Out Like a Light, Page 2

  II.

  And it had all started so simply, too. Malone remembered very clearlythe first time he had had any indication that red Cadillacs wereanything unusual, or special. Before that, he'd viewed them all withslightly wistful eyes: red, blue, green, gray, white or even blackCadillacs were all the same to him. They spelled luxury and wealth anddisplay and a lot of other nice things.

  Now, he wasn't at all sure what they spelled. Except that it wasdefinitely uncomfortable, and highly baffling.

  He'd walked into the offices of Andrew J. Burris, Director of the FBI,just one week ago. It was a beautiful office, pine paneled and spacious,and it boasted an enormous polished desk. And behind the desk Burrishimself sat, looking both tired and somehow a little kindly.

  "You sent for me, chief?" Malone said.

  "That's right." Burris nodded. "Malone, you've been working too hardlately."

  Now, Malone thought, it was coming. The dismissal he'd always feared. Atleast Burris had found out that he wasn't the bright, intelligent,fearless and alert FBI agent he was supposed to be. Burris haddiscovered that he was nothing more or less than lucky, and that all the"fine jobs" he was supposed to have done were only the result of luck.

  Oh, well, Malone thought. Not being an FBI agent wouldn't be so bad. Hecould always find another job.

  Only at the moment he couldn't think of one he liked.

  He decided to make one last plea.

  "I haven't been working so hard, chief," he said. "Not too hard, anyhow.I'm in great shape. I--"

  "I've taken advantage of you, Malone, that's what I've done," Burrissaid, just as if Malone hadn't spoken at all. "Just because you're thebest agent I've got, that's no reason for me to hand you all the toughones."

  "Just because I'm what?" Malone said, feeling slightly faint.

  "I've given you the tough ones because you could handle them," Burrissaid. "But that's no reason to keep loading jobs on you. After that jobyou did on the Gorelik kidnapping, and the way you wrapped up theTransom counterfeit ring ... well, Malone, I think you need a littlerelaxation."

  "Relaxation?" Malone said, feeling just a little bit pleased. Of course,he didn't deserve any of the praise he was getting, he knew. He'd justhappened to walk in on the Gorelik kidnappers because his telephone hadbeen out of order. And the Transom ring hadn't been just his job. Afterall, if other agents hadn't managed to trace the counterfeit bills backto a common area in Cincinnati, he'd never have been able to completehis part of the assignment. But it was nice to be praised, anyhow.Malone felt a twinge of guilt, and told himself sternly to relax andenjoy himself.

  "That's what I said," Burris told him. "Relaxation."

  "Well," Malone said, "I certainly would like a vacation, that's forsure. I'd like to snooze for a couple of weeks--or maybe go up to CapeCod for a while. There's a lot of nice scenery up around there. It'srestful, sort of, and I could just--"

  He stopped. Burris was frowning, and when Andrew J. Burris frowned itwas a good idea to look attentive, interested and alert. "Now, Malone,"Burris said sadly, "I wasn't thinking about a vacation. You're notscheduled for one until August, you know--"

  "Oh, I know, chief," Malone said. "But I thought--"

  "Much as I'd like to," Burris said, "I just can't make an exception; youknow that, Malone. I've got to go pretty much by the schedule."

  "Yes, sir," Malone said, feeling just a shade disappointed.

  "But I do think you deserve a rest," Burris said.

  "Well, if I--"

  "Here's what I'm going to do," Burris said, and paused. Malone felt alittle unsure as to exactly what his chief was talking about, but by nowhe knew better than to ask a lot of questions. Sooner or later, Burriswould probably explain himself. And if he didn't, then there was no useworrying about it. That was just the way Burris acted.

  "Suppose I gave you a chance to take it easy for a while," Burris said."You could catch up on your sleep, see some shows, have a couple ofdrinks during the evening, take girls out for dinner--you know.Something like that. How would you like it?"

  "Well--" Malone said cautiously.

  "Good," Burris said. "I knew you would."

  * * * * *

  Malone opened his mouth, thought briefly and closed it again. After all,it did sound sort of promising, and if there was a catch in it he'd findout about it soon enough.

