“The UN scientists are planning a diversion.”

“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 pleased.”

“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.