Psychic ability -- Fiction; Science fiction; Telepathy -- Fiction; United States. Federal Bureau of Investigation -- Fiction
“Andrew will give him a cover-up explanation they’re working out,” Lou
said. “That will convince Boyd there’s nothing more to worry about. Of
course, we may have to change his mind about a few things, but we can
do that, probably through you, since you know him best. There’s
nothing for you to worry over, Ken. Nothing at all.”
“Good,” Malone said. He leaned over and kissed her. “Because I’m not
in the least worried.”
Lou sighed deeply, looking off into space.
“Luba Malone,” she said. “It sounds nice. And, after all, my mother
was Irish. At least it sounds better than Garbitsch.”
“What doesn’t?” Malone said automatically. Then he blinked. “Hey,
_I’m_ Malone!” he said. “How could you be Malone?”
“Me?” Lou said. She caroled happily. “I’m Malone because I love you,
love you with all my heart.”
“That,” Malone said, “does it. A woman after my own heart.”
Lou made a low curtsy.
“And a woman of grace and breeding,” Malone said. “Eftsoons, if that
means anything.”
“You know,” Lou said, “I like you even better when you’re being Sir
Kenneth. Especially when you’re talking to yourself.”
“My innate gallantry and all my good qualities come out,” Malone said.
“Yes,” Lou said. “Indeed they do. All over the place. It’s nice to go
back to Elizabethan times, anyhow, in the middle of all these
troubles.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Malone said. “There’s always been trouble. In the
Middle Ages, it was witches. In the Seventeenth Century, it was
demons. In the Nineteenth it was revolutions. In—”
Lou cut him off with a kiss. When she broke away Malone raised his
eyebrows.
“I prithee,” he said, “interrupt me not. I am developing a scheme of
philosophy. There have always been troubles. In the 1890’s there was a
Depression and panic, and the Spanish-American War—”
“All right, Sirrah,” Lou said. “And then what?”
“Let’s see,” Malone said, reverting to 1973 for a second. “In 1903
there was the airplane, and troubles abroad.”
“Yes?” Lou said. “Do go on, Sirrah. Your liege awaits your slightest
word.”
“Hmm,” Malone said.
“That, Milord, was a very slight word indeed,” Lou said. “What’s after
1903?”
Malone smiled and went back to the days of the First Elizabeth
happily.
“In 1914, it was enemy aliens,” said Sir Kenneth Malone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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