"Of course. Goes without saying," he said. I shrugged. "At any rate," he
added, calming down. "I'm staying. Nothing outside of a direct order,
which I will protest to George Kelly, will get me to leave." The last
thing I wanted was trouble with the Director.
"Stay, Fred," I said. "But we'll have some things to settle afterwards."
"Maybe," he smiled. "It will depend. Right now I'd like to get a load of
this motivational research you've got cooked up."
"Don't bother," Mother said. "I've got more sense than to tie the rope
around my own neck. I'm not saying a word." She crossed her arms and sat
back in her chair with a granitic finality.
"So much the quicker," Fred said. "You can sentence her right now, Gyp!"
"Sure," I said. "Sure I can." I wish I could say that my mind raced to a
quick decision. No--I _couldn't_ think. Or almost couldn't. One idea
percolated through. Mother had made no "mistake" in calling Tony by my
name. She had read Fred's mind in the 'copter on the way from the jail,
and Anita's as she was ushered in. Her "mistake" could only mean one
thing--_Fred Plaice was not sure she was my mother_.
This much thought took time. Fred knew I was stalling. "Come on," he
snapped in a tone he had never dared to use to me before. "Let's have
the sentence!"
He was right in one thing. He had me over a barrel. I squeezed my
eyelids shut and did something I hadn't done since that day twenty years
before when I had run away from home. I opened my mind to my mother.
* * * * *
Unless you have had the experience, you can't imagine what it is like to
live with a telepath. It is disquieting in the extreme. One of the
concomitants of consciousness is that it is _private_ consciousness. And
when this isn't true, when someone, even a loved one, can creep into
your mind and know what you think, your insides writhe. Caterpillars
course around under your skin. And you resent. Sooner or later you will
hate. I ran away from home because I couldn't stand Mother in my mind,
and couldn't bear the thought of hating her.
But now I _had_ to know what I should do to her. I let her into my
thoughts. _Give me some sign_, I thought, as I waved a hand at Fred for
quiet. _Mother, tell me what to do!_
_Poor Joe_, she thought. _He loves me in spite of it all. He can't bear
to do what he has to do. Joe!_ her mind shrieked at me. _You read my
mind!_
I snapped upright in my chair and grabbed its arms until I could hear my
knuckles crack. My mind snapped shut with an almost audible crack. _I
was a damned snake!_
I could dimly hear Fred yammering at me. With a sick fear I slowly
opened my mind again. His thoughts surged into it. Well, Anita had been
right. And Anita!
_Yes_, Mother thought. _She does love you, Joe. A lovely girl. You lucky
man._
Fred had me by the shoulder, yelling at me, shaking me, trying to get me
to speak. He was almost slavering in his greed. I paid him no heed.
_All right_, I thought. _What's to be done, Mother?_
_Throw the book at me_, Mother thought.
"Shut up, Fred. And sit down." He kept his tight grip on my shoulder.
"Sit down!" I yelled at him. "Three strikes and out, Fred. This is the
third order you've resisted today!"
"Now hear this," I said. "Under the powers vested in me ..." I sentenced
Mother to indefinite detention in Oklahoma. I threatened her with
worse--face it, the only worse thing was death--if she were found in a
restricted area again.
"Take her out, Fred," I said. He hadn't counted on my being able to do
it, and it left him without a plan. "Four times?" I asked him.
"No. No, Gyp. On my way," he said, taking Mother by the arm.
Anita started to follow him. I stopped her and waited until the door had
closed behind Fred and Mother.
"You were right about Fred, Anita," I said. "Thank you for saving my
life."
"Oh, Gyp," she said, tears trying to brim over her eyelids. "He's such a
cutthroat!"
"Sure," I said. "But now we know it. Get me an appointment with George
Kelly, will you, Anita?"
She compressed her lips. "That's more like it!" she said angrily. "Get
Fred kicked clear out of the Bureau. George Kelly is a great Director,
Gyp, and he'll do it if you insist."
"Maybe," I said. I stewed over what to tell the boss until Anita came
back in.
"Mr. Kelly can see you now, Mr. Tinker," she said, all calmed down
again.
I got up and came around the desk and took her by the elbow, standing at
my door. "Just in case," I said, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the
lips. "I love you, too."
"Too?" she said.
I froze. It was the kind of slip that sooner or later trips up every
snake. My grin was a sick one. I walked out without another word.
* * * * *
The Director's office is on the fourth floor, I climbed the single
flight, and his girl let me in. George affects long slim cigars. I say
affects. He seldom lights them, but he waves them like batons,
conducting some kind of a symphony of words and ideas all day.
"Welcome, stranger," he said, calling on the fiddles for a little
pizzicato. "What's up, Gyp?"
I sat down across from him at his desk and tried to put a smile on my
face. "I want to submit my resignation, George," I said. "Effective
immediately."
"Not accepted," he said, without a second thought. Then his face grew
solemn. "What's this about?" he demanded. "I can't lose _you_, Gyp. My
right bower!"
