Sahara (Dirk Pitt 11)

"You paint a grim picture, sir," said the President. "This is all but impossible for me to visualize."

"Let me put it this way, Mr. President. If you are reelected, the odds are you won't be around at the end of your term. Nor will you have a successor because there will be no one left to vote for him."

Willover wasn't buying any of it. "Come now, Admiral, why don't you put on a sheet and

walk around holding a sign saying the world ends at midnight? To think we'll see complete extinction of mankind by this time next year because of oversexed behavior by some microscopic organisms is too farfetched."

"The facts speak for themselves," said Sandecker patiently.

"Your deadline sounds like nothing more than a scare tactic," replied Willover. "Even if you're correct, our scientists still have ample time to invent a solution."

"Time we don't have. Let me give you a little illustration in simplified terms. Imagine that the red tide could double itself in size every week. If allowed to spread unhindered, it would cover every square kilometer of the earth's oceans in one hundred weeks. If history repeats itself, world governments will decide to shove aside the problem until the oceans are half covered. Only then do they institute a crash program to eliminate the red tide. My question to you, Mr. President, and you too, Mr. Willover, is what week will the oceans be covered by the tide, and how much time until the world can prevent disaster?"

The President exchanged confused looks with Willover. "I have no idea."

"Nor I," said Willover.

"The answer is the oceans will be half covered in ninety-nine weeks, and you would have only one week to act."

The President recognized the horrendous possibility with renewed respect. "I think we both get your point, Admiral."

"The red tide shows no sign of dying," Sandecker continued. "We now know the cause. That's a step in the right direction. The next problem is to cut off the contamination at the source, and then seek out another compound that will either stop or at least hinder the growth."

"Excuse me, Mr. President, but we must cut this short. You're supposed to have lunch with the Senate majority and minority leaders."

"Let them wait," the President said irritably. "Do you have a handle on where this stuff is coming from, Admiral?"

Sandecker shook his head. "Not yet, but we suspect it flows through an underground stream to the Niger River from the French solar detoxification project in the Sahara."

"How can we be certain?"

"My Special Projects Director and his right arm are inside Fort Foureau now."

"You are in contact with them."

Sandecker hesitated. "No, not exactly."

"Then how do you know this?" Willover pushed him.

"Intelligence satellite photos identified them penetrating the facility on board an incoming trail of hazardous material."

"Your Special Projects Director," mused the President. "Would that be Dirk Pitt?"

"Yes, and Al Giordino."

The President stared across the room, unseeing for a moment as he remembered. Then he smiled. "Pitt was the man who saved us from the Kaiten nuclear car bomb menace."

"One and the same."

"Is he by chance responsible for that debacle with the Benin navy on the Niger River?" asked Willover.

"Yes, but the blame is mine," said Sandecker. "Since my warnings went unheard, and I could get no cooperation from your staff or the Pentagon, I sent Pitt and two of NUMA's best men up the Niger to track the source of the compound."

"You ordered an unauthorized operation without permission into a foreign nation," Willover exploded furiously.

"I also persuaded Hala Kamil to lend me a UN tactical team to go into Mali and get my chief scientist and his data safely out of the country."

"You could have jeopardized our entire African policy."