Tinker's Dam Part 5

"One favor," I said, not answering him. "Don't move Fred Plaice up to my old spot. Any of the other Section Chiefs, but not Fred."

"Well, well," George said, whipping up the bra.s.ses with his cigar.

"This begins to sound like cause and effect." He hushed the whole orchestra to a whisper. "I thought Fred was your fair-haired boy, Gyp.

You two get in a ha.s.sle?"

I shook my head. "Not directly, George," I told him. "I want you to know two things. They'll explain why I'm quitting. My mother is a telepath.

We arrested her early this morning, here in the District. I just sentenced her to transportation and detention in Oklahoma."

"Good heavens," he gasped. "Your own mother! Gyp, no wonder you're upset. Didn't you know she was a snake?"

My smile was a little tired. "Of course I knew," I told him. "I ran away from home at thirteen to get away from having her inside my head all the time. That's how I learned to close my mind--closing her out as much as I could. The power got stronger as I grew older."

"It's embarra.s.sing," George said, turning away from me to look out the window. "To have you, of all people, Gyp, with telepathic heredity.

Still, if no one knows, and since you've never had the slightest manifestation of psi powers yourself, there may be some way we can preserve your usefulness."

"Today, within the last half hour, George, my latent telepathic ability became manifest. George, I'm a snake."

His face froze. Then the batonlike cigar stopped its movement. He was like a statue. The pose broke, and he pressed a b.u.t.ton.

"Send Carol Lundgren in," he ordered. I knew Carol, another short-range telepath that George used as his private lie-detector.

Carol was at my elbow in a moment or so. George wasted no words. "Carol, is there a telepath in this room?" he asked.

Carol grinned. "Yep," he said to the enforced silence. "There is."

George Kelly's face fell. "His name is Carol Lundgren," the kid went on.

"Next question?"

George looked as though he could have brained him. "All right, you Philadelphia lawyer," he grumbled. "Besides yourself, Carol, is there a telepath in this room?"

"No, Mr. Kelly, there is not."

"Get out, and don't scare me like that again." George told him.

I didn't get it. I said so: "George, I don't get it. I read my mother's thoughts, and for that matter, Fred Plaice's thoughts, too. That's why I asked you not to give him my job. I swear to you I can read thoughts."

"So?"

"If I _know_ I'm a telepath, Carol should be able to read the thought that I know it," I protested.

"You're like me," George Kelly said. "You automatically close your mind in the presence of a telepath. It's pure reflex now. Carol couldn't read a thing because you clammed your thoughts the instant he walked in."

"That was _then_!" I yelled at him. "_Before_ my psi powers became manifest. You know that a telepath can't close his mind! Why couldn't Carol read my thoughts?"

_Well_, George thought, _he couldn't read mine either, could he?_

_No_, I thought. _He couldn't. He ... George!_ my mind shrieked at him.

Somebody kicked the props out from under my world. _George Kelly was a snake!_

_Don't be silly_, he thought. _I'm no more a snake than you are, Gyp._

_But you're a telepath!_

_So are you, Gyp_, he thought. _The only kind of telepath that really counts. You can read minds, but others can't read yours._

I fell back on words, closing my mind--it was rattling so I didn't want George to read my thoughts: "But a telepath _can't_ close his mind!" I protested.

"I hope the Russians are as sure of that as you are, Gyp," George grinned. "The only agents we have in Russia are closed-mind telepaths--telepaths who don't automatically give themselves away. Now _that_ kind of a telepath really _is_ a usable espionage agent or a safe link in a communications net."

"How long has this been going on?"

"About three years, Gyp. When we discovered that certain training could make some telepaths closed-mind operators, we got the President to promulgate the Executive Orders that Congress later made into law. We got all ordinary telepaths out of circulation and put to work those that we could train to closed-mind operation. Now you know why I won't take your resignation."

I sputtered. "George, how can I conscientiously crack down on these poor people, if I'm a TP myself?"

He grinned. "You won't. You'll still be doing just what you've always been doing, except now you'll _know_ that you're doing it. You'll be recruiting telepaths for us. Where do you think we train them?"

"Oklahoma? The Detention area?"

"Sure. Where else? Now relax. But for heaven's sake, don't ever leak this. We feel sure the Russians haven't discovered this business of closed-mind telepaths yet. Some day, I suppose, they will. It may take a long time. The self-realized closed-mind telepath like you, Gyp, is a rarity. Mostly we have to train people rigorously for it. It took your mother over two years to learn it."

"My mother!"

"Sure. Why did you think she was in Was.h.i.+ngton? She's part of the Sevastopol, Teheran and Cairo communications network."

"George," I insisted. "Something is shaky. If she's on the inside, how did she ever get picked up?"

He laughed. "Just part of her cover. Fred Plaice got too close. We know what he is, Gyp. But we didn't dare to have him guess what your mother was. She's on her way to a nice California vacation. New a.s.signment after that. Maybe middle Europe. After all, she _is_ a gypsy. Ought to go well, say, in Bulgaria!"

THE END