shell into the engine room and they would all be blown into unidentifiable morsels for the fish.
He was so close to the gunboat now, if he had looked, he could have read the orange dial of his old Doxa dive watch from the muzzle flashes.
He cranked the wheel savagely, swerving the riddled yacht around the gunboat's bow with less than 2 meters to spare. And then he was past, the avalanching slab of water from the sport yacht's wash pitching the gunboat into a rolling motion that threw off the aim of the gunners and sent their shells whistling harmlessly into the night.
And then, quite suddenly, the continuous blast from the gunboat's cannon stopped. Pitt did not bother to fathom the reason for the reprieve. He maintained a zigzag course until the gunboat was left far behind in the darkness. Only when he was sure they were in the clear and the still functioning radar unit showed no indication of attacking aircraft did he relax and exhale his breath in welcome relief.
Giordino appeared beside him, concern on his face. 'You okay?'
'Mad at myself for playing a sucker. How about you and Rudi?'
'A few bruises from being thrown around by your lousy driving. Rudi received a nasty knot on his head when he was knocked flat during a hard turn, but it hasn't stopped him from fighting the fire in the bow.'
'He's a tough little guy.'
Giordino raised a flashlight and shined it on Pitt's face. 'Did you know you have a piece of glass sticking out of your ugly mug?'
Pitt raised one hand from the wheel and tenderly touched a small piece of glass from a gauge that was embedded in his cheek. 'You can see it better than I can. Pull it out.'
Giordino slipped the butt end of the flashlight between his teeth, pointed the beam at Pitt's wound, and gently took hold of the glass shard between his forefinger and thumb. Then with a quick jerk, he yanked it free. 'Bigger than I thought,' he commented offhandedly. He threw the glass overboard and retrieved a first aid kit from a cockpit cabinet. Three stitches and a bandage later, while Pitt kept his eyes on the instruments and the river, Giordino stood back and admired his handiwork. 'There you go. Another brilliant operation in the continuing saga of Dr. Albert Giordino, desert surgeon.'
'What's your next great moment in medicine?' Pitt asked as he spied a dim yellow glow from a lantern and slewed the Calliope into a wide arc, just missing a pinnace sailing in the dark.
'Why, presenting the bill, of course.'
'I'll mail you a check.'
Gunn appeared from below, holding a cube of ice against a blossoming bump on the back of his head. 'It's going to break the Admiral's heart when he hears what we did to his boat.'
'Down deep, I don't think he ever expected to see her again,' Giordino prophesied.
'Fire out?' Pitt asked Gunn.
'Still smoldering, but I'll give it another shot from an extinguisher after I breathe the smoke out of my lungs.'
'Any leaks below?'
Gunn shook his head. 'Most of the hits we took were topside. None below the waterline. The bilge is dry.'
'Are the aircraft still in the neighborhood? The radar only shows one.'
Giordino tilted his head at the sky. 'The big one is still giving us the eye,' he confirmed. 'Too dark to make out the fighters, and they're out of earshot, but my old bones tell me they're hanging around.'
'How far to Gao?' asked Gunn.
'About 75 or 80 kilometers,' Pitt estimated. 'Even at this speed we won't see the city's lights for another hour or more.'
'Providing those characters up there leave us alone,' Giordino said, his voice raised two octaves to overcome the wind and exhaust.
Gunn pointed to the portable radio that rested on a counter shelf. 'Might help if we strung them along.'
Pitt smiled in the darkness. 'Yes, I think it's time we take calls.'
'Why not?' Giordino went along. 'I'm curious to hear what they have to say.'
'Talking to them might buy us the time we need to reach Gao,' advised Gunn. 'We've a fair way to go.'
Pitt turned the helm over to Giordino, tuned up the volume on the portable radio's speaker so they could all hear above the roar, and spoke into the mouthpiece. 'Good evening,' he answered pleasantly. 'How may I help you?'
There was a short pause. Then a voice replied in French.
'I hate this,' muttered Giordino.
Pitt stared up at the plane as he spoke. 'Non parley vous francais.'
Gunn wrinkled his brows. 'Do you know what you said?'
Pitt looked at him innocently. 'I informed him I can't speak French.'
'Vous is you,' Gunn lectured him. 'You just told him, he can't speak French.'
'Whoever he is will get the drift.'
The voice crackled through the speaker again. 'I understand English.'
'That's helpful,' Pitt replied. 'Go ahead.'
'Identify yourself.'
'You first.'
'Very well, I am General Zateb Kazim, Chief of the Mali Supreme Military Council.'
At the reply Pitt turned and looked at Giordino and Gunn. 'The big man himself.'
'I've always wanted to be recognized by a celebrity,' Giordino said with heavy sarcasm. 'Never thought it would happen in the middle of nowhere.'
'Identify yourself,' Kazim repeated. 'Are you commanding an American vessel?'
'Edward Teach, Captain of the Queen Anne's Revenge.'
'I attended university at Princeton,' Kazim replied dryly. 'I am quite familiar with Blackbeard the pirate. Please cease with the satire and surrender your ship.'
'And if I have other plans?'
'You and your crew will be destroyed by Malian Air Force fighter-bombers.'
'If they don't shoot any better than your navy gunboats,' Pitt needled Kazim, 'we haven't a care in the world.'
'Do not toy with me,' Kazim said, his tone suddenly viperous. 'Who are you, and what are you doing in my country?'
'You might say we're down-home folks on a little fishing trip.'
'Stop and surrender your vessel immediately!' Kazim spat.
No, I don't think I will,' Pitt answered cavalierly.
'You and your crew will surely die if you do not.'
'Then you will lose a boat like no other in the world. A one of a kind. I assume you have an idea of what she's capable of.'
There was a long silence, and Pitt knew that his long shot had struck home.
'I've read the reports of your little altercation with my late friend, Admiral Matabu. I am fully versed on your boat's firepower.'
'Then you know we could have blasted your gunboat to the bottom of the river.'
'I regret that they fired on you against my orders.'
'We can also knock your lumbering command plane out of the sky,' Pitt bluffed.
Kazim was not mentally deficient. He had already considered that event. 'I die, you die. What is the percentage in that?'
'Give me some time to think that over, say until we reach Gao.'
'I'm a generous man,' Kazim said with unaccustomed patience. 'But at Gao you will cease headway and bring your boat alongside the city's ferry dock. If you persist in your foolish attempt to escape, my air force will put you in infidel hell.'
