"What do you mean?" Malone said.
"Well," Boyd said, "they might have known we were on to Brubitsch, Borbitsch and Garbitsch—" He stopped. "You know," he said, "every time I say that name I have to reassure myself that we're not all walking around in the world of Florenz Ziegfeld?"
"Likewise," Malone said. "But go on."
"Sure," Boyd said. "Anyhow, they might have set the three of them up as patsies—just in case we stumbled on to this mess. We can't overlook that possibility."
"Right," Malone said. "It's faint, but it is a possibility. In other words, the agency behind the flashes might be Russian, and it might not be Russian."
"That clears that up nicely," Boyd said. "Next question?"
"The next one," Malone said grimly, "is: what's behind the flashes? Some sort of psionic power is causing them—that much is obvious."
"I'll go along with that," Boyd said. "I have to go along with it. But don't think I like it."
"Nobody likes it," Malone said. "But let's go on. O'Connor isn't any help; he washes his hands of the whole business."