" Brubitsch said. "Or, if we had a scrap of paper,
we saved it for Garbitsch and gave it to him. But I remember once that
I had some paper. It had a formula on it. I do not know what the
formula said."

"What was it about?" Malone said.

Brubitsch gave a massive shrug. "It was about an X and some numbers,"
he said. "It was not very interesting, but it was a formula, and
Garbitsch would have liked it. Unfortunately, I did not give it to
him."

"Why not?" Boyd said.

"I am ashamed," Brubitsch said, looking ashamed. "I was lighting a
cigarette in the afternoon, when I had the formula. It is a very
relaxing thing to smoke a cigarette in the afternoon. It is soothing
to the soul." He looked very sad. "I was holding the piece of paper in
one hand," he said. "Unfortunately, the match and the paper came into
contact. I burned my finger. Here." He stuck out a finger toward
Malone and Boyd, who looked at it without much interest for a second.
"The paper is gone," he said. "Don't tell Garbitsch. He is very
inflamed."

Malone sighed. "But you remember the formula," he said. "Don't you?"

Brubitsch shook his massive head very slowly. "It was not very
interesting," he said. "And I do not have a mathematical mind."

"We know," Malone said. "You are a small child."

"It was terrible," Brubitsch said. "Garbitsch was not happy about our
activities."

"What did Garbitsch do with the information?" Boyd said.

"He passed it on," Brubitsch said. "Every week he would send a
short-wave message to the homeland, in code. Some weeks he did not
send the message."

"Why not?" Malone said.

"The radio did not work," Brubitsch said simply. "We received orders
by short-wave, but sometimes we did not receive the orders. The radio
was of very poor quality, and some weeks it refused to send any
messages. On other weeks, it refused to receive any messages."

"Who was your contact in Russia?" Boyd said.

"A man named X," Brubitsch said. "Like in the formula."

"But what was his real name?" Malone said.

"Who knows?" Brubitsch said. "Does it matter?"

"What else did you do?" Boyd said.

"We met twice a week," Brubitsch said. "Sometimes in Garbitsch's home,
sometimes in other places. Sometimes we had information. At other
times, we were friends, having a social gathering."

"Friends?" Malone said.

Brubitsch nodded. "We drank together, talked, played chess. Garbitsch
is the best chess player in the group. I am not very good. But on