Sahara by Clive Cussler

resolved.”
    “You’re overreacting,” Hopper said to Yerli. “How do you vote, Eva? Cancel the mission or go?”
    “I’ll risk it,” said Eva. “But I can’t speak for the other team members.”
    Hopper stared at the floor, nodding his head. “Then we’ll ask for volunteers. I won’t cancel the Mali mission, not with hundreds, maybe thousands, of people dying out there from something nobody can explain. I’ll lead the team myself.”
    “No, Frank!” snapped Eva. “What if the worst happens? You’re too valuable to lose.”
    “It’s our duty to report this affair to the police before you run off half-cocked,” Yerli persisted.
    “Get serious, Ismail,” said Hopper impatiently. “Go to the local police and they’re liable to hold us up and delay the entire mission. We could be bound in red tape for a month. I’ll not walk into the clutches of Middle East bureaucracy.”
    “My contacts can cut the red tape,” pleaded Yerli.
    “No,” Hopper said adamantly. “I want all teams on board our chartered aircraft and in the air toward their designated locations as scheduled.”
    “Then we’re on for tomorrow morning,” said Eva.
    Hopper nodded. “No hang-ups, no rainchecks. We’re going to put our show on the road first thing in the morning.”
    “You’re needlessly endangering lives,” murmured Yerli.
    “Not if I take out insurance.”
    Yerli looked at Hopper, not comprehending. “Insurance?”
    “Actually a press conference. Before we leave, I’ll call in every foreign correspondent and news service in Cairo and explain our project with special emphasis on Mali. Of course, I’ll make mention of the potential dangers involved. Then, in light of the international publicity surrounding our presence in his country, General Kazim will think twice before threatening the lives of scientists on a well-publicized mission of mercy.”
    Yerli sighed heavily. “For your sakes, I hope so. I truly hope so.”
    Eva came over and sat down by the Turk. “It will be all right,” she insisted quietly. “No harm will come to us.”
    “Nothing I can say will talk you out of it? You must go then?”
    “There are thousands who might die if we don’t,” said Hopper firmly.
    Yerli stared sadly at them, then bowed his head in silent acceptance, his face suddenly pale.
    “Then may Allah protect you, because if he doesn’t, you will surely die.”

6
    Pitt was standing in the lobby of the Nile Hilton when Eva stepped from the elevator. He was dressed in a tan poplin suit with single-breasted jacket and pleated pants. The shirt was a light shade of blue with a wide Botticelli tie of deep blue silk with black and gold paisleys.
    He stood casual and loose, his hands clasped behind his back, head tilted slightly to one side, as he studied a beautiful, young, raven-haired Egyptian woman in a tight-fitting gold sequin dress. She was sweeping across the lobby in a blaze of glitter, hooked arm in arm with an elderly man easily three times her age. She jabbered every step across the carpet. Her ample bottom swung back and forth like a melon on a pendulum.
    There was nothing in Pitt’s expression to suggest lust. He stared at the performance with a detached sort of curiosity. Eva walked up behind him and placed her hand on his elbow. “You like her?” she asked, smiling.
    Pitt turned and looked down at her through the greenest eyes she had ever seen. His lips raised in a slight crooked grin that Eva found devastating. “She does make a statement.”
    “Is she your type?”
    “No, I prefer quiet, intelligent women.”
    His voice was deep with a mellow quality, she thought. She smelled a faint aroma of men’s cologne, not the pungent variety brewed by French perfume companies for fashion designers’ private labels, but a more masculine scent. “I hope I can take that as a compliment.”
    “You may.”
    She flushed, and her eyes unconsciously lowered. “I have an early-morning flight tomorrow, so I should get