The man from the past nodded curtly. "You can call me Jack." His voice was cold, flat, with a curious twang of regional accent in it; the vowel-pronunciation was odd, as was to be expected.
Karson eyed the hard-faced stranger. He didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him; he looked tough, uncompromising. "I think you'll do," he said after a moment's study. "You've got the stuff."
"Thanks," Jack said in a wry voice. "Suppose you line the program out for me now. Give me the picture; tell me what I'm here for."
Karson frowned. "You're here to help us, because we're helpless ourselves. Did Dr. Lorence tell you what the characteristics of this world are?"
"He said a few things. You fill me in."
"It's 300 years since we last had a war of any sort. Crime had been extinct 150 years—until Lugert.
"Lugert. I heard of him. Who is he?"
"He's the man you're going to kill for us," Karson said bluntly.
The man named Jack grinned. "Oh? A rub-out job?"
"I think that's the term," said Karson. "Lugert's a throwback—a man out of the past. A man out of your time, suddenly reborn in our era for God knows what reason. He's cold and hard and utterly ruthless. Nothing stops him; we're powerless. The compulsion against violence is too strong in us."