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"The safety criteria the French waste experts have created are stringent. Before burial in the deep rock it will be encased in concrete and then in a stainless-steel cylinder. This is surrounded by a layer of asphalt and a cast-iron enclosure. Finally, a backfill of concrete is poured around the container before it is embedded in the rock."
Chapman grinned from ear to ear. "My compliments, Dirk. You've put together a world-class waste disposal site."
"Another bit of interesting news," said Sandecker. "Our government and that of Mongolia have shut down Massarde's hazardous waste projects in the Mojave and Gobi Deserts after surprise inspections by a team of international waste investigators found them to be substandard and unsafe."
"The Australian outback installation was also closed," Chapman added.
Pitt sat back and sighed. "I'm happy to hear Massarde is out of the waste disposal business."
"Speaking of the Scorpion," said Giordino, "how's his condition?"
"He was buried in Tripoli yesterday," replied Sandecker. "CIA agents reported that just before he died, he went insane and tried to make a meal of a doctor."
"The perfect ending," Giordino muttered sardonically.
"By the way," said Sandecker. "The President sends his warmest regards and thanks. Says he's going to issue a special citation of merit for your achievement."
Pitt and Giordino turned to each other and shrugged indifferently.
Sandecker chose to ignore the display of distaste. "You might be interested in knowing that for the first time in two decades, our State Department is working closely with the new Malian parliament. Much of the improved relations were due to you turning all profits from the project over to the government to aid their social programs."
"It seemed the proper thing to do since we couldn't profit by it," said Pitt benevolently.
"Any chance of a coup by the army?" inquired Gunn.
"Without Kazim, the inner core of his officers fell apart. To a man they crawled on their knees and swore undying allegiance to the leaders of the new government."
"It's been almost a month since any of us have seen your ugly faces in person," Sandecker smiled. "Your job is finished in the Sahara. When can I expect you back in Washington?"
r /> "Even the turmoil and mess of the nation's capital would look good after this place," muttered Giordino.
"A week's vacation would be nice," Pitt answered seriously. "I have to ship something home and take care of some personal business. And then there's a little historical project I'd like to investigate here in the desert."
"The Texas?"
"How did you know?"
"St. Julien Perlmutter whispered in my ear."
"I'd be grateful for a favor, Admiral."
Sandecker made an act of shrugging condescendingly. "I guess I owe you a little free time."
"Please arrange for Julien to fly to Mali as quickly as possible."
"With Julien weighing in at 180 kilograms," Sandecker looked at Pitt roguishly, "you'll never get him on a camel."
"Much less induce him to trek over blistering sand under a blazing sun," Gunn joined in.
"If I'm right," said Pitt, staring through the monitor at them in amusement, "all I'll need to get Julien to walk twenty paces across desert terrain is a bottle of chilled Chardonnay."
"Before I forget," Sandecker spoke up, "the Aussies were overjoyed at your discovery of Kitty Mannock and her aircraft. You and Giordino are national heroes according to the Sydney papers."
"Do they have plans for a recovery?"
"A wealthy rancher from her home town has agreed to fund the operation. He plans to restore the plane and hang it in a museum in Melbourne. A recovery team should be at the location you provided by tomorrow."
"And Kitty?"
