Malone took a deep breath. "First," he said, "we had to come here and
pick this guy up. This William Logan, who's in a private sanitarium
just outside of Las Vegas. That's number one. Miss Thompson wants to
get all the telepaths together, so they can hold mental conversations
or something."
"And all of them batty," Burris said.
"Sure," Malone said. "A convention of nuts--and me in the middle.
Listen, Chief--"
"Later," Burris said. "When this is over we can all resign, or go
fishing, or just plain shoot ourselves. But right now the national
security is primary, Malone. Remember that."
"Okay," Malone sighed. "Okay. But she wants all the nuts here."
"Go along with her," Burris snapped. "Keep her happy. So far, Malone,
she's the only lead we have on the guy who's swiping information from
Yucca Flats. If she wants something, Malone, you do it."
"But, Chief--"
"Don't interrupt me," Burris said. "If she wants to be treated like a
Queen, you treat her like one. Malone, that's an order!"
"Yes, sir," Malone said sadly. "But, Chief, she wants us to buy her
some new clothes."
"My God," Burris exploded. "Is that all? New clothes? Get 'em. Put 'em
on the expense account. New clothes are a drop in the bucket."
"Well--she thinks we need new clothes, too."
"Maybe you do," Burris said. "Put the whole thing on the expense
account. You don't think I'm going to quibble about a few dollars, do
you?"
"Well--"
"Get the clothes. Just don't bother me with details like this. Handle
the job yourself, Malone--you're in charge out there. And get to Yucca
Flats as soon as possible."
Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he said.
"All right, then," Burris said. "Call me tomorrow. Meanwhile--good
luck, Malone. Chin up."
Malone said: "Yes, sir," and reached for the switch. But Burris' voice
stopped him.
"Just one thing," he said.
"Yes, Chief?" Malone said.
Burris frowned. "Don't spend any more for the clothes than you have
to," he said.
Malone nodded, and cut off.
When the Director's image had vanished, he got up and went to the
window of the hotel room. Outside, a huge sign told the world, and
Malone, that this was the Thunderbird-Hilton-Zeckendorf Hotel, but
Malone ignored it. He didn't need a sign; he knew where he was.
In hot water, he thought. _That's_ where he was.
Behind him, the door opened. Malone turned as Boyd came in.
"I found a costume shop, Ken," he said.
"Great," Malone said. "The Chief authorized it."
"He did?" Boyd's round face fell at the news.
"He said to buy her whatever she wants. He says to treat her like a
Queen."
"That," Boyd said, "we're doing now."
"I know it," Malone said. "I know it altogether too well."
"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, "the costume shop doesn't do us any
good. They've only got cowboy stuff and bullfighters' costumes and
Mexican stuff--you know, for their Helldorado Week here."
"You didn't give up, did you?" Malone said.
Boyd shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "Ken: this is on the
expense account, isn't it?"
"Expense account," Malone said. "Sure it is."
Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he said. "Because I had the proprietor
phone her size in, to New York."
"Better get two of 'em," Malone said. "The Chief said anything she
wanted, she was supposed to have."
"I'll go back right away. I told him we wanted the stuff on the
afternoon plane, so--"
"And give him Bar--Miss Wilson's size, and yours, and mine. Tell him
to dig up something appropriate."
"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly. "For us," Malone said grimly.
Boyd set his jaw. "No," he said.
"Listen, Tom," Malone said, "I don't like this any better than you do.
But if I can't resign, you can't either. Costumes for everybody."
"But," Boyd said, and stopped. After a second he went on: "Malone--
Ken--FBI agents are supposed to be inconspicuous, aren't they?"
Malone nodded.
"Well, how inconspicuous are we going to be in this stuff?"
"It's an idea," Malone said. "But it isn't a very good one. Our first
job is to keep Miss Thompson happy. And that means costumes."