Sahara (61 page)

Pitt nodded. “My friend and I stumbled on those secrets too, unaware we were on Massarde’s security video show.”

“The engineer escaped back to our living quarters and spread the word before he could be stopped,” Monteux explained. “Shortly after, all of us who were non-Massarde Enterprises consultants and our families were forcibly rounded up and sent to Tebezza to keep the secret from getting back to France.”

“How did he cover up your sudden disappearance?”

“A phony story about a disaster at the project, a fire that killed us all. The French government insisted on a full inquiry, but Kazim refused to allow foreign inspectors into Mali, claiming his government would conduct the investigation. Of course, none took place and our supposed cremated bodies were reported as scattered over the desert after a proper ceremony.”

The green in Pitt’s eyes deepened. “Massarde is a thorough man. But he made a series of mistakes.”

“Mistakes?” Monteux said curiously.

“He let too many people live.”

“When you were captured, did you meet him?”

Pitt raised his hand and touched one of the scabs that cut across his cheeks. “He also has a nasty disposition.”

Monteux smiled. “Consider yourself lucky that is your only gift from him. When we were assembled and given our death sentence as slave labor in the mines, one woman resisted and spat in Massarde’s face. He calmly shot her between the eyes right in front of her husband and ten-year-old daughter.”

“The more I hear about the man,” Pitt said, his tone cold, “the less he endears himself to me.”

“The commandos say we will attempt to capture a train, and then escape into Mauritania tonight.”

Pitt nodded. “That’s the plan if we’re not discovered by Malian military forces before dark.”

“We have talked between ourselves,” said Monteux solemnly. “None will go back to Tebezza. All would rather die. We have made a pact to kill our wives and children rather than allow them to suffer in the mines again.”

Pitt stared at Monteux and then at the women and children resting on the stone floor of the arsenal. His craggy and weathered face took on a look of sorrow tinged with anger. Then he said softly, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Eva was too tired to sleep. She looked up into Pitt’s eyes. “A walk under the morning sun with me?”

“No one is allowed to wander in the open. The fort has to appear abandoned to passing trains and any aircraft that might fly over.”

“We traveled all last night and I’ve been locked up underground for nearly two weeks. Isn’t there some way I can see the sun?” she implored him.

He said nothing but gave her his best buccaneer grin as he swept her in his arms and carried her up the stairs onto the parade ground. Not stopping, he climbed to the platform that stretched around the fort’s ramparts before lightly setting her on her feet.

The sun blinded Eva for a few moments, and she didn’t see the approach of a female commando who was on duty as a lookout. “You must stay below out of sight,” the guard ordered. “Colonel Levant’s orders.”

“A couple of minutes,” Pitt pleaded. “The lady hasn’t seen blue sky for quite a while.”

The tactical team fighter may have looked tough as nails in her combat suit, bristling with ammo and weapons, but she possessed twice the compassion and understanding of any man. One look at the wasted woman leaning against Pitt, and her expression softened. “Two minutes,” she smiled ever so slightly. “Then you’ll have to get back undercover.”

“Thank you,” said Eva. “I’m very grateful to you.”

The scorching temperatures were still an hour away as Pitt and Eva looked out from their vantage point across the nearby railroad tracks toward the endless, unbroken terrain to the north. Strangely, it was Pitt and not the woman who saw a magnificence in the parched and hostile landscape, despite the fact that it had almost killed him.

“I can’t wait to see the ocean again,” she said.

“Do you dive?” he asked.

“I’ve always loved water, but never got beyond the snorkel stage.”

“Varied sea life abounds around Monterey. Beautiful fish among the kelp forests, and incredible rock formations, especially down the coast past Carmel toward Big Sur. When we get there, I’ll give you scuba lessons and take you diving.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

She closed her eyes, tilted back her head, and soaked in the sun, her cheeks glowing from the rising heat of the day. He gazed down at her, taking in every lovely detail that had not been affected by her long ordeal. The lookouts stationed around the ramparts faded into the bright sunlight. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, forget the dangers, forget everything but this moment and kiss her.

And he did.

