Brain Twister

bothways.

  And if Burris really were the spy, Malone thought, then why had hestarted the investigation in the first place? You came back to thesame question with Burris, he realized, that you had with Dr.O'Connor: it didn't make sense for a man to play one hand against theother. Maybe the right hand sometimes didn't know what the left handwas doing, but this was ridiculous.

  So Burris wasn't the spy. And Her Majesty had made a mistake whenshe'd said....

  "Wait a minute," Malone told himself suddenly.

  Had she?

  Maybe, after all, you _could_ have it both ways. The thought occurredto him with a startling suddenness and he stood silent upon a peak inYucca Flats, contemplating it. A second went by.

  And then something Burris himself had said came back to him, somethingthat--

  "I'll be damned," he muttered.

  He came to a dead stop in the middle of the street. In one suddenflash of insight, all the pieces of the case he'd been looking at forso long fell together and formed one consistent picture. The patternwas complete.

  Malone blinked.

  In that second, he knew exactly who the spy was.

  A jeep honked raucously and swerved around him. The driver leaned outto curse and Malone waved at him, dimly recognizing a private eye hehad once known, a middle-aged man named Archer. Wondering vaguely whatArcher was doing this far East, and in a jeep at that, Malone watchedthe vehicle disappear down the street. There were more cars coming,but what difference did that make? Malone didn't care about cars.After all, he had the answer, the whole answer....

  "I'll be damned," he said again, abruptly, and wheeled around to headback to the offices.

  On the way, he stopped in at another small office, this one inhabitedby 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 mengrabbing for a phone in a hurry.

  It was good to be _doing_ things again, important things.

  Burris, Boyd and Dr. Gamble were still talking as Malone entered.

  "That," Burris said, "was one hell of a quick lunch. What's HerMajesty doing now--running a diner?"

  Malone ignored the bait, and drew himself to his full height."Gentlemen," he said solemnly, "Her Majesty has asked that all of usattend her in audience. She has information of the utmost gravity toimpart, and wishes this audience at once."

  Dr. Gamble made a puzzled, circular gesture with one hand. "What's thematter?" he asked. "Is something--"

  The hand dropped--"wrong?"

  Burris barely glanced at him. A startled expression came over hisfeatures. "Has she--" he began, and stopped, leaving his mouth openand the rest of the sentence unfinished.

  Malone nodded gravely and drew in a breath. Elizabethan periods werehard on the lungs, he had begun to realize: you needed a lot of airbefore you embarked on a sentence. "I believe, gentlemen," he said,"that Her Majesty is about to reveal the identity of the spy who hasbeen battening on Project Isle."

  The silence lasted no more than three seconds. Dr. Gamble didn't evenmake a gesture during that time. Then Burris spoke.

  "Let's go," he snapped. He wheeled and headed for the door. The otherspromptly followed.

  "Gentlemen!" Malone said, sounding, as far as he could tell, properlyshocked and offended. "Your dress!"

  "What?" Dr. Gamble said, throwing up both hands.

  "Oh, _no_," Boyd chimed in. "Not now."

  Burris simply said: "You're quite right. Get dressed, Boyd--I mean, ofcourse, Sir Thomas."

  While they were dressing, Malone put in a call to Dr. O'Connor'soffice. The scientist was as frosty as ever.

  "Yes, Mr. Malone?" The sound of that voice, Malone reflected, wasenough to give anybody double revolving pneumonia with knobs on.

  "Dr. O'Connor," he said, "Her Majesty wants you in her court in tenminutes--and in full court dress."

  O'Connor merely sighed, like Boreas. "What is this," he asked, "moretomfoolery?"

  "I really couldn't say," Malone told him coyly. "But I'd advise you tobe there. It might interest you."

  "Interest me?" O'Connor stormed. "I've got work to do here--importantwork. You simply do not realize, Mr. Malone--"

  "Whatever I realize," Malone cut in, feeling brave, "I'm passing onorders from Her Majesty."

  "That insane woman," O'Connor stated flatly, "is not going to order meabout. Good Lord, do you know what you're saying?"

  Malone nodded. "I certainly do," he said cheerfully. "If you'd rather,I can have the orders backed up by the United States Government. Butthat won't be necessary, will it?"

  "The United States Government," O'Connor said, thawing perceptiblyabout the edges, "ought to allow a man to do his proper work, and notforce him to go chasing off after the latest whims of some insane oldlady."

  "You will be there, now, won't you?" Malone asked. His own voicereminded him of something, and in a second he had it: the cooing,gentle persuasion of Dr. Andrew Blake of Rice Pavilion, who had lockedMalone in a padded cell. It was the voice of a man talking to a mentalcase.

  It sounded remarkably apt. Dr. O'Connor went slightly purple, butcontrolled himself magnificently. "I'll be there," he said.

  "Good," Malone told him, and snapped the phone off.

  Then he put in a second call to the psychiatrists from St. Elizabethsand told them the same thing. More used to the strange demands ofneurotic and psychotic patients, they were readier to comply.

