"Don't worry about a thing, Malone," Burris said with a palpably false
air of confidence. "You get this Queen Elizabeth of yours out of there
and take her to Yucca Flats, too."
Malone considered the possibilities. Maybe they would find more
telepaths. Maybe all the telepaths would be nuts. It didn't seem
unlikely. Imagine having a talent that nobody would believe you had. It
might very easily drive you crazy to be faced with a situation like
that.
And there they would be in Yucca Flats. Kenneth J. Malone, and a
convention of looney-bin inhabitants.
Fun!
Malone began to wonder why he had gone into FBI work in the first place.
"Listen, chief," he said. "I--"
"Sure, I understand," Burris said quickly. "She's batty. But what else
can we do? Malone, don't do anything you'll regret."
"What?"
"I mean, don't resign."
"Chief, how did you know--you're not telepathic too, are you?"
"Of course not," Burris said. "But that's what I would do in your place.
And don't do it."
"Look, chief," Malone said. "These nuts--"
"Malone, you've done a wonderful job so far," Burris said. "You'll get a
raise and a better job when all this is over. Who else would have
thought of looking in the twitch-bins for telepaths? But you did,
Malone, and I'm proud of you, and you're stuck with it. We've got to use
them now. We have to find that spy!" He took a breath. "On to Yucca
Flats!" he said.