For a long moment she gripped him tightly around the neck and kissed back. He squeezed her around the waist and pulled her to her toes. How long they clung together, neither could remember.

Finally she pushed back and looked up into his opaline green eyes, and felt weakness, excitement, and love wrapped up in one swirling emotion. She whispered, “I knew from that dinner together in Cairo I’d never be able to resist you.”

He said softly, “And I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Will you be going back to Washington after we escape?” She spoke the words as if reaching safety was a certainty.

He shrugged without letting her go. “I’m sure they’ll want me to return and work on stopping the red tides. And you, after a good rest, where will it be? Another mission of mercy to an underdeveloped country to fight disease?”

“It’s my job,” she murmured. “Helping to save lives is all I’ve ever wanted to do since I was a little girl.”

“Doesn’t leave much time for romance, does it?”

“We’re both prisoners of our occupations.”

The lookout came over then. “You’ll have to get down below out of sight now,” she said as if embarrassed. “We can’t be too careful now, can we?”

Eva pulled Pitt’s beard-stubbly face down to hers and whispered again in his ear. “Would you think me wanton if I said I want you?”

He smiled. “I’m an easy mark for wanton girls.”

She made a small gesture at brushing back her hair and straightening out her dirty and tattered clothing. “But certainly not one who hasn’t bathed in two weeks and is as skinny as an underfed alley cat.”

“Oh I don’t know. Unwashed skinny women have been known to bring out the animal in me.”

Without another word, Pitt led her down to the parade ground and into a small storeroom off of what was once the kitchen and mess hall. It was empty except for a wooden keg of iron spikes. No one was in sight. He left her for a minute and returned with two blankets. Then he laid the blankets on the dusty floor of the empty storeroom and locked the door.

They could barely see each other from the light that crept under the door as he squeezed her with his arms again. “Sorry I can’t offer you champagne and a king-size bed.”

Eva daintily straightened the blankets and knelt down, looking up at his dim, rugged-looking face. “I’ll just close my eyes and imagine I’m with my handsome lover in the most luxurious suite in the finest hotel in San Francisco.”

Pitt kissed her and laughed softly. “Lady, you’ve got one fantastic imagination.”

51

Massarde’s chief aide, Felix Verenne, stepped into his boss’ office. “A call from Ismail Yerli at Kazim’s headquarters.”

Massarde nodded and picked up the phone. “Yes, Ismail, I hope this is good news.”

“I regret to tell you, Mr. Massarde, the news is anything but good.”

“Did Kazim catch the UN combat unit?”

“No, he has yet to find them. Their plane was destroyed as we thought, but they vanished in the desert.”

“Why can’t his patrols follow their tracks?” Massarde demanded angrily.

“The desert wind has blown sand over them,” Yerli answered calmly. “All trace of their trail has been obliterated.”

“What is the situation at the mine?”

“The prisoners have rioted, killed the guards, and destroyed the equipment and ravaged the offices. Your engineers are dead too. It will take six months to put the mine back in full operation.”

“What of O’Bannion?”

“Disappeared. No sign of his body. My men did find his sadistic overseer, however.”

“The American he called Melika?”

“The prisoners mutilated her body with a vengeance, almost beyond recognition.”

“The raiders must have taken O’Bannion as informant against us,” suggested Massarde.

“Too soon to tell,” Yerli replied. “Kazim’s officers have just begun interrogating the prisoners. Another bit of news I can pass along that won’t sit well with you is that the Americans, Pitt and Giordino, were recognized by one surviving guard. They somehow fled the mines over a week ago, crossed into Algeria, and returned with the UN raiders.”

Massarde was thunderstruck. “Good God, that means they reached Algiers and made outside contact.”

“My thoughts also.”

“Why weren’t we informed by O’Bannion they had escaped?”

“Fear of how you and Kazim would react, obviously. How they traveled over 400 kilometers of desert without food and water is a mystery.”

“If they exposed our operation of the mine with captive labor to their superiors in Washington, they must have also revealed the secret of Fort Foureau.”