  Everyone, Malone realized with satisfaction, was now assembling.Burris and the others were ready to go, sparklingly dressed andlooking impatient. Malone put down the phone and took one great breathof relief.

  Then, beaming, he led the others out.

  * * * * *

  Ten minutes later, there were nine men in Elizabethan costume standingoutside the room which had been designated as the Queen's Court. Dr.Gamble's costume did not quite fit him; his sleeve-ruffs were half wayup to his elbows and his doublet had an unfortunate tendency to creep.The St. Elizabeths men, all four of them, looked just a little likemoth-eaten versions of old silent pictures. Malone looked them overwith a somewhat sardonic eye. Not only did he have the answer to thewhole problem that had been plaguing them, but _his_ costume was astunning, perfect fit.

  "Now, I want you men to let me handle this," Malone said. "I know justwhat I want to say, and I think I can get the information without toomuch trouble."

  One of the psychiatrists spoke up. "I trust you won't disturb thepatient, Mr. Malone," he said.

  "Sir Kenneth," Malone snapped.

  The psychiatrist looked both abashed and worried. "I'm sorry," he saiddoubtfully.

  Malone nodded. "That's all right," he said. "I'll try not to disturbHer Majesty unduly."

  The psychiatrists conferred. When they came out of the huddle one ofthem--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 feelyou're--ah--going too far."

  Malone said: "That's fair enough, gentlemen. Let's go."

  He opened the door.

  It was a magnificent room. The whole place had been done over inplastic and synthetic fibers to look like something out of theSixteenth Century. It was as garish, and as perfect, as a Hollywoodmovie set--which wasn't surprising, since two stage designers had beenhired away from color-TV spectaculars to set it up. At the far end ofthe room, past the rich hangings and the flaming chandeliers, was agreat throne, and on it Her Majesty was seated. Lady Barbara reclinedon the steps at her feet.

  Malone saw the expression on Her Majesty's face. He wanted to talk toBarbara--but there wasn't time. Later, there might be. Now, hecollected his mind and drove one thought at the Queen, one singlepowerful thought:

  _Read me! You know by this time that I have the truth_--_but readdeeper!_

  The expression on her face changed suddenly. She was smiling a sad,gentle little smile. Lady Barbara, who had looked up at the approachof Sir Kenneth and his entourage, relaxed again, but her e
yes remainedon Malone. "You may approach, my lords," said the Queen.

  Sir Kenneth led the procession, with Sir Thomas and Sir Andrew closebehind him. O'Connor and Gamble came next, and bringing up the rearwere the four psychiatrists. They strode slowly along the red carpetthat stretched from the door to the foot of the throne. They came to ahalt a few feet from the steps leading up to the throne, and bowed inunison.

  "You may explain, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said.

  "Your Majesty understands the conditions?" Malone asked.

  "Perfectly," said the Queen. "Proceed."

  Now the expression on Barbara's face changed, to wonder and a kind offright. Malone didn't look at her. Instead, he turned to Dr. O'Connor.

  "Dr. O'Connor, what are your plans for the telepaths who have beenbrought here?" He shot the question out quickly, and O'Connor wascaught off-balance.

  "Well--ah--we would like their cooperation in further research whichwe--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 agreat deal of help." He gave Malone an odd look. It seemed to say:_What's coming next?_

  Malone simply gave him a nod, and a "Thank you, Doctor," and turned toBurris. He could feel Barbara's eyes on him, but he went on with hisprepared questions. "Chief," he said, "what about you? After we nailour spy, what happens--to Her Majesty, I mean? You don't intend tostop giving her the homage due her, do you?"

  Burris stared, openmouthed. After a second he managed to say: "Why,no, of course not, Sir Kenneth. That is--" and he glanced over at thepsychiatrists--"if the doctors think...."

  There was another hurried consultation. The four psychiatrists cameout of it with a somewhat shaky statement to the effect thattreatments which had been proven to have some therapeutic value oughtnot to be discontinued, although of course there was always the chancethat....

  "Thank you, gentlemen," Malone said smoothly. He could see that theywere nervous, and no wonder; he could imagine how difficult it was fora psychiatrist to talk about a patient in her presence. But they'dalready realized that it didn't make any difference; their thoughtswere an open book, anyway.

  Lady Barbara said: "Sir--I mean Ken--are you going to--"

  "What's this all about?" Burris snapped.

  "Just a minute, Sir Andrew," Malone said. "I'd like to ask one of thedoctors here--or all of them, for that matter--one more question." Hewhirled and faced them. "I'm assuming that not one of these persons islegally responsible for his or her actions. Is that correct?"

  Another hurried huddle. The psych boys were beginning to remind Maloneof a semi-pro football team in rather unusual uniforms.

  Finally one of them said: "You are correct. According to the lateststatutes, all of these persons are legally insane--including HerMajesty." He paused and gulped. "I except the FBI, of course--andourselves." Another pause. "And Dr. O'Connor and Dr. Gamble."

  "And," said Lady Barbara, "me." She smiled sweetly at them all.

  "Ah," the psychiatrist said. "Certainly. Of course." He retired intohis group with some confusion.

