A Spaceship Named: 45 Sci-Fi Novels & Stories in One Volume. Randall Garrett

isn't?" Malone said, trying to sound interested.

      "Not at all," Boyd said. "It goes a lot deeper than it looks on the surface. In the past year, Ken, five senators have announced their resignations from the Senate of the United States. It isn't exactly a record--"

      "It sounds like a record," Malone said.

      "Well," Boyd said, "there was 1860 and the Civil War, when a whole lot of senators and representatives resigned all at once."

      "Oh," Malone said. "But there isn't any Civil War going on now. At least," he added, "I haven't heard of any."

      "That's what makes it so funny," Boyd said. "Of course, Senator Burley said it was ill health, and so did two others, while Senator Davidson said it was old age."

      "Well," Malone said, "people do get old. And sick."

      "Sure," Boyd said. "The only trouble is--" He paused. "Ken," he said, "do you mind if I smoke? I mean, do you mind the smell of cigars?"

      "Mind?" Malone said. "Not at all." He blinked. "Besides," he added, "maybe this one won't smell like a cigar."

      "Well, the last one did," Boyd said. He took a cigarette out of a pack in his pocket, and lit it. He sniffed. "You know," he said, "you're right. This one doesn't."

      "I told you," Malone said. "Must have been a bad cigarette. Spoiled or something."

      "I guess so," Boyd said vaguely. "But about these retirements--the FBI wanted me to look into it because of Burley's being mixed up with the space program scandal last year. Remember?"

      "Vaguely," Malone said. "I was busy last year."

      "Sure you were," Boyd said. "We were both busy getting famous and well known."

      Malone grinned. "Go on with the story," he said.

      Boyd puffed at his cigarette. "Anyhow, we couldn't find anything really wrong," he said. "Three senators retiring because of ill health, one because of old age. And Farnsworth, the youngest, had a nervous breakdown."

      "I didn't hear about it," Malone said.

      Boyd shrugged "We hushed it up," he said. "But Farnsworth's got delusions of persecution. He apparently thinks somebody's out to get him. As a matter of fact, he thinks everybody's out to get him."

      "Now that," Malone said, "sounds familiar."

      Boyd leaned back a little more in his chair. "Here's the funny thing, though," he said. "The others all act as if they're suspicious of everybody who talks to them. Not anything obvious, you understand. Just worried, apprehensive. Always looking at you out of the corners of their eyes. That kind of thing."

      Malone thought of Senator Lefferts, who was also suffering from delusions of persecution, delusions that had real evidence to back them up. "It does sound funny," he said cautiously.

      "Well, I reported everything to Burris," Boyd went on. "And he said you were working on something similar, and we might as well pool our resources."

      "Here we go again," Malone said. He took a deep breath, filling his nostrils with what remained of the cigar odor in the room, and felt more peaceful. Quickly, he told Boyd about what had been happening in Congress. "It seems pretty obvious," he finished, "that there is some kind of a tie-up between the two cases."

      "Maybe it's obvious," Boyd said, "but it is just a little bit odd. Fun and games. You know, Ken, Burris was right."

      "How?" Malone said.

      "He said everything was all mixed up," Boyd went on. "He told me the country was going to Rome in a handbasket, or something like that."

      Wondering vaguely if Burris had really been predicting mass religious conversions, Malone nodded silently.

      "And he's right," Boyd said. "Look at the newspapers. Everything's screwy lately."

      "Everything always is screwy," Malone said.

      "Not like now," Boyd said. "So many big-shot gangsters have been killed lately we might as well bring back Prohibition. And the labor unions are so busy with internal battles that they haven't had time to go on strike for over a year."

      "Is that bad?" Malone said.

      Boyd shrugged. "God knows," he said. "But it's sure confusing as all hell."

      "And now," Malone said, "with all that going on--"

      "The Congress of the United States decides to go off its collective rocker," Boyd finished. "Exactly." He stared down at his cigarette for a minute with a morose and pensive expression on his face. He looked, Malone thought, like Henry VIII trying to decide what to do about all these here wives.

      Then he looked up at Malone. "Ken," he said in a strained voice, "there seem to be a lot of nutty cases lately."

      Malone considered. "No," he said at last. "It's just that when a nutty one comes along, we get it."

      "That's what I mean," Boyd said. "I wonder why that is."

      Malone shrugged. "It takes a thief to catch a thief," he said.

      "But these aren't thieves," Boyd said. "I mean, they're just nutty." He paused. "Oh," he said.

      "And two thieves are better than one," Malone said.

      "Anyhow," Boyd said with a small, gusty sigh, "it's company."

      "Sure," Malone said.

      Boyd looked for an ashtray, failed again to find one, and walked over to flip a second cigarette out onto Washington. He came back to his chair, sat down, and said, "What's our next step, Ken?"

      Malone considered carefully. "First," he said finally, "we'll start assuming something. We'll start assuming that there is some kind of organization behind all this, behind all the senators' resignations and everything like that."

      "It sounds like a big assumption," Boyd said.

      Malone shook his head. "It isn't really," he said. "After all, we can't figure it's the work of one person: it's too widespread for that. And it's silly to assume that everything's accidental."

      "All right," Boyd said equably. "It's an organization."

      "Trying to subvert the United States," Malone went on. "Reducing everything to chaos. And that brings in everything else, Tom. That brings in the unions and the gang wars and everything."

      Boyd blinked. "How?" he said.

      "Obvious," Malone said. "Strife brought on by internal confusion, that's what's going on all over. It's the same pattern. And if we assume an organization trying to jam up the United States, it even makes sense." He leaned back and beamed.

      "Sure it makes sense," Boyd said. "But who's the organization?"

      Malone shrugged.

      "If I were doing the picking," Boyd said, "I'd pick the Russians. Or the Chinese. Or both. Probably both."

      "It's a possibility," Malone said. "Anyhow, if it's sabotage, who else would be interested in sabotaging the United States? There's some Russian or Chinese organization fouling up Congress, and the unions, and the gangs. Come to think of it, why the gangs? It seems to me that if you left the professional gangsters strong, it would do even more to foul things up."

      "Who knows?" Boyd said. "Maybe they're trying to get rid of American gangsters so they can import some of their own."

      "That doesn't make any sense," Malone said, "but I'll think about it. In the meantime, we have one more interesting question."

      "We do?" Boyd said.

      "Sure we do," Malone said. "The question is: how?"

      Boyd said: "Mmm." Then there was silence for a little while.

      "How are the saboteurs doing all this?" Malone said. "It just doesn't seem very probable that all the technicians in the Senate Office Building, for instance, are spies. It makes even less sense that the labor unions are composed mostly of spies. Or,