"Not right now," Burris said. "If there is, I'll let you know."
* * * * *
Malone hung up unhappily as the image vanished. He looked at Dr. Harman.
"Well," he said, "that's that. What do I have to do to get a release for
Miss Thompson?"
Harman stared at him. "But, Mr. Malone," he said, "that just isn't
possible. Really. Miss Thompson is a ward of the state, and we couldn't
possibly allow her release without a court order."
Malone thought that over. "O.K.," he said at last. "I can see that." He
turned to Boyd. "Here's a job for you, Tom," he said. "Get one of the
judges on the phone. You'll know which one will do us the most good,
fastest."
"Hm-m-m," Boyd said. "Say Judge Dunning," he said. "Good man. Fast
worker."
"I don't care who," Malone said. "Just get going, and get us a release
for Miss Thompson." He turned back to the doctor. "By the way," he said,
"has she got any other name? Besides Elizabeth Tudor, I mean," he added
hurriedly.
"Her full name," Dr. Harman said, "is Rose Walker Thompson. She is not
Queen Elizabeth I, II, or XXVIII, and she is not immortal."
"But she is," Malone pointed out, "a telepath. And that's why I want
her."
"She may," Dr. Harman said, "be a telepath." It was obvious that he had
partly managed to forget the disturbing incidents that had happened a
few minutes before. "I don't even want to discuss that part of it."
"O.K., never mind it," Malone said agreeably. "Tom, get us a court order
for Rose Walker Thompson. Effective yesterday--day before, if possible."
Boyd nodded, but before he could get to the phone Dr. Harman spoke
again.
"Now, wait a moment, gentlemen," he said. "Court order or no court
order, Miss Thompson is definitely not a well woman, and I can't see my
way clear to--"
"I'm not well myself," Malone said. "I need sleep and I probably have a
cold. But I've got to work for the national security, and--"
"This is important," Boyd put in.
"I don't dispute that," Dr. Harman said. "Nevertheless, I--"
The door that led into the other room suddenly burst open. The three men
turned to stare at Miss Wilson, who stood in the doorway for a long
second and then stepped into the office, closing the door quietly behind
her.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said.
"Not at all," Malone said. "It's a pleasure to have you. Come again
soon." He smiled at her.
She didn't smile back. "Doctor," she said, "you better talk to Miss
Thompson. I'm not at all sure what I can do. It's something new."
"New?" he said. The worry lines on his face were increasing, but he
spoke softly.
"The poor dear thinks she's going to get out of the hospital now," Miss
Wilson said. "For some reason, she's convinced that the FBI is going to
get her released, and--"
As she saw the expressions on three faces, she stopped.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Miss Wilson," Malone said, "we ... may I call you by your first name?"
"Of course, Mr. Malone," she said.
There was a little silence.
"Miss Wilson," Malone said, "what _is_ your first name?"
She smiled now, very gently. Malone wanted to walk through mountains, or
climb fire. He felt confused, but wonderful. "Barbara," she said.
"Lovely," he said. "Well, Barbara ... and please call me Ken. It's short
for Kenneth."
The smile on her face broadened. "I thought it might be," she said.
"Well," Malone said softly, "it is. Kenneth. That's my name. And you're
Barbara."
Boyd cleared his throat.
"Ah," Malone said. "Yes. Of course. Well, Barbara ... well, that's just
what we intend to do. Take Miss Thompson away. We need her--badly."
Dr. Harman had said nothing at all, and had barely moved. He was staring
at a point on his desk. "She couldn't possibly have heard us," he
muttered. "That's a soundproof door. She couldn't have heard us."
"But you can't take Miss Thompson away," Miss Wilson said.
"We have to, Barbara," Malone said gently. "Try to understand. It's for
the national security."
"She heard us thinking," Dr. Harman muttered. "That's what; she heard us
thinking. Behind a soundproof door. She can see inside their minds. She
can even see inside _my_ mind."
"She's a sick woman," Barbara said.
"But you have to understand--"
"Vital necessity," Boyd put in. "Absolutely vital."
