Malone said. "Get on up here. I'll talk to you later."

He cut off in a hurry, leaned back in his chair and started to think.
At first, he thought of a cigar. Boyd, he figured, couldn't be back in
the office for some time, and nobody else would come in. He locked the
door, drew out the cigar-laden box he kept in his desk in New York,
and lit up with great satisfaction.

When the cloud of smoke around his head was dense enough to cut with a
knife, he went back to more serious subjects. He didn't have to worry
too much about his mind being spied on; if Her Majesty couldn't read
his deepest thoughts, and the mind-changers weren't throwing any bolts
of static in his direction, he was safe.

Now, then, he told himself--and sneezed.

He shook his head, cursed slightly, and went on.

Now, then...

There was an organization, spread all over the Western world, and with
secret branches, evidently, in the Soviet Union. The organization had
to be an old one, because it had to have trained telepaths of such a
high degree of efficiency that they could evade Her Majesty's probing
without her even being aware of the evasion. And training took time.

There was something else to consider, too. In order to organize to
such a degree that they could wreak the efficient, complete havoc they
were wreaking, the organization couldn't be completely secret; there
are always leaks, always suspicious events, and a secret society that
covered all of those up would have no time for anything else.

So the organization had to be a known one, a known group, masquerading
as something else.

So far, everything made sense. Malone took another deep, grateful puff
on the cigar, and frowned. Where, he wondered, did he go from here?

He reached for a pencil and a piece of paper. He headed the paper:
_Organization._ Then he started putting down what he knew about it,
and what he'd figured out.

1. Large
2. Old
3. Disguised

It sounded just a little like Frankenstein's Monster, so far. But what
else did he know about it?

After a second's thought, he murmured: "Nothing," and took another
puff.

But that wasn't quite true.

He knew one more thing about the organization. He knew they'd probably
be immune to the confusion everybody else was suffering from. The
organization would be--had to be--efficient. It would be composed of
intelligent, superbly cooperative people, who could work together as a
unit without in the least impai