lepathic
spy. And how do you go about finding a telepath? Malone sighed. Spies
that got information in any of the usual ways were tough enough to
locate. A telepathic spy was a lot tougher proposition.

Well, one thing about Andrew J. Burris--he had an answer for everything.
Malone thought of what his chief had said: "It takes a thief to catch a
thief. And if the Westinghouse machine won't locate a telepathic spy, I
know what will."

"What?" Malone had asked.

"It's simple," Burris had said. "Another telepath. There has to be one
around somewhere. Westinghouse _did_ have one, after all, and the
Russians _still_ have one. Malone, that's your job: go out and find me a
telepath."

Burris had an answer for everything, all right, Malone thought. But he
couldn't see where the answer did him very much good. After all, if it
takes a telepath to catch a telepath, how do you catch the telepath
you're going to use to catch the first telepath?

[Illustration]

Malone ran that through his mind again, and then gave it up. It sounded
as if it should have made sense, somehow, but it just didn't, and that
was all there was to that.

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and mashed it out with the toe
of his shoe. Then he looked up.

Out there, over the water, was the Jefferson Memorial. It stood, white
in the floodlights, beautiful and untouchable in the darkness. Malone
stared at it. What would Thomas Jefferson have done in a crisis like
this?

Jefferson, he told himself without much conviction, would have been just
as confused as he was.

But he'd have had to find a telepath, Malone thought. Malone determined
that he would do likewise. If Thomas Jefferson could do it, the least
he, Malone, could do was to give it a good try.

There was only one little problem:

_Where_, Malone thought, _do I start looking?_

II

Early the next morning, Malone awoke on a plane, heading across the
continent toward Nevada. He had gone home to sleep, and he'd had to wake
up to get on the plane, and now here he was, waking up again. It seemed,
somehow, like a vicious circle.

The engines hummed gently as they pushed the big ship through the middle
stratosphere's thinly distributed molecules. Malone looked out at the
purple-dark sky and set himself to think out his problem again.

He was still mulling things over when the ship lowered its landing gear
and rolled to a stop on the big field near Yucca Flats. Malone sighed
and c