have to. Youcan tell me, Mr. Kettleman."
"Oh," Kettleman said. "Well, the Spooks do have a sort of secretmeeting place, you know. And they meet there."
He stopped. Malone said, "Where is it?"
"Oh, it's a big empty warehouse," Kettleman said. "I really feelterrible about this. They're meeting there tonight sometime, or that'swhat the rumors say. I shouldn't be telling you--"
"Of course you should," Malone said, trying to sound reassuring."Don't worry about a thing, Mr. Kettleman. Tonight?"
"That's right," Kettleman said eagerly. He grinned, and then lookedmorosely down at his hands.
"Do you know where this warehouse is?" Malone said. "If any of theother little social groups use it--"
"Oh, no, they don't," Kettleman said. "That's what makes it so funny.You see, the warehouse is deserted, but it's kept in good repair;there are bars on the windows, and it's protected by all sorts ofalarm systems and things like that. So none of the others can use it.Only the Spooks. You can't get in without a key, not at all."
"But do the Spooks--" Malone began.
"Oh, no," Kettleman moaned. "They don't have a key. At least, that'swhat the other groups say. The Spooks just--just melt borough thewalls, or something like that."
"Mr. Kettleman," Malone said, "where is this warehouse?"
"I shouldn't be telling you this," Kettleman said.
Malone sighed. "Please, Mr. Kettleman. You know we're working for thegood of those boys, don't you?"
"Well, I--"
"Sure we are," Malone said. "So you can tell me."
Kettleman blinked behind his glasses, and moaned a little. Malonewaited with his hands tense in his lap. At last Kettleman said, "It'son West Street, near Chambers. That's downtown." He gave Malone anaddress. "That's where it is," he said. "But you won't do anything tothe boys, will you? They're basically good boys. No matter what. Andthey--"
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Kettleman," Malone said. "We'll take careof the Spooks."
"Oh," Kettleman said. "Yes. Sure."
He got up. Malone said, "There's just one more thing, Mr. Kettleman."
"Yes?" The big man's voice had reached the high, breathy pitch of afife.
"Do you have any idea what time the Spooks usually meet?"
"Well, now," Kettleman said, "I don't really know. You see, the reasonI wanted to tell you all this was because Lieutenant Lynch waschecking up on all those boys yesterday, and I thought..." He stoppedand cleared his throat, and when he began again his voice had droppedalmost to a whisper. "Well, Mr. Malone, I thought, after all, thatsince he was asking me questions--you know, questions about where theSpooks were, and all of that--since he was asking me questions..."
"Yes?" Malone said.
"I thought perhaps I ought to tell you about them," Kettleman said."Where they were, and all of that."
Malone stood up. "Mr. Kettleman," he said in his most official voice,"I want you to know that the FBI appreciates what you've done. Yourinformation will probably be very helpful to us, and the FBI certainlycommends you for being public-spirited enough to come to us and tellus what you know." He thought for a second, and then added, "In thename of the FBI, Mr. Kettleman--well done!"
Kettleman stared, smiled, and gulped. "My goodness," he said. "Well."He smiled again, a little more broadly. "One has one's duty, you know.My, yes. Duty." He nodded to Malone.
"Of course," Malone said, going to the door and opening it. "Thanksagain, Mr. Kettleman."
Kettleman saw the open door and headed for it blindly. As he left heflashed one last smile after Malone, who sighed, shut the door, andleaned against it for a second.
The things an FBI agent had to go through!
When he had recovered, he opened the door again and peered carefullydown the hallway to make sure Kettleman had gone. Then he left theinterrogation room and went down the hall, past the desk sergeant, andup the stairs to Lieutenant Lynch's office. He was still breathing alittle hard when he opened Lynch's door, and Lynch didn't seem to beexpecting him at all. He was very busy with a veritable snow flurry ofpapers, and he looked as if he had been involved with them steadilyever since he had left Malone and Kettleman alone downstairs.
"Well," Malone said. "Hello there, Lieutenant."
Lynch looked up, his face a mask of surprise. "Oh," he said. "It'syou. Through with Kettleman?"
"I'm through," Malone said. "As if you didn't know." He looked atLynch for a long minute, and then said, "Lieutenant..."
Lynch had gone right back to his papers. He looked up again with abland expression. "Yes?"
"Lieutenant, how reliable is Kettleman?" Malone said.
Lynch shrugged. "He's always been pretty good with the kids, if that'swhat you mean. You know these social workers--I've never got muchinformation out of him. He feels it's his duty to the kids--I don'tknow. Some such thing. Why do you ask?"
"Well," Malone said, "what he told me. Was he kidding me? Or does heknow what he's talking about? Was what he said reasonably accurate?"
"How would I know?" Lynch said. "After all, you were down there alone,weren't you? I was up here working. If you'll tell me what he said,maybe I'll be able to tell you whether or not I think he was kidding."
Malone placed both his palms on the lieutenant's desk, mashing acouple of piles of papers. He leaned forward slowly, his eyes onLynch's bland, innocent face. "Now look, Lynch," he said. "I like you.I really do. You're a good cop. You get things done."
"Well, thanks," Lynch said. "But I don't see what this has to dowith--"
"I just don't want you trying to kid your buddy-boy," Malone said.
"Kid you?" Lynch said. "I don't get it."
"Come on, now," Malone said. "I know that room was bugged, just aswell as you do. It was the sensible thing for you to pull, and youpulled it. You've got the whole thing recorded, haven't you?"
"Me?" Lynch said. "Why would I--"
"Oh, cut it out," Malone said impatiently. "Let's not play games,okay?"
There was a second of silence.
"All right," Lynch said. "So I recorded the conversation. Kill me.Crucify me. I'm stealing FBI secrets. I'm a spy secretly working for aforeign power. Take me out and electrocute me."
"I don't want to fight you," Malone said wearily. "So you've got thestuff recorded. That's your business."
"My business?"
"Sure," Malone said cheerfully. "As long as you don't try to use it."
"Now, Malone--" Lynch began.
"This is touchy stuff," Malone said. "We're going to have to take alot of care in handling it. And I don't want you throwing raids allover the place and mixing everything up."
"Malone, I--"
"Eventually," Malone said, "I'm going to need your help with thesekids. But for right now, I want to handle this my way, without anyinterference."
"I wouldn't think of--"
"You wanted information," Malone said. "Fine. That's all right withme. You got the information, and that's okay too. But if you try touse it before I say the word, I'll--I'll talk to good old Uncle JohnHenry Fernack. And he'll help me out; he'll give you a refreshercourse on How To Be A Beat Cop. In Kew Gardens. It's nice and lonelyout there now, Lynch, You'd love it."
"Malone," Lynch said tiredly.
"Don't give me any arguments," Malone said. "I don't want anyarguments."
"I won't argue with you, Malone," Lynch said. "I've been trying totell you something."
Malone stepped away from the desk. "All right," he said. "Go ahead."
Lynch took a deep breath. "Malone, I'm not trying to queer yourpitch," he said. "If I were going to pull a raid, here's what I'd haveto do: get my own cops together, then call the precinct that coversthat old warehouse. We don't cover the warehouse from here, Malone,and we'd need the responsible precinct's aid in anything we did downthere."
Malone said, "Well, all I--"
"Not only that," Lynch said. "I'd have to call Safe and Loft, and getthem in on it. A warehouse
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