Brain Twister

by Randall Garrett

"This," he said, "is acourt order, instructing you to hand over to us the person of oneWilliam Logan, herein identified and described." He waved it at theDoctor.

  "That's your William Logan," he said, "only now he's ours."

  Dr. Dowson took the papers and put in some time frowning at them. Thenhe looked up again at Malone. "I assume that I have some discretion inthis matter," he said. "And I wonder if you realize just how ill Mr.Logan is? We have his case histories here, and we have worked with himfor some time."

  Barbara Wilson said: "But--"

  "I might say that we are beginning to understand his illness," Dr.Dowson said. "I honestly don't think it would be proper to transferthis work to another group of therapists. It might set his illnessback--cause, as it were, a relapse. All our work could easily benullified."

  "Please, Doctor," Barbara Wilson began.

  "I'm afraid the court order's got to stand," Malone said. Privately,he felt sorry for Dr. Dowson, who was, obviously enough, aconscientious man trying to do the best he could for his patient. But-

  "I'm sorry, Dr. Dowson," he said. "We'll expect that you send all ofyour data to the government psychiatrists--and, naturally, any concernfor the patient's welfare will be our concern also. The FBI isn'tanxious for its workers to get the reputation of careless men." Hepaused, wondering what other bone he could throw the man. "I have nodoubt that the St. Elizabeth's men will be happy to accept yourcooperation," he said at last. "But, I'm afraid that our duty isclear. William Logan goes with us."

  Dr. Dowson looked at them sourly. "Does he have to get dressed up likea masquerade, too?" Before Malone could answer, the psychiatristadded: "Anyhow, I don't even know you're FBI men. After all, whyshould I comply with orders from a group of men, dressed insanely,whom I don't even know?"

  Malone didn't say anything. He just got up and walked to a phone on asmall table, near the wall. Next to it was a door, and Malone wondereduncomfortably what was behind it. Maybe Dr. Dowson had a small arsenalthere, to protect his patients and prevent people from pirating them.

  He looked back at the set and dialed Burris' private number inWashington. When the Director's face appeared on the screen, Malonesaid: "Mr. Burris, will you please identify me to Dr. Dowson?" Helooked over at Dowson. "You recognize Mr. Andrew J. Burris, Isuppose?" he said.

  Dowson nodded. His grim face showed a faint shock. He walked to thephone, and Malone stepped back to let him talk with Burris.

  "My name is Dowson," he said. "I'm psychiatric director here at DesertEdge Sanatorium. And your men--"

  "My men have orders to take William Logan from your care," Burrissaid.

  "That's right," Dowson said. "But--"

  While they were talking, Queen Elizabeth I sidled quietly up to Maloneand tapped him on the shoulder.

  "Sir Kenneth," she whispered in the faintest of voices, "I know whereyour telepathic spy is. And I know _who_ he is."

  "Who?" Malone said. "What? Why? Where?" He blinked and whirled. Itcouldn't be true. They couldn't solve the case so easily.

  But the Queen's face was full of a majestic assurance. "He's rightthere," she said, and she pointed.

  Malone followed her finger.

  It was aimed directly at the glowing image of Andrew J. Burris,Director of the FBI.

  5

  Malone opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Not even air.

  He wasn't breathing.

  He stared at Burris for a long moment, then took a breath and lookedagain at Her Majesty. "The spy?" he whispered.

  "That's right," she said.

  "But that's--" He had to fight for control. "That's the head of theFBI," he managed to say. "Do you mean to say he's a spy?"

  Burris was saying: "... I'm afraid this is a matter of importance,Dr. Dowson. We cannot tolerate delay. You have the court order. Obeyit."

  "Very well, Mr. Burris," Dowson said with an obvious lack of grace."I'll release him to Mr. Malone immediately, since you insist."

  Malone stared, fascinated. Then he turned back to the little old lady."Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that Andrew J. Burris is atelepathic spy?"

