IV
Back at Bidon Cinq again that afternoon, Johnny McCord was greeted by the native office assistant he'd left in charge while all three of the officers were gone. Mellor, at the Tissalit base, had made several attempts to get in touch with him.
"Mellor!" Pierre grunted. "How do you Americans say it? Stuffed shirt!"
"Yeah," Johnny McCord said, sitting down to the telephone. "But my boss."
While Pierre was fishing two cans of beer from the refrigerator, Johnny dialed Tissalit. Kate's face lit up the screen. Johnny said, "Hi. I understand the old man wants to talk to me."
"That's right," the girl said, and moved a switch. "Just a minute, Johnny."
Her face faded to be replaced by that of Mellor. Johnny noted that as usual the other wore a business suit, complete with white shirt and tie—in the middle of the Sahara!
Mellor was scowling. "Where've you been, McCord?"
"Checking some pumps near In Ziza," Johnny said evenly.