p&c.icelimit-第53章

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　Garza　could　see　that；　despite　the　humor　and　the　high　spirits；　there　was　a　deep　nervousness。　The　meteorite　might　be　safely　in　the　Rolvaag；　but　it　had　lost　none　of　its　ability　to　inspire　dread。
　There　was　only　one　way　to　handle　this：　quickly。　〃Go　to　it；〃　Garza　said；　slapping　the　foreman　on　the　back　with　an　air　of　heartiness。
　Without　further　delay；　the　men　began　stepping　into　the　cage。　Garza　almost　stayed　behind　…　after　all；　he　could　direct　the　entire　operation　better　from　the　observation　unit　at　the　end　of　the　catwalk　…　but　decided　that　would　be　unseemly。　He　stepped　into　the　cage　and　slid　the　grating　shut。
　〃Into　the　belly　of　the　beast；　Mr。　Garza？〃　one　man　asked。
　〃Gotta　keep　you　jackasses　out　of　trouble。〃
　They　descended　to　the　bottom　of　the　tank；　where　a　series　of　metal　beams　had　been　laid　across　the　keel　rider；　forming　a　floor。　Buttressing　members　ran　from　the　cradle　in　all　directions；　distributing　the　weight　of　the　meteorite　toward　all　corners　of　the　ship。　Following　the　directions　on　their　welding　diagrams；　the　men　branched　out；　climbing　along　struts　and　disappearing　into　the　plex　lattice　that　surrounded　the　meteorite。　Soon　they　were　all　in　place；　but　the　tank　remained　silent　for　a　long　moment；　it　was　as　if；　down　here　beside　the　rock；　nobody　wanted　to　be　the　first　to　begin。　And　then　the　bright　points　of　light　began　popping　out　in　the　dim　space；　casting　crazy　shadows　as　the　welders　fired　up　their　equipment　and　went　to　work。
　Garza　checked　the　assignment　list　and　the　master　diagram；　satisfying　himself　that　everybody　was　doing　just　what　he　was　supposed　to。　There　was　a　faint　chorus　of　sizzling　as　the　TIG　welders　bit　into　the　metal；　fusing　the　cradle　into　place　at　a　host　of　critical　nodes。　He　ran　his　gaze　over　the　welders　in　turn。　It　was　unlikely　some　cowboy　would　get　too　close　to　the　rock；　but　he　made　sure　nonetheless。　Somewhere　in　the　distance　he　could　hear　an　occasional　drip。　Searching　idly　for　the　source；　he　glanced　at　the　longitudinal　bulkheads　rising　sixty　feet　to　the　top　of　the　tank；　ribbed　and　worked　like　a　metal　cathedral。　Then　he　glanced　down　at　the　bottom　girders。　The　hull　plates　were　wet。　No　surprise　there；　under　the　circumstances。　He　could　hear　the　measured　boom　of　surf　along　the　hull；　feel　the　gentle；　slow…motion　rolling　of　the　ship。　He　thought　of　the　three　membranes　of　metal　that　lay　between　him　and　the　bottomless　ocean。　It　was　a　disquieting　thought；　and　he　pulled　his　gaze　away；　looking　now　at　the　meteorite　itself；　inside　its　webbed　prison。
　Although　from　down　here　it　looked　more　imposing；　it　was　diminished　by　the　vastness　of　the　tank。　Once　again；　he　tried　to　prehend　how　something　so　small　could　weigh　so　much。　Five　Eiffel　towers　packed　into　twenty　feet　of　meteorite。　Curved；　pebbled　surface。　No　scooped…out　hollows　like　a　normal　meteorite。　Stunning；　almost　indescribable　color。　He'd　love　to　give　his　girlfriend　a　ring　made　out　of　that　stuff。　And　then　his　memory　flashed　back　to　the　various　chunks　of　the　man　named　Timmer；　laid　out　in　the　mand　hut。　Nope；　no　ring。
　He　glanced　at　his　watch。　Fifteen　minutes。　The　work　was　estimated　to　take　twenty…five。　〃How's　it　going？〃　he　called　to　the　crew　foreman。
　〃Almost　there；〃　the　foreman　called　back；　his　voice　echoing　and　distorted　in　the　great　tank。　Garza　stood　back　and　waited；　feeling　the　ship　rolling　more　heavily　now。　The　smell　of　cooking　steel；　tungsten；　and　titanium　was　strong　in　the　air。
　At　last　the　TIG　welders　began　snapping　off　as　the　welders　finished　their　work。　Garza　nodded。　Twenty…two　minutes：　not　bad。　Just　a　few　more　critical　welds　and　they'd　be　done。
