"Sure I do," Malone said. "You're looking into the resignation out
there, aren't you?"
"Senator Burley," Boyd said. "That's right. But Senator Burley's
resignation isn't all of it, by any means."
"It isn't?" Malone said, trying to sound interested.
"Not at all," Boyd said. "It goes a lot deeper than it looks on the
surface. In the past year, Ken, five senators have announced their
resignations from the Senate of the United States. It isn't exactly a
record--"
"It sounds like a record," Malone said.
"Well," Boyd said, "there was 1860 and the Civil War, when a whole lot
of senators and representatives resigned all at once."
"Oh," Malone said. "But there isn't any Civil War going on now. At
least," he added, "I haven't heard of any."
"That's what makes it so funny," Boyd said. "Of course, Senator Burley
said it was ill health, and so did two others, while Senator Davidson
said it was old age."
"Well," Malone said, "people do get old. And sick."
"Sure," Boyd said. "The only trouble is--" He paused. "Ken," he said,
"do you mind if I smoke? I mean, do you mind the smell of cigars?"
"Mind?" Malone said. "Not at all. Not at all." He blinked. "Besides,"
he added, "maybe this one won't smell like a cigar."
"Well, the last one did," Boyd said. He took a cigarette out of a pack
in his pocket, and lit it. He sniffed. "You know," he said, "You're
right. This one doesn't."
"I told you," Malone said. "Must have been a bad cigarette. Spoiled or
something."
"I guess so," Boyd said vaguely. "But about these retirements--the FBI
wanted me to look into it because of Burley's being mixed up with the
space program scandal last year. Remember?
"Vaguely," Malone said. "I was busy last year."
"Sure you were," Boyd said. "We were both busy getting famous and
well-known."
Malone grinned. "Go on with the story," he said.
Boyd puffed at his cigarette. "Anyhow, we couldn't find anything
really wrong," he said. "Three senators retiring because of ill
health, one because of old age. And Farnsworth, the youngest. He had a
nervous breakdown."
"I didn't hear about it," Malone said.
Boyd shrugged. "We hushed it up," he said. "But Farnsworth's got
delusions of persecution. He apparently thinks somebody's out to get
him. As a matter of fact, he thinks _everybody's_ out to get him."
"Now that," Malone said, "sounds familiar."
Boyd leaned back a little more in his chair. "Here's the funny thing,
though," he said. "The others all act as if they're suspicious of
everybody who talks to them. Not anything obvious, you understand.
Just--worried. Apprehensive. Always looking at you out of the corners
of their eyes. That kind of thing."
Malone thought of Senator Lefferts, who was also suffering from
delusions of persecution--delusions that had real evidence to back
them up. "It does sound funny," he said cautiously.
"Well, I reported everything to Burris," Boyd went on. "And he said
you were working on something similar, and we might as well pool our
resources."
"Here we go again," Malone said. He took a deep breath, filling his
nostrils with what remained of the cigar odor in the room, and felt
more peaceful. Quickly, he told Boyd about what had been happening in
Congress. "It seems pretty obvious," he finished, "that there is some
kind of a tie-up between the two cases."
"Maybe it's obvious," Boyd said, "But it is just a little bit odd. Fun
and games. You know, Ken, Burris was right."
"How?" Malone said.
"He said everything was all mixed up," Boyd went on. "He told me the
country was going to Rome in a handbasket, or something like that."
Wondering vaguely if Burris had really been predicting mass religious
conversions, Malone nodded silently.
"And he's right," Boyd said. "Look at the newspapers. Everything's
screwy lately."
"Everything always is screwy," Malone said.
"Not like now," Boyd said. "So many big-shot gangsters have been
killed lately we might as well bring back Prohibition. And the labor
unions are so busy with internal battles that they haven't had time to
go on strike for over a year."
"Is that bad?" Malone said.
Boyd shrugged. "God knows," he said. "But it's sure confusing as all
hell."
"And now," Malone said, "with all that going on--"
"The Congress of the United States decides to go off its collective
rocker," Boyd finished. "Exactly." He stared down at his cigarette for
a minute with a morose and pensive expression on his face. He looked,
Malone thought, like Henry VIII trying to decide what to do about all
these here wives.
[Illustration]
Then he looked up at Malone. "Ken," he said in a strained voice,
"there seem to be a lot of nutty cases lately."
Malone considered. "No," he said at last. "It's just that when a nutty
one comes along, we get it."
"That's what I mean," Boyd said. "I wonder why that is."
Malone shrugged. "It takes a thief to catch a thief," he said.
"But these aren't thieves," Boyd said. "I mean--they're just nutty."
He paused. "Oh," he said.
"And, two thieves are better than one," Malone said.
"Anyhow," Boyd said with a small, gusty sigh, "it's company."
"Sure," Malone said.
Boyd looked for an ashtray, failed again to find one, and walked over
to flip a second cigarette out onto Washington. He came back to his
chair, sat down, and said: "What's our next step, Ken?"
