“These three spies, anyhow,” Malone said.
“If spies is the right word,” Boyd said.
“Okay,” Malone said. “And now we’ve got another obvious question.”
“It seems to me we’ve got about twelve,” Boyd said.
“I mean, who’s doing it?” Malone said. “Who is causing these telepathic flashes?”
“Maybe it’s just happening,” Boyd said. “Out of thin air.”
“Maybe,” Malone said. “But let’s go on the assumption that there’s a human cause. The other way, we can’t do a thing except sit back and watch the world go to hell.”
Boyd nodded. “It doesn’t seem to be the Russians,” he said. “Although, of course, it might be a Red herring.”
“What do you mean?” Malone said.
“Well,” Boyd said, “they might have known we were on to Brubitsch, Borbitsch and Garbitsch—” He stopped. “You know,” he said, “every time I say that name I have to reassure myself that we’re not all walking around in the world of Florenz Ziegfeld.”