"Alone." Lynch said. "Oh." But there was nothing for him to do, Malone knew, except bow to the inevitable. "Of course," he said. "Go right ahead."
"You can stand outside the door," Malone said. "He won't get away. And you'd better hold this." Malone, knowing perfectly well that staying armed and alone in a room with a suspect was something you just did not do--for very good reasons--unstrapped his .44 Magnum and handed it to the lieutenant.
Malone could understand Lynch's attitude. If Malone solved the case, Lynch would not get any credit. Otherwise, it might go down in his personal record. And, of course, the NYPD would rather wrap the case up themselves; the FBI was treated as a necessary interference. Unfortunately, Malone thought, Lynch had had absolutely no choice. He sighed gently, and turned his attention to Mike Fueyo, who was still sitting in his chair.
"Now, Mike--" he began, and was interrupted.
The door opened. Lieutenant Lynch said: "If you need us, Malone, just yell."
"You'll hear me," Malone promised. The door shut.
He turned back to the boy. "Now, Mike," he began again, "my name is Malone, and I'm with the FBI. I'd like to ask you a few--"
"Gee, Mr. Malone," Mike broke in eagerly. "I'm glad you're here."
"These cops here have been giving me a pretty rough deal, you know?" Mike said.
"But I've been looking for you," Mike went on. "See, I wanted to say something to you. Something real important."
Malone leaned forward expectantly. At last he was going to get some information--perhaps the information that would break the whole case wide open. He said: "Yes?"
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Mike," Malone said. "Just tell me whatever's on your mind."
He took a deep breath. Malone clenched his fists. Now it was coming. Now he would hear the all-important fact. He waited.
Mike stuck out his tongue and blew the longest, loudest, brassiest and juiciest Bronx cheer that Malone had ever heard.
Then, almost instantly, the room was empty except for Malone himself.
There wasn't any place to hide, and there hadn't been any time to hide in. Malone looked around wildly, but he had no doubts at all.
Mike Fueyo had vanished, utterly and instantaneously. He'd gone out like a light.