cc.iceberg-第11章

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he　helicopter　dipped　neatly　on　a　ninety…degree　angle　and　a　parallel　course　along　the　steep　lava　cliffs　that　burst　from　the　sea　below。　They　passed　over　a　tiny　fishing　village；　nestled　on　a　barron　circle　bay；　its　roofs　painted　in　a　checkered　myriad　of　tile　reds　and　pastel　greens；　an　outpost　at　the　gateway　of　the　Arctic　Circle。
　〃What　time　is　it？〃　Hunnewell　asked；　awakening　from　a　light　sleep。
　〃Ten　minutes　past　four　in　the　morning；〃　Pitt　replied。　〃God；　to　look　at　the　sun；　you'd　think　it　was　four　in　the　afternoon。〃　Hunnewell　yawned　loudly　and　made　a　vain　attempt　to　stretch　in　the　cramped　confines　of　the　cockpit。　〃About　now　I'd　give　my　right　arm　if　I　could　go　back　to　sleep　between　the　crisp　white　sheets　of　a　soft　bed。〃
　〃Keep　your　eyes　propped　open；　it　won't　be　long　now。〃
　〃How　far　to　Reykjavik？〃
　〃Another　half　hour。〃　Pitt　paused　to　make　a　visual　check　of　the　instruments。　〃I　could　have　cut　north　sooner；　but　I　wanted　to　sightsee　the　coastline。〃
　〃Six　hours；　forty…five　minutes　since　we　left　the　Catawaba。　Not　bad　time。〃
　〃Probably　could　have　shaved　that　considerably　if　we　weren't　handicapped　with　an　extra　fuel　tank。〃
　〃Without　it　we'd　be　back　there　somewhere　trying　to　swim　four　hundred　miles　to　shore。〃
　Pitt　grinned。　〃We　could　have　always　sent　a　Mayday　to　the　Coast　Guard。〃
　〃Judging　from　the　mood　mander　Koski　was　in　when　we　took　off；　I　doubt　if　he'd　put　himself　out　for　us　if　we　were　drowning　in　a　bathtub　and　he　had　his　hand　on　the　plug。〃
　〃In　spite　of　what　Koski　thinks　of　me；　I'd　vote　for　him　as　admiral　any　time　he　decided　to　run。　In　my　book　he's　a　damn　good　man。〃
　〃You　have　a　funny　way　of　expressing　your　admiration；〃　Hunnewell　said　dryly。　〃Except　for　your　perceptive　deduction　concerning　the　flame　thrower　hat's　off　to　you　for　that　one；　by　the　way…you　really　didn't　tell　him　a　damned　thing。〃
　〃We　gave　him　the　truth　as　far　as　it　went。　Anything　else　would　have　been　fifty　percent　guesswork。　The　only　real　fact　that　we　omitted　was　the　name　of　Fyrie's　discovery。〃
　〃Zirtonium。〃　Hunnewell's　gaze　was　lost　in　the　distance。　〃Atomic　number：　forty。〃
　〃I　barely　squeaked　through　my　geology　class；〃　Pitt　said；　smiling。　〃zirconium？　What　makes　it　worth　mass　murder？〃
　〃Purified　zirconium　is　vital　in　the　construction　of　nuclear　reactors　because　it　absorbs　little　or　no　radiation。
　
　Every　nation　in　the　world　with　facilities　for　atomic　research　would　give　their　eyeteeth　to　have　it　obtainable　by　the　carload。　Admiral　Sandecker　is　certain　that　if　Fyrie　and　his　scientists　did　indeed　discover　a　vast　zirconium　bonanza；　it　was　under　the　sea　close　enough　to　the　surface　to　be　raised　economically。〃
　
　Pitt　turned　and　stared　out　of　the　cockpit　bubble　at　the　dark　ultramarine　blue　that　stretched　almost　unripPled　to　the　south。　A　fishing　boat　with　a　chain　of　dories　sailed　out　to　sea；　the　tiny　hulls　moving　as　easy　as　if　they　were　gliding　across　a　tinted　mirror。　He　watched　them　through　eyes　that　barely　saw；　his　mind　dwelling　on　the　exotic　element　that　lay　…covered　by　the　cold　waters　below。
　〃A　hell　of　an　undertaking；〃　he　muttered；　just　loud　enough　to　be　heard　over　the　drone　from　the　engine's　exhaust。　〃The　problems　of　raising　raw　ore　from　the　sea　bottom　are　emense。〃
　〃Yes；　but　not　insurmountable。　Fyrie　Limited　employs　the　world's　leading　experts　at　underwater　mining。
　
　That's　how　Kristjan　Fyrie　built　his　empire；　you　know；　dredging　diamonds　off　the　coast　of　Africa。〃　Hunnewell　spoke　with　what　sounded　like　simple　admiration。　〃He　was　only　eighteen；　a　seaman　on　an　old　Greek　freighter；　when　he　jumped　ship　at　Beira；　a　small　port　on　the　coast　Of　Mozambique。　It　didn't　take　him　long　to　catch　the　diamond　fever。　There　was　a　boom　on　in　those　days；　but　the　big　SYndicates　had　all　the　productive　claims　tied　up。
