known," Boyd said. "I might have known."

"Tom," Malone said. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Boyd said. "Nothing at all. Everything's fine and dandy.
I think I'm going to commit suicide, but don't let that bother you."

"What happened?" Malone said.

Boyd stared at him. "You happened," he said. "You and the teen-agers and
the warehouse happened. Three days' work--ruined."

Malone scratched his head, found out that his head still hurt and put
his hand down again. "What work?" he said.

"For three days," Boyd said, "I've been taking this blond chick all over
New York. Wining her. Dining her. Spending money as if I were Burris
himself, instead of the common or garden variety of FBI agent. Night
clubs. Theaters. Bars. The works. Malone, we were getting along
famously. It was wonderful."

"And tonight--" Malone said.

"Tonight," Boyd said, "was supposed to be the night. The big night. The
payoff. We've got a date for dinner--T-bone steak, two inches thick,
with mushrooms. At her apartment, Malone."

"You'll have to break it," Malone said sympathetically. "Too bad, but it
can't be helped now. You can pick up a sandwich before you go."

"A sandwich," Boyd said with great dignity, "is not my idea of something
to eat."

"Look, Tom--" Malone began.

"All right, all right," Boyd said tiredly. "Duty is duty. I'll go call
her."

"Fine," Malone said. "And meanwhile, I'll get us a little insurance."

"Insurance?"

"John Henry Fernack," Malone Malone said, "and his Safe and Loft Squad."

XIV.

The warehouse was locked up tight, all right, Malone thought. In the dim
light that surrounded the neighborhood, it stood like a single stone
block, alone near the waterfront. There were other buildings nearby, but
they seemed smaller; the warehouse loomed over Malone and Boyd
threateningly. They stood in a shadow-blacked alley just across the
street, watching the big building nervously, studying it for weak points
and escape areas.

[Illustration]

Boyd whispered softly: "Do you think they have a lookout?"

Malone's voice was equally low. "We'll have to assume they've got at
least one kid posted," he said. "But they can't be watching all the
time. Remember, they can't do everything."

"They don't have to," Boyd said. "They do quite enough for me. Do you
realize that, right now, I could be--"

"Break it up," Malone said. He took a small handset from his pocket and
pressed the stud. "Lynch?" he whispered.