Sahara (Dirk Pitt 11)

Another few moments of small talk and the big, tough looking Rangers appeared and began tenderly carrying the children and helping their mothers outside to a waiting transport helicopter that had set down on the parade ground. The Ranger medics, assisted by the exhausted UN medical team, then directed the evacuation of the wounded.

Giordino obtained a stretcher, and with Pitt hobbling on one end, gently carried Eva into the bright afternoon sun.

"I never thought I'd hear myself say the desert heat feels good," she murmured.

Two Rangers reached through the open cargo door of the helicopter. "We'll take her from here," said one.

"Put her in first class," Pitt smiled at the men. "She's a very special lady."

"Eva!" a voice thundered from inside the helicopter. Dr. Hopper sat up on a stretcher, a bandage covering half his bare chest and another across one side of his face. "Let us hope this flight has a more enjoyable destination than the last one."

"Congratulations, Doc," said Pitt. "I'm glad to see you came through."

"Got four of the beggars before one downed me with a hand grenade."

"Fairweather?" asked Pitt, not seeing the Britisher.

Hopper shook his head sadly. "He didn't make it."

Pitt and Giordino helped the Rangers tie down Eva's stretcher next to Hopper's. Then Pitt brushed her hair back with his hands. "You're in good company with the Doc."

She looked up at Pitt, wishing with all her heart that he could sweep her into his arms. "You're not coming?"

"Not this trip."

"But you need medical care," she protested.

"I have some unfinished business."

"You can't stay in Mali," she implored him. "You mustn't, not after all that's happened."

"Al and I came to West Africa to do a job. It isn't finished yet."

"Is this the end of us then?" she asked in a choking voice.

"No, nothing so final."

"When will I see you again?"

"Soon, if all goes well," he said sincerely.

She lifted her head, her eyes gleaming in the sunlight with unshed tears. Then she kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Please hurry."

Pitt and Giordino stepped back as the helicopter's pilot increased the rpms and the craft lifted off the ground, throwing up a maelstrom of dust inside the fort. They watched the chopper as it rose above the crumpled walls and swung toward the west.

Then Giordino turned to Pitt and nodded at his injuries. "We'd better get you patched up if you're about to do what I think you want to do."

Pitt insisted on waiting until all of the more seriously wounded were treated before he allowed a medic to remove the shrapnel from his left arm and shoulder, stitch them up along with the bullet hole in the flesh of his thigh, give him two shots for infection and one for pain, before padding him with bandages. Afterward, he and Giordino bid their goodbyes to Levant and Pembroke-Smythe before the UN officers were airlifted out with the surviving members of the UN team.

"You're not joining us?" asked Levant.

"The one who lies behind all this senseless slaughter cannot be allowed to walk away," Pitt answered cryptically.

"Yves Massarde?"

Pitt nodded silently.

"I wish you luck." He shook their hands. "Gentlemen, I can think of little more to say except to thank you for your services."