounds +of bone, flesh and muscle. He swung +a potbelly of startling proportions +under the silk shirting he wore, and +his face, with its wide nose, small +eyes and high forehead, was half +highly mature, half startlingly childlike. +In an apparent effort to erase +those childlike qualities, Boyd sported +a fringe of beard and a mustache +which reminded Malone of somebody +he couldn't quite place.</p> + +<p>But whoever the somebody was, +his hair hadn't been black, as +Boyd's was—</p> + +<p>He decided it didn't make any difference. +Anyhow, Boyd was speaking.</p> + +<p>"In the first place," he said, "it +isn't a guy. In the second, I'm not +exactly sure who it is. And in the +third, Ken, I didn't find it."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me," Malone said. +"It's a telepathic horse, isn't it? Tom, +I just don't think I could stand a +telepathic horse—"</p> + +<p>"No," Boyd said hastily. "No. +Not at all. No horse. It's a dame. I +mean a lady." He looked away from +the road and flashed a glance at Malone. +His eyes seemed to be pleading +for something—understanding, possibly, +Malone thought. "Frankly," +Boyd said, "I'd rather not tell you +anything about her just yet. I'd rather +you met her first. Then you could +make up your own mind. All right?"</p> + +<p>"All right," Malone said wearily. +"Do it your own way. How far do +we have to go?"</p> + +<p>"Just about an hour's drive," +Boyd said. "That's all."</p> + +<p>Malone slumped back in the seat +and pushed his hat over his eyes. +"Fine," he said. "Suppose you wake +me up when we get there."</p> + +<p>But, groggy as he was, he couldn't +sleep. He wished he'd had some coffee +on the plane. Maybe it would +have made him feel better.</p> + +<p>Then again, coffee was only coffee. +True, he had never acquired his +father's taste for gin, but there was +always bourbon.</p> + +<p>He thought about bourbon for a +few minutes. It was a nice thought. +It warmed him and made him feel a +lot better. After a while, he even felt +awake enough to do some talking.</p> + +<p>He pushed his hat back and struggled +to a reasonable sitting position. +"I don't suppose you have a drink +hidden away in the car somewhere?" +he said tentatively. "Or would the +technicians have found that, too?"</p> + +<p>"Better not have," Boyd said in +the same tone as before, "or I'll fire +a couple of technicians." He grinned +without turning. "It's in the door +compartment, next to the forty-five +cartridges and the Tommy gun."</p> + +<p>Malone opened the compartment +in the thick door of the car and extracted +a bottle. It was brandy instead +of the bourbon he had been +thinking about, but he discovered +that he didn't mind at all. It went +down as smoothly as milk.</p> + +<p>Boyd glanced at it momentarily as +Malone screwed the top back on.</p> + +<p>"No," Malone said in answer to +the unspoken question. "You're +driving." Then he settled back again +and tipped his hat forward.</p> + +<p>He didn't sleep a wink. He was +perfectly sure of that. But it wasn't +over two seconds later that Boyd +said: "We're here, Ken. Wake up."</p> + +<p>"Whadyamean, wakeup," Malone +said. "I wasn't asleep." He thumbed +his hat back and sat up rapidly. +"Where's 'here'?"</p> + +<p>"Bayview Neuropsychiatric Hospital," +Boyd said. "This is where Dr. +Harman works, you know."</p> + +<p>"No," Malone said. "As a matter +of fact, I don't know. You didn't tell +me—remember? And who is Dr. +Harman, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>The car was moving up a long, +curving driveway toward a large, +lawn-surrounded building. Boyd +spoke without looking away from the +road.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "this Dr. Willard +Harman is the man who phoned us +yesterday. One of my field agents +was out here asking around about +imbeciles and so on. Found nothing, +by the way. And then this Dr. Harman +called, later. Said he had someone +here I might be interested in. So +I came on out myself for a look, yesterday +afternoon ... after all, we +had instructions to follow up every +possible lead."</p> + +<p>"I know," Malone said. "I wrote +them."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Boyd said. "Sure. Well, +anyhow, I talked to this dame. +Lady."</p> + +<p>"And?"</p> + +<p>"And I talked to her," Boyd said. +"I'm not entirely sure of anything +myself. But ... well, hell. You take +a look at her."</p> + +<p>He pulled the car up to a parking +space, slid nonchalantly into a slot +marked <i>Reserved—Executive Director +Sutton</i>, and slid out from under +the wheel while Malone got out the +other side.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>They marched up the broad steps, +through the doorway and into the +glass-fronted office of the receptionist.</p> + +<p>Boyd showed her his little golden +badge, and got an appropriate gasp. +"FBI," he said. "Dr. Harman's expecting +us."</p> + +<p>The wait wasn't over fifteen seconds. +Boyd and Malone marched +down the hall and around a couple +of corners, and came to the doctor's +office. The door was opaqued glass +with nothing but a room number +stenciled on it. Without ceremony, +Boyd pushed the door open. Malone +followed him inside.</p> + +<p>The office was small but sunny. +Dr. Willard Harman sat behind a +blond-wood desk, a chunky little +man with crew-cut blond hair and +rimless eyeglasses, who looked about +thirty-two and couldn't possibly, +Malone thought, have been anywhere +near that young. On a second look, +Malone noticed a better age indication +in the eyes and forehead, and +revised his first guess upward between +ten and fifteen years.</p> + +<p>"Come in, gentlemen," Dr. Harman +boomed. His voice was that +rarity, a really loud high tenor.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Harman," Boyd said, "this +is my superior, Mr. Malone. We'd +like to have a talk with Miss Thompson."</p> + +<p>"I anticipated that, sir," Dr. Harman +said. "Miss Thompson is in the +next room. Have you explained to +Mr. Malone that—"</p> + +<p>"I haven't explained a thing," +Boyd said quickly, and added in +what was obviously intended to be +a casual tone: "Mr. Malone wants +to get a picture of Miss Thompson +directly—without any preconceptions."</p> + +<p>"I see," Dr. Harman said. "Very +well, gentlemen. Through this door."</p> + +<p>He opened the door in the right-hand +wall of the room, and Malone +took one look. It was a long, long +look. Standing framed in the doorway, +dressed in the starched white +of a nurse's uniform, was the most +beautiful blonde he had ever seen.</p> + +<p>She had curves. She definitely had +curves. As a matter of fact, Malone +didn't really think he had ever seen +curves before. These were something +new and different and truly three-dimensional. +But it wasn't the +curves, or the long straight lines of +her legs, or the quiet beauty of her +face, that made her so special. After +all, Malone had seen legs and bodies +and faces before.</p> + +<p>At least, he thought he had. Off-hand, +he couldn't remember where. +Looking at the girl, Malone was +ready to write brand-new definitions +for every anatomical term. Even a +term like "hands." Malone had +never seen anything especially arousing +in the human hand before—anyway, +not when the hand was just +lying around, so to speak, attached +to its wrist but not doing anything +in particular. But these hands, long, +slender and tapering, white and cool-looking....</p> + +<p>And yet, it wasn't just the sheer +physical beauty of the girl. She had +something else, something more and +something different. (<i>Something +borrowed</i>, Malone thought in a semi-delirious +haze, <i>and something blue</i>.) +Personality? Character? Soul?</p> + +<p>Whatever it was, Malone decided, +this girl had it. She had enough of +it to supply the entire human race, +and any others that might exist in +the Universe. Malone smiled at the +girl and she smiled back.</p> + +<p>After seeing the smile, Malone +wasn't sure he could still walk evenly. +Somehow, though, he managed +to go over to her and extend his +hand. The notion that a telepath +would turn out to be this mind-searing +Epitome had never crossed his +mind, but now, somehow, it seemed +perfectly fitting and proper.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Miss Thompson," +he said in what he hoped was +a winning voice.</p> + +<p>The smile disappeared. It was like +the sun going out.</p> + +<p>The vision appeared to be troubled. +Malone was about to volunteer +his help—if necessary, for the next +seventy years—when she spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'm not Miss Thompson," she +said.</p> + +<p>"This is one of our nurses," Dr. +Harman put in. "Miss Wilson, Mr. +Malone. And Mr. Boyd. Miss +Thompson, gentlemen, is over +there."</p> + +<p>Malone turned.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>There, in a corner of the room, +an old lady sat. She was a small old +lady, with apple-red cheeks and +twinkling eyes. She held some knitting +in her hands, and she smiled +up at the FBI men as if they were +her grandsons come for tea and +cookies, of a Sunday afternoon.</p> + +<p>She had snow-white hair that +shone like a crown around her old +head in the lights of the room. Malone +blinked at her. She didn't disappear.</p> + +<p>"<i>You're</i> Miss Thompson?" he +said.</p> + +<p>She smiled sweetly. "Oh, my, no," +she said.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Malone +looked at her. Then he looked at the +unbelievably beautiful Miss Wilson. +Then he looked at Dr. Harman. And, +at last, he looked at Boyd.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "I get it. +<i>You're</i> Miss Thompson."</p> + +<p>"Now, wait a minute, Malone," +Boyd began.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute?" Malone said. +"There are four people here, not +counting me. I know I'm not Miss +Thompson. I never was, not even as +a child. And Dr. Harman isn't, and +Miss Wilson isn't, and Whistler's +Great-Grandmother isn't, either. So +you must be. Unless she isn't here. +Or unless she's invisible. Or unless +I'm crazy."</p> + +<p>"It isn't <i>you</i>, Malone," Boyd said.</p> + +<p>"What isn't me?"</p> + +<p>"That's crazy," Boyd said.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Malone said. "I'm not +crazy. Then will somebody please +tell me—"</p> + +<p>The little old lady cleared her +throat. A silence fell. When it was +complete she spoke, and her voice +was as sweet and kindly as anything +Malone had ever heard.</p> + +<p>"You may call me Miss Thompson," +she said. "For the present, at +any rate. They all do here. It's a +pseudonym I have to use."</p> + +<p>"A pseudonym?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr. Malone," Miss +Wilson began.</p> + +<p>Malone stopped her. "Don't talk," +he said. "I have to concentrate and +if you talk I can barely think." He +took off his hat suddenly, and began +twisting the brim in his hands. "You +understand, don't you?"</p> + +<p>The trace of a smile appeared +on her face. "I think I do," she said.</p> + +<p>"Now," Malone said, "you're Miss +Thompson, but not really, because +you have to use a pseudonym." He +blinked at the little old lady. +"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "otherwise people +would find out about my little +secret."</p> + +<p>"Your little secret," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"That's right," the little old lady +said. "I'm immortal, you see."</p> + +<p>Malone said: "Oh." Then he kept +quiet for a long time. It didn't seem +to him that anyone in the room was +breathing.</p> + +<p>He said: "Oh," again, but it +didn't sound any better than it had +the first time. He tried another +phrase. "You're immortal," he said.</p> + +<p>"That's right," the little old lady +agreed sweetly.</p> + +<p>There was only one other question +to ask, and Malone set his teeth +grimly and asked it. It came out just +a trifle indistinct, but the little old +lady nodded.</p> + +<p>"My real name?" she said. "Elizabeth. +Elizabeth Tudor, of course. I +used to be Queen."</p> + +<p>"Of England," Malone said faintly.</p> + +<p>"Malone, look—" Boyd began.</p> + +<p>"Let me get it all at once," Malone +told him. "I'm strong. I can +take it." He twisted his hat again +and turned back to the little old lady.</p> + +<p>"You're immortal, and you're not +really Miss Thompson, but Queen +Elizabeth I?" he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said. "How +clever of you. Of course, after little +Jimmy—cousin Mary's boy, I mean—said +I was dead and claimed the +Throne, I decided to change my name +and all. And that's what I did. But +I am Elizabeth Regina." She smiled, +and her eyes twinkled merrily. Malone +stared at her for a long minute.</p> + +<p><i>Burris</i>, he thought, <i>is going to +love this</i>.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so glad," the little old +lady said. "Do you really think he +will? Because I'm sure I'll like your +Mr. Burris, too. All of you FBI men +are so charming. Just like poor, poor +Essex."</p> + +<p>Well, Malone told himself, that +was that. He'd found himself a telepath.</p> + +<p>And she wasn't an imbecile.</p> + +<p>Oh, no. That would have been +simple.</p> + +<p>Instead, she was battier than a +cathedral spire.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The long silence was broken by +the voice of Miss Wilson.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Malone," she said, "you've +been thinking." She stopped. "I +mean, you've been so quiet."</p> + +<p>"I like being quiet," Malone said +patiently. "Besides—" He stopped +and turned to the little old lady. <i>Can +you really read my mind?</i> he thought +deliberately. After a second he added: +<i>... your majesty?</i></p> + +<p>"How sweet of you, Mr. Malone," +she said. "Nobody's called me that +for centuries. But of course I can. +Although it's not reading, really. +After all, that would be like asking +if I can read your voice. Of course +I can, Mr. Malone."</p> + +<p>"That does it," Malone said. "I'm +not a hard man to convince. And +when I see the truth, I'm the first +one to admit it, even if it makes me +look like a nut." He turned back to +the little old lady. "Begging your +pardon," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my," the little old lady said. +"I really don't mind at all. Sticks +and stones, you know, can break my +bones. But being called nuts, Mr. +Malone, can never hurt me. After +all, it's been so many years—so many +hundreds of years—"</p> + +<p>"Sure," Malone said easily.</p> + +<p>Boyd broke in. "Listen, Malone," +he said, "do you mind telling me +what is going on?"</p> + +<p>"It's very simple," Malone said. +"Miss Thompson here ... pardon +me; I mean Queen Elizabeth I ... +really is a telepath. That's all. I think +I want to lie down somewhere until +it goes away."</p> + +<p>"Until what goes away?" Miss +Wilson said.</p> + +<p>Malone stared at her almost without +seeing her, if not quite. "Everything," +he said. He closed his eyes.</p> + +<p>"My goodness," the little old lady +said after a second. "Everything's so +confused. Poor Mr. Malone is terribly +shaken up by everything." She +stood up, still holding her knitting, +and went across the room. Before +the astonished eyes of the doctor and +nurse, and Tom Boyd, she patted the +FBI agent on the shoulder. "There, +there, Mr. Malone," she said. "It +will all be perfectly all right. You'll +see." Then she returned to her seat.</p> + +<p>Malone opened his eyes. He turned +to Dr. Harman. "You called up Boyd +here," he said, "and told him that +... er ... Miss Thompson was a +telepath. Howd' you know?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right," the little old lady +put in from her chair. "I don't mind +your calling me Miss Thompson, not +right now, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Malone said faintly.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harman was blinking in a +kind of befuddled astonishment. +"You mean she really <i>is</i> a—" He +stopped and brought his tenor voice +to a squeaking halt, regained his professional +poise, and began again. +"I'd rather not discuss the patient in +her presence, Mr. Malone," he said. +"If you'll just come into my office—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>bosh</i>, Dr. Harman," the little +old lady said primly. "I do wish +you'd give your own Queen credit +for some ability. Goodness knows +you think <i>you're</i> smart enough."</p> + +<p>"Now, now, Miss Thompson," he +said in what was obviously his best +Grade A Choice Government Inspected +couchside manner. "Don't...."</p> + +<p>"... Upset yourself," she finished +for him. "Now, really, doctor. I +know what you're going to tell +them."</p> + +<p>"But Miss Thompson, I—"</p> + +<p>"You didn't honestly think I <i>was</i> +a telepath," the little old lady said. +"Heavens, we know that. And +you're going to tell them how I used +to say I could read minds ... oh, +years and years ago. And because of +that you thought it might be worth +while to tell the FBI about me—which +wasn't very kind of you, doctor, +before you knew anything about +why they wanted somebody like +me."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Now, now, Miss Thompson," +Miss Wilson said, walking across +the room to put an arm around the +little old lady's shoulder. Malone +wished for one brief second that he +were the old little old lady. Maybe +if he were a patient in the hospital +he would get the same treatment.</p> + +<p>He wondered if he could possibly +work such a deal.</p> + +<p>Then he wondered if it would be +worth while, being nuts. But of +course it would. He was nuts anyhow, +wasn't he?</p> + +<p>Sure, he told himself. They were +all nuts.</p> + +<p>"Nobody's going to hurt you," +Miss Wilson said. She was talking to +the old lady. "You'll be perfectly all +right and you don't have to worry +about a thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, dear, I know that," the +little old lady said. "You only want +to help me, dear. You're so kind. +And these FBI men really don't +mean any harm. But Dr. Harman +didn't know that. He just thinks I'm +crazy and that's all."</p> + +<p>"Please, Miss Thompson—" Dr. +Harman began.</p> + +<p>"Just crazy, that's all," the little +old lady said. She turned away for a +second and nobody said anything. +Then she turned back. "Do you all +know what he's thinking now?" she +said. Dr. Harman turned a dull purple, +but she ignored him. "He's +wondering why I didn't take the +trouble to prove all this to you years +ago. And besides that, he's thinking +about—"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 161px;"> +<img src="images/005.png" width="161" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Miss Thompson," Dr. Harman +said. His bedside manner had cracked +through and his voice was harsh +and strained. "Please."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right," she said, a little +petulantly. "If you want to keep all +that private."</p> + +<p>Malone broke in suddenly, fascinated. +"Why didn't you prove you +were telepathic before now?" he +said.</p> + +<p>The little old lady smiled at him. +"Why, because you wouldn't have +believed me," she said. She dropped +her knitting neatly in her lap and +folded her hands over it. "None of +you <i>wanted</i> to believe me," she said, +and sniffed. Miss Wilson moved +nervously and she looked up. "And +don't tell me it's going to be all +right. I know it's going to be all +right. I'm going to make sure of +that."</p> + +<p>Malone felt a sudden chill. But it +was obvious, he told himself, that the +little old lady didn't mean what she +was saying. She smiled at him again, +and her smile was as sweet and guileless +as the smile on the face of his +very own sainted grandmother.</p> + +<p>Not that Malone remembered his +grandmother; she had died before +he'd been born. But if he'd had a +grandmother, and if he'd remembered +her, he was sure she would have +had the same sweet smile.</p> + +<p>So she couldn't have meant what +she'd said. Would Malone's own +grandmother make things difficult +for him? The very idea was ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harman opened his mouth, +apparently changed his mind, and +shut it again. The little old lady +turned to him.</p> + +<p>"Were you going to ask why I +bothered to prove anything to Mr. +Malone?" she said. "Of course you +were, and I shall tell you. It's because +Mr. Malone <i>wanted</i> to believe +me. He <i>wants</i> me. He <i>needs</i> me. I'm +a telepath, and that's enough for Mr. +Malone. Isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Gur," Malone said, taken by surprise. +After a second he added: "I +guess so."</p> + +<p>"You see, doctor?" the little old +lady said.</p> + +<p>"But you—" Dr. Harman began.</p> + +<p>"I read minds," the little old lady +said. "That's right, doctor. That's +what makes me a telepath."</p> + +<p>Malone's brain was whirling rapidly, +like a distant galaxy. "Telepath" +was a nice word, he thought. +How did you telepath from a road?</p> + +<p>Simple.</p> + +<p>A road is paved.</p> + +<p>Malone thought that was pretty +funny, but he didn't laugh. He +thought he would never laugh again. +He wanted to cry, a little, but he +didn't think he'd be able to manage +that either.</p> + +<p>He twisted his hat, but it didn't +make him feel any better. Gradually, +he became aware that the little old +lady was talking to Dr. Harman +again.</p> + +<p>"But," she said, "since it will make +you feel so much better, doctor, we +give you our Royal permission to +retire, and to speak to Mr. Malone +alone."</p> + +<p>"Malone alone," Dr. Harman +muttered. "Hm-m-m. My. Well." He +turned and seemed to be surprised +that Malone was actually standing +near him. "Yes," he said. "Well. +Mr. Alone ... Malone ... please, +whoever you are, just come into my +office, please?"</p> + +<p>Malone looked at the little old +lady. One of her eyes closed and +opened. It was an unmistakable +wink.</p> + +<p>Malone grinned at her in what he +hoped was a cheerful manner. "All +right," he said to the psychiatrist, +"let's go." He turned with the barest +trace of regret, and Boyd followed +him. Leaving the little old lady and, +unfortunately, the startling Miss +Wilson, behind, the procession filed +back into Dr. Harman's office.