cussler.blueandgold-第18章

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　top　speed。　Zavala　barked；　〃Something's　wrong；　Kurt！　I　am　detecting　alarms　inside　the　facility。〃　Moments　later；　Austin　heard　a　loud；　muffled　whump。　He　turned　to　look　over　his　shoulder　just　as　the　facility　exploded　in　a　fiery　ball。　The　inferno　instantly　incinerated　every　living　thing　in　the　enclosed　space。　Superheated　gas　shot　up　pipes　into　the　tortilla　factory。　Luckily；　the　factory　was　empty　be　cause　it　was　Sunday。　The　Brogan　wasn't　as　fortunate。　It　was　caught　by　the　shock　wave　and　tumbled　end　over　end　with　Austin　desperately　clinging　on。
　
　Austin　felt　as　if　he　had　been　kicked　by　a　giant　invisible　mule。　The　harness　straps　let　go；　and　he　was　flung　forward；　arms　and　legs　flailing；　in　a　tangle　of　air　hoses。　He　cartwheeled　for　an　eternity　and　might　have　kept　going　halfway　across　the　Pacific　if　he　hadn't　slammed　into　the　net　strung　across　the　mouth　of　the　la　goon。　He　hit　the　mesh　with　his　feet；　which　was　fortunate；　be…。　cause　a　headfirst　impact　would　have　broken　his　neck。　The　netting　yielded；　then　snapped　back。　Austin　shot　out　like　a　rock　in　a　boy's　slingshot。
　
　Right　into　the　path　of　the　oning　submersible。
　
　The　mini's　dome　had　been　ripped　off；　and　Zavala　was　no　longer　inside。　The　sub　tumbled　at　Austin　on　a　collision　course。　Austin　brought　his　knees　up　to　his　chest　and　wrapped　his　arms　around　them。　He　seemed　fated　to　be　smashed　like　a　bug　on　a　car　windshield　when　the　sub　did　a　little　hop　that　took　it　over　Austin's　head。　He　felt　a　painful　impact　as　a　pontoon　grazed　his　shoulder。　Then　he　was　buffeted　by　secondary　shock　waves　from
　multiple　explosions　that　slowed　his　velocity　and　tossed　him　back　after　the　mini…sub。　The　Brogan　had　battered　its　way　through　the　net；　and　this　time　there　was　nothing　to　stop　him。
　
　Instinctively；　he　swooped　his　arm　out　to　retrieve　his　regulator　hose；　clenched　the　mouthpiece　between　his　teeth；　and　took　a　breathy　gulp　of　air。　The　regulator　was　still　working。　His　face　mask　was　a　cobweb　of　fracture　lines　where　one　of　the　hoses　had　hit　the　lens。　Better　the　mask　than　his　face！　He　whipped　the　use　less　mask　off；　assumed　a　vertical　position；　and　did　a　plete　turn。
　
　He　knew　he　had　better　get　to　the　surface；　but　he　wasn't　going　to　do　it　without　Zavala。　One　more　try。　He　spun　slowly　around。　Without　the　mask　his　vision　was　blurred；　but　he　thought　he　saw　a　spot　of　purple　and　swam　toward　it。　Zavala　was　floating　a　few　feet　off　the　bottom。　Bubbles　were　ing　from　his　mouth。
　
　Austin　pushed　the　regulator　toward　Zavala's　face；　not　sure　if　it　ever　found　its　mark；　because　the　willpower　he　had　been　using　to　operate　on　was　eaten　away　by　the　black　angry　surf　crashing　against　his　brain。　He　reached　down　and　let　the　quick…release　buckle　go　on　his　weight　belt　and　groped　for　the　inflation　valve　of　his　buoyancy　pensator。　He　thought　he　heard　another　explosion。　Then　he　blacked　out　pletely。
　
　Chapter　10
　Trout　stood　at　the　door　of　the　hut　as　motionless　as　a　totem　pole；　watching　and　listening。　He　had　been　at　his　post　for　hours；　staring　into　the　darkness；　his　every　sense　alert　to　catch　any　change　in　the　rhythms　of　the　night。　He　had　watched　the　day　wind　down　and　seen　the　shadows　mix　with　the　false　dusk　created　by　smoldering　cook　fires。　The　last　few　natives　had　disappeared　into　their　huts　like　sullen　phantoms；　and　the　village　went　silent　except　for　the　brief　muffled　cry　of　a　baby。　Trout　was　thinking　what　an　unhealthy　place　this　was。　It　was　as　if　he　and　Gamay　had　stumbled　into　a　plague　ward。
　