"One favor," I said, not answering him. "Don't move Fred Plaice up to my
old spot. Any of the other Section Chiefs, but not Fred."
"Well, well," George said, whipping up the brasses with his cigar.
"This begins to sound like cause and effect." He hushed the whole
orchestra to a whisper. "I thought Fred was your fair-haired boy, Gyp.
You two get in a hassle?"
I shook my head. "Not directly, George," I told him. "I want you to know
two things. They'll explain why I'm quitting. My mother is a telepath.
We arrested her early this morning, here in the District. I just
sentenced her to transportation and detention in Oklahoma."
"Good heavens," he gasped. "Your own mother! Gyp, no wonder you're
upset. Didn't you know she was a snake?"
My smile was a little tired. "Of course I knew," I told him. "I ran away
from home at thirteen to get away from having her inside my head all the
time. That's how I learned to close my mind--closing her out as much as
I could. The power got stronger as I grew older."
"It's embarrassing," George said, turning away from me to look out the
window. "To have you, of all people, Gyp, with telepathic heredity.
Still, if no one knows, and since you've never had the slightest
manifestation of psi powers yourself, there may be some way we can
preserve your usefulness."
"Today, within the last half hour, George, my latent telepathic ability
became manifest. George, I'm a snake."
His face froze. Then the batonlike cigar stopped its movement. He was
like a statue. The pose broke, and he pressed a button.
"Send Carol Lundgren in," he ordered. I knew Carol, another short-range
telepath that George used as his private lie-detector.
Carol was at my elbow in a moment or so. George wasted no words. "Carol,
is there a telepath in this room?" he asked.
Carol grinned. "Yep," he said to the enforced silence. "There is."
George Kelly's face fell. "His name is Carol Lundgren," the kid went on.
"Next question?"
George looked as though he could have brained him. "All right, you
Philadelphia lawyer," he grumbled. "Besides yourself, Carol, is there a
telepath in this room?"
"No, Mr. Kelly, there is not."
"Get out, and don't scare me like that again." George told him.
I didn't get it. I said so: "George, I don't get it. I read my mother's
thoughts, and for that matter, Fred Plaice's thoughts, too. That's why I
asked you not to give him my job. I swear to you I can read thoughts."
"So?"
"If I _know_ I'm a telepath, Carol should be able to read the thought
that I know it," I protested.
"You're like me," George Kelly said. "You automatically close your mind
in the presence of a telepath. It's pure reflex now. Carol couldn't read
a thing because you clammed your thoughts the instant he walked in."
"That was _then_!" I yelled at him. "_Before_ my psi powers became
manifest. You know that a telepath can't close his mind! Why couldn't
Carol read my thoughts?"
_Well_, George thought, _he couldn't read mine either, could he?_
_No_, I thought. _He couldn't. He ... George!_ my mind shrieked at him.
Somebody kicked the props out from under my world. _George Kelly was a
snake!_
_Don't be silly_, he thought. _I'm no more a snake than you are, Gyp._
_But you're a telepath!_
_So are you, Gyp_, he thought. _The only kind of telepath that really
counts. You can read minds, but others can't read yours._
I fell back on words, closing my mind--it was rattling so I didn't want
George to read my thoughts: "But a telepath _can't_ close his mind!" I
protested.
"I hope the Russians are as sure of that as you are, Gyp," George
grinned. "The only agents we have in Russia are closed-mind
telepaths--telepaths who don't automatically give themselves away. Now
_that_ kind of a telepath really _is_ a usable espionage agent or a safe
link in a communications net."
"How long has this been going on?"
"About three years, Gyp. When we discovered that certain training could
make some telepaths closed-mind operators, we got the President to
promulgate the Executive Orders that Congress later made into law. We
got all ordinary telepaths out of circulation and put to work those that
we could train to closed-mind operation. Now you know why I won't take
your resignation."
I sputtered. "George, how can I conscientiously crack down on these poor
people, if I'm a TP myself?"
He grinned. "You won't. You'll still be doing just what you've always
been doing, except now you'll _know_ that you're doing it. You'll be
recruiting telepaths for us. Where do you think we train them?"
"Oklahoma? The Detention area?"
"Sure. Where else? Now relax. But for heaven's sake, don't ever leak
this. We feel sure the Russians haven't discovered this business of
closed-mind telepaths yet. Some day, I suppose, they will. It may take a
long time. The self-realized closed-mind telepath like you, Gyp, is a
rarity. Mostly we have to train people rigorously for it. It took your
mother over two years to learn it."
"My mother!"
"Sure. Why did you think she was in Washington? She's part of the
Sevastopol, Teheran and Cairo communications network."
"George," I insisted. "Something is shaky. If she's on the inside, how
did she ever get picked up?"
He laughed. "Just part of her cover. Fred Plaice got too close. We know
what he is, Gyp. But we didn't dare to have him guess what your mother
was. She's on her way to a nice California vacation. New assignment
after that. Maybe middle Europe. After all, she _is_ a gypsy. Ought to
go well, say, in Bulgaria!"