"And while I'm doing all that," Boyd said, "what are you going to be doing?"
Malone looked at him and sighed. "I'll worry about that," he said.
"Just get started."
"Suppose Leibowitz can't find anything?" Boyd said.
"If Leibowitz can't find it, it's not there," Malone said. "He can find electronic devices anywhere in any car made, he says—even if they're printed circuits hidden under the paint job."
"Pretty good," Boyd said. "But suppose he doesn't?"
"Then they aren't there," Malone said, "and we'll have to think of something else." He considered that. It sounded fine. Only he wished he knew what else there was to think of.
Well, that was just pessimism. Leibowitz would find something, and the case would be over, and he could go back to Washington and rest. In August he was going to have his vacation anyway, and August wasn't very far away.
Malone put a smile carefully on his face and told Boyd, "Get going."
He slammed his hat on his head.
Wincing, he took it off and replaced it gently. The bottle of pills was still in his pocket, but he wasn't due for another one just yet.
He had time to go over to the precinct station in the West Eighties first. He headed outside to get another taxi.