"No what...?"

"Joseph Tinker!" she cried. "Be quiet!" She stormed out.

In about twenty minutes the buzzer on my pix-box sounded, and I depressed the key. Anita's face was tense on the small screen.

"Just got a flash," she said. "Fred has her in his 'copter and will let down on the roof in about four or five minutes. I'll need a couple minutes more than that. Now don't you let him in with her before I get there, do you hear me?"

I said I heard her. She beat Fred at that. For all I know she had b.o.o.by-trapped them in getting down from the roof. Anita has drag with everybody in the building, and that could have included the elevator service man, who quite easily could have loused service to the roof enough to delay Fred.

Anita came in. "Mr. Tinker," she said crisply. "Meet Tony Carlucci."

I stood up. Tony was a darned good-looking chap, about my age, with very dark hair, somewhat curly, and a flash of white teeth for a smile. I told him I was pleased to meet him.

"Move over," Anita directed, stepping smartly around my desk and giving my elbow a sharp yank. "You sit behind the desk, Tony. Now try to look like a big wheel, for heaven's sake."

"I _am_ a big wheel," Tony protested. "In the used 'copter racket."

Anita was already reaching up to push down on my shoulders. "Won't you sit down?" she demanded. She had me in one of the comfortable chairs I have in my office for callers, rather off to one side. She put herself down in the chair across my desk from Tony Carlucci, as though she were getting instructions.

He didn't need much hinting. "Tell the bulls we're gonna clean up the District," he started, waving his hands around. "No more poker. No more dice. No more Sneaky Pete." I'd never heard of that.

"Shut up!" Anita said. "He'll be here any instant."

Fred was as good as her word. He was holding the door for his telepath within seconds. Tony Carlucci stopped hamming it up and straightened importantly in my chair. I had to admit that Anita had found a guy who, superficially, resembled me more than a little. No one who knew either of us would ever mistake one for the other, but our general descriptions were quite similar.

The woman who came in not only was a gypsy, she was dressed as a gypsy.

Her blouse was white, and quite frilly. She had on a billowing red skirt, liberally encrusted with embroidered beads of a darker red. The tattered hem of a petticoat hung below it. Her hair had been dark once, but it was shot with threads of silver. There was a lot of it, and piled up high so that her ears were exposed. They had pierced lobes, and heavy gold rings hung from them.

Instinctively I closed my mind as tight as a clam. The mere sight of a telepath triggers that reaction. Fred closed the door behind him, continuing to stand just behind his captive. She glanced briefly at me and then looked for a longer moment at Tony Carlucci, behind my desk.

"Joe," she said to him. "Joe, don't let them do this to me!"

I don't know how much coaching Anita had given Carlucci, but he knew enough to call her "mother." And I knew enough to watch Fred Plaice the instant Tony said: "Oh, mother! Why the devil couldn't you keep out of sight!"

Fred was one mighty confused looking boy. The two-bit word is consternation. He had it. Anita had given him the business.

"I'm sorry, madame," I said standing and walking over to where Tony was emoting, with the back of his hand pressed to his eyes. "We threw you a curve. Meet Mr. Tony Carlucci." Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "And I, madame, am Joseph Tinker."

"Joe!" she cried, or wailed is a better word, and threw herself around the desk to seize me in her arms. She smelled faintly of garlic, oregano and some kind of incense, maybe sandalwood. A nice clean gypsy smell.

Cleaner than a lot of gypsies I can think of.

Fred pulled her off me, not too gently. I'd say he was a little sore about something. Anita's eyes were slits of fury.

"Thanks, Tony," I said. "See you around."

"Honest Tony Carlucci," he said. "If you need a used 'copter, Joe, jet on down to my dock. Nothing down. Listen, I got one that was never used except in the spring by a little old lady who gave up walking for Lent.

