Sahara (Dirk Pitt 11)

"I'll do as you ask," he moaned softly.

"Let me hear it again," Pitt demanded.

"All records and information on Massarde Enterprises, I will turn them over to you for investigation."

"That includes unrecorded records on illegal and immoral activities as well."

"I will supply what isn't on paper or computerized."

There was a brief silence. Pitt stared out the window at Massarde. Even at that distance he could see the white skin had turned a deep red. He rose stiffly from behind the desk and put a hand on Giordino's shoulder.

"Al, he's your project. Extract every shred of evidence out of him you can."

Giordino put his arm around Verenne, who cringed. "We'll have a real friendly rap session you and I"

"Work on the names of the people Massarde victimized or murdered. Those first."

"Any particular reason?" Giordino asked curiously.

"When the time is right for a voyage to Clipperton Island and a search proves successful, I'd like to set up an organization to use Massarde's stashed wealth to pay back those he hurt and the surviving families of those he killed."

"Mr. Massarde will never permit that," Verenne muttered hoarsely.

"Speaking of our favorite villain," said Pitt, "I think he's baked in the oven long enough."

The front of Massarde's body looked like a shellfish after it had been broiled in a pot. Already he was in excruciating agony, his skin blistering. By the next morning it would begin to peel in huge strips. He stood there without support between Brunone and two impassive guards, motionless, his lips drawn back like a snarling dog, his reddened face contorted in rage and hate:

"You cannot do this to me and live," he hissed. "Even if I'm killed, I have devised methods to make those responsible pay."

"An avenging hit team," said Pitt dryly. "How foresighted of you. After cooking in the sun, you must be tired and thirsty. Please take a chair. AI, bring Mr. Massarde a bottle of his special French mineral water."

Massarde very slowly eased into a soft leather chair, his face suddenly taut from agony. Settled finally in a comfortable position, he took a deep breath. "You are fools if you think you can get away with this. Kazim has ambitious officers who will quickly step into his place, men who are as vicious and cunning as he was, and who will send a force to bury you in the desert before the next sun."

He reached for the bottle of water held out to him by Giordino and swallowed its entire contents within seconds. Without being asked, Giordino handed him another.

Pitt couldn't help but admire Massarde's incomparable nerve. The man acted as if he was in complete control of his situation:

Massarde finished off the second bottle and then looked around his office for his personal secretary. "Where is Verenne?"

"Dead," Pitt said tersely.

For the first time Massarde looked genuinely surprised. "You murdered him?"

Pitt shrugged indifferently. "He tried to stab Giordino here. Stupid of him to attack a man carrying a gun with a letter opener."

"He did that?" Massarde asked warily.

"I can show you the body if you like."

"Not at all like Verenne. He was a coward."

Pitt exchanged glances with Giordino. Verenne had already been put to work and was under guard in an office two floors below.

"I've got a proposition for you," said Pitt.

"What deal could you possibly make with me?" snarled Massarde.

"I've had a change of heart. If you promise to mend your crooked ways, I'll let you walk from this room, board your helicopter, and leave Mali."