chen to start heating water for coffee.
There was, he told himself, a long night ahead of him. He sighed
gently. But there was no help for it; the work had to be done--and
done quickly.

But when eight cigars had been reduced to ash, and what seemed like
several gallons of coffee had sloshed their way into Malone's interior
workings, his mind was as blank as a baby's. The lovely, opalescent
dawn began to show in the East, and Malone tendered it some extremely
rude words. Then, Haggard, red-eyed, confused, violently angry, and
not one inch closer to a solution, he fell into a fitful doze on his
couch.

* * * * *

When he awoke, the sun was high in the sky, and outside his window the
cheerful sound of too much traffic floated in the air. Downstairs
somebody was playing a television set too loudly, and the voice
reached Malone's semiaware mind in a great tinny shout:

"The President, taking action on the current crisis, has declared martial
law throughout the nation," a voice said in an important-sounded
monotone. "Exempt from this proclamation are members of the Armed
Services, Special Agents and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The
proclamation, issued this morning, was made public in a special news
conference which--"

Malone ripped out a particularly foul oath and sat up on the couch.
"That," he muttered, "is a fine thing to wake up to." He focused his
eyes, with only slight difficulty, on his watch. The time was a little
after two.

"Later developments will be reported as and when they occur," the
announcer was saying, "and in one hour a special panel of newscasters
will be assembled here to discuss this latest action in the light of
present happenings. Any special rules and regulations will be
broadcast over this station--"

"Shut up," Malone said. He had wasted a lot of time doing nothing but
sleeping, he told himself. This was no time to be listening to
television. He got up and found, to his vague surprise, that he felt a
lot better and clearer-headed than he had been. Maybe the sleep had
actually done him some good.

He yawned, blinked and stretched, and then padded into the bathroom
for a shower and shave. After he'd changed he thought about a morning
or afternoon cup of coffee, but last night's dregs appeared to have
taken up permanent residence in his digestive tract, and he decided
against it at last. He swallowed some orange juice and toast and
then, heaving a g