"Pitt and Giordino are still out there searching for it," Gunn reminded them.
"Any late word of their condition or whereabouts?" asked Hodge.
"Nothing since Pitt's call aboard Yves Massarde's boat," replied Sandecker.
Hodge looked up from his notepad. "Yves Massarde? God, not that pond slime."
"You know him?"
Hodge nodded. "I crossed paths with him after a bad chemical spill in the Med off Spain four years ago. One of his ships that was carrying waste carcinogenic chemicals known as PCBs for disposal in Algeria broke up and sank in a storm. I personally think the ship was scuttled in a combination insurance scam and illegal dump. As it turned out, Algerian officials never had any intention of accepting the waste for disposal. Then Massarde lied and cheated and pulled every legal dodge on the books to evade responsibility for cleaning up the mess. You shake hands with that guy and you better count your fingers when you walk away."
Gunn turned to Webster. "Intelligence-gathering satellites can read newspapers from space. Why can't we orbit one over the desert north of Gao in search of Pitt and Giordino?"
Webster shook his head. "Negative. My contacts at the National Security Agency have their best eyes in the sky keeping tabs on the new Chinese rocket firings, the civil war going on in the Ukraine, and the border clashes with Syria and Iraq. They're not about to spare us time from their intelligence scans to find civilians in the Sahara Desert. I can go with the latest-model GeoSat. But it's questionable whether it can distinguish human forms against the uneven terrain of a desert like the Sahara."
"Wouldn't they show up against a sand dune?" asked Chapman.
Webster shook his head. "No one traveling the Sahara in their right mind would walk across the soft sand of dunes. Even the nomads skirt around them. Wandering in a sea of dunes means certain death. Pitt and Giordino are smart enough to avoid them like the plague."
"But you will do a search and survey," Sandecker insisted.
Webster nodded. He was quite bald with little indication of a neck. A round belly hung over his belt, and he might have posed as a "before" on a weight-loss commercial. "I've a good friend who's a top analyst over at the Pentagon and an expert on satellite desert reconnaissance. I think I can sweet-talk him into examining our GeoSat photos with his state-of-the-art enhancing computers."
"I'm grateful for your backup," Sandecker said sincerely.
"If they're out there, he can locate them if anyone can," Webster promised him.
"Has your satellite seen any sign of the plane carrying that team of disease investigators?" asked Muriel.
"Not yet I'm afraid. Nothing showed on our last pass across Mali except a small smudge of smoke faintly drifting in from one side of our camera path. Hopefully on the next orbit we can obtain a more detailed picture. It may prove to be nothing but a nomad bonfire."
"There isn't enough wood in that part of the Sahara for a bonfire," Sandecker said solemnly.
Gunn looked lost. "What disease investigation team are you talking about?"
"A group of scientists from the World Health Organization on a mission to Mali," explained Muriel. "They were searching for the cause behind an outbreak of strange afflictions reported in nomadic desert villages. Their plane disappeared somewhere between Mali and Cairo."
"Was there a woman on the team? A biochemist?"
"A Dr. Eva Rojas was the team biochemist," replied Muriel. "I once worked with her on a project in Haiti."
"Did you know her?" asked Sandecker of Gunn.
"Not me, but Pitt. He dated her in Cairo."
"Maybe it's just as well he doesn't know," Sandecker said. "He must have enough problems just staying alive without bad news to fog his mind."
"There's no confirmation of a crash yet," said Holland hopefully.
"Maybe they made a forced landing in the desert and survived," Muriel said hopefully.
Webster shook his head. "Wishful thinking I'm afraid. I fear General Zateb Kazim has his dirty h
ands in this business."
Gunn recalled, "Pitt and Giordino had a conversation with the General on our boat's radio shortly before I hit the river. I got the impression he's a nasty customer."
"As ruthless as any Middle East dictator," said Sandecker. "And twice as hard to deal with. He won't even meet or speak with our State Department diplomats unless they hand him a fat foreign aid check."