"Not right now," Burris said. "If there is, I'll let you know."
Malone hung up unhappily as the image vanished. He looked across 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. "Okay," 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."
"Mmm," 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."
"Okay, 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 burst suddenly 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'd really 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 expression 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 then 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 get drunk and smoke cigars and carouse with loose women.
Anyway, reasonably loose women.
All nice young men, he decided, should be turned into ugly old men as
soon as possible. That'll 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 U235 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. _Good
God_, he thought. _She reads minds!_
"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.
4
"You're _where_?" Andrew J. Burris said.
Malone looked at the surprised face on the screen and wished he hadn't
called. He had to report in, of course--but, if he'd had any sense,
he'd have ordered Boyd to do the job for him.
Oh, well, it was too late for that now. "I'm in Las Vegas," he said.
"I tried to get you last night, but I couldn't, so I--"
"Las Vegas," Burris said. "Well, well. Las Vegas." His face darkened
and his voice became very loud. "Why aren't you in Yucca Flats?" he
screamed.
"Because she insisted on it," Malone said. "The old lady. Miss
Thompson. She says there's another telepath here."
Burris closed his eyes. "Well, that's a relief," he said at last.
"Somebody in one of the gambling houses, I suppose. Fine, Malone." He
went right on without a pause: "The boys have uncovered two more in
various parts of the nation. Not one of them is even close to sane."
He opened his eyes. "Where's this one?" he said.
Malone sighed. "In the looney bin," he said.
Burris' eyes closed again. Malone waited in silence. At last Burris
said: "All right. Get him out."
"Right," Malone said.
"Tell me," Burris said. "Why did Miss Thompson insist that you go to
Las Vegas? Somebody else could have done the job. You could have sent
Boyd, couldn't you?"
"Chief," Malone said slowly, "what sort of mental condition are those
other telepaths in?"
"Pretty bad," Burris said. "As a matter of fact, very bad. Miss
Thompson may be off her trolley, but the others haven't even got any
tracks." He paused. "What's that got to do with it?" he said.
"Well," Malone said, "I figured we'd better handle Miss Thompson with
kid gloves--at least until we find a better telepath to work with." He
didn't mention Barbara Wilson. The chief, he told himself, didn't want
to be bothered with details.
"Doggone right you'd better," Burris said. "You treat that old lady as
if she were the Queen herself, understand?"
"Don't worry," Malone said unhappily. "We are." He hesitated. "She
says she'll help us find our spy, all right, but we've got to do it
her way--or else she won't cooperate."
"Do it her way, then," Burris said. "That spy--"
"Chief, are you sure?"