“Oh, they had reasons, all right,” Burris said. “It took a little
coaxing, but I managed to pry some loose. You see, every one of them
found inefficiency in his own department. And every one knows that
other men are investigating inefficiency.”

“Oh,” Malone said.

“That’s right,” Burris said. “Every one of them came to me to get me
to prove that the goof-ups in his particular department weren’t his
fault. That covers them in case one of the others happens to light
into the department.”

“Well, it must be _somebody’s_ fault,” Malone said.

“It isn’t theirs,” Burris said wearily. “I ought to know. They told
me. At great length, Malone.”

Malone felt a stab of honest pity. “How many so far?” he said.

“Six,” Burris said. “Four representatives, and two senators.”

“Only two?” Malone said.

“Well,” Burris said, “the Senate is so much smaller. And, besides, we
may get more. As a matter of fact, Senator Lefferts is worth any six
representatives all by himself.”

“He is?” Malone said, puzzled. Senator Lefferts was not one of his
favorite people. Nor, as far as he knew, did the somewhat excitable
senator hold any place of honor in the heart of Andrew J. Burris.

“I mean his story,” Burris said. “I’ve never heard anything like
it–at least, not since the Bilbo days. And I’ve only heard about
those,” he added hurriedly.

“What story?” Malone said. “He talked about inefficiency–“

“Not exactly,” Burris said carefully. “He said that somebody was out
to get him–him, personally. He said somebody was trying to discredit
him by sabotaging all his legislative plans.”

“Well,” Malone said, feeling that some comment was called for, “three
cheers.”

“That isn’t the point,” Burris snapped. “No matter how we felt about
Senator Lefferts or his legislative plans, we’re sworn to protect him.
And he says ‘they’ are out to get him.”

“They?” Malone said.

“You know,” Burris said, shrugging. “The great ‘they.’ The invisible
enemies all around, working against him.”

“Oh,” Malone said. “Paranoid?” He had always thought Senator Lefferts
was slightly on the batty side, and the idea of real paranoia didn’t
come as too much of a surprise. After all, when a man was batty to
start out with … and he even _looked_ like a vampire, Malone thought
confusedly.

“As far as paranoia is concerned,” Burris said, “I checked with one of
our own psych men, and he’ll back it up. Lefferts has definite
paranoid tendencies, he says.”

Malone said, “That’s that.”

Burris shook his head. “It isn’t that simple,” he said. “You see,
Malone, there’s some evidence that somebody _is_ working against him.”

“The American public, with any luck at all,” Malone said.

“No,” Burris said. “An enemy. Somebody sabotaging his plans. Really.”

Malone shook his head. “You’re crazy,” he said.

Burris looked shocked. “Malone, I’m the Director of the FBI,” he said.
“And if you insist on being disrespectful–“

“Sorry,” Malone murmured. “But–“

“I am perfectly sane,” Burris said slowly. “It’s Senator Lefferts
who’s crazy. The only trouble is, he has evidence to show he’s not.”

Malone thought about odd cases, and suddenly wished he were somewhere
else. Anywhere else. This one showed sudden signs of developing into
something positively bizarre. “I see,” he said, wondering if he did.

“After all,” Burris said, in a voice that attempted to sound
reasonable, “a paranoid has just as much right to be persecuted as
anybody else, doesn’t he?”

“Sure,” Malone said. “Everybody has rights. But what do you want me to
do about that?”

“About their rights?” Burris said. “Nothing, Malone. Nothing.”

“I mean,” Malone said patiently, “about whatever it is that’s going
on.”

Burris took a deep breath. His hands clasped behind his head, and he
looked up at the ceiling. He seemed perfectly relaxed. That, Malone
knew, was a bad sign. It meant that there was a dirty job coming, a
job nobody wanted to do, and one Burris was determined to pass off on
him. He sighed and tried to feel resigned.

* * * * *

“Well,” the FBI Director said, “the only actual trouble we can
pinpoint is that there seem to be a great many errors occurring in the
paperwork–more than usual.”

“People get tired,” Malone said tentatively.

“But computer-secretary calculating machines don’t,” Burris said. “And
that’s where the errors are–in the computer-secretaries down in the
Senate Office Building. I think you’d better start out there.”

“Sure,” Malone said sadly.

“See if there’s any mechanical or electrical defect in any of those
computers,” Burris said. “Talk to the computer technicians. Find out
what’s causing all these errors.”

“Yes, sir,” Malone said. He was still trying to feel resigned, but he
wasn’t succeeding very well.

“And if you don’t find anything–” Burris began.

“I’ll come right back,” Malone said instantly.

“No,” Burris said. “You keep on looking.”

“I do?”

“You do,” Burris said. “After all, there has to be _something_ wrong.”

“Sure,” Malone said, “if you say so. But–“

“There are the interview tapes,” Burris said, “and the reports the
congressmen brought in. You can go through those.”

Malone sighed. “I guess so,” he said.

“And there must be thousands of other things to do,” Burris said.

“Well–” Malone began cautiously.

“You’ll be able to think of them,” Burris said heartily. “I know you
will. I have confidence in you, Malone. Confidence.”

“Thanks,” Malone said sadly.

“You just keep me posted from time to time on what you’re doing, and
what ideas you get,” Burris said. “I’m leaving the whole thing in your
hands, Malone, and I’m sure you won’t disappoint me.”

“I’ll try,” Malone said.

“I know you will,” Burris said warmly. “And no matter how long it
takes–I know you’ll succeed.”

“No matter how long it takes?” Malone said hesitantly.

“That’s right!” Burris said. “You can do it, Malone! You can do it.”

Malone nodded slowly. “I hope so,” he said. “Well, I … well, I’ll
start out right away, then.”