Burke stared at him in disbelief. "The waste that comes from nuclear power plants?"
"Yes. It would give them the ability to build weapons quickly, and on a sustained basis. We're also providing technology. The project was to begin immediately, with the highest priority. The secrecy surrounding it, of course, is absolute."
Burke's eyes widened at the gravity of what he had just heard.
Nuclear weapons for South Korea? Why would they want such weapons? They had America's nuclear arsenal behind them. The bombing death of North Korea's dictatorial leadership should eliminate the threat from that quarter. Initially, the President had been reluctant to completely withdraw U.S. forces from the peninsula, but the decimation in Pyongyang would likely convince him there was no longer any excuse for keeping American troops there.
"Do you think Seoul will continue to pursue this after what happened in Pyongyang last night?"
"Absolutely," Shallit said. "I called home just before coming here and learned that a Korean official concerned with nuclear affairs, a man who came to Jerusalem when the agreement was drawn up, is due back this week. Apparently things are moving on a fast track."
"Damn! We sure don't need any more card carrying members of the Nuclear Club. We've had more than enough trouble with that in the Middle East." Burke shook his head in dismay. How could responsible leaders act so blindly, trading a questionable gain in their own security for an act that could threaten the rest of the world?
"Agreed," said Shallit. "I've been wrestling with my conscience ever since I heard about this. I knew I had to do something to try and stop it. On the other hand, if it were to become publicly known, it could have very dire consequences for my own country. We have more than our share of problems as it is. News of something like this could make us an international pariah."
"So you decided to get word to Kingsley Marshall and let him juggle the balls."
Shallit glanced down as he rubbed his fingers together slowly, almost as if washing his hands of the affair. Then he looked back at Burke. "I thought I recognized you at the airport the other day. But I didn't make up my mind about this until I saw you over at the Hilton. Call me a follower of the prophets. I took it as a sign. If the Lord hadn't meant for me to tell you, He wouldn't have kept parading you in front of my eyes. I'm sure I don't need to say this, but if so much as a hint of what I'm doing were to get back to Israel, my wife would be an instant candidate for widowhood."
Burke nodded. "Don't worry. We'll insist our source be protected above all else. I can't predict what the U.S. Government will do with this information, but I think it safe to say it will be treated with the utmost discretion."
That was what he said, and that was what he hoped. But, privately, he was not all that certain. Some of the things that some of the poeple in the government had been known to do with highly sensitive information made him wonder. In this case, however, he would take it upon himself to insist in the strongest terms that Ben Shallit's neck not be put on the block. The information he shared was of such a critical nature it sent a shiver down Burke's spine. It was bad enough to contemplate countries like India and Pakistan possessing "the bomb." But a highly-aggressive, technologically advanced nation like South Korea, traditionally ruled by a dictatorial military. It would be extremely unsettling, to say the least.
Back in their hotel room, Burke watched his wife undress slowly. They had skipped further plans for the evening and returned to the Duna-Intercontinental when Burke realized that Lori was wilting fast. When she reached back with some effort to unhook her bra, he stepped over to help.
"May I be of service, madame?" he said, hoping a roguish note would lighten her mood.
He kissed the back of her neck as she tossed the bra onto the bed, then reached his arms around to cup her warm, firm breasts in his hands.
"Behave yourself," she said. "I'm a married woman. And great with child to boot."
"Great with my children," he said.
She removed his hands and turned slowly to glare at him. "I thought we settled this chauvinist thing a long time ago. You mean great with our children."
"I stand corrected," he said, rolling his eyes upward. That had been a sore spot early in their relationship, a result of the generation gap that occasionally bedeviled them. He looked into her tired eyes. "I'd say right now you were one worn-out, liberated woman with child. I believe this day's been a bit too much for you."
She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's been an exciting and trying two days. I doubt that I'll be ready for anything like it for a good while." Then she pushed herself back and looked at Burke with a new concern. "Do you want me to check on changing our reservations, so you can get back to Washington?"
"Don't be silly," he said, smiling. "You've waited too long for this trip. I'm not going to spoil it for you now."
"But shouldn't you—"
"I'll check in the morning and see if I can get a flight to Berlin. I can go to our office there and call Nate on the scrambler. He can pass the word on to the Director. I'm sure the White House will have to wrestle with this one."
Nate Highsmith was the president of Worldwide Communications Consultants. After becoming a billionaire by age thirty in the rarefied atmosphere of Silicon Valley, he set up a foundation that studied public policy issues. Intrigued by an inside look at the intelligence establishment, he became a close friend of the CIA Director. That led to Kingsley Marshall's recommendation to the President that Highsmith head a company that would provide international public relations services while ferreting out information the CIA had difficulty obtaining.
Lori plopped down in a chair near the bed. "Good thinking. I'm afraid my tired old brain is past rational consideration for one night."
"Why don't you just lounge around and rest tomorrow. Then we'll take your gift to Grandma Szabo, and you can give me the grand tour of Budapest."
He looked forward to the remainder of their vacation and saw no need to shorten it. The word he had to relay to Washington was deeply disturbing, but once he passed it on, his responsibility was ended. This was something that would have to be dealt with at the highest levels of the White House and Langley. It wouldn't be of official concern to Worldwide Communications Consultants. Or so he thought.
Chapter 6
It was around eleven when the flight from Frankfurt settled onto the runway at Berlin-Tegel, the airport nearest the downtown area where the Worldwide offices were located. It would be a more convenient location for Erich Detring, the Berlin manager, to meet him.
"I understood you were on vacation in Hungary," said Detring with a sidelong glance as he swung his shiny blue Mercedes onto the Stadtautobahn. His studious look, short beard and horn-rimmed glasses made him appear more like a professor than a PR type.
Burke squirmed about within the limited confines of the seat belt and shoulder harness. He rarely budged from an airline seat except on a very long flight, and he'd been strapped in about enough for one morning. "I am on vacation, Erich. I just left my bride in Budapest. This is a long-delayed honeymoon. Nate hooked me for this job right after we were married."
Detring nodded his understanding. "Know all about that. I got shipped out the day after Jane and I were married. How is Lori? She should be pretty thoroughly pregnant by now. What is it, five months?"
"Six. I left her lounging in bed after a room service breakfast."
"So what brings you to Berlin? Must be something hot."