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The doctor closed the door, and +leaned against it for a second. He +looked as though someone had suddenly +revealed to him that the world +was square. But when he spoke his +voice was almost even.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, gentlemen," he said, +and indicated chairs. "I really ... +well, I don't know what to say. All +this time, all these years, she's been +reading my mind! My mind. She's +been reading ... looking right into +my mind, or whatever it is."</p> + +<p>"Whatever what is?" Malone asked, +sincerely interested. He had +dropped gratefully into a chair near +Boyd's, across the desk from Dr. +Harman.</p> + +<p>"Whatever my <i>mind</i> is," Dr. Harman +said. "Reading it. Oh, my."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Harman," Malone began, +but the psychiatrist gave him a +bright blank stare.</p> + +<p>"Don't you understand?" he said. +"She's a telepath."</p> + +<p>"We—"</p> + +<p>The phone on Dr. Harman's desk +chimed gently. He glanced at it and +said: "Excuse me. The phone." He +picked up the receiver and said: +"Hello?"</p> + +<p>There was no image on the +screen.</p> + +<p>But the voice was image enough. +"This is Andrew J. Burris," it said. +"Is Kenneth J. Malone there?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Malone?" the psychiatrist +said. "I mean, Mr. Burris? Mr. Malone +is here. Yes. Oh, my. Do you +want to talk to him?"</p> + +<p>"No, you idiot," the voice said. +"I just want to know if he's all tucked +in."</p> + +<p>"Tucked in?" Dr. Harman gave +the phone a sudden smile. "A joke," +he said. "It <i>is</i> a joke, isn't it? The +way things have been happening, +you never know whether—"</p> + +<p>"A joke," Burris' voice said. +"That's right. Yes. Am I talking to +one of the patients?"</p> + +<p>Dr. Harman gulped, got mad, and +thought better of it. At last he said, +very gently: "I'm not at all sure," +and handed the phone to Malone.</p> + +<p>The FBI agent said: "Hello, chief. +Things are a little confused."</p> + +<p>Burris' face appeared on the +screen. "Confused, sure," he said. "I +feel confused already." He took a +breath. "I called the San Francisco +office, and they told me you and +Boyd were out there. What's going +on?"</p> + +<p>Malone said cautiously: "We've +found a telepath."</p> + +<p>Burris' eyes widened slightly. "Another +one?"</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about, +another one?" Malone said. "We +have one. Does anybody else have +any more?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Burris said, "we just got +a report on another one—maybe. +Besides yours, I mean."</p> + +<p>"I hope the one you've got is in +better shape than the one I've got," +Malone said. He took a deep breath, +and then spat it all out at once: "The +one we've found is a little old lady. +She thinks she's Queen Elizabeth I. +She's a telepath, sure, but she's +nuts."</p> + +<p>"Queen Elizabeth?" Burris said. +"Of England?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Malone said. He +held his breath.</p> + +<p>"Damn it," Burris exploded, +"they've already got one."</p> + +<p>Malone sighed. "This is another +one," he said. "Or, rather, the original +one. She also claims she's immortal."</p> + +<p>"Lives forever?" Burris said. +"You mean like that?"</p> + +<p>"Immortal," Malone said. "Right."</p> + +<p>Burris nodded. Then he looked +worried. "Tell me, Malone," he +said. "She <i>isn't</i>, is she?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't immortal, you mean?" Malone +said. Burris nodded. Malone +said confidently: "Of course not."</p> + +<p>There was a little pause. Malone +thought things over.</p> + +<p>Hell, maybe she was immortal. +Stranger things had happened, hadn't +they?</p> + +<p>He looked over at Dr. Harman. +"How about that?" he said. "Could +she be immortal?"</p> + +<p>The psychiatrist shook his head decisively. +"She's been here for over +forty years, Mr. Malone, ever since +her late teens. Her records show all +that, and her birth certificate is in +perfect order. Not a chance."</p> + +<p>Malone sighed and turned back to +the phone. "Of course she isn't immortal, +chief," he said. "She couldn't +be. Nobody is. Just a nut."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid of that," Burris said.</p> + +<p>"Afraid?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>Burris nodded. "We've got another +one—if he checks out," he said. +"Right here in Washington—St. +Elizabeths."</p> + +<p>"Another nut?"</p> + +<p>"Strait-jacket case," Burris said. +"Delusions of persecution. Paranoia. +And a lot of other things I can't +pronounce. But I'm sending him on +out to Yucca Flats anyhow, under +guard. You might find a use for +him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, sure," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"We can't afford to overlook a +thing," Burris said.</p> + +<p>Malone sighed. "I know," he +said. "But all the same—"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about a thing, Malone," +Burris said with a palpably +false air of confidence. "You get +this Queen Elizabeth of yours out of +there and take her to Yucca Flats, +too."</p> + +<p>Malone considered the possibilities. +Maybe they would find more +telepaths. Maybe all the telepaths +would be nuts. It didn't seem unlikely. +Imagine having a talent that +nobody would believe you had. It +might very easily drive you crazy +to be faced with a situation like +that.</p> + +<p>And there they would be in Yucca +Flats. Kenneth J. Malone, and a convention +of looney-bin inhabitants.</p> + +<p>Fun!</p> + +<p>Malone began to wonder why he +had gone into FBI work in the first +place.</p> + +<p>"Listen, chief," he said. "I—"</p> + +<p>"Sure, I understand," Burris said +quickly. "She's batty. But what else +can we do? Malone, don't do anything +you'll regret."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, don't resign."</p> + +<p>"Chief, how did you know—you're +not telepathic too, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not," Burris said. "But +that's what I would do in your place. +And don't do it."</p> + +<p>"Look, chief," Malone said. +"These nuts—"</p> + +<p>"Malone, you've done a wonderful +job so far," Burris said. "You'll +get a raise and a better job when all +this is over. Who else would have +thought of looking in the twitch-bins +for telepaths? But you did, Malone, +and I'm proud of you, and +you're stuck with it. We've got to +use them now. We have to find that +spy!" He took a breath. "On to +Yucca Flats!" he said.</p> + +<p>Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he +said. "Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Not right now," Burris said. "If +there is, I'll let you know."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone hung up unhappily as the +image vanished. He looked at Dr. +Harman. "Well," he said, "that's +that. What do I have to do to get a +release for Miss Thompson?"</p> + +<p>Harman stared at him. "But, Mr. +Malone," he said, "that just isn't +possible. Really. Miss Thompson is +a ward of the state, and we couldn't +possibly allow her release without a +court order."</p> + +<p>Malone thought that over. "O.K.," +he said at last. "I can see that." He +turned to Boyd. "Here's a job for +you, Tom," he said. "Get one of the +judges on the phone. You'll know +which one will do us the most good, +fastest."</p> + +<p>"Hm-m-m," Boyd said. "Say +Judge Dunning," he said. "Good +man. Fast worker."</p> + +<p>"I don't care who," Malone said. +"Just get going, and get us a release +for Miss Thompson." He turned +back to the doctor. "By the way," +he said, "has she got any other +name? Besides Elizabeth Tudor, I +mean," he added hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Her full name," Dr. Harman +said, "is Rose Walker Thompson. +She is not Queen Elizabeth I, II, or +XXVIII, and she is not immortal."</p> + +<p>"But she is," Malone pointed out, +"a telepath. And that's why I want +her."</p> + +<p>"She may," Dr. Harman said, "be +a telepath." It was obvious that he +had partly managed to forget the +disturbing incidents that had happened +a few minutes before. "I don't +even want to discuss that part of it."</p> + +<p>"O.K., never mind it," Malone +said agreeably. "Tom, get us a court +order for Rose Walker Thompson. +Effective yesterday—day before, if +possible."</p> + +<p>Boyd nodded, but before he could +get to the phone Dr. Harman spoke +again.</p> + +<p>"Now, wait a moment, gentlemen," +he said. "Court order or no +court order, Miss Thompson is definitely +not a well woman, and I can't +see my way clear to—"</p> + +<p>"I'm not well myself," Malone +said. "I need sleep and I probably +have a cold. But I've got to work +for the national security, and—"</p> + +<p>"This is important," Boyd put in.</p> + +<p>"I don't dispute that," Dr. Harman +said. "Nevertheless, I—"</p> + +<p>The door that led into the other +room suddenly burst open. The three +men turned to stare at Miss Wilson, +who stood in the doorway for a long +second and then stepped into the office, +closing the door quietly behind +her.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Malone said. "It's a +pleasure to have you. Come again +soon." He smiled at her.</p> + +<p>She didn't smile back. "Doctor," +she said, "you better talk to Miss +Thompson. I'm not at all sure what +I can do. It's something new."</p> + +<p>"New?" he said. The worry lines +on his face were increasing, but he +spoke softly.</p> + +<p>"The poor dear thinks she's going +to get out of the hospital now," Miss +Wilson said. "For some reason, she's +convinced that the FBI is going to +get her released, and—"</p> + +<p>As she saw the expressions on +three faces, she stopped.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wilson," Malone said, "we +... may I call you by your first +name?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, Mr. Malone," she +said.</p> + +<p>There was a little silence.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wilson," Malone said, +"what <i>is</i> your first name?"</p> + +<p>She smiled now, very gently. Malone +wanted to walk through mountains, +or climb fire. He felt confused, +but wonderful. "Barbara," she said.</p> + +<p>"Lovely," he said. "Well, Barbara +... and please call me Ken. It's +short for Kenneth."</p> + +<p>The smile on her face broadened. +"I thought it might be," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said softly, "it is. +Kenneth. That's my name. And +you're Barbara."</p> + +<p>Boyd cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>"Ah," Malone said. "Yes. Of +course. Well, Barbara ... well, +that's just what we intend to do. +Take Miss Thompson away. We +need her—badly."</p> + +<p>Dr. Harman had said nothing at +all, and had barely moved. He was +staring at a point on his desk. "She +couldn't possibly have heard us," he +muttered. "That's a soundproof +door. She couldn't have heard us."</p> + +<p>"But you can't take Miss Thompson +away," Miss Wilson said.</p> + +<p>"We have to, Barbara," Malone +said gently. "Try to understand. It's +for the national security."</p> + +<p>"She heard us thinking," Dr. Harman +muttered. "That's what; she +heard us thinking. Behind a soundproof +door. She can see inside their +minds. She can even see inside <i>my</i> +mind."</p> + +<p>"She's a sick woman," Barbara +said.</p> + +<p>"But you have to understand—"</p> + +<p>"Vital necessity," Boyd put in. +"Absolutely vital."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless—" Barbara said.</p> + +<p>"She can read minds," Dr. Harman +whispered in an awed tone. +"She knows. Everything. She +<i>knows</i>."</p> + +<p>"It's out of the question," Barbara +said. "Whether you like it or +not. Miss Thompson is not going to +leave this hospital. Why, what could +she do outside these walls? She +hasn't left in over forty years! And +furthermore, Mr. Malone—"</p> + +<p>"Kenneth," Malone put in, as the +door opened again. "I mean Ken."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The little old lady put her haloed +head into the room. "Now, now, +Barbara," she said. "Don't you go +spoiling things. Just let these nice +men take me away and everything +will be fine, believe me. Besides, I've +been outside more often than you +imagine."</p> + +<p>"Outside?" Barbara said.</p> + +<p>"Of course," the little old lady +said. "In other people's minds. Even +yours. I remember that nice young +man ... what was his name?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind his name," Barbara +said, flushing furiously.</p> + +<p>Malone felt instantly jealous of +every nice young man he had ever +even heard of. <i>He</i> wasn't a nice +young man; he was an FBI agent, +and he liked to drink and smoke +cigars and carouse.</p> + +<p>All nice young men, he decided, +should be turned into ugly old men +as soon as possible. That'd fix +them!</p> + +<p>He noticed the little old lady +smiling at him, and tried to change +his thoughts rapidly. But the little +old lady said nothing at all.</p> + +<p>"At any rate," Barbara said, "I'm +afraid that we just can't—"</p> + +<p>Dr. Harman cleared his throat imperiously. +It was a most impressive +noise, and everyone turned to look +at him. His face was a little gray, +but he looked, otherwise, like a +rather pudgy, blond, crew-cut Roman +emperor.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment," he said with +dignity, "I think you're doing the +United States of America a grave injustice, +Miss Wilson—and that +you're doing an injustice to Miss +Thompson, too."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be nice for her +to get away from me—I mean from +here," the psychiatrist said. "Where +did you say you were taking her?" +he asked Malone.</p> + +<p>"Yucca Flats," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Ah." The news seemed to please +the psychiatrist. "That's a long distance +from here, isn't it? It's quite +a few hundred miles away. Perhaps +even a few thousand miles away. I +feel sure that will be the best thing +for me ... I mean, of course, for +Miss Thompson. I shall recommend +that the court so order."</p> + +<p>"Doctor—" But even Barbara +saw, Malone could tell, that it was +no good arguing with Dr. Harman. +She tried a last attack. "Doctor, +who's going to take care of her?"</p> + +<p>A light the size and shape of +North America burst in Malone's +mind. He almost chortled. But he +managed to keep his voice under control. +"What she needs," he said, "is +a trained psychiatric nurse."</p> + +<p>Barbara Wilson gave him a look +that had carloads of U<sub>235</sub> stacked +away in it, but Malone barely minded. +She'd get over it, he told himself.</p> + +<p>"Now, wasn't that sweet of you +to think of that," the little old lady +said. Malone looked at her and was +rewarded with another wink.</p> + +<p>"I'm certainly glad you thought of +Barbara," the little old lady went on. +"You will go with me won't you, +dear? I'll make you a duchess. +Wouldn't you like to be a duchess, +dear?"</p> + +<p>Barbara looked from Malone to +the little old lady, and then she +looked at Dr. Harman. Apparently +what she saw failed to make her +happy.</p> + +<p>"We'll take good care of her, Barbara," +Malone said.</p> + +<p>She didn't even bother to give him +an answer. After a second Boyd +said: "Well, I guess that settles it. +If you'll let me use your phone, Dr. +Harman, I'll call Judge Dunning."</p> + +<p>"Go right ahead," Dr. Harman +said. "Go right ahead."</p> + +<p>The little old lady smiled softly +without looking at anybody at all. +"Won't it be wonderful?" she whispered. +"At last I've been recognized. +My country is about to pay me for +my services. My loyal subjects—" +She stopped and wiped what Malone +thought was a tear from one cornflower-blue +eye.</p> + +<p>"Now, now, Miss Thompson," +Barbara said.</p> + +<p>"I'm not sad," the little old lady +said, smiling up at her. "I'm just so +very happy. I am about to get my +reward, my well-deserved reward at +last, from all of my loyal subjects. +You'll see." She paused and Malone +felt a faint stirring of stark, chill +fear.</p> + +<p>"Won't it be wonderful?" said +the little old lady.</p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>IV</h2> + + +<p>"You're <i>where</i>?" Andrew J. Burris +said.</p> + +<p>Malone looked at the surprised +face on the screen and wished he +hadn't called. He had to report in, +of course—but, if he'd had any +sense, he'd have ordered Boyd to do +the job for him.</p> + +<p>Oh, well, it was too late for that +now. "I'm in Las Vegas," he said. "I +tried to get you last night, but I +couldn't, so I—"</p> + +<p>"Las Vegas," Burris said. "Well, +well. Las Vegas." His face darkened +and his voice became very loud. +"Why aren't you in Yucca Flats?" +he screamed.</p> + +<p>"Because she insisted on it," Malone +said. "The old lady. Miss +Thompson. She says there's another +telepath here."</p> + +<p>Burris closed his eyes. "Well, +that's a relief," he said at last. +"Somebody in one of the gambling +houses, I suppose. Fine, Malone." +He went right on without a pause: +"The boys have uncovered two more +in various parts of the nation. Not +one of them is even close to sane." +He opened his eyes. "Where's this +one?" he said.</p> + +<p>Malone sighed. "In the looney +bin," he said.</p> + +<p>Burris' eyes closed again. Malone +waited in silence. At last Burris +said: "All right. Get him out."</p> + +<p>"Right," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," Burris said. "Why did +Miss Thompson insist that you go to +Las Vegas? Somebody else could +have done the job. You could have +sent Boyd, couldn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Chief," Malone said slowly, +"what sort of mental condition are +those other telepaths in?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty bad," Burris said. "As a +matter of fact, very bad. Miss +Thompson may be off her trolley, +but the others haven't even got any +tracks." He paused. "What's that got +to do with it?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "I figured +we'd better handle Miss Thompson +with kid gloves—at least until we +find a better telepath to work with." +He didn't mention Barbara Wilson. +The chief, he told himself, didn't +want to be bothered with details.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 325px; margin-bottom: 0;"> +<img src="images/006-1.png" style="display: block;" width="325" height="280" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 155px; margin-top: 0;"> +<img src="images/006-2.png" style="display: block;" width="155" height="220" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p>"Doggone right you'd better," +Burris said. "You treat that old lady +as if she were the Queen herself, understand?"</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," Malone said unhappily. +"We are." He hesitated. +"She says she'll help us find our spy, +all right, but we've got to do it her +way—or else she won't co-operate."</p> + +<p>"Do it her way, then," Burris +said. "That spy—"</p> + +<p>"Chief, are you sure?"</p> + +<p>Burris blinked. "Well, then," he +said, "what <i>is</i> her way?"</p> + +<p>Malone took a deep breath. +"First," he said, "we had to come +here and pick this guy up. This William +Logan, who's in a private sanitarium +just outside of Las Vegas. +That's number one. Miss Thompson +wants to get all the telepaths together, +so they can hold mental conversations +or something."</p> + +<p>"And all of them batty," Burris +said.</p> + +<p>"Sure," Malone said. "A convention +of nuts—and me in the middle. +Listen, chief—"</p> + +<p>"Later," Burris said. "When this +is over we can all resign, or go fishing, +or just plain shoot ourselves. +But right now the national security +is primary, Malone. Remember +that."</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Malone sighed. "O.K. +But she wants all the nuts here."</p> + +<p>"Go along with her," Burris snapped. +"Keep her happy. So far, Malone, +she's the only lead we have on +the guy who's swiping information +from Yucca Flats. If she wants something, +Malone, you do it."</p> + +<p>"But, chief—"</p> + +<p>"Don't interrupt me," Burris said. +"If she wants to be treated like a +queen, you treat her like one. Malone, +that's an order!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said sadly. +"But, chief, she wants us to buy her +some new clothes."</p> + +<p>Burris exploded: "Is that all? New +clothes? Get 'em. Put 'em on the expense +account. New clothes are a +drop in the bucket."</p> + +<p>"Well ... she thinks we need +new clothes, too."</p> + +<p>"Maybe you do," Burris said. +"Put the whole thing on the expense +account. You don't think I'm going +to quibble about a few dollars, do +you?"</p> + +<p>"Well—"</p> + +<p>"Get the clothes. Just don't bother +me with details like this. Handle the +job yourself, Malone—you're in +charge out there. And get to Yucca +Flats as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he +said.</p> + +<p>"All right, then," Burris said. +"Call me tomorrow. Meanwhile—good +luck, Malone. Chin up."</p> + +<p>Malone said: "Yes, sir," and +reached for the switch. But Burris' +voice stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Just one thing," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, chief?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>Burris frowned. "Don't spend any +more for the clothes than you have +to," he said.</p> + +<p>Malone nodded, and cut off.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the director's image had +vanished, he got up and went to the +window of the hotel room. Outside, +a huge sign told the world, and Malone, +that this was the Thunderbird-Hilton-Zeckendorf +Hotel, but Malone +ignored it. He didn't need a +sign; he knew where he was.</p> + +<p>In hot water, he thought. <i>That's</i> +where he was.</p> + +<p>Behind him, the door opened. Malone +turned as Boyd came in.