　
　That's　where　Fyrie　stood　out　from　the　rest…he　had　a　shrewd　and　creative　mind。
　〃If　diamond　deposits　could　be　found　on　land　not　two　miles　from　shore；　he　reasoned；　why　couldn't　they　lie　underwater　on　the　continental　shelf？　So　every　day　for　five　months　he　dove　in　the　warm　waters　of　the　Indian　Ocean　until　he　found　a　section　of　the　seabed　that　looked　promising。　Now　the　trick　was　scrounging　the　financing　to　buy　the　needed　dredging　equipment。　Fyrie　had　arrived　in　Africa　with　nothing　but　the　shirt　on　his　back。　To　beg　from　the　white　moneyed　interests　in　the　territory　would　have　been　a　waste　of　time。　They　would　have　taken　everything　and　left　him　with　nothing。〃
　〃One　percent　of　something　is　often　better　than　ninety…nine　percent　of　nothing；〃　Pitt　interjected。
　〃Not　to　Kristjan　Fyrie；〃　Hunnewell　replied　defensively。　〃He　had　a　true　Icelander's　sense　of　principle…share　the　profits　but　never　give　them　away。　He　went　before　the　black　people　of　Mozambique　and　sold　them　on　forming　their　own　syndicate；　with　Kristjan　Fyrie；　of　course；　as　president　and　general　manager。　After　the　black　people　raised　the　financing　for　the　barge　and　dredging　equipment；　Fyrie　worked　twenty　hours　a　day　until　the　entire　operation　was　running　like　a　puter　at　IBM。　The　five　months　of　diving　paid　off…the　dredge　began　to　bring　up　high…grade　diamonds　almost　immediately。　Within　two　years　Fyrie　was　worth　forty　million　dollars。〃
　
　Pitt　noticed　a　dark　speck　in　the　sky；　several　thousand　feet　higher　and　in　front　of　the　Ulysses。　〃You　certainly　seem　to　have　studied　the　Fyrie　history。〃
　〃I　know　it　sounds　strange；〃　Hunnewell　went　on；　〃but　Fyrie　seldom　stayed　with　a　project　more　than　a　few　years。　Most　men　would　have　bled　the　operation　dry。　Not　Kristjan。　After　he　made　a　fortune　beyond　his　wildest　dreams；　he　turned　the　whole　business　over　to　the　people　who　financed　the　venture。〃
　〃Just　gave　it　away？〃
　〃Lock；　stock　and　the　popular　barrel。　He　distributed　every　share　of　his　stock　to　the　native　stockholders；　set　up　a　black　administration　that　could　run　efficiently　without　him；　and　took　the　next　boat　back　to　Iceland。　Of　the　few　white　men　held　in　high　esteem　by　the　Africans；　the　name　of　Kristjan　Fyrie　stands　right　at　the　top。〃
　
　Pitt　was　watching　the　solitary　dark　speck　in　the　northern　sky　turn　into　a　sleek　jet　aircraft。　He　leaned　forward；　screwing　up　his　eyes　against　the　bright　blue　glare。　The　stranger　was　one　of　the　new　executive　jets　built　by　the　British…　fast；　reliable　and　capable　of　whisking　twelve　passengers　halfway　around　the　world　in　a　matter　of　hours　without　a　fuel　stop。　Pitt　barely　had　time　to　realize　that　the　stranger　was　painted　an　ebony　black　from　nose　to　tail　when　it　swept　past　his　range　of　vision　traveling　in　the　opposite　direction。
　〃What　did　Fyrie　do　for　an　encore？〃　he　asked。
　〃Mined　manganese　off　Vancouver　Island　in　British　Columbia　and　brought　in　an　offshore　oil　field　in　Peru　to　name　a　few。　There　were　no　mergers；　no　subsidiaries。　Kristjan　built　Fyrie　Limited　into　a　great　industry　specializing　in　underwater　geological　exploitation；　nothing　else。〃
　〃Did　he　have　a　family？〃
　〃No；　his　parents　died　in　a　fire　when　he　was　very　young。　All　he　had　was　a　twin　sister。　Don't　really　know　much　about　her。　Fyrie　put　her　through　a　finishing　school　in　Switzerland；　and；　so　rumor　has　it；　she　later　became　a　missionary　somewhere　in　New　Guinea。　Apparently　her　brother's　fortune　meant　nothing　to…〃　Hunnewell　never　finished　the　sentence。　He　jerked　sideways　facing　Pitt；　his　eyes　staring　blankly；　his　mouth　open　in　surprise　but　no　words　ing　out。　Pitt　barely　had　time　to　see　the　old　man　slump　forward；　limp　and　dead　to　all　appearances；　as　the　plexiglass　bubble　encircling　the　cockpit　shattered　into　a　thousand　jagged　slivers　and　fell　away。　Twisting　to　one　side　and　throwing　up　an　arm　to　protect　his　face　from　the　blasting　wall　of　cold　air；　Pitt　momentarily　lost　control　of　the　helicopter。　Its　aerodynamics　drastically　altered；　the　Ulysses　nosed　sharply　upward；　almost　on　its　end；　throwing　Pitt　and　the　unconscious　Hunnewell　violently　against　their　backrests。
