LITMIR.BIZ

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if it is?" Malone said. "It's still terrible. Everything is terrible. Look at the situation."

      "I am looking," Burris said. "And it's another New Frontier. Just like it was when President Kennedy first said those words."

      "A New Frontier inhabited entirely by maniacs," Malone said. "Perfectly wonderful. What a way to run a world."

      "That," Burris said, "is the way the ball bounces. Or whatever you're supposed to say. Malone, don't think you haven't got my sympathy. You have. I know how hard the job is you're doing."

      "You couldn't," Malone told him bitterly.

      "Well, anyhow," Burris went on, "don't resign. Stay on the job. Don't give it up, Malone. Don't desert the ship. I want you to promise me you won'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.

      Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he said. "Anything else?"

      "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

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