Sahara

    'A possibility worth pursuing,' Grimes admitted. 'We've been concentrating in the dampest and most inhabited regions of the country because it follows suit they would carry the highest incidence of disease and contamination.'

    'Where do we go from here?' asked Eva.

    'Back to Timbuktu,' said Hopper firmly. 'Did you notice the look on people we interviewed before setting out to the south? They were nervous and worried. You could see it in their faces. It's just possible they were threatened to keep silent.'

    'Especially the Tuaregs from the desert,' recalled Grimes.

    'You mean especially their women and children,' Eva added. 'They refused to be examined.'

    Hopper shook his head. 'I'm to blame. I made the decision to turn our backs on the desert. It was a mistake. I know that now.'

    'You're a scientist, not a psychic investigator,' Grimes consoled him.

    'Yes,' Hopper agreed readily. 'I'm a scientist, but I hate being made the fool.'

    'The tip-off we all missed,' said Eva, 'was the patronizing attitude of Captain Batutta.'

    Grimes looked at her. 'That's right. Oh-ho. You've struck oil again, my girl. Now that you've brought it up, Batutta has been downright servile with cooperation.'

    'True,' Hopper nodded. 'He's leaned over backward in allowing us to go our merry way, knowing we were hundreds of kilometers off the scent.'

    Grimes finished off his soda water. 'Be interesting to see the look on his face when you tell him we're going out in the desert and start from scratch.'

    'He'll be on the radio to Colonel Mansa before I get the words out of my mouth.'

    'We could lie,' said Eva.

    'Lie, for what reason?' asked Hopper.

'To throw him off, to throw them all off our trail.'

    'I'm listening.'

    'Tell Batutta the project is finished. Tell him we've found no sign of contamination and are returning to Timbuktu, folding up our tents and flying home.'

    'You've missed me. Where is this leading?'

    'For all appearances the team has quit, given up,' Eva explained. 'Batutta waves a relieved farewell as we take off. Only we don't fly to Cairo. We land in the desert and set up shop again on our own without a watchdog.'

    The two men took a few seconds to absorb Eva's scheme. Hopper leaned forward, intently mulling it over. Grimes looked as if someone asked him to catch the next rocket to the moon.

    'It's no good,' Grimes said at last, almost apologetically. 'You can't just land a jet aircraft in the middle of the desert. You need a runway at least 1000 meters long.'

    'There are any number of areas in the Sahara where the ground is perfectly flat for hundreds of kilometers,' Eva argued.

    'Too risky,' Grimes said stubbornly. 'If Kazim got wind of it, we'd pay dearly.'

    Eva looked sharply at Grimes, then more slowly at Hopper. She detected the beginnings of a smile on Hopper's face. 'It is possible,' she said firmly.

    'Anything is possible, but often not practical.'

    Hopper smashed his fist down on the arm of his camp chair so hard he nearly broke it. 'By God, I think it's worth a go.'

    Grimes stared at him. 'You can't be bloody serious?'

    'Oh but I am. Our pilot and flight crew will have the final say, of course. But with the proper incentive, like a hefty bonus, I think they can be persuaded to risk it.'

    'You're forgetting something,' said Grimes.

    'Such as?'

    'What do we use for transportation after we land?'

    Eva tilted her head toward the small Mercedes four-wheel-drive car with an enclosed truckbed that had been provided by Colonel Mansa in Timbuktu. 'The little Mercedes should just fit through the cargo door.'

    'That's 2 meters off the ground,' said Grimes. 'How are you going to lift it on board?'

    'We'll use ramps and drive it on,' Hopper said jovially.

    'You'll have to do it under Batutta's nose.'

    'Not an insurmountable problem.'

    'The vehicle belongs to the Malian military. How will you account for it gone missing?'

    'A mere technicality,' Hopper shrugged. 'Colonel Mansa will be told a thieving nomad stole it.'

    'This is crazy,' Grimes announced.

    Hopper suddenly stood. 'Then it's settled. We'll launch our little charade first thing in the morning. Eva, I'll leave it to you to inform our fellow scientists of the plan. I'll hang out with Batutta and throw off suspicion by bemoaning our failure.'

    'Speaking of our keeper,' said Eva, glancing about the camp, 'where is he hiding?'

    'In that fancy recreation vehicle with the communications equipment,' replied Grimes. 'He practically lives in there.'

    'Strange that he conveniently, for us at any rate, wanders off whenever we're gathered in discussion.'

    'Damned courteous of him, I say.' Grimes stood and stretched his arms over his head. He furtively stared at the communications vehicle, and not sighting Batutta, sat down again. 'No sign of him. He's probably sitting inside watching European music shows on the telly.'

    'Or on the radio giving Colonel Mansa the latest gossip on our scientific circus,' said Eva.

    'He can't have much to report,' laughed Hopper. 'He never hangs around long enough to see what mischief we're into.'

    Captain Batutta was not reporting to his superior, not at the moment. He was sitting inside his truck listening through stereo headphones wired to an extremely sensitive electronic listening device. The amplifier was mounted on the roof of the truck and aimed toward the camp stove in the middle of the parked caravan. He leaned forward and adjusted the bionic booster, increasing the receiving surface.

    Every word spoken by Eva and her two associates, every murmur and whisper, came through without the slightest distortion and was recorded. Batutta listened until the conversation ended and the trio split up, Eva to brief the rest of the team on the new plot, Hopper and Grimes to study maps of the desert.

    Batutta picked up a phone uplink to a joint African nation communications satellite and dialed a number. A voice half a breath from a yawn answered.

    'Security Headquarters, Gao District.'

    'Captain Batutta for Colonel Mansa.'

    'One moment, sir,' the voice said hastily.

    It took almost five minutes before Mansa's voice came over the receiver. 'Yes, Captain.'

    'The UN scientists are planning a diversion.'

    'What kind of a diversion?'

    'They are about to report they have turned up no trace of contamination or its victims-'

    'General Kazim's brilliant plan to keep them out of the contaminated areas has been successful,' Mansa interrupted him.

    'Until now,' said Batutta. 'But they have begun to see through the General's ploy. Dr. Hopper intends to announce the closing down of the project, then lead his people back to Timbuktu where they will depart in their chartered aircraft for Cairo.'

    'The General will be most pleased.'

    'Not when he learns Hopper has no intention of leaving Mali.'

    'What are you saying?' demanded Mansa.

    'Their plan is to bribe the pilots to set the plane down in the desert and launch a new investigation into our nomadic villages for the contamination.'

    Mansa's mouth suddenly felt as if it was filled with sand. 'This could prove to be disastrous. The General will be most angry when he hears of it.'