p&c.icelimit-第12章

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　She　nodded。
　〃And　you　have　no　problem　with　it？〃
　She　looked　at　him。　〃I　have　no　problem　with　it。〃　
　Something　in　those　clear　green　eyes　told　Lloyd　a　different　story。　He　opened　his　mouth　to　speak；　but　Glinn　interrupted　smoothly。　〃e　on；〃　he　said。　〃I'll　show　you　the　cradle。〃　
　He　motioned　them　farther　down　the　catwalk。　Here　the　ship's　deck　lay　directly　below；　wreathed　in　clouds　of　welding　smoke　and　diesel　exhaust。　Deckplates　had　been　removed；　exposing　a　vast　hole　in　the　ship。　Manuel　Garza；　chief　engineer　for　EES；　stood　at　its　edge；　holding　a　radio　to　his　ear　with　one　hand　and　gesturing　with　the　other。　Catching　sight　of　them　overhead；　he　waved。
　Peering　down　into　the　exposed　space；　Lloyd　could　make　out　an　amazingly　plex　structure；　with　the　elegance　of　a　crystal　lattice。　Strings　of　yellow　sodium　lights　along　its　edges　made　the　dark　hold　sparkle　and　glow　like　a　deep；　enchanted　grotto。
　〃That's　the　hold？〃　Lloyd　asked。
　〃Tank；　not　hold。　Number　three　center　tank；　to　be　precise。　We'll　be　placing　the　meteorite　at　the　very　center　of　the　ship's　keel；　to　maximize　stability。　And　we've　added　a　passageway　beneath　the　maindeck；　running　from　the　superstructure　forward；　to　aid　access。　Note　the　mechanical　doors　we've　installed　on　each　side　of　the　tank　opening。〃
　The　cradle　was　a　long　way　down。　Lloyd　squinted　against　the　glow　of　the　countless　lights。
　〃I'll　be　damned；〃　he　said　suddenly。　〃Half　of　it's　made　of　wood！〃　He　turned　to　Glinn。　〃Cutting　corners　already？〃　
　The　corners　of　Glinn's　mouth　jerked　upward　in　a　brief　smile。　〃Wood；　Mr。　Lloyd；　is　the　ultimate　engineering　material。〃
　Lloyd　shook　his　head。　〃Wood？　For　a　ten…thousand…ton　weight？　I　can't　believe　it。〃
　〃Wood　is　ideal。　It　gives　ever　so　slightly；　but　never　deforms。　It　tends　to　bite　into　heavy　objects；　locking　them　in　place。　The　type　of　oak　we're　using；　greenheart　laminated　with　epoxy；　has　a　higher　shear　strength　than　steel。　And　wood　can　be　carved　and　shaped　to　fit　the　curves　of　the　hull。　It　won't　wear　through　the　steel　hull　in　a　heavy　sea；　and　it　doesn't　suffer　metal　fatigue。〃
　〃But　why　so　plicated　an　arrangement？〃
　〃We　had　to　solve　a　little　problem；〃　said　Glinn。　〃At　ten　thousand　tons；　the　meteorite　must　be　absolutely　locked　into　place；　immobilized　in　the　hold。　If　the　Rolvaag　encounters　heavy　weather　on　the　way　back　to　New　York；　even　a　tiny　shift　of　the　meteorite's　position　could　fatally　destabilize　the　ship。　That　network　of　timbers　not　only　locks　the　thing　into　place；　but　distributes　its　weight　evenly　throughout　the　hull；　simulating　the　loading　of　crude　oil。〃
　〃Impressive；〃　said　Britton。　〃You　took　the　internal　frames　and　partitioning　into　account？〃
　〃Yes。　Dr。　Amira　is　a　putational　genius。　She　worked　up　a　calculation　that　took　all　of　ten　hours　on　a　Cray　T3D　superputer；　but　it　gave　us　the　configuration。　We　can't　finish　it；　of　course；　until　we　get　the　exact　dimensions　of　the　rock。　We've　built　this　based　on　Mr。　Lloyd's　flyover　data。　But　when　we　actually　unearth　the　meteorite；　we'll　build　a　second　cradle　around　it　that　we　can　plug　into　this　one。〃
　Lloyd　nodded。　〃And　what　are　those　men　doing？〃　He　pointed　to　the　deepest　depths　of　the　hold；　where　a　gaggle　of　workmen；　barely　visible；　were　cutting　through　the　hull　plates　with　acetylene　torches。
　〃The　dead　man's　switch；〃　said　Glinn　evenly。
　Lloyd　felt　a　surge　of　irritation。　〃You're　not　really　going　through　with　that。〃
　〃We've　already　discussed　it。〃
　Lloyd　struggled　to　sound　reasonable。　〃Look。　If　you　open　up　the　bottom　of　the　ship　to　dump　the　meteorite　in　the　middle　of　some　storm；　the　damn　ship's　going　to　sink　anyway。　Any　idiot　can　see　that。〃
