Psychic ability -- Fiction; Science fiction; United States. Federal Bureau of Investigation -- Fiction
"The car was hitting it up at about a hundred and ten by this time,
and accelerating all the time. But the souped-up squad car was coming
on fast, too, and it was quite a chase. Luckily, there weren't many
cars on the road. Somebody could have been killed, Malone."
"Like the driver of the Cadillac," Malone ventured.
Burris looked pained. "Not exactly," he said. "Because the car hit the
125th Street exit like a bomb. It swerved right, just as though it
were going to take the exit and head off somewhere, but it was going
much too fast by that time. There just wasn't any way to maneuver. The
Cadillac hit the embankment, flipped over the edge, and smashed. It
caught fire almost at once. Of course the prowl car braked fast and
went down the exit after it. But there wasn't anything to do."
"That's what I said," Malone said. "The driver of the Cadillac was
killed. In a fire like that--"
"Don't jump to conclusions, Malone," Burris said. "Wait. When the
prowl car boys got to the scene, there was no sign of anybody in the
car. Nobody at all."
"In the heat of those flames--" Malone began.
"Not enough heat, and not enough time," Burris said. "A human body
couldn't have been destroyed in just a few minutes, not that
completely. Some of the car's metal was melted, sure; but there would
have been traces of anybody who'd been in the car. Nice, big, easily
seen traces. And there weren't any. No corpse, no remains, no
nothing."
Malone let that stew in his mind for a few seconds. "But the cops
said--"
"Whatever the cops said," Burris snapped, "there was nobody at all in
that Cadillac when it went off the embankment."
"Now, wait a minute," Malone said. "Here's a car with a driver who
appears and disappears practically at will. Sometimes he's there and
sometimes he's not there."
"Ah," Burris said. "That's why I have another explanation."
Malone shifted his feet. Maybe there _was_ another explanation. But,
he told himself, it would have to be a good one.
"Nobody expects a car to drive itself down a highway," Burris said.
"That's right," Malone said. "That's why it's all impossible."
"So," Burris said, "it would be a natural hallucination--or illusion,
anyhow--for somebody to imagine he did see a driver when there wasn't
any."
"Okay," Malone said. "There wasn't any driver. So the car couldn't
have gone anywhere. So the New York police force is lying to us. It's
a good explanation, but it--"
"They aren't lying," Burris said. "Why should they? I'm thinking of
something else." He stopped, his eyes bright as he leaned across the
desk toward Malone.
"Do I get three guesses?" Malone said.
Burris ignored him. "Frankly," he said, "I've got a hunch that the
whole thing was done with remote control. Somewhere in that car was a
very cleverly concealed device that was capable of running the
Cadillac from a distance."
It did sound plausible, Malone thought. "Did the prowl car boys find
any traces of it when they examined the wreckage?" he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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