  "It's really just a routine case," Burris said in an offhand tone."Nothing to it."

  "Oh," Malone said.

  "There's this red Cadillac," Burris said. "It was stolen from a party inConnecticut, out near Danbury, and it showed up in New York City. Now,the car's crossed a state line."

  "That puts it in our jurisdiction," Malone said, feeling obvious.

  "Right," Burris said. "Right on the nose."

  "But the New York office--"

  "Naturally, they're in charge of everything," Burris said. "But I'msending you out as sort of a special observer. Just keep your eyes openand nose around and let me know what's happening."

  "Keep my eyes and nose what?" Malone said.

  "Open," Burris said. "And let me know about it."

  Malone tried to picture himself with his eyes and nose open, and decidedhe didn't look very attractive that way. Well, it was only a figure ofspeech or something. He didn't have to think about it.

  It really made a very ugly picture.

  "But why a special observer?" he said after a second. Burris could readthe reports from the New York office, and probably get more facts thanany single agent could find out just wandering around a strange city. Itsounded as if there were something, Malone told himself, just a tinyshade rotten in Denmark. It sounded as if there were going to besomething in the nice, easy assignment he was getting that would makehim wish he'd gone lion-hunting in Darkest Africa instead.

  And then again, maybe he was wrong. He stood at ease and waited to findout.

  "Well," Burris said, "it is just a routine case. Just like I said. Butthere seems to be something a little bit odd about it."

  "I see," Malone said with a sinking feeling.

  "Here's what happened," Burris said hurriedly, as if he were afraidMalone was going to change his mind and refuse the assignment. "This redCadillac I told you about was reported stolen from Danbury. Three dayslater, it turned up in New York City--parked smack across the streetfrom a precinct police station. Of course it took them a while to wakeup, but one of the officers happened to notice the routine report onstolen cars in the area, and he decided to go across the street andcheck the license number on the car. Then something funny happened."

  "Something funny?" Malone asked. He doubted that, whatever it was, itwas going to make him laugh. But he kept his face a careful, receptiveblank.

  "That's right," Burris said. "Now, if you're going to understand whathappened, you've got to get the whole picture."

  "Sure," Malone said.

  "Only that isn't what I mean," Burris added suddenly.

  Malone blinked. "_What_ isn't what you mean?" he said.

  "Understanding what happened," Burris said. "That's the trouble. Youwon't understand what happened. I don't understand it and neither doesanybody else. So what do you think about it?"

  "Think about what?" Malone said.

  "About what I've been telling you," Burris snapped. "This car."

  Malone took a deep breath. "Well," he said, "this officer went over tocheck the license plate. It seems like the right thing to do. It's justwhat I'd have done myself."

  "Sure you would," Burris said. "Anybody would. But listen to me."

  "All right, chief," Malone said.

  "It was just after dawn--early in the morning." Malone wondered brieflyif there were parts of the world where dawn came, say, late in theafternoon or during the evening some time, but he said nothing. "Thestreet was deserted," Burris went on. "But it was pretty light out, andthe witnesses are willing to swear that there was nobody on that streetfor a block in either direction. Except them, of course.
"

  "Except who?" Malone said.

  "Except the witnesses," Burris said patiently. "Four cops, policeofficers who were standing on the front steps of the precinct station,talking. They were waiting to go on duty, or anyhow that's what thereport said. It's lucky they were there, for whatever reason; they'rethe only witnesses we've got."

  Burris stopped. Malone waited a few seconds and then said, as calmly ashe could: "Witnesses to what?"

  "To this whole business with Sergeant Jukovsky," Burris said.

  * * * * *

  The sudden introduction of a completely new name confused Malone for aninstant, but he recovered gamely. "Sergeant Jukovsky was the man whoinvestigated the car," he said.

  "That's right," Burris said. "Except that he didn't."

  Malone sighed.

  "Those four officers--the witnesses--they weren't paying much attentionto what looked like the routine investigation of a parked car," Burrissaid. "But here's their testimony. They were standing around talkingwhen this Sergeant Jukovsky came out of the station, spoke to them inpassing, and went on across the street. He didn't seem very worried oralarmed about anything."

