'Possibly?' shouted Margaret Lowell. 'Yesterday? Why don't you know— why don't we all know, why doesn't the country know?'
'There's a total blackout, apparently requested by the intelligence services and granted by the President.'
'Obviously designed to unbalance the Arabs,' said Mandel. 'They kill for publicity, and if they don't get it they go crazier than they already are. Crazy people stand out—’
'And if they're alive they have to get out of the country,' added Sundstrom. 'Can they get out, Varak?'
'It would depend on the sophistication of their arrangements, sir. On who made it possible for them to get in.'
'Were any of the Palestinians taken alive?' persisted Gideon Logan.
'I can only speculate,' answered the Czech, his eyes neutral but beneath that neutrality searching intensely. 'I was fortunate to learn what I did before the blackout was made total; the loss of life was not broken down at that point.'
'What are your speculations?' asked Sundstrom.
'At best, there is only a 10 to 15 per cent chance that any of the assailants was captured—alive. The figure is based on Mideast statistics. It's customary for terrorist teams to carry cyanide capsules sewn into their lapels, concealed razor blades and syringes taped to various parts of their bodies, anything that facilitates taking their own lives rather than reveal information through torture or drugs. Remember, except for the inability to kill their enemies, death is no sacrifice for these people. Instead, it's a rite of passage to an afterlife of joy, not overabundant for them here.'
'Then it's possible that one or two or more might have been captured alive,' pressed Logan, making a statement.
'It's possible, depending upon how many were involved. It's a priority, if it can be accomplished.'
'Why is it so important, Gideon?' asked Samuel Winters.
'Because we're all aware of the extraordinary measures taken to protect Kendrick,' replied the black entrepreneur, studying Varak's face, 'and I think it's imperative to know how these unschooled fanatics penetrated such security. Any word on that, Milos?'
'Yes, sir. Mine, and hardly official, but it's only a matter of days before the federal units make the connection I made.'
'What the hell is it?' cried Margaret Lowell, her voice loud and sharp.
'I assume you're all aware of Andrew Vanvlanderen—'
'No,' broke in Lowell.
'What about him?' asked Gideon Logan.
'Should we?' chimed in Mandel.
'He died,' said Eric Sundstrom, sitting back in his chair.
'What?' The word shot out three times in succession.
'It happened early this morning in California, too late for the eastern papers,' explained Winters. 'The cause of death was listed as a heart attack. I heard it on the radio.'
'So did I,' added Sundstrom.
'I haven't listened to a radio.' Margaret Lowell.
'I was on a boat and then a plane.' Gideon Logan.
'I was at a basketball game.' Jacob Mandel, guiltily.
'It's not the biggest news story of the day,' continued Sundstrom, sitting forward. 'The late editions of the Post had it on page four or five, I think, and Vanvlanderen was at least known in this town. Outside here and Palm Springs, not too many people have ever heard his name.'
'What's the connection to the Palestinians?' asked Logan, his dark eyes riveted on Varak.
'The alleged heart attack is open to question, sir.'
Each face around the table was like granite… hard, immobile, set as in stone. Slowly, each looked at the others, the enormity of the implication rolling over them like an immense powerful wave.
