"Where are they?Where do I pick them up?"
"Box office," the A-in-C said sourly. "I tell you, everybody inWashington must be nuts. The things I have to go through--"
"Thanks," Malone said. "Thanks a lot. Thanks a million. If there'sever anything I can do for you, let me know and I'll do it." He hungup and went back to the bar, walking very carefully.
"Well?" Dorothy said. "Where do we go tonight? Joe's hot-dog stand? Ora revival of _The Wild Duck_ in a loft on Bleecker Street?"
There was pride in Malone's manner as he stood there on his feet.There was just a touch of hauteur as he said, "We'll see _Hot Seat_."
And he was repaid for all of the Agent-in-Charge's efforts. Dorothy'seyes went wide with appreciation and awe. "My goodness," she said. "Aman of his word--and what a tough word, too! Mr. Malone, Icongratulate you."
"Nothing," Malone said. "A mere absolute nothing."
"Nothing, the man says," Dorothy muttered. "My goodness. And modest,too. Tell me, how do you do, Mr. Malone?"
"Me?" Malone said. "Very well, so far." He finished his drink. "Andyou?"
"I work at it," she said cryptically.
"May I have another drink?"
Malone gave her a grin. "Another?" he said. "Have two. Have a dozen."
"And what," she said, "would I do with a dozen drinks? Don't answer. Ithink I can guess. But let's just take them one at a time, okay?" Shesignaled to the bartender. "Wally, I'll have a martini. And Mr. Malonewill have whatever it is he has, I imagine."
"Bourbon and soda," Malone said, and gave the bartender a grin too,just to make sure he didn't feel left out. The sun was shining(although it was evening outside), and the birds were singing(although, Malone reflected, catching a bird on 42nd Street andBroadway might take a bit of doing), and all was well with the world.
There was only a tiny, nagging, disturbing thought in his mind. It hadto do with Mike Fueyo and the Silent Spooks, and a lot of redCadillacs. But he pushed it resolutely away. It had nothing to do withthe evening he was about to spend. Nothing at all.
After all, this _was_ supposed to be a vacation, wasn't it?
"Well, Mr. Malone," Dorothy said, when the drinks had arrived.
"Very well indeed," Malone said, raising his. "And just call me Ken.Didn't I tell you that once before?"
"You did," she said. "And I asked you to call me Dorothy. Not Dotty.Try and remember that."
"I will remember it," Malone said, "just as long as ever I live. Youdon't look the least bit dotty, anyhow. Which is probably more thananybody could say for me." He started to look at himself in the barmirror again, and decided not to. "By the way," he added, as a suddenthought struck him. "Dotty what?"
"Now," she said. "There you go doing it."
"Doing what?"
"Calling me that name."
"Oh," Malone said. "Make it Dorothy. Dorothy what?" He blinked. "Imean, I know you've got a last name. Dorothy Something. Only itprobably isn't Something. What is it?"
"Francis," she said obligingly. "Dorothy Francis. My middle name isSomething, in case you ever want to call me by my middle name. Justyell, 'Hey, Something,' and I'll come a-running. Unless I havesomething else to do. In which case everything will be very simple: Iwon't come."
"Ah," Malone said doubtfully. "And what do--"
"What do I do?" she said. "A standard question. Number two of aseries. I do modeling. Photographic modeling. And that's not all; Ialso do commercials on 3-D. If I look familiar to you, it's probablybecause you've seen me on 3-D. Do I look familiar to you?"
"I never watch 3-D," Malone said, crestfallen.
"Fine," Dorothy said unexpectedly. "You have excellent taste."
"Well," Malone said, "it's just that I never seem to get the time--"
"Don't apologize for it," Dorothy said. "I have to appear on it, but Idon't have to like it. And now that I've answered your questions, howabout answering some of mine."
"Gladly," Malone said. "The inmost secrets of the FBI are yours forthe asking."
"Hmm," Dorothy said slowly. "What do you do as an FBI agent, anyhow?Dig up spies?"
"Oh, no," Malone said. "We've got enough trouble with the live ones.We don't go around digging anybody up. Believe me." He paused, feelingdimly that the conversation was beginning to get out of control. "HaveI told you that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever met?" hesaid at last.
"No," Dorothy said. "Not yet, anyway. But I was expecting it."
"You were?" Malone said, disappointed.
"Certainly," Dorothy said. "You've been drinking. As a matter of fact,you've managed to get quite a head start."
Malone hung his head guiltily. "True," he said in a low voice. "Tootrue. Much too true."
Dorothy nodded, downed her drink and waved to the bartender. "Wally,bring me a double this time."
"A double?"
"Sure," Dorothy said. "I've got to do some fast catching-up on Mr.Malone here."
"Call me Ken," Malone muttered.
"Don't be silly," Dorothy told him. "Wally hardly knows you. He'llcall you Mr. Malone and like it."
The bartender went away, and Malone sat on his stool and thoughtbusily for a minute. At last he said, "If you really want to catch upwith me..."
"Yes?" Dorothy said.
"Better have a triple," Malone muttered.
Dorothy's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Because I intend to have another one," Malone added. "And even thenyou'll be just a little behind."
"That sounds sort of sad, in a way," Dorothy said. "Just a littlebehind. Tell me, is that a compliment or an insult?"
"Both," Malone said instantly. "And an observation, too."
Dorothy nodded. "I can see why you're a Federal cop," she said.
"Really?" Malone said. "I didn't know it showed. Why?"
"You're good at observing," she said. "Like this morning, forinstance."
"Ah," Malone said. He searched in his mind for a quotation and foundit. "If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee," hesaid triumphantly.
"Sounds sort of grisly," Dorothy said.
Malone shrugged. "I can't help it," he said. "That's what it says."
"Well?" Dorothy said. "Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Pluck your eye out and cast it from you?"
"Didn't have to," Malone said. "Mine eye did not offend me." Heblinked and added, "Far from it."
"I guess we'll just have to leave it unplucked," Dorothy said sadly."It didn't offend me, either."
"Good," Malone said, and the bartender brought drinks.
Malone picked his up and held it in the air. "I propose a toast," hesaid.
Dorothy picked up her glass. "A toast?"
"An old German toast, as a matter of fact," Malone said.
He fell silent. After a few seconds Dorothy said, "Well? Go ahead."
_"Zwieback!"_ Malone said, bowed carefully to Dorothy and drained hisglass with a flourish.
7
It started a million years ago.
In that distant past, a handful of photons deep in the interior of Solbegan their random journey to the photosphere. They had been born asultrahard gamma radiation, and they were positively bursting withenergy, attempting to push their respective ways through the densenucleonic gas that had been their womb. Within millimicroseconds, theyhad been swallowed up by the various particles surroundingthem--swallowed, and emitted again, as the particles met in violentcollision.
And then the process was repeated. After a thousand thousand years,and billions on billions of such repetitions, the handful of photonsreached the relatively cool photosphere of the sun. But the longbattle had taken some of the drive out of them; over the past millionyears, even the strongest had become only hard ultraviolet, and theweakest just sputtered out in the form of long radio waves.
But now, at last, they were free! And in the first flush of thisnewfound freedom, they flung themselves over ninety-three millionmiles of space, traveling a
t one hundred and eighty-six thousand milesa second, and making the entire trip in less than eight and