man of influence."
"Certain advice---"
"Contrary to what you may believe, Mr. Hopkins, it is not necessary to indulge in endless Arabic circumlocutions in dealing with an Arab, especially since, for the most part, Americans lack the subtlety to make it interesting. This office is not bugged. You are not bugged. Tell me what you want."
"I want a letter delivered to the head of the intelligence section of Al Fatah."
"And who might that be?"
"I don't know. You can find out. I am told you can do nearly anything in Beirut. The letter will be sealed in several tricky ways and it must get there unopened."
"Yes, I expect it must." Muzi's eyes were hooded like a turtle's.
"You're thinking letter bomb," Lander said. "It's not. You can watch me put the contents in the envelope from ten feet away. You can lick the flap, then I'll put on the other seals."
"I deal with men who are interested in money. People with politics often don't pay their bills, or they kill you out of ineptitude. I don't think---"
"$2,000 now, $2,000 if the message gets there satisfactorily." Lander put the money back on the desk. "Another thing, I would advise you to open a numbered bank account in The Hague."
"To what purpose?"
"To put a lot of Libyan currency in if you should decide to retire."
There was a prolonged silence. Finally Lander broke it.
"You have to understand that this must go to the right man the first time. It must not be handed around."
"Since I don't know what you want, I am working blind. Certain inquiries could be made, but even inquiry is dangerous. You are aware that Al Fatah is fragmented, contentious within itself."
"Get it to Black September," Lander said.
"Not for $4,000."
"How much?"
"Inquiries will be difficult and expensive and even then you can never be sure---"
"How much?"
"For $8,000, payable immediately, I would do my best."
"$4,000 now and $4,000 afterward."
"$8,000 now, Mr. Hopkins. Afterward I will not know you and you will never come here again."
"Agreed."
"I am going to Beirut in a week's time. I do not want your letter until immediately before my departure. You can bring it here on the night of the seventh. It will be sealed in my presence. Believe me, I do not want to read what is in it."
The letter contained Lander's real name and address and said that he could do a great service for the Palestinian cause. He asked to meet with a representative of Black September anywhere in the Western Hemisphere. He enclosed a money order for $1,500 to cover any expenses.
Muzi accepted the letter and the $8,000 with a gravity just short of ceremony. It was one of his peculiarities that, when his price was met, he kept his word.
A week later, Lander received a picture postcard from Beirut. There was no message on it. He wondered if Muzi had opened the letter himself and gotten the name and address from it.
A third week passed. He had to fly four times out of Lakehurst. Twice in that week he thought he was being followed as he drove to the airfield, but he could not be sure. On Thursday, August 15, he flew a night-sign run over Atlantic City, flashing billboard messages from the computer-controlled panels of lights on the blimp's great sides.
When he returned to Lakehurst and got into his car, he noticed a card stuck under the windshield wiper. Annoyed, he got out and pulled it loose, expecting an advertisement. He examined the card under the dome light. It was a chit good for a swim at Maxie's Swim Club, near Lakehurst. On the back was written "tomorrow 3 P.M. flash once now for yes."
Lander looked around him at the darkened airfield parking lot. He saw no one. He flashed his headlights once and drove home.
There are many private swimming clubs in New Jersey, well maintained and fairly expensive, and they offer a variety of exclusionary policies. Maxie's had a predominantly Jewish clientele, but unlike some of the club owners Maxie admitted a few blacks and Puerto Ricans if he knew them. Lander arrived at the
"Certain advice---"
"Contrary to what you may believe, Mr. Hopkins, it is not necessary to indulge in endless Arabic circumlocutions in dealing with an Arab, especially since, for the most part, Americans lack the subtlety to make it interesting. This office is not bugged. You are not bugged. Tell me what you want."
"I want a letter delivered to the head of the intelligence section of Al Fatah."
"And who might that be?"
"I don't know. You can find out. I am told you can do nearly anything in Beirut. The letter will be sealed in several tricky ways and it must get there unopened."
"Yes, I expect it must." Muzi's eyes were hooded like a turtle's.
"You're thinking letter bomb," Lander said. "It's not. You can watch me put the contents in the envelope from ten feet away. You can lick the flap, then I'll put on the other seals."
"I deal with men who are interested in money. People with politics often don't pay their bills, or they kill you out of ineptitude. I don't think---"
"$2,000 now, $2,000 if the message gets there satisfactorily." Lander put the money back on the desk. "Another thing, I would advise you to open a numbered bank account in The Hague."
"To what purpose?"
"To put a lot of Libyan currency in if you should decide to retire."
There was a prolonged silence. Finally Lander broke it.
"You have to understand that this must go to the right man the first time. It must not be handed around."
"Since I don't know what you want, I am working blind. Certain inquiries could be made, but even inquiry is dangerous. You are aware that Al Fatah is fragmented, contentious within itself."
"Get it to Black September," Lander said.
"Not for $4,000."
"How much?"
"Inquiries will be difficult and expensive and even then you can never be sure---"
"How much?"
"For $8,000, payable immediately, I would do my best."
"$4,000 now and $4,000 afterward."
"$8,000 now, Mr. Hopkins. Afterward I will not know you and you will never come here again."
"Agreed."
"I am going to Beirut in a week's time. I do not want your letter until immediately before my departure. You can bring it here on the night of the seventh. It will be sealed in my presence. Believe me, I do not want to read what is in it."
The letter contained Lander's real name and address and said that he could do a great service for the Palestinian cause. He asked to meet with a representative of Black September anywhere in the Western Hemisphere. He enclosed a money order for $1,500 to cover any expenses.
Muzi accepted the letter and the $8,000 with a gravity just short of ceremony. It was one of his peculiarities that, when his price was met, he kept his word.
A week later, Lander received a picture postcard from Beirut. There was no message on it. He wondered if Muzi had opened the letter himself and gotten the name and address from it.
A third week passed. He had to fly four times out of Lakehurst. Twice in that week he thought he was being followed as he drove to the airfield, but he could not be sure. On Thursday, August 15, he flew a night-sign run over Atlantic City, flashing billboard messages from the computer-controlled panels of lights on the blimp's great sides.
When he returned to Lakehurst and got into his car, he noticed a card stuck under the windshield wiper. Annoyed, he got out and pulled it loose, expecting an advertisement. He examined the card under the dome light. It was a chit good for a swim at Maxie's Swim Club, near Lakehurst. On the back was written "tomorrow 3 P.M. flash once now for yes."
Lander looked around him at the darkened airfield parking lot. He saw no one. He flashed his headlights once and drove home.
There are many private swimming clubs in New Jersey, well maintained and fairly expensive, and they offer a variety of exclusionary policies. Maxie's had a predominantly Jewish clientele, but unlike some of the club owners Maxie admitted a few blacks and Puerto Ricans if he knew them. Lander arrived at the
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