"It reads, `Tell the Admiral that when I return to Washington, I'll take him to see Harvey's girlfriend Judy sing at the AT&S saloon.' Is this a crude joke, or what?"
"Dirk is not known for crude jokes," Sandecker said definitely. "He's trying to tell us something with some sort of riddle."
"Do you know this Harvey?" asked Bock blankly.
"The name isn't familiar," murmured Sandecker. "I've never heard Dirk mention anyone called Harvey."
"Is there such a place in Washington as the AT&S saloon with a singer by the name of Judy?" Bock inquired.
"Not that I've ever been in," Sandecker answered, searching for a clue in the recesses of his mind. "And the only singer I ever knew named Judy was—"
The answer struck Sandecker with all the suddenness of a slap in the face. The ingenious simplicity, the elementary code was obvious to anyone who was an old motion picture buff like the Admiral. He might have known, he might have guessed Pitt would have played on that knowledge. He laughed.
"I fail to see the humor," Bock said sternly.
"They're not running for the border into Algeria," Sandecker stated triumphantly.
"What did you say?"
"Colonel Levant's force is heading south toward the railroad running between the sea and Fort Foureau."
"May I ask what brought you to that conclusion?" Bock asked suspiciously.
"Dirk's thrown us a conundrum, a common riddle that Kazim is unlikely to solve. Judy the singer is Judy Garland and Harvey represents a movie she starred in called The Harvey Girls."
"How does the AT&S saloon fit in the picture?"
"Not a saloon, but a song. The hit song Judy Garland sang in the movie. It was called The Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe. The name of a railroad."
Bock said slowly, "That explains why Levant sent a report that Kazim's communications people could easily intercept. He misled them into believing he was heading north into Algeria."
"When in fact they're traveling in the opposite direction," Sandecker finished.
"Levant has rightly assumed that crossing the Mali/ Algeria border did not guarantee safety. Men as ruthless as Kazim have no qualms about ignoring international law. He will pursue our force until they are all slaughtered."
"The next question is what do they do after reaching the railroad?"
"Perhaps steal a train," suggested Bock.
"Makes sense, but in broad daylight?"
"There is more to the message from your man, Pitt."
"Please go on."
"The next part reads, `Also inform the Admiral that Gary, Ray, and Bob are going over to Brian's house for fun and games.' Can you interpret this?"
Sandecker thought a moment. "If Pitt is still coding in movies then Gary must be Gary Cooper. And I'll guess that he means Ray Milland."
"Do you recall a picture they starred in together?"
"I do indeed," Sandecker fairly beamed over the telephone. "Dirk might just as well have hung out a neon sign. They starred with Robert Preston and Brian Donlevy in a 1939 epic called Beau Geste."
"I saw it when I was a boy," said Bock. "The story was about three brothers who served in the French Foreign Legion."
"The reference to Brian's house suggests a fort."
"Certainly not the Fort Foureau hazardous waste facility. That would be the last place Levant would go."
"Is there another fort in the area?"
Bock paused to consult his maps. "Yes, an old Legion outpost several kilometers west of the waste project. The very one, in fact, Massarde named his project after."
"Sounds like they intend to hole up there until dark."
"I would do the same if I was in Colonel Levant's place."
"They're going to need help," said Sandecker.
"Precisely the reason for my call to you," said Bock, becoming brisk and businesslike. "You must persuade the President to send an American special forces group to assist in bringing Levant and the freed captives out of General Kazim's territory."
"Did you discuss this with Secretary General Kamil? She carries more weight with the President than I do."
"Unfortunately, she was suddenly called away to an emergency conference in Moscow. You are the only one I can turn to on rush notice."
"How much time have we got?"
"Virtually none. Daylight will come in their part of the desert within two hours."
"I'll do what I can," promised Sandecker. "I only hope the President hasn't gone to bed yet, or I'll pay hell getting his aides to wake him."
"You must be out of your mind, demanding to see the President this time of night," Earl Willover said angrily.
Sandecker looked at the President's Chief of Staff who was neatly attired in a dark double-breasted wool pin stripe that showed only the slightest sign of creases in the pants. Sandecker wondered if the man ever left his office and slept standing up. "Take my word for it, Earl, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent."
"I won't wake the President unless faced with an international crisis that endangers the security of the nation."
So far Sandecker had held his temper in check, but it began to slip away. "All right, tell him there's a taxpaying voter downstairs in the White House office who's mad as hell."
"You are mad."
"Mad enough to charge up to his bedroom and wake him myself."
Willover looked like he was on the verge of a boiling fit. "You try it, and I'll have the Secret Service take you in custody."
"A lot of innocent people, including women and children, are going to die if the President doesn't act."
"I hear that old story every day of the week," Willover sneered.
"And make jokes about the victims, right?"
Willover finally lost it. "You've got an answer for everything, you arrogant anchor-danker. I can break you any time I want to. You understand?"
Sandecker moved close enough to Willover to smell the man's minty breath. "Listen up, Earl. One day the President's term of office will be over and you'll only be another one of the great unwashed public again. Then I will ring your doorbell and tear out your liver."
"I bet you would too," came a familiar voice.
Sandecker and Willover both turned and faced the President who was standing in a doorway in his pajamas and bathrobe. He was nibbling from a plate of canapés he held in one hand.
"I sneaked down for a late snack from the kitchen refrigerator and overheard heated voices." He stared at Sandecker. "Now suppose you tell me what this is all about, Admiral."
Willover stepped in front of Sandecker. "Please sir, it's a matter of little consequence."
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that, Earl. Okay, Admiral, speak your piece."
"First let me ask you, Mr. President, have you been briefed on the latest developments on the Fort Foureau operation?"
The President looked at Willover. "I was told that your men, Pitt and Giordino, had managed to escape into Algeria and that they provided vital information regarding Yves Massarde's corrupt and unscrupulous hazardous waste operations…"
"May I ask what your response is?"
"We're calling for an international environmental tribunal of European and North African legal representatives to meet and discuss a plan of action," answered Willover.
"Then you don't plan to… I believe you said, Mr. President… `go in and take the place out ourselves'"
"Cooler heads have prevailed," said the President, nodding at Willoven.
"Even now, with proof that chemicals leaking from Fort Foureau are causing the expanding red tide, all anyone is going to do is sit down and talk about it?" Sandecker said, controlling his exasperation.
"We'll discuss this another time," said the President, turning to return to his bedroom upstairs in the White House. "Earl will set up an appointment."