n a try for the men in the back seat.

* * * * *

He was sitting quietly on the edge of the rear seat when the Nevada
Highway Patrol cars drove up next to them. Barbara Wilson had stopped
screaming, but she was still sobbing on Malone's shoulder. "It's all
right," he told her, feeling ineffectual.

"I never saw anybody killed before," she said.

"It's all right," Malone said. "Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll
protect you."

He wondered if he meant it, and found, to his surprise, that he did.
Barbara Wilson sniffled and looked up at him. "Mr. Malone--"

"Ken," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Ken--I'm so afraid. I saw the hole in one of
the men's heads, when you fired--it was--"

"Don't think about it," Malone said. To him, the job had been an
unpleasant occurrence, but a job, that was all. He could see, though,
how it might affect people who were new to it.

"You're so brave," she said.

Malone tightened his arm around the girl's shoulder. "Just depend on
me," he said. "You'll be all right if you--"

The State Trooper walked up then, and looked at them. "Mr. Malone?" he
said. He seemed to be taken slightly aback at the costuming.

"That's right," Malone said. He pulled out his ID card and the little
golden badge. The State Patrolman looked at them, and looked back at
Malone.

"What's with the getup?" he said.

"FBI," Malone said, hoping his voice carried conviction. "Official
business."

"In costume?"

"Never mind about the details," Malone snapped.

"He's an FBI agent, sir," Barbara said. "And what are you?" the
Patrolman said. "Lady Jane Grey?"

"I'm a nurse," Barbara said. "A psychiatric nurse."

"For nuts?"

"For disturbed patients."

The Patrolman thought that over. "Hell, you've got the identity cards
and stuff," he said at last. "Maybe you've got a reason to dress up.
How would I know? I'm only a State Patrolman."

"Let's cut the monologue," Malone said savagely, "and get to
business."

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