acting up," Burris
said. "If you want details--"

"I don't think I can stand them," Malone said.

"Some of the Russian and Chinese releases have come through with the
meaning slightly altered," Burris went on doggedly. "And I want you to
check on it right away. I--"

"Thank God," Malone said.

Burris blinked. "What?"

"Never mind," Malone said. "Never mind. I'm glad you told me, Chief.
I'll get to work on it right away, and--"

"You do that, Malone," Burris said. "And stop calling me Chief! Do I
look like an Indian? Do I have feathers in my hair?"

"Anything," Malone said grandly, "is possible." He broke the
connection in a hurry.

III

The summer sun beat down on the white city of Washington, D. C. as if
it had mistaken its instructions slightly, and was convinced that the
city had been put down somewhere in the Sahara. The sun seemed
confused, Malone thought. If this were the Sahara, obviously there was
no reason whatever for the Potomac to be running through it. The sun
was doing its best to correct this small error, however, by exerting
even more heat in a valiant attempt to dry up the river.

Its attempt was succeeding, at least partially. The Potomac was still
there, but quite a lot of it was not in the river bed any more.
Instead, it had gone into the air, which was so humid by now that
Malone was willing to swear that it was splashing into his lungs at
every inhalation. Resisting an impulse to try the breast-stroke, he
stood in the full glare of the straining sun, just outside the Senate
Office Building. He looked across at the Capitol, squinting his eyes
manfully against the glare of its dome in the brightness.

The Capitol was, at any rate, some relief from the sight of Thomas
Boyd and a group of agents busily grilling two technicians. That was
going on in the Senate Office Building, and Malone had come over to
watch the proceedings. Everything had been set up in what Malone
considered the most complicated fashion possible. A big room had been
turned into a projection chamber, and films were being run off over
and over. The films, taken by hidden cameras watching the
computer-secretaries, had caught two technicians red-handed punching
errors into the machines. Boyd had leaped on this evidence, and he and
his crew were showing the movies to the technicians and questioning
them under bright lights in an effort to break down their resistance.

But it didn't look as though they were going to have