Rostov was pleased that Hassan was responding well to his friendly overtures. He examined the cinders in the ashtray to make sure. the signal had burned completely. Hassan said, "You're assuming Dickstein is behind the SavHe Shipping Corporation." "Yes." "So what will we do about the &romberg?" "Well . . ." Rostov emptied his glass and set it on the table. "My guess is he wants the Stromberg so he can get an exact layout of the sister ship CopareUl." "It will be an expensive blueprint" "He can sell the ship again. However, he may also use the Stromberg in the hijack of the Coparellt-l doift quite see how, just yet. "Will you put a man aboard the Stromberg, like Tyria on the Coparelft?" "No point Dickstein is sure to get rid of the old crew and fill the ship with Israeli saflom FU have to think of something else." "Do we know where the Stromberg is now?" "I've asked the squirrels. They'll have an answer by the time I get to MOSCOW." I Hassan's ffight was called. He stood up. "We meet in Luxembourgr' "I'm not sure. Ill let you know. Listen, theres, something I've got to say. Sit down again." Hassan sat down. "When we started to work together on Dickstein I was very hostile to you. I regret that now, I'm apologizing; but I must tell you there was a reason for it You see, Cairo isn't secure. lirs certain there are double agents in the Egyptian Intelligence apparatus. What I was concerned about-and still am-is that everything you report to your superiors will get back, via a double agent, to Tel Aviv; and then Dickstein will know how close we are and will take evasive action." "I appreciate your frankness.I Appreciate, Rostov thought: He loves it "However, you are now completely in the picture, and what we must discuss is haw to prevent the information you have in your possession getting back to Tel Aviv." Hassan nodded. "What do you suggest?" "Well. Youll have to tell what weve found out, of course, but I want you to be as vague as possible about the details. Don't give names, times, places. When you!re pushed, complain about me, say Ive refused to let you share all the information. Doift talk to anyone except the people you're obliged to report to. In particular, tell nobody about Savile Shipping, the Stromberg, or the Copareft As for Pyotr Tyrin being aboard the Copareffl-try to forget it." Hassan looked worried. -Whaes left to tell?" "Plenty. Dickstein, Euratom, uranium, the meeting with Pierre Borg ... youll be a hero in Cairo if you tell half the litory. Hassan was not convinced. "Ill be as frank as you. If I do this your way, my report will not be as impressive as yours." Rostov gave a wry smile. "Is that unfair?" "No," Hassan conceded, "you deserve most of the credit." "Besides, nobody but the two of us will know how different the reports are. And you!re going to get all the credit you need in the end." "All right," Hassan said. "I'll be vague." "Good." Rostov waved his hand for a waiter. "You've got a little time, have a quick one before you go." He settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. He was satisfied: Hassan would do as he had been told. "Im looking forward to getting home." "Any plans?" "IT try to take a few days on the coast with Mariya and the boys. Weve a dacha in the Riga Bay." "Sounds nice.' "It's pleasant ~here--but not as warm as where you're going, of course. Where will you head for-Alexandria?" The last call for Hassan!s flight came over the public address system, and the Arab stood up. "No such luck," he said. "I expect to spend the whole time stuck in filthy Cairo." And Rostov had the peculiar feeling that Yasif Hassan was lying.
Franz Albrecht Pedler's life was ruined when Germany lost the war. At the age of fifty, a career officer in the Wehrmacht, he was suddenly homeless, penniless and unemployed. And, like millions of other Germans, he started again. He became a salesman for a French dye manufacturer: small commission, no salary., In 1946 there were few customers, but by 1951 German Industry was rebuilding and when at last things began to look up Pedler was in a good position to take advantage of the new opportunities. He opened an office in Wiesbaden, a rail Junction on the right bank of the Rhine that promised to develop into an Industrial center. Ms product list grew, and so did his tally of customers: soon he was selling soaps as well as dyes, and he gained entry to the U.S. bases, which at the time administered that part of occupied Germany. He had learned, during the hard years, to be an oppontunist: if a U.S. Army procurement officer wanted disinfectant in pint bottles, - Peddler would buy disinfectant in ten-gallon drums, pour the stuff from the drums into secondhand bottles in a rented barn, put on a label saying "R A. Pedler's Special Disinfectant" and resell at a fat proft From buying in bulk and repackaging it was not a very big step to buying ingredients and manufacturing. The first barrel of F. A. Pedler's Special Industrial Cleanser-never called simply "soapt-was mixed in the same rented barn and sold to the U.S. Air Force for use by aircraft maintenance engineers. The company never looked back. In the late Fiffies Pedler read a book about chemical warfare and went on to win a big defense contract to supply a range of solutions designed to neutralize various kinds of chemical weapons. F. A. Pedler had become a military supplier, small but secure and profitable. The rented barn had grown into a small complex of single-story buildings. Franz married again-his first wife had been killed in the 1944 bombing-and fathered a child But he was still an opportunist at heart, and when he heard ;i;;;t