Dominic and the others were already up and ready. 'All set, Carl. Is there anything else we need to know?'
Langers yawned widely before answering, 'No. Just make sure you check in. Your call sign is Gold and I'm Silver. That ought to keep it simple enough. Remember we have to be on the deck in three days, no more. So don't fart around out there, and good luck.'
Dominic took the lead, Sims drove the trailing vehicle, Egon was in the center with Roman. Their Land Rovers were loaded with extra gas and water cans as well as spare parts for those most likely to break down. Each vehicle had a power winch and cable on its front. These would be needed in the days to come when one would have to pull the other out of ruts and deep sand.
Langers watched them move out across the runway and out onto the road leading down the mountain to the flatlands. Three days, no more. If anything at all went wrong and slowed them up, there'd be hell to pay. He'd be glad when Monpelier got back. Gus was all right, but he wanted someone a bit more discreet on hand to keep an eye on Yousef. Gus had all the subtlety of an elephant in heat.
He was waiting by the radio when the first call came in right on time. The transmission was loud and clear.
'Silver, this is Gold. How do you read me? Over.'
Langers hit the talk button. 'I got you five by five. Everything okay?'
'Roger that, Silver. Making good time. The road is clear but it's getting hot as hell out here. Will check in again on schedule. Out.'
Langers felt relief. It was good to get the first call, but he knew that from now until they rendezvoused he would wait impatiently for each check-in and worry like hell when they were a minute late.
During the next two days Yousef made it a point to keep out of his way. He found odd jobs to do and made no further requests of Langers for anything, knowing they would be refused. He was not going to be permitted to leave and that was that.
Langers talked with the rest of the team and, satisfied that each knew his job, left them pretty much to their own devices, cards, and talk of women. But no booze. From now until the job was over they would have a dry camp.
It quickly became a ritual for the men to hang around at check-in time. So far they'd had no problems to slow them down. The weather had been good and the vehicles performed perfectly. They had turned off the road on the Algerian side of the border to avoid the border checkpoint at Guezzam where Sunni Ali was certain to have eyes. They headed cross-country to pass into Niger, then turned back to the south to enter the Tenere depression. They were on time.
Carl was relieved when Monpelier returned with the plane. The only thing he'd been able to do in the last two days was have the men go over the gear, and you could only clean a weapon so many times. The reports from Dominic were the only real entertainment he had.
When Monpelier came back Carl collared him.
'It looks like a go. Dominic will find a place to set down and we'll go in tomorrow.'
Monpelier wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. The day was warming up even here, 5,000 feet above sea level. 'Very good. How have the men been behaving?'
'No problems, but I wouldn't want to keep them locked up here much longer. Did you find out anything else?'
'Yes, but I don't think it's going to please you. Understand that it is just a rumor, but Sunni Ali is supposed to have some kind of motor transport with him. Just what it is I don't know, and I also don't know where it's kept. So once you get the hostages out, don't waste any time. Move out fast.'
'You can bank on it,' Carl answered sourly. 'I'll tell the men that we go in tomorrow morning after we hear from Dominic.'
CHAPTER TEN
The salt flat shimmered. Heat waves rose in undulating crests, creating updrafts on which vultures rode with wide-spread wings. Dominic looked to the skies, checking the time. It should be any minute. To the south, dust devils whirled and rose, dancing across the furnace of heaven. Out on the flat there was even less life. Scorpions and snakes tended to avoid it. Few plants were hardy enough to survive. It was a place as dead as could be found anywhere on the planet.
At the north end the other two heavy-duty Land Rovers waited. Only Dominic stood at the southern end of the flat. He had driven over the landing site, making certain there was no unseen boulder that would burst a tire, no hidden ditch that could cause the plane to crash. He needn't have bothered. The flat was nearly as smooth as tarmac and almost as hard. The team of Land Rovers had spread out to provide security for the landing site. It wasn't likely anyone would be watching them but then again, who could tell. In clear, dry air, visibility was nearly unlimited. A man twenty miles away with sharp eyes could have focused on them.
The trip had been long, hot, and difficult over trails that even goats would avoid. Several times they'd had to stop to either pull one of the vehicles out of a sand trap or use the strips of perforated steel plating they had brought with them to dig down under the tires and pull themselves out.
Dominic would have liked to take his shirt off but that would have been foolish. His tender skin would have developed second-degree burns in a matter of minutes. The glare of the salt flats was eye piercing and the sun was only reflected and amplified by its whiteness.
His body tried to cool itself by sweating; it did no good. As soon as moisture appeared on his lips or face it was gone, evaporated. The sweat that reached his shirt lasted little longer. When it was gone it left white streaks from his own body salts soaked into the material.
Dominic put on dark glasses to ease the strain under the brim of his hat. He liked the desert; it felt good. The aching white was a comfort. For many the silence that could come to the barren lands was maddening. Not for him. It felt good. Clean.
He felt better now that he was going to work. That was what he needed, and the desert was a good place for killing. And for dying. It had been too long since he was operational. He knew that something had started to go wrong with him in Indochina at Dien Bien Phu. A need to fight, not just kill, though that was an important part of it. Even his strong desire for women had diminished. Though he still enjoyed a little ass, it didn't have the same satisfaction to it unless he had been in battle. He knew that Carl and Gus were worried about him. But there was no need for such concern. He would not last much longer. Like Carl and Gus, he too had known men like himself who had become infected with the same disease he now carried in his soul. They had all died sooner than their compatriots. And it was almost always a violent death.
He laughed out loud. The sound startled him; it was so unnatural in this place of silence. Maybe he would die this time. The thought of his own termination didn't upset Dominic at all. It gave him only a vague feeling of curiosity as to what would come next, if anything. Either way it didn't matter. He didn't matter anymore. He was like the others with the death sickness. He was just waiting, waiting for a time and place to die… One more check of his watch. It was time to try and make contact. Getting on the radio he adjusted the squelch, set the frequency, and hit the talk button.
'Silver. This is Gold. Do you read me? Over.'' Only static responded. He fine-tuned the frequency and turned up the volume.
'Silver, this is Gold. Do you read me? Over.'' This time the response was a welcome voice, crackling a bit, requiring him to adjust the squelch.
'Roger that, Gold. This is Silver. We are on our approach. How is it there?'
'Wind from the south about ten to fifteen. The deck is clear. Come on in, the party's waiting.'
'Roger on that, Gold. Wind from the south ten to fifteen. Party is ready to play. Should be on the deck in ten. Do you roger that? Over.'
'Roger, on deck in ten. Out.'
Switching channels he spoke to the rest of the crew, reaching them on the walkie-talkies. 'Okay out there, keep your eyes and ears open. Silver is coming in. Let's not get careless. Keep your eyes off the strip and on the
