laugh any more. But have
we?"

"I don't know, sir."

"We haven't," Burris said with decision. "Can you read my mind?"

"No, sir," Malone said. "Can I read your mind?"

Malone hesitated. At last he said: "Not that I know of, sir."

"Well, I can't," Burris snapped. "And can any of us read each other's
mind?"

Malone shook his head. "No, sir," he said.

Burris nodded. "That's the problem," he said. "That's the case I'm
sending you out to crack."

This time, the silence was a long one.

At last, Malone said: "What problem, sir?"

"Mind reading," Burris said. "There's a spy at work in the Nevada
plant, Kenneth. And the spy is a telepath."

* * * * *

The video tapes were very clear and very complete. There were a great
many of them, and it was long after nine o'clock when Kenneth Malone
decided to take a break and get some fresh air. Washington was a good
city for walking, even at night, and Malone liked to walk. Sometimes
he pretended, even to himself, that he got his best ideas while
walking, but he knew perfectly well that wasn't true. His best ideas
just seemed to come to him, out of nowhere, precisely as the situation
demanded them.

He was just lucky, that was all. He had a talent for being lucky. But
nobody would ever believe that. A record like his was spectacular,
even in the annals of the FBI, and Burris himself believed that the
record showed some kind of superior ability.

Malone knew that wasn't true, but what could he do about it? After
all, he didn't want to resign, did he? It was kind of romantic and
exciting to be an FBI agent, even after three years. A man got a
chance to travel around a lot and see things, and it was interesting.
The pay was pretty good, too.

The only trouble was that, if he didn't quit, he was going to have to
find a telepath.

The notion of telepathic spies just didn't sound right to Malone. It
bothered him in a remote sort of way. Not that the idea of telepathy
itself was alien to him--after all, he was even more aware than the
average citizen that research had been going on in that field for
something over a quarter of a century, and that the research was even
speeding up.

But the cold fact that a telepathy-detecting device had been invented
somehow shocked his sense of propriety, and his notions of privacy. It
wasn't decent, that was all.

There ought to be something sacred, he told himself angrily.

He stopped walking and loo