"Might be worth a try. I know a good man at Penn State University who's a triple-A researcher. He can have my people digging the archives here and in Europe by this time tomorrow."
"Good, give him a crack at it."
"Now that the news media and Hala have spread the word," said the Senator, "half the governments and most of the fortune hunters of the world will be on the hunt for the Library collection."
"I considered that probability going in," the President said.
"But propping up President Hasan's government takes top priority. If we make the discovery first and then pretend to back down after Hasan makes a dramatic show of demanding the artifacts be returned to Egypt, his domestic popularity will take a big jump, and make him a hero in the eyes of the Egyptian people."
"While stalling off the threat of a takeover by Yazid and his followers," added the Senator. "The only problem is Yazid himself. The man is extremely unpredictable. Our best Middle East experts can't read him. He's liable to pull a rabbit out of the hat and steal the scene."
The President looked at him steadily. "I see no problem in cutting him out of the limelight when the artifacts are turned over to President Hasan."
"I'm on your side, Mr. President, but it's dangerous to underestimate Yazid."
"He's far from perfect."
"Yes, but unlike the Ayatollah Khomeini, Akhmad Yazid is a brilliant intellect. He's what the advertising agencies call a good concept man."
"In political areas perhaps, but hardly in assassinations."
The Senator shrugged and ssighed knowingly. "His plans were, no doubt, screwed up by his henchmen. As President, you know better than anyone how easily an aide or adviser can botch a simple project."
The President smiled back without humor. He leaned back in his chair and toyed with a pen. "We know damned little about Yazid, where he came from, what makes him tick."
"He claims to have spent the first thirty years of his life wandering the Sinai desert talking to Allah."
"So he's lifted a page from Jesus Christ. What else do we have on him?"
"You might ask Dale Nichols," answered the Senator. "I understand he's working with the CIA on building a biographical and psychological profile."
"Let's see if they've come up with anything." The President pressed a button on his intercom. "Dale, can you come in for a minute?"
"Be right there," came Nichols's voice over the speaker.
Neither of the men in the Oval Office spoke during the fifteen seconds Nichols took to walk from his office. He knocked, then opened the door and stepped in.
"We were discussing Akhmad Yazid," the President informed him. "Have Brogan's people turned up any data on his background?"
"I talked to Martin only an hour ago," replied Nichols. "He said his analysts should have a file put together in another day or two."
"I want to see it the minute it's completed," said the President.
"Not to change the subject," said Senator Pitt, "but shouldn't someone brief President Hasan on what we've got in mind in case the Library collection can be pinpointed in the next few weeks?"
The President nodded. "Definitely." He stared directly at the Senator.
"Think you could sneak off for forty-eight hours and do the honors, George?"
"You want me to meet with Hasan in Uruguay." It was more a statement than question.
"Do you mind?"
"This is really a matter for Doug Oates over at the State Department. He and Joe Arnold from Treasury are already in Kingston holding preliminary meetings with foreign economic leaders. Do you think it wise to go behind his back?"
"Ordinarily, no. But you're better informed on the search project.
You've also met with President Hasan on four different occasions, and you're close to Hala Kamil. Simply put, you're the best man for the job."
The Senator lifted his hands in resignation. "No heavy votes coming up in the Senate. My staff can cover for me. if you arrange for a government plane, I can leave here early Tuesday and arrive the following afternoon."
"Thank you, George, you're a good scout." The President paused, and then sprang the trap. "There is one other thing."
"There always is." The Senator sighed.
"I'd like you to inform President Hasan 'm private, under the strictest secrecy, that I will fully cooperate with him in the event he decides to remove Yazid."
The Senator's voice was shocked. "Since when does the White House deal in political assassination? I implore you, Mr. President, do not lower your office into the slime with Yazid and other terrorists."
"If someone had had the foresight to take Khomeini for a ride twelve years ago, the Middle East would be a far more peaceful place."
"King George might have said the same about George Washington and the colonies in 1778."
"Come now, George, we could spend all day making comparisons. The final decision is up to Hasan. He has to give the go-ahead."
"A bad idea," saidd the Senator resolutely. "I have grave doubts about such an offer. If this leaked out it could shatter your Presidency."
"I respect your advice and honesty. That's why you're the only man I can trust to deliver the message."
The Senator caved in. "I'll do as you ask and gladly brief Hasan on the Library proposal, but don't expect me to sell him on Yazid's murder even if it's deserved."
"I'll see that Hasan's staff is alerted to your arrival," said Nichols, stepping in diplomatically.
The President rose from behind his desk, signaling the end of the conference. He shook hands with the Senator.
"I'm grateful, old friend. I'll look forward to your report Wednesday afternoon. We'll have an early supper together."
"See you then, Mr. President."
"Have a good flight."
As Senator Pitt left the Oval Office he had a dire sense that the President might very well be dining alone Wednesday evening.
The Lady Flamborough slipped smoothly into the tiny harbor of Punta del Este just minutes before the sun fell over the western interior of the mainland. A soft breeze drifted in from the south that barely fluttered the Union Jack on her stern.
She was a beautiful cruise ship, trim and handsomely designed, with a streamlined superstructure. She broke with the traditional British black hull and more common white on her upper works. She was painted entirely in a soft slate blue with a sharply raked funnel banded in royal purple and burgundy.
One of the new breed of sleek, small cruise ships, the Lady Flamborough looked more like a posh motor yacht. Her trim 101-meter-long hull contained the most sumptuous luxuries afloat. With only fifty large suites, she carried just one hundred passengers, who were catered to by an equal number of crew members.
On this voyage, however, from her home port in San Juan, Puerto Rico, she sailed without passengers.
"Two degrees port," said the dark-skinned pilot.
"Two degrees port," acknowledged the helmsman.
The pilot stood in loose khaki shirt and shorts and kept a calculating eye on the finger of land that sheltered the bay until it slipped behind the Lady Flamborough's stern.
"Begin coming around to starboard and hold steady at zero eight zero."
The helmsman dutifully repeated the command and the ship very slowly swung on its new course.
The harbor was crowded with yachts and other cruise ships riving flocks of colorful pointed and swallowtail pennants. Some vessels were chartered as floating hotels for the economic conference, others were filled with their usual complement of vacationing passengers.
Half a kilometer from the mooring site the pilot ordered the engines on
"dead stop." The luxurious ship slipped through the calm water on her momentum, eating up the distance and gradually easing to a halt.
Satisfied, the pilot spoke into a portable transmitter. "We're in position. Slow aft and drop the hook."