"Right." Malone remembered just in time not to nod his head.
"How about a description, buddy?" the big cop said.
"Didn't see him," Malone said. He let go of the post with one hand, keeping a precarious grip with the other. He stared at his watch. The hands danced back and forth, but he focused on them after a while. It was 1:05. "Happened just--a few minutes ago," he said. "Maybe you can catch him."
The big cop said: "Nobody around here. The place is deserted--except for you, buddy." He paused and then added: "Let's see some identification, huh? Or did he take your wallet?"
Malone thought about getting the wallet, and decided against it. The motions required would be a little tricky, and he wasn't sure he could manage them without letting go of the post entirely. At last he decided to let the cop get his wallet. "Inside coat pocket," he said.
The other policeman blinked and looked up. His face was a studied blank. "Hey, buddy," he said. "You know you got blood on your head?"
The big cop said: "Sam's right. You're bleeding, mister."
"I thought maybe my skull was going to explode from high blood pressure," Malone said. It was beginning to be a little easier to talk. "But as long as there's a slow leak, I guess I'm out of danger."
"Get his wallet," the smaller cop--Sam--said. "I'll watch him."
A hand went into Malone's jacket pocket. It tickled a little bit, but Malone didn't think of objecting. Naturally enough, the hand and Malone's wallet did not make an instant connection. When the hand touched the bulky object strapped near Malone's armpit it stopped, frozen, and then cautiously snaked the object out.
Bill looked up with the object in his hand. He seemed a little dazed. "It's a gun," he said.
"The guy's heeled!" Sam said. "Watch him! Don't let him get away!"
Malone considered getting away, and decided that he couldn't move. "It's O.K.," he said.
"O.K., hell," Sam said. "It's a .44 Magnum. What are you doing with a gun, Mac?" He was no longer polite and friendly. "Why you carrying a gun?" he said.
"I'm not carrying it," Malone said tiredly. "Bill is. Your pal."
Bill backed away from Malone, putting the Magnum in his pocket and keeping the FBI agent covered with his own Police Positive. At the same time, he fished out the personal radio every patrolman carried in his uniform, and began calling for a prowl car in a low, somewhat nervous voice.