Read Online Flashpoint by Dan J. Marlowe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dan J. Marlowe
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Erikson was admitting two men into the outer office. As they crossed the threshold into the larger office, one of the fluorescent tubes above my head flickered momentarily. At first glance both men looked more like insurance agents than Israeli counter-intelligence agents. The older man was stocky, with a dignified bearing and thinning gray hair. He had a wide mouth but thin lips, and his deep-set eyes appeared to lack warmth.
His companion was younger, taller, and muscularly lean. His small eyes were close set, like two rivets holding in place an elongated nose that was almost sharp at its end. His sandy hair had a reddish tint which was more pronounced in his thin, straight eyebrows. His entire face had a foxy, streamlined appearance.
Erikson thrust out his huge hand in welcome. The older man took it, but the younger one merely nodded. He turned and walked into the outer office again. When he disappeared from the left-hand television screen, I knew he was reconnoitering the corridor outside Erikson's office. He came into view again on the monitor almost at once.
"Sit down, gentlemen," Erikson invited the pair. The gray-haired man nodded and sat down so erectly his back didn't touch the metal of the chair. The younger man folded his arms and remained standing. "What can I do for you, Mr. Bergman?" Erikson continued.
"What I have to say, Mr. Erikson," Bergman began in a resonant voice, "will take as little of your time as possible because I'm convinced you have little time left. We appreciate that you are forced to work under what we consider to be unnecessary restrictions, and we will curb our impatience a little longer. We have, after all, agreed to cooperate to the fullest degree. We sacrifice this important element of time, however, only to urge you to act without delay."
Bergman spoke with a clipped, British accent which reminded me of Ronald Colman in his heyday on the screen.
"Act?" Erikson responded blandly. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Must we always play cat and mouse?" Bergman's tone had an undercurrent of harshness. "You know to what I refer. It's the matter of the airliner forced down by fedayeen commandos in Nevada."
He paused to gauge Erikson's reaction. "I see that you are not surprised that we know about this bold attack against your airplane," he went on. "We have ways and means of looking after our interests even in your country. It should suggest to you that if correct response on your part is lacking, we have all the information necessary to react in our own defense."
"The investigation isn't complete at this time," Erikson answered. "So it's impossible to verify your suspicion that foreign elements diverted the aircraft. At this time no one can officially name the saboteurs."
The younger man took a quick step forward but was stopped by a motion from Bergman in his chair. "Your government may choose to be as blind as it wishes, sir," Bergman replied. "We know that a quarter million dollars was acquired by Palestinian raiders from the passengers of the aircraft, and we know that this money will most certainly be used for purposes detrimental to the security of the state of Israel."
"That's quite a presumption," Erikson said.
"I know of what I speak," Bergman said firmly. "The same pattern has been practiced in the past. There is nothing new in this piracy of aircraft. This time it involves the cold-blooded murders of members of the Jewish faith. We have every reason to believe that this money will find its way to the El Fatah to reappear in the form of arms to be used against the defenders of the homeland."
"I don't mean to belittle your beliefs, Mr. Bergman," Erikson began, "but on today's underworld market even the sum of money you say was taken would buy few significant illicit weapons."
"Every bullet and every grenade is a threat to my people, sir, but
Erikson was admitting two men into the outer office. As they crossed the threshold into the larger office, one of the fluorescent tubes above my head flickered momentarily. At first glance both men looked more like insurance agents than Israeli counter-intelligence agents. The older man was stocky, with a dignified bearing and thinning gray hair. He had a wide mouth but thin lips, and his deep-set eyes appeared to lack warmth.
His companion was younger, taller, and muscularly lean. His small eyes were close set, like two rivets holding in place an elongated nose that was almost sharp at its end. His sandy hair had a reddish tint which was more pronounced in his thin, straight eyebrows. His entire face had a foxy, streamlined appearance.
Erikson thrust out his huge hand in welcome. The older man took it, but the younger one merely nodded. He turned and walked into the outer office again. When he disappeared from the left-hand television screen, I knew he was reconnoitering the corridor outside Erikson's office. He came into view again on the monitor almost at once.
"Sit down, gentlemen," Erikson invited the pair. The gray-haired man nodded and sat down so erectly his back didn't touch the metal of the chair. The younger man folded his arms and remained standing. "What can I do for you, Mr. Bergman?" Erikson continued.
"What I have to say, Mr. Erikson," Bergman began in a resonant voice, "will take as little of your time as possible because I'm convinced you have little time left. We appreciate that you are forced to work under what we consider to be unnecessary restrictions, and we will curb our impatience a little longer. We have, after all, agreed to cooperate to the fullest degree. We sacrifice this important element of time, however, only to urge you to act without delay."
Bergman spoke with a clipped, British accent which reminded me of Ronald Colman in his heyday on the screen.
"Act?" Erikson responded blandly. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."
"Must we always play cat and mouse?" Bergman's tone had an undercurrent of harshness. "You know to what I refer. It's the matter of the airliner forced down by fedayeen commandos in Nevada."
He paused to gauge Erikson's reaction. "I see that you are not surprised that we know about this bold attack against your airplane," he went on. "We have ways and means of looking after our interests even in your country. It should suggest to you that if correct response on your part is lacking, we have all the information necessary to react in our own defense."
"The investigation isn't complete at this time," Erikson answered. "So it's impossible to verify your suspicion that foreign elements diverted the aircraft. At this time no one can officially name the saboteurs."
The younger man took a quick step forward but was stopped by a motion from Bergman in his chair. "Your government may choose to be as blind as it wishes, sir," Bergman replied. "We know that a quarter million dollars was acquired by Palestinian raiders from the passengers of the aircraft, and we know that this money will most certainly be used for purposes detrimental to the security of the state of Israel."
"That's quite a presumption," Erikson said.
"I know of what I speak," Bergman said firmly. "The same pattern has been practiced in the past. There is nothing new in this piracy of aircraft. This time it involves the cold-blooded murders of members of the Jewish faith. We have every reason to believe that this money will find its way to the El Fatah to reappear in the form of arms to be used against the defenders of the homeland."
"I don't mean to belittle your beliefs, Mr. Bergman," Erikson began, "but on today's underworld market even the sum of money you say was taken would buy few significant illicit weapons."
"Every bullet and every grenade is a threat to my people, sir, but
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