“Real spies,” Lou said. “Bad ones, but real. Any more questions?”
“Some,” Malone said. “Were you kidding about that drink in Moscow?”
She shook her head. “I wish I had been,” she said. “But I was concentrating on Petkoff, who didn’t know a thing about the drugged drink. I didn’t catch anything else until after I’d swallowed it. And then it was too late.”
“Good old Petkoff,” Malone said. “Always helpful. But he was right about one thing, anyway.”
“What?” Lou said.
“The FBI,” Malone said. “He told us it was a secret police organization. And, by God, in a way it is!”
Lou grinned. Malone started to laugh outright. They found themselves very close and the laughter stopped, and there was some more time without words. When Malone broke free, he had a suddenly sobered expression on his face.
“Hey,” he said. “What about Tom Boyd? He knows a lot but he hasn’t got any talents, as far as I know, and—”
“He’ll be all right,” Lou said. “Andrew and the others have thought of that.”
“But he knows an awful lot about the evidence I dug up.”