and
Clifford Jackson, up from Timbuktu's Niger River port of Kabara. They
met in the former great market square, bordered on two sides by the one
time French Administration buildings.

Isobel reacted first. "Abe!" she yelled, pointing accusingly at him.

Abe Baker pretended to cringe, then reacted. "Isobel! Somebody _told_ me
you were over here!"

She ran over the heavy sand, which drifted through the streets, to the
hovercraft in which he had just pulled up. He popped out to meet her,
grinning widely.

"Why didn't you look me up?" she said accusingly, presenting a cheek to
be kissed.

"In Africa, man?" he laughed. "Kinda big, Africa. Like, I didn't know if
you were in the Sahara, or maybe down in Angola, or wherever."

She frowned. "Heaven forbid."

Abe turned to the others of his team who had crowded up behind him. It
had been a long time since any of them had seen other than native women.

"Isobel," he said, "I hate to do this, but let me introduce you to Homer
Crawford, my immediate boss and slave driver, late of the University of
Michigan where he must've found out where the body was--they gave him a
doctorate. Then here's Elmer Allen, late of Jamaica--British West
Indies, not Long Island--all he's got is a master's, also in sociology.
And this is Kenneth Ballalou, hails from San Francisco, I don't think
Kenny ever went to school, but he seems to speak every language ever."
Abe turned to his final companion. "And this is our sole _real_ African,
Bey-ag-Akhamouk, of Tuareg blood, so beware, they don't call the Tuareg
the Apaches of the Sahara for nothing."

Bey pretended to wince as he held out his hand. "Since Abe seems to be
an education snob, I might as well mention the University of Minnesota
and my Political Science."

Jake Armstrong and Cliff Jackson had come up behind Isobel, and were now
introduced in turn. The older man said, "A Tuareg in a Reunited Nations
team? Not that it makes any difference to me, but I thought there was
some sort of policy."

"I was taken to the States when I was three," Bey said. "I'm an American
citizen."

Isobel was chattering, in animation, with Abe Baker. It developed they'd
both been reporters on the school paper at Columbia. At least, they'd
both started as reporters, Isobel had wound up editor.

Since their introduction, Homer Crawford had been vaguely frowning at
her. Now he said, "I've been trying to place where I'd seen you before.
Now I know. Some photogr