Burris frowned and drummed his fingers on his big desk. "Malone," he
said, "make sense. And don't stutter."
"Stutter?" Malone said. "You said you didn't know what it was. And I
wanted to know what it was."
"That's just it," Burris said. "I don't know."
Malone sighed and repressed an impulse to scream. "Now, wait a minute,
Chief--" he started.
Burris frowned again. "Don't call me Chief," he said.
Malone nodded, "O.K.," he said. "But--if you don't know what it is,
you must have some idea of what you don't know. I mean, is it larger
than a breadbox? Does it perform helpful tasks? Is it self-employed?"
"Malone," Burris sighed, "you ought to be on television."
"But--"
"Let me explain," Burris said. His voice was calmer now, and he spoke
as if he were enunciating nothing but the most obvious and eternal
truths. "The country," he said, "is going to Hell in a handbasket."
Malone nodded again. "Well, after all, Chief--" he started.
"Don't call me Chief," Burris said wearily.
"Anything you say," Malone agreed peacefully. He eyed the Director of
the FBI warily. "After all, it isn't anything new," he went on. "The
country's always been going to Hell in a handbasket, one way or
another. Look at Rome."
"Rome?" Burris said.
"Sure," Malone said. "Rome was always going to Hell in a handbasket,
and finally it--" He paused. "Finally it did, I guess," he said.
"Exactly," Burris said. "And so are we. Finally." He passed a hand
over his forehead and stared past Malone at a spot on the wall. Malone
turned and looked at the spot, but saw nothing of interest. "Malone,"
Burris said, and the FBI Agent whirled around again.
"Yes, Ch--Yes?" he said.
"This time," Burris said, "it isn't the same old story at all. This
time it's different."
"Different?" Malone said.
Burris nodded. "Look at it this way," he said. His eyes returned to
the FBI Agent. "Suppose you're a congressman," he went on, "and you
find evidence of inefficiency in the government."
"All right," Malone said agreeably. He had the feeling that if he
waited around a little while everything would make sense, and he was
willing to wait. After all, he wasn't on assignment at the moment, and
there was nothing pressing waiting for him. He was even between
romances.
If he waited long enough, he told himself, Andrew J. Burris might say
something worth hearing. He looked attentive and eager. He considered
leaning over the desk a little, to look even more eager, but decided
against it; Burris might think he looked threatening. There was no
telling.
"You're a congressman," Burris said, "and the government is
inefficient. You find evidence of it. What do you do?"
* * * * *
Malone blinked and thought for a second. It didn't take any longer
than that to come up with the old, old answer. "I start an
investigation," he said. "I get a committee and I talk to a lot of
newspaper editors and magazine editors and maybe I go on television
and talk some more, and my committee has a lot of meetings--"
"Exactly," Burris said.
"And we talk a lot at the meetings," Malone went on, carried away,
"and get a lot of publicity, and we subpoena famous people, just as
famous as we can get, except governors or presidents, because you
can't--they tried that back in the '50s, and it didn't work very
well--and that gives us some more publicity, and then when we have all
the publicity we can possibly get--"
"You stop," Burris said hurriedly.
"That's right," Malone said. "We stop. And that's what I'd do."
"Of course, the problem of inefficiency is left exactly where it
always was," Burris said. "Nothing's been done about it."
"Naturally," Malone said. "But think of all the lovely publicity. And
all the nice talk. And the subpoenas and committees and everything."
"Sure," Burris said wearily. "It's happened a thousand times. But,
Malone, that's the difference. It isn't happening this time."
There was a short pause. "What do you mean?" Malone said at last.
"This time," Burris said, in a tone that sounded almost awed, "they
want to keep it a secret."
"A secret?" Malone said, blinking. "But that's ... that's not the
American way."
Burris shrugged. "It's un-congressman-like, anyhow," he said. "But
that's what they've done. Tiptoed over to me and whispered softly that
the thing has to be investigated quietly. Naturally, they didn't give
me any orders--but only because they know they can't make one stick.
They suggested it pretty strongly."
"Any reasons?" Malone said. The whole idea interested him strangely.
It was odd--and he found himself almost liking odd cases, lately. That
is, he amended hurriedly, if they didn't get _too_ odd.
"Oh, they had reasons, all right," Burris said. "It took a little
coaxing, but I managed to pry some loose. You see, every one of them
found inefficiency in his own department. And every one knows that
other men are investigating inefficiency."
"Oh," Malone said.
"That's right," Burris said. "Every one of them came to me to get me
to prove that the goof-ups in his particular department weren't his
fault. That covers them in case one of the others happens to light
into the department."
"Well, it must be _somebody's_ fault," Malone said.
"It isn't theirs," Burris said wearily. "I ought to know. They told
me. At great length, Malone."
Malone felt a stab of honest pity. "How many so far?" he said.
"Six," Burris said. "Four representatives, and two senators."
"Only two?" Malone said.
"Well," Burris said, "the Senate is so much smaller. And, besides, we
may get more. As a matter of fact, Senator Lefferts is worth any six
representatives all by himself."
"He is?" Malone said, puzzled. Senator Lefferts was not one of his
favorite people. Nor, as far as he knew, did the somewhat excitable
senator hold any place of honor in the heart of Andrew J. Burris.
"I mean his story," Burris said. "I've never heard anything like
it--at least, not since the Bilbo days. And I've only heard about
those," he added hurriedly.
"What story?" Malone said. "He talked about inefficiency--"
"Not exactly," Burris said carefully. "He said that somebody was out
to get him--him, personally. He said somebody was trying to discredit
him by sabotaging all his legislative plans."
"Well," Malone said, feeling that some comment was called for, "three
cheers."
"That isn't the point," Burris snapped. "No matter how we felt about
Senator Lefferts or his legislative plans, we're sworn to protect him.
And he says 'they' are out to get him."
"They?" Malone said.
"You know," Burris said, shrugging. "The great 'they.' The invisible
enemies all around, working against him."
"Oh," Malone said. "Paranoid?" He had always thought Senator Lefferts
was slightly on the batty side, and the idea of real paranoia didn't
come as too much of a surprise. After all, when a man was batty to
start out with ... and he even _looked_ like a vampire, Malone thought
confusedly.
"As far as paranoia is concerned," Burris said, "I checked with one of
our own psych men, and he'll back it up. Lefferts has definite
paranoid tendencies, he says."