</p> + +<p>"I found a costume shop, Ken," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Great," Malone said. "The chief +authorized it."</p> + +<p>"He did?" Boyd's round face fell +at the news.</p> + +<p>"He said to buy her whatever she +wants. He says to treat her like a +queen."</p> + +<p>"That," Boyd said, "we're doing +now."</p> + +<p>"I know it," Malone said. "I +know it altogether too well."</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, +"the costume shop doesn't do us +any good. They've only got cowboy +stuff and bullfighters' costumes and +Mexican stuff—you know, for their +Helldorado Week here."</p> + +<p>"You didn't give up, did you?" +Malone said.</p> + +<p>Boyd shook his head. "Of course +not," he said. "Ken, this is on the +expense account, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Expense account," Malone said. +"Sure it is."</p> + +<p>Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he +said. "Because I had the proprietor +phone her size in, to New York."</p> + +<p>"Better get two of 'em," Malone +said. "The chief said anything she +wanted, she was supposed to have."</p> + +<p>"I'll go back right away. I told +him we wanted the stuff on the afternoon +plane, so—"</p> + +<p>"And give him Bar ... Miss Wilson's +size, and yours, and mine. Tell +him to dig up something appropriate."</p> + +<p>"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly.</p> + +<p>"For us," Malone said grimly.</p> + +<p>Boyd set his jaw. "No," he said.</p> + +<p>"Listen, Tom," Malone said, "I +don't like this any better than you +do. But if I can't resign, you can't +either. Costumes for everybody."</p> + +<p>"But," Boyd said, and stopped. +After a second he went on: "Malone +... Ken ... FBI agents are supposed +to be inconspicuous, aren't +they?"</p> + +<p>Malone nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, how inconspicuous are we +going to be in this stuff?"</p> + +<p>"It's an idea," Malone said. "But +it isn't a very good one. Our first +job is to keep Miss Thompson happy. +And that means costumes. And +what's more," Malone added, "from +now on she's 'Your Majesty'. Got +that?"</p> + +<p>"Ken," Boyd said, "you've gone +nuts."</p> + +<p>Malone shook his head. "No, I +haven't," he said. "I just wish I had. +It would be a relief."</p> + +<p>"Me, too," Boyd said. He started +for the door and turned. "I wish I +could have stayed in San Francisco," +he said. "Why should she insist on +taking <i>me</i> along?"</p> + +<p>"The beard," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"<i>My</i> beard?" Boyd recoiled.</p> + +<p>"Right," Malone said. "She says +it reminds her of someone she +knows. Frankly, it reminds me of +someone, too. Only I don't know +who."</p> + +<p>Boyd gulped. "I'll shave it off," +he said, with the air of a man who +can do no more to propitiate the +Gods.</p> + +<p>"You will not," Malone said firmly. +"Touch but a hair of yon black +chin, and I'll peel off your entire +skin."</p> + +<p>Boyd winced.</p> + +<p>"Now," Malone said, "go back to +that costume shop and arrange +things. Here." He fished in his pockets, +came out with a crumpled slip +of paper and handed it to Boyd. +"That's a list of my clothing sizes. +Get another list from B ... Miss +Wilson." Boyd nodded. Malone +thought he detected a strange glint +in the other man's eye. "Don't +measure her yourself," he said. "Just +ask her."</p> + +<p>Boyd scratched his bearded chin +and nodded slowly. "All right, +Ken," he said. "But if we just don't +get anywhere, don't blame me."</p> + +<p>"If you get anywhere," Malone +said, "I'll snatch you baldheaded. +And I'll leave the beard."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean with Miss Wilson, +Ken," Boyd said. "I meant in general." +He left, with the air of a man +whose world has betrayed him. His +back looked, to Malone, like the back +of a man on his way to the scaffold +or guillotine.</p> + +<p>The door closed.</p> + +<p>Now, Malone thought, who does +that beard remind me of? Who do +I know who knows Miss Thompson?</p> + +<p>And what difference does it make?</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he told himself, +Boyd's beard was really an admirable +fact of nature. Ever since +beards had become popular again in +the mid-sixties, and FBI agents had +been permitted to wear them, Malone +had thought about growing one. +But, somehow, it didn't seem right.</p> + +<p>Now, looking at Boyd, he began +to think about the prospect again.</p> + +<p>He shrugged the notion away. +There were things to do.</p> + +<p>He picked up the phone and called +Information.</p> + +<p>"Can you give me," he said, "the +number of the Desert Edge Sanitarium?"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The crimson blob of the setting +sun was already painting the desert +sky with its customary purples and +oranges by the time the little caravan +arrived at the Desert Edge Sanitarium, +a square white building several +miles out of Las Vegas. Malone, in +the first car, wondered briefly about +the kind of patients they catered to? +People driven mad by vingt-et-un or +poker-dice? Neurotic chorus ponies? +Gambling czars with delusions of +non-persecution?</p> + +<p>Sitting in the front seat next to +Boyd, he watched the unhappy San +Francisco agent manipulating the +wheel. In the back seat, Queen Elizabeth +Thompson and Lady Barbara, +the nurse, were located, and Her +Majesty was chattering away like a +magpie.</p> + +<p>Malone eyed the rear-view mirror +to get a look at the car following +them and the two local FBI agents +in it. They were, he thought, unbelievably +lucky. He had to sit and listen +to the Royal Personage in the +back seat.</p> + +<p>"Of course, as soon as Parliament +convenes and recognizes me," she +was saying, "I shall confer personages +on all of you. Right now, the +best I can do is to knight you all, +and of course that's hardly enough. +But I think I shall make Sir Kenneth +the Duke of Columbia."</p> + +<p>Sir Kenneth, Malone realized, was +himself. He wondered how he'd like +being Duke of Columbia—and +wouldn't the President be surprised!</p> + +<p>"And Sir Thomas," the queen +continued, "will be the Duke of ... +what? Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Your Majesty?" Boyd said, +trying to sound both eager and +properly respectful.</p> + +<p>"What would you like to be Duke +of?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Boyd said after a second's +thought, "anything that pleases Your +Majesty." But, apparently, his +thoughts gave him away.</p> + +<p>"You're from upstate New +York?" the Queen said. "How very +nice. Then you must be made the +Duke of Poughkeepsie."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Your Majesty," Boyd +said. Malone thought he detected a +note of pride in the man's voice, and +shot a glance at Boyd, but the agent +was driving with a serene face and +an economy of motion.</p> + +<p><i>Duke of Poughkeepsie!</i> Malone +thought. <i>Hah!</i></p> + +<p>He leaned back and adjusted his +fur-trimmed coat. The plume that +fell from his cap kept tickling his +neck, and he brushed at it without +success.</p> + +<p>All four of the inhabitants of the +car were dressed in late Sixteenth +Century costumes, complete with +ruffs and velvet and lace filigree. Her +Majesty and Lady Barbara were +wearing the full skirts and small +skullcaps of the era—and on Barbara, +Malone thought privately, the +low-cut gowns didn't look at all disappointing—and +Sir Thomas and +Malone—Sir Kenneth, he thought +sourly—were clad in doublet, hose +and long coats with fur trim and +slashed sleeves. And all of them were +loaded down, weighted down, staggeringly, +with gems.</p> + +<p>Naturally, the gems were fake. +But then, Malone thought, the +Queen was mad. It all balanced out +in the end.</p> + +<p>As they approached the sanitarium, +Malone breathed a thankful +prayer that he'd called up to tell the +head physician how they'd all be +dressed. If he hadn't—</p> + +<p>He didn't want to think about +that.</p> + +<p>He didn't even want to pass it by +hurriedly on a dark night.</p> + +<p>The head physician, Dr. Frederic +Dowson, was waiting for them on +the steps of the building. He was a +tall, thin, cadaverous-looking man +with almost no hair and very deep-sunken +eyes. He had the kind of +face that a gushing female would +probably describe, Malone thought, +as "craggy," but it didn't look in the +least attractive to Malone. Instead, it +looked tough and forbidding.</p> + +<p>He didn't turn a hair as the magnificently +robed Boyd slid from the +front seat, opened the rear door, +doffed his plumed hat, and in one +low sweep made a great bow. "We +are here, Your Majesty," Boyd said.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty got out, clutching at +her voluminous skirts in a worried +manner, to keep from catching them +on the door jamb. "You know, Sir +Thomas," she said when she was +standing free of the car, "I think +we must be related."</p> + +<p>"Ah?" Boyd said worriedly.</p> + +<p>"I'm certain of it, in fact," Her +Majesty went on. "You look just exactly +like my poor father. Just exactly. +I dare say you come from one of +the sinister branches of the family. +Perhaps you are a half-brother of +mine—removed, of course."</p> + +<p>Malone grinned, and tried to hide +the expression. Boyd was looking +puzzled, then distantly angered. Nobody +had ever called him illegitimate +in just that way before.</p> + +<p>But Her Majesty was absolutely +right, Malone thought. The agent +had always reminded him of someone, +and now, at last, he knew exactly +who. The hair hadn't been +black, either, but red.</p> + +<p>Boyd was, in Elizabethan costume, +the deadest of dead ringers for +Henry VIII.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone went up the steps to +where Dr. Dowson was standing.</p> + +<p>"I'm Malone," he said, checking +a tendency to bow. "I called earlier +today. Is this William Logan of yours +ready to go? We can take him back +with us in the second car."</p> + +<p>Dr. Dowson compressed his lips +and looked worried. "Come in, Mr. +Malone," he said. He turned just as +the second carload of FBI agents +began emptying itself over the hospital +grounds.</p> + +<p>The entire procession filed into +the hospital office, the two local +agents bringing up the rear. Since +they were not a part of Her Majesty's +personal retinue, they had not +been required to wear court costumes. +In a way, Malone was beginning +to feel sorry for them. He himself +cut a nice figure in the outfit, +he thought—rather like Errol Flynn +in the old black-and-white print of +"The Prince and the Pauper."</p> + +<p>But there was no denying that the +procession looked strange. File +clerks and receptionists stopped their +work to gape at the four bedizened +walkers and their plainly dressed +satellites. Malone needed no telepathic +talent to tell what they were +thinking.</p> + +<p>"A whole roundup of nuts," they +were thinking. "And those two fellows +in the back must be bringing +them in—along with Dr. Dowson."</p> + +<p>Malone straightened his spine. +Really, he didn't see why Elizabethan +costumes had ever gone out of style. +Elizabeth was back, wasn't she—either +Elizabeth II, on the throne, or +Elizabeth I, right behind him. Either +way you looked at it—</p> + +<p>When they were all inside the +waiting room, Dr. Dowson said: +"Now, Mr. Malone, just what is all +this about?" He rubbed his long +hands together. "I fail to see the +humor of the situation."</p> + +<p>"Humor?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," Barbara Wilson began, +"let me explain. You see—"</p> + +<p>"These ridiculous costumes," Dr. +Dowson said, waving a hand at them. +"You may feel that poking fun at +insanity is humorous, Mr. Malone, +but let me tell you—"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't like that at all," Boyd +said.</p> + +<p>"And," Dr. Dowson continued in +a somewhat louder voice, "wanting +to take Mr. Logan away from us. Mr. +Logan is a very sick man, Mr. Malone. +He should be properly cared +for."</p> + +<p>"I promise we'll take good care of +him." Malone said earnestly. The +Elizabethan clothes were fine outdoors, +but in a heated room one had +a tendency to sweat.</p> + +<p>"I take leave to doubt that," Dr. +Dowson said, eying their costumes +pointedly.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wilson here," Malone volunteered, +"is a trained psychiatric +nurse."</p> + +<p>Barbara, in her gown, stepped +forward. "Dr. Dowson," she said, +"let me assure you that these costumes +have their purpose. We—"</p> + +<p>"Not only that," Malone said. +"There are a group of trained men +from St. Elizabeths Hospital in +Washington who are going to take +the best of care of him." He said +nothing whatever about Yucca Flats, +or about telepathy.</p> + +<p>Why spread around information +unnecessarily?</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand," Dr. +Dowson said. "What interest could +the FBI have in an insane man?"</p> + +<p>"That's none of your business," +Malone said. He reached inside his +fur-trimmed robe and, again suppressing +a tendency to bow deeply, +withdrew an impressive-looking legal +document. "This," he said, "is a +court order, instructing you to hand +over to us the person of one William +Logan, herein identified and described." +He waved it at the doctor. +"That's your William Logan," he +said, "only now he's ours."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Dr. Dowson took the papers and +put in some time frowning at them. +Then he looked up again at Malone. +"I assume that I have some discretion +in this matter," he said. "And +I wonder if you realize just how ill +Mr. Logan is? We have his case histories +here, and we have worked +with him for some time."</p> + +<p>Barbara Wilson said: "But—"</p> + +<p>"I might say that we are beginning +to understand his illness," Dr. Dowson +said. "I honestly don't think it +would be proper to transfer this work +to another group of therapists. It +might set his illness back—cause, as +it were, a relapse. All our work +could easily be nullified."</p> + +<p>"Please, doctor," Barbara Wilson +began.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid the court order's got +to stand," Malone said. Privately, he +felt sorry for Dr. Dowson, who was, +obviously enough, a conscientious +man trying to do the best he could +for his patient. But—</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Dr. Dowson," he said. +"We'll expect you to send all of your +data to the government psychiatrists—and, +naturally, any concern for the +patient's welfare will be our concern +also. The FBI isn't anxious for its +workers to get the reputation of careless +men." He paused, wondering +what other bone he could throw the +man. "I have no doubt that the St. +Elizabeths men will be happy to accept +your co-operation," he said at +last. "But, I'm afraid that our duty +is clear. William Logan goes with +us."</p> + +<p>Dr. Dowson looked at them sourly. +"Does he have to get dressed up +like a masquerade, too?" Before Malone +could answer, the psychiatrist +added: "Anyhow, I don't even know +you're FBI men. After all, why +should I comply with orders from a +group of men, dressed insanely, +whom I don't even know?"</p> + +<p>Malone didn't say anything. He +just got up and walked to a phone +on a small table, near the wall. Next +to it was a door, and Malone wondered +uncomfortably what was behind it. +Maybe Dr. Dowson had a +small arsenal there, to protect his +patients and prevent people from +pirating them.</p> + +<p>He looked back at the set and +dialed Burris' private number in +Washington. When the director's +face appeared on the screen, Malone +said: "Mr. Burris, will you please +identify me to Dr. Dowson?" He +looked over at Dowson. "You recognize +Mr. Andrew J. Burris, I suppose?" +he said.</p> + +<p>Dowson nodded. His grim face +showed a faint shock. He walked to +the phone, and Malone stepped back +to let him talk with Burris.</p> + +<p>"My name is Dowson," he said. +"I'm psychiatric director here at +Desert Edge Sanitarium. And your +men—"</p> + +<p>"My men have orders to take a +William Logan from your care," +Burris said.</p> + +<p>"That's right," Dowson said. +"But—"</p> + +<p>While they were talking, Queen +Elizabeth I sidled quietly up to Malone +and tapped him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Sir Kenneth," she whispered in +the faintest of voices, "I know where +your telepathic spy is. And I know +<i>who</i> he is."</p> + +<p>"Who?" Malone said. "What? +Why? Where?" He blinked and +whirled. It couldn't be true. They +couldn't solve the case so easily.</p> + +<p>But the Queen's face was full of +a majestic assurance. "He's right +there," she said, and she pointed.</p> + +<p>Malone followed her finger.</p> + +<p>It was aimed directly at the glowing +image of Andrew J. Burris, Director +of the FBI.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/007.png" width="600" height="419" alt="" title="" /> +"Not legally responsible, of course...."</div> + + + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>V</h2> + + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45px; margin: 0 .3em .2em 0;"> +<img src="images/012.png" style="border: 1px solid black;" width="45" height="45" alt="M" title="M" /> +</div><p><span class="dcap">alone</span> opened his +mouth, but nothing +came out. Not even air.</p> + +<p>He wasn't breathing.</p> + +<p>He stared at Burris +for a long moment, then took a +breath and looked again at Her Majesty. +"The spy?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"That's right," she said.</p> + +<p>"But that's—" He had to fight for +control. "That's the head of the FBI," +he managed to say. "Do you mean to +say he's a spy?"</p> + +<p>Burris was saying: "... I'm afraid +this is a matter of importance, Dr. +Dowson. We cannot tolerate delay. +You have the court order. Obey it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. Burris," Dowson +said with an obvious lack of grace. +"I'll release him to Mr. Malone immediately, +since you insist."</p> + +<p>Malone stared, fascinated. Then he +turned back to the little old lady. "Do +you mean to tell me," he said, "that +Andrew J. Burris is a telepathic spy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me," Her Majesty said, +obviously aghast. "My goodness gracious. +Is that Mr. Burris on the +screen?"</p> + +<p>"It is," Malone assured her. A look +out of the corner of his eye told him +that neither Burris, in Washington, +nor Dowson or any others in the +room, had heard any of the conversation. +Malone lowered his whisper +some more, just in case. "That's the +head of the FBI," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Her Majesty said, +"Mr. Burris couldn't possibly be a +spy, then, could he? Not if he's the +head of the FBI. Of course not. Mr. +Burris simply isn't a spy. He isn't the +type. Forget all about Mr. Burris."</p> + +<p>"I can't," Malone said at random. +"I work for him." He closed his eyes. +The room, he had discovered, was +spinning slightly. "Now," he said, +"you're sure he's not a spy?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I'm sure," she said, with +her most regal tones. "Do you doubt +the word of your sovereign?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Malone said. Truthfully, +he wasn't at all sure. Not at all. +But why tell that to the Queen?</p> + +<p>"Shame on you," she said. "You +shouldn't even think such things. +After all, I am the Queen, aren't I?" +But there was a sweet, gentle smile +on her face when she spoke; she did +not seem to be really irritated.</p> + +<p>"Sure you are," Malone said. +"But—"</p> + +<p>"Malone!" It was Burris' voice, +from the phone. Malone spun around. +"Take Mr. Logan," Burris said, "and +get going. There's been enough delay +as it is."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Malone said. "Right +away, sir. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>"That's all," Burris said. "Good +night." The screen blanked.</p> + +<p>There was a little silence.</p> + +<p>"All right, doctor," Boyd said. He +looked every inch a king, and Malone +knew exactly what king. "Bring him +out."</p> + +<p>Dr. Dowson heaved a great sigh. +"Very well," he said heavily. "But I +want it known that I resent this high-handed +treatment, and I shall write a +letter complaining of it." He pressed +a button on an instrument panel in +his desk. "Bring Mr. Logan in," he +said.</p> + +<p>Malone wasn't in the least worried +about the letter. Burris, he knew, +would take care of anything like that. +And, besides, he had other things to +think about.</p> + +<p>The door to the next room had +opened almost immediately, and two +husky, white-clad men were bringing +in a strait-jacketed figure whose arms +were wrapped against his chest, while +the jacket's extra-long sleeves were +tied behind his back. He walked +where the attendants led him, but his +eyes weren't looking at anything in +the room. They stared at something +far away and invisible, an impalpable +shifting nothingness somewhere in the +infinite distances beyond the world.</p> + +<p>For the first time, Malone felt the +chill of panic. Here, he thought, was +insanity of a very real and frightening +kind. Queen Elizabeth Thompson +was one thing—and she was almost +funny, and likable, after all. But William +Logan was something else, and +something that sent a wave of cold +shivering into the room.</p> + +<p>What made it worse was that Logan +wasn't a man, but a boy, barely nineteen. +Malone had known that, of +course—but seeing it was something +different. The lanky, awkward figure +wrapped in a hospital strait jacket was +horrible, and the smooth, unconcerned +face was, somehow, worse. There was +no threat in that face, no terror or +anger or fear. It was merely—a blank.</p> + +<p>It was not a human face. Its complete +lack of emotion or expression +could have belonged to a sleeping +child of ten—or to a member of a +different race. Malone looked at the +boy, and looked away.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that Logan knew +what he was thinking?</p> + +<p><i>Answer me</i>, he thought, directly at +the still boy.