Free Flash Point by James W. Huston Page B

than in a conference room with a bunch of eggheads. It showed. “Not right now.”
    One of the officers to Ricketts’s right spoke quietly. “What’s this about hashish?”
    “Nothing about hashish. It’s what they were called, the Hashasheen. It has nothing to do with the drug — “ Sami answered, but was interrupted again.
    “Then why were they called that?”
    “It’s a mystery. Some think it is because they did use hashish. But the best explanation I’ve found is that Hashasheen is close to the Arabic word for guardian. These guys consider themselves not only the guardians of Islam, but the guardians of the Middle East, from invaders and infidels.”
    “They call themselves that?”
    “Yes. But Hashasheen sounds like another word in English and other languages,” Sami said. “Assassin. It’s where the word assassin comes from. These guys invented assassination as a political tool.”
    The room was quiet as the task force members pondered what he had said.
    “We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Kinkaid declared. He looked at Ricketts. “You getting any HUMINT?” Human Intelligence, information from people. Spies.
    Ricketts sat silently before answering. “A little. Nothing useful yet.”
    “Keep working it. Need any help?”
    Ricketts shook his head.
     
     
    Vialli stood in front of the church of San Marco in Venice. He looked at his watch. He had told Irit in his e-mail that he would be there at 11 a.m.; but she hadn’t replied. It was now 9:30; the large square was quiet. A few people wandered around, vendors pushed their carts, and people walked to work at the shops around the square, which was nearly empty. It was cold and damp. Pulling up the collar of his brown leather jacket, he exhaled and watched his breath. It was the same color as the sky and the river to his left.
    “Hi, Tony.”
    Vialli spun around at the sound of Irit’s voice. “Irit!” he said, surprised. “How did you sneak up on me?” He reached for her, not sure what to do. He gave her a side hug.
    She rose on her toes and kissed him softly on his cheek. “As soon as I came into the square I saw this American staring at the church with his hands in his pockets. Who else could it be?” She smiled.
    “I’m conspicuous?” he asked, feigning injury.
    “You may look Italian, but you look more American.”
    “What can I say?” he said. “Look at this church. It’s made out of tile.”
    “It’s not made of tile, it’s just that the outside is tiled.”
    “That’s what I meant.” He looked down at her. “I asked Sean to come along this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
    “Sure. He’s very nice. By the way, I have to go back to Trento by this afternoon.” She saw his disappointment as soon as she had said it. “I’m sorry. I just have to get back.”
    “Why?”
    “I just have to be back.”
    “No problem.” He studied her face, reacquainting himself with her. She was even prettier than he had remembered, but not as tall. “I kind of wanted to go on a gondola ride, if it isn’t too cold.”
    “Okay,” she said. “We can sit close together to stay warm.”
    “Here he comes,” he said, running down the four steps to wave at Sean from across the square. Irit followed behind him.
    Woods saw them and walked down the middle of the colorful square. “Hey,” Woods said to them. “Sorry I made you late.”
    “Actually, you’re early,” Vialli replied.
    “Hello,” Irit added.
    “So what’s the plan?” Woods asked.
    “Do the gondola thing.”
    “Cool. Where do you want to go?”
    “Just drive around. See the buildings, you know.” Tony looked at the sky. “I just wish it would clear up. It’s kind of cold.”
    “It’s okay. Let’s do it. Then we can get a cappuccino or something.”
    They walked back across the square toward the canal that ran parallel to the face of San Marco. Vialli said, “I spotted some gondola guys over here.”
    They all followed. The sky was breaking up and blue was