think of next!"But her face sobered in an instant, and she bent forward, almostwhispering the rest: "Gyp! You mean that Fred Plaice took her seriously!That he was trying to get _rid_ of her?"
"He felt it would be better if I never knew about it," I admitted. "Whatdo you think I should do, Anita?"
Her heart-shaped face grew more solemn. "I think it would be bad to tryto cover it up," she decided. "And I'm glad you didn't let Fred do thatto you. Some newscast would be sure to get hold of the story and there'dbe snide accusations. All this talk recently about the heredity of psipowers is bad, too. That's what she's trying to cash in on. And if thepublic thought that the man in charge of catching and pulling the fangsof all the snakes was a hereditary telepath, they'd be after your scalpin no time."
"So?"
"Scotch it. See her, face her down, prove her charge is ridiculous, andship her west."
I smiled a little dimly. "Just one complication."
"Yes, Gyp?"
"This Maude Tinker, says Fred, is a gypsy."
Anita's face did the most abrupt change. I had never seen her furiouslyangry. She's a typical high echelon Washington secretary, cool,extremely well-mannered, cheerful without being bumptious. But this timeshe was downright mad.
"I told you," Anita said.
"What?"
"I told you to watch out for Fred Plaice!"
"It's not his fault," I protested. "Catching telepaths is his job."
"Within limits," she said scornfully. "I thought it was just one more ofhis screwball ideas! He had his whole Section concentrating on gypsies,for a couple of months. He had a long story to go with it, Gyp! How allthe soothsayers and clairvoyants and finders were really short-rangetelepaths or pre-cogs."
"I don't believe it," I said. "You mean that Fred started with mynickname, and has been on this campaign of looking for telepaths amonggypsies just in hopes he could embarrass me?"
"Yes!"
You have to like loyalty, no matter what the circumstances that inciteit.
"I can't believe that of one of my boys, Anita," I said. "Fred was allbroken up about it."
"I bet I can call the turn," Anita said, starting back for her own desk."Fred's next move is to tell you that no one can blame you fordisqualifying yourself from this case. After all, your own mother!"
Well, the political implications _were_ deep. "I think I would agree," Isaid at length. "Let's see what happens. Send this Maude Tinker in assoon as she gets here."
"Aren't you going to take any precautions, Gyp?" Anita demanded.
"Against what?"
"You're impossible," she snapped. "I'll take care of the precautiondepartment myself. And don't you dare let Fred get that woman in hereuntil I get back."
"No what...?"
"Joseph Tinker!" she cried. "Be quiet!" She stormed out.
* * * * *
In about twenty minutes the buzzer on my pix-box sounded, and Idepressed the key. Anita's face was tense on the small screen.
"Just got a flash," she said. "Fred has her in his 'copter and will letdown on the roof in about four or five minutes. I'll need a coupleminutes more than that. Now don't you let him in with her before I getthere, do you hear me?"
I said I heard her. She beat Fred at that. For all I know she hadbooby-trapped them in getting down from the roof. Anita has drag witheverybody in the building, and that could have included the elevatorservice man, who quite easily could have loused service to the roofenough to delay Fred.
Anita came in. "Mr. Tinker," she said crisply. "Meet Tony Carlucci."
I stood up. Tony was a darned good-looking chap, about my age, with verydark hair, somewhat curly, and a flash of white teeth for a smile. Itold him I was pleased to meet him.
"Move over," Anita directed, stepping smartly around my desk and givingmy elbow a sharp yank. "You sit behind the desk, Tony. Now try to looklike a big wheel, for heaven's sake."
"I _am_ a big wheel," Tony protested. "In the used 'copter racket."
Anita was already reaching up to push down on my shoulders. "Won't yousit down?" she demanded. She had me in one of the comfortable chairs Ihave in my office for callers, rather off to one side. She put herselfdown in the chair across my desk from Tony Carlucci, as though she weregetting instructions.
