don't know what to say. All this time, all these years, she's beenreading my mind! My mind. She's been reading ... looking right intomy mind, or whatever it is."
"Whatever what is?" Malone asked, sincerely interested. He had droppedgratefully into a chair near Boyd's, across the desk from Dr. Harman.
"Whatever my _mind_ is," Dr. Harmon said. "Reading it. Oh, my."
"Dr. Harman," Malone began, but the psychiatrist gave him a brightblank stare.
"Don't you understand?" he said. "She's a telepath."
"We--"
The phone on Dr. Harman's desk chimed gently. He glanced at it andsaid: "Excuse me. The phone." He picked up the receiver and said:"Hello?"
There was no image on the screen.
But the voice was image enough. "This is Andrew J. Burris," it said."Is Kenneth J. Malone there?"
"Mr. Malone?" the psychiatrist said. "I mean, Mr. Burris? Mr. Maloneis here. Yes. Oh, my. Do you want to talk to him?"
"No, you idiot," the voice said. "I just want to know if he's alltucked in."
"Tucked in?" Dr. Harman gave the phone a sudden smile. "A joke," hesaid. "It is a joke, isn't it? The way things have been happening, younever know whether--"
"A joke," Burris' voice said. "That's right. Yes. Am I talking to oneof the patients?"
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.
The FBI agent said: "Hello, Chief. Things are a little confused."
Burris' face appeared on the screen. "Confused, sure," he said. "Ifeel confused already." He took a breath. "I called the San Franciscooffice, and they told me you and Boyd were out there. What's goingon?"
Malone said cautiously: "We've found a telepath."
Burris' eyes widened slightly. "Another one?"
"What are you talking about, another one?" Malone said. "We have one.Does anybody else have any more?"
"Well," Burris said, "we just got a report on another one--maybe.Besides yours, I mean."
"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 QueenElizabeth I. She's a telepath, sure, but she's nuts."
"Queen Elizabeth?" Burris said. "Of England?"
"That's right," Malone said. He held his breath.
"Damn it," Burris exploded, "they've already got one!"
Malone sighed. "This is another one," he said. "Or, rather, theoriginal one. She also claims she's immortal."
"Lives forever?" Burris said. "You mean like that?"
"Immortal," Malone said. "Right."
Burris nodded. Then he looked worried. "Tell me, Malone," he said."She _isn't_, is she?"
"Isn't immortal, you mean?" Malone said. Burris nodded. Malone saidconfidently: "Of course not."
There was a little pause. Malone thought things over.
Hell, maybe she was immortal. Stranger things had happened, hadn'tthey?
He looked over at Dr. Harman. "How about that?" he said. "Could she beimmortal?"
The psychiatrist shook his head decisively. "She's been here for overforty years, Mr. Malone, ever since her late teens. Her records showall that, and her birth certificate is in perfect order. Not achance."
Malone sighed and turned back to the phone. "Of course she isn'timmortal, Chief," he said. "She couldn't be. Nobody is. Just a nut."
"I was afraid of that," Burris said. "Afraid?" Malone said.
Burris nodded. "We've got another one, or anyhow we think we have," hesaid. "If he checks out, that is. Right here in Washington."
"Not at--Rice Pavilion?" Malone asked.
"No," Burris said absently. "St. Elizabeths."
Malone sighed. "Another nut?"
"Strait-jacket case," Burris said. "Delusions of persecution, theytell me, and paranoia, and a whole lot of other things that soundnasty as hell. I can't pronounce any of them, and that's always a badsign."
"Can he talk?" Malone said.
"Who knows?" Burris told him, and shrugged. "I'm sending him on out toYucca Flats anyhow, under guard. You might find a use for him."
"Oh, sure," Malone said. "We can use him as a horrible example.Suppose he can't talk, or do anything? Suppose he turns violent?Suppose--"
"We can't afford to overlook a thing," Burris said, looking stern.
Once again, Malone sighed deeply. "I know," he said. "But all thesame--"
"Don't worry about a thing, Malone," Burris said with a palpably falseair of confidence. "Everything is going to be perfectly all right." Helooked like a man trying very hard to sell the Brooklyn Bridge to aborn New Yorker. "You get this Queen Elizabeth of yours out of thereand take her to Yucca Flats, too," he added.
Malone considered the possibilities that were opening up. Maybe, afterall, they were going to find more telepaths. And maybe all thetelepaths would be nuts. When he thought about it, that didn't seem atall unlikely. He imagined himself with a talent nobody would believehe had.
A thing like that, he told himself glumly, could drive you buggy inshort order--and then where were you?
In a loony bin, that's where you were.
Or, possibly, in Yucca Flats. Malone pictured the scene: there theywould be, just one big happy family. Kenneth J. Malone, and aconvention of bats straight out of the nation's foremost loony bins.
Fun!
Malone began to wonder why he had gone into FBI work in the firstplace.
"Listen, Chief," he said. "I--"
"Sure, I understand," Burris said quickly. "She's batty. And this newone is batty, too. But what else can we do? Malone, don't do anythingyou'll regret."
"Regret?" Malone said. "Like what?"
"I mean, don't resign."
"Chief, how did you know--you're not telepathic too, are you?"
"Of course not," Burris said. "But that's what I'd do in your place."
"Well--"
"Remember, Malone," Burris said. His face took on a stern, stuffedexpression. "Do not ask what your country can do for you," he quotedthe youngest living ex-President. "Ask rather what you can do for yourcountry."
"Sure," Malone said sadly.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Burris asked.
"What if it is?" Malone said. "It's still terrible. Everything isterrible. Look at the situation."
"I am looking," Burris said. "And it's another New Frontier. Just likeit was when President Kennedy first said those words."
"A New Frontier inhabited entirely by maniacs," Malone said."Perfectly wonderful. What a way to run a world."
"That," Burris said, "is the way the ball bounces. Or whatever you'resupposed to say. Malone, don't think you haven't got my sympathy. Youhave. I know how hard the job is you're doing."
"You couldn't," Malone told him bitterly.
"Well, anyhow," Burris went on, "don't resign. Stay on the job. Don'tgive it up, Malone. Don't desert the ship. I want you to promise meyou won't do it."
"Look, chief," Malone said. "These nuts--"
"Malone, you've done a wonderful job so far," Burris said. "You'll geta raise and a better job when all this is over. Who else would havethought 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 touse them now. We have to find that spy!" He took a breath. "On toYucca Flats!" he said.
Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he said. "Anything else?"
"Not right now," Burris said. "If there is, I'll let you know."
Malone hung up unhappily as the image vanished. He looked across atDr. Harman. "Well," he said, "that's that. What do I have to do to geta release for Miss Thompson?"
Harman stared at him. "But, Mr. Malone," he said, "that just isn'tpossible. Really. Miss Thompson is a ward of the state, and wecouldn't possibly allow her release without a court order."
Malone thought that over. "Okay," he said at