"Nevertheless--" Barbara said.
"She can read minds," Dr. Harman whispered in an awed tone. "She knows.
Everything. She _knows_."
"It's out of the question," Barbara said. "Whether you like it or not.
Miss Thompson is not going to leave this hospital. Why, what could she
do outside these walls? She hasn't left in over forty years! And
furthermore, Mr. Malone--"
"Kenneth," Malone put in, as the door opened again. "I mean Ken."
* * * * *
The little old lady put her haloed head into the room. "Now, now,
Barbara," she said. "Don't you go spoiling things. Just let these nice
men take me away and everything will be fine, believe me. Besides, I've
been outside more often than you imagine."
"Outside?" Barbara said.
"Of course," the little old lady said. "In other people's minds. Even
yours. I remember that nice young man ... what was his name?"
"Never mind his name," Barbara said, flushing furiously.
Malone felt instantly jealous of every nice young man he had ever even
heard of. _He_ wasn't a nice young man; he was an FBI agent, and he
liked to drink and smoke cigars and carouse.
All nice young men, he decided, should be turned into ugly old men as
soon as possible. That'd fix them!
He noticed the little old lady smiling at him, and tried to change his
thoughts rapidly. But the little old lady said nothing at all.
"At any rate," Barbara said, "I'm afraid that we just can't--"
Dr. Harman cleared his throat imperiously. It was a most impressive
noise, and everyone turned to look at him. His face was a little gray,
but he looked, otherwise, like a rather pudgy, blond, crew-cut Roman
emperor.
"Just a moment," he said with dignity, "I think you're doing the United
States of America a grave injustice, Miss Wilson--and that you're doing
an injustice to Miss Thompson, too."
"What do you mean?" she said.
"I think it would be nice for her to get away from me--I mean from
here," the psychiatrist said. "Where did you say you were taking her?"
he asked Malone.
"Yucca Flats," Malone said.
"Ah." The news seemed to please the psychiatrist. "That's a long
distance from here, isn't it? It's quite a few hundred miles away.
Perhaps even a few thousand miles away. I feel sure that will be the
best thing for me ... I mean, of course, for Miss Thompson. I shall
recommend that the court so order."
"Doctor--" But even Barbara saw, Malone could tell, that it was no good
arguing with Dr. Harman. She tried a last attack. "Doctor, who's going
to take care of her?"
A light the size and shape of North America burst in Malone's mind. He
almost chortled. But he managed to keep his voice under control. "What
she needs," he said, "is a trained psychiatric nurse."
Barbara Wilson gave him a look that had carloads of U{235} stacked away
in it, but Malone barely minded. She'd get over it, he told himself.
"Now, wasn't that sweet of you to think of that," the little old lady
said. Malone looked at her and was rewarded with another wink.
"I'm certainly glad you thought of Barbara," the little old lady went
on. "You will go with me won't you, dear? I'll make you a duchess.
Wouldn't you like to be a duchess, dear?"
Barbara looked from Malone to the little old lady, and then she looked
at Dr. Harman. Apparently what she saw failed to make her happy.
"We'll take good care of her, Barbara," Malone said.
She didn't even bother to give him an answer. After a second Boyd said:
"Well, I guess that settles it. If you'll let me use your phone, Dr.
Harman, I'll call Judge Dunning."
"Go right ahead," Dr. Harman said. "Go right ahead."
The little old lady smiled softly without looking at anybody at all.
"Won't it be wonderful?" she whispered. "At last I've been recognized.
My country is about to pay me for my services. My loyal subjects--" She
stopped and wiped what Malone thought was a tear from one
cornflower-blue eye.
"Now, now, Miss Thompson," Barbara said.
"I'm not sad," the little old lady said, smiling up at her. "I'm just so
very happy. I am about to get my reward, my well-deserved reward at
last, from all of my loyal subjects. You'll see." She paused and Malone
felt a faint stirring of stark, chill fear.
"Won't it be wonderful?" said the little old lady.