"Feedback controls," Jan said. "You've been on this prc)ject longer than I have so you know the problems. There is a little bit of white-hot h.e.l.l that we have created down there in the sand. First the nitrogen is pumped down and converted to a plasma by the fusion generator. That in turn heats the sand and rock which evaporates some of the volatiles, which in turn creates pressure which pushes that petroleum to the surface. That's the theory. But in practice there are about a hundred different things that can go wrong with the process...

"I know. Everything from blowing the whole thing up or setting fire to it, or even melting down the reactor, which happened to us once in California. But honestly Jan, we re years past that stage."

"But you are not years past monitoring inputs. There just aren't enough of them to keep accurate watch on the process. It begins to cycle and the cycles build and get out of control, so you have to shut down and go back to the beginning and start over. But we have some new learning software that is beginning to predict the cycles and stop them before they happen. You have to give it a chance."

Karaman swirled the oil around gloomily, then put the jar down to answer the phone. "It's the director,"

he said. "Wants you in his office soonest."

"Right."

The director held out a communication to Jan when he came through the door. "Something big coming apart at the central office. They need you, they say, yesterday or earlier. I have no idea what it is about, except the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds could not have picked a worse time to pull you out. We're finally getting the production leveled and on line. Tell them that, will you. They don't seem to listen to me any more. Make them happy and grab the next plane back here. A pleasure to have you on the site, Kulozik. There's a cab to pick you up."

"I'll have to pack..."

"Don't worry. I took the liberty of having the BOQ servant put all your stuff into your bags. Get moving, so you can get back."

Jan had more than a suspicion that he was not on his way to Suez and Cairo. The Arab cabdriver put Jan's bags into the back then salaamed respectfully as he held the door open for him. It was cool in the air-conditioned interior, after the walk from the buildings. As they pulled away from the installation the driver took a fiat metal box from the seat and pa.s.sed it back to him.

"Lift the lid, sir, and a push-b.u.t.ton lock is revealed. If you are not aware of the combination do not experiment in cab, I beg you. Explosions follow error."

"Thanks," Jan said, weighing the package in his hands. "Is there anything else?"

"A meeting. I am taking you to the place of a.s.signa-tion. There is, I regret, a payment of eighty pounds for this service."

Jan was sure that the man had been well paid for this service and that this additional payment was a little bit of free enterprise. He pa.s.sed the money over in any case. His bank balance was still unbelievable.

They drove down the smooth highway for a half an hour-then turned sharply into one of the tinmarked tracks that led out into the desert. A short while later they came to the scene of some forgotten battlefield filled with the sh.e.l.ls of wrecked tanks and disabled field guns.

"Here please," the driver said, opening the door. Heat pressed in in a savage wave. Jan got out and looked around. There was nothing in sight except the empty desert and the burned wreckage. When he turned back he saw that his bags were on the sand and the driver was climbing back into the cab.

"Hold it!" Jan called out. "What happens next?"

the man did not answer. Instead he gunned the engine to life, spun the vehicle in a tight circle and sped back toward the highway. The dust of his pa.s.sage swirled over Jan who cursed fluently while he wiped his dripping face with the back of his hand.

When the sound of the cab died away the silence and loneliness presssxl in. It was very peaceful, but a litfie frightening at the same time. And hot, searingly hot. If he had to walk back to the highway he would have to leave his bags here. He wouldn't want to carry them, not in this temperature. He laid the metal box in the shade of the bags and hoped the explosive it contained was not heat sensitive.

"You are Ca.s.sius?" the voice said.

Jan turned about, startled, since he had not heard any footsteps in the m.u.f.fling sand. The girl stood there, near the ruined tank, and the arrow of memory startled him so that he almost spoke her name aloud. No, Sara was dead, killed years ago. Yet the first glimpse of this suntanned girl in the brief khaki shorts, with her blond, shoulder-length hair, had startled him. The resemblance was so close. Or was his memory betraying him after all the years? She was an Israeli like Sara, that was all. He realized that he was still staring in silence and had not answered her.

"I'm from Ca.s.sius, yes. My name is Jan."

"Dvora," she said stepping forward and taking his hand; her grip was firm, warm. "We have long suspected that Ca.s.sius was more than one person. But we can talk about that later, out of this sun. Can I help you with your bags?"

"I think I can manage. There is transportation?"

"Yes, out of sight of the road behind this wreck."

It was the same sort of vehicle they used in the oil camp, a halftrack, with wheels at the front and tractor treads behind. Jan threw his bags into the back and climbed up into the high front seat next to Dvora.

There were no doors. It was open at the sides for air, but a solid metal roof kept the sun off them. Dvora threw a switch on the steering column and they started forward silently, with only the slightest hum coming from the wheels.

"Electric?" Jan asked.

She nodded and pointed at the floor. "High density batteries under the floor, about four hundred kilos of them. But out here these vehicles are almost self-sufficient. The roof is covered with macroyield solar cells, a new development. If you don't put too many K's on this thing during the day it will stay recharged without being plugged to the mains." She turned her head and frowned slightly when she found him staring at her again.

