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"I think what Colonel Hollis is holding back," said Dirk's father, "is that Anunar or his remains have yet to be found."
"Then his men must have hidden his body," Pitt said firmly. "I didn't miss. He took a shot in the shoulder and two in the face. I saw one of his men drag him to cover after he fell. No way he's running around."
"It's possible his body was buried," admitted Hollis. "An extensive air and land search failed to detect any sign of him on the island."
"So the fox hasn't been run to ground," Pitt said softly to himself.
The Senator looked at him. "What was that?"
"Something Ammar said about a coyote and a fox when we met," Pitt replied pensively. Then he looked around at his audience. "I bet he's eluded the net. Anyone care to give me odds?"
Hollis gave Pitt a dark look instead. "You better hope he's deader than a barracuda in the desert, because if he isn't, the name of Dirk Pitt will head his next hit list."
Hala swept gracefully to the head of Pitts bed, wearing a gold silk dressing gown with a modernized hieroglyphic design. She placed her hand lightly around his shoulder.
"Dirk is very weak," she said in an even voice. "He needs a good meal and rest until it comes time to debark the ship. I suggest we leave him alone for the next hour."
Hollis slipped the photos back in the envelope and rose. "I'll have to say my goodbyes. A helicopter is waiting to take me back to Santa Inez to continue the search for Ammar."
"Give my best to Major Dillenger."
"I shall." Hollis seemed uneasy for a moment; then he approached the bed and shook hands. "I apologize, Dirk, to you and your friends. I sadly underrated you all. Anytime you want to transfer from NUMA to Special Operations Forces, I'll be the first to sign a recommendation."
"I wouldn't fit in too well." Pitt grinned. "I have this allergy to taking orders."
"Yes, so you've demonstrated," Hollis said, smiling faintly.
The Senator walked over and squeezed Pitts hand. "See you on deck."
"I'll bid my farewell there also," said Captain Collins.
Hala said nothing. She herded the men from the room. Then she slowly closed the door and turned the lock. She walked back until s
he stood beside the bed. The folds of the gown plunged and there was something in the casual way it draped her body that convinced Pitt she was naked beneath.
She proved it by loosening the sash and shrugging the gown from her shoulders. He heard the whisper of the silk as it slid down her soft flesh. She posed like a bronze statue, breasts thrust out, hands flattened against her thighs, one leg slightly in front of the otherShe reached down and pulled back the bedcovers.
"I owe you something," she said huskily.
Pitt caught his reflection in the mirrors on the closet doors. He wore only white gauze. top of his head and the side of his face were swathed in bandages, as was one side of his neck and the wounded leg. He hadn't shaved in a week and the whites of his eyes were red. In his mind he looked like a derelict any self-respecting bag lady would re-ject.
"I'm a sorry excuse for Don Juan," he murmured
"You're handsome in my eyes," Hala whispered as she gently lay beside him and gently entwine her fingers through the hairs of his chest. "We must hurry. We have less than an hour."
Pitt let out a long sigh. He would catch hell from Doc Webster if he overexerted and pulled out his stitches. Abject surrender. Why is it, he wondered, men plan more covert schemes than an intelligence agency to seduce women, only to have them Turn on under crazy circumstances when you least expect it? He was more convinced than ever that James Bond really didn't have it all that great.
When Ammar awoke, he saw only blackness. His shoulder felt as though a piece of coal were burning inside his flesh. He tried to lift his hands to his face but one hand exploded with pain. Then he remembered bullets slamming into his wrist and shoulder. He raised his good hand to touch his eyes but the fingertips felt only a tightly bound cloth that wrapped around his head, covering his face from forehead to chin.
He knew his eyes were beyond saving. Not for him a life of blindness, he thought. He groped around for a weapon, anything to kill himself.
All he touched was a damp, flat rock surface.
Ammar became desperate, unable to repress the fear of helplessness. He struggled to his feet, stumbled and fell.
Then two hands gripped his shoulders.
"Do not move or make a cry, Suleiman Aziz," came the whispered words of Ibn. "The Americans are searching for us ."
