Malone tried valiantly to resist temptation, but he was not at his best, and he lost. "All right," he said. "I will name it. Here's a list of places that haven't even been touched by the rising crime wave: Banks, for one."
"Malone!"
"Safes that have been locked, for another," Malone went on. "Homes with wall safes—though that's not quite accurate. The homes may have been robbed, but the safes won't have been touched."
"Malone, how much do you know?" Fernack said.
"I'll make a general rule for you," Malone said. "Any place that fits the
following description is safe: It's got a secure lock on it, and it's too small for a human being to get into."
Fernack opened his mouth, shut it and stared downward, obviously scanning some papers lying on the desk in front of him. Malone waited patiently for the explosion—but it never came.
Instead, Fernack said: "You know, Malone, you remind me of an old friend of mine."
"Really?" Malone said pleasantly.
"You certainly do," Fernack said. "There's just one small difference. You're an FBI man, and he's a crook. If that's a difference."