Sahara

by Clive Cussler

  "Put her in first class," Pitt smiled at the men. "She's a very special lady."

  "Eva!" a voice thundered from inside the helicopter. Dr. Hopper sat up on a stretcher, a bandage covering half his bare chest and another across one side of his face. "Let us hope this flight has a more enjoyable destination than the last one."

  "Congratulations, Doc," said Pitt. "I'm glad to see you came through."

  "Got four of the beggars before one downed me with a hand grenade."

  "Fairweather?" asked Pitt, not seeing the Britisher.

  Hopper shook his head sadly. "He didn't make it."

  Pitt and Giordino helped the Rangers tie down Eva's stretcher next to Hopper's. Then Pitt brushed her hair back with his hands. "You're in good company with the Doc."

  She looked up at Pitt, wishing with all her heart that he could sweep her into his arms. "You're not coming?"

  "Not this trip."

  "But you need medical care," she protested.

  "I have some unfinished business."

  "You can't stay in Mali," she implored him. "You mustn't, not after all that's happened."

  "Al and I came to West Africa to do a job. It isn't finished yet."

  "Is this the end of us then?" she asked in a choking voice.

  "No, nothing so final."

  "When will I see you again?"

  "Soon, if all goes well," he said sincerely.

  She lifted her head, her eyes gleaming in the sunlight with unshed tears. Then she kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Please hurry."

  Pitt and Giordino stepped back as the helicopter's pilot increased the rpms and the craft lifted off the ground, throwing up a maelstrom of dust inside the fort. They watched the chopper as it rose above the crumpled walls and swung toward the west.

  Then Giordino turned to Pitt and nodded at his injuries. "We'd better get you patched up if you're about to do what I think you want to do."

  Pitt insisted on waiting until all of the more seriously wounded were treated before he allowed a medic to remove the shrapnel from his left arm and shoulder, stitch them up along with the bullet hole in the flesh of his thigh, give him two shots for infection and one for pain, before padding him with bandages. Afterward, he and Giordino bid their goodbyes to Levant and Pembroke-Smythe before the UN officers were airlifted out with the surviving members of the UN team.

  "You're not joining us?" asked Levant.

  "The one who lies behind all this senseless slaughter cannot be allowed to walk away," Pitt answered cryptically.

  "Yves Massarde?"

  Pitt nodded silently.

  "I wish you luck." He shook their hands. "Gentlemen, I can think of little more to say except to thank you for your services."

  "A pleasure, Colonel," said Giordino with a cocky smile. "Call on us anytime."

  "I hope they give you a medal," said Pitt, "and promote you to General. No man deserves it more."

  Levant surveyed the devastation as if searching for something, perhaps envisioning the men of his command who were still buried under the rubble. "I hope the sacrifices endured by both sides were worth the terrible price in lives."

  Pitt shrugged heavily. "Death is paid for by grief and measured only by the depth of the grave."

  Pembroke-Smythe, head high, glorious disdain engraved on his handsome face, was the last to board. "Bloody good sport," he said. "We must all get together and do it again some time,"

  "We can hold a reunion," muttered Giordino sarcastically.

  "If we ever meet in London," said Pembroke-Smythe, unperturbed, "the Dom Perignon is on me. In fact, I'll introduce you to some marvelous girls who oddly find Americans appealing."

  "Will we get a ride in your Bentley?" asked Pitt.

  "How did you know I drove a Bentley?" replied Pembroke-Smythe in mild surprise.

  Pitt grinned. "Somehow it fit."

  They turned away without a backward look as the helicopter carrying the last of the UN Tactical Team soared across the desert toward Mauritania and safety. A young black lieutenant trotted across their path and waved them to a stop.

  "Pardon me, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Giordino?"

  Pitt nodded. "That's us."

  "Colonel Hargrove wants you over at the Malian headquarters across the railroad track."

  Giordino knew better than to offer Pitt a shoulder as his friend limped across the sand, teeth gritted against the pain shooting from his thigh. The opaline eyes never ceased to gleam with determination from a gaunt face partly covered by a bandage.

  The tents making up Kazim's former field headquarters bore desert camouflage markings but were shaped more like stage settings from a production of Kismet. Colonel Hargrove was in the main tent leaning over a table, studying Kazim's military communication codes when they walked inside. A stub of a cigar was pushed between his lips.

  Without greeting, he asked, "Do either of you by chance know what Zateb Kazim looks like?"

  "We've met him," answered Pitt.

  "Could you identify him?"

  "Probably."

  Hargrove straightened and moved through the tent's opening. "Out here." He led them across a short stretch of level ground to a bullet-riddled car. He removed the cigar and spit in the sand. "Recognize any of these clowns?"

  Pitt leaned into the interior of the car. Already hordes of flies were swarming on the blood-coated bodies. He glanced at Giordino who was peering in from the other side. Giordino simply nodded.

