Clive Cussler - Sahara

She groaned and stirred, squinting at the dazzling beach, the peaceful sun-splashed panorama of scenic beauty. She sat up suddenly, her eyes widening in fear, terrorized by the sharp recall of the attack. But her killers were gone. Had they really existed? She began to wonder if she had been hallucinating.

"Welcome back," said a man's voice. "For a while there I was afraid you lapsed into a coma."

Eva turned and looked up into the smiling face of the spearfisherman who was kneeling behind her.

"Where are the men who tried to kill me?" she asked in a frightened voice.

"They left with the tide," the stranger answered with an icy cheerfulness.

"Tide?"

"I was taught never to litter a beach. I towed their bodies beyond the surf. When I last saw them, they were drifting toward Greece."

She stared at him as a chill swept through her. "You killed them."

"They were not nice people."

"You killed them," she echoed dumbly. Her face was ashen and she looked as if she was going to be sick. "You're as cold-blooded a murderer as they were."

He could see she was still in shock and not reasoning sensibly. Her eyes were filled with revulsion. He shrugged and said simply, "Would you have preferred I hadn't become involved?"

The fear and revulsion slowly left her eyes and was replaced with apprehension. It took a minute for Eva to realize that the stranger had saved her from a violent death. "No please, forgive me. I'm acting stupidly. I owe you my life and I don't even know your name."

"It's Dirk Pitt."

"I'm Eva Rojas." She felt oddly flustered as he smiled warmly and gently grasped her hand in his. She saw only concern in his eyes and all her apprehension fled. "You're American."

"Yes, I'm with the National Underwater and Marine Agency. We're doing an archaeological survey of the Nile River."

"I thought you had driven off before I was attacked."

"Almost, but your friends made me curious. It struck me odd that they parked their car a good kilometer away and then walked across a deserted beach directly toward you. So I hung around to see what they had in mind."

"Lucky for me you're the suspicious type."

"Do you have any idea of why they tried to kill you?" Pitt asked.

"They must have been bandits who murder and rob tourists."

He shook his head. "Robbery wasn't their motive. They carried no weapons. The one who was smothering you used his hands instead of tape or a cloth. And they made no attempt at rape. They were not professional assassins or we'd both be dead. Most unusual. I'd bet a month's pay they were only hired hands for someone who wanted you dead. They followed you to a secluded spot intending to murder you, and then force salt water down your nose and throat. Afterward, your body would be left at the high-tide line to make it look like a drowning. Which would explain why they tried to smother you."

She said hesitatingly, "I can't believe any of this. It seems so purposeless and makes no sense at all. I'm only a biochemist, specializing in the effects of toxic materials on humans. I have no enemies. Why on earth should anyone want to kill me?"

"Having only just met you, I can't even guess."

Eva lightly massaged her bruised lips. "It's all so crazy."

"How long have you been in Egypt?"

"Only a few days."

"You must have done something to make somebody pretty mad."

"Certainly not to any North Africans," she said doubtfully. "If anything I'm here to help them."

He stared thoughtfully into the sand. "Then you're not on vacation."

"My work brought me here," Eva answered. "Rumors of strange physical abnormalities and psychological disorders among the nomadic peoples of the southern Sahara were brought to the attention of the World Health Organization. I'm a member of an international team of scientists who have been sent to investigate."

"Hardly fodder for a murder," Pitt admitted.

"All the more puzzling. My colleagues and I are here to save lives. We pose no threat."

"You think the plague in the desert is due to toxins?"

"We don't have the answers yet. There isn't enough data to draw conclusions. On the surface the cause appears to be contamination sickness, but the source is a mystery. No known chemical manufacturing or hazardous waste sites lie within hundreds of kilometers of the areas reporting the symptoms."

"How widespread is the problem?"

"Over eight thousand cases have erupted across the African nations of Mali and Niger in the past ten days."

Pitt's eyebrows lifted. "An incredible number for so short a time. How do you know bacteria or a virus isn't the cause?"

"Like I said, the source is a mystery."

"Odd that it hasn't been covered by the news media."

"The World Health Organization has insisted on a news blackout until a cause has been determined. I suppose to prevent sensationalism and panic."

Pitt had been glancing around the beach from time to time. He spotted a movement beyond the low dunes bordering the road. "What are your plans?"

"My scientific team leaves for the Sahara tomorrow to begin field investigations."

"You know, I hope, that Mali is on the verge of what could be a bloody civil war."

She shrugged unconcernedly. "The government has agreed to keep a heavy guard around our researchers at all times." She paused and looked at him for a long moment. "Why are you asking me all these questions? You act like a secret agent."

Pitt laughed. "Only a nosy marine engineer with dislike for anyone who goes around murdering beautiful women."

"Maybe it was a case of mistaken identity?" she said hopefully.

Pitt's eyes traveled over her body and stopped at her eyes. "Somehow, I don't think that's possible--" Pitt tensed suddenly and stood, staring at the dunes. His muscles tightened. He reached down and grabbed Eva by the wrist and pulled her upright. "Time to go," he said, dragging her at a run across the beach.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, stumbling after him.

Pitt didn't answer. The movement behind the dunes had become a wisp of smoke that was thickening as it rose in the desert sky. He knew immediately that another killer, or perhaps more, had set fire to Eva's rental car in an effort to trap them until reinforcements could arrive.

He could see the flames now. If he had picked up his speargun. . . ? No. He didn't fool himself. It was no weapon against a firearm. His only slim hope was that the assassin's comrade was also unarmed and hadn't seen Pitt's Jeep.

He was right on the first count, wrong on the second. As they crested the last dune, he saw a dark-skinned man holding a burning newspaper in one hand that was rolled up in a torch. The intruder was absorbed in kicking out the windshield in preparation of incinerating the interior of the Jeep. This one was not dressed like the others. He wore an intricate white headdress that was swathed in such a way that only his eyes showed. His body was draped in a flowing caftan-like robe that swirled around his sandaled ankles. He failed to notice Pitt bearing down on him with Eva in tow.

Pitt halted and breathed the words into Eva's ear. "If I screw up, run like hell for the road and stop a passing car." Aloud he shouted, "Freeze!"

Startled, the man twisted around, his eyes wide but menacing. In the same breath as his shout, Pitt lowered his head and charged. The man thrust the burning paper in front of him, but Pitt's head had already driven into his chest, breaking the sternum with the accompanying sharp snap of cracking ribs. At the same time, Pitt's right fist swung up into the man's crotch.

The menace in the man's eyes bulged into a look of shock. Then a strangling, tortured gasp escaped his gaping mouth as the wind burst from his lungs. He was thrust backward, and his feet left the sand as Pitt's wild attack lifted him in the air.