Randall Garrett

“ Malone said, tentatively: "Because there's nothing to laugh about, sir?"
Burris whirled. "On the head!" he said happily. "You've hit the nail on the head, Kenneth. I knew I could depend on you." His voice grew serious again, and thoughtful. "We're not laughing any more because there's nothing to laugh about. We have orbital satellites, and we've landed on the Moon with an atomic rocket. The planets are the next step, and after that the stars. Man's heritage, Kenneth. The stars. And the stars, Kenneth, belong to Man—not to the Russians!" ”

“ But what if O'Connor were the spy himself—a telepath? What if he were so confident of his ability to throw the Queen off the track that he had allowed the FBI to find all the other telepaths? There was another argument for that: he'd had to report the findings of his machine no matter what it cost him; there were too many other men on his staff who knew about it.
O'Connor was a perfectly plausible spy, too. But he didn't seem very likely. The head of a government project is likely to be a much- investigated man. ”

“ The Queen said: "I'll try one for size." She'd picked up poker lingo, and the basic rules of the game, Malone realized, from the other players—or possibly from someone at the hospital itself, years ago.
He wished she'd picked up something less dangerous instead, like a love of big-game hunting, or stunt-flying.
But no. It had to be poker.
The Queen threw away her seven of spades, showing more sense than Malone had given her credit for at any time during the game. She let the other card fall and didn't look at it.
She smiled up at Malone and Boyd. "Live dangerously," she said gaily. ”

“ Malone admitted.
"There," Her Majesty said. "You see? Telepaths do go insane—it's sort of an occupational disease. Of course, not all of them are insane."
"Not all of them?" Malone felt the faint stirrings of hope. Perhaps they would turn up a telepath yet who was completely sane and rational.
"There's me, of course," Her Majesty said.
Lady Barbara gulped audibly. Boyd said nothing, but gripped the wheel of the car more tightly.
And Malone thought to himself: That's right. There's Queen
Elizabeth—who says she isn't crazy.
And then he thought of one more sane telepath. ”

“ There was a click as the tape was turned off, and Dr. O'Connor looked up.
"It doesn't make much sense," Malone said. "But the kid sure has a hell of a vocabulary for an imbecile."
"Vocabulary?" Dr. O'Connor said softly.
"That's right," Malone said. "Where'd an imbecile get words like 'psychocerebral?' I don't think I know what that means, myself."
"Ah," Dr. O'Connor said. "But that's not his vocabulary, you see. What Charlie is doing is simply repeating the thoughts of those around him. He jumps from mind to mind, simply repeating whatever he receives." ”

“ Malone knew just how she felt.
One of the psychiatrists spoke up suddenly. "I don't understand it," he said. "Logan is completely catatonic. Even if he could read minds, how could he tell Dowson what he'd read? It doesn't make sense."
"In the first place," the Queen said patiently, "Willie isn't catatonic. He's just busy, that's all. He's only a boy, and—well, he doesn't much like being who he is. So he visits other people's minds, and that way he becomes them for a while. ”

“ Malone told himself morosely to shut up and think.
O'Connor, he told himself, might be the spy. It would be a pleasure, he realized, to go to the office of that superior scientist and arrest him. "I know your true name," he muttered. "It isn't O'Connor, it's Moriarty." He wondered if the Westinghouse man had ever done any work on the dynamics of an asteroid. Then he wondered what the dynamics of an asteroid were. ”

“ Malone said. "We can use him as a horrible example.
Suppose he can't talk, or do anything? Suppose he turns violent?
Suppose—"
"We can't afford to overlook a thing," Burris said, looking stern.
Once again, Malone sighed deeply. "I know," he said. "But all the same—"
"Don't worry about a thing, Malone," Burris said with a palpably false air of confidence. "Everything is going to be perfectly all right." He looked like a man trying very hard to sell the Brooklyn Bridge to a born New Yorker. "You get this Queen Elizabeth of yours out of there and take her to Yucca Flats, too," he added. ”

“ The shotgun blast splattered the glass of the curved windshield all over—but none of it came into the car itself.
Malone already had his hand on the butt of the .44 Magnum under his left armpit, and he even had time to be grateful, for once, that it wasn't a smallsword. The women were in the back seat, frozen, and he yelled: "Duck, damn it, duck!" and felt, rather than saw, both of them sink down onto the floor of the car.
The Buick had slowed down, too, and the gun barrel was swiveling back for a second shot. Malone felt naked and unprotected. ”

