By the time a good deal of that was awash in Boyd's intestinal system, he was almost capable of rational, connected conversation. He filled himself to the eyebrows with aspirins and other remedies, and actually succeeded in getting dressed. He seemed quite proud of this feat. "O.K.," Malone said. "Now we have to go downstairs." "You mean outside?" Boyd said. "Into all that noise?" He winced. "Bite the bullet," Malone said cheerfully. "Keep a stiff upper lip." "Nonsense," Boyd said, hunting for his coat with a doleful air. "Have you ever seen anybody with a loose upper lip?" Malone, busy with his own coat, didn't bother with a reply. He managed somehow to get Boyd downstairs and bundled into a cab. They headed for Sixty-ninth Street. * * * * * There, he made several phone calls. The first, of course, was to Burris in Washington. After that he got the New York Police Commissioner on the wire and, finding that he needed still more authority, he called the Mayor and then, by long-distance to Albany, the Governor. But by noon he had everything straightened out. He had a plan fully worked out in his mind, and he had the authority to go ahead with it. Now, he could make his final call. "They're completely trustworthy," Burris had told him. "Not only that, but they have a clearance for this kind of special work--we've needed them before." "Good," Malone said. "Not only that," Burris told him. "They're good men. Maybe among the best in their field." So Malone made his last call, to the firm of Leibowitz & Hardin, Electronic Engineers. Then he beckoned to Boyd. "I don't see what I've been sitting around here for, all this time," his partner complained. "I could have been home sleeping until you needed me. And--" "I need you now," Malone said. "I want you to take over part of this plan." Boyd nodded sourly. "Oh, all right," he said. "Here's what I want," Malone said. "Every red 1972 Cadillac in the area is to be picked up for inspection. I don't care why--make up a reason. A general traffic check. Anything you please. You can work that end of it out with the Commissioner; he knows about it and he's willing to go along." "Great," Boyd said. "Do you have any idea how many cars there are in a city this size?" "Well, we don't want all of them," Malone said. "Only red 1972 Cadillacs." "It's still a lot," Boyd said. "If there were only three," Malone said, "we wouldn't have any problems." "And wouldn't that be nice?" Boyd said. "Sure," Malone said, "but it isn't true. Anyhow: I want every one of those cars checked for any oddity, no matter how small. If there's an inch-long scratch on one fender, I want to know about it. If you've got to take the cars apart, then do that." "Me?" Boyd said. "All by myself?" "No," Malone said. "Use your head. There'll be a team working with you. Let me explain it. Every nut, every bolt, every inch of those cars has to be examined thoroughly--got it?"