The sun was certainly bright enough, for one thing. It glared through the cloudless sky and glanced with blinding force off the road. Sir Thomas Boyd squinted at it through the rather incongruous sunglasses he was wearing, while Malone wondered idly if it was the sunglasses, or the rest of the world, that was an anachronism. But Sir Thomas kept his eyes grimly on the road as he gunned the powerful Lincoln toward the Yucca Flats Labs at eighty miles an hour. Malone twisted himself around and faced the women in the back seat. Past them, through the rear window of the Lincoln, he could see the second car. It followed them gamely, carrying the newest addition to Sir Kenneth Malone's Collection of Bats. "Bats?" Her Majesty said suddenly, but gently. "Shame on you, Sir Kenneth. These are poor, sick people. We must do our best to help them--not to think up silly names for them. For shame!" "I suppose so," Malone said wearily. He sighed and, for the fifth time that day, he asked: "Does Your Majesty have any idea where our spy is now?" "Well, really, Sir Kenneth," the Queen said with the slightest of hesitations, "it isn't easy, you know. Telepathy has certain laws, just like everything else. After all, even a game has laws. Being telepathic did not help me to play poker--I still had to learn the rules. And telepathy has rules, too. A telepath can easily confuse another telepath by using some of those rules." "Oh, fine," Malone said. "Well, have you got into contact with his mind yet?" "Oh, yes," Her Majesty said happily. "And my goodness, he's certainly digging up a lot of information, isn't he?" Malone moaned softly. "But who _is_ he?" he asked after a second. The Queen stared at the roof of the car in what looked like concentration. "He hasn't thought of his name yet," she said. "I mean, at least if he has, he hasn't mentioned it to me. Really, Sir Kenneth, you have no idea how difficult all this is." Malone swallowed with difficulty. "_Where_ is he, then?" he said. "Can you tell me that, at least? His location?" Her Majesty looked positively desolated with sadness. "I can't be sure," she said. "I really can't be exactly sure just where he is. He does keep moving around, I know that. But you have to remember that he doesn't want me to find him. He certainly doesn't want to be found by the FBI ... would you?" "Your Majesty," Malone said, "I _am_ the FBI." "Yes," the Queen said, "but suppose you weren't? He's doing his best to hide himself, even from me. It's sort of a game he's playing." "A game!" Her Majesty looked contrite. "Believe me, Sir Kenneth, the minute I know exactly where he is, I'll tell you. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die--which I can't, of course, being immortal." Nevertheless, she made an X-mark over her left breast. "All right?" "All right," Malone said, out of sheer necessity. "O.K. But don't waste any time telling me. Do it right away. We've _got_ to find that spy and isolate him somehow."