Sahara

    'How did you know my name and where to find me?'

    'Admiral James Sandecker received a communication from someone called Dirk Pitt saying you were hiding near the airport, and that it was urgent you be evacuated.'

    'The Admiral sent you?'

    'With the approval of the Secretary General,' replied Levant. 'How do I know you're Rudi Gunn?'

    Gunn gestured around the desolation in the surrounding countryside. 'How in hell many Rudi Gunns do you think just happened to be roaming around this part of the desert waiting for your beck and call?'

    'You have no papers, no proof of identity?'

    'My personal documents are probably on the bottom of the Niger River. You'll just have to trust me.'

    Levant passed the bullhorn to an aide and nodded toward the aircraft. 'Recall and board,' he ordered tersely. He turned back to Gunn and regarded him with a marked lack of cordiality. 'Step into the plane, Mr. Gunn. We have no more time to waste in idle conversation.'

    'Where are you taking me?'

    Levant threw a glance of irritation at the sky and said, 'To Paris. From there you will be flown to Washington by Concorde where a number of very important people are anxiously waiting to debrief you. That is all you're required to know. Now please move along. Time is crucial.'

    'What's the rush?' Gunn demanded. 'You've obviously destroyed their air force.'

    'Only one squadron I fear. There are three others based around the capital city at Bamako. Once alerted they can still intercept us before we escape Malian air space.'

    The armed dune buggy had already driven on board and was quickly followed by the ground forces. The flight attendant who had bravely cut the control tower cables took Gunn by the arm and hustled him up the boarding ramp.

    'We don't have a first-class cabin with gourmet meals and champagne, Mr. Gunn,' she said brightly. 'But we do have cold beer and bologna sandwiches.'

    'You don't know how good that sounds,' Gunn smiled.

    He should have felt a great surge of relief as he climbed the boarding stairs, but suddenly he was swept by a wave of anguish. Thanks to Pitt and Giordino he was safely escaping to freedom. They had sacrificed to save him. How on heaven's earth did they ever manage to find a radio and contact Sandecker, he wondered.

    They were mad to stay behind in that scorched land, he thought. Their commitment to finding the contamination was madness. Kazim would unleash his entire security force to hunt them down. If the desert didn't devour them, the Malians would.

    He hesitated before entering the aircraft, turned, and gazed out over the ugly vastness of sand and rock. From his elevated position he could clearly see the Niger River, little more than a kilometer to the west.

    Where were they now? What was their situation?

    He tore himself from the sight and entered the cabin, the air-conditioned air striking his sweating body like a breaking wave. His eyes were smarting as the aircraft lifted off the runway past the flaming jet fighters.

    Colonel Levant sat in the seat next to Gunn and studied the sorrowful expression. He searched Gunn's eyes for understanding, but found none. 'You don't seem happy to be getting out of this mess.'

    Gunn stared out the window. 'Just thinking of the men I left behind.'

    'Pitt and Giordino, they were good friends?'

    'For many years.'

    'Why didn't they come with you?' asked Levant.

    'They had a job to finish.'

    Levant shook his head, uncomprehending. 'They are either very brave men or very stupid.'

    'Not stupid,' said Gunn. 'Not stupid at all.' 'They will surely end up in hell.' 'You don't know them.' Only then did Gunn force a grin. 'If anyone can enter hell and walk out again carrying a glass of tequila over ice,' he said with renewed confidence, 'it's Dirk Pitt.'

    Six elite soldiers of General Kazim's personal bodyguard force snapped to attention as Massarde stepped from his launch to the dock. A Major stepped forward and saluted. 'Monsieur Massarde?'

    'What is it?'

    'General Kazim has asked that I escort you to him immediately.'

    'Did he know my presence is required at Fort Foureau and I do not wish to have my schedule interrupted?'

    Politely the Major bowed. 'I believe his request for a meeting with you is quite urgent.'

    Massarde gave a Gallic shrug of annoyance and motioned for the Major to lead. 'After you.'

    The Major nodded and gave a curt order to a sergeant. Then he walked over the worn and bleached dock planking toward a large warehouse that bordered the dock. Massarde duly followed in the Major's footsteps, surrounded by the security guard.

    'Please, this way,' the Major said, gesturing around the corner of the warehouse while stepping into a small side alley.

    There, under heavy security by armed guards, stood a Mercedes-Benz truck and trailer that was General Kazim's private mobile command and living quarters. Massarde was ushered up steps and through a door that immediately closed behind him.

    'General Kazim is in his office,' said the Major, opening another door and standing aside. The interior of the office felt like an Arctic ice floe after the heat outside. Kazim must have kept the air conditioning running at full blast, Massarde surmised. Curtains were drawn over bulletproof windows and he stood motionless for a moment waiting for his eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight.

    'Come in, Yves, sit down,' Kazim called from a desk as he replaced the receiver from one of four telephones.

    Massarde smiled and remained standing. 'Why so many guards? Do you expect an assassination?'

    Kazim smiled back. 'In light of the events of the past few hours, extra security seems a valid precaution.'

    'Have you found my helicopter?' Massarde asked directly.

    'Not yet.'

    'How can you lose a helicopter in the desert? It only had enough fuel for half an hour's flight.'

    'It appears the two Americans you allowed to escape-'

    'My houseboat is not equipped to contain prisoners,' Massarde snapped. 'You should have taken them off my hands when you had the chance.'

    Kazim stared directly at him. 'Be that as it may, my friend, mistakes were made. It appears that after the NUMA agents stole your helicopter, they flew to Bourem where I have reason to believe they sank it in the river, walked to the village, and then stole my car.'

    'Your old Voisin?' Massarde pronounced it Vahsaan.

    'Yes,' Kazim acknowledged through taut lips. 'The American scum made off with my rare, classic car.'

    'And you haven't found it or apprehended them yet?'

    'No.'

    Massarde finally sat down, anger at losing his aircraft mixed with delight over the theft of Kazim's precious automobile. 'What of their rendezvous with a helicopter south of Gao?'

    'Much to my regret, I fell for their lie. The force I positioned in ambush 20 kilometers to the south waited in vain, and my radar field units detected no sign of aircraft. They came instead to the Gao airport in a commercial airliner.'

    'Why weren't you alerted?'

    'It did not appear to be a security matter,' Kazim answered. 'Only an hour before sunrise, Air Afrique officials in Gao were notified that one of their aircraft was making an unscheduled landing so a group of tourists could visit the city and take a short cruise on the river.'

    'The airline officials believed it?' asked Massarde incredulously.

    'And why not. They routinely asked for confirmation from company headquarters in Algiers and received it.'

    'Then what happened?'

    'According to the airport controller and the ground crew, the aircraft, flying the markings of Air Afrique,