"That bothered me too," Pitt agreed. "The Scythians came from Central Asia. Not damned likely they'd have been fairskinned and blond."
"I see no sense in continuing the computer search around Norway into the northern waters of Russia."
"I agree. What about Iceland? The Vikings didn't settle there for another five hundred years. Maybe Rufinus meant Eskimos."
"No go," said Yaeger. "I checked. Eskimos never migrated to Iceland.
Rufinus also threw in the mystery of the 'great sea of dwarflike pines.'
He couldn't have found them on Iceland. And don't forget, you're talking about a six-hundred-mile voyage across some of the worst seas in the world. Historical marine records are quite precise: Roman ship captains rarely sailed out of sight of land for more than two days. The voyage from the nearest European land mass would have taken at least four and a half days under ideal conditions. "
"So where do we go from here?"
"I'll run the West African coast by again. We might have missed something. Dark-skinned Africans and a warmer climate seem more logical than the cold northern countries, especially to men from the Mediterranean."
"You still have to explain how the Serapis came to be in Greenland."
"A projection of wind and currents could give us a clue."
"I'm flying back to Washington tonight," said Pitt. "I'll look in on you tomorrow."
"Maybe I'll have something," said Yaeger, but his tone did not sound optimistic.
Pitt hung up and stepped from the office. Lily looked at him with an expression of hope. Then she read the disappointment in his eyes.
"No good news?" she asked.
He shrugged negatively. "Seems we haven't left square one."
She took his arm. "Yaeger will come through," she said encouragingly.
"He can't work miracles."
Giordino held up a watch on his good arm. "We don't have much time to make our flight. We'd better get rolling."
Pitt walked over, shook benson's hand and smiled. "Make her well again.
She saved our lives."
benson looked at him. "Only if you promise me you'll keep her away from flying bullets and ski slopes."
"Done."
After they left for the airport, benson opened a rear door of the Cord.
The door handle came off in his hand.
"God," he said mournfully, "what a mess."
A loud roar of applause erupted in the public galleries and swept over the delegates on the main floor below as Hala refused all assistance and slowly made her way to the podium on crutches. She stood behind the podium, poised and serene, speaking in a strong, convincing voice. Her theatrics were low-key and subtle. She moved the audience with an emotional appeal to stop the useless killing of innocent people in the name of religion. Only when she called for a censure of governments that turned a blind eye toward terrorist organizations did a few delegates shift in their seats and stare into space.
An undercurrent of murmurs trailed her news of the forthcoming Alexandria Library discovery as the immense potential took time to sink in. Then Akhmad Yazid came in for a scathing attack, as she accused him directly of the attempts on her life.
Hala concluded by firmly stating she would not be driven out of her position as SecretaryGeneral by threats of future harm, but would remain until her fellow delegates asked for her resignation.
The response was a standing ovation that became thunder ous as she stood off to one side of the podium and displayed the cast on her ankle.
"She's some lady," said the President admiringiy. "What I wouldn't give to have her sit in my cabinet." He pressed the off button on a remote control and the television screen went black.
"An excellent speech," said Senator Pitt. "She tore Yazid apart-and made a good pitch on the Library search project."
The President nodded. "Yes, she came through for us on both counts."
"You know, of course, she's leaving for Uruguay to confer with President Hasan."
"Dale Nichols briefed me on the conversation you had with her on the plane," the President acknowledged. He was seated behind his desk in the Oval Office. "How do we stand on the search?"
"NUMA!s computer facility is working on a location," answered the Senator.
"Are they close?"
The Senator shook his head. "No closer now to a breakthrough than they were four days ago."
I.Can't we speed up the process? Bring in a think tank, university people, other government agencies?"
Senator Pitt looked doubtful. "NUMA has the finest computer library in the world on oceans, lakes and rivers. If they can't find the destination of the Egyptian fleet, no one can."
"What about archaeological and historical records?" the President suggested. "Maybe something's been uncovered in the past that could offer a clue."
"Might be worth a try. I know a good man at Penn State University who's a triple-A researcher. He can have my people digging the archives here and in Europe by this time tomorrow."
"Good, give him a crack at it."
"Now that the news media and Hala have spread the word," said the Senator, "half the governments and most of the fortune hunters of the world will be on the hunt for the Library collection."
"I considered that probability going in," the President said.
"But propping up President Hasan's government takes top priority. If we make the discovery first and then pretend to back down after Hasan makes a dramatic show of demanding the artifacts be returned to Egypt, his domestic popularity will take a big jump, and make him a hero in the eyes of the Egyptian people."
"While stalling off the threat of a takeover by Yazid and his followers," added the Senator. "The only problem is Yazid himself. The man is extremely unpredictable. Our best Middle East experts can't read him. He's liable to pull a rabbit out of the hat and steal the scene."
The President looked at him steadily. "I see no problem in cutting him out of the limelight when the artifacts are turned over to President Hasan."
"I'm on your side, Mr. President, but it's dangerous to underestimate Yazid."
"He's far from perfect."
"Yes, but unlike the Ayatollah Khomeini, Akhmad Yazid is a brilliant intellect. He's what the advertising agencies call a good concept man."
"In political areas perhaps, but hardly in assassinations."
The Senator shrugged and ssighed knowingly. "His plans were, no doubt, screwed up by his henchmen. As President, you know better than anyone how easily an aide or adviser can botch a simple project."
The President smiled back without humor. He leaned back in his chair and toyed with a pen. "We know damned little about Yazid, where he came from, what makes him tick."
"He claims to have spent the first thirty years of his life wandering the Sinai desert talking to Allah."
"So he's lifted a page from Jesus Christ. What else do we have on him?"
"You might ask Dale Nichols," answered the Senator. "I understand he's working with the CIA on building a biographical and psychological profile."
"Let's see if they've come up with anything." The President pressed a button on his intercom. "Dale, can you come in for a minute?"
"Be right there," came Nichols's voice over the speaker.
Neither of the men in the Oval Office spoke during the fifteen seconds Nichols took to walk from his office. He knocked, then opened the door and stepped in.