more important: _Where was Miguel Fueyo?_

It was obvious that he'd vanished on purpose. And it hadn't just been
something he'd recently discovered. He had known all along that he
could pull the trick; if he hadn't known that, he wouldn't have done
what he had done beforehand. No seventeen-year-old boy, no matter what
he was, would give the FBI the raspberry unless he was pretty sure he
could get away with it.

Malone remembered the raspberry and winced slightly. The cab driver
called back, "Anything wrong, buddy?"

"Everything," Malone said. "But don't worry about it."

The cab driver shrugged and turned back to the wheel. Malone went back
to Mike Fueyo.

The kid could make himself vanish at will.

Invisibility?

Malone thought about that for a while. The fact that it was impossible
didn't decide him against it. Everything was impossible; that much was
clear. But he didn't think Mike Fueyo had just become invisible. No.
There had been the sense of presence actually leaving the room. If
Mike had become invisible and stayed, Malone was sure he wouldn't have
felt the boy leave.

Mike had not just become invisible. (_And what do I mean, "just"?_
Malone asked himself unhappily.) He had gone--elsewhere.

This brought him back full circle to his original question. Where was
the boy now? But he ignored it for a minute or two as another, even
more difficult query presented itself.

_Never mind where_, Malone told himself. _How?_

Something was bothering him. Malone realized that it had been
bothering him for a long time. At last he managed to locate it and
hold it up to the light for inspection.

Dr. O'Connor, the psionics expert at Westinghouse, had mentioned
something during Malone's last conversation with him. Dr. O'Connor,
who'd invented a telepathy detector, had been discussing further
reaches in his field.

"After all," he'd said, "if thoughts can bridge any distance whatever,
regardless of other barriers, there is no reason why matter could not
do likewise."

"But it doesn't," Malone had said. "Or at least it hasn't so far."

"There's no way to be sure of that," Dr. O'Connor had said sternly.
"After all, we have no reports of it--but that means little. Our
search has only begun."

"Oh," Malone had said. "Sure."

"Matter, controlled by thought, might bridge distances
instantaneously," Dr. O'Connor had said.

And he'd referred to something, some word...

_Teleportation._

That was it. Malone sa