“Spirit control?” Malone blinked.
“Demoniac intervention,” Sir Lewis said. “‘My name is Legion,’ you know.”
Sir Lewis Legion, Malone thought confusedly, was a rather unusual name. He took a breath and caught hold of his revolving mind. “How would you go about that?” he said, a little hopelessly.
“I haven’t the foggiest,” Sir Lewis admitted cheerfully. “But I will have it looked up for you.” He made a note. “Anything else?”
Malone tried to think. “Yes,” he said at last. “Can you give me a condensed report on what is known—and I mean known—on telepathy and teleportation?”
“What you want,” Sir Lewis said, “are those cases proven genuine, not the ones in which we have established fraud, or those still in doubt.”
“Exactly,” Malone said. If he got no other use out of the data, it would provide a measuring-stick for the Society. The general public didn’t know that the Government was actually using psionic powers, and the Society’s theories, checked against actual fact, would provide a rough index of reliability to use on the Society’s other data.
But spirits, somehow, didn’t seem very likely. Malone sighed and stood up.
“I’ll have copies made of all the relevant material,” Sir Lewis said, “from our library and research files. Where do you want the material sent? I do want to warn you of its bulk; there may be quite a lot of it.”
“FBI Headquarters, on 69th Street,” Malone said. “And send a statement of expenses along with it. As long as the bill’s within reason, don’t worry about itemizing; I’ll see that it goes through Accounting myself.”