　The　Dutchman　had　kicked　the　family　out　of　the　hut　closest　to　his　and　with　a　sweep　of　his　hand　ushered　the　Trouts　through　the　door　like　the　doorman　at　the　Ritz。　Slivers　of　light　filtered　through　the　grass　walls　into　the　dim　interior。　Hardly　a　breath　of　fresh　air　entered　the　close　confines。　The　floor　was　dirt；　a　couple　of　hammocks　were　slung　from　support　poles；　and　the　furniture　consisted　of　two　crude　stools　and　a　cutting　board　fashioned　out　of　stumps。　The　stifling　heat　and　primitive　acmodations　didn't　faze　Trout。　He　was　more　bothered　by　the　feeling　he　and　Gamay　were　trapped。
　
　He　wrinkled　his　nose；　a　gesture　he'd　picked　up　from　his　father；　a　Cape　Cod　fisherman。　Trout　could　picture　his　father　walking　to　the　end　of　the　pier　in　the　predawn　darkness　and　sniffing　the　air　like　an　old　hound　dog。　Most　days　he'd　say；　〃Finest　kind；　
　cap。　Let's　go　fishing。〃　But　some　mornings　he　would　wrinkle　his　nose　and　head　for　the　coffee　shop　without　another　word。　Any　doubts　about　the　elder　Trout's　olfactory　prowess　disappeared　one　beautiful　morning　when　he　stayed　in　port　and　six　fishermen　were　lost　in　an　unpredicted　offshore　storm。　Things　hadn't　smelled　right；　his　father　explained　later。
　
　Trout　had　the　same　feeling　although　he　was　far　from　the　sea　in　the　heart　of　the　Venezuelan　rain　forest。　It　was　simply　too　quiet。　There　were　no　voices；　no　coughing；　nothing　to　indicate　human　habitation　of　any　kind。　While　it　was　still　light　Trout　had　mitted　every　detail　of　the　village　to　his　near…photographic　memory。　He　began　to　imagine　that　the　population　of　the　village　must　have　silently　vanished　in　the　night。　He　backed　away　from　the　doorway　and　bent　over　the　still　form　lying　in　a　hammock。　Gamay　reached　up　and　felt　his　face　with　a　light　touch　of　her　fingers。
　
　〃I'm　awake；〃　she　said。　〃Just　thinking。〃
　
　〃About　what？〃
　
　She　sat　up　and　swung　her　feet　onto　the　floor。　〃I　don't　trust　our　friend　the　Flying　Dutchman　any　further　than　I　could　throw　him。　Not　that　I　would　touch　him。　Yech。〃
　
　〃I　agree　with　your　sentiments　exactly。　I　think　someone　is　watching　us。〃　He　glanced　toward　the　doorway。　〃This　hut　re　minds　me　of　a　lobster　trap。　One　way　in；　no　way　out；　except　to　the　cooking　pot。　I　suggest　we　spend　the　night　on　the　boat。〃
　
　〃Much　as　I　hate　to　leave　these　five…star　acmodations；　I'm　ready　when　you　are。　Question。　How　do　we　sneak　off　with　someone　watching？〃
　
　〃Simple；　we　go　out　the　back　door。〃
　
　〃There　wasn't　a　back　door　last　time　I　looked。〃
　
　〃Guess　you've　never　heard　of　Yankee　ingenuity；〃　Trout　said　smugly。　〃If　you　would　stand　watch　I'll　put　my　cleverness　to　work。〃　He　slipped　a　hunting　knife　from　its　belt　sheath　and　went　to　the　back　of　the　hut。　Kneeling；　he　slipped　the　eight…inch　blade　through　the　thatch　and　began　to　saw。　The　rustle　and　snap　were　barely　audible；　but　to　be　on　the　safe　side　he　timed　his　sawing　to
　the　cry　of　an　unknown　forest　creature　that　made　a　noise　like　a　rat…tail　file　on　metal。　Within　minutes　he　had　cut　a　rectangular　opening　about　two　feet　square　in　the　rear　wall。　He　went　to　the　front　of　the　hut　and　guided　Gamay　by　the　arm　to　the　newly　crated　exit。　She　stuck　her　head　through　to　make　sure　it　was　safe；　then　was　out　in　an　instant。　Paul's　basketball　player　body　slithered　out　a　second　later。
　
　They　stood　side…by…side　behind　the　hut　listening　to　the　sym　phony　of　insect　buzzes　and　bird　calls。　Earlier　Gamay　had　noticed　a　path　that　went　from　behind　the　huts　to　the　river。　They　could　see　the　faint　outline　of　hard…packed　earth。　Gamay　led　the　way；　and　before　long　the　huts　were　behind　them　and　their　nostrils　picked　up　the　river　odor　of　damp　rot。　The　path　led　to　the　gardens　they　had　seen　from　the　river　in　daylight。　They　walked　along　the　boggy　edge　of　the　river　and　after　a　few　minutes　saw　the　skeletal　outline　of　the　airboat's　propeller　housing。　They　stopped　in　case　Dieter　had　someone　watching　the　boat。　Paul　threw　a　pebble　into　the　water。　The　plop　failed　to　draw　anyone　out　of　hiding。
　
