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A German correspondent from Der Spiegel stood up. "Couldn't the pollution be carried by winds?"
Hopper shook his head. "Not possible."
"How can you be so certain?"
"During the planning and construction stages, my fellow scientists and I at the World Health Organization were consulted every step of the way by the engineers of the Massarde Entreprises de Solaire Energie who own the facility. All hazardous waste is destroyed by solar energy and reduced to harmless vapor. The output is constantly monitored. No toxic emission is left to be carried on the wind and infect life hundreds of kilometers away."
An Egyptian television reporter thrust a microphone forward. "Are you receiving cooperation from the desert nations you plan to enter?"
"Most all have invited us with open arms," answered Hopper.
"You mentioned earlier there was reluctance on the part of President Tahir of Mali to allow your research team into his country."
"That's true, but once we're on site and demonstrate our humane intentions, I expect that he'll have a change of heart."
"So you don't feel you are endangering lives by prying into the affairs of President Tahir's government?"
The beginnings of anger stirred in Hopper's voice. "The real danger is malaise in the minds of his advisors. They ignore the sickness as if it doesn't exist by letting it go officially unnoticed."
"But do you think it is safe for your team to travel about Mali freely?" asked the correspondent from Reuters.
Hopper smiled a shrewd smile. The questions had turned in the direction he had hoped. "If tragedy should occur, I count on you, the ladies and gentlemen of the news media, to investigate and lay the wrath of the world on the doorstep of the guilty party."
After dinner, Pitt escorted Eva to her hotel door. She fumbled with the key nervously, unsure of herself. She -certainly had the excuse, she told herself, to invite him in. She owed him, and she wanted him. But Eva played by the rules of the old school and found it difficult to leap into bed with every man who showed an interest in her, even one who had saved her life.
Pitt noticed the faint shade of red rising from her neck into her face. He looked down into her eyes. They were as blue as a South Seas sky. He took her by the shoulders and gently pulled her to him. She tensed slightly but offered no resistance. "Postpone your flight."
She averted her face. "I can't."
"We may not meet again."
"I am bound by my work."
"And when you're free?"
"I'll return to my family home in Pacific Grove, California."
"A beautiful area. I've often entered a classic car in the Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance."
"It's lovely in June," she said, her voice suddenly trembling.
He smiled. "Then it's you and I and the Bay of Monterey."
It was as if they had become friends on an ocean voyage, a brief interlude that planted the seed of mutual attraction. He kissed her softly, and then stepped back. "Stay out of harm's way. I don't want to lose you."
Then he turned and walked toward the elevators.
For a century of centuries Egyptians and the vegetation have fought to maintain their precious toehold between the pewter-blue waters of the Nile and the yellow-brown sands of the Sahara. Winding 6500 kilometers from its headwaters in Central Africa to the Mediterranean, only the Nile of all the great rivers of the world flows north. Ancient, always present, ever alive The Nile is as alien to the arid North African landscape as it would be in the steamy atmosphere of the planet Venus.
The hot season had arrived along the river. The heat rolled over and settled on the water like an oppressive blanket pulled from the great sprawling desert to the west. The dawn sun came over the horizon with the fiery thrust of a poker, spawning a slight breeze that felt like a blast from an open furnace.
The serenity of the past met the technology of the present as a lateen-rigged felucca, manned by four young boys, sailed past a sleek research boat laden with state-of-the-art electronic gear. Seemingly little inconvenienced by the heat, the boys laughed and waved at the turquoise-colored boat heading on an opposite course downriver.
Pitt lifted his eyes from the high-resolution video screen of the subbottom profiler and waved back through a large port. The oven outside bothered him not at all. The interior of the research vessel was well air conditioned, and he sat comfortably in front of the computerized detection array sipping a glass of iced tea. He watched the felucca for a few moments, almost envying the boys as they scampered about the small deck and unfurled the sail to catch the breeze blowing upriver.
He turned his attention back to the monitor as an irregular anomaly began to creep across the screen in colored imagery. The vertical scan sensor of the subbottom profiler was recording a contact deep beneath the bottom silt below the moving water. At first it was merely an indistinct blob, but as the image was automatically enhanced the outline of an ancient ship began to materialize.
