It had begun—if there is ever a beginning—in Dakar, in the offices of Sven Zetterberg, the Swedish head of the Sahara Division of the African Development Project of the Reunited Nations.

Homer Crawford, head of a five-man troubleshooting team, had reported for orders. In one hand he held them, when he was ushered into the other’s presence.

Zetterberg shook hands abruptly and said, “Sit down, Dr. Crawford.”

Homer Crawford looked at the secretary who had ushered him in.

Zetterberg said, scowling, “What’s the matter?”

“I think I have something to be discussed privately.”

The secretary shrugged and turned and left.

Zetterberg, still scowling, resumed his own place behind the desk and said, “Claud Hansen is a trusted Reunited Nations man. What could possibly be so secret?”

Homer indicated the orders he held. “This assignment. It takes some consideration.”

Sven Zetterberg was not a patient man. He said, in irritation, “It should be perfectly clear. This El Hassan we’ve been hearing so much about. This mystery man come out of the desert attempting to unify all North Africa. We want to talk to him.”

“Why?” Crawford said.

“Confound it,” Zetterberg snapped. “I thought we’d gone into this yesterday. In spite of the complaints that come into this office in regard to your cavalier tactics in carrying out your assignments, you and your team are our most competent operatives. So we’ve given you the assignment of finding El Hassan.”

“I mean, why do you want to talk to him?”