'Stovepipe Wells, next stop,' Sam Jackson announced to the others in the limousine.
'Afraid not,' Boering said. He pulled the long car off the road and, for the first time, turned on the car's CB radio.
'This is Swimmer on the beach,' he said. 'This is Swimmer on the beach.' His voice took on a clipped quality. He called about once a minute. After the third call he was greeted by a reply.
'Swimmer, this is Lifeguard,' came a voice with a Georgian drawl. 'Swimmer, this is Lifeguard. What's the trouble?'
'I've got five survivors. Send the lifeboats.'
'This was not part of the plan,' the man at the other end crackled. Anger gripped the voice.
'Just send the lifeboats. Argue later.'
'Ten four,' came the acknowledgment.
Lightning Sam Jackson looked at his watch. It was just past 11:30 P.M. At 11:43 he heard the roar of dune buggies over the desert. Suddenly he saw them sweeping over the nearest dune. Three had extra motors and propellers on the back. They looked like something out of a science-fiction movie.
The athletes rumbled.
'What the hell's going on?' Zak Wilson asked. 'Where you taking us?'
But their fears were quickly quelled by the smooth-talking Boering, who assured them that he was just taking another necessary step to get them out of the country.
On the trip to the dunes, the three props brought up the rear, the prop wash obliterating all signs of a trail. The buggies arrived at a camp in the dunes. Camouflage netting covered sand buggies and nearly buried tents. Jackson pulled something from his pocket, fiddled with it, then tossed it into the sand.
As they climbed from the buggies they were met by a tough-looking blond man. The man looked at Boering and then at the athletes.
'They're not in handcuffs,' he stated.
'Put them somewhere for now,' Boering said. 'We can't talk here.'
The leader whistled and four older men materialized, pointing guns at the athletes.
'Put them in with the other guests,' the leader ordered.
'Hey! Why the guns?' Helen demanded. 'We're here voluntarily. We're not your prisoners.'
One of the guards tapped her on the head with the barrel of his automatic.
'Shut up, nigger,' he said.
'No need for that,' Boering snapped. He turned to the U.S. athletes. 'It's just a security precaution. Please go along with it. We'll be here just a very short time.'
The athletes looked at one another, but said nothing. They were herded into a large tent that was almost buried in sand.
Boering and the blond leader went over by the vehicles where they could talk in private.
'What the hell are you trying to pull?' the man said.
'Easy, Ditch. We have our black defectors. Everything is going well. The problem is that they insisted on leaving before the Games, not after. What could I do?'
'Don't you ever call me Hitch,' the man replied. 'I've been Bill Frazer for nine years. I'll remain Bill Frazer until I return to the homeland.'
'Touchy,' Boering noted aloud.
'You know stage two of this operation. What good will a bunch of dead American athletes do us?''
'None,' Boering said. 'They must be evacuated before blood time.'
'And how are you going to accomplish that miracle?'
'It won't be hard, Bill. We have a ship standing by just outside territorial waters. There's a copter aboard, of course. I ordered it to arrive here at three. Load the Americans onto it and they'll be out of your hair.'
'But they now know about the Zambians.'
'So? When they read in the papers about the way the Americans came in here and shot up everybody, we'll have them hating their homeland. They will be much more verbal against America. It will be better than we could hope.'
'I don't like it,' the leader muttered. 'Do you realize that if anyone was searching for the Zambians, or following the Americans, you will have led them right here?'
'I covered my steps and took all possible precautions. No one followed us here. If they find us, it'll be too late. We will have left by the time they track us down.'
'Be damn careful what you say in front of the Klansmen,' the leader warned. 'If they find out these athletes are Americans leaving the U.S., we'll have nothing more than dead black meat to send on to Mother Russia.'
'I'll watch my tongue, but you make sure nothing like that happens. That would sink this operation.''
The blond-haired mole nodded. He did not need to be reminded that a sunk operation usually ended with a bullet to the head.
'I'm going back to Los Angeles now,' Boering said. 'I wouldn't want anyone to miss me. Just get those Americans on that copter when it lands. It will need instructions. You have the frequency?'
Ilitch nodded.
It was dark inside the tent. The American athletes could not make out the new surroundings they had been placed in. They took small, tentative steps and encountered bodies stretched out on all sides. They were barely in the tent, but could find no space to move.
'Anyone alive in here?' Sam Jackson asked, almost afraid of the answer.
'That you, Sam?' a tentative female voice answered.
'Kelly?' Sam asked.
'Yeah, it's me,' she replied.
'Who's with you?' asked a rumbling voice from close to Kelly.
'A few buddies,' Sam said. 'No gunmen, relax. Is that you, Mustav?'
'Got that one right, little man.'
'Make room for these people,' Mustav ordered. 'And let's sing a hymn of rejoicing for our brothers — sing it just loud enough that those outside cannot hear our conversation.'
There was a great deal of shuffling and shifting. It was like a small reunion of friends, many of whom had not seen one another since the international meet at Montreal.
Kelly, Sam and Mustav put their heads close together so they could hear one another's voices over the singing.
Kelly asked if Jackson knew anything about Babette.
'She's okay,' Jackson said. The boxer then got down to business.
'Some blond guy sent us out here to find you.'
'What are you talking about?' a relieved Kelly asked.
'Some blond-haired guy. I don't really know who he is. He's got something to do with Olympic security and I heard some guys — two guys he hangs around with — call him Lyons. I'll tell you, he's one mean mother. I wouldn't want him against me.'
'Sounds like one of the guys I met at the airport,' Kelly said.
'He was definitely at the airport with you,' Jackson said. 'He told us about you getting on the bus after you spotted something strange coming down.''
'I knew something weird was happening and I wanted to be with Mustav, but I sure didn't figure they were going to start gunning at people.'
'Anyway,' Sam said, 'seems you forgot to throw bread crumbs out the window so this Lyons could follow you. So he got us to find you.'
'How'd you do that?' Kelly asked.
'We defected — as much as an American can defect. It was Lyons's idea. We told Boering we'd leave the U.S. but only if he could get us out immediately. We put as much pressure on him as possible. He went for it. Lyons figured he wouldn't be able to get us out right away so he said the bastard would bring us here as a stopover. Now