"Please excuse me," Jan said. "I know I'm being rude looking at you like that. But you remind me of someone I knew, a good many years ago. She was also an Israeli like you.

"Then you have been to our country before?"

"No. This is the first time. We met near here and I saw her again in England."

"You're lucky. Very few of our people get to travel at all:'

"She was-how shall I say-a very talented person. Her name was Sara."

"Very common, like all of the biblical names."

"Yes, I'm sure so. I heard her last name just once. Giladi. Sara Giladi."

Dvora reached down and switched off the wheel mo-tors. The halftrack clanked jerkily to a stop. Then she half-turned on the seat to face Jan, her face impa.s.sive, her large dark eyes staring into his.

"There are no coincidences in this world, Jan. Now I know why they sent me instead of one of the musclebound field agents. My name is Giladi as well. Sara was my sister."

She was, she had to be. So much of Sara was in the turn of her cheek, her voice, reminding him constantly of the girl he had once known.

"Sara is dead," Dvora said quietly. "Did you know that?"

His smile was twisted, humorless. "I was there when she was killed. We were together. Trying to get out of England. And there was no ijeed for it, stupid, she shouldn't have died. It was a terrible, terrible waste."

Memory flooded back, the guns, the murder. And Thurgood-Smythe's presence. All done under his com-mand. Jan's jaw was locked tight as he remembered and Dvora saw his fingers clench onto the grab handle.

"They told me nothing, no details," Dvora said. "Just that she had died in the service. You... you were in love with her?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"It is to me. I loved her too. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Of course. It's simple enough. We were trying to leave the country, but we never had a chance. We were betrayed from the very beginning. But she didn't know that. Instead of surrendering she fired at them, made them shoot back, willing herself to die so they could not have her knowledge. And that is the most terrible part. They had known everything all of the time."

"I didn't hear anything about that. It is terrible, even more terrible for you because you are alive to remember it."

"It is, yes, but I suppose that it is all past history. We can't bring her back."

That was what he said. But he was silent about the rest of his thoughts as the halftrack started up again.

Perhaps Thurgood-Smythe and Security had physically killed her. But she had been betrayed by her own people, by her own organization right here in Israel. At least that is what Thurgood-Smythe had said.

Where was the truth? He was going to try and find that out before he had anything more to do with these people.

It was a grueling drive and they had little to say to each other, locked in their ow . The sand gave way to rock, then sand again, tnbetnhotou~wtshills; Road signs in Hebrew began to appear and he realized that they were out of the Sinai and in Israel.

Is it much further?"

A half an hour, no more. We are going to Beersheba. He is waiting for you there."

Who?"

Her silence was an answer, and they drove on in the same silence after that. On a paved road now, through small, dusty villages and irrigated fields. Suddenly the desert was gone and everything was green.

Across a valley a small city appeared ahead, but they turned off before they reached it. Up a narrow winding road to a solitary villa surrounded by jacaranda trees.

"Leave your bags," Dvora said, climbing down and stretching. "They'll be taken care of. But bring the metal box. He's expecting that."

Two young men came out as they entered, waving to Dvora as they pa.s.sed. Jan followed her through the cool house to a balcony overlooking the valley and the city beyond. An old man, gray-haired and rail thin, easily in his eighties, came forward to meet them.

"Shalom, Jan Kulozik," he said in a strong voice, its richness unexpected in a man his age. "I am Amri Ben-Haim. Please sit down."

"Then sending Dvora to meet me was no coincidence?"

"No, of course not."

"Then some explanations are in order," Jan said. Still standing.

"Yes they are. And I imagine you would like to discuss that part of the affair first."

"I want Dvora to hear it."

"That is understood, the why she is here. Now we sit down?"

Jan relented and dropped into one of the cane chairs. There was cold lemonade in a jug on the table and he gratefully accepted a large gla.s.s of it. He drained it quickly and it was refilled for him. He sat tensely, the bomb~ protected metal box on his lap. He would turn it over to them, but he wanted to hear what Ben- Haim had to say first.

"Do you know who Thurgood~Smythe is?" Jan asked.

Amri Ben-Haim nodded. "The former head of British Security. He has climbed still higher in the last few years and is now perhaps the top Security officer in the world. His position might even be stronger than that. We know that he is directly involved with military liaison with the United Nations."

"Did you know that he is my brother-in-law? That he is the one who trapped me and Sara-and saw her shot?"

"I am aware of all those things, yes."

And now the important question. Jan carefully set his gla.s.s on the table and tried to relax. Nevertheless his next words had a sharp edge to them.

"Thurgood-Smythe was apparendy aware of the London resistance movement from the very beginning.

He had it penetrated and watched, and arrested its members when it suited him. He also knew that Sara was an Israeli, a secret she died to keep because she was sure this country would suffer if her nationality was known. Her sacrifice was needless because not only did he know about her, but he claimed to be working with your government here. He said that you identified any Israelis who tried to work on their own outside this country. Is that true?"