</p> + +<p>There was no reply, none at all. +Malone forced himself to look away. +But the air in the room seemed to have +become much colder.</p> + +<p>The attendants stood on either side +of him, waiting. For one long second +no one moved, and then Dr. Dowson +reached into his desk drawer and produced +a sheaf of papers.</p> + +<p>"If you'll sign these for the government," +he said, "you may have Mr. +Logan. There seems little else that I +can do, Mr. Malone—in spite of my +earnest pleas—"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," Malone said. After +all, he <i>needed</i> Logan, didn't he? After +a look at the boy, he wasn't sure any +more—but the Queen had said she +wanted him, and the Queen's word +was law. Or what passed for law, anyhow, +at least for the moment.</p> + +<p>Malone took the papers and looked +them over. There was nothing special +about them; they were merely standard +release forms, absolving the staff +and management of Desert Edge Sanitarium +from every conceivable responsibility +under any conceivable circumstances, +as far as William Logan was +concerned. Dr. Dowson gave Malone +a look that said: "Very well, Mr. Malone; +I will play Pilate and wash my +hands of the matter—but you needn't +think I like it." It was a lot for one +look to say, but Dr. Dowson's dark +and sunken eyes got the message +across with no loss in transmission. +As a matter of fact, there seemed to +be more coming—a much less printable +message was apparently on the +way through those glittering, sad and +angry eyes.</p> + +<p>Malone avoided them nervously, +and went over the papers again instead. +At last he signed them and +handed them back. "Thanks for your +co-operation, Dr. Dowson," he said +briskly, feeling ten kinds of a traitor.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," Dowson said bitterly. +"Mr. Logan is now in your custody. +I must trust you to take good care of +him."</p> + +<p>"The best care we can," Malone +said. It didn't seem sufficient. He +added: "The best possible care, doctor," +and tried to look dependable +and trustworthy, like a Boy Scout. He +was aware that the effort failed miserably.</p> + +<p>At his signal, the two plainclothes +FBI men took over from the attendants. +They marched Logan out to their +car, and Malone led the procession +back to Boyd's automobile, a procession +that consisted—in order—of Sir +Kenneth Malone, prospective Duke of +Columbia, Queen Elizabeth I, Lady +Barbara, prospective Duchess of an +unspecified county, and Sir Thomas +Boyd, prospective Duke of Poughkeepsie. +Malone hummed a little of +"Pomp and Circumstance" as they +walked; somehow, he thought it was +called for.</p> + +<p>They piled into the car, Boyd at +the wheel with Malone next to him, +and the two ladies in back, with +Queen Elizabeth sitting directly behind +Sir Thomas. Boyd started the +engine and they turned and roared +off.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Her Majesty with an +air of great complacence, "that's that. +That makes six of us."</p> + +<p>Malone looked around the car. He +counted the people. There were four. +He said, puzzled: "Six?"</p> + +<p>"That's right, Sir Kenneth," Her +Majesty said. "You have it exactly. +Six."</p> + +<p>"You mean six telepaths?" Sir +Thomas asked in a deferent tone of +voice.</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do," Her Majesty replied. +"We telepaths, you know, must +stick together. That's the reason I got +poor little Willie out of that sanitarium +of his, you know—and, of +course, the others will be joining us."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think it's time for your +nap, dear?" Lady Barbara put in suddenly.</p> + +<p>"My <i>what</i>?" It was obvious that +Queen Elizabeth was Not Amused.</p> + +<p>"Your nap, dear," Lady Barbara +said.</p> + +<p>"Don't call me 'dear,'" Her Majesty +snapped.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Barbara +murmured. "But really—"</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," Her Majesty said, +"I am not a child. I am your sovereign. +Do try to have a little respect. +Why, I remember when Shakespeare +used to say to me—but that's no matter, +not now."</p> + +<p>"About those telepaths—" Boyd +began.</p> + +<p>"Telepaths," Her Majesty said. +"Ah, yes. We must all stick together. +In the hospital, you know, we had a +little joke—the patients for Insulin +Shock Therapy used to say: 'If we +don't stick together, we'll all be stuck +separately.' Do you see, Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>"But," Sir Kenneth Malone said, +trying desperately to return to the +point. "<i>Six?</i>" He had counted them +up in his mind. Burris had mentioned +one found in St. Elizabeths, and two +more picked up later. With Queen +Elizabeth, and now William Logan, +that made five.</p> + +<p>Unless the Queen was counting +him in. There didn't seem any good +reason why not.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Her Majesty said with +a little trill of laughter, "not you, +Sir Kenneth. I meant Mr. Miles."</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Boyd asked: "Mr. +Miles?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," Her Majesty said. +"His name is Barry Miles, and your +FBI men found him an hour ago in +New Orleans. They're bringing him +to Yucca Flats to meet the rest of us; +isn't that nice?"</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara cleared her throat.</p> + +<p>"It really isn't necessary for you to +try to get my attention, dear," the +Queen said. "After all, I do know +what you're thinking."</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara blinked. "I still want +to suggest, respectfully, about that +nap—" she began.</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," the Queen said, +with the faintest trace of impatience, +"I do not feel the least bit tired, and +this is such an exciting day that I just +don't want to miss any of it. Besides, +I've already told you I don't want a +nap. It isn't polite to be insistent to +your Queen—no matter how strongly +you feel about a matter. I'm sure +you'll learn to understand that, dear."</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara opened her mouth, +shut it again, and opened it once more. +"My goodness," she said.</p> + +<p>"That's the idea," Her Majesty +said approvingly. "Think before you +speak—and then don't speak. It really +isn't necessary, since I know what +you're thinking."</p> + +<p>Malone said grimly: "About this +new telepath ... this Barry Miles. Did +they find him—"</p> + +<p>"In a nut-house?" Her Majesty said +sweetly. "Why, of course, Sir Kenneth. +You were quite right when you +thought that telepaths went insane +because they had a sense they couldn't +effectively use, and because no one +believed them. How would you feel, +if nobody believed you could see?"</p> + +<p>"Strange," Malone admitted.</p> + +<p>"There," Her Majesty said. "You +see? Telepaths do go insane—it's sort +of an occupational disease. Of course, +not all of them are insane."</p> + +<p>"Not all of them?" Malone felt +the faint stirrings of hope. Perhaps +they would turn up a telepath yet +who was completely sane and rational.</p> + +<p>"There's me, of course," Her Majesty +said.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara gulped audibly. Boyd +said nothing, but gripped the wheel +of the car more tightly.</p> + +<p>And Malone thought to himself: +<i>That's right. There's Queen Elizabeth—who +says she isn't crazy.</i></p> + +<p>And then he thought of one more +sane telepath. But the knowledge did +not make him feel any better.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, the spy.</p> + +<p>How many more are going to turn +up? Malone wondered.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's about all of us," the +Queen said. "There is one more, but +she's in a hospital in Honolulu, and +your men won't find her until tomorrow."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 455px;"> +<img src="images/008.png" width="455" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +Sir Thomas Boyd ... looking majestic.</div> + + + +<p>Boyd turned. "Do you mean you +can foretell the future, too?" he asked +in a strained voice.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara screamed: "Keep +your eyes on the wheel and your +hands on the road!"</p> + +<p>"What?" Boyd said.</p> + +<p>There was a terrific blast of noise, +and a truck went by in the opposite +direction. The driver, a big, ugly man +with no hair on his head, leaned out +to curse at the quartet, but his mouth +remained open. He stared at the four +Elizabethans and said nothing at all as +he whizzed by.</p> + +<p>"What was that?" Boyd asked +faintly.</p> + +<p>"That," Malone snapped, "was a +truck. And it was due entirely to the +mercy of God that we didn't hit it. +Barbara's right. Keep your eyes on the +wheel and your hands on the road." +He paused and thought that over. +Then he said: "Does that mean anything +at all?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Barbara was confused by the +excitement," the Queen said calmly. +"It's all right now, dear."</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara blinked across the +seat. "I was—afraid," she said.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," the Queen said. +"I'll take care of you."</p> + +<p>"This," Malone announced to no +one in particular, "is ridiculous."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Boyd swept the car around a curve +and concentrated grimly on the road. +After a second the Queen said: "Since +you're still thinking about the question, +I'll answer you."</p> + +<p>"What question?" Malone said, +thoroughly baffled.</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas asked me if I could +foretell the future," the Queen said +equably. "Of course I can't. That's +silly. Just because I'm immortal and +I'm a telepath, don't go hog-wild."</p> + +<p>"Then how did you know the FBI +agents were going to find the girl in +Honolulu tomorrow?" Boyd said.</p> + +<p>"Because," the Queen said, "they're +thinking about looking in the hospital +tomorrow, and when they look they'll +certainly find her."</p> + +<p>Boyd said: "Oh," and was silent.</p> + +<p>But Malone had a grim question. +"Why didn't you tell me about these +other telepaths before?" he said. +"You could have saved us a lot of +work."</p> + +<p>"Oh, heavens to Betsy, Sir Kenneth," +Her Majesty exclaimed. "How +could I? After all, the proper precautions +had to be taken first, didn't +they? I told you all the others were +crazy—<i>really</i> crazy, I mean. And they +just wouldn't be safe without the +proper precautions."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you ought to go back to +the hospital, too," Barbara said, and +added: "Your Majesty," just in time.</p> + +<p>"But if I did, dear," Her Majesty +said, "you'd lose your chance to become +a Duchess, and that wouldn't +be at all nice. Besides, I'm having so +much <i>fun</i>!" She trilled a laugh again. +"Riding around like this is just wonderful!" +she said.</p> + +<p><i>And you're important for national +security</i>, Malone said to himself.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Sir Kenneth," the +Queen said. "The country needs me, +and I'm happy to serve. That is the +job of a sovereign."</p> + +<p>"Fine," Malone said, hoping it was.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," said Her Majesty, +"that settles that. We have a whole +night ahead of us, Sir Kenneth. What +do you say we make a night <i>of</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"Knight who?" Malone said. He +felt confused again. It seemed as if +he was always feeling confused lately.</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly, Sir Kenneth," Her +Majesty said. "There are times and +times."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Malone said at random. +<i>And time and a half</i>, he thought. <i>Possibly +for overtime.</i> "What is Your +Majesty thinking of?" he asked with +trepidation.</p> + +<p>"I want to take a tour of Las +Vegas," Her Majesty said primly.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara shook her head. "I'm +afraid that's not possible, Your Majesty," +she said.</p> + +<p>"And why not, pray?" Her Majesty +said. "No. I can see what you're +thinking. It's not safe to let me go +wandering around in a strange city, +and particularly if that city is Las +Vegas. Well, dear, I can assure you +that it's perfectly safe."</p> + +<p>"We've got work to do," Boyd +contributed.</p> + +<p>Malone said nothing. He stared +bleakly at the hood ornament on the +car.</p> + +<p>"I have made my wishes known," +the Queen said.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara said: "But—"</p> + +<p>Boyd, however, knew when to give +in. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said.</p> + +<p>She smiled graciously at him, and +answered Lady Barbara only by a +slight lift of her regal eyebrow.</p> + +<p>Malone had been thinking about +something else. When he was sure he +had a firm grip on himself he turned. +"Your Majesty, tell me something," +he said. "You can read my mind, +right?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, Sir Kenneth," +Her Majesty said. "I thought I'd +proved that to you. And, as for what +you're about to ask—"</p> + +<p>"No," Malone said. "Please. Let +me ask the questions before you answer +them. It's less confusing that +way. I'll cheerfully admit that it +shouldn't be—but it is. Please?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Sir Kenneth, if you +wish," the Queen said. She folded her +hands in her lap and waited quietly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"O.K.," Malone said. "Now, if you +can read my mind, then you must +know that I don't <i>really</i> believe that +you are Queen Elizabeth of England. +The First, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Malone," Barbara Wilson +said suddenly. "I—"</p> + +<p>"It's all right, child," the Queen +said. "He doesn't disturb me. And I +do wish you'd call him Sir Kenneth. +That's his title, you know."</p> + +<p>"Now that's what I mean," Malone +said. "Why do you want us to <i>act</i> as +if we believe you, when you know +we don't?"</p> + +<p>"Because that's the way people do +act," the Queen said calmly. "Very +few people really believe that their +so-called superiors <i>are</i> superior. Almost +none of them do, in fact."</p> + +<p>"Now wait a minute," Boyd began.</p> + +<p>"No, no, it's quite true," the Queen +said, "and, unpleasant as it may be, +we must learn to face the truth. That's +the path of sanity." Lady Barbara +made a strangled noise but Her Majesty +continued, unruffled. "Nearly +everybody suffers from the silly delusion +that he's possibly equal to, but +very probably superior to, everybody +else ... my goodness, where would +we be if that were true?"</p> + +<p>Malone felt that a comment was +called for, and he made one. "Who +knows?" he said.</p> + +<p>"All the things people do toward +their superiors," the Queen said, "are +done for social reasons. For instance, +Sir Kenneth: you don't realize fully +how you feel about Mr. Burris."</p> + +<p>"He's a nice guy," Malone said. "I +work for him. He's a good Director +of the FBI."</p> + +<p>"Of course," the Queen said. "But +you believe you could do the job just +as well, or perhaps a little better."</p> + +<p>"I do not," Malone said angrily.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty reserved a dignified +silence.</p> + +<p>After a while Malone said: "And +what if I do?"</p> + +<p>"Why, nothing," Her Majesty +said. "You don't think Mr. Burris is +any smarter or better than you are—but +you treat him as if you did. All +I am insisting on is the same treatment."</p> + +<p>"But if we don't believe—" Boyd +began.</p> + +<p>"Bless you," Her Majesty said, "I +can't help the way you <i>think</i>, but, as +Queen, I do have some control over +the way you <i>act</i>."</p> + +<p>Malone thought it over. "You have +a point there," he said at last.</p> + +<p>Barbara said: "But—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sir Kenneth," the Queen +said, "I do." She seemed to be ignoring +Lady Barbara. Perhaps, Malone +thought, she was still angry over the +nap affair. "It's not that," the Queen +said.</p> + +<p>"Not what?" Boyd said, thoroughly +confused.</p> + +<p>"Not the naps," the Queen said.</p> + +<p>"What naps?" Boyd said.</p> + +<p>Malone said: "I was thinking—"</p> + +<p>"Good," Boyd said. "Keep it up. +I'm driving. Everything's going to hell +around me, but I'm driving."</p> + +<p>A red light appeared ahead. Boyd +jammed on the brakes with somewhat +more than the necessary force, and +Malone was thrown forward with a +grunt. Behind him there were two +ladylike squeals.</p> + +<p>Malone struggled upright. "Barbara?" +he called. "Are you all +right—" Then he remembered the +Queen.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," Her Majesty said. +"I can understand your concern for +Lady Barbara." She smiled at Malone +as he turned.</p> + +<p>Malone gaped at her. Of course she +knew what he thought about Barbara; +she'd been reading his mind. And, apparently, +she was on his side. That +was good, even though it made him +slightly nervous to think about.</p> + +<p>"Now," the Queen said suddenly, +"what about tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," the Queen said. +She smiled, and put up a hand to pat +at her white hair under the Elizabethan +skullcap. "I think I should +like to go to the Palace," she said. +"After all, isn't that where a Queen +should be?"</p> + +<p>Boyd said, in a kind of explosion: +"London? England?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear me—" the Queen began, +and Barbara said:</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that I simply can't allow +anything like that. Overseas—"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean overseas, dear," Her +Majesty said. "Sir Kenneth, please +explain to these people."</p> + +<p>The Palace, Malone knew, was +more properly known as the Golden +Palace. It was right in Las Vegas—convenient +to all sources of money. +As a matter of fact, it was one of the +biggest gambling houses along the +Las Vegas strip, a veritable chaos of +wheels, cards, dice, chips and other +such devices. Malone explained all +this to the others, wondering meanwhile +why Miss Thompson wanted to +go there.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> Miss Thompson, <i>please</i>, Sir +Kenneth," Her Majesty said.</p> + +<p>"Not Miss Thompson what?" +Boyd said. "What's going on anyhow?"</p> + +<p>"She's reading my mind," Malone +said.</p> + +<p>"Well, then," Boyd snapped, "tell +her to keep it to herself." The car +started up again with a roar and Malone +and the others were thrown +around again, this time toward the +back. There was a chorus of groans +and squeals, and they were on their +way once more.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"To reply to your question, Sir +Kenneth," the Queen said.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara said, with some composure: +"What question ... Your +Majesty?"</p> + +<p>The Queen nodded regally at her. +"Sir Kenneth was wondering why I +wished to go to the Golden Palace," +she said. "And my reply is this: it is +none of your business why I want to +go there. After all, is my word law, +or isn't it?"</p> + +<p>There didn't seem to be a good +enough answer to that, Malone +thought sadly. He kept quiet and was +relieved to note that the others did +the same. However, after a second he +thought of something else.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," he began carefully, +"we've got to go to Yucca Flats +tomorrow. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the Queen said. "My +memory is quite good, thank you. But +that is tomorrow morning. We have +the rest of the night left. It's only a +little after nine, you know."</p> + +<p>"Heavens," Barbara said. "Is it that +late?"</p> + +<p>"It's even later," Boyd said sourly. +"It's much later than you think."</p> + +<p>"And it's getting later all the time," +Malone added. "Pretty soon the sun +will go out and all life on earth will +end. Won't that be nice and peaceful?"</p> + +<p>"I'm looking forward to it," Boyd +said.</p> + +<p>"I'm not," Barbara said. "But I've +got to get some sleep tonight, if I'm +going to be any good at all tomorrow."</p> + +<p><i>You're pretty good right now</i>, +Malone thought, but he didn't say a +word. He felt the Queen's eye on him +but didn't turn around. After all, she +was on his side—wasn't she?</p> + +<p>At any rate, she didn't say anything.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be best," Barbara +said, "if you and I ... Your +Majesty ... just went home and +rested up. Some other time, then, +when there's nothing vital to do, we +could—"</p> + +<p>"No," the Queen said. "We +couldn't. Really, Lady Barbara, how +often will I have to remind you of +the duties you owe your sovereign—not +the least of which is obedience, +as dear old Ben used to say."</p> + +<p>"Ben?" Malone said, and immediately +wished he hadn't.</p> + +<p>"Jonson, dear boy," the Queen +said. "Really a remarkable man—and +such a good friend to poor Will. +Why, did you ever hear the story of +how he actually paid Will's rent in +London once upon a time? That was +while Will and that Anne of his were +having one of their arguments, of +course. I didn't tell you that story, +did I?"</p> + +<p>"No," Malone said truthfully, but +his voice was full of foreboding. "If +I might remind Your Majesty of the +subject," he added tentatively, "I +should like to say—"</p> + +<p>"Remind me of the subject!" the +Queen said, obviously delighted. +"What a lovely pun! And how much +better because purely unconscious! +My, my, Sir Kenneth, I never suspected +you of a pointed sense of humor—could +you be a descendant of Sir +Richard Greene, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt it," Malone said. "My ancestors +were all poor but Irish." He +paused. "Or, if you prefer, Irish but +poor." Another pause, and then he +added: "If that means anything at +all. Which I doubt."