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several weeks ago, and she doesn’t expect to hear from him until he returns. I hope nothing happens to him."
    Mr. Swift had barely conveyed this news when the intercom phone buzzed. "There is someone at the gate to see you and your son," said Trent.
    "We’re very busy," answered Tom’s father, somewhat annoyed. "You know when I’m—"
    "I’m sorry, Mr. Swift. But I believe you’ll want see this man right away. He says he’s from the Hemispak Scientific Society!" Across the office, Tom and his father looked at each other in amazement. From Hemispak! Could this be the same man who attacked Roberts? Would he dare take the chance to come here again? "Bring him in!" Mr. Swift told the secretary.
    Before the visitor arrived, Tom pushed a button and the broad workbench, covered with plans and gadgets, slid into the wall out of sight. "We’d better watch him, Dad! Even if he isn’t the same man, he may be a crony of his. I think we’d better keep him between us while he’s in here."
    "Good idea, Tom," said Damon Swift. "And we can also have plant security listening-in by means of your televoc pin."
    "Señor Carlos Rigoledo," Mr. Trent announced presently, ushering the caller in. Tom knew at once that he was not the man who Bud had described. The caller was much older and less agile-looking.
    "May I present my credentials, gentlemen?" the stranger said after the Swifts had introduced themselves. "Although the selection has not yet been released to the press, I am the newly chosen president of the Hemispak Scientific Society." He pulled out a membership card and letters from a pocket to support his claim. The Swifts examined them and felt satisfied.
    "We have heard a great deal about Swift Enterprises," Señor Rigoledo began. "Hemispak hopes to work side by side with you two famous Swifts."
    "If Hemispak is all we’ve heard it is," Mr. Swift replied, "that would be a distinct privilege for us." His suspicions, as well as Tom’s, had been completely dispelled by the stranger’s straightforward manner.
    "We have a great deal of work to do," went on Señor Rigoledo, "but if we can maintain our ideals of cooperative scientific work in behalf of the northern and southern continents of America, the western hemisphere should benefit greatly."
    The trio now relaxed in friendly, companionable conversation.
    "Some day I’d like to visit South America again," Tom remarked. He did not say so, but in his mind he finished: "—and in the Sky Queen would be the perfect way to do it!"
    "That may be sooner than you think," was the surprising answer. "Your reputation, for one so young, is already widely known among our people through the scientific and engineering journals. And that is part of my reason for coming to Swift Enterprises today."
    Tom sat up expectantly.
    "I must now acquaint you with certain facts," Señor Rigoledo remarked, "facts that you may be somewhat familiar with through the news reports. I am the Deputy Minister of the Interior of my country, Montaguaya. Perhaps you know that we have been having trouble with a certain group of our people, the Puyachay. They are an ancient indigenous people who live, for the most part, in one area of the eastern Andes mountains and the jungles beyond, the province of Veranos-Estrella. The Puyachay are a very stubborn people, one might say, and do not care to change their ancient ways. Verano, as they call it, is really a splinter state, run by rebels who broke away from the mother country. They carry out continual guerrilla warfare against us."
    Verano, Señor Rigoledo revealed, was a stumbling block to the work of Hemispak.
    "Why is that?" Tom asked.
    "I will explain. As you know, the United Nations has imposed certain restrictions on the mining and export of fissile radioactive ores—materials used in the production of nuclear reaction. If a nation appears to be engaged in undisclosed mining operations or illegal trafficking, various sanctions are imposed," he went on.