Sahara

by Clive Cussler

  Monterey, California

  <<65>>

  June marked the height of the tourist season on the Monterey Peninsula. They drove their cars and recreational vehicles bumper-to-bumper over the scenic Seventeen-Mite Drive between Monterey and Carmel. Along Cannery Row, the shoppers were shoulder-to-shoulder as they alternated between buying sprees and dining in the picturesque seafood restaurants overlooking the water.

  They came to play golf at Pebble Beach, see Big Sur, and take pictures of sunsets off Point Lobos. They wandered through the wineries, stared at the ancient cypress trees, and strolled along the beaches, thrilling to the sights of gliding pelicans, the barking of the seals, and the crashing waves.

  Eva's mother and father were becoming immune to their spectacular surroundings after having lived in the same cottage-style house in Pacific Grove for over thirty-two years. They often took for granted their good fortune at living in such a beautiful part of the California coast. But the blinders always came off when Eva came home. She never failed to see the peninsula through the eyes of a teenager, as if viewing her very own car for the first time.

  Whenever she came home she dragged her parents out of their comfortable routine to enjoy the simple beauties of their community. But this trip was a different story. She was in no condition to push them into a bike ride or a swim in the brisk waters rolling in from the Pacific. Nor did she feel in the mood to do anything but mope around the house.

  Two days out of the hospital, Eva was confined to a wheelchair, recovering from her injuries suffered at Fort Foureau. The wasted body, drained by her ordeal in the mines at Tebezza, had been rejuvenated by hefty helpings of healthy food that had added an inch on her slim waistline with the addition of too many calories, a condition exercise could not cure until her fractures knitted and the casts came off.

  Her body was slowly mending, but her mind was sick from not hearing a word from Pitt. Since she had been airlifted from the ruins of the old Foreign Legion fort to Mauritania, and from there to a hospital in San Francisco, it was as though he had fallen into deep space. A phone call to Admiral Sandecker had only assured her that Pitt was still in the Sahara and had not returned to Washington with Giordino.

  "Why don't you come golfing with me this morning?" her father asked her. "Do you good to get out of the house."

  She looked up into his twinkling gray eyes and smiled at the way his gray hair never stayed combed. "I don't think I'm in shape to hit the ball," she grinned.

  "I thought you might like to ride in the cart with me."

  She thought it over for a while, and then nodded. "Why not?" She held up her good arm and wiggled the toes on her right foot. "But only if I get to drive."

  Her mother fussed over her as she helped load Eva into the family Chrysler. "Now you see she doesn't hurt herself," she admonished Eva's father.

  "I promise to bring her back in the same condition I found her," he joked.

  Mr. Rojas teed off on the fourth hole of the Pacific Grove Municipal Golf Course along fairways that stretched around the Point Pinos Lighthouse. He watched his ball drop into a sandtrap, shook his head, and dropped the club in its bag.

  "Not enough muscle," he muttered in frustration.

  Eva sat behind the wheel of the cart and gestured to a bench perched on a lookout over the sea. "Would you mind, Dad, if I sat out the next five holes. It's such a beautiful day, 'd just like to sit and look at the ocean."

  "Why sure, honey. I'll pick you up on my way back to the clubhouse."

  After he helped her settle as comfortably as possible on the bench, he waved and drove the cart on down the fairway toward the green with three of his golfing buddies following in another cart.

  There was a light mist hanging just over the water, but she could see the sweeping shore of the bay as it curved into the town of Monterey and then swept in a near straight line northward. The sea was calm and the waves moved like burrowing animals under the great fields of kelp. She inhaled the air, pungent with drying seaweed draped on the rocky shore, and watched a sea otter's antics as it cavorted around the kelp.

  Eva looked up suddenly as a squawking sea gull glided overhead. She slowly turned her head to follow its flight and suddenly found her eyes locked on a man standing slightly to the side and behind the bench.

  "You and I and the Bay of Monterey," he said softly.

  Pitt stood smiling in delight and immense affection as Eva stared at him for a long moment in uncomprehending joy and disbelief. Then he was beside her and she was in his arms.

  "Oh Dirk, Dirk! I wasn't sure you'd come. I thought we might be finished--"

  She broke off as he kissed her and looked down at the gleaming Dresden blue eyes now misting with tears that crept down her reddened cheeks.

  "I should have contacted you," he said. "My life has been chaos until two days ago."

  "You're forgiven," she said joyously. "But how in the world did you know I was here?"

  "Your mother. Nice lady. She sent me here. I rented a golf cart and drove around the course until I saw this poor little lonely waif with a parcel of broken bones staring sadly at the sea."

  "You're a nut," she said happily, kissing him again.

  He slid his arms under Eva and carefully picked her up. "I wish we had time to watch the waves roll in, but we have to be on our way. My God, but all this plaster makes you heavy."

  "Why are we rushing off?"

  "We have to pack your things and catch a plane," he answered as he lowered her into the golf cart.

  "Plane, a plane to where?"

  "A little fishing village on the west coast of Mexico."

  "You're taking me to Mexico?" she smiled through the tears.

  "To board a boat I've chartered."

  "For a cruise?"

  "Sort of," he explained with a grin. "We're going to sail to a place called Clipperton Island and look for treasure."

  She said to Pitt as he drove the cart into the parking lot by the clubhouse, "I think you are the most sneaky, beguiling, and crafty man I've ever known--" She broke off as he stopped beside a strange-looking car with a bright fuchsia paint job. "What is this?" she asked in amazement.

  "An automobile."

  "I can see that, but what kind?"

  "An Avions Voisin, a gift from my old pal, Zateb Kazim." She stared at him blankly. "You had this shipped over from Mali?"

  "On an Air Force transport," he answered casually. "The President owed me big. So I made a simple request."

  Where are you going to park it if we're catching a flight?" talked your mother into storing it in her garage until Pebble Beach Concours in August."

  She shook her head in disbelief. "You're incorrigible."

  Pitt held her face gently between his hands, smiled down her, her, and said, "That's why I'm so much fun."