"Listen," Boyd said. "Did you call the office after you left this afternoon?"
"No," Malone admitted. "Why? What happened?"
"There was a call for you," Boyd said. "Long distance, just before I left at five. I came on back to the hotel and waited until I heard you come in. Thought you might want to know about it."
"I do, I guess," Malone said. "Who from?" Looking at Boyd, a modern-day Henry VIII, the association was too obvious to be missed. Malone thought of Good Queen Bess, and wondered why she was calling him again.
And—more surprising—why she'd called him at FBI headquarters, when she must have known that he wasn't there.
"Dr. O'Connor," Boyd said.
"Oh," Malone said, somewhat relieved. "At Yucca Flats."
Boyd nodded. "Right," he said.
"You're to call operator nine."
"Thanks." Malone went over to the phone, remembered his shoes and put them down carefully on the floor. "Anything else of importance?" he asked.