a small mountain of urannun ore going cheap, he smelled a profit. The uranium belonged to a Belgian company called Socidt6 G&drale de la Chimie. Chimie was one of the corporations which ran Belgium!s African colony, the Belgian Congo, a country rich in minerals. After the 1960 pullout Chimie stayed on; but, knowing that those who did not walk out would eventually be thrown out, the company expended all its efforts to ship home as much raw material as it could before the gates slammed shut. Between 1960 and 1965 it accumulated a large stockpile of yelloweake at its refinery near the Dutch border. Sadly for Chimie, a nuclear test ban treaty was ratified in the meantime, and when Chimie was finally thrown out of the Congo there were few buyers for uranium. The yellowcake sat in a silo, tying up scarce capital. F. A. Pedler did not actually use very much uranium in the manufacture of their dyes. However, Franz loved a gamble of this sort: the price was low, he could make, a little money by having the stuff refined, and ff the uranium market improved-as it was likely to sooner or later-he would make a big capital profit. So he bought some. Nat Dickstein liked Pedler right away. The German was a sprightly seventy-three-year-old who still had all his hair and the twinkle in his eye.. They met on a Saturday. Pedler wore a loud sports jacket and fawn trousers, spoke good English with an American accent and gave Dickstein a glass of Sekt, the local champagne. They were wary of each other at first. After all, they had fought on opposite sides in a war which had been cruel to them both. But Dickstein had always believed that the enemy was not Germany but Fascism, and he was nervous only that Pedler might be uneasy. It seemed the same was true of Pedler. Dickstein had called from his hotel in Wiesbaden to make an appointment. His call had been awaited eagerly. The local Israeli consul had alerted Pedler that Mr. Dickstein, a senior' army procurement officer with a large shopping list, was on his way. Pedler had suggested a short tour of the factory on Saturday morning, when it would be empty, followed by lunch at his home. if Dickstein had been genuine he would have been put off by the tour: the factory was no gleaming model of German efficiency, but a straggling collection of old huts and cluttered yards with a pervasive bad smell. After sitting up half the night with a textbook on chemical engineering Dickstein was ready with a handful of intelligent questions about agitators and baffies, materials-handling and quality-control and packaging. He relied upon the language problem to camouflage any errors. It seemed to be working. The situation was peculiar. Dickstein had to Play the role of a buyer and be dubious and noncommittal while the seller wooed him, whereas in reality he was hoping to seduce Pedler into a relationship the German would be unable or unwilling to sever. It was Pedlees uranium he wanted, but he was not going to ask for it, now or ever. Instead he would try to maneuver Pedler into a position where he was dependent upon Dickstein for his livelihood. After the factory tour Pedler drove him in a new Mercedes from the works to a wide chalet-style house on a hillside. They sat in front of a big window and sipped their Sekt while Frau Pedler--a pretty, cheerful woman in her forties-busied herself in the kitchen. Bringing a potential customer home to lunch on the weekend was a somewhat Jewish way of doing business, Dickstein mused, and he wondered if Pedler had thought of that Ilia window overlooked the valley Down below the river was wide and slow, with a narrow road running alongside it Small gray houses with white shutters clustered in small groups along the banks, and the vineyards sloped upward to the Pedlers! house and beyond it to the treeline. If I were going to live in a cold country, Dickstein thought~ this would do nicely. "Well, what do you think?" said Pedler. "About the view, or the factory?" Pedler smiled and shrugged. "Both." 'The view is magnificent. The factory is smaller than I expected. Pedler lit a cigarette. He was a heavy smoker-he was lucky to have lived so long. "Small?" Perhaps I should explain what rin looking for.- "Please." Dickstein launched into his story. "Right now the Army buys cleaning materials from a variety of suppliers: detergents from one, ordinary soap from another, solvents for machinery from someone else and so on. Were tying to cut costs, and perhaps we can do this by taking our entire business in this area to one manufacturer." Pedlees eyes widened. "That, is . He fumbled for a phrase '~ . . a tall order." "I'm afraid it may be too tall for you," Dickstein said, thinking: Don't say yesl "Not nece&urily. Ile only reason we haven!t got that kind of bulk manufacturing capacity is simply that we've never had this scale of business. We certainly have the managerial and technical know-how, and with a large firm order we could get finance to expand it all depends on the figures, really.- Dickstem pkJwd up his briefcase from beside his chair and opened it "Here are the specifications for,the,products," he said, handing Pedler a list. "Plus the quantities required and the time scAle, You'll want time to consult with your directon and do your sums---~' "rm the boss," Pedler said with a smile. "I don't have to consult anybody. Give me tomorrow to work on the figures, and Monday to we the bank. On Tuesday 1% call and give you prices." "I was told you were a good man to work with," Dickstein said. "There are some advantages to being a small company." Frau Pedler came in from the kitchen and said, "Lunch is ready.