</p> + +<p>"In any case," the Queen said, her +eyes twinkling, "you were about to +enter a new objection to our little +visit to the Palace, were you not?"</p> + +<p>Malone admitted as much. "I really +think that—"</p> + +<p>Her eyes grew suddenly cold. "If +I hear any more objections, Sir Kenneth, +I shall not only rescind your +knighthood and—when I regain my +rightful kingdom—deny you your +dukedom, but I shall refuse to co-operate +any further in the business of +Project Isle."</p> + +<p>Malone turned cold. His face, he +knew without glancing in the mirror, +was white and pale. He thought of +what Burris would do to him if he +didn't follow through on his assigned +job.</p> + +<p>Even if he wasn't as good as Burris +thought he was, he really liked being +an FBI agent. He didn't want to be +fired.</p> + +<p>And Burris had said: "<i>Give her +anything she wants.</i>"</p> + +<p>He gulped and tried to make his +face look normal. "All right," he +said. "Fine. We'll go to the Palace."</p> + +<p>He tried to ignore the pall of apprehension +that fell over the car.</p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>VI</h2> + + +<p>The management of the Golden +Palace had been in business for many +long, dreary, profitable years, and +each member of the staff thought he +or she had seen just about everything +there was to be seen. And those that +were new felt an obligation to <i>look</i> +as if they'd seen everything.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when the entourage of +Queen Elizabeth I strolled into the +main salon, not a single eye was batted. +Not a single gasp was heard.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the staff kept a discreet +eye on the crew. Drunks, rich +men or Arabian millionaires were all +familiar. But a group out of the Sixteenth +Century was something else +again.</p> + +<p>Malone almost strutted, conscious +of the sidelong glances the group was +drawing. But it was obvious that Sir +Thomas was the major attraction. +Even if you could accept the idea of +people in strange costumes, the sight +of a living, breathing absolute duplicate +of King Henry VIII was a little +too much to take. It has been reported +that two ladies named Jane, and one +named Catherine, came down with +sudden headaches and left the salon +within five minutes of the group's +arrival.</p> + +<p>Malone felt he knew, however, why +he wasn't drawing his full share of attention. +He felt a little out of place. +The costume was one thing, and, to +tell the truth, he was beginning to enjoy +it. Even with the weight of the +stuff, it was going to be a wrench to +go back to single-breasted suits and +plain white shirts. But he did feel that +he should have been carrying a sword.</p> + +<p>Instead, he had a .44 Magnum Colt +snuggled beneath his left armpit.</p> + +<p>Somehow, a .44 Magnum Colt +didn't seem as romantic as a sword. +Malone pictured himself saying: +"Take that, varlet." Was varlet what +you called them? he wondered. Maybe +it was valet.</p> + +<p>"Take that, valet," he muttered. +No, that sounded even worse. Oh, +well, he could look it up later.</p> + +<p>The truth was that he had been +born in the wrong century. He could +imagine himself at the Mermaid Tavern, +hob-nobbing with Shakespeare +and all the rest of them. He wondered +if Sir Richard Greene would be there. +Then he wondered who Sir Richard +Greene was.</p> + +<p>Behind Sir Kenneth, Sir Thomas +Boyd strode, looking majestic, as if +he were about to fling purses of gold +to the citizenry. As a matter of fact, +Malone thought, he was. They all +were.</p> + +<p>Purses of good old United States +of America gold.</p> + +<p>Behind Sir Thomas came Queen +Elizabeth and her Lady-in-Waiting, +Lady Barbara Wilson. They made a +beautiful foursome.</p> + +<p>"The roulette table," Her Majesty +said with dignity. "Precede me."</p> + +<p>They pushed their way through the +crowd. Most of the customers were +either excited enough, drunk enough, +or both to see nothing in the least incongruous +about a Royal Family of the +Tudors invading the Golden Palace. +Very few of them, as a matter of fact, +seemed to notice the group.</p> + +<p>They were roulette players. They +noticed nothing but the table and the +wheel. Malone wondered what they +were thinking about, decided to ask +Queen Elizabeth, and then decided +against it. He felt it would make him +nervous to know.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty took a handful of +chips.</p> + +<p>The handful was worth, Malone +knew, exactly five thousand dollars. +That, he'd thought, ought to last them +an evening, even in the Golden Palace. +In the center of the strip, inside the +city limits of Las Vegas itself, the +five thousand would have lasted much +longer—but Her Majesty wanted the +Palace, and the Palace it was.</p> + +<p>Malone began to smile. Since he +couldn't avoid the evening, he was +determined to enjoy it. It was sort of +fun, in its way, indulging a sweet +harmless old lady. And there was +nothing they could do until the next +morning, anyhow.</p> + +<p>His indulgent smile faded very +suddenly.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty plunked the entire +handful of chips—<i>five thousand dollars!</i> +Malone thought dazedly—onto +the table. "Five thousand," she said +in clear, cool measured tones, "on +Number One."</p> + +<p>The croupier blinked only slightly. +He bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty," he +said.</p> + +<p>Malone was briefly thankful, in the +midst of his black horror, that he had +called the management and told them +that the Queen's plays were backed by +the United States Government. Her +Majesty was going to get unlimited +credit—and a good deal of awed and +somewhat puzzled respect.</p> + +<p>Malone watched the spin begin +with mixed feelings. There was five +thousand dollars riding on the little +ball. But, after all, Her Majesty was +a telepath. Did that mean anything?</p> + +<p>He hadn't decided by the time the +wheel stopped, and by then he didn't +have to decide.</p> + +<p>"Thirty-four," the croupier said +tonelessly. "Red, Even and High."</p> + +<p>He raked in the chips with a nonchalant +air.</p> + +<p>Malone felt as if he had swallowed +his stomach. Boyd and Lady Barbara, +standing nearby, had absolutely no +expressions on their faces. Malone +needed no telepath to tell him what +they were thinking.</p> + +<p>They were exactly the same as he +was. They were incapable of thought.</p> + +<p>But Her Majesty never batted an +eyelash. "Come, Sir Kenneth," she +said. "Let's go on to the poker tables."</p> + +<p>She swept out. Her entourage followed +her, shambling a little, and +blank-eyed. Malone was still thinking +about the five thousand dollars. Oh, +well, Burris had said to give the lady +anything she wanted. <i>But!</i> he thought. +<i>Did she have to play for royal stakes?</i></p> + +<p>"I am, after all, a Queen," she +whispered back to him.</p> + +<p>Malone thought about the National +Debt. He wondered if a million more +or less would make any real difference. +There would be questions asked in +committees about it. He tried to imagine +himself explaining the evening +to a group of congressmen. "Well, +you see, gentlemen, there was this +roulette wheel—"</p> + +<p>He gave it up.</p> + +<p>Then he wondered how much hotter +the water was going to get, and +he stopped thinking altogether in self-defense.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>In the next room, there were scattered +tables. At one, a poker game was +in full swing. Only five were playing; +one, by his white-tie-and-tails uniform, +was easily recognizable as a +house dealer. The other four were all +men, one of them in full cowboy +regalia. The Tudors descended upon +them with great suddenness, and the +house dealer looked up and almost +lost his cigarette.</p> + +<p>"We haven't any money, Your +Majesty," Malone whispered.</p> + +<p>She smiled up at him sweetly, and +then drew him aside. "If you were a +telepath," she said, "how would <i>you</i> +play poker?"</p> + +<p>Malone thought about that for a +minute, and then turned to look for +Boyd. But Sir Thomas didn't even +have to be given instructions. "Another +five hundred?" he said.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty sniffed audibly. "Another +five thousand," she said regally.</p> + +<p>Boyd looked Malone-wards. Malone +looked defeated.</p> + +<p>Boyd turned with a small sigh and +headed for the cashier's booth. Three +minutes later, he was back with a fat +fistful of chips.</p> + +<p>"Five grand?" Malone whispered +to him.</p> + +<p>"Ten," Boyd said. "I know when +to back a winner."</p> + +<p>Her Majesty went over to the table. +The dealer had regained control, but +looked up at them with a puzzled +stare.</p> + +<p>"You know," the Queen said, with +an obvious attempt to put the man +at his ease, "I've always wanted to +visit a gambling hall."</p> + +<p>"Sure, lady," the dealer said. "Naturally."</p> + +<p>"May I sit down?"</p> + +<p>The dealer looked at the group. +"How about your friends?" he said +cautiously.</p> + +<p>The Queen shook her head. "They +would rather watch, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>For once Malone blessed the woman's +telepathic talent. He, Boyd and +Barbara Wilson formed a kind of +Guard of Honor around the chair +which Her Majesty occupied. Boyd +handed over the new pile of chips, +and was favored with a royal smile.</p> + +<p>"This is a poker game, ma'am," the +dealer said to her, quietly.</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," Her Majesty +said with a trace of testiness. "Roll +'em."</p> + +<p>The dealer stared at her popeyed. +Next to her, the gentleman in the +cowboy outfit turned. "Ma'am, are you +from around these parts?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," the Queen said. "I'm +from England."</p> + +<p>"England?" The cowboy looked +puzzled. "You don't seem to have any +accent, ma'am," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," the Queen said. +"I've lost that; I've been over here +a great many years."</p> + +<p>Malone hoped fervently that Her +Majesty wouldn't mention just how +many years. He didn't think he could +stand it, and he was almost grateful +for the cowboy's nasal twang.</p> + +<p>"Oil?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Her Majesty said. "The +Government is providing this money."</p> + +<p>"The Government?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Her Majesty said. +"The FBI, you know."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence.</p> + +<p>At last, the dealer said: "Five-card +draw your game, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"If you please," Her Majesty said.</p> + +<p>The dealer shrugged and, apparently, +commended his soul to a gambler's +God. He passed the pasteboards +around the table with the air of one +who will have nothing more to do +with the world.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty picked up her hand.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 114px; margin-bottom: 0;"> +<img src="images/009-1.png" style="display: block;" width="114" height="119" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 332px; margin-top: 0;"> +<img src="images/009-2.png" style="display: block;" width="332" height="381" alt="" title="" /> +"May I raise ... five thousand?"</div> + + + +<p>"The ante's ten, ma'am," the dealer +said softly.</p> + +<p>Without looking, Her Majesty removed +a ten-dollar chip from the +pile before her and sent it spinning +to the middle of the table.</p> + +<p>The dealer opened his mouth, but +said nothing. Malone, meanwhile, was +peering over the Queen's shoulder.</p> + +<p>She held a pair of nines, a four, a +three and a Jack.</p> + +<p>The man to the left of the dealer +announced glumly: "Can't open."</p> + +<p>The next man grinned. "Open for +twenty," he said.</p> + +<p>Malone closed his eyes. He heard +the cowboy say: "I'm in," and he +opened his eyes again. The Queen +was pushing two ten-dollar chips toward +the center of the table.</p> + +<p>The next man dropped, and the +dealer looked round the table. "How +many?"</p> + +<p>The man who couldn't open took +three cards. The man who'd opened +for twenty stood pat. Malone shuddered +invisibly. That, he figured, +meant at least a straight. And Queen +Elizabeth Thompson was going in +against a straight or better with a +pair of nines, Jack high.</p> + +<p>For the first time, it was borne in +on Malone that being a telepath did +not necessarily mean that you were +a good poker player. Even if you +knew what every other person at the +table held, you could still make a +whole lot of stupid mistakes.</p> + +<p>He looked nervously at Queen +Elizabeth, but her face was serene. +Apparently she'd been following the +thoughts of the poker players, and not +concentrating on him at all. That was +a relief. He felt, for the first time in +days, as if he could think freely.</p> + +<p>The cowboy said: "Two," and took +them. It was Her Majesty's turn.</p> + +<p>"I'll take two," she said, and threw +away the three and four. It left her +with the nine of spades and the nine +of hearts, and the Jack of diamonds.</p> + +<p>These were joined, in a matter of +seconds, by two bright new cards: the +six of clubs and the three of hearts.</p> + +<p>Malone closed his eyes. Oh, well, +he thought.</p> + +<p>It was only thirty bucks down the +drain. Practically nothing.</p> + +<p>Of course Her Majesty dropped at +once; knowing what the other players +held, she knew she couldn't beat +them after the draw. But she did like +to take long chances, Malone thought +miserably. Imagine trying to fill a full +house on one pair!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Slowly, as the minutes passed, the +pile of chips before Her Majesty +dwindled. Once Malone saw her win +with two pair against a reckless man +trying to fill a straight on the other +side of the table. But whatever was +going on, Her Majesty's face was as +calm as if she were asleep.</p> + +<p>Malone's worked overtime. If the +Queen hadn't been losing so obviously, +the dealer might have mistaken +the play of naked emotion across his +visage for a series of particularly obvious +signals.</p> + +<p>An hour went by. Barbara left to +find a ladies' lounge where she could +sit down and try to relax. Fascinated +in a horrible sort of way, both Malone +and Boyd stood, rooted to the spot, +while hand after hand went by and +the ten thousand dollars dwindled to +half that, to a quarter, and even less—</p> + +<p>Her Majesty, it seemed, was a +mighty poor poker player.</p> + +<p>The ante had been raised by this +time. Her Majesty was losing one +hundred dollars a hand, even before +the betting began. But she showed +not the slightest indication to stop.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get up in the morning," +Malone announced to no one +in particular, when he thought he +couldn't possibly stand another half +hour of the game.</p> + +<p>"So we do," Her Majesty said with +a little regretful sigh. "Very well, +then. Just one more hand."</p> + +<p>"It's a shame to lose you," the cowboy +said to her, quite sincerely. He +had been winning steadily ever since +Her Majesty sat down, and Malone +thought that the man should, by this +time, be awfully grateful to the United +States Government. Somehow, he +doubted that this gratitude existed.</p> + +<p>Malone wondered if she should be +allowed to stay for one more hand. +There was, he estimated, about two +thousand dollars in front of her. Then +he wondered how he was going to +stop her.</p> + +<p>The cards were dealt.</p> + +<p>The first man said quietly: "Open +for two hundred."</p> + +<p>Malone looked at the Queen's +hand. It contained the Ace, King, +Queen and ten of clubs—and the +seven of spades.</p> + +<p><i>Oh, no</i>, he thought. <i>She couldn't +possibly be thinking of filling a flush.</i></p> + +<p>He knew perfectly well that she +was.</p> + +<p>The second man said: "And raise +two hundred."</p> + +<p>The Queen equably tossed—counting, +Malone thought, the ante—five +hundred into the pot.</p> + +<p>The cowboy muttered to himself +for a second, and finally shoved in his +money.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll raise it another five +hundred," the Queen said calmly.</p> + +<p>Malone wanted to die of shock. +Unfortunately, he remained alive and +watching. He was the last man, after +some debate internal, to shove a total +of one thousand dollars into the +pot.</p> + +<p>"Cards?" said the dealer.</p> + +<p>The first man said: "One."</p> + +<p>It was too much to hope for, Malone +thought. If that first man were +trying to fill a straight or a flush, maybe +he wouldn't make it. And maybe +something final would happen to all +the other players. But that was the +only way he could see for Her Majesty +to win.</p> + +<p>The card was dealt. The second +man stood pat and Malone's green +tinge became obvious to the veriest +dunce. The cowboy, on Her Majesty's +right, asked for a card, received it and +sat back without a trace of expression.</p> + +<p>The Queen said: "I'll try one for +size." She'd picked up poker lingo, +and the basic rules of the game, Malone +realized, from the other players—or +possibly from someone at the +hospital itself, years ago.</p> + +<p>He wished she'd picked up something +less dangerous instead, like a +love of big-game hunting, or stunt-flying.</p> + +<p>But no. It had to be poker.</p> + +<p>The Queen threw away her seven +of spades, showing more sense than +Malone had given her credit for at +any time during the game. She let the +other card fall and didn't look at it.</p> + +<p>She smiled up at Malone and Boyd. +"Live dangerously," she said gaily.</p> + +<p>Malone gave her a hollow laugh.</p> + +<p>The last man drew one card, too, +and the betting began.</p> + +<p>The Queen's remaining thousand +was gone before an eye could notice +it. She turned to Boyd.</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas," she said. "Another +five thousand, please. At once."</p> + +<p>Boyd said nothing at all, but +marched off. Malone noticed, however, +that his step was neither as +springy nor as confident as it had been +before. For himself, Malone was sure +that he could not walk at all.</p> + +<p>Maybe, he thought hopefully, the +floor would open up and swallow +them all. He tried to imagine explaining +the loss of twenty thousand dollars +to Burris and some congressmen, +and after that he watched the floor +narrowly, hoping for the smallest hint +of a crack in the palazzo marble.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"May I raise the whole five thousand?" +the Queen said.</p> + +<p>"It's O.K. with me," the dealer +said. "How about the rest of you?"</p> + +<p>The four grunts he got expressed a +suppressed eagerness. The Queen +took the new chips Boyd had brought +her and shoved them into the center +of the table with a fine, careless gesture +of her hand. She smiled gaily at +everybody. "Seeing me?" she said.</p> + +<p>Everybody was.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, it was this way," +Malone muttered to himself, rehearsing. +He half-thought that one of the +others would raise again, but no one +did. After all, each of them must be +convinced that he held a great hand, +and though raising had gone on +throughout the hand, each must now +be afraid of going the least little bit +too far and scaring the others out.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Congressman," Malone muttered, +"there's this game called poker. +You play it with cards and money. +Chiefly money."</p> + +<p>That wasn't any good.</p> + +<p>"You've been called," the dealer +said to the first man, who'd opened +the hand a year or so before.</p> + +<p>"Why, sure," the player said, and +laid down a pair of aces, a pair of +threes—and a four. One of the threes, +and the four, were clubs. That reduced +the already improbable chances +of the Queen's coming up with a +flush.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," said the second man, and +laid down a straight with a single +gesture. The straight was nine-high +and there were no clubs in it. Malone +felt devoutly thankful for that.</p> + +<p>The second man reached for the +money but, under the popeyed gaze +of the dealer, the fifth man laid down +another straight—this one ten-high. +The nine was a club. Malone felt the +odds go down, right in his own +stomach.</p> + +<p>And now the cowboy put down his +cards. The King of diamonds. The +King of hearts. The Jack of diamonds. +The Jack of spades. And—the Jack of +hearts.</p> + +<p>Full house. "Well," said the cowboy. +"I suppose that does it."</p> + +<p>The Queen said: "Please. One moment."</p> + +<p>The cowboy stopped halfway in his +reach for the enormous pile of chips. +The Queen laid down her four clubs—Ace, +King, Queen and ten—and for +the first time flipped over her fifth +card.</p> + +<p>It was the Jack of clubs.</p> + +<p>"My God," the cowboy said, and +it sounded like a prayer. "A royal +flush."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," the Queen said. +"What else?"</p> + +<p>Her Majesty calmly scooped up the +tremendous pile of chips. The cowboy's +hands fell away. Five mouths +were open around the table.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty stood up. She smiled +sweetly at the men around the table. +"Thank you very much, gentlemen," +she said. She handed the chips to Malone, +who took them in nerveless fingers. +"Sir Kenneth," she said, "I +hereby appoint you temporary Chancellor +of the Exchequer—at least until +Parliament convenes."</p> + +<p>There was, Malone thought, at least +thirty-five thousand dollars in the pile. +He could think of nothing to say.</p> + +<p>So, instead of using up words, he +went and cashed in the chips. For +once, he realized, the Government +had made money on an investment. It +was probably the first time since 1775.</p> + +<p>Malone thought vaguely that the +Government ought to make more investments +like the one he was cashing +in. If it did, the National Debt could +be wiped out in a matter of days.