nto the screen at Malone.
"How did you know all this stuff?" he said.

Malone waited one full second, while Fernack got darker and darker on
the screen. When he judged that the color was right, he said quietly:
"I'm prescient. And thanks a lot, John Henry; just send the reports to
me personally, at Sixty-ninth Street. By messenger. So long."

He cut the circuit just as Fernack started: "Now, Malone--"

* * * * *

With a satisfied, somewhat sheepish smile, Malone dialed another number.
This time a desk sergeant told him politely that Lynch wasn't at the
precinct, and wouldn't arrive until noon.

Malone had Lynch's home number. He dialed it.

It was a long wait before the lieutenant answered, and he didn't look
much like a police officer when his face finally showed up on the
screen. His hair was uncombed and he was unshaven. His eyes were
slightly bleary, but he was definitely awake.

"Oh," Malone said. "Hello."

"Hi, there," Lynch said with enormous cheerfulness. "Old buddy-boy. Old
pal. Old friend."

"What's wrong?" Malone said.

"Wrong?" Lynch said. "Nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. I just wanted to
thank you for not waking me up last night. I only waited for your call
until midnight. Then I decided I just wasn't very important to you. You
obviously had much bigger things on your mind."

"As a matter of fact," Malone said, eying Lynch's figure, dressed in a
pair of trousers and a T-shirt, speculatively, "you're right."

"That's what I thought," Lynch said. "And I decided that, since you were
so terribly busy, it could wait until I woke up. Or even until I got
down to the station. How about it--buddy-boy?"

"Listen, Lynch," Malone said, "we made a bet. Ten to one. I just want to
know if I can come down to collect or not."

There was a second of silence.

"All right," Lynch said at last, looking crestfallen. "I owe you a buck.
Every last one of those kids has skipped out on us."

"Good," Malone said. He wondered briefly just what was good about it,
and decided he'd rather have lost the money to Lynch. But facts, he
reflected, were facts. Thoroughly nasty facts.

"I spent all night tracing them," Lynch said. "Got nowhere. Nowhere at
all. Tell me, Malone, how did you know--"

"Classified," Malone said. "Very classified. But you're sure they're all
gone? Vanished?"

Lynch's face reddened. "Sure I'm sure," he said. "Every last one of them
is gone. And what more do you