　Rochefort　had　designed　things　to　keep　those　welds　to　a　minimum。　Whenever　possible；　he'd　kept　things　simple。　Less　likely　to　fail。　He　may　have　been　a　prig；　but　he　was　a　damn　good　engineer。　Garza　sighed　as　the　ship　began　to　roll　again；　wishing　again　Rochefort　could　have　seen　his　plan　bee　real　here　in　this　tank。　Someone　got　killed　on　almost　every　job。　It　was　a　little　like　war；　better　not　to　make　too　many　friends。。。
　He　realized　that　the　vessel　was　still　rolling。　This　is　a　big　one；　he　thought。　There　was　a　faint　flurry　of　creaks　and　groans。　〃Hold　tight！〃　he　called　out　to　the　crew　as　he　turned　away　and　grasped　the　lift　railing　for　support。　The　ship　heeled；　more；　and　still　more。
　Then　he　found　himself　lying　on　his　back；　in　the　pitchdark；　pain　coursing　through　him。　How　did　he　get　there？　A　minute　could　have　passed；　or　an　hour；　there　was　no　way　to　tell。　His　head　swirled：　there　had　been　an　explosion。　Somewhere　in　the　blackness；　a　man　was　screaming　…　hideously　…　and　there　was　a　strong　smell　of　ozone　and　burnt　metal　in　the　air；　overlaid　with　a　whiff　of　woodsmoke。　Something　warm　and　sticky　coated　his　face；　and　the　pain　throbbed　in　rhythm　with　the　beat　of　his　heart。　But　then　it　began　to　go　away　…　far　away　…　and　soon　he　was　able　to　sleep　once　again。
　
　Rolvaag；
　8：00　A。M。
　
　PALMER　LLOYD　had　taken　his　time　arriving　on　the　bridge。　He　had　to　brace　himself。　He　could　show　no　lingering　childish　resentment。
　He　was　received　with　polite；　even　deferential　nods。　There　was　a　new　feeling　on　the　bridge；　and　it　took　him　a　moment　to　understand。　The　mission　was　almost　over。　He　was　no　longer　a　passenger；　a　nuisance　at　a　critical　moment。　He　was　Palmer　Lloyd；　owner　of　the　most　important　meteorite　ever　discovered；　director　of　the　Lloyd　Museum；　CEO　of　Lloyd　Holdings；　the　seventh　richest　man　in　the　world。
　He　came　up　behind　Britton。　Over　the　gold　bars　on　her　shoulder；　he　could　see　a　monitor　displaying　a　global　positioning　diagram。　He　had　seen　this　screen　before。　Their　ship　showed　on　the　screen　as　a　cross；　the　long　axis　indicating　direction　of　travel。　Its　forward　end　was　steadily　approaching　a　red　line　that　arced　gently　across　the　diagram。　Every　few　seconds；　the　screen　flickered　as　the　chart　information　was　updated　via　satellite。　When　they　crossed　that　line；　they　would　be　in　international　waters。　Home　free。
　〃How　long？〃　he　asked。
　〃Eight　minutes；〃　Britton　replied。　Her　voice；　though　cool　as　ever；　had　lost　the　tightness　of　those　harrowing　final　minutes　at　the　island。
　Lloyd　glanced　over　at　Glinn。　He　was　standing　beside　Puppup；　hands　clasped　behind　his　back；　his　face　the　usual　mask　of　indifference。　Still；　Lloyd　felt　sure　he　could　see　a　smugness　lingering　in　those　impassive　eyes。　As　well　it　should。　They　were　minutes　from　one　of　the　greatest　scientific　and　engineering　achievements　of　the　twentieth　century。　He　waited；　not　rushing　it。
　He　glanced　around　the　rest　of　the　pany：　the　crew　of　the　watch；　tired　but　satisfied；　anticipating　their　relief。　Chief　Mate　Howell；　inscrutable。　McFarlane　and　Amira；　standing　together　silently。　Even　the　crafty　old　doctor；　Brambell；　had　emerged　from　his　hole　belowdecks。　It　was　as　if；　on　some　unspoken　signal；　they　had　assembled　to　witness　something　momentous。
　Lloyd　straightened　up；　a　small　gesture　meant　to　attract　attention。　He　waited　until　all　eyes　were　on　him；　then　turned　to　Glinn。
　〃Mr。　Glinn；　may　I　offer　you　my　heartfelt　congratulations；〃　he　said。
　Glinn　bowed　slightly。　Smiles　and　glances　went　around　the　bridge。
　At　that　moment　the　bridge　door　opened　and　a　steward　came　in；　wheeling　a　stainless…steel　cart。　The　neck　of　a　champagne　bottle　peeked　out　from　an　urn　of　crushed　ice。　A　dozen　crystal　glasses　were　racked　up　beside　it。
　Lloyd　rubbed　his　hands　together　delightedly。　〃Eli；　you　liar。　You　may　be　an　old　woman　about　some　things；　but　your　timing　today　has　been　exquisite。〃
　〃I　did　tell　an　untruth　when　I　said　I'd　only　brought　one　bottle　along。　Actually；　I　brought　a　case。〃
