Chapter 5-2
2058 Words
"Lady Barbara was confused by the excitement," the Queen said
calmly.
"It's all right now, dear."
Lady Barbara blinked across the seat. "I was—afraid," she
said.
"It's all right," the Queen said. "I'll take care of you."
"This," Malone announced to no one in particular, "is
ridiculous."
Boyd swept the car around a curve and concentrated grimly on the
road. After a second the Queen said: "Since you're still thinking
about the question, I'll answer you."
"What question?" Malone said, thoroughly baffled.
"Sir Thomas asked me if I could foretell the future," the Queen
said equably. "Of course I can't. That's silly. Just because I'm
immortal and I'm a telepath, don't go hog-wild."
"Then how did you know the FBI agents were going to find the
girl in Honolulu tomorrow?" Boyd said.
"Because," the Queen said, "they're thinking about looking in
the hospital tomorrow, and when they look they'll certainly find
her."
Boyd said: "Oh," and was silent.
But Malone had a grim question. "Why didn't you tell me about
these other telepaths before?" he said. "You could have saved us a
lot of work."
"Oh, heavens to Betsy, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty exclaimed. "How
could I? After all, the proper precautions had to be taken first,
didn't they? I told you all the others were crazy—really
crazy, I mean. And they just wouldn't be safe without the proper
precautions."
"Perhaps you ought to go back to the hospital, too," Barbara
said, and added: "Your Majesty," just in time.
"But if I did, dear," Her Majesty said, "you'd lose your chance
to become a Duchess, and that wouldn't be at all nice. Besides, I'm
having so much fun!" She trilled a laugh again. "Riding
around like this is just wonderful!" she said.
And you're important for national security, Malone said
to himself.
"That's right, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said. "The country needs
me, and I'm happy to serve. That is the job of a sovereign."
"Fine," Malone said, hoping it was.
"Well, then," said Her Majesty, "that settles that. We have a
whole night ahead of us, Sir Kenneth. What do you say we make a
night of it?"
"Knight who?" Malone said. He felt confused again. It seemed as
if he was always feeling confused lately.
"Don't be silly, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "There are
times and times."
"Sure," Malone said at random. And time and a half, he
thought. Possibly for overtime. "What is Your Majesty
thinking of?" he asked with trepidation.
"I want to take a tour of Las Vegas," Her Majesty said
primly.
Lady Barbara shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not possible,
Your Majesty," she said.
"And why not, pray?" Her Majesty said. "No. I can see what
you're thinking. It's not safe to let me go wandering around in a
strange city, and particularly if that city is Las Vegas. Well,
dear, I can assure you that it's perfectly safe."
"We've got work to do," Boyd contributed.
Malone said nothing. He stared bleakly at the hood ornament on
the car.
"I have made my wishes known," the Queen said.
Lady Barbara said: "But—"
Boyd, however, knew when to give in. "Yes, Your Majesty," he
said.
She smiled graciously at him, and answered Lady Barbara only by
a slight lift of her regal eyebrow.
Malone had been thinking about something else. When he was sure
he had a firm grip on himself he turned. "Your Majesty, tell me
something," he said. "You can read my mind, right?"
"Well, of course, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said. "I thought I'd
proved that to you. And, as for what you're about to ask—"
"No," Malone said. "Please. Let me ask the questions before you
answer them. It's less confusing that way. I'll cheerfully admit
that it shouldn't be—but it is. Please?"
"Certainly, Sir Kenneth, if you wish," the Queen said. She
folded her hands in her lap and waited quietly.
"Okay," Malone said. "Now, if you can read my mind, then you
must know that I don't really believe that you are Queen
Elizabeth of England. The First, I mean."
"Mr. Malone," Barbara Wilson said suddenly. "I—"
"It's all right, child," the Queen said. "He doesn't disturb me.
And I do wish you'd call him Sir Kenneth. That's his title, you
know."
"Now that's what I mean," Malone said. "Why do you want us to
act as if we believe you, when you know we don't?"
"Because that's the way people do act," the Queen said calmly.
"Very few people really believe that their so-called superiors
are superior. Almost none of them do, in fact."
"Now wait a minute," Boyd began.
"No, no, it's quite true," the Queen said, "and, unpleasant as
it may be, we must learn to face the truth. That's the path of
sanity." Lady Barbara made a strangled noise but Her Majesty
continued, unruffled. "Nearly everybody suffers from the silly
delusion that he's possibly equal to, but very probably superior
to, everybody else—my goodness, where would we be if that were
true?"
Malone felt that a comment was called for, and he made one. "Who
knows?" he said.
"All the things people do toward their superiors," the Queen
said, "are done for social reasons. For instance, Sir Kenneth: you
don't realize fully how you feel about Mr. Burris."
"He's a hell of a fine guy," Malone said. "I work for him. He's
a good Director of the FBI."
"Of course," the Queen said. "But you believe you could do the
job just as well, or perhaps a little better."
"I do not," Malone said angrily.
Her Majesty reserved a dignified silence.
After a while Malone said: "And what if I do?"
"Why, nothing," Her Majesty said. "You don't think Mr. Burris is
any smarter or better than you are—but you treat him as if you did.
All I am insisting on is the same treatment."
"But if we don't believe—" Boyd began.
"Bless you," Her Majesty said, "I can't help the way you
think, but, as Queen, I do have some control over the way
you act."
Malone thought it over. "You have a point there," he said at
last.
Barbara said: "But—"
"Yes, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said, "I do." She seemed to be
ignoring Lady Barbara. Perhaps, Malone thought, she was still angry
over the nap affair. "It's not that," the Queen said.
