A Perilous Eden by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

How’s your Scotch?” the president asked.
    â€œFine, thanks.” He shrugged, then lit a cigarette from a pack in his pocket. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, sir, but you did go through a lot of trouble and expense to bring me here. I think we should get down to business. Why?”
    The president looked to Ted, who remained silent. He found himself growing restive beneath Tchartoff’s unwavering gaze. He stood, moving the ice around in his glass.
    â€œSmoking is bad for your health,” he commented.
    â€œSo are grenades.” Tchartoff laughed. He lifted his glass and shrugged pleasantly again. “I live with the one, might as well live with the other, too.”
    â€œYou’ve heard about the recent kidnappings of certain American military men, diplomats, even businessmen, I presume?” the president asked.
    Tchartoff’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The most recent wave of terrorism against the United States? Everyone has heard—the media definitely give these guys all the exposure they could want. Hijackings, explosions, kidnappings. Bombing raids. Yes, I know what’s going on. And we both know my current partners are behind it, don’t we?” He drew on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving the president’s.
    â€œThey’re holding some very important men,” Ted Larkspur said quietly.
    Adam Tchartoff shrugged. “I understand that a secret source revealed that the kidnappers would attempt to negotiate soon. I happen to know that they’re not quite ready. That they plan to strike again.”
    â€œYes, that’s what we’d heard,” the president said.
    Tchartoff lifted one brow.
    â€œI want to fight back,” the president said.
    Adam Tchartoff smiled slowly, leaning back slightly and exhaling smoke. His eyes flickered to the lawn, then back to the president. “That’s where I come in, I take it? You don’t want to indulge in any bombing, and total warfare is, of course, out. But you’ll have to do something, won’t you? You can’t let your hostages be sacrificed, but then again, you don’t really want to be caught negotiating, either, do you? It’s a dilemma.”
    The president wasn’t sure whether he was being mocked or not. “I’m sorry for you, Tchartoff,” he said at last, “if you’ve forgotten that every life is sacred.”
    The blue gaze didn’t waver. “I haven’t forgotten, sir. Now, why am I here?”
    â€œEight men are being held. Bright, able men. Four military advisers, two diplomats and two bankers. What the hell anyone would want with a banker …” He shook his head. “Every one of those men has a family. Tearful wives, kids, parents, sisters and brothers—calling. We promise them that we’re doing everything we can.” He grinned dryly, but no humor touched his aging eyes. “People are calling the radio stations and saying that the United States ought to step in and bomb the entire Mideast—clean out the cesspool! Then again, we’re being inundated with calls from people who think I’m a warmonger and should be shot. I don’t want a war. I don’t want children killed. I don’t want a bunch of innocent bystanders killed. I want to infiltrate the group that’s responsible, and I want every last one of their hides.”
    â€œTall order,” Tchartoff commented. He leaned forward and crushed out his cigarette. Then he leaned back again, his gaze uncompromising.
    So suddenly that Tchartoff’s muscles contracted, the president slammed a fist against the table. “I will not be terrorized by those bloody murdering bastards!”
    Tchartoff raised one brow slightly but said nothing. He glanced over to Ted Larkspur, who seemed determined to keep silent.
    â€œMr. Tchartoff, we know where the men are being held—and by whom.”
    â€œThat’s to your