</p> + +<p>He brought the money back. Boyd +and the Queen were waiting for him, +but Barbara was still in the ladies' +lounge. "She's on the way out," the +Queen informed him, and, sure +enough, in a minute they saw the figure +approaching them. Malone smiled +at her, and, tentatively, she smiled +back. They began the long march to +the exit of the club, slowly and +regally, though not by choice.</p> + +<p>The crowd, it seemed, wouldn't let +them go. Malone never found out, +then or later, how the news of Her +Majesty's winnings had gone through +the place so fast, but everyone seemed +to know about it. The Queen was the +recipient of several low bows and a +few drunken curtsies, and, when they +reached the front door at last, the +doorman said in a most respectful +tone: "Good evening, Your Majesty."</p> + +<p>The Queen positively beamed at +him. So, to his own great surprise, +did Sir Kenneth Malone.</p> + +<p>Outside, it was about four in the +morning. They climbed into the car +and headed back toward the hotel.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone was the first to speak. +"How did you know that was a Jack +of clubs?" he said in a strangled sort +of voice.</p> + +<p>The little old lady said calmly: "He +was cheating."</p> + +<p>"The dealer?" Malone asked.</p> + +<p>The little old lady nodded.</p> + +<p>"In <i>your</i> favor?"</p> + +<p>"He couldn't have been cheating," +Boyd said at the same instant. "Why +would he want to give you all that +money?"</p> + +<p>The little old lady shook her head. +"He didn't want to give it to me," +she said. "He wanted to give it to the +man in the cowboy's suit. His name is +Elliott, by the way—Bernard L. +Elliott. And he comes from Weehawken. +But he pretends to be a +Westerner so nobody will be suspicious +of him. He and the dealer are +in cahoots ... isn't that the word?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Your Majesty," Boyd said. +"That's the word." His tone was awed +and respectful, and the little old lady +gave a nod and became Queen Elizabeth +I once more.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "the dealer and +Mr. Elliott were in cahoots, and the +dealer wanted to give the hand to Mr. +Elliott. But he made a mistake, and +dealt the Jack of clubs to me. I watched +him, and, of course, I knew what +he was thinking. The rest was +easy."</p> + +<p>"My God," Malone said. "Easy."</p> + +<p>Barbara said: "Did she win?"</p> + +<p>"She won," Malone said with what +he felt was positively magnificent +understatement.</p> + +<p>"Good," Barbara said, and lost interest +at once.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone had seen the lights of a +car in the rear-view mirror a few minutes +before. When he looked now, the +lights were still there—but the fact +just didn't register until, a couple of +blocks later, the car began to pull +around them on the left. It was a +Buick, while Boyd's was a new Lincoln, +but the edge wasn't too apparent +yet.</p> + +<p>Malone spotted the gun barrel +protruding from the Buick and yelled +just before the first shot went off.</p> + +<p>Boyd, at the wheel, didn't even +bother to look. His reflexes took over +and he slammed his foot down on the +brake. The specially-built FBI Lincoln +slowed down instantly. The shotgun +blast splattered the glass of the curved +windshield all over—but none of it +came into the car itself.</p> + +<p>Malone already had his hand on the +butt of the .44 Magnum under his left +armpit, and he even had time to be +grateful, for once, that it wasn't a +smallsword. The women were in the +back seat, frozen, and he yelled: +"Duck!" and felt, rather than saw, +both of them sink down onto the floor +of the car.</p> + +<p>The Buick had slowed down, too, +and the gun barrel was swiveling back +for a second shot. Malone felt naked +and unprotected. The Buick and the +Lincoln were even on the road +now.</p> + +<p>Malone had his revolver out. He +fired the first shot without even realizing +fully that he'd done so, and he +heard a piercing scream from Barbara +in the back seat. He had no time to +look back.</p> + +<p>A .44 Magnum is not, by any +means, a small gun. As hand guns go—revolvers +and automatics—it is +about as large as a gun can get to be. +An ordinary car has absolutely no +chance against it.</p> + +<p>Much less the glass in an ordinary +car.</p> + +<p>The first slug drilled its way +through the window glass as though +it were not there, and slammed its way +through an even more unprotected +obstacle, the frontal bones of the +triggerman's skull. The second slug +from Malone's gun missed the hole +the first slug had made by something +less than an inch.</p> + +<p>The big, apelike thug who was +holding the shotgun had a chance to +pull the trigger once more, but he +wasn't aiming very well. The blast +merely scored the paint off the top of +the Lincoln.</p> + +<p>The rear window of the Buick was +open, and Malone caught sight of another +glint of blued steel from the +corner of his eye. There was no time +to shift aim—not with bullets flying +like swallows on the way to Capistrano. +Malone thought faster than he +had ever imagined himself capable of +doing, and decided to aim for the +driver.</p> + +<p>Evidently the man in the rear seat +of the Buick had had the same inspiration. +Malone blasted two more +high-velocity lead slugs at the driver +of the big Buick, and at the same time +the man in the Buick's rear seat fired +at Boyd.</p> + +<p>But Boyd had shifted tactics. He'd +hit the brakes. Now he came down +hard on the accelerator instead.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The chorus of shrieks from the +Lincoln's back seat increased slightly +in volume. Barbara, Malone knew, +wasn't badly hurt; she hadn't even +stopped for breath since the first shot +had been fired. Anybody who could +scream like that, he told himself, had +to be healthy.</p> + +<p>As the Lincoln leaped ahead, Malone +pulled the trigger of his .44 twice +more. The heavy, high-speed chunks +of streamlined copper-coated lead +leaped from the muzzle of the gun +and slammed into the driver of the +Buick without wasting any time. The +Buick slewed across the highway.</p> + +<p>The two shots fired by the man in +the back seat went past Malone's head +with a <i>whizz</i>, missing both him and +Boyd by a margin too narrow to think +about.</p> + +<p>But those were the last shots. The +only difference between the FBI and +the Enemy seemed to be determination +and practice.</p> + +<p>The Buick spun into a flat sideskid, +swiveled on its wheels and slammed +into the ditch at the side of the road, +turning over and over, making a horrible noise, +as it broke up.</p> + +<p>Boyd slowed the car again, just as +there was a sudden blast of fire. The +Buick had burst into flame and was +spitting heat and smoke and fire in +all directions. Malone sent one more +bullet after it in a last flurry of action—saving +his last one for possible later +emergencies.</p> + +<p>Boyd jammed on the brakes and the +Lincoln came to a screaming halt. In +silence he and Malone watched the +burning Buick roll over and over into +the desert beyond the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"My God," Boyd said. "My ears!"</p> + +<p>Malone understood at once. The +blast from his own still-smoking .44 +had roared past Boyd's head during +the gun battle. No wonder the man's +ears hurt. It was a wonder he wasn't +altogether deaf.</p> + +<p>But Boyd shook off the pain and +brought out his own .44 as he stepped +out of the car. Malone followed +him, his gun trained.</p> + +<p>From the rear, Her Majesty said: +"It's safe to rise now, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"You ought to know," Malone said. +"You can tell if they're still alive."</p> + +<p>There was silence while Queen +Elizabeth frowned for a moment in +concentration. A look of pain crossed +her face, and then, as her expression +smoothed again, she said: "The traitors +are dead. All except one, and +he's—" She paused. "He's dying," she +finished. "He can't hurt you."</p> + +<p>There was no need for further battle. +Malone reholstered his .44 and +turned to Boyd. "Tom, call the State +Police," he said. "Get 'em down here +fast."</p> + +<p>He waited while Boyd climbed back +under the wheel and began punching +buttons on the dashboard. Then Malone +went toward the burning Buick.</p> + +<p>He tried to drag the men out, but +it wasn't any use. The first two, in the +front seat, had the kind of holes in +them people talked about throwing +elephants through. Head and chest +had been hit.</p> + +<p>Malone couldn't get close enough +to the fiercely blazing automobile to +make even a try for the men in the +back seat.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He was sitting quietly on the edge +of the rear seat when the Nevada +Highway Patrol cars drove up next to +them. Barbara Wilson had stopped +screaming, but she was still sobbing on +Malone's shoulder. "It's all right," he +told her, feeling ineffectual.</p> + +<p>"I never saw anybody killed before," +she said.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," Malone said. +"Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll +protect you."</p> + +<p>He wondered if he meant it, and +found, to his surprise, that he did. +Barbara Wilson sniffled and looked up +at him. "Mr. Malone—"</p> + +<p>"Ken," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," she said. "Ken—I'm +so afraid. I saw the hole in one of the +men's heads, when you fired ... it +was—"</p> + +<p>"Don't think about it," Malone +said. To him, the job had been an +unpleasant occurrence, but a job, that +was all. He could see, though, how +it might affect people who were new +to it.</p> + +<p>"You're so brave," she said.</p> + +<p>Malone tightened his arm around +the girl's shoulder. "Just depend on +me," he said. "You'll be all right if +you—"</p> + +<p>The State Trooper walked up then, +and looked at them. "Mr. Malone?" +he said. He seemed to be taken slightly +aback at the costuming.</p> + +<p>"That's right," Malone said. He +pulled out his ID card and the little +golden badge. The State Patrolman +looked at them, and looked back at +Malone.</p> + +<p>"What's with the getup?" he said.</p> + +<p>"FBI," Malone said, hoping his +voice carried conviction. "Official +business."</p> + +<p>"In costume?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about the details," +Malone snapped.</p> + +<p>"He's an FBI agent, sir," Barbara +said.</p> + +<p>"And what are you?" the Patrolman +said. "Lady Jane Grey?"</p> + +<p>"I'm a nurse," Barbara said. "A +psychiatric nurse."</p> + +<p>"For nuts?"</p> + +<p>"For disturbed patients."</p> + +<p>The patrolman thought that over. +"You've got the identity cards and +stuff," he said at last. "Maybe you've +got a reason to dress up. How would +I know? I'm only a State Patrolman."</p> + +<p>"Let's cut the monologue," Malone +said savagely, "and get to business."</p> + +<p>The patrolman stared. Then he +said: "All right, sir. Yes, sir. I'm +Lieutenant Adams, Mr. Malone. Suppose +you tell me what happened?"</p> + +<p>Carefully and concisely, Malone +told him the story of the Buick that +had pulled up beside them, and what +had happened afterward.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the other cops had been +looking over the wreck. When Malone +had finished his story, Lieutenant +Adams flipped his notebook shut and +looked over toward them. "I guess it's +O.K., sir," he said. "As far as I'm +concerned, it's justifiable homicide. +Self-defense. Any reason why they'd +want to kill you?"</p> + +<p>Malone thought about the Golden +Palace. That might be a reason—but +it might not. And why burden an innocent +State Patrolman with the facts +of FBI life?</p> + +<p>"Official," he said. "Your chief will +get the report."</p> + +<p>The patrolman nodded. "I'll have +to take a deposition tomorrow, but—"</p> + +<p>"I know," Malone said. "Thanks. +Can we go on to our hotel now?"</p> + +<p>"I guess," the patrolman said. "Go +ahead. We'll take care of the rest of +this. You'll be getting a call later."</p> + +<p>"Fine," Malone said. "Trace those +hoods, and any connections they might +have had. Get the information to me +as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>Lieutenant Adams nodded. "You +won't have to leave the state, will +you?" he asked. "I don't mean that +you <i>can't</i>, exactly ... hell, you're +FBI. But it'd be easier—"</p> + +<p>"Call Burris in Washington," Malone +said. "He can get hold of me—and +if the Governor wants to know +where we are, or the State's Attorney, +put them in touch with Burris, too. +O.K.?"</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Lieutenant Adams said. +"Sure." He blinked at Malone. "Listen," +he said. "About those costumes—"</p> + +<p>"We're trying to catch Henry VIII +for the murder of Anne Boleyn," Malone +said with a polite smile. "O.K.?"</p> + +<p>"I was only asking," Lieutenant +Adams said. "Can't blame a man for +asking, now, can you?"</p> + +<p>Malone climbed into his front seat. +"Call me later," he said. The car +started. "Back to the hotel, Sir +Thomas," Malone said, and the car +roared off.</p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>VII</h2> + + +<p>Yucca Flats, Malone thought, certainly +deserved its name. It was about +as flat as land could get, and it contained +millions upon millions of useless +yuccas. Perhaps they were good +for something, Malone thought, but +they weren't good for <i>him</i>.</p> + +<p>The place might, of course, have +been called Cactus Flats, but the cacti +were neither as big nor as impressive +as the yuccas.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/010.png" width="430" height="500" alt="" title="" /> +"I knight thee Sir Andrew...."</div> + + + +<p>Or was that yucci?</p> + +<p>Possibly, Malone mused, it was +simply yucks.</p> + +<p>And whatever it was, there were +millions of it. Malone felt he couldn't +stand the sight of another yucca. He +was grateful for only one thing.</p> + +<p>It wasn't summer. If the Elizabethans +had been forced to drive in closed +cars through the Nevada desert in the +summertime, they might have started +a cult of nudity, Malone felt. It was +bad enough now, in what was supposed +to be winter.</p> + +<p>The sun was certainly bright +enough, for one thing. It glared +through the cloudless sky and glanced +with blinding force off the road. Sir +Thomas Boyd squinted at it through +the rather incongruous sunglasses he +was wearing, while Malone wondered +idly if it was the sunglasses, or the +rest of the world, that was an anachronism. +But Sir Thomas kept his eyes +grimly on the road as he gunned the +powerful Lincoln toward the Yucca +Flats Labs at eighty miles an +hour.</p> + +<p>Malone twisted himself around and +faced the women in the back seat. Past +them, through the rear window of the +Lincoln, he could see the second car. +It followed them gamely, carrying the +newest addition to Sir Kenneth Malone's +Collection of Bats.</p> + +<p>"Bats?" Her Majesty said suddenly, +but gently. "Shame on you, Sir +Kenneth. These are poor, sick people. +We must do our best to help them—not +to think up silly names for them. +For shame!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Malone said wearily. +He sighed and, for the fifth time +that day, he asked: "Does Your Majesty +have any idea where our spy is +now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, really, Sir Kenneth," the +Queen said with the slightest of hesitations, +"it isn't easy, you know. Telepathy +has certain laws, just like +everything else. After all, even a +game has laws. Being telepathic did +not help me to play poker—I still had +to learn the rules. And telepathy has +rules, too. A telepath can easily confuse +another telepath by using some +of those rules."</p> + +<p>"Oh, fine," Malone said. "Well, +have you got into contact with his +mind yet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Her Majesty said happily. +"And my goodness, he's certainly +digging up a lot of information, +isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Malone moaned softly. "But who +<i>is</i> he?" he asked after a second.</p> + +<p>The Queen stared at the roof of +the car in what looked like concentration. +"He hasn't thought of his +name yet," she said. "I mean, at least +if he has, he hasn't mentioned it to +me. Really, Sir Kenneth, you have no +idea how difficult all this is."</p> + +<p>Malone swallowed with difficulty. +"<i>Where</i> is he, then?" he said. "Can +you tell me that, at least? His location?"</p> + +<p>Her Majesty looked positively desolated +with sadness. "I can't be sure," +she said. "I really can't be exactly +sure just where he is. He does keep +moving around, I know that. But you +have to remember that he doesn't want +me to find him. He certainly doesn't +want to be found by the FBI ... +would you?"</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," Malone said, "I +<i>am</i> the FBI."</p> + +<p>"Yes," the Queen said, "but suppose +you weren't? He's doing his best +to hide himself, even from me. It's +sort of a game he's playing."</p> + +<p>"A game!"</p> + +<p>Her Majesty looked contrite. "Believe +me, Sir Kenneth, the minute I +know exactly where he is, I'll tell you. +I promise. Cross my heart and hope +to die—which I can't, of course, being +immortal." Nevertheless, she made an +X-mark over her left breast. "All +right?"</p> + +<p>"All right," Malone said, out of +sheer necessity. "O.K. But don't waste +any time telling me. Do it right away. +We've <i>got</i> to find that spy and isolate +him somehow."</p> + +<p>"Please don't worry yourself, Sir +Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "Your +Queen is doing everything she can."</p> + +<p>"I know that, Your Majesty," Malone +said. "I'm sure of it." Privately, +he wondered just how much even she +could do. Then he realized—for perhaps +the ten-thousandth time—that +there was no such thing as wondering +privately any more.</p> + +<p>"That's quite right, Sir Kenneth," +the Queen said sweetly. "And it's +about time you got used to it."</p> + +<p>"What's going on?" Boyd said. +"More reading minds back there?"</p> + +<p>"That's right, Sir Thomas," the +Queen said.</p> + +<p>"I've about gotten used to it," Boyd +said almost cheerfully. "Pretty soon +they'll come and take me away, but I +don't mind at all." He whipped the +car around a bend in the road savagely. +"Pretty soon they'll put me with +the other sane people and let the bats +inherit the world. But I don't mind +at all."</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas!" Her Majesty said in +shocked tones.</p> + +<p>"Please," Boyd said with a deceptive +calmness. "Just Mr. Boyd. Not +even Lieutenant Boyd, or Sergeant +Boyd. Just Mr. Boyd. Or, if you prefer, +Tom."</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas," Her Majesty said, +"I really can't understand this sudden—"</p> + +<p>"Then don't understand it," Boyd +said. "All I know is everybody's nuts, +and I'm sick and tired of it."</p> + +<p>A pall of silence fell over the company.</p> + +<p>"Look, Tom," Malone began at +last.</p> + +<p>"Don't you try smoothing me +down," Boyd snapped.</p> + +<p>Malone's eyebrows rose. "O.K.," +he said. "I won't smooth you down. +I'll just tell you to shut up, to keep +driving—and to show some respect to +Her Majesty."</p> + +<p>"I—" Boyd stopped. There was a +second of silence.</p> + +<p>"<i>That's</i> better," Her Majesty said +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara stretched in the back +seat, next to Her Majesty. "This is +certainly a long drive," she said. +"Have we got much farther to go?"</p> + +<p>"Not too far," Malone said. "We +ought to be there soon."</p> + +<p>"I ... I'm sorry for the way I +acted," Barbara said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, the way you +acted?"</p> + +<p>"Crying like that," Barbara said +with some hesitation. "Making an—absolute +idiot of myself. When that +other car—tried to get us."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry about it," Malone +said. "It was nothing."</p> + +<p>"I just—made trouble for you," +Barbara said.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty touched the girl on the +shoulder. "He's not thinking about +the trouble you cause him," she said +quietly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm not," Malone told +her.</p> + +<p>"But I—"</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," Her Majesty said, +"I believe that Sir Kenneth is, at least +partly, in love with you."</p> + +<p>Malone blinked. It was perfectly +true—even if he hadn't quite known +it himself until now. Telepaths, he +was discovering, were occasionally +handy things to have around.</p> + +<p>"In ... love—" Barbara said.</p> + +<p>"And you, my dear—" Her Majesty +began.</p> + +<p>"Please, Your Majesty," Lady Barbara +said. "No more. Not just now."</p> + +<p>The Queen smiled, almost to herself. +"Certainly, dear," she said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The car sped on. In the distance, +Malone could see the blot on the desert +that indicated the broad expanse +of Yucca Flats Labs. Just the fact that +it could be seen, he knew, didn't +mean an awful lot. Malone had been +able to see it for the past fifteen minutes, +and it didn't look as if they'd +gained an inch on it. Desert distances +are deceptive.</p> + +<p>At long last, however, the main +gate of the laboratories hove into +view. Boyd made a left turn off the +highway and drove a full seven miles +along the restricted road, right up to +the big gate that marked the entrance +of the laboratories themselves. Once +again, they were faced with the army +of suspicious guards and security officers.</p> + +<p>This time, suspicion was somewhat +heightened by the dress of the visitors. +Malone had to explain about six times +that the costumes were part of an FBI +arrangement, that he had not stolen +his identity cards, that Boyd's cards +were Boyd's, too, and in general that +the four of them were not insane, not +spies, and not jokesters out for a lark +in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>Malone had expected all of that. +He went through the rigmarole wearily +but without any sense of surprise. +The one thing he hadn't been expecting +was the man who was waiting for +him on the other side of the +gate.