"Not what?" Boyd said, thoroughly confused.
"Not the naps," the Queen said.
"What naps?" Boyd said. Malone said: "I was thinking—"
"Good," Boyd said. "Keep it up. I'm driving. Everything's going
to hell around me, but I'm driving."
A red light appeared ahead. Boyd jammed on the brakes with
somewhat more than the necessary force, and Malone was thrown
forward with a grunt. Behind him there were two ladylike
squeals.
Malone struggled upright. "Barbara?" he called. "Are you all
right—" Then he remembered the Queen.
"It's all right," Her Majesty said. "I can understand your
concern for Lady Barbara." She smiled at Malone as he turned.
Malone gaped at her. Of course she knew what he thought about
Barbara; she'd been reading his mind. And, apparently, she was on
his side. That was good, even though it made him slightly nervous
to think about.
"Now," the Queen said suddenly, "what about tonight?"
"Tonight?"
"Yes, of course," the Queen said. She smiled, and put up a hand
to pat at her white hair under the Elizabethan skullcap. "I think I
should like to go to the Palace," she said. "After all, isn't that
where a Queen should be?"
Boyd said, in a kind of explosion: "London? England?"
"Oh, dear me… ." the Queen began, and Barbara said:
"I'm afraid that I simply can't allow anything like that.
Overseas—"
"I didn't mean overseas, dear," Her Majesty said. "Sir Kenneth,
please explain to these people."
The Palace, Malone knew, was more properly known as the Golden
Palace. It was right in Las Vegas—convenient to all sources of
money.
As a matter of fact, it was one of the biggest gambling houses
along the Las Vegas strip, a veritable chaos of wheels, cards,
dice, chips and other such devices. Malone explained all this to
the others, wondering meanwhile why Miss Thompson wanted to go
there.
"Not Miss Thompson, please, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty
said.
"Not Miss Thompson what?" Boyd said. "What's going on
anyhow?"
"She's reading my mind," Malone said.
"Well, then," Boyd snapped, "tell her to keep it to herself."
The car started up again with a roar and Malone and the others were
thrown around again, this time toward the back. There was a chorus
of groans and squeals, and they were on their way once more.
"To reply to your question, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said.
Lady Barbara said, with some composure: "What question—Your
Majesty?"
The Queen nodded regally at her. "Sir Kenneth was wondering why
I wished to go to the Golden Palace," she said. "And my reply is
this: it is none of your business why I want to go there. After
all, is my word law, or isn't it?"
There didn't seem to be a good enough answer to that, Malone
thought sadly. He kept quiet and was relieved to note that the
others did the same. However, after a second he thought of
something else.
"Your Majesty," he began carefully, "we've got to go to Yucca
Flats tomorrow. Remember?"
"Certainly," the Queen said. "My memory is quite good, thank
you. But that is tomorrow morning. We have the rest of the night
left. It's only a little after nine, you know."
"Heavens," Barbara said. "Is it that late?"
"It's even later," Boyd said sourly. "It's much later than you
think."
"And it's getting later all the time," Malone added. "Pretty
soon the sun will go out and all life on earth will end. Won't that
be nice and peaceful?"
"I'm looking forward to it," Boyd said.
"I'm not," Barbara said. "But I've got to get some sleep
tonight, if I'm going to be any good at all tomorrow."
You're pretty good right now, Malone thought, but he
didn't say a word. He felt the Queen's eye on him but didn't turn
around. After all, she was on his side—wasn't she?
At any rate, she didn't say anything.
"Perhaps it would be best," Barbara said, "if you and I—Your
Majesty—just went home and rested up. Some other time, then, when
there's nothing vital to do, we could—"
"No," the Queen said. "We couldn't. Really, Lady Barbara, how
often will I have to remind you of the duties you owe your
sovereign—not the least of which is obedience, as dear old Ben used
to say."
"Ben?" Malone said, and immediately wished he hadn't.
"Johnson, dear boy," the Queen said. "Really a remarkable
man—and such a good friend to poor Will. Why, did you ever hear the
story of how he actually paid Will's rent in London once upon a
time? That was while Will and that Anne of his were having one of
their arguments, of course. I didn't tell you that story, did
I?"
"No," Malone said truthfully, but his voice was full of
foreboding. "If I might remind Your Majesty of the subject," he
added tentatively, "I should like to say—"
"Remind me of the subject!" the Queen said, obviously delighted.
"What a lovely pun! And how much better because purely unconscious!
My, my, Sir Kenneth, I never suspected you of a pointed sense of
humor—could you be a descendant of Sir Richard Greene, I
wonder?"
"I doubt it," Malone said. "My ancestors were all poor but
Irish." He paused. "Or, if you prefer, Irish, but poor." Another
pause, and then he added: "If that means anything at all. Which I
doubt."
"In any case," the Queen said, her eyes twinkling, "you were
about to enter a new objection to our little visit to the Palace,
were you not?"
Malone admitted as much. "I really think that—"
Her eyes grew suddenly cold. "If I hear any more objections, Sir
Kenneth, I shall not only rescind your knighthood and—when I regain
my rightful kingdom—deny you your dukedom, but I shall refuse to
cooperate any further in the business of Project Isle."
Malone turned cold. His face, he knew without glancing in the
mirror, was white and pale. He thought of what Burris would do to
him if he didn't follow through on his assigned job.
Even if he wasn't as good as Burris thought he was, he really
liked being an FBI agent. He didn't want to be fired.
And Burris had said: "Give her anything she wants."
He gulped and tried to make his face look normal. "All right,"
he said. "Fine. We'll go to the Palace."
He tried to ignore the pall of apprehension that fell over the
car.
- Writer