　〃Marvelous！　Let's　have　at　it；　then。〃
　〃We'll　have　to　make　do　with　this　single　bottle。　This　is　a　ship's　bridge。　Fear　not　…　the　moment　we　reach　New　York　Harbor；　I'll　uncork　the　other　ten　myself。　Meanwhile；　please　do　the　honors。〃　And　he　gestured　toward　the　cart。
　Lloyd　strode　over；　slid　the　bottle　out　of　the　ice；　and　held　it　up　with　a　grin。
　〃Don't　drop　it　this　time；　guv；〃　Puppup　said；　almost　inaudibly。
　Lloyd　looked　at　Britton。　〃How　much　longer？〃
　〃Three　minutes。〃
　The　wind　beat　against　the　windows。　The　panteonero　was　growing；　but　…　Britton　had　informed　him　…　they　would　round　Staten　Island　and　be　in　the　lee　of　Tierra　del　Fuego　long　before　the　southwesterly　wind　shifted　to　the　more　dangerous　northwest。　He　unwired　the　cork　and　waited；　the　bottle　cold　in　his　hand。
　For　a　moment；　the　only　sounds　on　the　bridge　were　the　moan　of　the　wind　and　the　distant　thundering　of　the　ocean。　Then　Britton　looked　up　from　the　screen　and　glanced　at　Howell；　who　nodded　his　affirmation。
　〃The　Rolvaag　has　just　crossed　into　international　waters；〃　she　said　quietly。
　A　small　cheer　erupted。　Lloyd　popped　the　cork　and　began　pouring　judicious　measures　all　around。
　Suddenly　the　grinning　face　of　Puppup　appeared　before　Lloyd；　his　skinny　arms　holding　up　two　glasses。　〃Right　here；　guv。　One　for　me　and　one　for　me　friend。〃　He　ducked　his　head。
　Lloyd　emptied　the　bottle　into　the　glasses。　〃Who's　your　friend？〃　he　asked；　smiling　indulgently。　The　man's　role；　though　not　large；　had　been　crucial。　He　would　find　him　a　good　job　at　the　Lloyd　Museum；　in　maintenance　perhaps；　or　even　security。　Or　maybe；　as　the　last　surviving　Yaghan　Indian；　there　might　be　something　even　better。　Perhaps　he　should　consider　some　kind　of　exhibit；　after　all。　It　would　be　tasteful　and　correct　…　a　far　cry　from　those　nineteenth…century　exhibitions　of　primitive　people…but　it　could　be　a　draw。　Especially　with　Puppup　on　hand　as　the　last　living　example。　Yes；　he　would　have　to　think　about　it。。。
　〃Hanuxa；〃　Puppup　answered；　with　another　duck　and　grin。　Lloyd　looked　up　in　time　to　see　his　rabbitlike　retreat；　drinking　two…fistedly　from　both　glasses。
　The　chief　mate's　voice　broke　through　the　hubbub。　〃I've　got　a　surface　contact　at　thirty…two　miles；　bearing　three　one　five　true　at　twenty　knots。〃
　Instantly；　the　conversation　ceased。　Lloyd　glanced　over　at　Glinn；　eager　for　assurance；　and　felt　a　prickly　sensation　stir　in　his　gut。　The　man　had　an　expression　on　his　face　he　had　never　seen　before：　a　look　of　sick　surprise。
　〃Glinn？〃　he　said。　〃It's　some　merchant　vessel；　right？〃
　Without　answering；　Glinn　turned　to　his　operative　at　the　EES　console　and　spoke　a　few　words　in　an　undertone。
　〃It's　the　Almirante　Ramirez；〃　said　Britton　in　an　undertone。
　〃What？　How　can　you　know　that　from　the　radar？〃　Lloyd　asked；　the　prickly　sensation　turning　into　a　flush　of　disbelief。
　Britton　looked　at　him。　〃There's　no　way　to　tell　for　sure；　but　it's　in　the　right　place　at　the　right　time。　Most　shipping　would　be　heading　through　the　Strait　of　Le　Maire；　particularly　in　this　weather。　But　this　one's　ing　after　us；　with　all　it's　got。〃
　Lloyd　watched　as　Glinn　conferred　with　the　man　at　the　puter。　There　was　the　faint　sound　of　a　dial　tone；　of　highspeed　dialing；　the　hiss　of　a　digital　handshake。
　〃I　thought　you　put　that　son　of　a　bitch　out　of　action；〃　Lloyd　said。
　Glinn　straightened　up；　and　Lloyd　was　immediately　reassured　to　see　that　the　collected；　confident　expression　had　returned　to　his　face。　〃Our　friend　proves　unusually　resourceful。〃
　〃Resourceful？〃
　〃andante　Vallenar　has　managed　to　repair　his　vessel；　at　least　partly。　Quite　an　achievement。　I　can　scarcely　believe　it　possible。　But　it　makes　no　difference。〃
　〃Why　not？〃　Britton　asked。
　〃It's　all　in　the　puter　profile。　He　will　not　pursue　us　into　international　waters。〃
　〃That's　a　rather　ar