And Heym ben-Hillel, the Israeli quantum and wave-mechanics man, his
heaping dinner plate an affront to the Laws of Moses, his white hair a
fluffy, tangled chaos, laughing at an impassively-delivered joke the
English knight had made.
And Rudolf von Heldenfeld, with a thin-lipped killer's mouth and a
frozen face that never betrayed its owner's thoughts--he was the
specialist in magnetic currents and electromagnetic fields.
And Farida Khouroglu, the Turkish girl whom MacLeod and Karen had found
begging in the streets of Istanbul, ten years ago, and who had grown up
following the fortunes of the MacLeod Team on every continent and in a
score of nations. It was doubtful if she had ever had a day's formal
schooling in her life, but now she was secretary of the Team, with a
grasp of physics that would have shamed many a professor. She had grown
up a beauty, too, with the large dark eyes and jet-black hair and
paper-white skin of her race. She and Kato Sugihara were very much in
love.
A good team; the best physics-research team in a power-mad,
knowledge-hungry world.
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