When the cloud of smoke around his head was dense enough to cut with a knife, he went back to more serious subjects. He didn"t have to worry too much about his mind being spied on; if Her Majesty couldn"t read his deepest thoughts, and the mind-changers weren"t throwing any bolts of static in his direction, he was safe.
Now, then, he told himself--and sneezed.
He shook his head, cursed slightly, and went on.
Now, then...
There was an organization, spread all over the Western world, and with secret branches, evidently, in the Soviet Union. The organization had to be an old one, because it had to have trained telepaths of such a high degree of efficiency that they could evade Her Majesty"s probing without her even being aware of the evasion. And training took time.
There was something else to consider, too. In order to organize to such a degree that they could wreak the efficient, complete havoc they were wreaking, the organization couldn"t be completely secret; there are always leaks, always suspicious events, and a secret society that covered all of those up would have no time for anything else.
So the organization had to be a known one, a known group, masquerading as something else.
So far, everything made sense. Malone took another deep, grateful puff on the cigar, and frowned. Where, he wondered, did he go from here?
He reached for a pencil and a piece of paper. He headed the paper: _Organization._ Then he started putting down what he knew about it, and what he"d figured out.
1. Large 2. Old 3. Disguised
It sounded just a little like Frankenstein"s Monster, so far. But what else did he know about it?
After a second"s thought, he murmured: "Nothing," and took another puff.
But that wasn"t quite true.
He knew one more thing about the organization. He knew they"d probably be immune to the confusion everybody else was suffering from. The organization would be--had to be--efficient. It would be composed of intelligent, superbly cooperative people, who could work together as a unit without in the least impairing their own individuality.
He reached for the list again, put down:
4. Efficient
And looked at it. Now it didn"t remind him quite so much of the Monster. But it didn"t look familiar, either. Who did he know, he thought, who was large, old, disguised and efficient?
It sounded like an improbable combination. He set the list down again, clearing off some of the papers the PRS had sent him to make room for it.
Then he stopped.
The papers the PRS had sent him...
And he"d gotten them so quickly, so efficiently...
They were a large organization...
And an old one...
He tossed the cigar in the general direction of the ashtray, grabbed the phone and jabbed at b.u.t.tons.
The girl who answered the phone looked familiar. She did not look very old, but she was large and she had to be disguised, Malone thought.
n.o.body could naturally have that many teeth.
"Psychical Research Society," she said. "Oh, Mr. Malone, good evening."
"Sir Lewis," Malone said. "Sir Lewis Carter. President. I want to talk to him. Hurry."
"Sir Lewis?" the girl said slowly. "Oh, I"m sorry, Mr. Malone, but the office is closed now for the day. And Sir Lewis has gone already. It"s after six o"clock, Mr. Malone, and the office is closed."
"Home number," Malone said desperately. "I"ve got to."
"Well, I can do that, Mr. Malone," she said, "but it wouldn"t do you any good, really. Because he went away on his vacation, and when he goes on his vacation he never tells us where. You know? He won"t be back for two or three weeks."
"Oog," Malone said, and thought for less than a second. "Miss Garbitsch," he said. "Lou. Got to talk to her. Now."
"Oh, I can"t do that, either, Mr. Malone," the toothy girl said. "All of the executive officers, they left already on their vacation. And that includes Miss Garbitsch, too. They just left a skeleton force here at the office."
"They"re all gone?" Malone said hollowly.
"That"s right," she said cheerfully. "As a matter of fact, I"m in charge now, and that"s why I"m staying so late. To sort of catch up on things. You know?"
"It"s very important," Malone said tensely. "You don"t know where any of them went? You don"t have any address?"
"None at all," she said. "I"m sorry, but that"s how it is. Maybe it"s strange, and maybe you"d ask questions, but I obey orders, and those"re my orders. To take over until they get back. They didn"t tell me where they went, and I didn"t ask."
"Great," Malone said. He wanted to shoot himself.
Lou was one of them. Of course she was; that was obvious now, when he thought about it. Lou was one of the secret group that was sabotaging practically everything.
And now they"d all gone. For two weeks--or for good.
The girl"s voice broke in on his thoughts.
"Oh, Mr. Malone," she said, "I"m sorry, but I just remembered. They left a note for you."
"A note?" Malone said.
"Sir Lewis said you might call," the girl said, "and he left a message. If you"ll hold on a minute I"ll read it to you."
Malone waited tensely. The girl found a slip of paper, blinked at it and read:
"My dear Malone, I"m afraid you are perfectly correct in your deductions; and, as you can see, that leaves us no alternative. Sorry.
Miss G. sends her apologies to you, as do I." The girl looked up.
"It"s signed by Sir Lewis," she said. "Does that mean anything to you, Mr. Malone?"
"I"m afraid it does," Malone said bleakly. "It means entirely too much."
12
After the great ma.s.s of teeth, vaguely surrounded by a face, had faded from Malone"s screen, he just sat there, looking at the dead, grey screen of the visiphone and feeling about twice as dead and at least three times as grey.