"Did you know her?" asked Sandecker of Gunn.
"Not me, but Pitt. He dated her in Cairo."
"Maybe it's just as well he doesn't know," Sandecker said. "He must have enough problems just staying alive without bad news to fog his mind."
"There's no confirmation of a crash yet," said Holland hopefully.
"Maybe they made a forced landing in the desert and survived," Muriel said hopefully.
Webster shook his head. "Wishful thinking I'm afraid. I fear General Zateb Kazim has his dirty hands in this business."
Gunn recalled, "Pitt and Giordino had a conversation with the General on our boat's radio shortly before I hit the river. I got the impression he's a nasty customer."
"As ruthless as any Middle East dictator," said Sandecker. "And twice as hard to deal with. He won't even meet or speak with our State Department diplomats unless they hand him a fat foreign aid check."
Added Muriel, "He ignores the United Nations and refuses any outside relief supplies to his people."
Webster nodded. "Any human rights activist dumb enough to enter Mali and protest, simply vanishes."
"He and Massarde are thick as thieves," said Hodge. "Between the two of them they've raped the country into total poverty."
Sandecker's face hardened. "Not our concern. There won't be a Mali, a West Africa, or anywhere else on earth if we don't stop the red tide. Right now, nothing else matters."
Chapman spoke up. "Now that we have data we can sink our teeth into, we can all focus our skills and work together to formulate a solution."
"Make it quick," said Sandecker, his eyes narrowing. "If you've failed thirty days from now, none of us will get a second chance."
A brisk breeze was quivering the leaves along the Palisades above the Hudson River as Ismail Yerli peered through binoculars at a small bluish-gray bird perched on a tree trunk upside down. He acted as if his full attention was on the little bird and failed to notice the appearance of a man behind him. Actually, he had been aware of the approaching intruder for nearly two minutes.
"A white-breasted' nuthatch," said the tall, rather handsome stranger who wore an expensive burgundy leather jacket. He sat down on a flat rock next to Yerli. His sandy hair was neatly slicked down with a razor-edge part on the left side. He stared indifferently at the bird through pale blue eyes.
"The duller black on the back of the head suggests a female," said Yerli without lowering his glasses.
"The male is probably nearby. Perhaps tending the nest."
"Good call, Bordeaux," said Yerli, using the other man's code name. "I didn't know you were a bird watcher."
"I'm not. What can I do for you, Pergamon?"
"It was you who requested this meeting."
"But not in the boondocks under a bone-chilling wind."
"Meeting in gourmet restaurants is not my idea of working undercover."
"I never took to the idea of operating in the shadows and living in slums," Bordeaux said dryly.
"Not wise to act flamboyant."
"My job is to protect the interests of a man who, I might add, pays me extremely well. The FBI isn't about to put me under surveillance unless they suspect me of espionage. And since our job— at least my job-is not to steal classified American secrets, I fail to see why I have to melt into the foul-smelling masses."
Bordeaux's contemptuous outlook toward intelligence did not sit well with Yerli. Although they had known each other and often worked together over the years on behalf of Yves Massarde, strangely neither man knew the other's real name and never made an effort to learn it. Bordeaux was head of Massarde Enterprises' commercial intelligence operations in the United States. Yerli, only known to him as Pergamon, often passed along information vital to Massarde's international projects. For this he was paid handsomely up and above his salary as a French intelligence agent. A situation tolerated by his superiors because of Massarde's strong connections with many of France's cabinet members.
"You're getting careless, my friend."
Bordeaux shrugged. "I am getting bored dealing with uncouth Americans. New York is a cesspool. The country is divided by racial and ethnic diversity and is disintegrating. Someday, the United States will repeat the economic and regional strife going on in Russia and the Commonwealth States today. I long to return to France, the only truly civilized nation in the world."
"I hear one of the NUMA people escaped from Mali," Yerli said, abruptly changing the subject.
"That idiot Kazim let him slip through his fingers," replied Bordeaux.
"Didn't you pass on my warning to Mr. Massarde?"
"Of course I warned him. And he in turn alerted General Kazim. Two other men were captured by Mr. Massarde on his houseboat, but Kazim, in all his dazzling brilliance, was too stupid to search for the third agent who escaped and was evacuated by the UN tactical team."
"What are Mr. Massarde's thoughts on the situation?"
"He's not happy, knowing there is a serious risk of an international investigation into his project at Fort Foureau."
"Not good, any threat to expose and close down Fort Foureau is a threat to our French nuclear program."
"Mr. Massarde is quite aware of the problem," said Bordeaux acidly.
"What of the World Health scientists? The morning newspapers said their plane is reported overdue and presumed missing."
"One of Kazim's better ideas," answered Bordeaux. "He faked the plane crash in an uninhabited part of the desert."
"Faked? I forewarned Hala Kamil of what I had conceived as a genuine bomb plot to destroy the aircraft and Hopper and his team."
"A slight change in your plan to frighten off any future inspections by World Health scientists," said Bordeaux. "The plane crashed all right, but the bodies on board were not those of Dr. Hopper and the rest."
"They're still alive?"
"They're as good as dead. Kazim sent them to Tebezza."
Yerli nodded. "Better they should have died quickly than in the mines of Tebezza as overworked and starved slaves." Yerli paused thoughtfully, then said, "I think Kazim has made a mistake."
"The secret of their true situation is safe," said Bordeaux indifferently. "No one escapes from Tebezza. They go into the mines and never come out."
Yerli took a Kleenex out of his coat pocket and began wiping the lenses of his binoculars. "Did Hopper discover any evidence that might prove damaging to Fort Foureau?"
"Enough to cause renewed interest and promote a deeper investigation if his report had been made public."
"What is known about the NUMA agent who escaped?"
"His name is Gunn, and he's the Deputy Director of the National Underwater and Marine Agency."
"An influential man."
"Indeed."
"Where is he now?"
"We traced the aircraft that evacuated him to Paris, where he boarded a Concorde for Washington. From there, he was taken directly to NUMA headquarters. My sources say he was still inside the building as of forty minutes ago."
"Is it known if he smuggled vital information out of Mali?"
"Whatever information he obtained, if any, from the Niger River is a mystery to us. But Mr. Massarde feels confident nothing was discovered that could jeopardize the Fort Foureau operation."
"Kazim should have an easy time making the other two Americans talk."
"I received word just as I left to meet you. Unfortunately, they escaped too."
Yerli stared at Bordeaux in sudden irritation. "Who bungled?"
Bordeaux shrugged. "Makes no difference, who's to blame. Frankly, it's not our concern. What's important is that they are still inside the country. There is little hope of them escaping over the border. It's only a matter of hours before Kazim's search operation hunts them down."