hadclosed behind Fred and Mother.
"You were right about Fred, Anita," I said. "Thank you for saving mylife."
"Oh, Gyp," she said, tears trying to brim over her eyelids. "He's such acutthroat!"
"Sure," I said. "But now we know it. Get me an appointment with GeorgeKelly, will you, Anita?"
She compressed her lips. "That's more like it!" she said angrily. "GetFred kicked clear out of the Bureau. George Kelly is a great Director,Gyp, and he'll do it if you insist."
"Maybe," I said. I stewed over what to tell the boss until Anita cameback in.
"Mr. Kelly can see you now, Mr. Tinker," she said, all calmed downagain.
I got up and came around the desk and took her by the elbow, standing atmy door. "Just in case," I said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on thelips. "I love you, too."
"Too?" she said.
I froze. It was the kind of slip that sooner or later trips up everysnake. My grin was a sick one. I walked out without another word.
* * * * *
The Director's office is on the fourth floor, I climbed the singleflight, and his girl let me in. George affects long slim cigars. I sayaffects. He seldom lights them, but he waves them like batons,conducting some kind of a symphony of words and ideas all day.
"Welcome, stranger," he said, calling on the fiddles for a littlepizzicato. "What's up, Gyp?"
I sat down across from him at his desk and tried to put a smile on myface. "I want to submit my resignation, George," I said. "Effectiveimmediately."
"Not accepted," he said, without a second thought. Then his face grewsolemn. "What's this about?" he demanded. "I can't lose _you_, Gyp. Myright bower!"
"One favor," I said, not answering him. "Don't move Fred Plaice up to myold spot. Any of the other Section Chiefs, but not Fred."
"Well, well," George said, whipping up the brasses with his cigar."This begins to sound like cause and effect." He hushed the wholeorchestra to a whisper. "I thought Fred was your fair-haired boy, Gyp.You two get in a hassle?"
I shook my head. "Not directly, George," I told him. "I want you to knowtwo things. They'll explain why I'm quitting. My mother is a telepath.We arrested her early this morning, here in the District. I justsentenced her to transportation and detention in Oklahoma."
"Good heavens," he gasped. "Your own mother! Gyp, no wonder you'reupset. Didn't you know she was a snake?"
My smile was a little tired. "Of course I knew," I told him. "I ran awayfrom home at thirteen to get away from having her inside my head all thetime. That's how I learned to close my mind--closing her out as much asI could. The power got stronger as I grew older."
"It's embarrassing," George said, turning away from me to look out thewindow. "To have you, of all people, Gyp, with telepathic heredity.Still, if no one knows, and since you've never had the slightestmanifestation of psi powers yourself, there may be some way we canpreserve your usefulness."
"Today, within the last half hour, George, my latent telepathic abilitybecame manifest. George, I'm a snake."
His face froze. Then the batonlike cigar stopped its movement. He waslike a statue. The pose broke, and he pressed a button.
"Send Carol Lundgren in," he ordered. I knew Carol, another short-rangetelepath that George used as his private lie-detector.
Carol was at my elbow in a moment or so. George wasted no words. "Carol,is there a telepath in this room?" he asked.
Carol grinned. "Yep," he said to the enforced silence. "There is."George Kelly's face fell. "His name is Carol Lundgren," the kid went on."Next question?"
George looked as though he could have brained him. "All right, youPhiladelphia lawyer," he grumbled. "Besides yourself, Carol, is there atelepath in this room?"
"No, Mr. Kelly, there is not."
"Get out, and don't scare me like that again." George told him.
I didn't get it. I said so: "George, I don't get it. I read my mother'sthoughts, and for that matter, Fred Plaice's thoughts, too. That's why Iasked you not to give him my job. I swear to you I can read thoughts."
"So?"
"If I _know_ I'm a telepath, Carol should be able to read the thoughtthat I know it," I protested.
"You're like me," George Kelly said. "You automatically close your mindin the presence of a telepath. It's pure reflex now. Carol couldn't reada thing because you clammed your thoughts the instant he walked in."
"That was _then_!" I yelled at him. "_Before_ my psi powers becamemanifest. You know that a telepath can't close his mind! Why couldn'tCarol read my thoughts?"
_Well_, George thought, _he couldn't read mine either, could he?_
_No_, I thought. _He couldn't. He ... George!_ my mind shrieked at him.
Somebody kicked the props out from under my world. _George Kelly was asnake!_
_Don't be silly_, he thought. _I'm no more a snake than you are, Gyp._
_But you're a telepath!_
_So are you, Gyp_, he thought. _The only kind of telepath that reallycounts. You can read minds, but others can't read yours._
I fell back on words, closing my mind--it was rattling so I didn't wantGeorge to read my thoughts: "But a telepath _can't_ close his mind!" Iprotested.
"I hope the Russians are as sure of that as you are, Gyp," Georgegrinned. "The only agents we have in Russia are closed-mindtelepaths--telepaths who don't automatically give themselves away. Now_that_ kind of a telepath really _is_ a usable espionage agent or a safelink in a communications net."
"How long has this been going on?"
"About three years, Gyp. When we discovered that certain training couldmake some telepaths closed-mind operators, we got the President topromulgate the Executive Orders that Congress later made into law. Wegot all ordinary telepaths out of circulation and put to work those thatwe could train to closed-mind operation. Now you know why I won't takeyour resignation."
I sputtered. "George, how can I conscientiously crack down on these poorpeople, if I'm a TP myself?"
He grinned. "You won't. You'll still be doing just what you've alwaysbeen doing, except now you'll _know_ that you're doing it. You'll berecruiting telepaths for us. Where do you think we train them?"
"Oklahoma? The Detention area?"
"Sure. Where else? Now relax. But for heaven's sake, don't ever leakthis. We feel sure the Russians haven't discovered this business ofclosed-mind telepaths yet. Some day, I suppose, they will. It may take along time. The self-realized closed-mind telepath like you, Gyp, is ararity. Mostly we have to train people rigorously for it. It took yourmother over two years to learn it."
"My mother!"
"Sure. Why did you think she was in Washington? She's part of theSevastopol, Teheran and Cairo communications network."
"George," I insisted. "Something is shaky. If she's on the inside, howdid she ever get picked up?"
He laughed. "Just part of her cover. Fred Plaice got too close. We knowwhat he is, Gyp. But we didn't dare to have him guess what your motherwas. She's on her way to a nice California vacation. New assignmentafter that. Maybe middle Europe. After all, she _is_ a gypsy. Ought togo well, say, in Bulgaria!"
THE END
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Analog_ July 1961. 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.
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