　Glinn　held　Lloyd　with　his　gray；　impenetrable　eyes。　〃If　the　switch　is　thrown；　it　will　take　less　than　sixty　seconds　to　open　the　tank；　release　the　rock；　and　reseal　it。　The　tanker　won't　sink　in　sixty　seconds；　no　matter　how　heavy　the　seas　are。　On　the　contrary；　the　inrush　of　water　will　actually　pensate　for　the　sudden　loss　of　ballast　when　the　meteorite　goes。　Dr。　Amira　worked　that　all　out；　too。　And　a　pretty　little　equation　it　was。〃
　Lloyd　stared　back　at　him。　This　man　actually　derived　pleasure　from　having　solved　the　problem　of　how　to　send　a　priceless　meteorite　to　the　bottom　of　the　Atlantic。　〃All　I　can　say　is；　if　anyone　throws　that　dead　man's　switch　on　my　meteorite；　he's　a　dead　man　himself。〃
　Captain　Britton　laughed　…　a　high；　ringing　sound　that　carried　above　the　clangor　below。　Both　men　turned　toward　her。　〃Don't　forget；　Mr。　Lloyd；〃　she　said　crisply；　〃it's　nobody's　meteorite　yet。　And　there's　a　long　stretch　of　water　ahead　of　us　before　it　is。〃
　
　Aboard　the　Rolvaag；
　June　26；　12：35　A。M。
　
　MCFARLANE　STEPPED　through　the　hatchway；　carefully　closed　the　steel　door　behind　him；　and　walked　out　onto　the　fly　deck。　It　was　the　very　highest　point　of　the　ship's　superstructure；　and　it　felt　like　the　roof　of　the　world。　The　smooth　surface　of　the　Atlantic　lay　more　than　a　hundred　feet　below　him；　dappled　in　faint　starlight。　The　gentle　breeze　carried　the　distant　cry　of　gulls；　and　smelled　wonderfully　of　the　sea。
　He　walked　over　to　the　forward　railing　and　wrapped　his　hands　around　it。　He　thought　about　the　huge　ship　that　would　be　his　home　for　the　next　few　months。　Directly　below　his　feet　lay　the　bridge。　Below　that　lay　a　deck　left　mysteriously　empty　by　Glinn。　Farther　below　lay　the　rambling　quarters　of　the　senior　officers。　And　a　full　six　stories　down；　the　maindeck；　stretching　ahead　a　sixth　of　a　mile　to　the　bow。　An　occasional　dash　of　starlit　spray　washed　over　the　forecastle　head。　The　network　of　piping　and　tank　valves　remained；　and　placed　around　it　were　a　maze　of　old　containers　…　the　laboratories　and　workspaces　…　like　a　child's　woodblock　city。
　In　a　few　minutes　his　presence　would　be　required　at　the　〃night　lunch；〃　which　would　be　their　first　formal　meal　on　board　ship。　But　he　had　e　up　here　first　to　convince　himself　that　the　voyage　had　really　begun。
　He　breathed　in；　trying　to　clear　his　head　of　the　last　frantic　days；　setting　up　labs　and　beta…testing　equipment。　He　gripped　the　railing　tighter；　feeling　a　swell　of　exhilaration。　This　is　more　like　it；　he　thought。　Even　a　jail　cell　in　Chile　seemed　preferable　to　having　Lloyd　constantly　looking　over　his　shoulder；　second…guessing；　worrying　over　trivial　details。　Whatever　lay　at　the　end　of　their　journey　…　whatever　it　was　that　Nestor　Masangkay　had　found　…　at　least　they　were　on　their　way。
　McFarlane　turned　and　made　the　long　walk　across　the　deck　to　the　aft　rail。　Although　the　thrum　of　engines　came　faintly　from　the　depths　of　the　ship；　up　here　he　could　feel　no　hint　of　vibration。　In　the　distance　he　could　see　the　Cape　May　lighthouse　winking；　one　short；　one　long。　After　Glinn　secured　their　clearance　papers　through　some　private　means　of　his　own；　they　had　left　Elizabeth　under　cover　of　darkness；　maintaining　secrecy　to　the　last。　They　would　soon　be　in　the　main　shipping　lanes；　beyond　the　continental　shelf；　and　would　then　turn　due　south。　Five　weeks　from　now；　if　all　went　as　planned；　they　would　see　the　same　light　again。　McFarlane　tried　to　imagine　what　it　would　be　like　if　they　did　recover　it　successfully：　the　furious　outcry；　the　scientific　coup　…　and；　perhaps；　his　own　personal　exoneration。
　Then　he　smiled　cynically　to　himself。　Life　didn't　work　like　that。　It　was　so　much　easier　to　see　himself　back　again　in　the　Kalahari；　a　little　more　money　in　his　pocket；　a　little　chubby　from　ship's　food；　tracking　down　the　elusive　Bushmen　and　renewing　his　search　for　the　Okavango。　And　nothing　would　erase　what　he　had　done　to　Nestor　…　particularly　now　that　his　old　friend　and　partner　was　dead。
