inca.gold-第88部分

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't　need　a　lecture　to　know　what　Sarason's　men　were　doing。　They　were　roving　around　the　open　decks　above；　shooting　at　anything　that　vaguely　resembled　a　body　under　the　water。　He　could　hear　voices　shouting；　but　the　words　came　muffled。　No　large　fish　within　a　radius　of　50　meters　（164　feet）　survived　the　bombardment。
　　　　The　click　of　the　lock　on　the　access　door　came　as　he　had　expected。　He　slipped　deeper　into　the　water　until　only　half　his　head　was　exposed　but　he　was　still　hidden　to　anyone　above　by　one　of　the　huge　floats。
　　　　He　could　not　see　the　unshaven　face　that　peered　downward　through　the　paddlewheel　at　the　water；　but　this　time　he　heard　a　voice　loud　and　clear　from　behind　the　intruder　at　the　door；　a　voice　he　had　e　to　know　too　well。　He　could　feel　the　hairs　stiffen　on　the　nape　of　his　neck　at　hearing　the　words　spoken　by　Amaru。
　　　　〃See　any　sign　of　him？〃
　　　　〃Nothing　down　here　but　fish；〃　grunted　the　searcher　in　the　access　door；　catching　sight　of　the　spotted　sand　bass。
　　　　〃He　didn't　surface　away　from　the　ship。　If　he's　not　dead；　he　must　be　hiding　somewhere　underneath　the　ship。〃
　　　　〃Nobody　hiding　down　here。　A　waste　of　energy　to　bother　looking。　We　put　enough　lead　into　him　to　use　his　corpse　for　an　anchor。〃
　　　　〃I　won't　feel　satisfied　until　I　see　the　body；〃　said　Amaru　in　a　businesslike　tone。
　　　　〃You　want　a　body；〃　said　the　gunman；　pulling　back　through　the　access　door；　〃then　drag　a　grappling　hook　h　rough　the　silt。　That's　the　only　way　you'll　ever　see　him　again。〃
　　　　〃Back　to　the　forward　boarding　ramp；〃　Amaru　ordered。　〃The　fishing　boat　is　returning。〃
　　　　Pitt　could　hear　the　diesel　throb　and　feel　the　beat　of　the　fishing　boat's　propellers　through　the　water　as　it　pulled　alongside　to　take　off　Samson　and　his　mercenary　scum。　Pitt　wondered　vaguely　what　his　friends　would　say　to　him　for　running　out　on　them　even　though　it　was　a　desperate　measure　to　save　their　lives。
　　　　Nothing　was　going　according　to　plan。　Sarason　was　two　steps　ahead　of　Pitt。
　　　　Already　Pitt　had　allowed　Loren　and　Gunn　to　suffer　at　the　hands　of　the　art　thieves。　Already　he'd　stupidly　done　nothing　while　the　crew　and　ferryboat　were　captured。　Already　he'd　given　away　the　secret　to　Huascar's　treasure。　The　way　he　was　handling　events；　Pitt　wouldn't　have　been　surprised　if　Sarason　and　his　cronies　elected　him　chairman　of　the　board　of　Solpemachaco。
　　　　Nearly　an　hour　passed　before　he　sensed　the　sounds　of　the　fishing　boat　die　in　the　distance。　This　was　followed　by　the　beating　rotor　of　a　helicopter　lifting　off　the　ferry；　indisputably　the　NUMA　helicopter。　Pitt　cursed。　Another　gift　to　the　criminals。
　　　　Darkness　had　fallen　and　no　lights　reflected　on　the　water。　Pitt　wondered　why　the　men　on　the　upper　decks　had　taken　so　long　to　evacuate　the　vessel。　His　absolute　conviction　was　that　one　or　more　would　be　left　behind　to　take　care　of　him　in　the　event　the　dead　came　back　to　life。　Amaru　and　Samson　could　not　kill　the　others　unless　they　knew　with　cold　certainty　that　Pitt　was　dead　and　could　tell　no　tales　to　the　authorities；　especially　the　news　media。
　　　　Pitt　could　feel　apprehension　in　his　chest　like　a　stone　tied　to　his　heart。　He　was　at　a　distinct　disadvantage。　If　Loren　and　Rudi　had　been　removed　from　the　Alhambra；　he　had　to　get　ashore　somehow　and　inform　Giordino　and　the　Customs　officials　in　the　U。S。　border　town　of　Calexico　of　the　situation。　And　what　of　the　crew？　Caution　dictated　that　he　must　be　certain　Amaru　and　his　friends　were　no　longer　on　board。　If　one　of　them　stayed　behind　to　see　if　he　was　only　playing　dead；　they　could　wait　him　out。　They　had　all　the　time　in　the　world。　He　had　practically　none。
　　　　He　pushed　away　from　the　float；　curled　over　and　dived　under　the　hull。　The　bottom　silt　seemed　closer　to　the　keel　than　he　remembered　from　his　earlier　dive。　It　didn't　seem　logical　until　he　passed　under　a　bilge　exhaust　pipe　and　felt　a　strong　pull　of　suction。　Pitt　didn't　have　to　be　told　that　the　seacocks　in　the　bilge　had　been　opened。　Amaru　was　scuttling　the　Alhambra。