　
　It　was　then　Pitt　became　aware　of　the　machine　gun　shells　striking　the　fuselage　aft　of　the　seats。　The　sudden　uncontrolled　maneuver　temporarily　saved　their　lives；　the　gunner　aboard　the　black　jet　had　been　caught　off　guard；　adjusting　his　trajectory　too　late　and　sending　most　of　his　fire　into　an　empty　sky。　Is　slow　steed　withUnable　to　match　the　helicopter　without　stalling；　the　mysterious　jet　soared　forward　and　swung　around　in　a　hundred…and…eighty…degree　turn　for　another　assault。　The　bastards　must　have　made　a　sharp　circle　east　and　south　and　west　before　attacking　from　the　rear；　Pitt　quickly　figured　as　he　struggled　to　'bring　the　helicopter　on　a　level　course；　a　near　impossible　task　with　a　two…hundred…mile…an…hour　air　stream　tearing　at　his　eyes。　He　throttled　down；　trying　desperately　to　reduce　the　unseen　force　that　pinned　his　body　against　the　seat。
　
　The　black　jet　swept　by　again。　but　this　time　Pitt　was　ready　for　it。　He　pulled　the　Ulysses　to　an　abrupt　horizontal　stop；　the　rotor　blades　frantically　beating　the　atmosphere；　raising　the　light　craft　in　a　straight　vertical　climb。
　
　The　dodge　worked。　The　pilot　of　the　jet　roared　under　Pitt；　unable　to　bring　the　machine　gun　to　bear。　Twice　more　Pitt　managed　to　shake　his　attacker；　but　it　was　only　a　question　of　time　before　his　opponent　pensated　for　his　rapidly　diminishing　bag　of　tricks。
　
　Pitt　didn't　kid　himself。　There　was　no　escape；　the　battle　was　too　one…sided。　The　score　was　seven　to　nothing　in　favor　of　the　visitors；　with　only　a　few　seconds　left　to　play　in　the　fourth　quarter。　A　grim　smile　wrinkled　around　Pitts　eyes　as　he　lowered　the　copter　to　a　bare　twenty　feet　above　the　water。　Victory　was　hopeless；　but　there　was　a　slight　chance；　an　infinitesimal　fingertip　chance；　he　thought；　for　a　tie　score。　He　studied　the　inkblack　aircraft　as　it　jockied　for　the　last　pass。　There　was　nothing　left　now　but　the　mad　clangor　of　steeljacketed　bullets　smashing　through　the　thin　aluminum　skin　of　the　Ulysses。　Pitt　steadied　the　small　defenseless　craft　and　hovered　as　the　jet　dove　like　a　concrete　bird；　directly　toward　him。
　
　The　gunner；　laying　prone　and　firing　out　an　open　cargo　door；　played　it　cool　this　time。　He　laid　down　a　steady　stream　of　shells；　waiting　for　the　narrowing　gap　to　carry　them　into　the　path　of　the　helicopter。　The　barrage　of　death　was　only　thirty　yards　away　now。　Pitt　braced　himself　for　the　impact　and　threw　the　Ulysses　straight　up　into　the　attacking　plane；　the　helicopter's　rotor　blade！　shattering　as　they　sliced　through　the　jet's　horizontal　stabilizer。　Instinctively　Pitt　flicked　the　ignition　switch　off　as　the　turbine　engine；　without　the　drag　from　the　rotor；　raced　wildly　mid　the　howl　of　tortured　metal。　Then　the　racket　stopped；　and　the　sky　was　silent　except　for　the　wind　that　whistled　in　Pitts　ears。
　
　He　snatched　a　glance　at　the　strange　jet　just　before　it　crashed　into　the　sea；　nose　first；　it's　tail　section　hanging　like　a　broken　arm。　Pitt　and　the　unconscious　Hunnewell　weren't　much　better　off。　All　they　could　do　was　sit　and　wait　for　the　crippled　helicopter　to　drop　like　a　stone　nearly　seventy　feet　into　the　cold　Atlantic　water。
　
　When　the　crash　came；　it　was　much　worse　than　Pitt　had　anticipated。　The　Ulysses　fell　on　its　side　into　the　Iceland　surf　in　six　feet　of　water；　a　scant　football　field　length　from　shore。　Pitts　head　whipped　sideways　and　glanced　off　the　door　frame；　sending　him　into　a　vortex　of　darkness。　Fortunately　the　agonizing　shock　of　the　icy　water　jolted　him　back　to　dizzy　wakefulness。　Waves　of　nausea　swept　over　him；　and