Free Flashpoint by Dan J. Marlowe

that is not the point. You misjudge the situation, Mr. Erikson. The Palestinians will use this money as working capital to finance a more insidious operation. They will purchase drugs smuggled into your country and dispose of them right here in Harlem at a tremendous profit. It is happening every day, and I can only conclude that your government is blind to the fact or is deliberately averting its eyes from it, for whatever reasons I cannot understand. Why do you refuse to act when these facts are so plain?"
        "I can understand your concern, but I'm one man with limited resources," Erikson said. I judged that his tone was intended to be placating. "And my task is primarily investigative. If the evidence warrants it, of course, I can call upon other agencies who will be happy to cooperate. In the meantime I must remind you that the U.S. government cannot willfully jeopardize delicate relationships with other major world powers who have an interest in the Middle East."
        Even on the monitor screen I could see the sneer on the face of the younger man. "If you are as concerned as you say, why don't you put a stop to the recruiting of Americans by fedayeen?" The harsh question was bulleted directly at Erikson.
        "Quiet, Ravish," Bergman said curtly. He made a gesture of apology to Erikson. "Like many of our young warriors who fought so well in the Six-Day War, Ravish is impetuous. I apologize for his outburst."
        "You have proof of the recruiting of Americans by the fedayeen?" Erikson asked Ravish.
        "We have," Ravish snapped. "There are seven documented cases in which discharged members of the United States Army, principally Green Beret officers, men qualified as instructors in infiltration and sabotage techniques, have become mercenaries for the fedayeen. All are in training camps in Syria."
        "I will ask for details later," Erikson said.
        "It's of small importance, actually," Bergman said mildly. "Such a meager effort in view of our own strength is like a man who throws a handful of sand at the desert. Since we pursue this line of thought, however, what about Dr. Emil Shariyk, who unaccountably is no longer at his post with the Physical Sciences Research Group at Los Alamos? It should be beneficial to both of us to verify the present whereabouts of Dr. Shariyk."
        "Shariyk?" Erikson repeated.
        "Let's be honest with each other, Mr. Erikson," Bergman said stiffly.
        "My understanding is that Dr. Shariyk is on a sabbatical with the Atomic Science Foundation in Paris, Mr. Bergman."
        "I know that is your government's official position." Icicles dripped from every syllable. "But it is not a true position. Your FBI has secretly requested Interpol assistance in locating Dr. Shariyk, whom we strongly suspect is working in a guarded laboratory in a country sympathetic to the Palestinian renegades."
        "Can you substantiate your reasoning?"
        "There is no need!" It was an explosive roar from the younger man, Ravish. "Your government knows it as well as we do! We waste time with this eternal fencing! I demand-"
        "We ask again that your government take immediate steps to put a stop to the activities of the terrorists operating in your country," Bergman interrupted his companion. "You seem to take too lightly their battle cry 'Death to All Jews!'."
        "Recognizing that I'm one man with limited prerogatives," Erikson wedged into the verbal assault, "what is it that you'd have me do?"
        "Eliminate the terrorists," Ravish said quickly before Bergman could reply. "By any means. Or we will be forced to take matters into our own hands."
        "We can maintain this informal liaison only as long as it promises fruitful results," Bergman added.
        "Please don't think that we-" Erikson stopped speaking. Ravish reached into a jacket pocket and drew out a small leather case about the size of a cigarette pack. He thumbed a switch,