Massarde nodded at Pitt. "Besides, you can still have your fun with this one and his friend. I'm sure they will tell you what you wish to learn."
"They will talk before noon."
"I'm quite sure they will."
"Thank you for softening them up in your engine room sweat box."
"My pleasure." Massarde walked to a side door. "Now if you will excuse me, I must see to my guests. I've ignored them far too long."
"A favor," said Kazim.
"You have but to name it."
"Keep Mr. Pitt and Mr. Giordino in your steam room for a while longer. I would like any remaining spirit and hostility melted away before I have them transported to my headquarters in Bamako."
"As you wish," Massarde agreed. "I'll instruct my crew to return Mr. Pitt to the bilge."
"Thank you, Yves, my friend, for capturing and turning them over to me. I'm grateful."
Massarde bowed his head. "My pleasure."
Before the door closed behind Massarde, Kazim refocused his attention on Pitt. His black eyes blazed with fiendishness. Pitt could only remember once before seeing such concentrated malevolence in a human face.
"Enjoy your stay in the sweat bilge, Mr. Pitt. Afterward, you will suffer, suffer beyond your wildest nightmares."
If Kazim expected Pitt to tremble with fear, it didn't happen. If anything, Pitt looked incredibly calm. He wore the beaming expression of a man who just hit a jackpot on a slot machine. Inwardly, Pitt was rejoicing because the General had unwittingly unraveled the hitch in his escape plans. The gate had cracked open, and Pitt was going to slip through.
Too wound up to sleep, Eva was the first of the dozing scientists to notice the descent of the aircraft. Though the pilots feathered the controls as gently as possible, Eva sensed the slight drop in engine power and knew the plane had lost altitude when her ears suddenly popped.
She looked out the window, but all she saw was total blackness. There were no lights to be seen on the empty desert floor. A glance at her watch told her it was ten past midnight, only one and a half short hours since they loaded the last of the equipment and contamination samples on board and took off from the graveyard that was Asselar.
She sat quietly and relaxed, thinking that perhaps the pilots were simply turning on a new course and changing altitude. But the sinking sensation in her stomach told her the plane was still dropping.
Eva rose into the aisle and walked to the rear of the cabin where Hopper exiled himself so he could smoke his pipe. She approached his seat and gently shook him awake. "Frank, something's wrong."
Hopper was a light sleeper and almost instantly focused his eyes and looked up at her questioningly. "What did you say?"
"The plane is descending. I think we're landing."
"Nonsense," he snorted. "Cairo is five hours away."
"No, I heard the engines slack off."
"The pilots have probably throttled back to conserve fuel."
"We're losing altitude. I'm sure of it."
Hopper reacted to the seriousness of her tone and sat up and tilted his head, listening to the engines. Then he leaned over his armrest and peered down the aisle toward the forward bulkhead of the passenger cabin. "I believe you're right. The nose seems angled down slightly."
Eva nodded toward the cockpit. "The pilots have always kept the door open during flight. It's closed now."
"Does appear odd, but I'm sure we're overreacting." He threw off the blanket covering his large frame and stiffly rose to a standing position. "However, it won't hurt to have a look."
Eva followed him up the aisle to the cockpit door. Hopper turned the knob and his face suddenly clouded with concern. "The damn thing's locked." He pounded on the door, but after a few moments there was no response. If anything, the aircraft's angle of descent increased. "Something mighty queer is going on. You better wake the others."
Eva hurried back down the aisle and prodded the other members of the team out of their weary sleep. Grimes was the first to reach Hopper.