“Asselar.” The name rolled off Mansa’s tongue as if it was coated in acid. “Hopper and his party will surely be murdered by the mutant savages of Asselar as were the members of the tourist safari.”
“That,” said Kazim coldly, “is for Allah to decide.”
“And if for some unforeseen reason they should survive?” Mansa posed the question delicately.
An evil expression that sent a shiver through Mansa spread across Kazim’s face. The General smiled cunningly, his dark eyes reflecting cold amusement. “Then there is always Tebezza.”
<2>DEAD GROUND
May 15, 1996
New York City
<<15>>
At Floyd Bennett Field on the shore of Jamaica Bay, New York, a man dressed like a sixties hippie leaned against a Jeep Wagoneer station wagon parked on a deserted end of the tarmac. He peered through a pair of granny glasses at a turquoise aircraft that taxied through a light morning mist and stopped only 10 meters away. He straightened when Sandecker and Chapman stepped from the NUMA jet and he moved forward to greet them.
The Admiral noted the car and nodded in satisfaction. He detested formal limousines, insisting on a four-wheel-drive for his personal transportation. He managed a brief smile at the Levi-jacketed, pony-tailed director of NUMA’s vast computer data center. Hiram Yaeger was the only person on Sandecker’s top staff who ignored the dress code and got away with it.
“Thank you for picking us up, Hiram. Sorry to drag you away from Washington on short notice.”
Yaeger walked toward him with an outstretched hand. “No problem, Admiral. I needed a break from my machines.” Then he tilted his head and stared up into the face of Dr. Chapman. “Darcy, how was the flight from Nigeria?”
“The cabin ceiling was too low and my seat too short,” the tall toxicologist complained. “And to make matters worse, the Admiral beat me ten games to four at gin rummy.”
“Let me help you throw your luggage in the car, and we’ll head into Manhattan.”
“Did you set an appointment with Hala Kamil?” asked Sandecker.
Yaeger nodded. “I phoned the UN Headquarters as soon as you radioed your time of arrival. Secretary General Kamil has rearranged her schedule to fit us in. Her aide was surprised she’d do that for you.”
Sandecker smiled. “We go back a ways.”
“She’ll meet with us at ten-thirty.”
The Admiral glanced at his watch. “An hour and a half. Time for a cup of coffee and some breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” said Chapman between yawns. “I’m half starved.”
Yaeger took the parkway from the airport and turned off on Coney Island Avenue where he found a delicatessen. They settled into a booth and ordered from a waitress who openly stared at the towering figure of Dr. Chapman.
“What’ll it be, gents?”
“Lox, cream cheese, and a bagel,” ordered Sandecker.
Chapman opted for a pastrami and salami omelet while Yaeger simply had a Danish. They were silent within their own thoughts until the waitress brought their coffee. Sandecker stirred an ice cube in his cup to cool the brew and then settled back against the booth’s backrest.