Sahara (Dirk Pitt 11)

"A national holiday when her body is returned. I was told by the Australian ambassador that contributions are pouring in from all over the country for a memorial over her proposed grave site."

"Our country should contribute too, especially the South."

Curious, Sandecker asked, "What is our connection with her?"

"She's going to lead us to the Texas, " answered Pitt matter-of-factly.

Sandecker exchanged questioning looks with the NUMA men around the table. Then he refaced Pitt's image in the monitor and said, "We'd all be interested in knowing how a woman who's been dead for sixty-five years can pull off that little trick."

"I found Kitty's logbook in the wreckage," Pitt replied slowly. "She describes her discovery of a ship before she died, an iron ship buried in the desert."

"Good lord!" Perlmutter uttered as he peered out the helicopter's windshield at the sunrise illuminating the dead land below. "You walked through that?"

"Actually, we sailed across this section of the desert in our improvised land yacht," Pitt answered. "We're flying our trek in reverse."

Perlmutter had flown into Algiers on a military jet, and then caught a commercial airliner to the small desert city of Adrar in southern Algeria. There, Pitt and Giordino had met him shortly after midnight and escorted him aboard a helicopter they'd borrowed from the project's French construction crew.

After refueling, they headed south, spotting the land yacht just after dawn, lying forlornly on its side where they had left it after their rescue by the Arab truck driver. They landed and dismantled the old wing, cables, and wheels that had saved their lives, lashing the pieces to the landing skids of the helicopter. Then they lifted off with Pitt at the controls and set a course for the ravine that held Kitty Mannock's lost aircraft:

During the flight, Perlmutter read over a copy Pitt had made of Kitty's logbook. "What a courageous lady," he said in admiration. "With only a few swallows of water, a broken ankle, and a badly sprained knee, she hobbled nearly 16 kilometers under the most wretched conditions."

"And that was only one way," Pitt reminded him. "After stumbling on the ship in the desert, she limped back to her aircraft."

"Yes, here it is," said Perlmutter, reading aloud.

Wednesday, October 14. Extreme heat. Becoming very miserable. Followed ravine southward until it finally opened out onto a wide, dry riverbed, I estimate about 10 miles from plane. Have trouble sleeping in the bitter cold nights. This afternoon I found a strange-looking ship half buried, in the desert. Thought I was hallucinating, but after touching the sloping sides of iron, I realized it was real. Entered around an old cannon protruding through an opening and spent the night. Shelter at last.

Thursday, October 15. Searched interior of ship. Too dark to see very much. Found several remains of the former crew. Very well preserved. Must have been dead a long time judging from the look of their uniforms. A plane flew over, but did not see the ship. I could not climb outside in time to signal. It was traveling in the direction of my crash. I will never be found here and have decided to return to my plane in the chance it has been discovered. I know now it was a mistake to try and walk out. If searchers found my plane they could never follow my trail. The wind has blown sand over it like snow in a blizzard. The desert has its own game, and I cannot beat it.

Perlmutter paused and looked up. "That explains why you found the logbook with her entries at the crash site. She carne back in the vain hope the search planes had found hers."

"What were her last words?" asked Giordino.

Perlmutter turned a page and continued reading.

Sunday, October 18. Returned to plane but have seen to sign of rescue party. Am pretty well done in. If I am round after I'm gone, please forgive the grief I've caused. A kiss for my mum and dad. Tell them I tried to die bravely. I cannot write more, my brain no longer controls my hand.

When Perlmutter finished, each man felt a deep sense of sadness and melancholy. They were all moved by Kitty's epic fight to survive. Tough guys to the end, they all fought to suppress their glistening eyes.

"She could have taught a lot of men the meaning of courage," Pitt said heavily.

Perlmutter nodded. "Thanks to her endurance, another great mystery may be solved."

"She gave us a ball park," acknowledged Pitt. "All we have to do is follow the ravine south until it opens into an old riverbed and start our search for the ironclad from there."

Two hours later, the Aussie recovery team paused in their task of carefully dismantling the weathered remains of Kitty Mannock's old Fairchild airplane and looked up as a helicopter appeared and circled the ravine containing the wreckage. Smiles broke out as the Hussies recognized the missing wing and landing gear tied to the chopper's landing skids.

Pitt eased back on the cyclic control and brought the craft to a gentle landing on the flat ground above the ravine to avoid covering the recovery workers and their equipment in a tornado of dust and sand. He shut down the engines and checked his watch. It was eight-forty A.M., a few hours shy of the hottest time of day.

St. Julien Perlmutter shifted his bulk in the copilot's seat in preparation for his exit. "I wasn't built for these contraptions," he grumbled as the full blast of the heat hit him upon exiting the air-conditioned cabin.

"Beats the hell out of walking," Giordino said as he surveyed the familiar ground. "Believe me, I know."

A big, brawny Aussie with a ruddy face climbed from the ravine and approached them. "Allo there, you must be Dirk Pitt."

"I'm Al Giordino, he's Pitt." Giordino gestured over his shoulder.