  "Good," Malone said involuntarily. "I mean, go on, chief," he added.

  "Ah," Burris said. "All right. Well. According to Jukovsky, he took alook at the plate and found the numbers checked the listing he had for astolen Connecticut car. Then he walked around to take a look inside thecar. It was empty. Get that, Malone. The car was empty."

  "Well," Malone said, "it was parked. I suppose parked cars are usuallyempty. What's special about this one?"

  "Wait and see," Burris said ominously. "Jukovsky swears the car wasempty. He tried the doors, and they were all locked but one, the frontdoor on the curb side, the driver's door. So he opened it, and leanedover to have a look at the odometer to check the mileage. And somethingclobbered him on the back of the head."

  "One of the other cops," Malone said.

  "One of the ... who?" Burris said. "No. Not the cops. Not at all."

  "Then something fell on him," Malone said. "O.K. Then whatever fell onhim ought to be--"

  "Malone," Burris said.

  "Yes, chief?"

  "Jukovsky woke up on the sidewalk with the other cops all around him.There was nothing on that sidewalk but Jukovsky. Nothing could havefallen on him; it hadn't landed anywhere, if you see what I mean."

  "Sure," Malone said. "But--"

  "Whatever it was," Burris said, "they didn't find it. But that isn't thepeculiar thing."

  "No?"

  "No," Burris said slowly. "Now--"

  "Wait a minute," Malone said. "They looked on the sidewalk and aroundthere. But did they think to search the car?"

  "They didn't get a chance," Burris said. "Anyhow, not just then. Notuntil they got around to picking up the pieces of the car uptown, at125th Street."

  Malone closed his eyes. "Where was this precinct?" he said.

  "Midtown," Burris said. "In the Forties."

  "And the pieces of the car were eighty blocks away when they searchedit?" Malone said.

  Burris nodded.

  "All right," Malone said pleasantly. "I give up."

  "Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you," Burris said. "According tothe witnesses--not Jukovsky, who didn't wake up for a couple of minutesand so didn't see what happened next--after he fell out of the car, themotor started and the car drove off uptown."

  "Oh," Malone said. He thought about that for a minute and decided atlast to hazard one little question. It sounded silly--but then, whatdidn't? "The car just drove off all by itself?" he said.

  Burris seemed abashed. "Well, Malone," he said carefully, "that's wherethe conflicting stories of the eyewitnesses don't agree. You see, two ofthe cops say there was nobody in the car. Nobody at all. Of any kind.Small or large."

  "And the other two?" Malone said.

  "The other two swear they saw somebody at the wheel," Burris said, "butthey won't say whether it was a man, a woman, a small child or ananthropoid ape--and they haven't the faintest idea where he, she or itcame from."

  "Great," Malone said. He felt a little tired. This trip was beginning tosound less and less like a vacation.

  "Those two cops swear there was something--or somebody--driving thecar," Burris said. "And that isn't all."

  "It isn't?" Malone said.

  Burris shook his head. "A couple of the cops jumped into a squad car andstarted following the red Cadillac. One of these cops saw somebody inthe car when it left the curb. The other one didn't. Got that?"

  "I've got it," Malone said, "but I don't exactly know what to do withit."

  "Just hold on to it," Burris said, "and listen to this: the cops wereabout two blocks behind at the start, and they couldn't close the gapright away. The Cadillac headed west and climbed up the ramp of the WestSide Highway, heading north, out toward Westchester. I'd give a lot toknow where they were going, too."

  "But they crashed," Malone said, remembering that the pieces were at125th Street. "So--"

  "They didn't crash right away," Burris said. "The prowl car startedgaining on the Cadillac slowly. And--now, get this, Malone--both thecops swear there _was_ somebody in the driver's seat now."

  "Wait a minute," Malone said. "One of these cops didn't see anybody atall in the driver's seat when the car started off."

  "Right," Burris said.