“ Her voice contained both tension and relief. "They are all good men, basically—and kind men," she said. "And they believe us. That's the important thing, you know. Their belief in us.... Just as you said that first day we met. We've needed belief for so long ... for so long...." Her voice trailed off; it seemed to become lost in a constellation of thoughts. Barbara had turned to look up at Her Majesty.
Malone took a step forward, but Burris interrupted him. "How about the spy?" he said.
Then his eyes widened. Boyd, standing next to him, leaned suddenly forward. ”

“ Gamble's costume did not quite fit him; his sleeve-ruffs were half way up to his elbows and his doublet had an unfortunate tendency to creep. The St. Elizabeths men, all four of them, looked just a little like moth-eaten versions of old silent pictures. Malone looked them over with a somewhat sardonic eye. Not only did he have the answer to the whole problem that had been plaguing them, but his costume was a stunning, perfect fit.
"Now, I want you men to let me handle this," Malone said. "I know just what I want to say, and I think I can get the information without too much trouble." ”

“ Unaccountably, Malone's chest swelled with pride.
"As for Dr. Dowson," the Queen said, "that traitor—hurt Willie. If he's hurt enough, he'll come back." Her eyes weren't hard any more. "He didn't want to be a spy, really," she said, "but he's just a boy, and it must have sounded rather exciting. He knew that if he told Dowson everything he'd found out, they'd let him go—go away again." ”

“ And, at the moment, his tone expressed all the hopelessness of that Old Testament prophet's lamentations.
"We're helpless," he said, looking at the young man with the crisp brown hair who was sitting across the desk. "That's what it is, we're helpless."
Kenneth Malone tried to look dependable. "Just tell me what to do," he said.
"You're a good agent, Kenneth," Burris said. "You're one of the best. That's why you've been picked for this job. ”

“ 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." ”

“ Malone, in the first car, wondered briefly about the kind of patients they catered to. People driven mad by vingt-et-un or poker-dice? Neurotic chorus ponies? Gambling czars with delusions of non-persecution?
Sitting in the front seat next to Boyd, he watched the unhappy San
Francisco agent manipulating the wheel. In the back seat, Queen
Elizabeth Thompson and Lady Barbara, the nurse, were located, and Her
Majesty was chattering away like a magpie. ”

“ Malone said sadly.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Burris asked.
"What 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." ”

“ He smiled into the video cameras and cleared his throat. "I take it you don't want an explanation of how this machine works. I mean: you don't want a technical exposition, do you?"
"No," Burris said, and added: "Not by any means. Just tell us what it does."
Dr. O'Connor suddenly reminded Malone of a professor he'd had in college for one of the law courses. He had, Malone thought, the same smiling gravity of demeanor, the same condescending attitude of absolute authority. It was clear that Dr. O'Connor lived in a world of his own, a world that was not even touched by the common run of men. ”

“ Malone," he said. "It's rather startling to look at a blithering idiot and have him suddenly repeat the very thought that's in your mind."
Malone nodded unhappily. It didn't seem as if O'Connor's information was going to be a lot of help as far as catching a telepath was concerned. An imbecile, apparently, would give himself away if he were a telepath. But nobody else seemed to be likely to do that. And imbeciles didn't look like very good material for catching spies with. Then he brightened. "Doctor, is it possible that the spy we're looking for really isn't a spy?" ”

“ Malone," Barbara Wilson said suddenly. "I—"
"It's all right, child," the Queen said. "He doesn't disturb me. And I do wish you'd call him Sir Kenneth. That's his title, you know."
"Now that's what I mean," Malone said. "Why do you want us to act as if we believe you, when you know we don't?"
"Because that's the way people do act," the Queen said calmly. "Very few people really believe that their so-called superiors are superior. Almost none of them do, in fact."
"Now wait a minute," Boyd began. ”

“ O'Connor and Dr. Gamble."
"And," said Lady Barbara, "me." She smiled sweetly at them all.
"Ah," the psychiatrist said. "Certainly. Of course." He retired into his group with some confusion.
Malone was looking straight at the throne. Her Majesty's countenance was serene and unruffled.
Barbara said suddenly: "You don't mean—but she—" and closed her mouth. Malone shot her one quick look, and then turned to the Queen.
"Well, Your Majesty?" he said. "You have seen the thoughts of every man here. How do they appear to you?" ”

