Malone shifted his feet. Maybe there was another explanation. But, he told himself, it would have to be a good one.
"Nobody expects a car to drive itself down a highway," Burris said.
"That's right," Malone said. "That's why it's all impossible."
"So," Burris said, "it would be a natural hallucination—or illusion, anyhow—for somebody to imagine he did see a driver, when there wasn't any."
"O.K.," Malone said. "There wasn't any driver. So the car couldn't have gone anywhere. So the New York police force is lying to us. It's a good explanation, but it—"
"They aren't lying," Burris said. "Why should they? I'm thinking of something else." He stopped, his eyes bright as he leaned across the desk toward Malone.
"Do I get three guesses?" Malone said.
Burris ignored him. "Frankly," he said, "I've got a hunch that the whole thing was done with remote control. Somewhere in that car was a very cleverly concealed device that was capable of running the Cadillac from a distance."
It did sound plausible, Malone thought. "Did the prowl car boys
find any traces of it when they examined the wreckage?" he said.