raid would probably be their baby first ofall. That means it takes this precinct, the warehouse precinct, andthe Safe and Loft Squad, all together, to raid that warehouse. Malone,would I pull a raid at this stage, if I had to go through all that,without knowing what the hell I was going to find down there?"
"Oh," Malone said.
"If those kids can just appear and disappear at will," Lynch said,"I'm not going to pull a raid on them, and end up looking like a damnfool, until I've got some way of making sure they're there when theraid goes through."
Malone coughed gently. "Okay," he said at last. "Sorry."
"There's only one thing I want," Lynch said. "I want to be able tomove as soon as possible."
"Well, sure," Malone said apologetically.
"And that means I'm going to have to be informed," Lynch said. "I wantto know what's going on, as fast as possible."
Malone nodded gently. "Sure," he said. "I'll tell you everything thathappens--as soon as I know myself. But right now, I haven't got athing for you. All I have is a kind of theory, and it's prettyscrewy."
He stopped. Lynch looked up at him. "How screwy can it get?" he said."The facts are nutty enough."
"You have absolutely no idea," Malone assured him. "I'm not evensaying a word about this, not until I prove it out one way or another.I'm not even thinking about it--not until it stops sounding so nuttyto me."
"Okay, Malone," Lynch said. "I can see a piece of it, if no more. TheFueyo kid vanishes mysteriously--never mind all that about you gettinghim out of the interrogation room by some kind of confidential method.There isn't any confidential method. I know that better than you do."
"I had to say something, didn't I?" Malone asked apologetically.
"So the kid disappears," Lynch said, brushing Malone's question awaywith a wave of his hand. "So now I hear all this stuff from Kettleman.And it begins to add up. The kids can disappear somehow, and reappearsome place else. Walk through walls?" He shrugged. "How should I know?But they can sure as hell do something like it."
"Something," Malone said. "Like I said, it sounds screwy."
"I don't like it," Lynch said.
Malone nodded. "Nobody likes it," he said. "But keep it under yourhat. I'll give you everything I have--whenever I have anything. And bythe way--"
"Yes?" Lynch said.
"Thanks for giving me and Kettleman a chance to talk," Malone said."Even if you had reasons of your own."
"Oh," Lynch said. "You mean the recording."
"I was a little suspicious," Malone said. "I didn't think you'd giveKettleman to me without getting _something_ for yourself."
"Would you?" Lynch said.
Malone shrugged. "I'm not crazy either," he said.
Lynch picked up a handful of papers. "I've got all this work to do,"he said. "So I'll see you later."
"Okay," Malone said.
"And if you need my help, buddy-boy," Lynch said, "just yell. Right?"
"I'll yell," Malone said. "Don't worry about that. I'll yell loudenough to get myself heard in Space Station One."
9
The afternoon was bright and sunny, but it didn't match Malone's mood.He got a cab outside the precinct station and headed for 69th Street,dining off his nails en route. When he hit the FBI headquarters, hecalled Washington and got Burris on the line.
He made a full report to the FBI chief, including his wild theory andeverything else that had happened. "And there was this notebook," hesaid, and reached into his jacket pocket for it.
The pocket was empty.
"What notebook?" Burris said.
Malone tried to remember if he'd left the book in his room. Hecouldn't quite recall. "This book I picked up," he said, and describedit. "I'll send it on, or bring it in when the case is over."
"All right," Burris said.
Malone went on with his description of what had happened. When he'dfinished, Burris heaved a great sigh.
"My goodness," he said. "Last year it was telepathic spies, and thisyear it's teleporting thieves. Malone, I hate to think about nextyear."
"I wish you hadn't said that," Malone said sadly.
Burris blinked. "Why?" he said.
"Oh, just because," Malone said. "I haven't even had time to thinkabout next year yet. But I'll think about it now."
"Well, maybe it won't be so bad," Burris said.
Malone shook his head. "No, Chief," he said. "You're wrong. It'll beworse."
"This is bad enough," Burris said.
"It's a great vacation," Malone said.
"Please," Burris said. "Did I have any idea--"
"Yes," Malone said.
Burris' eyes closed. "All right, Malone," he said after a littlepause. "Let's get back to the report. At least it explains the redCadillac business. Sergeant Jukovsky was hit by a boy who vanished.Vanished. My God."
"I was hit by a boy who vanished, too," Malone said bitterly. "But ofcourse I'm just an FBI agent. Expendable. Nobody cares about--"
"Don't say that, Malone," Burris said. "You're one of my most valuableagents."
Malone tried to stop himself from beaming, but he couldn't. "Well,Chief," he began, "I--"
"Vanishing boys," Burris muttered. "What are you going to do withthem, Malone?"
"I was hoping you might have some kind of suggestion," Malone said.
"Me?"
"Well," Malone said, "I suppose I'll figure it out. When I catch them.But I did want something from you, Chief."
"Anything, Malone," Burris said. "Anything at all."
"I want you to get hold of Dr. O'Connor, out at Yucca Flats, if youcan. He's the best psionics man Westinghouse has right now, and Imight need him."
"If you say so," Burris said doubtfully.
"Well," Malone said, "these kids are teleports. And maybe there's someway to stop a teleport. Give him a good hard kick in the psi, forinstance."
"In the what?"
"Never mind," Malone said savagely. "But if I'm going to get anyinformation on what makes teleports tick, I'm going to have to get itfrom Dr. O'Connor. Right?"
"Right," Burris said.
"So get in touch with Dr. O'Connor," Malone said.
"I'll have him call you," Burris said. "Meanwhile--well, meanwhilejust carry on, Malone. I've got every confidence in you."
"Thanks," Malone growled.
"If anybody can crack a case like this," Burris said, "it's you."
"I suppose it had better be," Malone said, and rang off.
Then he started to think. The notebook wasn't in his pockets. Hechecked every one, even the jacket pocket where he usually kept ahandkerchief and nothing else. It wasn't anywhere on his person.
Had he left it in his room?
He thought about that for several minutes, and finally decided that hehadn't. He hadn't taken it out of his pocket, for one thing, and if ithad fallen to the ground he couldn't have helped seeing it. Of coursehe'd put his wallet, keys, change, and other such items on thedresser, and then replaced them in his pockets in the morning. But hecould remember how they'd looked on the dresser.
The notebook hadn't been there among them.
Now that he came to think of it, when had he seen the notebook last?He'd shown it to Lieutenant Lynch during the afternoon, and then he'dput it back in his pocket, and he hadn't looked for it again.
So it had to be somewhere in one of the bars he'd visited, or at thetheater where he and Dorothy had seen _The Hot Seat_.
Proud of himself for this careful and complete job of deduction, hestrolled out and, giving Boyd and the Agent-in-Charge one small smileeach, to remember him by, he went into the sunlight, trying to decidewhich place to check first.
He settled on the theater because it was most probable. After all,people were always losing things in theaters. Besides, if he startedat the theater, and found the notebook there, he could then go on to abar to celebrate. If he found the notebook in a bar, he didn't muchrelish the idea of going on to an empty theater in the middle of the
afternoon to celebrate.
Shaking his head over this flimsy structure of logic, he headed downto _The Hot Seat_. He banged on the lobby