　As　he　gazed　out　over　the　ship's　stem；　McFarlane　became　aware　of　another　odor　on　the　sea　air：　tobacco。　Looking　around；　he　realized　he　wasn't　alone。　From　the　far　side　of　the　fly　deck；　a　small　pinpoint　of　red　winked　against　the　dark；　then　disappeared　again。　Someone　had　been　quietly　standing　there；　a　fellow　passenger　enjoying　the　night。
　Then　the　red　ember　jerked　and　bobbed　as　the　person　rose　to　approach　him。　With　surprise；　he　realized　it　was　Rachel　Amira；　Glinn's　physicist；　and　his　own　alleged　assistant。　Between　the　fingers　of　her　right　hand　were　the　final　inches　of　a　thick　cigar。　McFarlane　sighed　inwardly　at　having　his　solitary　reverie　intruded　upon；　especially　by　this　sardonic　woman。　〃Ciao；　boss。　Any　orders　for　me？〃
　McFarlane　remained　silent；　feeling　a　swell　of　annoyance　at　the　word　〃boss。〃　He　hadn't　signed　on　to　be　a　manager。　Amira　didn't　need　a　nursemaid。　And　she　didn't　seem　too　pleased　with　the　arrangement　either。　What　could　Glinn　have　been　thinking？
　〃Three　hours　at　sea；　and　I'm　bored　already。〃　She　waved　the　cigar。　〃Want　one？〃
　〃No　thanks。　I　want　to　taste　my　dinner。〃
　〃Ship's　cooking？　You　must　be　a　masochist。〃　She　leaned　against　the　rail　beside　him　with　a　bored　sigh。　〃This　ship　gives　me　the　willies。〃
　〃How　so？〃
　〃It's　just　so　cold；　so　robotic。　When　I　think　of　going　to　sea；　I　think　of　iron　men　running　all　over　the　decks；　jumping　at　barked　orders。　But　look　at　this。〃　She　jerked　a　finger　over　her　shoulder。　〃Eight　hundred　feet　worth　of　deck；　and　nothing　stirring。　Nothing。　It's　a　haunted　ship。　Deserted。　Everything's　done　by　puter。〃　
　She　has　a　point；　McFarlane　thought。　Even　though　by　modern　supertanker　standards　the　Rolvaag　was　only　moderate　sized；　it　was　still　huge。　Yet　only　a　skeleton　crew　was　necessary　to　man　it。　With　all　the　ship's　plement；　the　EES　specialists　and　engineers；　and　the　construction　crew；　there　were　still　fewer　than　one　hundred　people　aboard。　A　cruise　ship　half　the　Rolvaag's　size　might　carry　two　thousand。
　〃And　it's　so　damned　big；〃　he　heard　her　say；　as　if　answering　his　own　thoughts。
　〃Talk　to　Glinn　about　that。　Lloyd　would　have　been　happier　spending　less　money　for　less　boat。〃
　〃Did　you　know；〃　said　Amira；　〃that　these　tankers　are　the　first　man…made　vessels　big　enough　to　be　affected　by　the　earth's　rotation？〃
　〃No；　I　didn't。〃　Here　was　a　woman　who　liked　the　sound　of　her　own　voice。
　〃Yeah。　And　it　takes　three　sea　miles　to　stop　this　baby　with　engines　full　astern。〃
　〃You're　a　regular　fund　of　tanker　trivia。〃
　〃Oh；　I'm　good　at　cocktail　conversation。〃　Amira　blew　a　smoke　ring　into　the　darkness。
　〃What　else　are　you　good　at？〃
　Amira　laughed。　〃I'm　not　too　bad　at　math。〃
　〃So　I've　heard。〃　McFarlane　turned　away；　leaning　over　the　rail；　hoping　she　would　take　the　hint。
　〃Well；　we　can't　all　be　airline　stewardesses　when　we　grow　up；　you　know。〃　There　was　a　moment　of　blessed　silence　as　Amira　puffed　at　the　cigar。　〃Hey；　you　know　what；　boss？〃
　〃I'd　appreciate　it　if　you　didn't　call　me　that。〃
　〃It's　what　you　are；　right？〃
　McFarlane　turned　to　her。　〃I　didn't　ask　for　an　assistant。　I　don't　need　an　assistant。　I　don't　like　this　arrangement　any　more　than　you　do。〃
　Amira　puffed；　a　sardonic　smile　hovering；　her　eyes　full　of　amusement。
　〃So　I've　got　an　idea；〃　McFarlane　said。
　〃What's　that？〃
　〃Let's　just　pretend　you're　not　my　assistant〃
　〃What；　you　firing　me　already？〃
　McFarlane　sighed；　suppressing　his　first；　impulsive　reaction。　〃We're　going　to　be　spending　a　lot　of　time　together。　So　let's　work　together　as　equals；　okay？　Glinn　doesn't　need　to　know。　And　I　think　we'd　both　be　happier。〃
　Amira　examined　the　lengthening　ash；　then　tossed　the　cigar　over　the　rail　into　the　sea。　When　she　spoke；　her　voice　sounded　a　little　more　friendly。　〃That　thing　you　did　with　the　sandwich　cracked　me　up。　Rochefort's　a　control　fre