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"Keep it running," answered Sandecker. "What's the status of my NUMA passenger jet?"
"Waiting on the ground at the Yuma Marine Corps Air Station to fly you and the others back to Washington."
"Okay, we're set to board." Sandecker turned to Pitt. "So, you're going on sick leave?"
"Loren and I thought we'd join a Classic Car Club of America tour through Arizona."
"I'll expect you in one week." He turned to Loren and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. "You're a member of Congress. Don't take any crap from him and see that he gets back in one piece, fit for work."
Loren smiled. "Don't worry, Admiral. My constituents want me back on the job infighting shape too."
"What about me?" said Giordino. "Don't I get time off to recuperate?"
"You can sit behind a desk just as easily in a wheelchair." Then Sandecker smiled fiendishly. "Now, Rudi, he's a different case. I think I'll send him to Bermuda for a month."
"Whatta guy," said Gunn, trying desperately to keep a straight face.
It was a charade. Pitt and Giordino were like sons to Sandecker. Nothing went on between them that wasn't marked with a high degree of respect. The admiral knew with dead certainty that as soon as they were sound and able, they'd be in his office pressuring him for an ocean project to direct.
Two dockhands lifted Giordino into the helicopter. One seat had to be removed to accommodate his outstretched legs.
Pitt leaned in the doorway and tweaked one of the toes that protruded from the cast. "Try not to lose this helicopter like all the others."
"No big deal," Giordino came back. "I get one of these things every time I buy ten gallons of gas."
Gunn placed his hand on Pitt's shoulder. "It's been fun," he said lightly. "We must do it again sometime."
Pitt made a horrified face. "Not on your life."
Sandecker gave Pitt a light hug. "You rest up and take it easy," he said softly so the others couldn't hear above the beat of the rotor blades. "I'll see you when I see you."
"I'll make it soon."
Loren and Pitt stood on the deck of the ferryboat and waved until the helicopter turned northeast over the waters of the Gulf. He turned to her. "Well, that just leaves us."
She smiled teasingly. "I'm starved. Why don't we head into Mexicali and find us a good Mexican restaurant?"
"Now that you've broached the subject, I have a sudden craving for huevos rancheros."
"I guess I'll have to do the driving."
Pitt lifted his hand. "I still have one good arm."
Loren wouldn't heir of it. Pitt stood on the dock and guided her as she competently drove the big Pierce Arrow and its trailer up the ramp from the auto deck of the ferryboat onto the dock.
Pitt took one last, longing look at the walking beams of the old paddle steamer and wished he could have sailed it through the Panama Canal and up the Potomac River to Washington. But it was not meant to be. He gave a forlorn sigh and was slipping into the passenger seat when a car pulled up alongside.
Curtis Starger climbed out.
He hailed them. "Glad I caught you before you left. Dave Gaskill said to make sure you got this."
He handed Pitt something wrapped in an Indian blanket. Unable to take it with both hands, he looked helplessly at Loren. She took the blanket and spread it open.
Four faces painted on clublike prayer sticks stared hack at them. "The sacred idols of the Montolos,"
Pitt said quietly. "Where did you find them?"
"We recovered them inside Joseph Zolar's private plane in Guaymas."
