mething out of the ordinary."

"Of course, Mr. Malone," Leibowitz said. "I wouldn't have bothered you
except for the production speed-up here."

"I understand," Malone said. "It's perfectly all right. I'll be
hearing from you, then?"

"Certainly, Mr. Malone," Leibowitz said.

Malone cut the circuit at once and started to turn away, but he never
got the chance. It started to chime again at once.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation," Malone said as he flipped up the
receiver. He wanted badly to copy Boyd's salutation, but he found that
he just didn't have the gall to do it, and said sadly instead, "Malone
speaking."

There was no immediate answer from the other party. Instead, the
screen slowly cleared, showing Malone the picture of a woman he
recognized instantly.

It was Juanita Fueyo, Mike's mother.

Malone stared at her. It seemed to him as if a couple of hours passed
while he tried to find his voice. Of course, she'd looked up the FBI
number in the phone book, and found him that way. But she was about
the last person on earth from whom he'd expected a call.

"Oh, Mr. Malone," she said, "thank you so much. You got my Mike back
from the police."

Malone gulped. "I did?" he said. "Well, I--"

"But, Mr. Malone, you must help me again. Because now my Mike says he
must not stay at home! He is leaving, he is leaving right away!"

"Leaving?" Malone said.

He thought of a thousand things to do. He could send a squad of men to
arrest Mike. And Mike could disappear while they were trying to get
hold of him. He could go down himself--and be greeted, if he knew Mike
Fueyo, with another giant economy-size raspberry. He could try to
plead with Mike on the phone.

And what good would that do?

So, instead, he just sat and stared while Mrs. Fueyo went right on.

"He says he will send me money, but money is nothing compared to my
own boy, my own Mike. He says he must go away, Mr. Malone, but I know
you can stop him. I know it!"

"Sure," Malone said. "But I--"

"Oh, I knew that you would," Mrs. Fueyo shrieked. She almost came
through the screen at him. "You are a great man, Mr. Malone. I will
say many prayers for you. Every day I will pray for you in all your
work. I will never stop praying for you because you help me." Her
voice and face changed abruptly. "Excuse me now," she said. "I must go
back to work."

"Well," Malone said, "if I--"

Then she turned back and beamed at him again. "Oh, thank you, Mr.
Malon