He would not fail, he was sure of it. Because even though he had no proof, he knew that he was right.

"I have no proof," said Hunahpu, "but I know that I'm right."

The woman on the other end of the line sounded young. Too young to be influential, surely, and yet she was the only one who had answered his message, and so he would have to speak to her as if she mattered because what other choice did he have?

"How do you know you're right without evidence?" she asked mildly.

"I didn't say I have no evidence. Just that there can never be proof of what would have happened."

"Fair enough," she answered.

"All I ask is a chance to present my evidence to Kemal."

"I can't guarantee you that," she said. "But you can come to Juba and present your evidence to me."

Come to Juba! As if he had an unlimited budget for travel, he who was on the verge of being dismissed from Pastwatch altogether. "I'm afraid that such a journey would be beyond my means," he said.

"Of course we'll pay for your travel," she said, "and you can stay here as our guest."

That startled him. How could someone so young have authority to promise him that? "Who did you say you were?"

"Diko," she said.

Now he remembered the name; why hadn't he made the connection in the first place? Though it was Kemal's project to which he was determined to contribute, it was not Kemal who had found the Intervention. "Are you the Diko who--"

"Yes," she said.

"Have you read my papers? The ones I've been posting and--"

"And which no one has paid the slightest attention to? Yes."

"And do you believe me?"

"I have questions for you," she said.

"And if you're satisfied with my answers?"

"Then I'll be very surprised," she said. "Everyone knows that the Aztec Empire was on the verge of collapse when Cortes arrived in the 1520s. Everyone also knows that there was no possibility of Mesoamerican technology rivaling European technology in any way. Your speculations about a Mesoamerican conquest of Europe are irresponsible and absurd."

"And yet you called me."

"I believe in leaving no stone unturned. You're a stone that nobody's turned yet, and so ..."

"You're turning me."

"Will you come?"

"Yes," he said. A faint hope was better than no response at all.

"Send copies of all pertinent files beforehand, so I can look them over on my own computer."

"Most of them are already in the Pastwatch system," he said.

"Then send me your bibliography. When can you come? I need to request a leave of absence on your behalf so you can consult with us."

"You can do that?"

"I can request it," she said.

"Tomorrow," he said.

"I can't read everything by tomorrow. Next week. Tuesday. But send me all the files and lists I need immediately."

"And you'll request my leave of absence ... when I send the files?"

"No, I'll request it in the next fifteen minutes. Nice talking to you. I hope you aren't a crackpot."

"I'm not," he said. "Nice talking to you, too."

She broke the connection.

An hour later, his supervisor came to see him. "What have you been doing?" she demanded.

"What I've always been doing," he answered.

"I was in the middle of writing a recommendation that you be steered to another line of work," she said. "Then this comes in. A request from the Columbus project for your presence next week. Will I grant you a paid leave of absence."

"It would be cheaper for you to fire me, " he said, "but it'll be harder for me to help them in Juba if I lose my access to the Pastwatch computer system."

She looked at him with thinly veiled consternation. "Are you telling me that you aren't a crazy, self-willed, time-wasting, donkey-headed fool after all?"

"No guarantees," he said. "That may end up being the list that everybody agrees to."

"No doubt," she said. "But you've got your leave, and you can stay with us until it's over."

"I hope it turns out to be worth the cost," he said.

"It will," she said. "Your salary during this leave is coming out of their budget." She grinned at him. "I actually do like you, you know," she pointed out. "I just don't think you've caught the vision of what Pastwatch is all about."

"I haven't," said Hanahpu. "I want to change the vision."

"Good luck. If you turn out to be a genius after all, remember that I never once for a moment believed in you."

"Don't worry," he said, smiling. "I'll never forget that."

Diko met Hunahpu at the station in Juba. He was easy to recognize, since he was small with light brown skin and Mayan features. He seemed placid, standing calmly on the platform, looking slowly across the crowd from side to side. Diko was surprised at how young he looked, though she was aware that the smooth-skinned Indies often seemed young to eyes accustomed to the look of other races. And, especially for one so young-looking, it was also surprising that there was no hint of tension in the man. He might have come here a thousand times before. He might be surveying an old familiar sight, to see how it had changed, or not changed, in the years since he had been away. Who could guess, looking at him, that his career was on the line, that he had never traveled farther than Mexico City in his life, that he was about to make a presentation that might change the course of history? Diko envied him the inner peace that allowed him to deal with life so ... so steadily.

She went to him. He looked at her, his face betraying not even a flicker of expectation or relief, though he must have recognized her, must have looked up her picture in the Pastwatch roster before he came.

"I'm Diko," she said, extending both hands. He clasped them briefly.

"I'm Hunahpu," he said. "It was kind of you to greet me."

"We have no street signs," she said, "and I'm a better driver than the taxis. Well, maybe not, but I charge less."

He didn't smile. A cold fish, she thought. "Have you any bags?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Just this." He shrugged to indicate the small shoulder bag. Could it possibly carry so much as a change of clothes? But then, he was traveling from one tropical climate to another, and he wouldn't need a shaving kit -- beardlessness was part of what made Indie men seem younger than their years -- and as for papers, those would all have been transmitted electronically. Most people, though, brought much more than this when they traveled. Perhaps because they were insecure, and needed to surround themselves with familiar things, or to feel that they had many choices to make each day when they dressed, so they didn't have to be so frightened or feel so powerless. Obviously that was not Hunahpu's problem. He apparently never felt fear at all, or perhaps never regarded himself as a stranger. How remarkable it would be, thought Diko, to feel at home in any place. I wish I had that gift. Quite to her surprise, she found herself admiring him even as she felt put off by his coldness.

The ride to the hotel was wordless. He offered no comment on the accommodation. "Well," she said, "I assume you'll want to rest in order to overcome jet lag. The best advice is to sleep for three hours or so, and then get up and eat immediately."

"I won't have jet lag, " he said. "I slept on the plane. And on the train."

He slept? On the way to the most important interview of his life?

"Well, then, you'll want to eat."

"I ate on the train," he said.

"Well, then," she said. "How long will you need before we start?"

"I can start now," he said. He took off his shoulder bag and laid it on the bed. There was an economy of movement in the way he did it. He neither tossed it carelessly nor placed it carefully.