Treasure

"Yes?"

"Julius, Dale."

"What's on your mind?"

"Sorry to call on a Sunday," said Nichols. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"Only a family barbecue."

"You must be a diehard. It's only forty-five degrees outside."

"Beats smoking up the garage-"

"Steak and scrambled eggs, that's my favorite."

Schiller caught Nichols's drift on the eggs and switched his phone onto a secure line that entered a computer scramble mode. "Okay, Dale, what have you got?"

"Hala Kamil. The exchange came off smoothly,"

"Her look-alike is at Walter Reed Hospital?" Schiller asked.

"Under tight security to go along with the act:"

"Who doubled for her?"

"Teri Rooney, the actress. She did a superb makeup job. You couldn't tell her apart from the real SecretaryGeneral unless you were nose to nose-As a backup, we arranged a press conference by hospital doctors.

They gave out a story describing her serious condition."

"And Kantil?"

"She remained on the Air Force plane that brought her from Greenland.

After refueling, it flew to Buckley Field near Denver. from there she was flown by helicopter to Breckenridge. "

"The ski resort in Colorado?"

"Yes, she's resting comfortably at Senator Pitts chalet just outside of town. No injuries except a few bruises and a mild case of frostbite."

"How is she taking her forced convalescence?"

"No word yet. Hala was heavily sedated when she was carried from the hospital at Thule. But she'll go along when she learns of our operation to safeguard her arrival at the U.N.

headquarters to address the opening session of the General Assembly. A reliable source close to her says she plans on making a scathing indictment of Yazid, exposing him as a religious charlatan and offering proof of his underground terrorist activities."

"I've read a report from the same source," Schiller admitted.

"Five days until the opening session," said Nichols. "Yazid will pull out all stops to blow her away."

"She's got to be kept on ice until she steps to the podium," Schiller said, deadly serious.

"She's safe," said Nichols. "any word from the Egyptian government on your end?"

"President Hasan is giving us his full cooperation regarding Kantil.

He's scratching every hour he can buy or steal to launch his new economic reforms and replace military leaders with men he can trust.

Hala Kantil is the only thread preventing Yazid from attempting a quick grab for the Egyptian government. If Yazid's assassins stop her before her speech goes out over world news satellite cha

"Relax, Yazid won't get wise to the scam until it's too late," said Nichols confidentially.

"I assume she is under heavy guard?"

"By a top team of Secret Service agents. The President is personally keeping a tight grip on the operation."

Schiller's wife knocked on the door and spoke loudly from the other side. "Steaks are ready, Julius."

"In a minute," he answered.

Nichols picked up on the exchange. "That's all I have for now. I'll let you get back to your steaks."

"I'd feel better if the FBI was lending a hand," said Schiller.

"The White House security staff has considered every contingency. The President thought it best to keep all intelligence within a tight circle."

Schiller paused pensively for a moment. Then he said, "Don't screw it up, Dale."

"Not to worry. I promise, Hala Kamil will arrive at the U.N. building in New York in pristine condition and full of fire."

"She'd better."

"Does the sun set in the west?"

Schiller set down the phone. He had an uneasy feeling. He hoped to God the White House knew what it was doing.

Across the street three men sat in the back of a Ford van with "Capitol Plumbing, 24-hour emergency service" painted on the panels. The cramped interior was crowded with electronic eavesdropping equipment.

Tedium had set in five hours ago. Surveillance is perhaps the most boring job since watching rails rust. One man smoked and the other two didn't and couldn't stand the stale air. All were stiff and cold.

Former counterespionage agents, they had resigned to become independent contractors.

Most retired agents occasionally take on an outside job for the government, but these three were among the very few who respected money more than patriotic duty, and they sold what ever classified information they could ferret out to the highest bidder. '

One of them, a blond, scarecrow type, peered through binoculars out a tinted window at Schiller's house. "He's leaving the study."

The fat man hunched over a recording machine with earphones nodded in agreement. "All talk has ceased."

The , man had a great waxed handlebar mustache, operated a laser parabolic, a sensitive microphone that received voice sounds inside a room from the vibrations on a windowPane, and then magnified them through fiber optics onto a sound cha

"Anything interesting?" asked the ski

The fat man removed the earphones and wiped his sweating forehead. "My share from this gig will pay off my fishing boat."

"I love a marketable commodity."

"This information is worth big bucks to the right party."

"Who've you got in mind?" asked the one with the mustache.

The fat man gri

The President rose from behind his desk and gave a brief nod as CIA Director Martin Brogan was ushered into the Oval Office for the morning intelligence briefing.

The formality of a handshake between the two men had fallen by the wayside soon after their daily meetings began. The slim, urbane Brogan didn't mind in the least. He had narrow, long-fingered violinist's hands, while the tall, two-hundred-pound President had massive paws and a bone-crushing grip.

Brogan waited until the President sat down before settling in a leather chair. Almost as if it were a ritual, the President poured a cup of coffee, ladled in a teaspoon of sugar and graciously handed a large mug to Brogan.

The President brushed a hand over his head of silver hair and fixed Brogan with a limpid pair of gray eyes. "Well, what secrets does the world hold this morning?"

Brogan shrugged and passed a leather-bound file across the desk. "At 0900 Moscow time, Soviet President Georgi Antonov balled his mistress in the backseat of his limousine on the way to the Kremlin."

"I envy his method for starting the day," the President said with a broad smile.

"He also made two calls from his car phone. One to Sergei Komilov, head of the Soviet space program, the other to his son, who works in the commercial section of the embassy in Mexico City. You'll find the transcript of the conversations on pages four and five."

The President opened the file, slipped on a pair of reading glasses and sca

"And how was the rest of Georgi's day?"