  Malone was looking straight at the throne. Her Majesty's countenancewas serene and unruffled.

  Barbara said suddenly: "You don't mean--but she--" and closed hermouth. Malone shot her one quick look, and then turned to the Queen.

  "Well, Your Majesty?" he said. "You have seen the thoughts of everyman here. How do they appear to you?"

  Her voice contained both tension and relief. "They are all good men,basically--and kind men," she said. "And they believe us. That's theimportant thing, you know. Their belief in us.... Just as you saidthat first day we met. We've needed belief for so long ... for solong...." Her voice trailed off; it seemed to become lost in aconstellation of thoughts. Barbara had turned to look up at HerMajesty.

  Malone took a step forward, but Burris interrupted him. "How about thespy?" he said.

  Then his eyes widened. Boyd, standing next to him, leaned suddenlyforward. "That's why you mentioned all that about legal immunitybecause of insanity," he whispered. "Because--"

  "No," Barbara said. "No. She couldn't--she's not--"

  They were all looking at Her Majesty, now. She returned them stare forstare, her back stiff and straight and her white hair enhaloed in theroom's light. "Sir Kenneth," she said--and her voice was only theleast bit unsteady--"they all think _I'm_ the spy."

  Barbara stood up. "Listen," she said. "I didn't like Her Majesty atfirst--well, she was a patient, and that was all, and when she startedputting 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--becauseshe wouldn't be a spy. She couldn't be. No matter what any of youthink--even you--Sir Kenneth!"

  There was a second of silence.

  "Of course she's not," Malone said quietly. "She's no spy."

  "Would I spy on my own subjects?" she said. "Use your reason!"

  "You mean--" Burris began, and Boyd finished for him:

  "--she isn't?"

  "No," Malone snapped. "She isn't. Remember, you said it would take atelepath to catch a telepath?"

  "Well--" Burris began.

  "Well, Her Majesty remembered it," Malone said. "And acted on it."

  Barbara remained standing. She went to the Queen and put an arm aroundthe little old lady's shoulder. Her Majesty did not object. "I knew,"she said. "You couldn't have been a spy."

  "Listen, dear," the Queen said. "Your Kenneth has seen the truth ofthe matter. Listen to him."

  "Her Majesty not only caught the spy," Malone said, "but she turnedthe spy right over to us."

  He turned at once and went back down the long red carpet to the door._I really ought to get a sword_, he thought, and didn't see HerMajesty smile. He opened the door with a great flourish and saidquietly: "Bring him in, boys."

  The FBI men from Las Vegas marched in. Between them was theirprisoner, a boy with a vacuous face, clad in a straitjacket thatseemed to make no difference at all to him. His mind was--somewhereelse. But his body was trapped between the FBI agents: the body ofWilliam Logan.

  "Impossible," one of the psychiatrists said.

  Malone spun on his heel and led the way back to the throne. Logan andhis guards followed closely.

  "Your Majesty," Malone said. "May I present the prisoner?"

  "Perfectly correct, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said. "Poor Willie is yourspy. You won't be too hard on him, will you?"

  "I don't think so, Your Majesty," Malone said. "After all--"

  "Now wait a minute," Burris exploded. "How the hell did _you_ know anyof this?"

  Malone bowed to Her Majesty, and winked at Barbara. He turned toBurris. "Well," he said, "I had one piece of information none of therest of you had. When we were in the Desert Edge Sanatorium, Dr.Dowson called you on the phone. Remember?"

  "Sure I remember," Burris said. "So?"

  "Well," Malone said, "Her Majesty said she knew just where the spywas. I asked her where--"

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Burris screamed. "You knew all this time andyou didn't tell me?"

  "Hold on," Malone said. "I asked her where--and she said: 'He's rightthere.' And she was pointing right at your image on the screen."

  Burris opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He closed it and triedagain. At last he managed one word.

  "Me?" he said.

  "You," Malone said. "But that's what I realized later. She wasn'tpointing at you. She was pointing at Logan, who was in the next room."

  Barbara whispered: "Is that right, Your Majesty?"

  "Certainly, dear," the Queen said calmly. "Would I lie to SirKenneth?"

  Malone was still talking. "The thing that set me off this noon wassomething you said, Sir Andrew," he went on. "You said there weren'tany sane telepaths--remember?"

  Burris, incapable of speech, merely nodded.

  "But according to Her Majesty," Malone said, "we had every telepath inthe United States righ
t here. She told me that--and I didn't even seeit!"

  "Don't blame yourself, Sir Kenneth," the Queen put in. "I did do mybest to mislead you, you know."

  "You sure did!" Malone said. "And later on, when we were driving here,she said the spy was 'moving around.' That's right; he was in the carbehind us, going eighty miles an hour."

  Barbara stared. Malone got a lot of satisfaction out of that stare.But there was still more ground to cover.

  "Then," he said, "she told us he was here at Yucca Flats--after webrought him here! It had to be one of the other six telepaths."

  The psychiatrist who'd muttered: "Impossible," was still muttering it.Malone ignored him.

  "And when I