  "Oh, dear me," Her Majesty said, obviously aghast. "My goodnessgracious. Is that Mr. Burris on the screen?"

  "It is," Malone assured her. A look out of the corner of his eye toldhim that neither Burris, in Washington, nor Dowson or any others inthe room, had heard any of the conversation. Malone lowered hiswhisper some more, just in case. "That's the head of the FBI," hesaid.

  "Well, then," Her Majesty said, "Mr. Burris couldn't possibly be aspy, then, could he? Not if he's the head of the FBI. Of course not.Mr. Burris simply isn't a spy. He isn't the type. Forget all about Mr.Burris."

  "I can't," Malone said at random. "I work for him." He closed hiseyes. The room, he had discovered, was spinning slightly. "Now," hesaid, "you're sure he's not a spy?"

  "Certainly I'm sure," she said, with her most regal tones. "Do youdoubt the word of your sovereign?"

  "Not exactly," Malone said. Truthfully, he wasn't at all sure. Not atall. But why tell that to the Queen?

  "Shame on you," she said. "You shouldn't even think such things. Afterall, I am the Queen, aren't I?" But there was a sweet, gentle smile onher face when she spoke; she didn't seem to be really irritated.

  "Sure you are," Malone said. "But--"

  "Malone!" It was Burris' voice, from the phone. Malone spun around."Take Mr. Logan," Burris said, "and get going. There's been enoughdelay as it is."

  "Yes, sir," Malone said. "Right away, sir. Anything else?"

  "That's all," Burris said. "Good night." The screen blanked.

  There was a little silence.

  "All right, Doctor," Boyd said. He looked every inch a king, andMalone knew exactly what king. "Bring him out."

  Dr. Dowson heaved a great sigh. "Very well," he said heavily. "But Iwant it known that I resent this highhanded treatment, and I shallwrite a letter complaining of it." He pressed a button on aninstrument panel in his desk. "Bring Mr. Logan in," he said.

  Malone wasn't in the least worried about the letter. Burris, he knew,would take care of anything like that. And, besides, he had otherthings to think about.

  The door to the next room had opened almost immediately, and twohusky, white-clad men were bringing in a strait-jacketed figure whosearms were wrapped against his chest, while the jacket's extra-longsleeves were tied behind his back. He walked where the attendants ledhim, but his eyes weren't looking at anything in the room. They staredat something far away and invisible, an impalpable shiftingnothingness somewhere in the infinite distances beyond the world.

  For the first time, Malone felt the chill of panic. Here, he thought,was insanity of a very real and frightening kind. Queen ElizabethThompson was one thing--and she was almost funny, and likeable, afterall. But William Logan was something else, and something that sent awave of cold shivering into the room.

  What made it worse was that Logan wasn't a man, but a boy, barelynineteen. Malone had known that, of course--but seeing it wassomething different. The lanky, awkward figure wrapped in a hospitalstrait-jacket was horrible, and the smooth, unconcerned face was,somehow, worse. There was no threat in that face, no terror or angeror fear. It was merely--a blank.

  It was not a human face. Its complete lack of emotion or expressioncould have belonged to a sleeping child of ten--or to a member of adifferent race. Malone looked at the boy, and looked away.

  Was it possible that Logan knew what he was thinking?

  _Answer me_, he thought, directly at the still boy.

  There was no reply, none at all. Malone forced himself to look away.But the air in the room seemed to have become much colder.

  The attendants stood on either side of him, waiting. For one longsecond no one moved, and then Dr. Dowson reached into his desk drawerand produced a sheaf of papers.

  "If you'll sign these for the government," he said, "you may have Mr.Logan. There seems little else that I can do, Mr. Malone--in spite ofmy e
arnest pleas--"

  "I'm sorry," Malone said. After all, he _needed_ Logan, didn't he?After a look at the boy, he wasn't sure any more--but the Queen hadsaid she wanted him, and the Queen's word was law. Or what passed forlaw, anyhow, at least for the moment.

  Malone took the papers and looked them over. There