"Who hired them?" Malone said.
Burris shrugged. "Somebody with money," he said. "Hell, men like that would kill their own grandmothers if the price were right—you know that. We can't trace them back any farther."
Malone nodded. That was, he had to admit, bad news. But then, when had he last had any good news?
"We're nowhere near our telepathic spy," Burris said. "We haven't come any closer than we were when we started. Have you got anything? Anything at all, no matter how small?"
"Not that I know of, sir," Malone said.
"What about the little old lady—what's her name? Thompson. Anything from her?"
Malone hesitated. "She has a close fix on the spy, sir," he said slowly, "but she doesn't seem able to identify him right away."
"What else does she want?" Burris said. "We've made her Queen and given her a full retinue in costume; we've let her play roulette and poker with Government money. Does she want to hold a mass execution? If she does, I can supply some Congressmen, Malone. I'm sure it could be arranged." He looked at the agent narrowly. "I might even be able to supply an FBI man or two," he added.
Malone swallowed hard. "I'm trying the best I can, sir," he said.
"What about the others?"
Burris looked even unhappier than usual. "Come along," he said. "I'll show you."