r for Henry VIII of England even without his Henry-like fringe
of beard and his mustache. With them--thanks to the recent FBI rule that
agents could wear "facial hair, at the discretion of the director or
such board as he may appoint"--the resemblance to the Tudor monarch was
uncanny.

But--like his famous double--Boyd didn't stay sad for long. "I thought
I'd meet you at the station," he said, cheering up, "and maybe talk over
old times for a while, on the way to the hotel, anyhow. So long as there
wasn't anything else to do."

"Sure," Malone said. "It's good to see you again. And when did you get
pulled out of the Frisco office?"

Boyd grimaced. "You know," he said, "I had a good thing going for me out
there. Agent-in-Charge of the entire office. But right after that job we
did together--the Queen Elizabeth affair--Burris decided I was too good
a man to waste my fragrance on the desert air. Or whatever it is. So he
recalled me, assigned me from the home office, and I've been on one case
after another ever since."

"You're a home office agent now?" Malone said.

"I'm a Roving Reporter," Boyd said, and struck a pose. "I'm a General
Trouble-shooter and a Mr. Fix-It. Just like you, Hero."

"Thanks," Malone said. "How about the local office here? Seen the boys
yet?"

Boyd shook his head. "Not yet," he said. "I was waiting for you to show
up. But I did manage hotel rooms with a connecting bath over at the
Statler-Hilton Hotel. Nice place. You'll like it, Ken."

"I'll love it," Malone said. "Especially that connecting bath. It would
have been terrible to have an unconnecting bath. Sort of distracting."

"O.K.," Boyd said. "O.K. You know what I mean." He stared down at
Malone's hand. "You know you've still got your lighter on?" he added.

Malone looked down at it and shut it off. "You asked me to hold it," he
said.

"I didn't mean indefinitely," Boyd said. "Anyhow, how about grabbing a
cab and heading on down to the hotel to get your stuff away, before we
check in at Sixty-ninth Street?"

"Good idea," Malone said. "And besides, I could do with a clean shirt.
Not to mention a bath."

"Trains get worse and worse," Boyd said, absently.

* * * * *

Malone punched the redcap's buttons again, and he and Boyd followed it
through the crowded station to the taxi stand. The robot piled the
suitcases into the cab, and somehow Malone and Boyd found room for
themselves.

"Statler-Hilton H