He well remembered the chilling temperatures. He didn't believe it possible to spit and see the saliva freeze before it hit the ground. And he never forgot the ferocious winds that scourge the coldest of all continents. The 160-kilometer gusts were unimaginable until he experienced them for the first time.
Slade could never fathom why some men were so attracted to that frozen hell. He had a facetious urge to call a travel agent after he returned to base and inquire about reservations at a good resort hotel close to the polar center.
Suddenly a female voice spoke over one of the three cockpit speakers.
"Attention, please. You are about to cross the outer limit of your flight path where seventy degrees longitude and seventy degrees latitude intersect. Disengage auto pilot and come around a hundred and eighty degrees beginning . . . now. The new heading for your return is programmed into the computer. Please enter the appropriate code. Have a good trip home."
Slade followed the instructions and made a lazy Turn. As soon as the computer locked on the return heading he went back on auto pilot and shifted to a more comfortable position in his cramped seat.
Like so many other men who flew reconnaissance missions, he fantasized about the face and body that went with the embodied voice. Rumor had it she weighed two-hundred pounds, was sixty years old and a grandmother twelve times. No pilot with a sound imagination could believe such a myt."shattering thought. She had to look like Sigourney Weaver. Maybe it was Sigoumey Weaver. He decided to explore the tantalizing possibility on his return home.
That delicate problem solved, Slade re-checked his instrument panel and then relaxed while the icebound land drifted away behind his tail. Over the sea again, he returned to his little electronic treasure game.
He saw little purpose in continuing to watch the world roll by, especially since Tierra del Fuego was covered by thick blankets of charcoal clouds. He'd studied enough geography to know it was a wretched land of constant wind, rain and snow.
Slade was almost thankful he couldn't see the monotonous landscape. He left it to Casper's infrared camera to penetrate the dark overcast and record the desolate, dead end of the continent.
Captain Collins stared into Ammar's mask and had to force himself not to avert his gaze. There was something evil, something inhuman in the eyes of the urbane leader of the hijackers. Collins could sense a chilling unconcern for mere human life about the man.
"I demand to know when you're going to release my ship," said Collins in a precise tone.
Arnmar set a cup of tea on a saucer, patted his lips with a table napkin and looked at Collins detachedly.
"Can I offer you some tea?"
"Not unless you offer it to my passengers and crew as well," Collins replied dryily. He stood erect in his summer white uniform, bitterly cold and shivering.
"The very answer I expected." Ammar turned the empty cup upside down and leaned back. "You'll be happy to know my men and I expect to leave sometime tomorrow evening. If you give me your word there will be no foolish attempt to retake the ship or escape to the nearby shore before we depart, no one will be harmed and you can resume command."
"I'd rather you heat the ship and feed everyone now. We're desperately short of warm clothing and blankets to ward off the cold. No one has eaten in days. The pipes have frozen, blocking all water. And I don't have to mention the sanitation problems. "
"Suffering is good for the soul," Animar said philosophically.
Collins glared at him. ")"at utter tripe."
Ammar shrugged wearily. "If you say so."
"Good God, man, there are people sick and dying on this ship."
"I doubt seriously whether any of your crew and passengers will die of exposure or from starvation before my departure," said Ammar curtly.
"They'll simply have to survive some discomfort for the next hours or so until you can restart the engines and heat the ship."
"That may be too late for any of us if the wall of the glacier breaks off."
"It looks solid enough."
"You don't realize the danger. A massive ice slab might fall any moment. The weight could smash the Flamborough like a ten-story building collapsing on an automobile. You must move the ship."
"A risk I cannot avoid. The ice film on the plastic would melt, giving away our location, and satellite infrared cameras could detect our radiated heat."
Collins's face was ed with helpless rage. "You're either a fool or you're insane. What good has any of this proven? What profit will you get out of it? Are we being held for ransom or as hostages in return for freeing your fellow terrorists behind bars somewhere? If you're simply walking off and leaving us, I fail to see the purpose."
"You have an irritating degree of curiosity, Captain, but a dedication of purpose after my own heart. You will learn the reasons behind our capture of your ship soon enough."
Ammar rose and nodded at the guard who stood behind Collins. "Return the Captain to confinement."
Collins refused to move. "Why can't you provide hot tea, coffee, soup, anything that will alleviate the suffering?"
Ammar did not bother to Turn as he walked from the dining salon.
"Goodbye, Captain. We won't meet again."
Animar went directly to the communications room. Ibn was standing, watching a teletype hum out the latest wire-service news. His electronics man was seated at the radio, listening to an incoming transmission while a voice recorder copied it on paper. The radio and teletype were powered by a portable generator.
Ibn turned at Ammar's approach, gave a brief nod in recognition and tore a long sheet of paper from the teletype.
"The international news media are still reporting the Lady Flamborough as lost," he reported. "Salvage ships are only now arriving off Uruguay to conduct an underwater search. My compliments, Suleiman; you fooled the world. We'll be safely back in Cairo before the West learns the truth."
"What news of Egypt?" asked Ammar.
"Nothing worth celebrating yet. Hasan's cabinet ministers still control the government. They stubbornly hold on to power. They've played it smart by not sending in security forces to smash the demonstrations. The only bloodshed was caused by our fundamentalist brothers who mistakenly blew up a busload of Algerian firemen attending a convention in Cairo.
it was thought the bus was part of a government police convoy. The Cairo news network is claiming Akhmad Yazid's movement is a front for Iranian fanatics. Many supporters are wavering in their loyalty and there has been no mass demand for Hasan's cabinet to dissolve the government."
"That idiot Khaled Fawzy was behind the bus explosion," snarled Ammar.
"The military, where do the armed forces stand?"
"Defense Minister Abu Han-iid will not commit himself until he views the bodies of President Hasan and Hala Kamil to confirm their deaths."
"So Yazid has yet to make a triumphal takeover."
Ibn nodded and his expression turned grave. "There is another news item. Yazid has announced that the cruise ships crew and passengers still live, and he will personally negotiate with the terrorists and arrange for the release of everyone. He has gone so far as to offer his life in exchange for Senator George Pitt to impress the Americans."
A numbing, paralyzing rage swelled within Ammar, sharpening his senses and opening his thoughts like envelopes inside his mind. After a few moments, he looked at Ibn.
"By Allah, the Judas goat has led us to slaughter," he said incredulously. "Yazid has sold out the mission."
Ibn nodded in agreement. "Yazid has used and betrayed you. "
"That explains why he stalled off ordering me to kill Hasan, Kamil and the rest. He wanted them unharmed until Machado and his scum could remove you and me and our people."
"What do Yazid and Topiltzin gain by keeping the hostages alive?" asked Ibn.