“ But Boyd shook off the pain and brought out his own .44 as he stepped out of the car. Malone followed him, his gun trained.
From the rear, Her Majesty said: "It's safe to rise now, isn't it?"
"You ought to know," Malone said. "You can tell if they're still alive."
There was silence while Queen Elizabeth frowned for a moment in concentration. A look of pain crossed her face, and then, as her expression smoothed again, she said: "The traitors are dead. All except one, and he's—" She paused. "He's dying," she finished. "He can't hurt you." ”

“ The very mildness of his tone showed how worried the man was, Malone realized, and he set out for the first hospital on his own list with grim determination written all over his face and a heartbeat that seemed to hammer at him that his country expected every man to do his duty. ”

“ Dowson said: "Now, Mr. Malone, just what is all this about?" He rubbed his long hands together. "I fail to see the humor of the situation."
"Humor?" Malone said.
"Doctor," Barbara Wilson began, "let me explain. You see—"
"These ridiculous costumes," Dr. Dowson said, waving a hand at them. "You may feel that poking fun at insanity is humorous, Mr. Malone, but let me tell you—"
"It wasn't like that at all," Boyd said.
"And," Dr. Dowson continued in a somewhat louder voice, "wanting to take Mr. Logan away from us. Mr. Logan is a very sick man, Mr. Malone. He should be properly cared for." ”

“ O'Connor said, thawing perceptibly about the edges, "ought to allow a man to do his proper work, and not force him to go chasing off after the latest whims of some insane old lady."
"You will be there, now, won't you?" Malone asked. His own voice reminded him of something, and in a second he had it: the cooing, gentle persuasion of Dr. Andrew Blake of Rice Pavilion, who had locked Malone in a padded cell. It was the voice of a man talking to a mental case. ”

“ Malone said. "Let's get right down to business, then. The first thing I want to ask you about is this detector of yours. I understand it's too big to carry around—but how about making a smaller model?"
"Smaller?" Dr. O'Connor permitted himself a ghostly chuckle. "I'm afraid that isn't possible, Mr. Malone. I would be happy to let you have a small model of the machine if we had one available—more than happy. I would like to see such a machine myself, as a matter of fact. Unfortunately, Mr. Malone—"
"There just isn't one, right?" Malone said. ”

“ 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." ”

“ In other words, the Yucca Flats plant was infested with a telepathic spy. And how do you go about finding a telepath? Malone sighed. Spies that got information in any of the usual ways were tough enough to locate. A telepathic spy was a lot tougher proposition.
Well, one thing about Andrew J. Burris. He had an answer for everything. Malone thought of what his chief had said: "It takes a thief to catch a thief. And if the Westinghouse machine won't locate a telepathic spy, I know what will." ”

“ Burris said.
"Theoretically—" Dr. O'Connor began, and smiled again—"Theoretically, if your mind were being read, this machine would detect it, supposing that the machine were in operating condition and all of the other qualifications had been met. You see, Mr. Burris, no matter how poor a telepath a man may be, he has some slight ability—even if only very slight—to detect the fact that his mind is being read."
"You mean, if somebody was reading my mind, I'd know it?" Burris said. His face showed, Malone realized, that he plainly disbelieved this statement. ”

“ Elizabeth I. She's a telepath, sure, but she's nuts."
"Queen Elizabeth?" Burris said. "Of England?"
"That's right," Malone said. He held his breath.
"Damn it," Burris exploded, "they've already got one!"
Malone sighed. "This is another one," he said. "Or, rather, the original one. She also claims she's immortal."
"Lives forever?" Burris said. "You mean like that?"
"Immortal," Malone said. "Right."
Burris nodded. Then he looked worried. "Tell me, Malone," he said.
"She isn't, is she?"
"Isn't immortal, you mean?" Malone said. Burris nodded. Malone said confidently: "Of course not." ”

“ It was on the plane back to Washington that Malone got his first inkling of an idea.
The only telepath that the Westinghouse boys had been able to turn up was Charles O'Neill, the youthful imbecile.
All right, then. Suppose there were another like him. Imbeciles weren't very difficult to locate. Most of them would be in institutions, and the others would certainly be on record. It might be possible to find someone, anyway, who could be handled and used as a tool to find a telepathic spy. ”