d for the switch. But Burris' voice
stopped him.

"Just one thing," he said.

"Yes, chief?" Malone said.

Burris frowned. "Don't spend any more for the clothes than you have to,"
he said.

Malone nodded, and cut off.

* * * * *

When the director's image had vanished, he got up and went to the window
of the hotel room. Outside, a huge sign told the world, and Malone, that
this was the Thunderbird-Hilton-Zeckendorf Hotel, but Malone ignored it.
He didn't need a sign; he knew where he was.

In hot water, he thought. _That's_ where he was.

Behind him, the door opened. Malone turned as Boyd came in.

"I found a costume shop, Ken," he said.

"Great," Malone said. "The chief authorized it."

"He did?" Boyd's round face fell at the news.

"He said to buy her whatever she wants. He says to treat her like a
queen."

"That," Boyd said, "we're doing now."

"I know it," Malone said. "I know it altogether too well."

"Anyhow," Boyd said, brightening, "the costume shop doesn't do us any
good. They've only got cowboy stuff and bullfighters' costumes and
Mexican stuff--you know, for their Helldorado Week here."

"You didn't give up, did you?" Malone said.

Boyd shook his head. "Of course not," he said. "Ken, this is on the
expense account, isn't it?"

"Expense account," Malone said. "Sure it is."

Boyd looked relieved. "Good," he said. "Because I had the proprietor
phone her size in, to New York."

"Better get two of 'em," Malone said. "The chief said anything she
wanted, she was supposed to have."

"I'll go back right away. I told him we wanted the stuff on the
afternoon plane, so--"

"And give him Bar ... Miss Wilson's size, and yours, and mine. Tell him
to dig up something appropriate."

"For us?" Boyd blanched visibly.

"For us," Malone said grimly.

Boyd set his jaw. "No," he said.

"Listen, Tom," Malone said, "I don't like this any better than you do.
But if I can't resign, you can't either. Costumes for everybody."

"But," Boyd said, and stopped. After a second he went on: "Malone ...
Ken ... FBI agents are supposed to be inconspicuous, aren't they?"

Malone nodded.

"Well, how inconspicuous are we going to be in this stuff?"

"It's an idea," Malone said. "But it isn't a very good one. Our first
job is to keep Miss Thompson happy. And that means costumes. And what's
more," Malone added, "from now on she's 'Your Majesty'. Got that?"

"Ken," Boyd said, "you'