  Pitt turned to Hargrove. "The one in the middle is the late General Zateb Kazim."

  "You're sure," Hargrove demanded.

  "Positive," Pitt said firmly.

  "And the others must be high-ranking members of his staff," added Giordino.

  "Congratulations, Colonel. Now all you have to do is inform the Malian government that you have the General in your custody and are holding him as hostage to ensure the safe return of your force to Mauritania."

  Hargrove stared at Pitt. "But the man is a corpse."

  "So who's to know? Certainly not his subordinates in the Malian security forces."

  Hargrove dropped his cigar and ground it into the sand. He looked at the several hundred survivors of Kazim's assault force that were now massed in a large circle and guarded by his American Rangers. "I see no reason why it won't work. I'll have my intelligence officer open communications while we wind up the evacuations."

  "Since you're no longer in a big rush to dash out of here, there is one other thing."

  "That is?" asked Hargrove.

  "A favor."

  "What exactly is it I can do for you?"

  Pitt smiled down at Hargrove who was half a head shorter. "One of your helicopters, Colonel. I'd like to borrow it and several of your best men."

  <<58>>

  After he communicated with high-level Malian officials and threw them the lie he was holding Kazim hostage, Hargrove was convinced no military action would be taken against his evacuating force. He was no longer filled with trepidation and was highly relieved now that the pressure was off the final stage of his rescue mission. He was also quite amused when the puppet president of Mali begged him to execute General Kazim.

  But Hargrove had no intention of loaning his personal Sikorsky H-76 Eagle helicopter, its crew, and six of his Rangers to a pair of smart-ass bureaucrats, certainly not in a combat area. His only concession to Pitt's request was to pass it along to Special Operations Command in Florida over Kazim's captured communications systems, positive his superiors would have a good laugh out of it.

  He was dumbstruck when the request came back almost immediately. Not only was it granted, but it was approved by presidential order.

  Hargrove said acidly to Pitt, "You must have friends in high places."

  "I'm not out for a joyride," Pitt replied, failing to hide the satisfaction in his voice. "You weren't told, but there was far more at stake here than a covert rescue mission."

  "Probably just as well," Hargrove sighed heavily. "How long do you require my men and chopper?"


  "Two hours."

  "And then?"

  "If all goes according to my plan, it will be returned to you, along with your men and crew, in pristine condition."

  "And you and Giordino?"

  "We remain behind."

  "I won't bother asking why," said Hargrove, shaking his head. "This whole operation has been a mystery to me."

  "Ever heard of a military operation that wasn't?" said Pitt seriously. "What you accomplished here today has a ripple effect beyond anything you can imagine"

  Hargrove's eyebrows lifted questioningly. "Think I'll ever know what it is you're talking about?"

  "To use the time-honored method of finding out government secrets," Pitt said slyly, "you read about them in tomorrow's newspaper."

  After a 20-kilometer detour to an abandoned village where they took contaminated water samples from a well in the marketplace, Pitt directed the Eagle's pilot to fly a leisurely scouting pattern around the Fort Foureau hazardous waste project.

  "Let the security guards get a good look at your armament," Pitt said to the pilot. "But stay alert for ground fire."

  "Massarde's executive helicopter is sitting on the landing pad with its rotor blades turning," observed Giordino. "He must be planning a hasty departure."

  "With Kazim dead, he can't have received word yet on the final outcome of the fight," said Pitt, "but he's canny enough to know something went wrong."

  "A shame we have to cancel his flight," Giordino said fiendishly.

  "No sign of ground fire, sir," the pilot notified Pitt.

  "Okay, let us off on the landing pad,"'

  "You don't want us to go in with you?" asked a rugged looking sergeant,

  "Now that the security guards are properly impressed, Al and I can take it from here. Hang around the area as a show of force for about thirty minutes to intimidate anyone dumb enough to resist. And stop that helicopter on the ground if it attempts to lift off. Then at my signal head back to Colonel Hargrove's field command."

  "You have a welcoming committee," said the pilot, pointing to the landing pad.

  "My, my," said Giordino, squinting in the bright sunlight. "It looks like our old pal, Captain Brunone."

  "And a squad of his goons," Pitt added. He tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Keep your firepower aimed at them until we wave you off."

  The pilot hovered half a meter from the ground, keeping his rocket launchers and Chain gun pointed at the waiting security guards. Giordino dropped lightly to the concrete pad and then helped Pitt step down to favor his leg. They walked over to Brunone who stiffened as he recognized them and stared in astonishment.

  "I did not expect to see you two again," said Brunone.

  "I'll bet you didn't," muttered Giordino nastily.

  Pitt stared hard at Brunone, reading an expression in the Captain's eyes that Giordino missed, an expression of relief instead of anger or fear. "You almost look happy to see us."

