TIME Beirut Correspondent Roberto Suro covers not one but two of the toughest news beats in the world: embattled Lebanon and the police state of Syria. For this week's cover stories on the continuing violence in Lebanon and on Syrian President Hafez As sad and his country's pivotal role in the tur bulent Middle East, Suro confronted the difficulties of reporting from both countries.

Having visited Syria more than a dozen times during his two years as a correspondent in the Middle East, Suro is uncomfortably aware of the probability that he is followed and that his phone and telex communications are monitored in the tightly controlled nation.

"Whether or not it is true," he says, "most people you deal with assume that the secret police will find out they were talking to an American journalist, and will not cross certain conversa tional red lines. Speaking critically about President Assad can be dangerous, especially mentioning that he is a member of the power ful minority religious group, the Alawites." By drawing on the in formation of private and understandably wary sources, plus the views of diplomats in Damascus and Palestinian officials with close ties in Syria, Suro was able nonetheless to carpenter together a remarkably candid portrait of Assad and his regime.

During Suro's time in Beirut, he has reported on the Israeli siege, the massacre in the Palestinian refugee camps, the grisly bombing of the U.S. embassy, right through to last week's U.S. retaliatory bombing raids. Since the arrival of the U.S. Marines more than a year ago, he has occasionally escaped from the disorder and dangers of life in the Lebanese capital by visiting their encampment south of the city. "Once inside the gates," Suro says, "you could feel protected by strapping young men who spoke in familiar accents. There were Sunday afternoon barbecues and videotape viewings of Dynasty episodes, accompanied by wisecracks.

Last winter I heard a broadcast of the Super Bowl in a ramshackle place that served as an officers' club; the rowdy cheering drowned out whole chunks of the game. It was a welcome little piece of America--after all, even foreign correspondents get homesick."

All this activity stopped abruptly with the terrorist bombing of Marine headquarters in October. Now, says Suro, "the compound is like the rest of Beirut; sudden and unpredictable violence is always a possibility. Little America has become ground zero."

Indeed, 15 minutes after Suro's photo at left was taken last week, rounds from a firefight fell on the spot. This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.