He was no longer in his hotel room at the Statler-Hilton. He was standing in the middle of his office at FBI headquarters, Washington, D.C.
It had worked!
Malone walked over to the wall switch and turned on the lights in the darkened room. He looked around. He was definitely in his office.
He was a teleport.
He blinked and wondered briefly if he were dreaming. He pinched himself, said: "Ow," and decided that the pain offered no certain proof.
But he didn't feel like part of a dream.
He felt real. So did the office.
Just as he had promised Dorothea, he went to the phone and dialed the Statler-Hilton.
It took a minute for the long-distance circuits to connect him with Manhattan. Then the pretty operator at the hotel was smiling at him from the screen. "Statler-Hilton Hotel," she said. "May we help you?"
"Ring Room 814," Malone said. "I'm probably asleep in it."