What he needed was a next move. He thought for a minute, dropped the coins into the phone and dialed the number of the police commissioner's office. After a brief argument with a secretary, he had Fernack on the phone. And this time, Malone told himself, he was going to be polite. If possible. "Good afternoon, John Henry," he said sunnily, when the commissioner's face was finally on the screen. "Can you get me some more information?" Fernack stared at him sourly. "Depends," he said. "On what?" Malone said, telling himself he wasn't going to get irritated, and knowing perfectly well that he was lying. "On what kind of information you want," Fernack said. "Well," Malone said, "there's a warehouse I want to know some more about. Who the owner is, for one thing, and--" Fernack nodded. "I've got it," he said. He fished, apparently on his desk, and brought up a sheet of paper. He held it up to the screen while Malone copied off the name and address. "Lieutenant Lynch told me all about it." "Lynch?" Malone said. "But he--" "Lynch works for me, Malone," Fernack said. "Remember that." "But he said he'd--" "He said he wouldn't do anything, and he won't," Fernack said. "He just reported it to me for my action. He knew I was working with you, Malone. And I _am_ his boss, remember." "Great." Malone said. "Now, John Henry--" "Hold it, Malone," Fernack said. "I'd like a little information, too, you know. I'd like to know just what is going on, if it isn't too much trouble." "It's not that. John Henry," Malone said earnestly. "Really. It's just that I--" "All this about vanishing boys," Fernack said. "Disappearing into thin air. All this nonsense." "It isn't nonsense," Malone said. "All right," Fernack said indulgently. "Boys disappear every day like that. Sure they do." He leaned toward the screen and his voice was as hard as his face. "Malone, are these kids mixed up with those impossible robberies you had me looking up?" "Well," Malone said, "I think so. But I doubt if you could prove it." Fernack's face had begun its slow climb toward purple again. "Malone," he said, "if you're suppressing evidence, even if you are the FBI, I'll--" "I'm not suppressing any evidence," Malone said. "I don't think _you_ could prove a connection. I don't think _I_ could prove a connection. I don't think _anybody_ could--not right now." Fernack leaned back, apparently mollified. "John Henry," Malone said, "I want to ask you to keep your hands off this case. To let me handle it my way." Fernack nodded absently. "Sure, Malone," he said. "_What?_" "I said sure," Fernack said. "Isn't that what you wanted?" "Well, yes," Malone said, "but--"