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"What kind of a diversion?"
"They are about to report they have turned up no trace of contamination or its victims-"
"General Kazim's brilliant plan to keep them out of the contaminated areas has been successful," Mansa interrupted him.
"Until now," said Batutta. "But they have begun to see through the General's ploy. Dr. Hopper intends to announce the closing down of the project, then lead his people back to Timbuktu where they will depart in their chartered aircraft for Cairo."
"The General will be most pl
eased."
"Not when he learns Hopper has no intention of leaving Mali."
"What are you saying?" demanded Mansa.
"Their plan is to bribe the pilots to set the plane down in the desert and launch a new investigation into our nomadic villages for the contamination."
Mansa's mouth suddenly felt as if it was filled with sand. "This could prove to be disastrous. The General will be most angry when he hears of it."
"Not our fault," Batutta said quickly.
"You know his wrath. It falls on the innocent as well as the guilty."
"We have done our duty," Batutta replied resolutely.
"Keep me informed of Hopper's movements," Mansa ordered. "I'll make your report in person to the General."
"He's in Timbuktu?"
"No, Gao. As luck would have it, he's on Yves Massarde's yacht, moored in the river just off the city. I'll take a military transport and be there in half an hour."
"Good luck to you, Colonel."
"Stay on Hopper every second. Inform me of any change in Hopper's plans."
"As you order."
Mansa hung up and stared at the phone, sorting out the complications of Batutta's intelligence revelation. If undetected, Hopper might have fooled them all and discovered victims of the contamination out in the Sahara where no one thought to search. That would have spelled calamity. Captain Batutta had saved him from a very messy situation, possibly even his execution under trumped-up charges of treason, Kazim's routine exercise for eliminating officers who displeased him. It was a near thing. By catching Kazim in the right mood, he might even wheedle a promotion to the general staff.
Mansa called to his aide in the office outside to fetch his dress uniform and ready an aircraft. He began to sense a creeping euphoria. Near catastrophe would turn into an opportunity to annihilate the foreign intruders.
A speedboat was waiting at the dock under a mosque when Mansa stepped from the military command car that carried him from the airport. A uniformed crewman whipped off the bow and stern lines and jumped down into the cockpit. He pressed the ignition switch and the big V-8 Citroen marine engine roared to life.
Massarde's yacht swung in the middle of the river on its' bow anchor, lights reflecting in the rippling current. The yacht was actually a self-propelled houseboat three stories high. Its flat bottom enabled it to easily cruise up and down the river during the seasons of high water.
Mansa had never been on board, but he'd heard stories of the glass-domed spiral staircase that ascended from the spacious master suite to the heliport. The ten sumptuous staterooms furnished in French antiques, the high-ceilinged dining room with murals from the time of Louis XIV taken from the walls of a Loire River chateau, the steam rooms, sauna, Jacuzzis, and cocktail bar in a revolving observation lounge, and the electronic communication systems linking Massarde to his worldwide empire, they all worked together to make the mansion on the water unlike anything ever built.
As the Colonel climbed from the boat onto the gangway and up the teak steps, he had hopes of seeing something of the luxurious craft, but his expectations turned sour when Kazim met him on the deck beside the gangway. He was holding a glass half filled with champagne. He made no effort to offer Mansa one.
"I hope your interruption of my business conference with Monsieur Massarde is as urgent as you implied in your message," Kazim said coldly.
Mansa saluted smartly and began a hurried but precise briefing, embellishing the facts and polishing the details of Batutta's report on the United Nations World Health team, but never mentioning the captain by name.
Kazim listened with curious interest. His dark eyes deepened and stared unseeing into the glistening lights of the houseboat dancing on the water. A worried crease appeared in his face, but this was soon replaced with a tight smile across his lips.
When Mansa finished speaking, Kazim asked, "When is Hopper and his caravan expected back in Timbuktu?"
"If they leave tomorrow morning, they should arrive by late afternoon."
