Sahara

    'We're halfway home,' said Giordino coldly.

    'As to my wealth, don't waste your breath. What's mine is mine. But you're right about it being on an island in the Pacific. You and a million other people could search a thousand years and never find it.'

    Pitt turned to Brunone. 'Captain, we still have a few hours of afternoon heat left. Please gag Mr. Massarde and remove his clothes. Then spread-eagle and stake him to the ground, and leave him.'

    That jolted Massarde badly. He could not comprehend being treated as brutally as he had treated others. 'You cannot do this to Yves Massarde,' he said savagely. 'By God, you're not--'

    His words were broken off as Pitt backhanded him across the face. 'Tit for tat, pal. Except you're lucky fm not wearing a ring.'

    Massarde said nothing. For a few moments he stood there motionless, his face masked in hate and turning white from the beginning sensations of fear. He looked at Pitt and saw there was no reprieve, because there was an emotionless coldness about the American, an utter lack of compassion that negated the slightest possibility of escaping the ordeal. Slowly he removed his clothes until he stood white-skinned and naked.

    'Captain Brunone,' said Pitt. 'Do your duty.'

    'With pleasure, sir,' replied Brunone with obvious relish.

    After Massarde was gagged and securely staked on the baked ground outside the administration building under the merciless Sahara sun, Pitt nodded to Giordino. 'Convey my thanks to the men in the chopper and send them back to Colonel Hargrove.'

    Upon receiving the message, the pilot of the chopper waved and dipped his craft toward the battlefield. Now they were alone with their own creative devices, relying on an enormous amount of bluff.

    Giordino looked down at Massarde and then at Pitt with a curious glint in his eyes. 'Why the gag?' he asked.

    Pitt smiled. 'If it was you roasting in the sun out there, how much would you offer Brunone and his men to escape?'

    'A couple of million bucks or more.' answered Giordino, admiring Pitt's finesse.

    'Probably more.'

    'Do you honestly believe he's going to talk?'

    Pitt shook his head. 'No, Massarde will suffer tire tortures of the damned and go to hell before revealing where he's hidden his wealth.'

    'But if he won't tell you, who will?'

    'His closest friend and confidant,' said Pitt, gesturing at Verenne.

    'Damn you, I don't know!' Verenne's voice was a despairing shout.

    'Oh I think you do, maybe not the exact location, but I think you could put us within spitting distance.'

    The shift of his eyes, the fearful expression was evidence enough that Verenne knew the secret. 'I wouldn't tell you anything if I could.'

    'Al, while I take advantage of Massarde's fancy quarters and clean up, why don't you escort our friend to an empty office and persuade him to sketch out a map to Massarde's private money vault.'

    'Sounds good to me,' Giordino said casually. 'I haven't drilled any teeth for nearly a week.'

    Almost two hours later, after a shower and short nap, Pitt felt almost human again; the biting soreness from his wounds was almost bearable. He was seated at Massarde's desk in a silk robe at least two sizes too small that he'd found in a closet containing enough clothes to open a men's store. He was probing through the drawers of the desk, studying the Frenchman's papers and files when Giordino walked through the door, pushing a white-faced Verenne in front of him.

    'You two have a nice chat?' asked Pitt.

    'Amazing what a great conversationalist he can be in the right company,' Giordino acknowledged.

    Verenne looked around through wild unfocused eyes that seemed to have lost all contact with reality. He slowly moved his head from side to side as if he was clearing away a mist. He looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

    Pitt studied Verenne curiously. 'What did you do to him?' he inquired of, Giordino. 'There isn't a mark on him.'

    'Like I said, we had a nice chat. I spent the time describing in vivid detail how I was going to dismember him millimeter by millimeter.'

    'That's all?'

    'He has a great imagination. I never had to lay a hand on him.'

    'Did he pinpoint Massarde's island cache?'

    'You had the right idea about it being owned by the French, but it's almost 5000 kilometers northeast of Tahiti and 2000 southwest of Mexico. Truly the backside of beyond.'

    'I don't know of a French island in the Pacific off Mexico.'

    'In 1979, France assumed direct administration of an atoll named Clipperton Island after the English pirate John Clipperton, who used it as a lair in 1705. According to Verenne, its land mass is only about 5 square kilometers with a 21-meter promontory as its highest point.'

    'Any habitants?'

    Giordino shook his head. 'Not unless you count a few wild pigs. Verenne says the only remnant of human activity is an abandoned lighthouse from the eighteenth century.'

    'A lighthouse,' Pitt turned the word over slowly. 'Only a slick, wily pirate like Massarde would think of hiding a treasure near a lighthouse on an uninhabited island in the middle of an ocean.'

    'Verenne claims he doesn't know the exact spot.'

    'Whenever Mr. Massarde anchored his yacht off the island,' murmured Verenne, 'he always took a boat ashore alone, and only at night so no one could observe his movements.'

    Pitt looked at Giordino. 'Think he's telling the truth?'

    'I am, I swear to God!' Verenne implored.

    'Could be he's just a natural-born storyteller,' said Giordino.

    'I told the truth.' His voice came like the pleas of a child. 'Oh God, I don't want to be tortured. I can't stand pain.'

    Giordino stared at Verenne fox-like. 'Or then again, he might be a naturally gifted actor.'

    Verenne looked stricken. 'What can I do to make you believe me?'

    'I'll be convinced when you inform on your boss. Supply his records, names, and dates of his victims, every filthy business deal he ever created, expose the guts of his entire rotten organization.'

    'I do that and he'll have me killed,' Verenne croaked in a frightened whisper.

    'He'll never touch you.'

    'Oh yes he can. You don't know the power he wields.'

    'I think I have an idea.'

    'He won't hurt you half as much as I will,' said Giordino menacingly.

    Verenne sank into a chair, stared at Giordino with a sweat-moistened face, with fear-widened eyes that carried the faintest flicker of hope as he turned and trained them on Pitt. These men had stripped his chief of all dignity, of all arrogance. If there was a chance of saving his life, he knew he had to choose.

    'I'll do as you ask,' he moaned softly.

    'Let me hear it again,' Pitt demanded.

    'All records and information on Massarde Enterprises, I will turn them over to you for investigation.'

    'That includes unrecorded records on illegal and immoral activities as well.'

    'I will supply what isn't on paper or computerized.'

    There was a brief silence. Pitt stared out the window at Massarde. Even at that distance he could see the white skin had turned a deep red. He rose stiffly from behind the desk and put a hand on Giordino's shoulder.

    'Al, he's your project. Extract every shred of evidence out of him you can.'

    Giordino put his arm around Verenne, who cringed. 'We'll have a real friendly rap session you and I'

    'Work on the names of the people Massarde victimized or murdered. Those first.'

    'Any particular reason?' Giordino asked curiously.

    'When the time is right for a voyage to Clipperton Island and a search proves successful, I'd like to set up an organization to use Massarde's stashed wealth to pay back those he hurt and the surviving families of those he