it. It fell away, exposing
the initials SM carefully worked into his shirt. Second Mistake, Malone
thought wildly, muttered: "Sorry," again and turned west, feeling fairly
grateful to the unfortunate bystander.

He had reminded Malone of one thing. If he wanted to get even a part of
his plan past the drawing-board stage, he had to make a phone call in a
hurry.

He found a phone booth in a bar called the Ad Lib, at Madison Avenue.
Sternly telling himself that he was stopping there to make a phone call,
a business phone call, and not to have a drink, he marched right past
the friendly bartender and went into the phone booth, where he made a
call to New York Police Commissioner John Henry Fernack.

Fernack's face was that of an old man, but there was no telling how old.
The early seventies was one guess, Malone imagined; the late fifties
might be another. He looked tough, as if he had spent all of his life
trying to persuade other people that he was young enough for the
handball tournament. When he saw Malone, his eyebrows lifted slightly,
but he didn't say anything.

"Commissioner," Malone said, "I called to ask you to do me a favor."

There was caution hidden in the calm and quiet voice. "Well," Fernack
said, "what is it, Malone?"

"Can you have all the robberies for a given period run through the
computer?" Malone said. "I need some dope."

"Depends on the given period," Fernack said. "I can't do it for 1774."

"What would I need data on robberies in 1774 for?" Malone said, honestly
interested.

"I never question the FBI," Fernack said soberly. "But what dates do you
want?"

"The past year, maybe the past year and a half."

"And what data?"

"I want every reported crime that hasn't been solved," Malone said,
"which also seems to have been committed by some impossible means. A
safe that was robbed without being opened, for instance--that's the kind
of thing I mean."

"Every unsolved crime?" Fernack said. "Now, hold your horses, Malone.
I'm not at all sure that--"

"Don't worry about a thing, commissioner," Malone said. "This is
confidential."

"You know how I'd feel about this if word ever got out to--"

"I said confidential, John Henry," Malone said, trying to sound friendly
and trustworthy. "After all, every place has unsolved crimes. Even the
FBI isn't absolutely perfect."

"Oh," Fernack said. "Sure. But confidential, Malone."

"You have my word," Malone said sincerely.

Fernack said: "Well--