"The fact that he's on close terms with Hala Kamfl won't hurt us either," Nichols said flatly.
The President was silent, staring into the glass of zinfandel as if it was a crystal ball. Then he raised the glass.
"To a continued friendly union with Egypt."
"Hear, hear," said Mercier and Brogan in unison.
"To Egypt," murmured Oates.
"And Mexico," added Schiller.
The President glanced at his watch and rose, followed by his advisers.
"Sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting with a group of Treasury people. Congratulate everyone involved in rescuing the hostages for me." He turned to Oates. "I want to meet with you and Senator Pitt the minute he returns."
"To discuss any words he had with President Hasan during their ordeal?"
"I'd be more interested in hearing what he learned from President De Lorenzo on the crisis south of our border. Egypt is of secondary importance compared to Mexico. We can safely assume Akhmad Yazid has been benched for the rest of the season, but Topiltzin is a far worse threat. Concentrate on him, gentlemen. God help us if we can't stabilize the upheaval in Mexico."
Slowly, reluctantly, Pitt rose from the black depths of a sound sleep to the brightly lit surface of consciousness only to find it was accompanied by stiff, aching pain. He tried to go back and reenter the comforting void, but his eyes blinked open, and it was too late. The first thing he focused on was a smiling red face.
"Well, well, he's back among the living," said First Officer Finney cheerfully. "I'll go and inform the Captain."
As Finney passed through the door, Pitt moved his eyes without moving his head and found a little baldheaded sitting in a chair beside the bed. The ship's doctor, Pitt recognized, but the name escaped him.
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't recollect your,
"Henry Webster," he second-guessed Pitt, smiling warmly. "And if you're wondering where you are, you're in the finest suite on board the Flamborough, which is currently under tow by the Sounder for Punta Arenas."
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"While you weremaking your report to Colonel Hollis, I was tending to your wounds. Soon afterward, I put you under heavy sedation. You've been out for about twelve hours."
"No wonder I'm starving."
"I'll see our chef personally sends down one of his specialties."
"How are Giordino and Findley?"
"Most admirable of you to inquire of your friends before yourself.
Giordino is a very durable man. I took four bullets from him, none in critical areas. He should be ready to party by New Year's Eve.
Findley's wounds were far more serious. Bullets entered his right side and lodged in a lung and kidney. I did what I could for him on the ship.
He and Giordino were airlifted to Punta Arenas and flown to Washington soon after I put you out. Findley will be operated on by bullet-wound specialists at the Walter Reed Medical Center. If there are no complications, he should pull through in fine shape. By the way, your friend Rudi Gunn felt they needed him more than you did, so he accompanied them home."
Before Pitt could make a reply, a digital thermometer was slipped in and out of his mouth.
Dr. Webster studied the reading and nodded. "As for you, Mr.
Pitt-you'll mend nicely. How are you feeling?"
"I don't think I'm up to entering a triathlon, but except for a throb in my head and a stinging sensation in my neck, I'll manage."
"You're a lucky man. None of the bullets struck a bone, internal organ or artery. I stitched up your leg and neck, or, more accurately, your trapezius muscle. Also your cheek. Plastic surgery should hide the scar, unless of course your women find it adds to your sex appeal. The smack on your head caused a concussion. X-rays showed no sign of a hairline fracture. My prognosis is that you'll be swimming the English Channel and playing the violin within months."
Pitt laughed. Almost immediately he tensed as the pain struck from every side. Webster's look became one of quick concern.
"I am sorry. My bedside manner tends to get a bit too jolly, I'm afraid."
Pin relaxed and the agony soon subsided. He loved English phrasing and humor. They were a class act, he thought. He smiled grimly and stared at Webster with unconcealed respect. He knew the doctor had down played his skill and labors out of modesty.
"If that hurt," said Pitt, "I can't wait to get your bill."
It was Webster's turn to laugh. "Careful, I wouldn't want you to ruin my beautiful needlework."
Pitt gingerly eased himself to a sitting position and held out his hand.
"I'm grateful for what you did for the four of us."
Webster rose and shook Pitts outstretched hand. "An honor doctoring you, Mr. Pitt. I'll take my leave now. It seems you're the man of the hour. I think you have some distinguished visitors gathering outside."
"Goodbye, Doc, and thank you."
Webster gave a willk and a nod. Then he walked over to the door, opened it and motioned everyone inside.
Senator Pitt entered followed by Hala, Colonel Hollis and Captain Collins. The men shook hands, but Hala leaned down and lightly kissed Pitt.
"I hope you've found our ship's service satisfactory," said Captain Collins jovially.
"No man ever recuperated in a fancier hospital," Pitt replied. "I'm only sorry I can't bask in such luxury for another month."
"Unfortunately, your presence is required up north by tomorrow," said Hollis.
"Oh, no," Pitt moaned.
"Oh, yes," said the Senator, holding up his watch. "The Sounder will be towing us into dock at Punta Arenas in another ninety minutes. An Air Force transport is waiting to fly you and Ms. Kaniil and me to Washington."
Pitt made a helpless gesture with both hands. "So much for my luxury cruise."
Next came the usual round of solicitous questions concerning his condition. After a few minutes Hollis turned the conversation to his current problem.
"Would you know Ammar if you saw him again?" he asked Pitt.
"I could pick him out of a lineup easily enough. Didn't you find him? I gave you a detailed description of his height, weight and looks before Doc Webster knocked me out."
Hollis handed him a small stack of photos. "Here are pictures taken and processed by the ship's photographer of the hijackers' bodies, including those taken prisoner. Do you see Suleiman Aziz Ammar among them?"
Pitt slowly sifted through the photographs, studying the closeup features of the dead. They had seemed faceless during the battle, he recalled. He wondered with morbid curiosity which ones were dead by his hands. Finally he looked up and shook his head.
"He's not in here among the living or the dead."
"You're sure?" asked Hollis. "The wounds and deathlike expressions can badly alter facial features."
"I stood closer to him than I am to you under conditions that aren't easily forgotten. Believe me, Colonel, when I say Ammar isn't among those pictures."
Hollis pulled a larger photo from an envelope and passed it to Pitt without comment.
After a few seconds, Pitt gave Hollis a questioning look. "What do you want me to say?"
"Is that Suleiman Aziz Ammar?"
Pitt handed the photograph back. "You know damn well it is, or you wouldn't magically produce a picture taken of him at a different time in a different place."
"I think what Colonel Hollis is holding back," said Dirk's father, "is that Anunar or his remains have yet to be found."
"Then his men must have hidden his body," Pitt said firmly. "I didn't miss. He took a shot in the shoulder and two in the face. I saw one of his men drag him to cover after he fell. No way he's running around."
"It's possible his body was buried," admitted Hollis. "An extensive air and land search failed to detect any sign of him on the island."
"So the fox hasn't been run to ground," Pitt said softly to himself.
The Senator looked at him. "What was that?"