That Sweet Little Old Lady Part 13

"Pretty bad," Burris said. "As a matter of fact, very bad. Miss Thompson may be off her trolley, but the others haven't even got any tracks." He paused. "What's that got to do with it?" he said.

"Well," Malone said, "I figured we'd better handle Miss Thompson with kid gloves--at least until we find a better telepath to work with." He didn't mention Barbara Wilson. The chief, he told himself, didn't want to be bothered with details.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Doggone right you'd better," Burris said. "You treat that old lady as if she were the Queen herself, understand?"

"Don't worry," Malone said unhappily. "We are." He hesitated. "She says she'll help us find our spy, all right, but we've got to do it her way--or else she won't co-operate."

"Do it her way, then," Burris said. "That spy--"

"Chief, are you sure?"

Burris blinked. "Well, then," he said, "what _is_ her way?"

Malone took a deep breath. "First," he said, "we had to come here and pick this guy up. This William Logan, who's in a private sanitarium just outside of Las Vegas. That's number one. Miss Thompson wants to get all the telepaths together, so they can hold mental conversations or something."

"And all of them batty," Burris said.

"Sure," Malone said. "A convention of nuts--and me in the middle.

Listen, chief--"

"Later," Burris said. "When this is over we can all resign, or go fis.h.i.+ng, or just plain shoot ourselves. But right now the national security is primary, Malone. Remember that."

"O.K.," Malone sighed. "O.K. But she wants all the nuts here."

"Go along with her," 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."

Burris exploded: "Is that all? New clothes? Get 'em. Put 'em on the expense account. New clothes are a drop in the bucket."

"Well ... she thinks we need new clothes, too."

"Maybe you do," Burris said. "Put the whole thing on the expense account. You don't think I'm going to quibble about a few dollars, do you?"

"Well--"

"Get the clothes. Just don't bother me with details like this. Handle the job yourself, Malone--you're in charge out there. And get to Yucca Flats as soon as possible."

Malone gave up. "Yes, sir," he said.

"All right, then," Burris said. "Call me tomorrow. Meanwhile--good luck, Malone. Chin up."

Malone said: "Yes, sir," and reached for the switch. But Burris' voice stopped him.

"Just one thing," he said.

"Yes, chief?" Malone said.

Burris frowned. "Don't spend any more for the clothes than you have to,"

he said.

Malone nodded, and cut off.

When the director's image had vanished, he got up and went to the window of the hotel room. Outside, a huge sign told the world, and Malone, that this was the Thunderbird-Hilton-Zeckendorf Hotel, but Malone ignored it.

He didn't need a sign; he knew where he was.

In hot water, he thought. _That's_ where he was.

Behind him, the door opened. Malone turned as Boyd came in.

"I found a costume shop, Ken," he said.

"Great," Malone said. "The chief authorized it."

"He did?" Boyd's round face fell at the news.

"He said to buy her whatever she wants. He says to treat her like a queen."

"That," Boyd said, "we're doing now."

"I know it," Malone said. "I know it altogether too well."

"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, "the costume shop doesn't do us any good. They've only got cowboy stuff and bullfighters' costumes and Mexican stuff--you know, for their h.e.l.ldorado Week here."

"You didn't give up, did you?" Malone said.

Boyd shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "Ken, this is on the expense account, isn't it?"

"Expense account," Malone said. "Sure it is."

Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he said. "Because I had the proprietor phone her size in, to New York."

"Better get two of 'em," Malone said. "The chief said anything she wanted, she was supposed to have."

"I'll go back right away. I told him we wanted the stuff on the afternoon plane, so--"

"And give him Bar ... Miss Wilson's size, and yours, and mine. Tell him to dig up something appropriate."

"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly.

"For us," Malone said grimly.