Brain Twister

The Patrolman stared. Then he said: “All right, sir. Yes, sir. I’m Lieutenant Adams, Mr. Malone. Suppose you tell me what happened?”

Carefully and concisely, Malone told him the story of the Buick that had pulled up beside them, and what happened afterward.

Meanwhile, the other cops had been looking over the wreck. When Malone had finished his story, Lieutenant Adams flipped his notebook shut and looked over toward them. “I guess it’s okay, sir,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s justifiable homicide. Self-defense. Any reason why they’d want to kill you?”

Malone thought about the Golden Palace. That might be a reason — but it might not. And why burden an i

“Official,” he said. “Your chief will get the report.”

The Patrolman nodded. “I’ll have to take a deposition tomorrow, but—”

“I know,” Malone said. “Thanks. Can we go on to our hotel now?”

“I guess,” the Patrolman said. “Go ahead. We’ll take care of the rest of this. You’ll be getting a call later.”

“Fine,” Malone said. “Trace those hoods, and any co

Lieutenant Adams nodded. “You won’t have to leave the state, will you?” he asked. “I don’t mean that you can’t, exactly — hell, you’re FBI. But it’d be easier—”

“Call Burris in Washington,” Malone said. “He can get hold of me — and if the Governor wants to know where we are, or the State’s Attorney, put them in touch with Burris too. Okay?”

“Okay,” Lieutenant Adams said. “Sure.” He blinked at Malone. “Listen,” he said. “About those costumes—”

“We’re trying to catch Henry VIII for the murder of A

“I was only asking,” Lieutenant Adams said. “Can’t blame a man for asking, now, can you?”

Malone climbed into his front seat. “Call me later,” he said. The car started. “Back to the hotel, Sir Thomas,” Malone said, and the car roared off.

Chapter 7

Yucca Flats, Malone thought, certainly deserved its name. It was about as flat as land could get, and it contained millions upon millions of useless yuccas. Perhaps they were good for something, Malone thought, but they weren’t good for him.

The place might, of course, have been called Cactus Flats, but the cacti were neither as big nor as impressive as the yuccas.

Or was that yucci?

Possibly, Malone mused, it was simply yucks.

And whatever it was, there were millions of it. Malone felt he couldn’t stand the sight of another yucca. He was grateful for only one thing.

It wasn’t summer. If the Elizabethans had been forced to drive in closed cars through the Nevada desert in the summertime, they might have started a cult of nudity, Malone felt. It was bad enough now, in what was supposed to be winter.

The sun was certainly bright enough, for one thing. It glared through the cloudless sky and glanced with blinding force off the road. Sir Thomas Boyd squinted at it through the rather incongruous sunglasses he was wearing, while Malone wondered idly if it was the sunglasses, or the rest of the world, that was an anachronism. But Sir Thomas kept his eyes grimly on the road as he gu

Malone twisted himself around and faced the women in the back seat. Past them, through the rear window of the Lincoln, he could see the second car. It followed them gamely, carrying the newest addition to Sir Ke

“Bats?” Her Majesty said suddenly, but gently. “Shame on you, Sir Ke

“I suppose so,” Malone said wearily. He sighed and, for the fifth time that day, he asked: “Does Your Majesty have any idea where our spy is now?”

“Well, really, Sir Ke

“Oh, fine,” Malone said. “Well, have you got into contact with his mind yet?”

“Oh, yes,” Her Majesty said happily. “And my goodness, he’s certainly digging up a lot of information, isn’t he?”

Malone moaned softly. “But who is he?” he asked after a second.

The Queen stared at the roof of the car in what looked like concentration. “He hasn’t thought of his name yet,” she said. “I mean, at least, if he has, he hasn’t mentioned it to me. Really, Sir Ke

Malone swallowed with difficulty. “Where is he, then,” he said. “Can you tell me that, at least? His location?”

Her Majesty looked positively desolated with sadness. “I can’t be sure,” she said. “I really can’t be exactly sure just where he is. He does keep moving around, I know that. But you have to remember that he doesn’t want me to find him. He certainly doesn’t want to be found by the FBI — would you?”

“Your Majesty,” Malone said, “I am the FBI.”

“Yes,” the Queen said, “but suppose you weren’t? He’s doing his best to hide himself, even from me. It’s sort of a game he’s playing.”

“A game!”

Her Majesty looked contrite. “Believe me, Sir Ke

“All right,” Malone said, out of sheer necessity. “Okay. But don’t waste any time telling me. Do it right away. We’ve got to find that spy and isolate him somehow.”

“Please don’t worry yourself, Sir Ke

“I know that, Your Majesty,” Malone said. “I’m sure of it.” Privately, he wondered just how much even she could do. Then he realized — for perhaps the ten-thousandth time — that there was no such thing as wondering privately any more.

“That’s quite right, Sir Ke

“What’s going on?” Boyd said. “More reading minds back there?”

“That’s right, Sir Thomas,” the Queen said.

“I’ve about gotten used to it,” Boyd said almost cheerfully. “Pretty soon they’ll come and take me away, but I don’t mind at all.” He whipped the car around a bend in the road savagely. “Pretty soon they’ll put me with the other sane people and let the bats inherit the world. But I don’t mind at all.”

“Sir Thomas!” Her Majesty said in shocked tones.

“Please,” Boyd said with a deceptive calmness. “Just Mr. Boyd. Not even Lieutenant Boyd, or Sergeant Boyd. Just Mr. Boyd. Or, if you prefer, Tom.”

“Sir Thomas,” Her Majesty said, “I really can’t understand this sudden—”

“Then don’t understand it,” Boyd said. “All I know is everybody’s nuts, and I’m sick and tired ot it.”

A pall of silence fell over the company.

“Look, Tom,” Malone began at last.

“Don’t you try smoothing me down,” Boyd snapped.

Malone’s eyebrows rose. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t smooth you down. I’ll just tell you to shut up, to keep driving — and to show some respect to Her Majesty.”

“I—” Boyd stopped. There was a second of silence.

“That’s better,” Her Majesty said with satisfaction.

Lady Barbara stretched in the back seat, next to Her Majesty. “This is certainly a long drive,” she said. “Have we got much farther to go?”

“Not too far,” Malone said. “We ought to be there soon.”

“I — I’m sorry for the way I acted,” Barbara said.