The Impossibles

by Randall Garrett

these kids."

  "The Government?"

  "It's nothing to worry about," Malone said. "Just go on home now, andI'll call you tomorrow. Late tonight, if I can. All right?"

  "No," Dorothea said. "It's not all right. Not at all."

  "But--"

  Boyd hissed, "Malone!"

  Malone ignored him. He had a bigger fight on his hands. "I'm not goinghome," Dorothea announced. "I'm going in there with you. After all,"she added, "I can talk more sense into Mike's head than you can."

  "Now look," Malone began.

  Dorothea grinned in the darkness. "If you don't take me along," shesaid quietly, "I'll scream and warn them."

  Malone surrendered at once. He had no doubt at all that Dorothea meantwhat she said. And, after all, the girl might really be some use tothem. And there probably wouldn't be much danger.

  Of course there wouldn't, he thought. He was going to see to that.

  "All right," he said. "Come along. Stick close to us, and don't worryabout the darkness. We can see, even if you can't, so let us guideyou. And for heaven's sake be quiet!"

  Boyd whispered, "Malone, what's going on?"

  "She's coming with us," Malone said, pointing to Dorothea.

  Boyd shrugged. "Malone," he said, "who do you think you are? The PiedPiper of Hamelin?"

  Malone wheeled and went ahead. Opening the door, he played his I-Rflashlight on the room inside and he, Boyd, and Dorothea trailed in,going through rooms piled with huge boxes. They went up an ironstairway to the second floor, and so on up to the roof.

  They moved quickly across the roof to the wall of the warehouse, whichwas two stories higher than the building they were on. Of course therewere no windows in the warehouse wall facing them, except on the topstory.

  But there was a single, heavy, fireproof emergency exit. It would havetaken power machinery or explosive to open that door from the outsidewithout a key, although from the inside it would open easily.Fortunately, Malone had a key.

  He took it out and stepped aside. "Give that lock the works," hewhispered to Boyd.

  Boyd took a lubricant gun from his pocket and fired three silent shotsof special oil into the lock. Then he shot the hinges, and the cracksaround the door.

  They waited for a minute or two while the oil, forced in underpressure, did its work. Then Malone fitted the key carefully into thelock and turned it, slowly and delicately.

  The door swung open in silence. Malone slipped inside, followed byBoyd and Dorothea Fueyo.

  Infrared equipment went on again, and the eerie illumination spreadover their surroundings. Malone tapped Boyd on the shoulder, andjerked his thumb toward the back stairs. This was plainly no time fortalk.

  From the floor above, they could hear the murmur of youthful voices.

  They started for the stairway. Fortunately, the building was of thesteel-and-concrete type; there were no wooden floors to creak andgroan beneath their feet.

  At the bottom of the stairs, they paused. Voices came down thestairwell clearly, even words being defined in the silence.

  "...and quit harping on whose fault it was." Malone recognized MikeFueyo's voice. "That FBI guy was onto us, and we had to pull out; youknow that. We always figured we'd have to pull out some day. So whynot now?"

  "Yeah," another voice said. "But you didn't have to go and vanishright under that Fed's nose. You been beating it into our heads not todo that sort of stuff ever since we first found out we could make thisvanishing bit. And then you go and do it in front of a Fed. Sure, yougot a big bang out of it, but is it smart? I ask you--"

  "Yeah?" Mike said. "Listen, Silvo, they never would've got onto us ifit hadn't been for your stupid tricks. Slugging a cop on the dome.Cracking up a car. You and your bug for speed!"

  Malone blinked. Then it hadn't been Miguel Fueyo who'd hit SergeantJukovsky, but Silvo. Malone tried to remember the list of SilentSpooks. Silvo Envoz--that was his name.

  "You slugged the FBI guy, Mike," Silvo said. "And now you got us allon the run. That's your fault, Mike. I want to see my old lady."

