mething Malone didn't even want to think about.

He let himself into his room, and was taking off his shoes with a
grateful sigh when there was a rap on the door of the bathroom that
connected his room with Boyd's. Malone padded over to the door, his
shoes in one hand. "Tom?" he said.

[Illustration]

"You were expecting maybe Titus Moody?" Boyd called.

"O.K.," Malone said. "Come on in."

Boyd pushed open the door. He was stripped to the waist, a state of
dress which showed the largest expanse of chest Malone had ever seen,
and he was carrying the small scissors which he used to trim his Henry
VIII beard. He stabbed the scissors toward Malone, who shuffled back
hurriedly.

"Listen," Boyd said, "did you call the office after you left this
afternoon?"

"No," Malone admitted. "Why? What happened?"

"There was a call for you," Boyd said. "Long Distance, just before I
left at five. I came on back to the hotel and waited until I heard you
come in. Thought you might want to know about it."

"I do, I guess," Malone said. "Who from?" Looking at Boyd, a modern-day
Henry VIII, the association was too obvious to be missed. Malone thought
of Good Queen Bess, and wondered why she was calling him again.

And--more surprising--why she'd called him at FBI headquarters, when she
must have known that he wasn't there.

"Dr. O'Connor," Boyd said.

"Oh," Malone said, somewhat relieved. "At Yucca Flats."

Boyd nodded. "Right," he said. "You're to call Operator Nine."

"Thanks." Malone went over to the phone, remembered his shoes and put
them down carefully on the floor. "Anything else of importance?" he
asked.

"On the Cadillacs," Boyd said. "We've got a final report now. Leibowitz
and Hardin finally finished checking the last of them--there weren't
quite as many as we were afraid there were going to be. Red isn't a very
popular color around here."

"Good," Malone said.

"And there isn't a doggone thing on any of 'em," Boyd said. "Oh, we
cleared up a lot of small-time crime, one thing and another, but that's
about all. No such thing as an electro-psionic brain to be found
anywhere in the lot. Leibowitz says he's willing to swear to it."

Malone sighed. "I didn't think he'd find one," he said.

"You didn't?"

"No," Malone said.

Boyd stabbed at him with the scissors again. "Then why did you cause all
that trouble?" he said.

"Because I thought we might find electro-psionic brains," Malone said
wearily. "Or one, a