'You're a lucky man. None of the bullets struck a bone, internal organ or artery. I stitched up your leg and neck, or, more accurately, your trapezius muscle. Also your cheek. Plastic surgery should hide the scar, unless of course your women find it adds to your sex appeal. The smack on your head caused a concussion. X-rays showed no sign of a hairline fracture. My prognosis is that you'll be swimming the English Channel and playing the violin within months.'
Pitt laughed. Almost immediately he tensed as the pain struck from every side. Webster's look became one of quick concern.
'I am sorry. My bedside manner tends to get a bit too jolly, I'm afraid.'
Pin relaxed and the agony soon subsided. He loved English phrasing and humor. They were a class act, he thought. He smiled grimly and stared at Webster with unconcealed respect. He knew the doctor had down played his skill and labors out of modesty.
'If that hurt,' said Pitt, 'I can't wait to get your bill.'
It was Webster's turn to laugh. 'Careful, I wouldn't want you to ruin my beautiful needlework.'
Pitt gingerly eased himself to a sitting position and held out his hand.
'I'm grateful for what you did for the four of us.'
Webster rose and shook Pitts outstretched hand. 'An honor doctoring you, Mr. Pitt. I'll take my leave now. It seems you're the man of the hour. I think you have some distinguished visitors gathering outside.'
'Goodbye, Doc, and thank you.'
Webster gave a willk and a nod. Then he walked over to the door, opened it and motioned everyone inside.
Senator Pitt entered followed by Hala, Colonel Hollis and Captain Collins. The men shook hands, but Hala leaned down and lightly kissed Pitt.
'I hope you've found our ship's service satisfactory,' said Captain Collins jovially.
'No man ever recuperated in a fancier hospital,' Pitt replied. 'I'm only sorry I can't bask in such luxury for another month.'
'Unfortunately, your presence is required up north by tomorrow,' said Hollis.
'Oh, no,' Pitt moaned.
'Oh, yes,' said the Senator, holding up his watch. 'The Sounder will be towing us into dock at Punta Arenas in another ninety minutes. An Air Force transport is waiting to fly you and Ms. Kaniil and me to Washington.'
Pitt made a helpless gesture with both hands. 'So much for my luxury cruise.'
Next came the usual round of solicitous questions concerning his condition. After a few minutes Hollis turned the conversation to his current problem.
'Would you know Ammar if you saw him again?' he asked Pitt.
'I could pick him out of a lineup easily enough. Didn't you find him? I gave you a detailed description of his height, weight and looks before Doc Webster knocked me out.'
Hollis handed him a small stack of photos. 'Here are pictures taken and processed by the ship's photographer of the hijackers' bodies, including those taken prisoner. Do you see Suleiman Aziz Ammar among them?'
Pitt slowly sifted through the photographs, studying the closeup features of the dead. They had seemed faceless during the battle, he recalled. He wondered with morbid curiosity which ones were dead by his hands. Finally he looked up and shook his head.
'He's not in here among the living or the dead.'
'You're sure?' asked Hollis. 'The wounds and deathlike expressions can badly alter facial features.'
'I stood closer to him than I am to you under conditions that aren't easily forgotten. Believe me, Colonel, when I say Ammar isn't among those pictures.'
Hollis pulled a larger photo from an envelope and passed it to Pitt without comment.
After a few seconds, Pitt gave Hollis a questioning look. 'What do you want me to say?'
'Is that Suleiman Aziz Ammar?'
Pitt handed the photograph back. 'You know damn well it is, or you wouldn't magically produce a picture taken of him at a different time in a different place.'
'I think what Colonel Hollis is holding back,' said Dirk's father, 'is that Anunar or his remains have yet to be found.'
'Then his men must have hidden his body,' Pitt said firmly. 'I didn't miss. He took a shot in the shoulder and two in the face. I saw one of his men drag him to cover after he fell. No way he's running around.'
'It's possible his body was buried,' admitted Hollis. 'An extensive air and land search failed to detect any sign of him on the island.'
'So the fox hasn't been run to ground,' Pitt said softly to himself.
The Senator looked at him. 'What was that?'
'Something Ammar said about a coyote and a fox when we met,' Pitt replied pensively. Then he looked around at his audience. 'I bet he's eluded the net. Anyone care to give me odds?'
Hollis gave Pitt a dark look instead. 'You better hope he's deader than a barracuda in the desert, because if he isn't, the name of Dirk Pitt will head his next hit list.'
Hala swept gracefully to the head of Pitts bed, wearing a gold silk dressing gown with a modernized hieroglyphic design. She placed her hand lightly around his shoulder.
'Dirk is very weak,' she said in an even voice. 'He needs a good meal and rest until it comes time to debark the ship. I suggest we leave him alone for the next hour.'
