Part 28 (1/2)

He stopped. Lynch looked up at him. ”How screwy can it get?” he said.

”The facts are nutty enough.”

”You have absolutely no idea,” Malone a.s.sured him. ”I'm not even saying a word about this, not until I prove it out one way or another.

I'm not even thinking about it--not until it stops sounding so nutty to me.”

”Okay, Malone,” Lynch said. ”I can see a piece of it, if no more. The Fueyo kid vanishes mysteriously--never mind all that about you getting him out of the interrogation room by some kind of confidential method.

There isn't any confidential method. I know that better than you do.”

”I had to say something, didn't I?” Malone asked apologetically.

”So the kid disappears,” Lynch said, brus.h.i.+ng Malone's question away with a wave of his hand. ”So now I hear all this stuff from Kettleman.

And it begins to add up. The kids can disappear somehow, and reappear some place else. Walk through walls?” He shrugged. ”How should I know?

But they can sure as h.e.l.l do something like it.”

”Something,” Malone said. ”Like I said, it sounds screwy.”

”I don't like it,” Lynch said.

Malone nodded. ”n.o.body likes it,” he said. ”But keep it under your hat. I'll give you everything I have--whenever I have anything. And by the way--”

”Yes?” Lynch said.

”Thanks for giving me and Kettleman a chance to talk,” Malone said.

”Even if you had reasons of your own.”

”Oh,” Lynch said. ”You mean the recording.”

”I was a little suspicious,” Malone said. ”I didn't think you'd give Kettleman to me without getting _something_ for yourself.”

”Would you?” Lynch said.

Malone shrugged. ”I'm not crazy either,” he said.

Lynch picked up a handful of papers. ”I've got all this work to do,”

he said. ”So I'll see you later.”

”Okay,” Malone said.

”And if you need my help, buddy-boy,” Lynch said, ”just yell. Right?”

”I'll yell,” Malone said. ”Don't worry about that. I'll yell loud enough to get myself heard in s.p.a.ce Station One.”

9

The afternoon was bright and sunny, but it didn't match Malone's mood.

He got a cab outside the precinct station and headed for 69th Street, dining off his nails en route. When he hit the FBI headquarters, he called Was.h.i.+ngton and got Burris on the line.