And you came and got me, and took
me to the plane and all. And I--" She hesitated, and for a second she
looked very small and wistful. "Do you--do you think they'll do
anything to Dad?" she said.

"I don't see why," Malone said confidently. "After all, the only thing
he did wrong was to get caught, and that's an occupational risk if
you're in the spy business. Lots of people get caught. Happens all the
time. Don't worry about it."

"I--all right," she said. "I won't, then."

"Good," Malone said. He fished in his pocket. "I've got some pills
here," he said, "in case you have a headache. The doctor said I could
give them to you if you had a headache, but otherwise I should just
forget about them."

Lou smiled. "I think you'd better just forget about them," she said.

Malone's hand came out of his pocket empty. "I just want to make sure
you're okay," he said. "Probably very silly. Of course you're okay."

"Of course I am," she said. "But I don't think you're silly." She
smiled again, a very warm smile. Malone took a deep breath and
discovered that he hadn't been breathing at all regularly for several
minutes. Lou's smile increased a trifle in intensity and he stopped
breathing all over again. "All things considered," she said, "I think
you're pretty wonderful, Ken."

Malone's voice sounded to him as if it were coming from a great
distance. He wondered if the strange feeling in his stomach were the
pangs of love, or the descent of the plane. Then he realized that he
didn't care. "Well, well," he said airily. "Well, well, well. Frankly,
Lou, I'm inclined to agree with you. Though I'm not sure about the
qualification."

"Fine thing," she said. "Tell a man he's wonderful and he just nods
his head as if he knew it all along."

Malone swallowed hard. "Maybe I did," he said. "And how did you come
to this startling conclusion?"

It was Lou who broke the light mood of their speech first. "Look,
Ken," she said seriously, "I'm the daughter of an enemy spy. You know
that. You're an FBI agent."

"So what?" he said.

"So," she said, "you don't treat me like the daughter of a spy. You
treat me just like anybody else."

"I do not," Malone said instantly.

"All right," she said, and shrugged. "But I'm sure none of this is in
the FBI manual for daughters of convicted spies."

"Now, you look," Malone said. "Just what do you think this is? The
McCarthy era? Any way I treat you, it has nothing to do with your
father. He's