Chapter 3-4
1002 Words
"The poor dear thinks she's going to get out of the hospital
now," Miss Wilson said. "For some reason, she's convinced that the
FBI is going to get her released, and—"
As she saw the expression on three faces, she stopped.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Miss Wilson," Malone said, "we—may I call you by your first
name?"
"Of course, Mr. Malone," she said. There was a little
silence.
"Miss Wilson," Malone said, "what is your first
name?"
She smiled now, very gently. Malone wanted to walk through
mountains, or climb fire. He felt confused, but wonderful.
"Barbara," she said.
"Lovely," he said. "Well, Barbara—and please call me Ken. It's
short for Kenneth."
The smile on her face broadened. "I thought it might be," she
said.
"Well," Malone said softly, "it is. Kenneth. That's my name. And
you're Barbara."
Boyd cleared his throat.
"Ah," Malone said. "Yes. Of course. Well, Barbara—well, that's
just what we intend to do. Take Miss Thompson away. We need
her—badly."
Dr. Harman had said nothing at all, and had barely moved. He was
staring at a point on his desk. "She couldn't possibly have heard
us," he muttered. "That's a soundproof door. She couldn't have
heard us."
"But you can't take Miss Thompson away," Miss Wilson said.
"We have to, Barbara," Malone said gently. "Try to understand.
It's for the national security."
"She heard us thinking," Dr. Harman muttered. "That's what; she
heard us thinking. Behind a soundproof door. She can see inside
their minds. She can even see inside my mind."
"She's a sick woman," Barbara said. "But you have to
understand—"
"Vital necessity," Boyd put in. "Absolutely vital."
"Nevertheless—" Barbara said. "She can read minds," Dr. Harman
whispered in an awed tone. "She knows. Everything. She
knows."
"It's out of the question," Barbara said. "Whether you like it
or not, Miss Thompson is not going to leave this hospital. Why,
what could she do outside these walls? She hasn't left in over
forty years! And furthermore, Mr. Malone—"
"Kenneth," Malone put in, as the door opened again. "I mean
Ken."
The little old lady put her haloed head into the room. "Now,
now, Barbara," she said. "Don't you go spoiling things. Just let
these nice men take me away and everything will be fine, believe
me. Besides, I've been outside more often then you imagine."
"Outside?" Barbara said.
"Of course," the little old lady said. "In other people's minds.
Even yours. I remember that nice young man—what was his name?—"
"Never mind his name," Barbara said, flushing furiously.
Malone felt instantly jealous of every nice young man he had
ever even heard of. He wasn't a nice young man; he was an
FBI agent, and he liked to get drunk and smoke cigars and carouse
with loose women. Anyway, reasonably loose women.
All nice young men, he decided, should be turned into ugly old
men as soon as possible. That'll fix them!
He noticed the little old lady smiling at him, and tried to
change his thoughts rapidly. But the little old lady said nothing
at all.
"At any rate," Barbara said, "I'm afraid that we just
can't—"
Dr. Harman cleared his throat imperiously. It was a most
impressive noise, and everyone turned to look at him. His face was
a little gray, but he looked, otherwise, like a rather pudgy,
blond, crew-cut Roman emperor.
"Just a moment," he said with dignity. "I think you're doing the
United States of America a grave injustice, Miss Wilson—and that
you're doing an injustice to Miss Thompson, too."
"What do you mean?" she said.
"I think it would be nice for her to get away from me—I mean
from here," the psychiatrist said. "Where did you say you were
taking her?" he asked Malone.
"Yucca Flats," Malone said.
"Ah." The news seemed to please the psychiatrist. "That's a long
distance from here, isn't it? It's quite a few hundred miles away.
Perhaps even a few thousand miles away. I feel sure that will be
the best thing for me—I mean, of course, for Miss Thompson. I shall
recommend that the court so order."
"Doctor—" But even Barbara saw, Malone could tell, that it was
no good arguing with Dr. Harman. She tried a last attack. "Doctor,
who's going to take care of her?"
A light the size and shape of North America burst in Malone's
mind. He almost chortled. But he managed to keep his voice under
control. "What she needs," he said, "is a trained psychiatric
nurse."
Barbara Wilson gave him a look that had carloads of U235 stacked
away in it, but Malone barely minded. She'd get over it, he told
himself.
"Now, wasn't that sweet of you to think of that," the little old
lady said. Malone looked at her and was rewarded with another wink.
Good God, he thought. She reads minds!
"I'm certainly glad you thought of Barbara," the little old lady
went on. "You will go with me, won't you, dear? I'll make you a
duchess. Wouldn't you like to be a duchess, dear?"
Barbara looked from Malone to the little old lady, and then she
looked at Dr. Harman. Apparently what she saw failed to make her
happy.
"We'll take good care of her, Barbara," Malone said.
She didn't even bother to give him an answer. After a second
Boyd said: "Well, I guess that settles it. If you'll let me use
your phone, Dr. Harman, I'll call Judge Dunning."
"Go right ahead," Dr. Harman said. "Go right ahead."
The little old lady smiled softly without looking at anybody at
all. "Won't it be wonderful," she whispered. "At last I've been
recognized. My country is about to pay me for my services. My loyal
subjects… ." She stopped and wiped what Malone thought was a tear
from one cornflower-blue eye.
"Now, now, Miss Thompson," Barbara said.
"I'm not sad," the little old lady said, smiling up at her. "I'm
just so very happy. I am about to get my reward, my well-deserved
reward at last, from all of my loyal subjects. You'll see." She
paused and Malone felt a faint stirring of stark, chill fear.
"Won't it be wonderful?" said the little old lady.
- Writer