</p> + +<p>When he'd finished identifying +everybody for the fifth or sixth time, +he began to climb back into the car. +A familiar voice stopped him cold.</p> + +<p>"Just a minute, Malone," Andrew +J. Burris said. He erupted from the +guardhouse like an avenging angel, +followed closely by a thin man, about +five feet ten inches in height, with +brush-cut brown hair, round horn-rimmed +spectacles, large hands and +a small Sir Francis Drake beard. Malone +looked at the two figures blankly.</p> + +<p>"Something wrong, chief?" he said.</p> + +<p>Burris came toward the car. The +thin gentleman followed him, walking +with an odd bouncing step that must +have been acquired, Malone thought, +over years of treading on rubber eggs. +"I don't know," Burris said when +he'd reached the door. "When I was +in Washington, I seemed to know—but +when I get out here in this desert, +everything just goes haywire." He +rubbed at his forehead.</p> + +<p>Then he looked into the car. +"Hello, Boyd," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Hello, chief," Boyd said.</p> + +<p>Burris blinked. "Boyd, you look +like Henry VIII," he said with only +the faintest trace of surprise.</p> + +<p>"Doesn't he, though?" Her Majesty +said from the rear seat. "I've noticed +that resemblance myself."</p> + +<p>Burris gave her a tiny smile. "Oh," +he said. "Hello, Your Majesty. I'm—"</p> + +<p>"Andrew J. Burris, Director of the +FBI," the Queen finished for him. +"Yes, I know. It's very nice to meet +you at last. I've seen you on television, +and over the video phone. You +photograph badly, you know."</p> + +<p>"I do?" Burris said pleasantly. It +was obvious that he was keeping himself +under very tight control.</p> + +<p>Malone felt remotely sorry for the +man—but only remotely. Burris might +as well know, he thought, what they +had all been going through the past +several days.</p> + +<p>Her Majesty was saying something +about the honorable estate of knighthood, +and the Queen's List. Malone +began paying attention when she +came to: "... And I hereby dub +thee—" She stopped suddenly, turned +and said: "Sir Kenneth, give me your +weapon."</p> + +<p>Malone hesitated for a long, long +second. But Burris' eye was on him, +and he could interpret the look without +much trouble. There was only one +thing for him to do. He pulled out +his .44, ejected the remaining cartridge +in his palm—and reminded +himself to reload the gun as soon as +he got it back—and handed the weapon +to the Queen, butt foremost.</p> + +<p>She took the butt of the revolver +in her right hand, leaned out the window +of the car, and said in a fine, +distinct voice: "Kneel, Andrew."</p> + +<p>Malone watched with wide, astonished +eyes as Andrew J. Burris, Director +of the FBI, went to one knee +in a low and solemn genuflection. +Queen Elizabeth Thompson nodded +her satisfaction.</p> + +<p>She tapped Burris gently on each +shoulder with the muzzle of the gun. +"I knight thee Sir Andrew," she said. +She cleared her throat. "My, this desert +air is dry—Rise, Sir Andrew, and +know that you are henceforth Knight +Commander of the Queen's Own +FBI."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Your Majesty," Burris +said humbly.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet silently. The +Queen withdrew into the car again and +handed the gun back to Malone. He +thumbed cartridges into the chambers +of the cylinder and listened dumbly.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," Burris said, "this +is Dr. Harry Gamble, the head of +Project Isle. Dr. Gamble, this is Her +Majesty the Queen; Lady Barbara +Wilson, her ... uh ... her lady in +waiting; Sir Kenneth Malone; and +King ... I mean Sir Thomas Boyd." +He gave the four a single bright impartial +smile. Then he tore his eyes +away from the others, and bent his +gaze on Sir Kenneth Malone. "Come +over here a minute, Malone," he said, +jerking his thumb over his shoulder. +"I want to talk to you."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone climbed out of the car and +went around to meet Burris. He felt +just a little worried as he followed the +Director away from the car. True, he +had sent Burris a long telegram the +night before, in code. But he hadn't +expected the man to show up at Yucca +Flats. There didn't seem to be any +reason for it.</p> + +<p>And when there isn't any reason, +Malone told himself sagely, it's a bad +one.</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble, chief?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>Burris sighed. "None so far," he +said quietly. "I got a report from the +Nevada State Patrol, and ran it +through R&I. They identified the men +you killed, all right—but it didn't +do us any good. They're hired +hoods."</p> + +<p>"Who hired them?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>Burris shrugged. "Somebody with +money," he said. "Hell, men like that +would kill their own grandmothers if +the price were right—you know that. +We can't trace them back any farther."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded. That was, he had +to admit, bad news. But then, when +had he last had any good news?</p> + +<p>"We're nowhere near our telepathic +spy," Burris said. "We haven't come +any closer than we were when we +started. Have you got anything? Anything +at all, no matter how small?"</p> + +<p>"Not that I know of, sir," Malone +said.</p> + +<p>"What about the little old lady ... what's +her name? Thompson. Anything +from her?"</p> + +<p>Malone hesitated. "She has a close +fix on the spy, sir," he said slowly, +"but she doesn't seem able to identify +him right away."</p> + +<p>"What else does she want?" Burris +said. "We've made her Queen and +given her a full retinue in costume; +we've let her play roulette and poker +with Government money. Does she +want to hold a mass execution? If +she does, I can supply some congressmen, +Malone. I'm sure it could be +arranged." He looked at the agent +narrowly. "I might even be able to +supply an FBI man or two," he added.</p> + +<p>Malone swallowed hard. "I'm trying +the best I can, sir," he said. +"What about the others?"</p> + +<p>Burris looked even unhappier than +usual. "Come along," he said. "I'll +show you."</p> + +<p>When they got back to the car, Dr. +Gamble was talking spiritedly with +Her Majesty about Roger Bacon. "Before +my time, of course," the Queen +was saying, "but I'm sure he was a +most interesting man. Now when dear +old Marlowe wrote his 'Faust,' he +and I had several long discussions +about such matters. Alchemy—"</p> + +<p>Burris interrupted with: "I beg +your pardon, Your Majesty, but we +must get on. Perhaps you'll be able +to continue your ... ah ... audience +later." He turned to Boyd. "Sir +Thomas," he said with an effort, +"drive directly to the Westinghouse +buildings. Over that way." He pointed. +"Dr. Gamble will ride with you, +and the rest of us will follow in the +second car. Let's move."</p> + +<p>He stepped back as the project head +got into the car, and watched it roar +off. Then he and Malone went to the +second car, another FBI Lincoln. Two +agents were sitting in the back seat, +with a still figure between them.</p> + +<p>With a shock, Malone recognized +William Logan and the agents he'd +detailed to watch the telepath. Logan's +face did not seem to have changed +expression since Malone had seen it +last, and he wondered wildly if perhaps +it had to be dusted once a +week.</p> + +<p>He got in behind the wheel and +Burris slid in next to him.</p> + +<p>"Westinghouse." Burris said. "And +let's get there in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Right," Malone said, and started +the car.</p> + +<p>"We just haven't had a single +lead," Burris said. "I was hoping +you'd come up with something. Your +telegram detailed the fight, of course, +and the rest of what's been happening—but +I hoped there'd be something +more."</p> + +<p>"There isn't," Malone was forced +to admit. "All we can do is try to +persuade Her Majesty to tell us—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know it isn't easy," Burris +said. "But it seems to me—"</p> + +<p>By the time they'd arrived at the +administrative offices of Westinghouse's +psionics research area, Malone +found himself wishing that something +would happen. Possibly, he thought, +lightning might strike, or an earthquake +swallow everything up. He was, +suddenly, profoundly tired of the entire +affair.</p> + + + +<hr class="hrchp" /> +<h2>VIII</h2> + + +<p>Four days later, he was more than +tired. He was exhausted. The six psychopaths—including +Her Majesty +Queen Elizabeth I—had been housed +in a converted dormitory in the Westinghouse +area, together with four +highly nervous and even more highly +trained and investigated psychiatrists +from St. Elizabeths in Washington. +The Convention of Nuts, as Malone +called it privately, was in full swing. +And it was every bit as strange as +he'd thought it was going to be. Unfortunately, +five of the six—Her Majesty +being the only exception—were +completely out of contact with the +world. The psychiatrists referred to +them in worried tones as "unavailable +for therapy," and spent most of their +time brooding over possible ways of +bringing them back into the real world +for a while.</p> + +<p>Malone stayed away from the five +who were completely psychotic. The +weird babblings of fifty-year-old Barry +Miles disconcerted him. They sounded +like little Charlie O'Neill's strange +semi-connected jabber, but Westinghouse's +Dr. O'Connor said that it +seemed to represent another phenomenon +entirely. William Logan's blank +face was a memory of horror, but the +constant tinkling giggles of Ardith +Parker, the studied and concentrated +way that Gordon Macklin wove meaningless +patterns in the air with his +waving fingers, and the rhythmless, +melodyless humming that seemed to +be all there was to the personality of +Robert Cassiday were simply too +much for Malone. Taken singly, each +was frightening and remote; all together, +they wove a picture of insanity +that chilled him more than he +wanted to admit.</p> + +<p>When the seventh telepath was +flown in from Honolulu, Malone +didn't even bother to see her. He let +the psychiatrists take over directly, +and simply avoided their sessions.</p> + +<p>Queen Elizabeth I, on the other +hand, he found genuinely likeable. +According to the psych boys, she had +been—as both Malone and Her Majesty +had theorized—heavily frustrated +by being the possessor of a talent +which no one else recognized. Beyond +that, the impact of other minds was +disturbing; there was a slight loss of +identity which seemed to be a major +factor in every case of telepathic insanity. +But the Queen had compensated +for her frustrations in the easiest +possible way; she had simply +traded her identity for another one, +and had rationalized a single, over-ruling +delusion: that she was Queen +Elizabeth I of England, still alive +and wrongfully deprived of her +throne.</p> + +<p>"It's a beautiful rationalization," +one of the psychiatrists said with more +than a trace of admiration in his +voice. "Complete and thoroughly consistent. +She's just traded identities—and +everything else she does—<i>everything</i> +else—stems logically out of her +delusional premise. Beautiful."</p> + +<p>She might have been crazy, Malone +realized. But she was a long way from +stupid.</p> + +<p>The project was in full swing. The +only trouble was that they were no +nearer finding the telepath than they +had been three weeks before. With +five completely blank human beings +to work with, and the sixth Queen +Elizabeth (Malone heard privately +that the last telepath, the girl from +Honolulu, was no better than the first +five; she had apparently regressed into +what one of the psychiatrists called a +"non-identity childhood syndrome." +Malone didn't know what it meant, +but it sounded terrible.) Malone +could see why progress was their most +difficult commodity.</p> + +<p>Dr. Harry Gamble, the head of +Project Isle, was losing poundage by +the hour with worry. And, Malone +reflected, he could ill afford it.</p> + +<p>Burris, Malone and Boyd had set +themselves up in a temporary office +within the Westinghouse area. The +director had left his assistant in +charge in Washington. Nothing, he +said over and over again, was as important +as the spy in Project Isle.</p> + +<p>Apparently Boyd had come to believe +that, too. At any rate, though he +was still truculent, there were no +more outbursts of rebellion.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>But, on the fourth day:</p> + +<p>"What do we do now?" Burris +asked.</p> + +<p>"Shoot ourselves," Boyd said +promptly.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here—" Malone began, +but he was overruled.</p> + +<p>"Boyd," Burris said levelly, "if I +hear any more of that sort of pessimism, +you're going to be an exception +to the beard rule. One more +crack out of you, and you can go out +and buy yourself a razor."</p> + +<p>Boyd put his hand over his chin +protectively, and said nothing at +all.</p> + +<p>"Wait a minute," Malone said. +"Aren't there any <i>sane</i> telepaths in +the world?"</p> + +<p>"We can't find any," Burris said. +"We—"</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the office +door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" Burris called.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Gamble," said the man's +surprisingly baritone voice.</p> + +<p>Burris called: "Come in, doctor," +and the door opened. Dr. Gamble's +lean face looked almost haggard.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Burris," he said, extending +his arms a trifle, "can't anything be +done?" Malone had seen Gamble +speaking before, and had wondered +if it would be possible for the man +to talk with his hands tied behind +his back. Apparently it wouldn't be. +"We feel that we are approaching a +critical stage in Project Isle," the scientist +said, enclosing one fist within +the other hand. "If anything more +gets out to the Soviets, we might as +well publish our findings"—a wide, +outflung gesture of both arms—"in +the newspapers."</p> + +<p>Burris stepped back. "We're doing +the best we can, Dr. Gamble," he +said. All things considered, his obvious +try at radiating confidence was +nearly successful. "After all," he +went on, "we know a great deal more +than we did four days ago. Miss +Thompson has assured us that the spy +is right here, within the compound +of Yucca Flats Labs. We've bottled +everything up in this compound, and +I'm confident that no information is +at present getting through to the +Soviet Government. Miss Thompson +agrees with me."</p> + +<p>"Miss Thompson?" Gamble said, +one hand at his bearded chin.</p> + +<p>"The Queen," Burris said.</p> + +<p>Gamble nodded and two fingers +touched his forehead. "Ah," he said. +"Of course." He rubbed at the back +of his neck. "But we can't keep everybody +who's here now locked up forever. +Sooner or later we'll have to let +them"—his left hand described the +gesture of a man tossing away a wad +of paper—"go." His hands fell to his +sides. "We're lost, unless we can find +that spy."</p> + +<p>"We'll find him," Burris said with +a show of great confidence.</p> + +<p>"But—"</p> + +<p>"Give her time," Burris said. "Give +her time. Remember her mental condition."</p> + +<p>Boyd looked up. "Rome," he said +in an absent fashion, "wasn't built in +a daze."</p> + +<p>Burris glared at him, but said nothing. +Malone filled the conversational +hole with what he thought would be +nice, and hopeful, and untrue.</p> + +<p>"We know he's someone on the +reservation, so we'll catch him eventually," +he said. "And as long as his +information isn't getting into Soviet +hands, we're safe." He glanced at his +wrist watch.</p> + +<p>Dr. Gamble said: "But—"</p> + +<p>"My, my," Malone said. "Almost +lunchtime. I have to go over and have +lunch with Her Majesty. Maybe she's +dug up something more."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," Dr. Gamble said, apparently +successfully deflected. "I do +hope so."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 139px; margin-bottom: 0;"> +<img src="images/011-1.png" style="display: block;" width="139" height="120" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 363px; margin-top: 0;"> +<img src="images/011-2.png" style="display: block;" width="363" height="380" alt="" title="" /> +"One more crack out of you...."</div> + + + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "pardon +me." He shucked off his coat and +trousers. Then he proceeded to put +on the doublet and hose that hung in +the little office closet. He shrugged +into the fur-trimmed, slash-sleeved +coat, adjusted the plumed hat to his +satisfaction with great care, and gave +Burris and the others a small bow. +"I go to an audience with Her Majesty, +gentlemen," he said in a grave, +well-modulated voice. "I shall return +anon."</p> + +<p>He went out the door and closed +it carefully behind him. When he had +gone a few steps he allowed himself +the luxury of a deep sigh.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Then he went outside and across +the dusty street to the barracks where +Her Majesty and the other telepaths +were housed. No one paid any attention +to him, and he rather missed the +stares he'd become used to drawing. +But by now, everyone was used to +seeing Elizabethan clothing. Her Majesty +had arrived at a new plateau.</p> + +<p>She would now allow no one to +have audience with her unless he was +properly dressed. Even the psychiatrists—whom +she had, with a careful +sense of meiosis, appointed Physicians +to the Royal House—had to wear the +stuff.</p> + +<p>Malone went over the whole case +in his mind—for about the thousandth +time, he told himself bitterly.</p> + +<p>Who could the telepathic spy be? It +was like looking for a needle in a +rolling stone, he thought. Or something. +He did remember clearly that +a stitch in time saved nine, but he +didn't know nine what, and suspected +it had nothing to do with his present +problem.</p> + +<p>How about Dr. Harry Gamble, +Malone thought. It seemed a little +unlikely that the head of Project Isle +would be spying on his own men—particularly +since he already had all +the information. But, on the other +hand, he was just as probable a spy +as anybody else.</p> + +<p>Malone moved onward. Dr. Thomas +O'Connor, the Westinghouse +psionics man, was the next nominee. +Before Malone had actually found +Her Majesty, he had had a suspicion +that O'Connor had cooked the whole +thing up to throw the FBI off the +trail and confuse everybody, and that +he'd intended merely to have the FBI +chase ghosts while the real spy did +his work undetected.</p> + +<p>But what if O'Connor were the spy +himself—a telepath? What if he were +so confident of his ability to throw +the Queen off the track that he had +allowed the FBI to find all the other +telepaths? There was another argument +for that: he'd had to report the +findings of his machine no matter +what it cost him; there were too many +other men on his staff who knew +about it.</p> + +<p>O'Connor was a perfectly plausible +spy, too. But he didn't seem very likely. +The head of a Government project +is likely to be a much-investigated +man. Could any tie-up with Russia—even +a psionic one—stand against +that kind of investigation? Malone +doubted it.</p> + +<p>Malone thought of the psychiatrists. +There wasn't any evidence, that +was the trouble. There wasn't any +evidence either way.</p> + +<p>Then he wondered if Boyd had +been thinking of him, Malone, as the +possible spy. Certainly it worked in +reverse. Boyd—</p> + +<p>No. That was silly.</p> + +<p>Malone told himself that he might +as well consider Andrew J. Burris.</p> + +<p>Ridiculous. Absolutely ridic—</p> + +<p>Well, Queen Elizabeth had seemed +pretty certain when she'd pointed him +out in Dr. Dowson's office. And even +though she'd changed her mind, how +much faith could be placed in Her +Majesty? After all, if she'd made a +mistake about Burris, she could just +as easily have made a mistake about +the spy's being at Yucca Flats. In that +case, Malone thought sadly, they were +right back where they'd started from.</p> + +<p>Behind their own goal line.</p> + +<p>One way or another, though, Her +Majesty had made a mistake. She'd +pointed Burris out as the spy, and +then she'd said she'd been wrong. +Either Burris was a spy or he wasn't. +You couldn't have it both ways.</p> + +<p>Why couldn't you? Malone +thought suddenly. And then something +Burris himself had said came +back to him, something that—</p> + +<p><i>I'll be damned</i>, he thought.</p> + +<p>He came to a dead stop in the +middle of the street. In one sudden +flash of insight, all the pieces of the +case he'd been looking at for so long +fell together and formed one consistent +picture. The pattern was complete.</p> + +<p>Malone blinked.</p> + +<p>In that second, he knew exactly +who the spy was.</p> + +<p>A jeep honked raucously and +swerved around him. The driver leaned +out to curse and remained to stare. +Malone was already halfway back to +the offices.</p> + +<p>On the way, he stopped in at another +small office, this one inhabited +by the two FBI men from Las Vegas. +He gave a series of quick orders, and +got the satisfaction, as he left, of +seeing one of the FBI men grabbing +for a phone in a hurry. It was good +to be <i>doing</i> things again, important +things.</p> + +<p>Burris, Boyd and Dr. Gamble were +still talking as Malone entered.</p> + +<p>"That," Burris said, "was one hell +of a quick lunch. What's Her Majesty +doing now—running a diner?"</p> + +<p>Malone ignored the bait. "Gentlemen," +he said solemnly, "Her Majesty +has asked that all of us attend +her in audience. She has information +of the utmost gravity to impart, and +wishes an audience at once."</p> + +<p>Burris looked startled. "Has +she—" he began, and stopped, leaving +his mouth open and the rest of +the sentence unfinished.