　　　　He　turned　and　swam　slowly　toward　the　end　of　the　ferryboat　where　he　had　left　the　helicopter。　He　took　the　risk　of　being　seen　by　surfacing　briefly　alongside　the　hull　beneath　the　deck　overhang　to　take　another　breath。　After　nearly　an　hour　and　a　half's　immersion；　he　felt　waterlogged。　His　skin　looked　like　that　of　a　shriveled　old　man　of　ninety…five。　He　did　not　feel　overly　fatigued；　but　he　sensed　his　strength　was　reduced　by　a　good　20　percent。　He　slipped　under　the　hull　again　and　made　for　the　shallow　rudders　fitted　on　the　end。　They　soon　loomed　out　of　the　murky　water。　He　reached　out　and　gripped　one　and　slowly　raised　his　face　out　of　the　water。
　　　　No　leering　face　stared　back；　no　guns　aimed　between　his　eyes。　He　hung　on　to　the　rudder　and　floated；　relaxing　and　building　back　his　strength。　He　listened；　but　no　sound　came　from　the　auto　deck　above。
　　　　Finally；　he　pulled　himself　up　far　enough　to　lift　his　eyes　over　the　raised　edge　of　the　entry/exit　ramp。　The　Alhambra　was　in　plete　darkness　with　neither　interior　nor　exterior　lights　showing。　Her　decks　appeared　still　and　lifeless。　As　he　suspected；　the　NUMA　helicopter　was　gone。　The　tingling　fear　of　the　unknown　traveled　up　his　spine。　Like　an　old　fort　on　the　western　frontier　before　a　surprise　attack　by　the　Apaches；　it　was　far　too　quiet。
　　　　This　wasn't　one　of　his　better　days；　Pitt　thought。　His　friends　were　captured　and　held　hostage。　They　might　be　dead。　A　thought　he　refused　to　dwell　on。　He'd　lost　another　NUMA　aircraft。　Stolen　by　the　very　criminals　he　was　supposed　to　entice　into　a　trap。　The　ferryboat　was　sinking　beneath　him　and　he　was　dead　certain　one　or　more　killers　were　lurking　somewhere　on　board　to　exact　a　terrible　revenge。　All　in　all　he'd　rather　have　been　in　East　St。　Louis。
　　　　How　long　he　hung　on　the　rudder　he　couldn't　be　sure。　Maybe　five　minutes；　maybe　fifteen。　His　eyes　were　accustomed　to　the　dark；　but　all　he　could　see　inside　the　big　auto　deck　was　the　dim　reflection　of　the　chrome　bumpers　and　radiator　grill　of　the　Pierce　Arrow。　He　hung　there　waiting　to　see　a　movement　or　hear　the　faint　sound　of　stealth。　The　deck　that　stretched　into　the　gaping　cavern　looked　frightening。　But　he　had　to　enter　it　if　he　wanted　a　weapon；　he　thought　nervously；　any　weapon　to　protect　himself　from　men　who　intended　to　turn　him　into　sushi。
　　　　Unless　Amaru's　men　had　made　a　professional　search　of　the　old　Travelodge；　they　wouldn't　have　found　inventor　John　Browning's　dependable　Colt　。45　automatic　where　Pitt　kept　it　in　the　vegetable　drawer　of　the　refrigerator。
　　　　He　gripped　the　deck　overhang　and　heaved　himself　on　board。　It　took　Pitt　all　of　five　seconds　to　run　across　the　deck；　sweep　the　door　of　the　trailer　against　its　stops；　and　leap　inside。　In　a　clockwork　motion；　he　tore　open　the　door　to　the　refrigerator　and　pulled　open　the　vegetable　drawer。　The　Colt　automatic　lay　where　he'd　left　it。　For　a　brief　instant　relief　washed　over　him　like　a　waterfall　as　he　gripped　the　trusty　weapon　in　his　hand。
　　　　His　feeling　of　deliverance　was　short…lived。　The　Colt　felt　light　in　his　hand；　too　light。　He　pulled　back　the　slide　and　ejected　the　magazine。　It　and　the　firing　chamber　were　empty。　With　mushrooming　despair　and　desperation　he　checked　the　drawer　beside　the　stove　that　held　the　kitchen　knives。　They　were　gone；　along　with　all　the　silverware。　The　only　weapon　in　the　trailer　was　the　seemingly　useless　Colt　automatic。
　　　　Cat　and　mouse。
　　　　They　were　out　there　all　right。　Pitt　now　knew　Amaru　was　going　to　take　his　time　and　toy　with　his　prey　before　dismembering　him　and　throwing　the　pieces　over　the　side。　Pitt　treated　himself　to　a　few　moments　for　strategy。　He　sat　down　in　the　dark　on　the　trailer's　bed　and　calmly　began　planning　his　next　moves。
　　　　If　any　of　the　killers　were　haunting　the　auto　deck；　they　could　easily　have　shot；　knifed；　or　bashed　Pitt　with　a　club　during　his　dash　to　the　trailer。　For　that　matter；　there　was　nothing　stopping　them　from　breaking　in　and　ending　it　here。　Amaru　was　a　sly　hombre；　Pitt　grudgingly　admitted　to　himself。　The　South　American　had　guessed　Pitt　was　still　alive　and　would　head　for　any　available　weapon　at　the　first　opportunity。　Searching　the　trailer　and　finding　the　gun　was　shrewd。　Removing　the　bullets　but　leaving　the　gun　in　its　place　was　downright　sadistic。　That　was　merely　the　first　step　in　a　game　of　torment　and　misery　before　the　final　deathblow。　Amaru　intended　to