old lady.
4
"You're _where_?" Andrew J. Burris said.
Malone looked at the surprised face on the screen and wished he hadn'tcalled. 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.
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--"
"Las Vegas," Burris said. "Well, well. Las Vegas." His face darkenedand his voice became very loud. "Why aren't you in Yucca Flats?" hescreamed.
"Because she insisted on it," Malone said. "The old lady. MissThompson. She says there's another telepath here."
Burris closed his eyes. "Well, that's a relief," he said at last."Somebody in one of the gambling houses, I suppose. Fine, Malone." Hewent right on without a pause: "The boys have uncovered two more invarious parts of the nation. Not one of them is even close to sane."He opened his eyes. "Where's this one?" he said.
Malone sighed. "In the looney bin," he said.
Burris' eyes closed again. Malone waited in silence. At last Burrissaid: "All right. Get him out."
"Right," Malone said.
"Tell me," Burris said. "Why did Miss Thompson insist that you go toLas Vegas? Somebody else could have done the job. You could have sentBoyd, couldn't you?"
"Chief," Malone said slowly, "what sort of mental condition are thoseother telepaths in?"
"Pretty bad," Burris said. "As a matter of fact, very bad. MissThompson may be off her trolley, but the others haven't even got anytracks." He paused. "What's that got to do with it?" he said.
"Well," Malone said, "I figured we'd better handle Miss Thompson withkid gloves--at least until we find a better telepath to work with." Hedidn't mention Barbara Wilson. The chief, he told himself, didn't wantto be bothered with details.
"Doggone right you'd better," Burris said. "You treat that old lady asif she were the Queen herself, understand?"
"Don't worry," Malone said unhappily. "We are." He hesitated. "Shesays she'll help us find our spy, all right, but we've got to do ither way--or else she won't cooperate."
"Do it her way, then," Burris said. "That spy--"
"Chief, are you sure?"
Burris blinked. "Well, then," he said, "what _is_ her way?"
Malone took a deep breath. "First," he said, "we had to come here andpick this guy up. This William Logan, who's in a private sanitariumjust outside of Las Vegas. That's number one. Miss Thompson wants toget all the telepaths together, so they can hold mental conversationsor something."
"And all of them batty," Burris said.
"Sure," Malone said. "A convention of nuts--and me in the middle.Listen, Chief--"
"Later," Burris said. "When this is over we can all resign, or gofishing, or just plain shoot ourselves. But right now the nationalsecurity is primary, Malone. Remember that."
"Okay," Malone sighed. "Okay. But she wants all the nuts here."
"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 fromYucca Flats. If she wants something, Malone, you do it."
"But, Chief--"
"Don't interrupt me," Burris said. "If she wants to be treated like aQueen, you treat her like one. Malone, that's an order!"
"Yes, sir," Malone said sadly. "But, Chief, she wants us to buy hersome new clothes."
"My God," Burris exploded. "Is that all? New clothes? Get 'em. Put 'emon the expense account. New clothes are a drop in the bucket."
"Well--she thinks we need new clothes, too."
"Maybe you do," Burris said. "Put the whole thing on the expenseaccount. You don't think I'm going to quibble about a few dollars, doyou?"
"Well--"
"Get the clothes. Just don't bother me with details like this. Handlethe job yourself, Malone--you're in charge out there. And get to YuccaFlats as soon as possible."
Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he said.
"All right, then," Burris said. "Call me tomorrow. Meanwhile--goodluck, Malone. Chin up."
Malone said: "Yes, sir," and reached for the switch. But Burris' voicestopped him.
"Just one thing," he said.
"Yes, Chief?" Malone said.
Burris frowned. "Don't spend any more for the clothes than you haveto," he said.
Malone nodded, and cut off.
When the Director's image had vanished, he got up and went to thewindow of the hotel room. Outside, a huge sign told the world, andMalone, that this was the Thunderbird-Hilton-Zeckendorf Hotel, butMalone ignored it. He didn't need a sign; he knew where he was.
In hot water, he thought. _That's_ where he was.
Behind him, the door opened. Malone turned as Boyd came in.
"I found a costume shop, Ken," he said.
"Great," Malone said. "The Chief authorized it."
"He did?" Boyd's round face fell at the news.
"He said to buy her whatever she wants. He says to treat her like aQueen."
"That," Boyd said, "we're doing now."
"I know it," Malone said. "I know it altogether too well."
"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, "the costume shop doesn't do us anygood. They've only got cowboy stuff and bullfighters' costumes andMexican stuff--you know, for their Helldorado Week here."
"You didn't give up, did you?" Malone said.
Boyd shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "Ken: this is on theexpense account, isn't it?"
"Expense account," Malone said. "Sure it is."
Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he said. "Because I had the proprietorphone her size in, to New York."
"Better get two of 'em," Malone said. "The Chief said anything shewanted, she was supposed to have."
"I'll go back right away. I told him we wanted the stuff on theafternoon plane, so--"
"And give him Bar--Miss Wilson's size, and yours, and mine. Tell himto dig up something appropriate."
"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly. "For us," Malone said grimly.
Boyd set his jaw. "No," he said.
"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."
"But," Boyd said, and stopped. After a second he went on: "Malone--Ken--FBI agents are supposed to be inconspicuous, aren't they?"
Malone nodded.
"Well, how inconspicuous are we going to be in this stuff?"
"It's an idea," Malone said. "But it isn't a very good one. Our firstjob is to keep Miss Thompson happy. And that means costumes."
Boyd said: "My God."
"And what's more," Malone added, "from now on she's 'Your Majesty.'Got that?"
"Ken," Boyd said, "you've gone nuts."
Malone shook his head. "No, I haven't," he said. "I just wish I had.It would be a relief."
"Me too," Boyd said. He started for the door and turned. "I wish Icould have stayed in San Francisco," he said. "Why should she insiston taking _me_ along?"
"The beard," Malone said. "My beard?" Boyd recoiled.
"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."
Boyd gulped. "I'll shave it off," he said, with the air of a man whocan do no more to propitiate the Gods.
"You will not," Malone said firmly. "Touch but a hair of yon blackchin, and I'll peel off your entire skin."
Boyd winced.
"Now," Malone said, "go back to that costume shop and arrange things.Here." He fished in his pockets and came out with a crumpled slip ofpaper and handed it to Boyd. "That's a list of my clothing sizes. Getanother list from B--Miss Wilson." Boyd nodded. Malone thought hedetected a strange glint in the other man's eye. "Don't measure heryourself," he said. "Just ask her."
Boyd scratched his bearded chin and nodded slowly. "All right, Ken,"he said. "But if we just don't get anywhere,