Brain Twister

It turned out to be a single, rather small white building with a fence around it. The fence bothered Malone a little, but there was no need to worry; this time he was introduced at once into Dr. O’Co

He looked, in person, just about the same as he’d looked on the FBI tapes. Malone closed the door of the office behind him, looked for a chair and didn’t find one. In Dr. O’Co

Malone took off his hat. He reached across the desk to shake hands with the telepathy expert, and Dr. O’Co

“Not at all,” Dr. O’Co

Malone shifted his feet. “I’m afraid I wasn’t very specific on the phone last night,” he said. “It wasn’t anything I wanted to discuss over a line that might have been tapped. You see, I’m on the telepathy case.”

Dr. O’Co

“Fine,” 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’Co

“There just isn’t one, right?” Malone said.

“Correct,” Dr. O’Co

“I’ll bet it is,” Malone said sympathetically, wishing he understood what Dr. O’Co

The telepathy expert sighed. “However,” he said, “we keep working at it.” Then he looked at Malone expectantly.

Malone shrugged. “Well, if I can’t carry the thing around, I guess that’s that,” he said. “But here’s the next question: do you happen to know the maximum range of a telepath? I mean: how far away can he get from another person and still read his mind?”

Dr. O’Co

“Little Charlie?”

“Charles O’Neill was the name of the telepath we worked with,” Dr. O’Co

“I remember,” Malone said. The name had been on one of the tapes, but he just hadn’t associated “Charles O’Neill” with “Little Charlie.” He felt as if he’d been caught with his homework undone. “How did you manage to find him, anyway?” he said. Maybe, if he knew how Westinghouse had found their imbecile-telepath, he’d have some kind of clue that would enable him to find one, too. Anyhow, it was worth a try.

“It wasn’t difficult in Charlie’s case,” Dr. O’Co

“You mean he talked about being a telepath?”

Dr. O’Co

“I’m sorry we didn’t get full video on this,” he said, “but we didn’t feel it was necessary.” He opened a panel in the upper surface of the desk, and slipped the spool in. “If you like, there are other tapes—”

“Maybe later,” Malone said.

Dr. O’Co

Then there was the hiss of empty tape, and a brisk masculine voice that overrode it:

“Westinghouse Laboratories,” it said, “sixteen April nineteen-seventy. Dr. Walker speaking. The voice you are about to hear belongs to Charles O’Neill: chronological age fourteen years, three months; mental age, approximately five years. Further data on this case will be found in the file O’Neill.”

There was a slight pause, filled with more tape hiss.

Then the voice began.

“…push the switch for record… in the park last Wednesday… and perhaps a different set of… poor kid never makes any sense in… trees and leaves all su

It was a childish, alto voice, gabbling in a monotone. A phrase would be spoken, the voice would hesitate for just an instant, and then another, totally disco

“…in receiving psychocerebral impulses there isn’t any… nonsense and nothing but nonsense all the… tomorrow or maybe Saturday with the girl… tube might be replaceable only if… something ought to be done for the… Saturday would be a good time for… work on the schematics tonight if…”

There was a click as the tape was turned off, and Dr. O’Co

“It doesn’t make much sense,” Malone said. “But the kid sure has a hell of a vocabulary for an imbecile.”

“Vocabulary?” Dr. O’Co

“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’Co

Malone nodded unhappily. It didn’t seem as if O’Co

Then he brightened. “Doctor, is it possible that the spy we’re looking for really isn’t a spy?”

“Eh?”

“I mean, suppose he’s an imbecile, too? I doubt whether an imbecile would really be a spy, if you see what I mean.”

Dr. O’Co