“To the Wolders,” John said.

“There were older sciences,” Gideon murmured, “to which other intelligent races were known. So I’ve heard. But, yes. He was ambassador to Woldercan, as you say. I was born there. No doubt you know.”

“We do. That was one of the reasons I suggested the president consult you. It wasn’t the chief reason but it figured in our thinking.”

“Perhaps you might like to tell me the chief reason.” Gideon swept the remaining pictures toward him as he spoke.

“Your reputation. You specialize in solving problems every other expert declares are impossible or outside his area. You’re expensive, we realize—”

“Not as expensive as government.” Gideon was looking at the pictures as he spoke, glancing at each in turn, then laying it facedown on the president’s desk, his hands sure and swift.

John laughed. “You’ve got us there. Of course not. But expensive. You’d have the entire cooperation of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“You can commit them?”

“Yes. You would be an adjunct to our investigation.”

“How flattering.” Gideon’s gleam returned. “If I were to—”

The president interrupted. “Your dad was a patriot. I didn’t know him personally, but I’ve talked to some that did. He served this country ably as a private citizen an’ a diplomat. None of the people I talked to said you were much like him, but I’ve found out that every man in the world gits certain traits from his folks. As I told John, your not resemblin’ your father on the surface tells me you’ll be like him down deeper.”

Nodding, Gideon swept the photographs into a neat stack and pushed the stack away.

“We can’t give you a lot of money,” John said, “but we have other ways of rewarding people who help us. You would be recommended to friends of the president’s who might make use of you. If you’d enjoy a professorship at one of our leading universities . . .”