A Spaceship Named: 45 Sci-Fi Novels & Stories in One Volume. Randall Garrett

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      XV

       Table of Contents

      It is definitely not usual for the Director of the FBI to come stalking into a local office of that same FBI without so much as an advance warning or a by-your-leave. Such things are simply not done.

      Andrew J. Burris, however, was doing them.

      Three days after the Great Warehouse Fiasco, a startled A-in-C looked up to see the familiar Burris figure stalk by his office, growling under its breath. The A-in-C leaped to the interoffice phone, wondered whom he ought to call first, and subsided, staring dully at the telephone screen and thinking about retiring.

      The next appearance of the head of the FBI was in the office assigned to Malone and Boyd. Burris came through the doorway without warning, his countenance that of a harried and unhappy man.

      Malone looked up, blinked, and then readjusted his features to what he imagined was a nice, bright smile. "Oh," he said. "Hello, chief. I've been sort of expecting you."

      "I'll bet you have," Burris said. He set his brief case on Malone's desk and pulled a sheaf of papers from it. "Do you see these?" he said, waving them. "Inquiries. Complaints. Demands. From everybody. I've been getting them for three days."

      "Sure are a lot of them," Malone said at random.

      "From Police Commissioner Fernack," Burris said. "From the mayor. From the governor, in Albany. From everybody. And they all want an explanation. They demand one."

      He sat down suddenly on Malone's desk, his anger gone.

      "Well—" Malone began.

      "Malone," Burris said plaintively, "I can stall them off for a while. I can tell them all kinds of fancy stories. I don't mind. They don't really need any explanation. But—" He paused, and then added: "I do!"

      Malone closed his eyes, decided things looked even worse that way, and opened them again. "Just what sort of an explanation did you have in mind, chief?" he said.

      "Any kind," Burris said instantly, "so long as it explains. I ... no."

      "No?"

      "No," Burris said. "I want the truth! Even if it doesn't explain anything! Preferably, I want both—the truth and some explanations. If possible. For three days, now, this area has been haunted by the Silent Spooks. They've been stealing everything they could carry off! They've got the whole city in an uproar!"

      "Well," Malone said. "Not exactly. The papers—"

      "I know," Burris said. "You've kept it out of the news. That's fine, and I appreciate it, Malone. I really do. But I can't sit around and appreciate it much longer. You've got to get those boys!" He bounced off the desk and stood up again. "The longer they keep this up," he said, "the harder it's going to be to square everything with the courts. Those kids may end up getting killed! And how would that be?"

      "Terrible," Malone said honestly.

      "Something," Burris summed up, "has to be done."

      Malone thought for a second. "Chief," he said at last, "if you can think of any way to nab them, I'll certainly be grateful."

      "Oh," Burris said. "Oh. No. No, Malone. This is your baby." He leaned over and clapped Malone on the shoulder. "I have faith in you," he said. "You cleared up that nutty telepath case and you can clear this one up, too. But you've got to do it soon!"

      "I'm working on it," Malone said helplessly. "We might get a lead any time now."

      "Good," Burris said. "Meanwhile, let's sit down and see if we can't figure out a way to pacify the local bigwigs."

      Malone sighed wearily.

      An hour later, he was even more tired. Letting himself into his room at the hotel, he felt completely exhausted. He had spent most of the hour tactfully trying to get away from Burris. It had not been the world's easiest job.

      Dorothea Fueyo was sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

      Immediately, he felt much better.

      "You're late," Dorothea said accusingly. "I had to come up with the duplicate key you gave me. And what are the bellboys going to think?"

      "They're going to think you had a duplicate key," Malone said. "Anyhow, I'm sorry. I got delayed at the office. Burris came to town—delivering seventeen ultimatums, forty-nine conflicting sets of orders and a rousing lecture."

      "I could have come up to your office, then," Dorothea said, "instead of compromising my reputation by sneaking up to your hotel room."

      "And what about my reputation?" Malone said. "Besides, the office is no place for what I have in mind."

      "Why, Mr. Malone!"

      Malone ignored the comment. "Did you bring the notebook?" he said.

      "Certainly." Dorothea handed a black, plastic-bound notebook over to Malone. "But what's all this with a notebook? Going СКАЧАТЬ