Occasion for Disaster

teleport to New Yorkhimself. But Luba definitely didn't have to know that.

  "He'd have to send the originals," Luba said.

  "I'll guarantee their safety," Malone said. "But I need the data rightnow."

  Luba hesitated.

  "Tell him to bill the FBI," Malone said. "Call him collect and he canbill the phone call, too."

  "All right, Ken," Luba said at last. "I'll try."

  She went off to make the call, and came back in a few minutes.

  "O.K.?" Malone said.

  She smiled at him, very gently. "O.K.," she said. "Now let's go in todinner, before I get any hungrier and the Great Universal loses someof its paneling."

  Dinner, Malone told himself, was going to be wonderful. He was alonewith Luba, and he was in a fancy, fine, expensive place. He was happy,and Luba was happy, and everything was going to be perfectly frabjous.

  It was. He had no desire whatever, when dinner and the floor show wereover, to leave Luba. Unfortunately, he did have work to do--work thatwas more important than anything else he could imagine. He made atentative date for the next day, went to his room, and from thereteleported himself to FBI Headquarters, New York.

  The agent-in-charge looked up at him. "Hey," he said. "I thought youwere on vacation, Malone."

  "How come everybody knows about me being on vacation?" Malone saidsourly.

  The agent-in-charge shrugged. "The only leave not canceled?" he said."Hell, it was all over the place in five minutes."

  "O.K., O.K.," Malone said. "Don't remind me. Is there a package forme?"

  The agent-in-charge produced a large box. "A messenger brought it," hesaid. "From the Psychical Research Society," he said. "What is it,ghosts?"

  "Dehydrated," Malone said. "Just add ectoplasm and out they come,shouting _Boo!_ at everybody."

  "Sounds wonderful," the agent-in-charge said. "Can I come to theparty?"

  "First," Malone said judiciously, "you'd have to be dead. Of course Ican arrange that--"

  "Thanks," the agent-in-charge said, leaving in a hurry. Malone went ondown to his office and opened the box. It contained books, pamphletsand reports from Sir Lewis, all dealing with some area of telepathicprojection. He spent a few minutes looking them over and trying tomake some connected sense out of them, but finally he gave up and justsat and thought. The material seemed to be no help at all; it told himeven less than Dr. O'Connor had.

  What he needed, he decided, was somebody to talk to. But who? Hecouldn't talk to the FBI, and nobody else knew much about what he wastrying to investigate. He thought of Her Majesty and rejected thenotion with a sigh. No, what he needed was somebody smart and quick,somebody who could be depended on, somebody with training andknowledge.

  And then, very suddenly, he knew who he wanted.

  "Well, now, Sir Kenneth," he said. "Let's put everything together andsee what happens."

  "Indeed," said Sir Kenneth Malone, "it is high time we did so, Sirrah.Proceed: I shall attend."

  * * * * *

  "Let's start from the beginning," Malone said. "We know there'sconfusion in all parts of the country--in all parts of the world, Iguess. And we know that confusion is being caused by carefully timedaccidents and errors. We also know that these errors appear to beaccompanied by violent bursts of psionic static--violent energy. Andwe know, further, that on three specific occasions, these bursts ofenergy were immediately followed by a reversal of policy in the mindof the person on the receiving end."

  "You mean," Sir Kenneth put in, "that these gentlemen changed theiropinions."

  "Correct," Malone said. "I refer, of course, to the firm of Brubitsch,Borbitsch and Garbitsch, Spying Done Cheap."

  "Indeed," Sir Kenneth said. "Then the operators of this strange force,whatever it may prove to be, must have some interest in allowing thespies' confession?"

  "Maybe," Malone said. "Let's leave that for later. To get back to thebeginning of all this: it seems to me to follow that the accidents anderrors which have caused all the confusion throughout the world happenbecause somebody's mind is changed just the right amount at the righttime. A man does something he didn't intend to do--or else he forgetsto do it at all."

  "Ah," Sir Kenneth said. "We have done those things we ought not tohave done; we have left undone those things we ought to have done. Andyou feel, Sirrah, that a telepathic command is the cause of thisconfusion?"

  "A series of them," Malone said. "But we also know, from Dr. O'Connor,that it takes a great deal of psychic energy to perform thisparticular trick--more than a person can normally afford to expend."

  "Marry, now," Sir Kenneth said. "Meseemeth this is not reasonable.Changing the mind of a man indeed seems a small thing in comparison toteleportation, or psychokinesis, or levitation or any such witchery.And yet it take more power than any of these?"

  Malone thought for a second. "Sure it does," he said. "I'd say it wasa matter of resistance. Moving an inanimate object is prettysimple--comparatively, anyhow--because inert matter has no mentalresistance."

  "And moving oneself?" Sir Kenneth said.

  "There's some resistance there, probably," Malone said. "But you'llremember that the Fueyo system of training for teleportation involvedovercoming your own mental resistance to the idea."

  "True," Sir Kenneth said. "'Tis true. Then let us agree that it takesgreat power to effect this change. Where does our course point fromthat agreement, Sirrah?"

  "Next," Malone said, "we have to do a little supposing. This projectmust be handled by a fairly large group, since no individual can do italone. This large group has to be telepathic--and not only for thereasons Dr. O'Connor and I specified."

  "And why else?" Sir Kenneth demanded.

  "They've also got to know exactly when to make this victim of theirschange his mind," Malone said. "Right?"

  "Correct," Sir Kenneth said.

  "We've got to look for a widespread organization of telepaths," Malonesaid, "with enough mental discipline to hold onto a tough mentalshield. Strong, trained, sane men."

  "A difficult assignment," Sir Kenneth commented.

  "Well," Malone said, "suppose you hold on for a second--don't goaway--and let me figure something out."

  "I shall wait," sir Kenneth said, "without."

  "Without what?" Malone murmured. But there was no time for games. Now,then, he told himself--and sneezed.

  He shook his head, cursed softly and went on.

  Now, then....

  * * * * *

  There was an organization, spread all over the Western world, and withwhat were undoubtedly secret branches in the Soviet Union. Theorganization had to be an old one--because it had to have trainedtelepaths, of a high degree of efficiency. And training took time.

  There was something else to consider, too. In order to organize tosuch a degree that they could wreak the complete havoc they werewreaking, the organization couldn't be completely secret; there arealways leaks, always suspicious events, and a society that spent timecovering all of those up would have no time for anything else.

  So the organization had to be a known one, in the Western world atleast--a known group, masquerading as something else.

  So far, everything made sense. Malone frowned and tried to think.Where, he wondered, did he go from here?

  Maybe this time a list would help. He found a pencil and a piece ofpaper, and headed the paper: _Organization_. Then he started puttingdown what he knew about it, and what he'd figured out:

  1. Large2. Old3. Disguised

  It sounded, so far, just a little like Frankenstein's Monster wearinga red wig. But what else did he know about it?

  After a second's thought, he murmured: "Nothing," and put the pencildown.

  But that, he realized, wasn't quite true. He knew one more thing aboutthe organization. He knew they'd probably be immune to the confusioneverybody else was suffering from. The organization would be--had tobe--efficient. It would be composed of intelligent, superblyco-operativ
e people, who could work together as a unit without in theleast impairing their own individuality.

  He reached for the pencil again, and put down:

  4. Efficient

  He looked at it. Now it didn't remind him so much of the Monster. Butit didn't look terribly familiar, either. Who did he know, he thought,who was large, old, disguised and efficient?

  It sounded like an improbable combination. He set the paper down,clearing off some of the