"Go on."

"Okay, now watch the guy seated on his left," instructed Kurtzman as the camera zoomed in on a youthful-looking Arab. "That's Hassan, Zayoud's younger brother, and he's the real power behind the Khurabi throne. Right now he's the Minister of Foreign Affairs, but while his brother plays with all the latest novelties, Hassan is quietly consolidating his own position. He's known to be a hard-liner. He's been chummy with Khaddafi and the Ayatollah."

Bolan watched as an abbreviated dossier rolled up across the screen. "So they think he was the man behind the hijacking of that Kuwaiti airliner? He sounds ambitious."

"If fissionable material was delivered to Khurabi, you can be sure that Hassan Zayoud was the customer."

"And his friends in Iran and Libya would like to get hold of the bomb," growled Bolan. "Or he could sell it to the highest bidder."

"No, he doesn't need the money. Zayoud can obviously finance a terrorist army out of his own pocket. He'll use it for ideological gain. Most likely he'll..."

"Hey, stop there, freeze the image!"

"That's the most recent picture we have of Hassan. The guy standing behind him is Craig..."

"Harrison. Yeah, I know him, or know of him rather. Had a good record in Nam, then he went bad; in fact, tie's one of the baddest mercs around. Harrison will sell his services to anyone if the price is right."

"Word has it that Hassan Zayoud has been recruiting," admitted Kurtzman, "but we don't know what for."

Bolan made another note to get in touch with Jeff Clayton in Toronto; he might have heard some scuttlebutt on mercenary recruitment.

Bolan did not like the way this was coming together. Not one bit. "Can you find out who the best expert on Khurabi is in the States? I want to talk with them."