Treasure

He entered and spoke in a quiet but fearsome voice. "You will all come with me."

Hala trembled and lowered her gaze to the floor, angry at herself for showing fear.

Senator Pitt was not intimidated. He jumped to his feet and crossed the cabin in long strides, stopping only when the toes of his shoes nearly touched Ammar's.

"Where are you taking us and for what purpose?" the Senator demanded. .

"I am not sitting in front of one of your camel-witt,--d Senate investigation committees," said Ammar icily. "Do not cross examine me.

"We have a right to know," the Senator insisted firmly.

"You have no rights!" snaPPed Amnw. He roughly pushed the Senator aside and moved into the room, his gaze taking in the pale, apprehensive faces.

You're going for a little boat ride, followed by a short journey by train. My men will pass out blankets to ward off the damp chill."

They all looked at him as if he was crazy but none argued.

With a dreadful feeling of hopelessness, Hala slowly helped President Hasan to his feet. she was tired of living under the constant threat of death. She felt as though she no longer cared.

And yet, something within her, a spark, a will to defy, still smoldered.

The fearlessness of a soldier going into battle who knows he is going to die and has nothing to lose by fighting to the end slowly crept over her. She was determined to survive.

Captain Machado entered the communication room and found it empty. At first he thought Ammar,s radio operator had taken a brief break for a call of nawm, but he looked 'm the head and found it empty too.

Machado stared at the radio panel for a long moment, his eyes strained and red from lack of sleep, his face showing a puzzled expression. He stepped onto the bridge and approached one of his own crewmen who was peering into the radarscope.

"Where is the radio operator?" he asked.

The radar observer turned and shrugged. ,i haven't seen him, Captain.

Isn't he in the communications room?"

"No, the place is deserted."

"Would you like me to check with the Arab leader?"

Machado shook his head slowly, not quite able to get a grip on the Egyptian radio operator's disappearance. "Find Jorge Delgado and bring him here. He knows radios. Better us than the stupid Arabs to oversee the communications."

While they were talking, neither man noticed the strong blip that appeared on the radarscope, indicating a low-flying aircraft passing over the center of the island.

Even if they had been alert, there was no detecting the radar-invisible

"stealth parachutes" of Dillenger's Special Forces team as they opened them and began gliding toward the glacier.

Pitt sat in the Spartan confines of the tilt-rotor osprey. The bullet-shaped craft lifted off the ground like a helicopter but flew like a plane at speeds in excess of six hundred kilo meters per hour. He was wide-awake; only a dead man could sleep in those aluminum seats with ultrathin pads for cushions, the weather turbulence, and the engine noise that roared through the barest of soundproofing. Only a dead man, that is, except Giordino. He was deflated like a life-size balloon figurethere was no other description for it-with just enough air to give it form. Every few minutes, as if his brain was set on an automatic timer, he changed position without cracking an eye or missing a breath.

"How does he do it?" asked Findley in frank amazement.

"It's in the genes," Pitt answered.

Gu

The young copilot turned and peered around the back of his seat.

"Doesn't exactly suffer from stress syndrome, does he?"

Pitt and the others laughed and then became quiet, all wishing they didn't have to leave the cozy warmth of the aircraft for the icy nightmare outside. Pitt relaxed as best he could. He felt some measure of satisfaction. Though he was not included in the assault-better to leave that to trained professionals in the art of hostage rescue-he was positioned close enough to tag along on the heels of Hollis and his SOF

teams, and he had every intention of following Dillenger's men down the scaling ropes after the attack was launched.

Pitt sensed no foreboding premonition nor imagined any omen of death. He did not doubt for an instant his father was alive. He couldn't explain it, even to himself, but he felt the Senator's presence. The two had a tight bond over the years. They could almost read each other's minds.

"We'll be at your landing point in six minutes," a

The pilot seemed blissfully unconcerned at flying over jagged, snowcapped peaks he couldn't see. All that was visible through the windshield was the flash of sleet slamming the glass, and the darkness beyond.

"How do you know where we are?" asked Pitt.

The pilot, a laid-back Burt Reynolds type, shrugged lazily. "All in the wrists," he quipped.

Pitt leaned forward and peered over the pilot's shoulder. No hands were on the controls. The pilot was sitting with his arms folded, staring at a small screen that looked like a video game. Only the Osprey's nose showed at the bottom of the graphic display, while the flashing picture was rifled with mountains and valleys that hurtled past under the simulated aircraft. In a split-screen panel in an upper corner, distances and altitudes appeared in red digital numbers.

"Untouched by human hands," said Pitt. "The computer is replacing everyone."

"Lucky for us they haven't developed a knack for sex.1' The pilot laughed. He reached out and made a slight adjustment with a tuning knob. " and radar sca

"That's news to me," muttered the copilot wryly.

"Without our little electronic guide here," the pilot continued, undaunted, "we'd still be sitting on the ground at Punta Arenas waiting for daylight and clearing weather-" A chime

sound issued from the display screen, and the pilot stiffened.

"We're coming up on our programmed landing site. You better get your people ready to disembark."

"What were your instructions from Colonel Hollis for dropping us off?"

"Just to set you down behind the mountain summit above the mine to hide from the cruise ship's radar. You'll have to hoof it the rest of the way."

Pitt turned to Findley. 11 any problem on your end?"

Findley smiled. "I know that mountain like my wife's bottom, every nook and crack. The summit is only two kilometers from the mine entrance.

An easy walk down the slope. I could do it blindfolded."

"from what I see of this rotten weather," Pitt muttered darkly, "that's exactly what you'll have to do."

The howl of the wind replaced the whine from the Osprey's turbines as the NUMA crew quickly exited through the cargo hatch. There was no time wasted, no words spoken, only a silent farewell wave to the pilots.

Within a minute, the four men, carrying only two tote bags, were bent into the sleet and trudging up the rocky slope toward the mountain's summit.