The president’s hand came down on his desk with a resounding smack. “This ain’t fit for humor.”

“Then you shouldn’t tempt me to it. Neither of you should, and both of you have.” Gideon leaned back in his chair. “You’ll be listening in on telephone calls. Data mining? Isn’t that what you call it? You’d pick it up. You’re certainly tapping the lines of those laboratories or whatever, as well as the telephones of everyone privy to sensitive information. If you prattle about cell phones now, I shall go home. I’m beginning to miss my little apartments already.”

John murmured, “Just assume that we’re already doing everything every ordinary person would think of. Because we are. Assume, too, that it’s not working. If it were, we wouldn’t have called you. We don’t want you to guess what he’s doing. Any such guesses would be pure fantasy. Wild guesses are of no use. We’ve made plenty ourselves, and they haven’t helped.”

The president grinned. “John’s guesses, mostly. Wild as blue quail, every one of ’em. Thought readin’. Talkin’ to ghosts.”

“Neither are impossible.” Gideon sounded pensive. “I have done both in the past, and will doubtless do both in the future. One or both may well explain Ambassador Reis’s success, although I doubt it.”

John began to say something; the president silenced him with a gesture. “Didn’t either one of us call him that.”

Gideon made a small, disgusted sound. “So now you’re wondering whether I’ve been reading your mind. I haven’t been, but you’ll have to take my word for that; I can’t prove it. John wanted to know whether I knew that major contributors are often rewarded with ambassadorships. He also told me that this man Reis had contributed liberally to an earlier president. The inference was obvious. My father was succeeded by a man named Klauser, but Klauser will have been replaced years ago. I surmise that Reis was ambassador to Woldercan during the Ingstrup administration. Is that correct?”