</p> + +<p>Malone nodded gravely. "I believe, +gentlemen," he said, "that Her Majesty +is about to reveal the identity of +the spy who has been battening on +Project Isle."</p> + +<p>The silence didn't last three seconds.</p> + +<p>"Let's go," Burris snapped. He and +the others headed for the door.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen!" Malone sounded +properly shocked and offended. +"Your dress!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>no</i>," Boyd said. "Not now."</p> + +<p>Burris simply said: "You're quite +right. Get dressed, Boyd ... I mean, +of course, Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>While Burris, Boyd and Dr. Gamble +were dressing, Malone put in a +call to Dr. O'Connor and told him +to be at Her Majesty's court in ten +minutes—and in full panoply. +O'Connor, not unnaturally, balked a +little at first. But Malone talked fast +and sounded as urgent as he felt. At +last he got the psionicist's agreement.</p> + +<p>Then he put in a second call to the +psychiatrists from St. Elizabeths and +told them the same thing. More used +to the strange demands of neurotic +and psychotic patients, they were +readier to comply.</p> + +<p>Everyone, Malone realized with +satisfaction, was assembled. Even +Burris and the others were ready to +go. Beaming, he led them out.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ten minutes later, there were nine +men in Elizabethan costume standing +outside the room which had been +designated as the Queen's Court. Dr. +Gamble's costume did not quite fit +him; his sleeve ruffs were halfway up +to his elbows and his doublet had an +unfortunate tendency to creep. The +St. Elizabeths men, all four of them, +looked just a little like moth-eaten +versions of old silent pictures. Malone +looked them over with a somewhat +sardonic eye. Not only did he +have the answer to the whole problem +that had been plaguing them, +but <i>his</i> costume was a stunning, perfect +fit.</p> + +<p>"Now, I want you men to let me +handle this," Malone said. "I know +just what I want to say, and I think +I can get the information without too +much trouble."</p> + +<p>One of the psychiatrists spoke up. +"I trust you won't disturb the patient, +Mr. Malone," he said.</p> + +<p>"Sir Kenneth," Malone snapped.</p> + +<p>The psychiatrist looked both +abashed and worried. "I'm sorry," he +said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>Malone nodded. "That's all right," +he said. "I'll try not to disturb Her +Majesty unduly."</p> + +<p>The psychiatrists conferred. When +they came out of the huddle one of +them—Malone was never able to tell +them apart—said: "Very well, we'll +let you handle it. But we will be +forced to interfere if we feel you're +... ah ... going too far."</p> + +<p>Malone said: "That's fair enough, +gentlemen. Let's go."</p> + +<p>He opened the door.</p> + +<p>It was a magnificent room. The +whole place had been done over in +plastic and synthetic fibers to look like +something out of the Sixteenth Century. +It was as garish, and as perfect, +as a Hollywood movie set—which +wasn't surprising, since two stage +designers had been hired away from +color-TV spectaculars to set it up. At +the far end of the room, past the rich +hangings and the flaming chandeliers, +was a great throne, and on it Her +Majesty was seated. Lady Barbara +reclined on the steps at her feet.</p> + +<p>Malone saw the expression on Her +Majesty's face. He wanted to talk to +Barbara—but there wasn't time. +Later, there might be. Now, he collected +his mind and drove one +thought at the Queen, one single +powerful thought:</p> + +<p><i>Read me! You know by this time +that I have the truth—but read +deeper!</i></p> + +<p>The expression on her face +changed suddenly. She was smiling a +sad, gentle little smile. Lady Barbara, +who had looked up at the approach +of Sir Kenneth and his entourage, +relaxed again, but her eyes remained +on Malone. "You may approach, my +lords," said the Queen.</p> + +<p>Sir Kenneth led the procession, +with Sir Thomas and Sir Andrew +close behind him. O'Connor and +Gamble came next, and bringing up +the rear were the four psychiatrists. +They strode slowly along the red +carpet that stretched from the door +to the foot of the throne. They came +to a halt a few feet from the steps +leading up to the throne, and bowed +in unison.</p> + +<p>"You may explain, Sir Kenneth," +Her Majesty said.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty understands the +conditions?" Malone asked.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly," said the Queen. +"Proceed."</p> + +<p>Now the expression on Barbara's +face changed, to wonder and a kind +of fright. Malone didn't look at her. +Instead, he turned to Dr. O'Connor.</p> + +<p>"Dr. O'Connor, what are your +plans for the telepaths who have +been brought here?" He shot the +question out quickly, and O'Connor +was caught off-balance.</p> + +<p>"Well ... ah ... we would like +their co-operation in further research +which we ... ah ... plan to do +into the actual mechanisms of telepathy. +Provided, of course"—he +coughed gently—"provided that they +become ... ah ... accessible. Miss +... I mean, of course, Her Majesty +has ... already been a great deal of +help." He gave Malone an odd look. +It seemed to say: <i>what's coming +next?</i></p> + +<p>Malone simply gave him a nod, +and a "Thank you, doctor," and +turned to Burris. He could feel Barbara's +eyes on him, but he went on +with his prepared questions. "Chief," +he said, "what about you? After we +nail our spy, what happens ... to +Her Majesty, I mean? You don't intend +to stop giving her the homage +due her, do you?"</p> + +<p>Burris stared, openmouthed. After +a second he managed to say: "Why, +no, of course not, Sir Kenneth. That +is"—and he glanced over at the psychiatrists—"if +the doctors think—"</p> + +<p>There was another hurried consultation. +The four psychiatrists came +out of it with a somewhat shaky +statement to the effect that treatments +which had been proven to have some +therapeutic value ought not to be +discontinued, although of course +there was always the chance that—</p> + +<p>"Thank you, gentlemen," Malone +said smoothly. He could see that they +were nervous, and no wonder; he +could imagine how difficult it was for +a psychiatrist to talk about a patient +in her presence. But they'd already +realized that it didn't make any difference; +their thoughts were an open +book, anyway.</p> + +<p>Lady Barbara said: "Sir ... I mean +Ken ... are you going to—"</p> + +<p>"What's this all about?" Burris +snapped.</p> + +<p>"Just a minute, Sir Andrew," Malone +said. "I'd like to ask one of the +doctors here—or all of them, for that +matter—one more question." He +whirled and faced them. "I'm assuming +that not one of these persons is +legally responsible for his or her actions. +Is that correct?"</p> + +<p>Another hurried huddle. The psych +boys were beginning to remind Malone +of a semi-pro football team in +rather unusual uniforms.</p> + +<p>Finally one of them said: "You +are correct. According to the latest +statutes, all of these persons are legally +insane—including Her Majesty." +He paused and gulped. "I except the +FBI, of course—and ourselves." Another +pause. "And Dr. O'Connor and +Dr. Gamble."</p> + +<p>"And," said Lady Barbara, "me." +She smiled sweetly at them all.</p> + +<p>"Ah," the psychiatrist said. "Certainly. +Of course." He retired into his +group with some confusion.</p> + +<p>Malone was looking straight at the +throne. Her Majesty's countenance +was serene and unruffled.</p> + +<p>Barbara said suddenly: "You don't +mean ... but she—" and closed her +mouth. Malone shot her one quick +look, and then turned to the +Queen.</p> + +<p>"Well, Your Majesty?" he said. +"You have seen the thoughts of every +man here. How do they appear to +you?"</p> + +<p>Her voice contained both tension +and relief. "They are all good men, +basically—and kind men," she said. +"And they believe us. That's the important +thing, you know. Their belief +in us— Just as you did that first day +we met. We've needed belief for so +long ... for so long—" Her voice +trailed off; it seemed to become lost +in a constellation of thoughts. Barbara +had turned to look up at Her +Majesty.</p> + +<p>Malone took a step forward, but +Burris interrupted him. "How about +the spy?" he said.</p> + +<p>Then his eyes widened. Boyd, +standing next to him, leaned suddenly +forward. "That's why you mentioned +all that about legal immunity +because of insanity," he whispered. +"Because—"</p> + +<p>"No," Barbara said. "No. She +couldn't ... she's not—"</p> + +<p>They were all looking at Her Majesty, +now. She returned them stare +for stare, her back stiff and straight +and her white hair enhaloed in the +room's light. "Sir Kenneth," she said—and +her voice was only the least +bit unsteady—"they all think <i>I'm</i> the +spy."</p> + +<p>Barbara stood up. "Listen," she +said. "I didn't like Her Majesty at +first ... well, she was a patient, and +that was all, and when she started +putting on airs ... but since I've +gotten to know her I do like her. I +like her because she's good and kind +herself, and because ... because she +wouldn't be a spy. She couldn't be. +No matter what any of you think ... +even you ... Sir Kenneth!"</p> + +<p>There was a second of silence.</p> + +<p>"Of course she's not," Malone said +quietly. "She's no spy."</p> + +<p>"Would I spy on my own subjects?" +she said. "Use your reason!"</p> + +<p>"You mean...." Burris began, and +Boyd finished for him:</p> + +<p>"... She isn't?"</p> + +<p>"No," Malone snapped. "She isn't. +Remember, you said it would take a +telepath to catch a telepath?"</p> + +<p>"Well—" Burris began.</p> + +<p>"Well, Her Majesty remembered +it," Malone said. "And acted on it."</p> + +<p>Barbara remained standing. She +went to the Queen and put an arm +around the little old lady's shoulder. +Her Majesty did not object. "I +knew," she said. "You couldn't have +been a spy."</p> + +<p>"Listen, dear," the Queen said. +"Your Kenneth has seen the truth of +the matter. Listen to him."</p> + +<p>"Her Majesty not only caught the +spy," Malone said, "but she turned +the spy right over to us."</p> + +<p>He turned at once and went back +down the long red carpet to the door. +<i>I really ought to get a sword</i>, he +thought, and didn't see Her Majesty +smile. He opened the door with a +great flourish and said quietly: +"Bring him in, boys."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The FBI men from Las Vegas +marched in. Between them was their +prisoner, a boy with a vacuous face, +clad in a strait jacket that seemed to +make no difference at all to him. His +mind was—somewhere else. But his +body was trapped between the FBI +agents: the body of William Logan.</p> + +<p>"Impossible," one of the psychiatrists +said.</p> + +<p>Malone spun on his heel and led +the way back to the throne. Logan +and his guards followed closely.</p> + +<p>"Your Majesty," Malone said, +"may I present the prisoner?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly correct, Sir Kenneth," +the Queen said. "Poor Willie is your +spy. You won't be too hard on him, +will you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Your Majesty," +Malone said. "After all—"</p> + +<p>"Now wait a minute," Burris exploded. +"How did <i>you</i> know any of +this?"</p> + +<p>Malone bowed to Her Majesty, and +winked at Barbara. He turned to Burris. +"Well," he said, "I had one piece +of information none of the rest of you +had. When we were in the Desert +Edge Sanitarium, Dr. Dowson called +you on the phone. Remember?"</p> + +<p>"Sure I remember," Burris said. +"So?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "Her Majesty +said she knew just where the spy +was. I asked her where—"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me?" Burris +screamed. "You knew all this time +and you didn't tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Hold on," Malone said. "I asked +her where—and she said: 'He's right +there.' And she was pointing right at +your image on the screen."</p> + +<p>Burris opened his mouth. Nothing +came out. He closed it and tried +again. At last he managed one word.</p> + +<p>"Me?" he said.</p> + +<p>"You," Malone said. "But that's +what I realized later. She wasn't +pointing at you. She was pointing at +Logan, who was in the next room."</p> + +<p>Barbara whispered: "Is that right, +Your Majesty?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, dear," the Queen said +calmly. "Would I lie to Sir Kenneth?"</p> + +<p>Malone was still talking. "The +thing that set me off this noon was +something you said, Sir Andrew," he +went on. "You said there weren't any +sane telepaths—remember?"</p> + +<p>Burris, incapable of speech, merely +nodded.</p> + +<p>"But according to Her Majesty," +Malone said, "we had every telepath +in the United States right here. She +told me that—and I didn't even see +it!"</p> + +<p>"Don't blame yourself, Sir Kenneth," +the Queen put in. "I did do +my best to mislead you, you know."</p> + +<p>"You sure did!" Malone said. +"And later on, when we were driving +here, you said the spy was 'moving +around.' That's right; he was in the +car behind us, going eighty miles an +hour."</p> + +<p>Barbara stared. Malone got a lot of +satisfaction out of that stare. But +there was still more ground to cover.</p> + +<p>"Then," he said, "you told us he +was here at Yucca Flats—after we +brought him here! It had to be one +of the other six telepaths."</p> + +<p>The psychiatrist who'd muttered: +"Impossible," was still muttering it. +Malone ignored him.</p> + +<p>"And when I remembered her +pointing at you," Malone told Burris, +"and remembered that she'd only +said: 'He's right there,' I knew it +had to be Logan. You weren't there. +You were only an image on a TV +screen. Logan was there—in the room +behind the phone."</p> + +<p>Burris had found his tongue. "All +right," he said. "O.K. But what's all +this about misleading us—and why +didn't she tell us right away, anyhow?"</p> + +<p>Malone turned to Her Majesty on +the throne. "I think that the Queen +had better explain that—if she will."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Queen Elizabeth Thompson nodded +very slowly. "I ... I only wanted +you to respect me," she said. "To +treat me properly." Her voice sounded +uneven, and her eyes were glistening +with unspilled tears. Lady Barbara +tightened her arm about the Queen's +shoulders once more.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," she said. "We do—respect +you."</p> + +<p>The Queen smiled up at her.</p> + +<p>Malone waited. After a second Her +Majesty continued.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid that as soon as you +found poor Willie you'd send me +back to the hospital," she said. "And +Willie couldn't tell the Russian agents +any more once he'd been taken away. +So I thought I'd just ... just let +things stay the way they were as long +as I could. That's ... that's all."</p> + +<p>Malone nodded. After a second he +said: "You see that we couldn't possibly +send you back now, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I—"</p> + +<p>"You know all the State Secrets, +Your Majesty," Malone said. "We +would rather that Dr. Harman in San +Francisco didn't try to talk you out +of them. Or anyone else."</p> + +<p>The Queen smiled tremulously. "I +know too much, do I?" she said. +Then her grin faded. "Poor Dr. Harman," +she said.</p> + +<p>"Poor Dr. Harman?"</p> + +<p>"You'll hear about him in a day or +so," she said. "I ... peeked inside +his mind. He's very ill."</p> + +<p>"Ill?" Lady Barbara asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," the Queen said. The +trace of a smile appeared on her face. +"He thinks that all the patients in +the hospital can see inside his mind."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my," Lady Barbara said—and +began to laugh. It was the nicest +sound Malone had ever heard.</p> + +<p>"Forget Harman," Burris snapped. +"What about this spy ring? How was +Logan getting his information out?"</p> + +<p>"I've already taken care of that," +Malone said. "I had Desert Edge +Sanitarium surrounded as soon as I +knew what the score was." He looked +at one of the agents holding Logan.</p> + +<p>"They ought to be in the Las Vegas +jail within half an hour," the agent +said in confirmation.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Dowson was in on it, wasn't +he, Your Majesty?" Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the Queen said. Her +eyes were suddenly very cold. "I hope +he tries to escape. I hope he tries it."</p> + +<p>Malone knew just how she felt.</p> + +<p>One of the psychiatrists spoke up +suddenly. "I don't understand it," he +said. "Logan is completely catatonic. +Even if he could read minds, how +could he tell Dowson what he'd read? +It doesn't make sense."</p> + +<p>"In the first place," the Queen +said patiently, "Willie isn't catatonic. +He's just <i>busy</i>, that's all. He's only +a boy, and ... well, he doesn't much +like being who he is. So he visits +other people's minds, and that way he +becomes <i>them</i> for a while. You see?"</p> + +<p>"Vaguely," Malone said. "But how +did Dowson get his information? I +had everything worked out but that."</p> + +<p>"I know you did," the Queen said, +"and I'm proud of you. I intend to +award you with the Order of the +Bath for this day's work."</p> + +<p>Unaccountably, Malone's chest +swelled with pride.</p> + +<p>"As for Dr. Dowson," the Queen +said, "that traitor ... <i>hurt</i> Willie. +If he's hurt enough, he'll come back." +Her eyes weren't hard any more. "He +didn't want to be a spy, really," she +said, "but he's just a boy, and it must +have sounded rather exciting. He +knew that if he told Dowson everything +he'd found out, they'd let him +go—go away again."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence.</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "that about +wraps it up. Any questions?"</p> + +<p>He looked around at the men, but +before any of them could speak up +Her Majesty rose.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure there are questions," she +said, "but I'm really very tired. My +lords, you are excused." She extended +a hand. "Come, Lady Barbara," she +said. "I think I really may need that +nap, now."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Malone put the cuff links in his +shirt with great care. They were great +stones, and Malone thought that they +gave his costume that necessary Elizabethan +flair.</p> + +<p>Not that he was wearing the costume +of the Queen's Court now. Instead, +he was dressed in a tailor-proud +suit of dark blue, a white-on-white +shirt and no tie. He selected one of +a gorgeous peacock pattern from his +closet rack.</p> + +<p>Boyd yawned at him from the bed +in the room they were sharing. "Stepping +out?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I am," Malone said with restraint. +He whipped the tie round his +neck and drew it under the +collar.</p> + +<p>"Anybody I know?"</p> + +<p>"I am meeting Lady Barbara, if you +wish to know," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"Come down," Boyd said. "Relax. +Anyhow, I've got a question for you. +There was one little thing Her Everlovin' +Majesty didn't explain."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Malone.</p> + +<p>"Well, about those hoods who tried +to gun us down," Boyd said. "Who +hired 'em? And why?"</p> + +<p>"Dowson," Malone said. "He +wanted to kill us off, and then kidnap +Logan from the hotel room. But we +foiled his plan—by killing his hoods. +By the time he could work up something +else, we were on our way to +Yucca Flats."</p> + +<p>"Great," Boyd said. "And how did +you find out this startling piece of +information? There haven't been any +reports in from Las Vegas, have +there?"</p> + +<p>"No," Malone said.</p> + +<p>"O.K.," Boyd said. "I give up, +Mastermind."</p> + +<p>Malone wished Boyd would stop +using that nickname. The fact was—as +he, and apparently nobody else, +was willing to recognize—that he +wasn't anything like a really terrific +FBI agent. Even Barbara thought he +was something special.</p> + +<p>He wasn't, he knew.</p> + +<p>He was just lucky.</p> + +<p>"Her Majesty informed me," Malone +said.</p> + +<p>"Her—" Boyd stood with his +mouth dropped open, like a fish waiting +for some bait. "You mean she +knew?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Malone said, "she did +know the guys in the Buick weren't +the best in the business—and she +knew all about the specially-built FBI +Lincoln. She got that from our +minds." He knotted his tie with an +air of great aplomb, and went, slowly +to the door. "And she knew we were +a good team. She got that from our +minds, too."</p> + +<p>"But," Boyd said. After a second +he said: "But," again, and followed +it with: "Why didn't she tell us?"</p> + +<p>Malone opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Her Majesty wished to see the +Queen's Own FBI in action," said Sir +Kenneth Malone.</p> + + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + + + + +<div class="figtran"> +<a href="images/013-2.jpg"><img src="images/013-1.jpg" width="141" height="200" alt="" title="" /></a> +<b><big>Transcriber's Note:</big></b><br /><br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Astounding Science Fiction</i> +September and October 1959. Extensive research did not uncover +any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was +renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected +without note.</div> + +<hr class="hrchp" /> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of That Sweet Little Old Lady, by +Gordon Randall Garrett (AKA Mark Phillips) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT SWEET LITTLE OLD LADY *** + +***** This file should be named 23657-h.htm or 23657-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/6/5/23657/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Stephen Blundell +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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