Gideon pursed his lips. “The news I’ve heard and read—I confess I hear and read very little—has given me the impression that Woldercan is behind us.”

“Technologically?” John’s shoulders rose and fell. “We like to think so, but it’s hard to say.”

“Your opinion? I was still a child, you understand, when my family left.”

“Behind us in some areas and ahead in others. Ahead in biology, for example, but behind in physics. Behind us in military science—if it may be so called—but ahead in sociology. There are a number of areas I wouldn’t want to guess about.”

“Optics?” Gideon did not smile, but his voice and eyes hinted at amusement.

“That’s one of them.”

“Then tell me this, please. Where is Reis now?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“In Washington? Off in the desert at one of your secret sites?”

“I don’t know, Dr. Chase, and I know of no one in government who does.”

“Can you at least guess at the state? Nevada? Utah? Could he be aboard a hopper going back to Woldercan?”

“I told you. I don’t know.”

The president said, “We want you to find out how he does it an’ make him stop doin’ it. That’s what it comes down to. You’ve heard what we’re offerin’. What do you say?”

“That there is a great deal you’re not telling me. You talked about hunting a wily buck, knowing his habits. Surely you’ve had men, able agents, studying Reis.”

“Will you do it?” The president looked grim. “Do what we want?”

“More the point,” John added, “can you do it? In your own opinion.”

Gideon looked down at his own hands—long, dexterous hands, whose slender, ringless fingers might have belonged to a musician. “I’ll answer you first. What’s your last name, by the way?”