Crawford was wary. "Very little result, actually." Zetterberg chuckled. "As I expected. However, we would appreciate it, doctor, if you and your team would refrain from such activities in the future. You are, after all, hired by the Reunited Nations and owe it all your time and allegiance. We have no desire to see you fritter away this time with religious fanatics and other crackpot groups." "I see," Crawford said. The other laughed cheerfully. "I'm sure you do, Dr. Crawford. A word to the wise." * * * * * They remained silent on the way back to the hotel. In the lobby they ran into Isobel Cunningham. Homer Crawford looked at her thoughtfully. He said, "We've got some thinking to do and some ideas to bat back and forth. I value your opinion and experience, Isobel, could you come up to the suite and sit in?" She tilted her head, looked at him from the side of her eyes. "Something big has happened, hasn't it?" "I suppose so. I don't know. We've got to make some decisions." "Come on Isobel," Abe said. "You can give us the feminine viewpoint and all that jazz." They started for the elevator and Isobel said to Abe, "If you'd just be consistent with that pseudo-beatnik chatter of yours, I wouldn't mind. But half the time you talk like an English lit major when you forget to put on your act." "Man," Abe said to her, "maybe I was wrong inviting you to sit in on this bull session. I can see you're in a bad mood." In the living room of the suite, Isobel took an easy-chair and Abe threw himself full length on his back on a couch. Homer Crawford paced the floor. "Well?" Isobel said. Crawford said abruptly, "Somebody tried to poison me last night. Got into this room somehow and put cyanide in a bottle of cognac Abe and I were drinking out of earlier in the evening." Isobel stared at him. Her eyes went from him to Abe and back. "But ... but, why?" Crawford ran his hand back over his wiry hair in puzzlement. "I ... I don't know. That's what's driving me batty. I can't figure out why anybody would want to kill me." "I can," Abe said bluntly. "And that interview we just had with Sven Zetterberg just bears me out." "Zetterberg," Isobel said, surprised. "Is he in Africa?" Crawford nodded to her question but his eyes were on Abe. Abe put his hands behind his head and said to the ceiling, "Zetterberg just gave Homer's team the assignment of bringing in El Hassan." "El Hassan? But you boys told us all in Timbuktu that there was no El Hassan. You invented him and then the rest of us, more or less spontaneously, though unknowingly, took up the falsification and spread your work." "That's right," Crawford said, still looking at Abe. "But didn't you tell Sven Zetterberg?" Isobel demanded. "He's too big a man to play jokes upon." "No, I didn't and I'm not sure I know why." "I know why," Abe said. He sat up suddenly and swung his feet around and to the floor. The other two watched him, both frowning.