“That’s our job,” Burris said, looking grim.
Malone blinked. “What is?” he said.
“Having trouble,” Burris said.
There was a short silence. Malone broke it. “Anyhow,” he said, “you feel we have enough trouble, so we’re trying to make things easy for everybody.”
Burris nodded. “I’ve talked with the president,” he said, “and he feels this is the best way to handle matters.”
Malone tried to imagine Burris explaining the incredible complexities of the situation to the president, and was torn between relief that he hadn’t been there and a curious wish to have heard the scrambled conversation that must have taken place. “The way it seems to me,” he said cautiously, “shipping those spies back to Russia is a worse punishment than sending them to the federal pen.”
“Maybe it is,” Burris said. “Maybe it is. How would you feel if you were being sent to jail?”
“Innocent,” Malone said instantly.
“But that isn’t the point,” Burris went on. “You see, Malone, we don’t really have much damaging evidence against those spies, except for their confessions. During all the time we were watching them, we took care that they never did come up with anything dangerous; we weren’t fishing for them but for their superiors, for the rest of the network.”
“There doesn’t seem to be any more network,” Malone said. “Not in this country, anyhow.”