  "But on the West Side Highway, he did see a driver," Malone said. Hethought for a minute. "It could happen. The start happened so fast hecould have been confused, or something."

  "There's another explanation," Burris said.

  "Sure," Malone said cheerfully. "We're all crazy. The whole world iscrazy."

  * * * * *

  "Not that one," Burris said. "I'll tell you when I finish with thisthing about the car itself. There isn't much description of whoever orwhatever was driving that car on the West Side Highway, by the way. Incase you were thinking of asking."

  Malone, who hadn't been thinking of asking anything, tried to lookclever. Burris regarded him owlishly for a second, and then went on:

  "The car was hitting it up at about a hundred and ten by this time, andaccelerating all the time. But the souped-up squad car was coming onfast, too, and it was quite a chase. Luckily, there weren't many cars onthe 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 the125th Street exit like a bomb. It swerved right, just as though it weregoing to take the exit and head off somewhere, but it was going much toofast by that time. There just wasn't any way to maneuver. The Cadillachit the embankment, flipped over the edge, and smashed. It caught firealmost at once--of course the prowl car braked fast and went down theexit, after it. But there wasn't anything to do."

  "That's what I said," Malone said. "The driver of the Cadillac waskilled. In a fire like that--"

  "Don't jump to conclusions, Malone," Burris said. "Wait. When the prowlcar 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 bodycouldn'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 beentraces 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 copssaid--"

  "Whatever the cops said," Burris snapped, "there was nobody at all inthat Cadillac when it went off the embankment."

  "Now, wait a minute," Malone said. "Here's a car with a driver whoappears and disappears practically at will. Sometimes he's there andsometimes he's not there. It's not possible."

  "Ah," Burris said. "That's why I have another explanation."

  Malone shifted his f
eet. Maybe there _was_ another explanation. But, hetold 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'tany."

  "O.K.," Malone said. "There wasn't any driver. So the car couldn't havegone anywhere. So the New York police force is lying to us. It's a goodexplanation, but it--"

  "They aren't lying," Burris said. "Why should they? I'm thinking ofsomething else." He stopped, his eyes bright as he leaned across thedesk toward Malone.

  "Do I get three guesses?" Malone said.

  Burris ignored him. "Frankly," he said, "I've got a hunch that the wholething was done with remote control. Somewhere in that car was a verycleverly concealed device that was capable of running the Cadillac froma distance."

  It did sound plausible, Malone thought. "Did the prowl car boys findany traces of it when they examined the wreckage?" he said.

  "Not a thing," Burris said. "But, after all, it could have been melted.The fire did destroy a lot of the Cadillac, and there's just no telling.But I'd give long odds that there must have been some kind of robotdevice in that car. It's the only answer, isn't it?"

  "I suppose so," Malone said.

  "Malone," Burris said, his voice filled with Devotion To One's CountryIn The Face Of Great Obstacles, "Malone, I want you to find thatdevice!"

  "In the wreck?" Malone said.

  Burris sighed and leaned back. "No," he said. "Of course not. Not in thewreck. But the other red Cadillacs--some of them, anyhow--ought tohave--"

  "What red Cadillacs?" Malone said.

  "The other ones that have been stolen. From Connecticut, mostly. Onefrom New Jersey, out near Passaic."

  "Have any of the others been moving around without drivers?" Malonesaid.

  "Well," Burris said, "there's been no report of it. But who can tell?"He gestured with both arms. "Anything is possible, Malone."

  "Sure," Malone said.

  "Now," Burris said, "all of the stolen cars are red 1972 Cadillacs.There's got to be some reason for that--and I think they're covering upanother car like the one that got smashed: a remote--controlledCadillac. Or even a self-guiding, automatic, robot-controlled Cadillac."

  "They?" Malone said. "Who?"

  "Whoever is stealing the cars," Burris said patiently.

  "Oh," Malone said. "Sure. But--"

  "So get up to New York," Burris said, "keep your eyes open, and nosearound. Got it?"

  "I have now," Malone said.

  "And when that Cadillac is found, Malone, we want to take a look at it.O.K.?"

  "Yes, sir," Malone said.