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Tiger of Mitla Pass"---journalism.
    Ambassador Tell, still wearing his dinner clothes from an embassy function, made brief introductions.
    The room fell silent and Kabakov pressed the switch on his small tape recorder. The voice of Dahlia Iyad filled the silence. "Citizens of America..."
    When the tape had ended, Kabakov spoke slowly and carefully, weighing his words. "We believe that the Ailul al Aswad---Black September---is preparing to strike here. They are not interested in hostages or negotiations or revolutionary theatrics this time. They want maximum casualties---they want to make you sick. We believe the plan is well advanced and that this woman is a principal." He paused. "We believe it likely that she is in this country now."
    "Then you must have information to supplement the tape," Fowler said.
    "It is supplemented by the fact that we know they want to strike here, and the circumstances in which the tape was found. They have tried before," Kabakov said.
    "You took the tape from Najeer's apartment after you killed him?"
    "Yes."
    "You didn't question him first?"
    "Questioning Najeer would have been useless."
    Sam Corley saw anger in Fowler's face. Corley glanced at the file before him. "Why do you think it was the woman you saw in the room who made the tape?"
    "Because Najeer had not had time to put it in a safe place," Kabakov said. "He was not a careless man."
    "He was not careful enough to keep you, from killing him," Fowler said.
    "Najeer lasted a long time," .Kabakov said. "Long enough for Munich to happen, Lod Airport, too long. If you are not careful now, American arms and legs will fly."
    "Why do you think the plan would go on now that Najeer is dead?"
    Corley looked up from the paper clip he was examining and answered Fowler himself. "Because the tape was dangerous. Making it would. have been very nearly the final step. The orders would have been given. Am I right, Major?"
    Kabakov recognized an expert interrogator when he saw one. Corley was being the advocate. "Exactly," he said.
    "An operation might be mounted in another country and moved here at the last minute," Corley said. "Why do you think the woman is based here?"
    "Najeer's apartment had been under surveillance for some time," Kabakov explained. "She was not seen in Beirut before or after the night of the raid. Two linguists in the Mossad analyzed the tape independently and came to the same conclusion: She learned English as a child from a Briton, but has been exposed to American English for the last year or two. American-made clothing was found in the room."
    "Maybe she was just a courier, taking final instructions from Najeer," Fowler said. "Instructions could be passed on anywhere."
    "If she were only a courier, she would never have seen Najeer's face," Kabakov said. "Black September is compartmented like a wasp's nest. Most of their agents know only one or two others in the apparatus."
    "Why didn't you kill the woman, too, Major?" Fowler was not looking at Kabakov when he said this. If he had been looking, he would not have looked long.
    The ambassador spoke for the first time. "Because there was no reason to kill her at the time, Mr. Fowler. I hope you do not come to wish he had."
    Kabakov blinked once. These men did not understand the danger. They would not be warned. Behind his eyes, Kabakov saw the Arab armor thundering across the Sinai and into the cities, herding Jewish civilians. Because there were no planes. Because the Americans had been sickened. Because he had spared the woman. His hundred victories were ashes in his mouth. The fact that he could not possibly have known that the woman was important did not excuse him in the slightest in his own eyes. The mission to Beirut had not been perfect.
    Kabakov stared into Fowler's jowly face. "Do you have a dossier on Hafez Najeer?"
    "He appears in our files on a list of Al Fatah officers."
    "A complete dossier on him is included with my report. Look at the pictures, Mr. Fowler. They were