　They　went　aboard　and　readied　the　boat　to　leave　at　the　first　sign　of　dawn。　Trout　tucked　a　life　preserver　under　his　head　and　stretched　out　on　the　deck。　Gamay　climbed　onto　the　seat　and　took　her　turn　at　the　watch。　Paul　soon　dozed　off。　At　first　he　slept　fitfully　because　of　the　heat　and　insects。　His　exhaustion　caught　up　with　him；　and　eventually　he　slipped　into　a　deep　sleep。　In　his　slumber　he　heard　Gamay　calling　his　name　as　if　from　far　away。　Light　was　ing　through　his　eyelids。　He　blinked　and　saw　Gamay；　still　on　her　perch；　her　face　grotesque　in　a　flickering　yellow　glow。
　
　Three　dugout　canoes　were　pulled　up　alongside　the　airboat。　The　canoes　carried　fierce…looking　Indians　armed　with　razor　sharp　spears　and　machetes。　The　raw　flames　from　the　blazing　torches　they　held　in　their　free　hands　illuminated　the　garish　red　paint　on　their　bronze　bodies　and　faces。　Black　bangs　came　down　to　where　their　eyebrows　would　have　been　if　they　hadn't　been　plucked　clean。　The　Indians　were　clad　in　loincloths　except　for　one　who　wore　a　New　York　Yankees　cap　on　his　head。　Trout　eyed　the　shotgun　the　man　cradled　in　his　arms。　One　more　reason　to　hate　the　Yankees；　he　thought。
　
　Trout　grinned　and　said；　〃Hi。〃　The　granite　expressions　remained　unchanged。　The　man　with　the　shotgun　motioned　for　the　Trouts　to　get　off　the　boat。　They　climbed　onto　the　shore　where　the　Indians　clustered　around　them。　The　Yankees　fan　jerked　the　shotgun　again　in　the　direction　of　the　village。　With　the　Trouts　in　the　middle；　the　torchlight　procession　started　up　the　slope。
　
　〃Sorry；　Paul；〃　Gamay　whispered。　〃They　just　came　out　of　nowhere。〃
　
　〃Not　your　fault。　I　thought　any　threat　would　e　from　land。〃
　
　〃Me；　too。　What　was　the　deal　with　the　smile？〃
　
　〃I　couldn't　think　of　anything　else　to　do。〃
　
　〃I　guess　Dieter　is　smarter　than　we　thought　he　was；〃　Gamay　said　begrudgingly。
　
　〃I　don't　think　so。　Look。〃
　
　As　they　approached　the　clearing　in　front　of　the　huts；　they　saw　Dieter。　He　was　looking　very　pale　and　frightened　in　the　torchlight　and　for　good　reason。　More　Indians　surrounded　him；　their　spear　points　inches　from　his　ample　belly。　Sweat　dripped　off　his　face；　but　he　couldn't　get　to　it　because　his　hands　were　in　the　air。　As　if　he　didn't　have　enough　to　worry　about；　two　white　men　had　their　handguns　leveled　at　his　heart。　They　were　dressed　identically　in　cotton　pants；　long…sleeved　T…shirts；　and　high…topped　leather　boots。　Both　wore　what　looked　like　wide　leather　linesman's　belts　with　metal　clips　attached。　One　was　a　hulking　slovenly　type　who　badly　needed　a　shave。　The　other　was　short　and　slim　and　had　the　dark；　flat　eyes　of　a　cobra。　The　boss　Indian　handed　him　the　Colt。　The　hard　eyes　studied　the　Trouts　for　an　instant；　then　flicked　back　to　the　Dutchman。
　
　〃Here　are　your　couriers；　Dieter；〃　the　man　said　with　a　French　accent。　〃Do　you　still　deny　that　you　tried　to　double…cross　me？〃　
　
　　Dieter　began　to　sweat　even　more　profusely；　the　perspiration　ing　off　his　face　like　a　waterfall。　〃I　swear　to　God　I　never　saw　them　before　this　morning；　Victor。　They　simply　showed　up　here　and　said　Ramirez　sent　them　to　tell　me　about　the　dead　Indian　and　to　warn　trouble　was　brewing。〃　A　sly　look　came　into　his　yellow　eyes。　〃I　didn't　believe　them。　I　put　them　in　the　hut　where　I　could　keep　an　eye　on　them。〃
　
　〃Yes；　I　noticed　your　extraordinary　security　measures；〃　Victor　said　with　undisguised　contempt。　He　turned　to　the　Trouts。　〃Who　are　you？〃
　
　〃My　name　is　Paul　Trout。　This　is　my　wife；　Gamay。　We're　re　searchers　working　with　Dr。　Ramirez　on　a　river　dolphin　project。〃
　
　　〃Why　are　you　here？　There　are　no　dolphins　in　this　part　of　the　river。〃
　
　〃That's　true；〃　Paul　said。　〃We　found　the　body　of　an　Indian　in　a　canoe。　Dr。　Ramirez　thought　trouble　might　be　brewing　and　wanted　us　to　warn　this　village。〃
　
　〃Why　didn't　Ramirez　himself　e　with　this　warning？〃
　
　〃He　hurt　his　ankle　and　couldn't　walk。　Besides；　we　wanted　to　see　mor