All Gowan needed to confirm his hunch was an aerial sighting of fresh vehicle tracks traveling from Tebezza to the railroad. Positive that he was now on the right trail, $e rang Kazim and explained his new analysis of the search operation.
Inside the fort the hardest ingredient of suffering was time. Everyone counted the minutes until darkness. Each hour that passed without sign of an attack was considered a gift. But by four o'clock in the afternoon, Levant knew something was terribly wrong.
He was standing on a rampart studying the hazardous waste project through binoculars when Pembroke-Smythe approached with Pitt in tow.
"You sent for me, Colonel?" asked Pitt.
Levant replied without dropping the glasses. "When you and Mr. Giordino penetrated the grounds of the waste project, did you by chance time the passing trains?"
"Yes, the inbound and outbound trains alternated, one entering three hours after one exited."
Levant put down the glasses and stared at Pitt. "Then what do you make of the fact that no train has appeared for four and a half hours?"
"A problem with the track, a derailment, breakdown of equipment. There could be any number of reasons for a slowdown in the schedule."
"Is that what you believe?"
"Not for an instant."
"What is your best guess?" Levant persisted.
Pitt stared at the empty rails running in front of the old fort. "If I was betting a year's wages, I'd have to say they're on to us."
"You think the trains were halted to prevent us from escaping?"
Pitt nodded. "It stands to reason that once Kazim wises up to our end run, and his search patrols spot our wheel tracks traveling south to the railroad, he'll realize our objective was to hijack a train."
"The Malians are smarter than I gave them credit for," Levant admitted. "Now we're trapped with no means of communicating our situation to General Bock."
Pembroke-Smythe cleared his throat. "If I may suggest, sir. I would like to volunteer to make a dash toward the border to meet up with the American Special Forces team and lead them back."
Levant looked at him sternly for a moment. "A suicide mission at best."
"It may well be our only chance at getting anyone out of here. By taking the fast attack vehicle, I can be over the border inside of six hours."
"You're optimistic, Captain," Pitt corrected him. "I've driven over this part of the desert. Just when you're traveling at speed across what looks like a flat dry plain, you drop 50 feet off a slope into a ravine. And there is no traveling through sand dunes if you expect to make time. I'd say you'll be lucky to hit Mauritania by late tomorrow morning."
"I intend to travel as the crow flies by driving on the railroad."
"A dead giveaway. Kazim's patrols will be all over you before you've covered 50 kilometers, if they haven't already set up blockades across the tracks."
"Aren't you forgetting our lack of fuel?" added Levant. "There isn't enough gas to carry you a third of the way."
"We can drain what's left from the tanks of the personnel carriers," Pembroke-Smythe said without a sign of retreat.
"You'll be cutting it a mite thin," said Pitt.
Pembroke-Smythe shrugged. "A dull ride without some risk.
"You can't go it alone," said Levant:
"A night crossing of the desert at high speed can be a risky business," cautioned Pitt. "You'll need a co-driver and a navigator."`
"I have no intention of attempting it alone," Pembroke-Smythe informed them,
"Who have you selected?" asked Levant.
Smythe looked and smiled at the tall man from NUMA, "Either Mr. Pitt or his friend Giordino, since they've already had a crash course in desert survival."
"A civilian won't be of much help in a running fight with Kazim's patrols," warned Levant.
"I plan to lighten the assault vehicle by removing all armor and weapons. We'll carry a spare tire and tools, enough water for the next twenty-four hours, and handguns only.
Levant thought out Pembroke-Smythe's mad plan carefully in his methodical way. Then he nodded. "All right, Captain. Get to work on the vehicle."
"Yes sir."
"There is, however, one other thing."
"Sir?"
"Sorry to put a crimp in your escapade, but as second in command, I require your services here. You'll have to send someone in your place. I suggest Lieutenant Steinholm. If I remember correctly, he once drove in the Monte Carlo Rally"
Pembroke-Smythe did not attempt to conceal the expression of disappointment on his face. He began to say something, but saluted and hurried down the ladder to the parade field without a word of protest.
Levant looked at Pitt. "You'll have to volunteer, Mr. Pitt. I do not have the authority to order you to go:"
"Colonel," Pitt said with the barest of grins, "I've been chased all over the Sahara in the past week, came within a. millimeter of dying of thirst, been shot at, steamed like a, lobster, and cuffed in the face by every unsavory scum I met: This is the last stop for Mrs. Pitt's boy. I'm getting off the train and staying put. Al Giordino will go out with Lieutenant Steinholm."
Levant smiled. "You're a fraud, Mr. Pitt, a sterling, gilt-edged fraud. You know as well as I it's sure death to remain here. Giving your friend a chance to escape in your place is a noble gesture. You have my deepest respect."
"Noble gestures are not part of my act. I have a thing about leaving jobs unfinished." Levant looked down at the strange machine taking shape under the protection of one wall. "You mean your catapult."
"Actually, it's sort of a spring bow."
"Do you actually think it will work against armored vehicles?"
"Oh, she'll do the job," said Pitt in a tone of utter, confidence "The only unknown is how well."
Shortly after sunset, the hurriedly filled sandbags ante makeshift obstructions were removed from the main gate and the massive doors opened. Lieutenant Steinholm, a big, blond, handsome Austrian, strapped himself behind the wheel and received his final instructions from Pembroke-Smythe.
Giordino stood beside the stripped down dune buggy and quietly made his farewells to Pitt and Eva. "So long, old buddy," he said to Pitt, forcing a tight smile. "Not fair me going instead of you."
Pitt gave Giordino a quick bear hug. "Mind the pot holes."
"Steinholm and I'll be back with beer and pizza by lunchtime."
The words were empty of meaning. Neither man doubted for a second that by noon the following day the fort and everybody in it would be only a memory.
"I'll keep a light in the window," said Pitt.
Eva gave Giordino a light kiss on the cheek and handed him a small package wrapped in plastic. "A little something to eat on the road."
"Thank you." Giordino turned away so they couldn't see his watering eyes and climbed in the attack vehicle, his smile suddenly gone, his face taut with sadness. "Put your foot on it," he said to Steinholm.
The Lieutenant nodded, shifted gears, and jammed his foot on the accelerator. The dune buggy leaped forward and shot through the open gate, roaring into the fading orange of the western sky as its rear wheels kicked up twin rooster tails of dust.
Giordino twisted in his seat and looked back. Pitt stood just outside the gate, one arm around Eva's waist. He lifted a hand in a gesture of farewell. Giordino could still see the flash of Pitt's devilish smile before the trailing dust closed off all view.