  "I had to slug him," Mike said. "Listen, all Ramon's stuff was in thatCadillac. What would've happened if he'd found all that stuff?"

  "So what happened anyway?" a third voice said (That was probablyRamon Otravez, Malone thought.) "He found your stupid notebook, didn'the? He went yelling to the cops, didn't he? We're running, ain't we?So what's the difference?"

  "Shut up!" Mike roared.

  "You ain't telling me to shut up!"

  "Me either," Silvo yelled. "You think you're a great big big-shot! Youthink you're king of the world!"

  "Who figured out the Vanish?" Mike screamed. "You'd all be a bunch ofbums if I hadn't showed you that! And you know it! You'd all--"

  "Don't give us that," Silvo said. "We'd have been able to do it, sameas you. Like you said, anybody who's got talent could do it. Therewere guys you tried to teach--"

  "Sure," said a fourth voice. "Listen, Fueyo, you're so bright--so whydon't you try teaching it to somebody who don't have the talent?"

  "Yeah," said voice number five. "You think you could teach that flashysister of yours the Vanish?"

  "You shut up about my sister, Phil!" Mike screamed.

  "So what's so great about her?"

  "She got that book back from the Fed," Mike said. "That's what. It'senough!"

  "Hell," a voice said, "any dame with a little--"

  "Shut your goddamn face before I shut it for you!"

  Malone couldn't tell who was yelling what at who after a minute. Theyall seemed unhappy about being on the run from the police, and theywere all tired of being cooped up in a warehouse under Mike's orders.Mike was the only person they could take it out on--and Mike was underheavy attack.

  Two of the boys, surprisingly, seemed to side with him. The other fivewere trying to outshout them. Malone wondered if it would become afight, and then realized that these kids could hardly fight each otherwhen the one who was losing could always fade out.

  He leaned over and whispered to Dorothea and Boyd, "Let's sneak upthere while the argument's going on."

  "But--" Boyd began.

  "Less chance of their noticing us," Malone explained, and Startedforward.

  They tiptoed up the stairs and got behind a pile of crates in theshadows, while invective roared around them. This floor was lit by asingle small bulb hanging from a socket in the ceiling. The windowswere hung with heavy blankets to keep the light from shining out.

  The kids didn't notice anything except each other. Malone took acouple of deep breaths and began to look around.

  All things considered, he thought, the kids had fixed the place uppretty nicely. The unused warehouse had practically been made overinto an apartment. There were chairs, beds, tables, and everythingelse in the line of furnishings for which the kids could conceivablyhave any use. There were even some floor lamps scattered around, butthey weren't plugged in. Malone guessed that a job would have to bedone on the warehouse wiring to get the floor lamps in operation, andthe kids just hadn't got around to it yet.

  By now the boys were practically standing toe-to-toe, rippingair-blueing epithets at each other. Not a single hand was lifted.

  Malone stared at them for a second, then turned to Dorothea. "We'llwait till they calm down a little," he whispered. "Then you go out andtalk to them. Tell them we won't hurt them or lock them up oranything. All we want to do is talk to them for awhile."

  "All right," she whispered back.

  "They can vanish any time they want to," Malone said, "so there's noreason for them not to listen to--"

  He stopped suddenly, listening. Over the shouting, screaming, andcursing of the kids, he heard motion on the floor below.

  Cops?

  It couldn't be, he told himself. But when he took out his radiophone,his hands were shaking a little.

  Lynch's voice was already coming over it when Malone thumbed it on.

  "...so hang on, Malone! I repeat: We heard the ruckus, and we'recoming in! We
're on our way! Hang on, Malone!"

  The voice stopped. There was a click.

  Malone stared at the handset, fascinated and horrified. He swallowed."No, Lynch!" he whispered, afraid to talk any louder for fear the kidswould hear him. "No! Don't come up. Go away. Repeat: Go away! Stayaway, Lynch!"

  It was no use. The radiophone was dead.

  Lynch, apparently thinking Malone's set had