  "I am. I was told no one ever escaped from Tebezza."

  "Did you send the project engineers and their wives and children there?"

  Brunone shook his head solemnly. "No, that travesty occurred a week before I arrived."

  "But you knew about their imprisonment."

  "I only heard rumors. I tried to investigate the matter, but Mr. Massarde pulled a wall of secrecy around it. Anyone connected with the crime has vanished from the project."

  "He probably slit their throats to shut them up," said Giordino.

  "You don't much like Massarde, do you?" said Pitt.

  "The man is a pig and a thief," Brunone spat. "I could tell you things about this project--"

  "We already know," Pitt interrupted. "Why don't you quit and fly home?"

  Brunone stared at Pitt. "Those who resign from Massarde Enterprises receive funerals within a week. I have a wife and five children."

  In for a penny, in for a pound. Pitt had a hunch he could trust Brunone. The Captain's cooperation could prove valuable. "As of now, you're no longer in the employ of Yves Massarde. You're working for Pitt and Giordino Industries.

  Brunone thought over Pitt's proposal, more like a statement of fact, for some time, eyed the hovering helicopter that had enough firepower to level half the project, and then studied the resolute and supremely confident looks on Pitt and Giordino's faces. Then he shrugged. "Consider me hired."

  "And your security guard force?"

  For the first time Brunone grinned. "My men are loyal to me. They hate Massarde as much as I do. There will be no protest over a change of employers."

  "Cement their loyalty by informing them their pay has just been doubled."

  "And me?"

  "Play your cards right," said Pitt, "and you'll be the next managing director of this establishment."

  "Ah, now, a first-class incentive. You can be assured of my full cooperation. What would you like me to do?"

  Pitt did a sideways nod of his head toward the project's administration building. "You can begin by escorting us to Massarde so we can give him the sack."

  Brunone suddenly hesitated. "Forgotten General Kazim, haven't you? He and Massarde are partners. He won't sit by and see his share of the project go elsewhere without a fight."

  "General Zateb Kazim is no longer a problem," Pitt assured him.

  "How can that be? What is his present status?"

  "Status, status?" Giordino replied in a mocking tone. "The last time anybody saw him he was drawing a lot of flies."

  Massarde sat behind his massive desk, the steady, watchful blue eyes reflecting benign displeasure, as if the surprise appearance of Pitt and Giordino was no more than a passing annoyance. Verenne stood behind him like a loyal disciple, face scowling in disgust.

  "Like the avenging furies of Greek mythology, you never cease to plague me," Massarde said philosophically. "You even look like you ascended from the underworld."

  There was a large antique mirror on the wall behind the desk with a baroque gilded frame crowded with fat cherubs. Pitt looked into it and he could see Massarde had made an accurate assessment. He was in stark contrast to Giordino who was reasonably clean and intact. Combat suit tattered and filthy from smoke and dust. Bloodstained rips and tears revealing bandages on the left arm, shoulder, and right thigh, a gash that ran from cheekbone to chin, face sweatstreaked and haggard, if he could have found a street to lie in, Pitt thought he could pass for a hit-and-run victim.

  "Ghosts of the murdered who torment the wicked, that's us," Pitt retorted. "And we've come to punish you for your evil ways."

  "Spare me the droll humor," said Massarde. "What do you want?"

  "The Fort Foureau hazardous waste project for starters."

  "You want the project." He said it as if it were an everyday occurrence. "Then I must assume your brazenness indicates General Kazim failed in recapturing the escapees from Tebezza."

  "If you're referring to the families you forced into slavery, yes. As we speak, they're all on their way to safety, thanks to the sacrifices laid down by the UN Tactical Team and the timely arrival of an American Special Operation Force. Once they arrive in France they'll expose your criminal acts. The murders, the hideous atrocities at your gold mine, your illegal waste dumping operation that has caused thousands of deaths among the desert peoples, enough to make you the world's number one criminal."

  "My friends in France will shield me," he said firmly.

  "Don't count on your high connections in the French government. Once the public outcry hits your political buddies, they won't admit to ever having heard of you. Then it's a nasty trial and off to Devil's Island or wherever the French send their convicted criminals nowadays."

  Verenne clutched the back of Massarde's chair, hovering like one of the flying monkeys over the Wicked Witch of the West. "Mr. Massarde will never stand trial or go to prison. He is too powerful; too many world leaders are in his debt."

  "His pocket, you mean," said Giordino, moving over to the bar and helping himself to a bottle of minera
l water.

  "I am untouchable so long as I remain in Mali," said Massarde. "I can easily continue to operate Massarde Enterprises from here."

  "I'm afraid that's not possible," said Pitt, circling for the kill. "Particularly in light of General Kazim's well-deserved demise."

  Massarde stared at Pitt, his mouth slowly tightening. "Kazim dead?"