I'll tell you what I'll do--"

"Wasting your time," Anita told him. "The Government provides Mr. Tinker with any kind of transportation he needs. A thousand thanks, Tony. I won't forget--" The rest was cut off as she gave him one of the more polite b.u.m's rushes. I think he would have liked to hang around to see the rest of our little amateur theatrical.

Fred had his grin going. "Couldn't get the drift for a minute, Gyp," he said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Nice work! Now I know why I get such a kick out of working for you!" He whirled on Maude Tinker. "And you, you foolish old biddy! How far do you think you would get with an act like this against another telepath?"

She spat a curse at him in Romany. "So smart!" she sneered. "There isn't another telepath in the city of Washington!"

That was a laugh. For its own safety the F.B.I. has its own gang of tame TP's--they are all, of course, exceptionally short-range telepaths, and we practically keep them under lock and key to make sure some important thoughts don't leak in and out of their diseased minds.

"Send in Freeda Sayer," I said, leaning down to press the intercommute.

Freeda is a thick-ankled, thick-headed telepath. But stupid or not, she is telepathic, and _is_ an acid test in these cases.

"Is this woman a telepath?" I asked Freeda, when she stumped in.

Freeda looked at Maude Tinker, her mouth hanging a little open. She snuffled and walked quite close to the gypsy woman. "Yeah," she said.

"She knows I'm thinking her hem is torn." She turned her head with that low-thyroid slowness to me. "Is that all, Mr. Tinker?" she asked.

Fred answered. "Swell, Freeda. That's all."

Freeda wandered out.

Fred said: "O.K., Gyp. What'll I do with her?"

"Sit down, Mrs. ... it is Mrs., isn't it? ... Mrs. Tinker, won't you please?" I said in answer to his question. She took the chair Anita had been using when Tony was pretending to be me, and I sat down in my swivel across the desk from her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Tinker," I said. "It's bad enough that you have deliberately stayed in the District after all telepaths were most stringently warned to register with us so that we could move them to less sensitive areas. But I take it quite hard that you have tried to embarra.s.s me."

"That would take a little doing," she said. "You've got a heart like a piece of flint. Let me see your palm!" she demanded, reaching imperatively across my desk. Fred started to protest, but I pa.s.sed my hand across to her, leaning forward so that she could reach it.

Maude Tinker smoothed out my palm, rubbing her thumb over it as if to clear away a veil of mystery, and bent close over it, her dark face intense. She traced a line or two with her fingernail, and dropped my hand to the walnut. "You have no mercy," she said. "You will use the excuse that I tried to hinder the work of your department as a reason to punish me severely--and your real reason is that you feel I might have damaged you personally."

Fred was moving around the desk. He spoke softly in my ear while I kept my eye on the gypsy. That was silly. He can't close his mind the way I can. She could read his thoughts just as well as if he were screaming them out loud.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"That's a charge she may repeat, Gyp," he said. "n.o.body could blame you, if you disqualified yourself from this decision. I think we could get the newscasts to see it as impeccable public behavior. We'll paint you as the administrator so devoted to pure justice that even potential resentment will be a barrier to your personal decision. How's that sound to you, Gyp?"

"The day you have to start painting a picture for them, I've had it, Fred," I said. I felt sure Anita had overheard his soft words in my ear, but to be sure, I added, "I think it would be suicide to disqualify myself from this case. That's just the first step to disqualifying myself from the job. If there's any hint of telepathic heredity in my case, ducking this decision would be a public admission that I'm sensitive in that area. No. I'll handle it."

Anita nodded slowly to me. Well, she had called it. Maybe she _was_ right about Fred. "Tell you what," I said. "Several things about this case interest me. If we are to believe her, this woman has had absolutely no contact with any other telepath in Washington--she thought she was the only one who had escaped our dragnet. Why don't all of you shoo--I want to do a little survey in depth here--a little motivational work. I think I can get more frankness out of her if there are no witnesses. Beat it, kids."

Anita left with Fred. Maude Tinker and I were alone in my office. I looked at her with a smile.

"h.e.l.lo, Joe," she said.