cature of the Manelli voice. In order for all three
to teleport, there had to be perfect synchronization.

Otherwise, they'd have arrived either at different places, or at the
same place but at different times.

And perfect synchronization on a psionic level meant telepathy. At
least two of the three had to be telepathic. Her Majesty was, of
course. Malone wasn't.

So Lou had to be telepathic, too.

Malone told himself bitterly to quit calling the girl Lou. After the
way she'd deceived him, she didn't deserve it. Her name was Luba
Garbitsch, and from now on he was going to call her Luba Garbitsch. In
his own mind, anyway.

Facts came tumbling in on him like the side of a mountain, falling on
a hapless traveler during a landslide. And, Malone told himself, he
had never had less help in all of his ill-starred life.

Her Majesty had never, never suspected that Luba Garbitsch was
anything other than the girl she pretended to be. That was negative
evidence, true, and taken alone it meant nothing at all. But when you
added the other facts to it, it showed, with perfect plainness, that
Luba Garbitsch was the fortunate possessor of a mind shield as tough,
as strong and as perfect as any Malone, O'Connor or good old Cartier
Taylor had ever even thought of dreaming up.

And then, very suddenly, another fact arrived, and pushed the rest out
into the black night of Malone's bitter mind. He punched hard on the
intercom button and got the desk of the agent-in-charge.

"Now what's wrong?" the A-in-C said. "Ghosts got loose? Or do you want
some help with a beautiful blonde heiress?"

"What would I be doing," Malone snapped, "with a beautiful blonde
heiress?"

The agent-in-charge looked thoughtful. It was obvious that he had been
saving his one joke up for several hours. "You might be holding her,"
he suggested, "for ransom, of course."

"That's not funny," Malone said. "Nothing is funny any more."

"Oh, all right," the A-in-C said. "You Washington boys are just too
good for the rest of us. What's on your mind?"

"You've got a twenty-four-hour watch on Luba Garbitsch, haven't you?"
Malone said.

"Sure we have," the A-in-C said. "Boyd said--"

"Yes, I know what he said," Malone cut in. "Give me a check on those
men. I want to find out where she is right now. Right this minute."

The agent-in-charge shrugged. "Sure," he said. "It's none of my
business. Hang on a second."

The screen went blank, but it didn't go silen