Treasure (Dirk Pitt 9)

"Have you been briefed on the U.N. charter crash?" the President asked, suddenly changing tack.

"No, sir," replied Nichols. "My only information is that Hala Kamil survived."

"She and two crew members. The rest died from poison."

"Poison?" Nichols blurted incredulously.

"That's the word from the investigators. They believe the pilot tried to poison everyone on board before parachuting from the plane over Iceland."

"The pilot must have been an imposter."

"We won't know till a body is found, warm or cold."

"Christ, what terrorist movement would have a motive for murdering over fifty U.N. representatives?"

"So far none have claimed credit for the disaster. According to Martin Brogan at CIA, if it is the work of terrorists, they stepped out of character on this one."

"Hala Karnil might have been the target," suggested Nichols. "Akhmad Yazid has sworn to eliminate her."

"We can't ignore the possibility," the President admitted.

"Have the news media gotten wind of it?"

"The story will be all over the papers and TV in the next hour. I saw no reason to hold it back."

"Is there anything you'd like me to do, Mr. President?"

"I'd appreciate it, Dale, if you'd monitor reaction from President De Lorenzo's people. There were eleven delegates and agency representatives from Mexico on the flight. Offer condolences in my name and any cooperation within limits. Oh, yes, you'd better keep Julius Schiller over at the State Department informed so we don't stumble over each other."

"I'll get my staff right on it."

"And let me know the minute you hear from Rivas."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Nichols hung up and forced his attention back to the file. He began to wonder if Topiltzin was somehow connected with the U.N. murder. If only there was a thread he could grasp.

Nichols was not a detective. He had no talent for coldly dissecting a prime suspect layer by layer until he knew what made the man tick. His academic specialty was in systems projections of international political movements.

Topiltzin was an enigma to him. Hitler had a misguided vision of Aryan supremacy. Driven by religious fervor, Khomeini wanted to return the Middle East to the Muslim fulldamentals of the Dark Ages. Lenin preached a crusade of world Communism.

What was Topiltzin's objective?

A Mexico of the Aztecs? A return to the past? No modern society could function under such archaic rules. Mexico was not a nation to be run on the fantasies of a Don Quixote. There had to be another driving force behind the man. Nichols was conjecturing in a vacuum. He glimpsed Topiltzin only as a caricature, a villain in a cartoon series.

His secretary entered unannounced and laid a file folder on his desk.

"The report you asked for from the CIA-and you have a call on line three."

"Who is it?"

"A James Gerhart," she replied.

"White House security," said Nichols. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"Only that it was urgent."

Nichols became curious. He answered the call. "This is Dale Nichols."