rated horror. "They could be all around us. Heaven
only knows."

He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up, a chunky little
man with bright blue eyes and large hands. He paced to the window and
looked out at Washington, and then he came back to the desk. A
persistent office rumor held that he had become head of the FBI purely
because he happened to have an initial _J_ in his name, but in his
case the J stood for Jeremiah. And, at the moment, his tone expressed
all the hopelessness of that Old Testament prophet's lamentations.

"We're helpless," he said, looking at the young man with the crisp
brown hair who was sitting across the desk. "That's what it is, we're
helpless."

Kenneth Malone tried to look dependable. "Just tell me what to do," he
said.

"You're a good agent, Kenneth," Burris said. "You're one of the best.
That's why you've been picked for this job. And I want to say that I
picked you personally. Believe me, there's never been anything like it
before."

"I'll do my best," Malone said at random. He was twenty-six, and he
had been an FBI agent for three years. In that time, he had, among
other things, managed to break up a gang of smugglers, track down a
counterfeiting ring, and capture three kidnappers. For reasons which
he could neither understand nor explain, no one seemed willing to
attribute his record to luck.

"I know you will," Burris said. "And if anybody can crack this case,
Malone, you're the man. It's just that--everything sounds so
_impossible_. Even after all the conferences we've had."

"Conferences?" Malone said vaguely. He wished the Chief would get to
the point. Any point. He smiled gently across the desk and tried to
look competent and dependable and reassuring. Burris' expression
didn't change.

"You'll get the conference tapes later," Burris said. "You can study
them before you leave. I suggest you study them very carefully,
Malone. Don't be like me. Don't get confused." He buried his face in
his hands. Malone waited patiently. After a few seconds, Burris looked
up. "Did you read books when you were a child?" he asked.

Malone said: "What?"

"Books," Burris said. "When you were a child. Read them."

"Sure I did," Malone said. _"Bomba the Jungle Boy_, and _Doctor
Doolittle_, and _Lucky Starr_, and _Little Women_--"

_"Little Women?"_

"When Beth died," Malone said, "I wanted to cry. But I didn't. My
father said big boys don't cry."

"And your father was right,"