"Apparently it was never armed. Everything we recovered is before you," Ghosn answered. He was already impressed with Manfred.

Fromm ran his fingers inside the bombcase, searching for connectors. "You're correct. How interesting." There was a long pause. "You know that it can probably be repaired and even "

"Even what?" Ghosn asked, knowing the answer.

"This design can be converted into a triggering device."

"For what?" Bock asked.

"For a hydrogen bomb," Ghosn answered. "I suspected that."

"Awfully heavy, nothing like the efficiency of a modern design. As they say, crude but effective " Fromm looked up. "You want my help to repair it, then?"

"Will you help?" Ghosn asked.

"Ten years - more, twenty years I have studied and thought How will it be used?"

"Does that trouble you?"

"It will not be used in Germany?"

"Of course not," Ghosn answered, almost in annoyance. What quarrel did the Organization really have with the Germans, after all?

Something in Bock's mind, however, went click. He closed his eyes for a moment to engrave the thought in his memory.

"Yes, I will help."

"You will be well-paid," Ghosn promised him. He saw a moment later that this was a mistake. But that didn't matter, did it?

"I do not do such things for money! You think I am a mercenary?" Fromm asked indignantly.

"Excuse me. I meant no insult. A skilled worker is someone to be rewarded for his time. We are not beggars, you know."

Neither am I, Fromm almost said, before his good sense intervened. These were not the Argentines, were they? They were not Fascists, not capitalists, they were revolutionary comrades who had also fallen upon bad political times though he was sure their fiscal situation was highly favorable indeed. The Soviets had never given arms to the Arabs. It had all been sold for hard currency, even under Brezhnev and Andropov, and if that had been good enough for the Soviets when they still held the true faith then

"Forgive me. I merely stated a fact, and I did not mean to insult you, either. I know you are not beggars. You are revolutionary soldiers, freedom fighters, and I will be honored to assist you in any way I can." He waved his hand. "You may feel free to pay me whatever you think fair-" it would be plenty, more than a mere million D-Mark! "-but please understand that I do not sell myself for money."

"It is a pleasure to meet an honorable man," Ghosn said, with a satisfied look.

Bock thought they had both laid it on rather thick, but kept his peace. He already suspected how Fromm would be paid.

"So." Ghosn said next. "Where do we begin?"

"First, we think. I need paper and pencil."

"And who might you be?" Ryan asked.

"Ben Goodley, sir."

"Boston?" Ryan asked. The accent was quite distinctive.

"Yes, sir. Kennedy School. I'm a post-doctoral fellow and, well, now I'm a White House Fellow also."

"Nancy?" Ryan turned to his secretary.