ky and glanced with blinding force off the road. Sir
Thomas Boyd squinted at it through the rather incongruous sunglasses
he was wearing, while Malone wondered idly if it was the sunglasses,
or the rest of the world, that was an anachronism. But Sir Thomas kept
his eyes grimly on the road as he gunned the powerful Lincoln toward
the Yucca Flats Labs at eighty miles an hour.

Malone twisted himself around and faced the women in the back seat.
Past them, through the rear window of the Lincoln, he could see the
second car. It followed them gamely, carrying the newest addition to
Sir Kenneth Malone's Collection of Bats.

"Bats?" Her Majesty said suddenly, but gently. "Shame on you, Sir
Kenneth. These are poor, sick people. We must do our best to help
them--not to think up silly names for them. For shame!"

"I suppose so," Malone said wearily. He sighed and, for the fifth time
that day, he asked: "Does Your Majesty have any idea where our spy is
now?"

"Well, really, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said with the slightest of
hesitations, "it isn't easy, you know. Telepathy has certain laws,
just like everything else. After all, even a game has laws. Being
telepathic didn't help me to play poker--I still had to learn the
rules. And telepathy has rules, too. A telepath can easily confuse
another telepath by using some of those rules."

"Oh, fine," Malone said. "Well, have you got into contact with his
mind yet?"

"Oh, yes," Her Majesty said happily. "And my goodness, he's certainly
digging up a lot of information, isn't he?"

Malone moaned softly. "But who _is_ he?" he asked after a second.

The Queen stared at the roof of the car in what looked like
concentration. "He hasn't thought of his name yet," she said. "I mean,
at least, if he has, he hasn't mentioned it to me. Really, Sir
Kenneth, you have no idea how difficult all this is."

Malone swallowed with difficulty.

_"Where_ is he, then," said. "Can you tell me that, at least? His
location?"

Her Majesty looked positively desolated with sadness. "I can't be
sure," she said. "I really can't be exactly sure just where he is. He
does keep moving around, I know that. But you have to remember that he
doesn't want me to find him. He certainly doesn't want to be found by
the FBI--would you?"

"Your Majesty," Malone said, "I _am_ the FBI."

"Yes," the Queen said, "but suppose you weren't? He's doing his best
to hide himself, even from me. It's sort of a game he's playing.