Treasure (Dirk Pitt 9)

"Sounds crazy to me," said Lily, uncomprehending.

The lady was only half right, Pitt thought. His plan was twice as crazy as anything she could conceive. But he kept everyone in the dark. He didn't think now was the right time to tell them he planned to take his act on the stage.

The green Volvo with the taxi markings stopped at the drive of Yazid's villa near Alexandria. The Egyptian army guards, who were posted by the personal order of President Hasan, stiffened into alertness at the gate as the taxi sat there without anyone's getting out.

Ammar sat in the back seat, his eyes and jaw heavily bandaged. He wore a blue silk robe and a small red turban. His Only medical treatment since escaping Santa Inez had come during a two-hour visit to a back-street Buenos Aires surgeon before chartering a private jet to fly him across the ocean to the small airport outside the city.

He no longer felt pain in his empty eye sockets. The drugs took care of that, but it was still agony to speak through his shattered jaw. And although he felt a strange sense of tranquility, his mind functioned as ruthlessly and efficiently as ever.

"We ate here," said Ibn from the driver's seat.

Ammar visualized Yazid's vffla in his mind-every detail as if he could actually see. "I know," he said simply.

"You do not have to do this g, Suleiman Aziz."

"I have no more hopes or fears. " Ammar spoke slowly, fighting the pain of each syllable. "It is the will of Allah."

Ibn swung from behind the wheel, opened the rear door and helped Ammar to climb out. He led Ammar up the driveway and turned him so he faced the heavily guarded gate.

"The gate is five meters in front of you," Ibn spoke haltingly in a voice heavy with emotion. He gently embraced Ammar. "Goodbye, Suleiman Aziz. I will miss you."

"Do what you promised, my friend, and we will meet in Allah's gar-den."

Ibn quickly turned and retraced his steps to the car. Ammar stood without moving until he heard the sound of the engine fade in the distance. Then he approached the gate.

"Stop right there, blind man," ordered a guard.

"I have come to visit my nephew, Akhmad Yazid," said Ammar.

The guard nodded to another, who disappeared into a small office and came out with a folder containing twenty or so names.

"Uncle, you say. What's your name?"

Ammar enjoyed making his last play as an impostor. He had collected on an old debt from a colonel in Abu Haniid's Defense Ministry and received the list of names of those permitted entry into Yazid's villa. He selected one who couldn't be immediately contacted.

"Mustapha Mahfouz."

"Your name is here all light. Let's see your identification."

The guard studied Ammar's counterfeit ID, fruitlessly trying to compare the photo with the heavily bandaged features.

"What happened to your face?"

"The car bomb that exploded in the bazaar at El Mansura. I was struck by flying debris."

"Too bad," the guard said without sincerity. "You can blame your nephew. It was his followers who set it off." He gestured to a subordinate. "If he clears the metal detector, guide him up to the house."

Ammar held out his arms as if he expected to be frisked.

"No need for a body search, Mahfouz. if you're carrying a weapon, the machine will spot it."

The metal detector revealed nothing and did not sound.

The front door: Ammar gloated as the Egyptian army security guard led him up the steps to the front door. No having to sneak in a side passage this time. He sorely wished he could see the look on Yazid's face when they met.

He was guided into what he perceived to be a large entry hall by the echo of the guard's boots on the tile floor. He was helped to a stone bench, and he sat down.

"Wait here."