Sahara (Dirk Pitt 11)

Fortunately, the river flowed free of debris, and Pitt's calculations were only slightly off. They crossed into the Republic of Niger within eighteen minutes under skies and waters empty of security forces. Four hours later they were moored to the refueling dock at the capital city of Niamey. After taking on fuel and enduring the traditional hassle from West African immigration officials, they were allowed to proceed on their way again.

As the buildings of Niamey and the bridge over the river named for John F. Kennedy receded in the Calliope's wake, Giordino spoke in a brisk, cheerful voice.

"So far, so good. Things can't get worse than they already are."

"Not good," Pitt said at the wheel. "And things can get a whole lot worse."

Giordino looked at him. "Why the gloom? The people in these parts don't seem to have a beef with us."

"It went too easy," said Pitt slowly. "Things don't work that way in this part of the world. Certainly not in Africa, not after our little altercation with the Benin gunboats. Did you notice while we were showing our passports and ship's papers to the immigration officials there wasn't a policeman or armed military guard in sight?"

"Coincidence?" Giordino shrugged. "Or maybe just lax procedure?"

"Neither," Pitt shook his head solemnly. "I've a hunch somebody is playing games with us."

"You think the Niger authorities knew about our run-in with the Benin navy?"

"Word travels fast here, and I'm willing to bet it's traveled ahead of us. The Benin military most certainly alerted the Niger government."

Giordino was not sold. "Then why didn't the local bureaucrats arrest us?"

"I haven't a clue," said Pitt pensively.

"Sandecker?" offered Giordino. "Maybe he intervened."

Pitt shook his head. "The Admiral may be a big gun in Washington, but he has no sway here."

"Then somebody wants something we've got."

"Seems to be heading in that direction."

"But what?" asked Giordino in exasperation. "Our data on the contaminant?"

"Except for the three of us, Sandecker, and Chapman, no one knows the purpose of our project. Unless there's a leak, it has to be something else."

"Like what?"

Pitt grinned. "Would you believe our boat?"

"The Calliope!" Giordino was frankly disbelieving. "You'll have to do better than that."

"No," stated Pitt flatly. "Think about it. A highly specialized craft, built in secrecy, capable of 70 knots, and with enough sting to take out a helicopter and two gunboats within three minutes. Any West African military leader would give his eyeteeth to get his hands on her."

"Okay, I'll accept that," Giordino said grudgingly. "But answer me this. If the Calliope is so desirable, why wasn't she grabbed by Niger goons while we were standing around the refueling dock in Niamey?"

"A shot in the dark? Okay, somebody cut a deal."

"Who?"

"Don't know."

"Why?"

"Can't say."

"So when does the axe fall?"

"They've let us get this far, so the answer must lie in Mali."