“They have no documented proof,” Yerli reminded him. “Two foreigners who illegally crossed sovereign borders and committed criminal acts against the Malian government will not be taken seriously in any international court of law.”

“Except that my project will be besieged with news correspondents and world environmental investigators.”

“Not to worry. I will advise Kazim to close the borders to all outsiders, and have them expelled if they do.”

“You’re forgetting,” said Massarde, trying to remain calm, “the French engineers and scientists I contracted to build the project and threw into Tebezza. Once they reach; safety, they will spread the word of their abduction and imprisonment. Even more damaging, they will expose our illegal waste dumping operation. Massarde Enterprises will
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be attacked on all fronts, and I will face criminal charges in every country I have an office or project.”

“None will live to give evidence,” Yerli said as if it was a foregone conclusion.

“What is the next step?” Massarde asked.

“Kazim’s aerial reconnaissance and motor patrols can find no indication of their crossing into Algeria. That means j they’re still in Mali, staying undercover and awaiting res-! cue.”

“Which Kazim’s forces will stop.”

“Of course.”

“Could they have headed west for Mauritania?”

Yerli shook his head to himself. “Not with over 1000 kilometers between them and the first village with water. Also, they couldn’t possibly have carried enough fuel for that distance.”

“They must be stopped, Ismail,” said Massarde without concealing a note of desperation. “They must be exterminated.”

“And they shall be,” Yerli promised. “I vow to you, they will not get out of Mali. Every last one of them will be hunted down. They may fool Kazim, but they won’t fool me.”

El Haj Ali sat in the sand under the shade of his camel and waited for a train to pass by. He had walked and ridden over 200 kilometers from his village of Araouane to see the wonder of a railroad, described to him by a passing Britisher who was leading a group of tourists across the desert.

Just past his fourteenth birthday, Ali’s father had given him permission to take one of the family’s two camels, a superb white animal, and travel north to the shining rails and witness the great steel monster with his own eyes. Though he had seen automobiles and distant aircraft in the sky, other wonders such as cameras, radios, and television sets were a mystery to him. But to actually see and perhaps touch a locomotive would make him the envy of every boy and girl in his village.

He drank tea and sucked on boiled sweets as he waited. After three hours and no sign of an approaching train, he mounted his camel and set off along the tracks toward the Fort Foureau project so he could tell his family about the immense buildings that rose out of the desert.

As he passed the long-abandoned Foreign Legion fort, surrounded by high walls, isolated and lonely, he turned off the rails and approached the gate out of curiosity. The big, sun-bleached doors were shut tight. He jumped from his camel and led it around the fort’s walls looking for another opening to gain entrance inside, but finding only solid mud and stone, he gave up and walked back toward the railroad.

He looked to the west, intrigued with the way the silver rails strung out far into the distance and curled under the heat waves rising from the sun-baked sands. His eye caught something as he stood on the ties and stared. A speck appeared and floated through the heat waves. It enlarged and came toward him. The great steel monster, he thought with excitement.

But as the object drew closer, he could see it was too small for a locomotive. Then he discerned two men riding on it as if it was an open automobile driving on the rails. Ali moved off the track bed and stood next to his camel as the motor cart carrying two section hands who were inspecting the track rolled to a stop in front of him.

One was a white foreigner, the other, a dark-skinned Moor, greeted him.
“Sallam al laikum.”

“Al laikum el sallam,”
Ali replied.

“Where do you come from, boy?” asked the Moor in the Berber language of the Tuareg.

“From Araouane to see the steel monster.”

“You’ve come a long way.”

“The trip was easy,” Ali boasted.

“You have a fine camel.”

“My father loaned me his best.”

The Moor looked at a gold wristwatch. “You don’t have long to wait. The train from Mauritania is due in about forty-five minutes.”

“Thank you. I will wait,” said Ali.

“See anything interesting inside the old fort?”

Ali shook his head. “I could not enter. The gates are locked.”

The two section men exchanged quizzical glances and conversed in French for a few moments.

Then the Moor asked, “Are you certain? The fort is always open. That is where we keep ties and equipment to repair the track bed.”