"I said one of the State Department translators was acting up," Burris said. "If you want details—"
"I don't think I can stand them," Malone said.
"Some of the Russian and Chinese releases have come through with the meaning slightly altered," Burris went on doggedly. "And I want you to check on it right away. I—"
"Thank God," Malone said.
Burris blinked. "What?"
"Never mind," Malone said. "Never mind. I'm glad you told me, Chief. I'll get to work on it right away, and—"
"You do that, Malone," Burris said. "And stop calling me Chief! Do I look like an Indian? Do I have feathers in my hair?"
"Anything," Malone said grandly, "is possible." He broke the connection in a hurry.
III
The summer sun beat down on the white city of Washington, D. C. as if it had mistaken its instructions slightly, and was convinced that the city had been put down somewhere in the Sahara. The sun seemed confused, Malone thought. If this were the Sahara, obviously there was no reason whatever for the Potomac to be running through it. The sun was doing its best to correct this small error, however, by exerting even more heat in a valiant attempt to dry up the river.