He didn't need much hinting. "Tell the bulls we're gonna clean up theDistrict," he started, waving his hands around. "No more poker. No moredice. No more Sneaky Pete." I'd never heard of that.
"Shut up!" Anita said. "He'll be here any instant."
Fred was as good as her word. He was holding the door for his telepathwithin seconds. Tony Carlucci stopped hamming it up and straightenedimportantly in my chair. I had to admit that Anita had found a guy who,superficially, resembled me more than a little. No one who knew eitherof us would ever mistake one for the other, but our general descriptionswere quite similar.
The woman who came in not only was a gypsy, she was dressed as a gypsy.Her blouse was white, and quite frilly. She had on a billowing redskirt, liberally encrusted with embroidered beads of a darker red. Thetattered hem of a petticoat hung below it. Her hair had been dark once,but it was shot with threads of silver. There was a lot of it, and piledup high so that her ears were exposed. They had pierced lobes, and heavygold rings hung from them.
Instinctively I closed my mind as tight as a clam. The mere sight of atelepath triggers that reaction. Fred closed the door behind him,continuing to stand just behind his captive. She glanced briefly at meand then looked for a longer moment at Tony Carlucci, behind my desk.
"Joe," she said to him. "Joe, don't let them do this to me!"
I don't know how much coaching Anita had given Carlucci, but he knewenough to call her "mother." And I knew enough to watch Fred Plaice theinstant Tony said: "Oh, mother! Why the devil couldn't you keep out ofsight!"
Fred was one mighty confused looking boy. The two-bit word isconsternation. He had it. Anita had given him the business.
"I'm sorry, madame," I said standing and walking over to where Tony wasemoting, with the back of his hand pressed to his eyes. "We threw you acurve. Meet Mr. Tony Carlucci." Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "And I,madame, am Joseph Tinker."
"Joe!" she cried, or wailed is a better word, and threw herself aroundthe desk to seize me in her arms. She smelled faintly of garlic, oreganoand some kind of incense, maybe sandalwood. A nice clean gypsy smell.Cleaner than a lot of gypsies I can think of.
Fred pulled her off me, not too gently. I'd say he was a little soreabout something. Anita's eyes were slits of fury.
"Thanks, Tony," I said. "See you around."
"Honest Tony Carlucci," he said. "If you need a used 'copter, Joe, jeton down to my dock. Nothing down. Listen, I got one that was never usedexcept in the spring by a little old lady who gave up walking for Lent.I'll tell you what I'll do--"
"Wasting your time," Anita told him. "The Government provides Mr. Tinkerwith any kind of transportation he needs. A thousand thanks, Tony. Iwon't forget--" The rest was cut off as she gave him one of the morepolite bum's rushes. I think he would have liked to hang around to seethe rest of our little amateur theatrical.
* * * * *
Fred had his grin going. "Couldn't get the drift for a minute, Gyp," hesaid, clapping me on the shoulder. "Nice work! Now I know why I get sucha kick out of working for you!" He whirled on Maude Tinker. "And you,you foolish old biddy! How far do you think you would get with an actlike this against another telepath?"
She spat a curse at him in Romany. "So smart!" she sneered. "There isn'tanother telepath in the city of Washington!"
That was a laugh. For its own safety the F.B.I. has its own gang of tameTP's--they are all, of course, exceptionally short-range telepaths, andwe practically keep them under lock and key to make sure some importantthoughts don't leak in and out of their diseased minds.
"Send in Freeda Sayer," I said, leaning down to press the intercommute.Freeda is a thick-ankled, thick-headed t
elepath. But stupid or not, sheis telepathic, and _is_ an acid test in these cases.
"Is this woman a telepath?" I asked Freeda, when she stumped in.
Freeda looked at Maude Tinker, her mouth hanging a little open. Shesnuffled and walked quite close to the gypsy woman. "Yeah," she said."She knows I'm thinking her hem is torn." She turned her head with thatlow-thyroid