"Yes and no," Amri Ben-Haim said.

"That's not much of an answer.

I will attempt to explain. This tiation has a dubious relationship with the large power blocs who operate under the name of the United Nations. During the Retrocession they completely forgot the Near East.

Once the oil wells ran dry they were happy to turn their backs on this troublesome part of the world.

Free of outside interfer-ence, Israel finally could make peace here. There was war, of course, as soon as the major countries went away. We died by the thousands, but we survived. The Arab govern-ments very quickly used up their imported weapons and were naturally enough not resupplied. Defeated here, they fell back upon tradition and squabbled and fought among themselves as they had always done. A jehad, a holy war, spread from Iran and swept up to our borders. We survived that as well. Hunger finally replaced their con-suming interest in religion and people began to starve and die of disease. That is where we helped. Unlike the world powers we have never attempted to impose a western-oriented, machine-intensive and high-consumption society on this part of the world. It does not suit the local conditions. What we have done is to develop and improve on the ancient agncultural techniques, while introducing suitable technological processes, such as desalination of water, that have important applications in the area."

'Aren't you straying from my question?"

"Please indulge me a moment longer, Jan Kulozik.

Everything that I say is relevant. We cultivated our back garden you might say. Encouraged food and light manu-facturing suitable to this part of the world, cured disease and built hospitals, trained doctors.

Nor did we forget our own defense. We made peace on all sides, since peace is the best form of security. I don't think you realize what that means, historically speaking. The oldest written rec-ords, including the Old Testament of the Bible, are records of warfare. Unending warfare. It is over now. So when a measure of stability returned and other nations once again became aware of the Near East it was settled and peaceful and ready to supply them with year~round sup-plies of agricultural products. I won't say that they exactly fell into our arms with happiness, in fact a few overtures were made for more direct control. This was when our atomic missiles, most of them located outside of Israel, became important.

We will never start an atomic war, jf for no other reason other than the inescapable fact that we are small enough to be eliminated by a few well-placed hydrogen bombs. But the others know that even when dead we would fight back. The price for an atomic war then became such a high one that no country in the world was willing to pay it. So an arrangement was worked out, which has continued happily for hundreds of years. We stay in and they stay out. It means that we Jews, at one time the most cosmopolitan people in the world, have become the most insular. Of course in order to maintain this carefully bal-anced relationship we do have governmental liaison at a high level. We also rely a good deal on intelligence agents."

"Spies?"

'Another word for them. The other countries have. theirs too. We know because we capture them regularly. Unfortunately they capture some of ours as well. To return to your question. By the time we discovered that Sara's cover had been penetrated it was effectively too late to do anything to help her..."

"Excuse my interrupting again, Mr. Ben-Haim, but I think you are just waffling. That may be taken as an insult to a man of your age and position, but it's true. You have yet to answer my question.",, "Patience, young man, Ben-Haim said, raising his hand palm outward. "I am almost there. Thurgood- Smythe told us he was going' to capture Sara and wanted to exchange her for three of his own agents that we had in custody. I of course agreed. So we did know that Sara was in danger of capture, and yes, I was in contact with Thurgood-Smythe."

"He told me that you had informed on Sara and told him as weli of the presence of all your younger agents in Britain who were working on their own.

"He lied to you. We never had any such arrangement. None of our agents work on their own, no matter what Thurgood-Smythe or the agents themselves have told you."

Jan sat back, exasperated.

"Then one of you is lying," he said.

"Exactly. Now you see why I forced you to listen to a boring history of our country's problems. So you might be able to judge who is the biggest liar. Myself~or Thurgood-Smythe."

"You both could be. He from the most selfish of motives, you from the most n.o.ble. All I know is that Sara is dead."

"She is," Ben-Haim said, and the words were a sigh. "I did not know it was going to happen and I would have done anything to prevent it. Anything else is a lie, a filthy, filthy lie."

'And Thurgood-Smythe is the world's dirtiest liar. We are all stuck in his web. Myself in particular. I have come here as Ca.s.sius, the one who provided you with the top-secret information for the past two years."

"Thank you, Ca.s.sius. We are most grateful."

"If you like I can tell you all about that information, as proof of my authenticity. I memorized that information about a week ago. Would you like to know who Ca.s.sius really is?"

Ben-Haim nodded. "Verification would help. We have been sure from the start that it could only be Thurgood Smythe. That was why we were so intrigued when you appeared."

"He's playing with us," Jan said with sudden realiza-tion. "Playing games with us all."

"Yes," Ben-Haim nodded, "I am sure that is a part of it. Though not all. He could have prepared the Ca.s.sius role for a number of reasons. But when you returned to Earth so suddenly, out of the blue so to speak, he seized upon your arrival as an opportunity not to be refused. Now we will just have to find out for ourselves what he is up to. I believe you have a package there?"