"They are—were, I guess, since you haven't heard of them—little animals in Norway, and every few years they'd swarm to the coast and swim out to sea until they drowned. I figure on putting some lemming urge into the population."
"How?"
"I'll save that till I get the right signatures on the deal."
The hawk-faced man said, "I'd like to work with you on it, Barlow. My name's Ryan-Ngana." He put out his hand.
Barlow looked closely at the hand, then at the man's face. "Ryan what?"
"Ngana."
"That sounds like an African name."
"It is. My mother's father was a Watusi."
Barlow didn't take the hand. "I thought you looked pretty dark. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't think I'd be at my best working with you. There must be somebody else just as well qualified, I'm sure."