Malone considered carefully. "First," he said finally, "we'll start
assuming something. We'll start assuming that there is some kind of
organization behind all this--behind all the senators' resignations
and everything like that."
"It sounds like a big assumption," Boyd said.
Malone shook his head. "It isn't really," he said. "After all, we
can't figure it's the work of one person: it's too widespread for
that. And it's silly to assume that everything's accidental."
"All right," Boyd said equably. "It's an organization."
"Trying to subvert the United States," Malone went on. "Reducing
everything to chaos. And that brings in everything else, Tom. That
brings in the unions and the gang wars and everything."
Boyd blinked. "How?" he said.
"Obvious," Malone said. "Strife brought on by internal
confusion--that's what's going on all over. It's the same pattern. And
if we assume an organization trying to jam up the United States, it
even makes sense." He leaned back and beamed.
"Sure it makes sense," Boyd said. "But who's the organization?"
Malone shrugged.
"If I were doing the picking," Boyd said, "I'd pick the Russians. Or
the Chinese. Or both. Probably both."
"It's a possibility," Malone said. "Anyhow, if it's sabotage, who else
would be interested in sabotaging the United States? There's some
Russian or Chinese organization fouling up Congress, and the unions,
and the gangs. Come to think of it, why the gangs? It seems to me that
if you left the professional gangsters strong, it would do even more
to foul things up."
"Who knows?" Boyd said. "Maybe they're trying to get rid of American
gangsters so they can import some of their own."
"That doesn't make any sense," Malone said, "but I'll think about it.
In the meantime, we have one more interesting question."
"We do?" Boyd said.
"Sure we do," Malone said. "The question is: How?"
Boyd said: "Hm-m-m." Then there was silence for a little while.
"How are the saboteurs doing all this?" Malone said. "It just doesn't
seem very probable that _all_ the technicians in the Senate Office
Building, for instance, are spies. It makes even less sense that the
labor unions are composed mostly of spies. Or, for that matter, the
Mafia and the organizations like it. What would spies be doing in the
Mafia?"
"Learning Italian," Boyd said instantly.
"Don't be silly," Malone said. "If there were that many spies in this
country, the Russians wouldn't have to fight at all. They could _vote_
the Communists into power--and by a nice big landslide, too."
"Wait a minute," Boyd said. "If there aren't so many spies, then how
is all this getting done?"
Malone beamed. "That's the question," he said. "And I think I have the
answer."
"You do?" Boyd said. After a second he said: "Oh, no."
"Suppose you tell me," Malone said.
Boyd opened his mouth. Nothing emerged. He shut it. A second passed
and he opened it again. "Magic?" he said weakly.
"Not exactly," Malone said cheerfully. "But you're getting warm."
Boyd shut his eyes. "I'm not going to stand for it," he announced.
"I'm not going to take any more."
"Any more what?" Malone said. "Tell me what you have in mind."
"I won't even consider it," Boyd said. "It haunts me. It gets into my
dreams. Now, look, Ken: I can't even see a pitchfork any more without
thinking of Greek letters."
Malone took a breath. "Which Greek letter?" he said.
"You know very well," Boyd said. "What a pitchfork looks like. _Psi_.
And I'm not even going to think about it."
"Well," Malone said equably, "you won't have to. If you'd rather start
with the Russian spy end of things, you can do that."
"What I'd rather do," Boyd said, "is resign."
"Next year," Malone said instantly. "For now, you can wait around
until the dossiers come up--they're for the Senate Office Building
technicians, and they're on the way. You can go over them, and start
checking on any known Russian agents in the country for contacts. You
can also start checking on the dossiers, and in general for any
hanky-panky."
Boyd blinked. "Hanky-panky?" he said.
"It's a perfectly good word," Malone said, offended. "Or two words.
Anyhow, you can start on that end, and not worry about anything else."
"It's going to haunt me," Boyd said.
"Well," Malone said, "eat lots of ectoplasm and get enough sleep, and
everything will be fine. After all, I'm going to have to do the real
end of the work--the psionics end. I may be wrong, but--"
He was interrupted by the phone. He flicked the switch and Andrew J.
Burris' face appeared on the screen.
"Malone," Burris said instantly, "I just got a complaint from the
State Department that ties in with your work. Their translator has
been acting up."
Malone couldn't say anything for a minute.
"Malone," Burris went on. "I said--"
"I heard you," Malone said. "And it doesn't have one."
"It doesn't have one what?" Burris said.
"A pig-Latin circuit," Malone said. "What else?"
Burris' voice was very calm. "Malone," he said, "what does pig-Latin
have to do with anything?"
"You said--"
"I said one of the State Department translators was acting up," Burris
said. "If you want details--"
"I don't think I can stand them," Malone said.
"Some of the Russian and Chinese releases have come through with the
meaning slightly altered," Burris went on doggedly. "And I want you to
check on it right away. I--"
"Thank God," Malone said.