alistairmaclean.bearisland-第24部分

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　I　knew　I　would　never　see　him　again。　Not　alive。
　
　6
　
　Dawn；　in　those　high　latitudes　and　at　that　time　of　year；　did　not　e　until　half…past　ten　in　the　morning；　and　it　was　then　that　we　buried　the　three　dead　men；　Antonio　and　Moxen　and　Scott；　and　surely　their　shades　would　have　forgiven　us　for　the　almost　indecent　dispatch　with　which　their　funerals　were　carried　out；　for　that　driving　blizzard　was　still　at　its　height；　the　wind　was　full　of　razored　knives　and　struck　through　both　clothes　and　flesh　and　laid　its　icy　fingers　on　the　marrow。　Captain　Imrie；　a　large　and　brassbound　Bible　in　his　mittened　hands；　read　swiftly　through　the　burial　service　or　at　least　I　assumed　he　did；　he　could　have　been　reading　the　Sermon　on　the　Mount　for　all　I　could　tell；　the　wind　just　plucked　the　inaudible　words　from　his　mouth　and　carried　them　out　over　the　grey…white　desolation　of　waters。　Three　times　a　canvas…wrapped　bundle　slid　smoothly　out　from　beneath　the　Morning　Rose's　only　Union　flag；　three　times　a　bundle　vanished　soundlessly　beneath　the　surface　of　the　sea：　we　could　see　the　splashes　but　not　hear　them　for　our　cars　were　full　of　the　high　and　lonely　lament　of　the　wind's　requiem　in　the　frozen　rigging。
　On　land；　mourners　customarily　find　it　difficult　to　tear　themselves　away　from　a　newly　filled　grave；　but　here　there　was　no　grave；　there　was　nothing　to　look　at　and　the　bitter　cold　was　sufficient　to　drive　from　every　mind　any　thought　other　than　that　of　immediate　shelter　and　warmth：　besides；　Captain　Imrie　had　said　that　it　was　an　old　fisherman's　custom　to　drink　a　toast　to　the　dead。　Whether　it　was　or　not　I　had　no　idea；　it　could　well　have　been　a　custom　that　Imrie　had　invented　himself；　and　certainly　the　deceased　had　been　no　fisherman：　but　whatever　its　origin　I'm　sure　that　it　made　its　contributory　effect　towards　the　extremely　rapid　clearing　of　the　decks。　I　remained　where　I　was。　I　felt　inhibited　from　joining　the　others　not　because　I　found　Captain　Imrie's　proposal　distasteful　or　ethically　objectionable…only　the　most　hypocritical　could　find　in　the　Christian　ethic　a　bar　to　wishing　bon　voyage　to　the　departed…but　because；　in　crowded　surroundings；　it　could　be　very　difficult　to　see　who　was　filling　my　glass　and　what　he　was　filling　it　with。　Moreover；　I'd　had　no　more　than　three　hours'　sleep　the　previous　night；　my　mind　was　tired　and　a　bit　fuzzy　round　the　edges　and　it　was　my　hope　that　the　admittedly　heroic　treatment　of　exposure　to　an　Arctic　blizzard　might　help　to　blow　some　of　the　cobwebs　away。　I　took　a　firm　hold　on　one　of　the　numerous　lifelines　that　were　rigged　on　deck；　edged　my　way　out　to　the　largest　of　one　of　the　numerous　deck　cargoes　we　were　carrying；　took　what　illusory　shelter　was　offered　in　its　lee　and　waited　for　the　cobwebs　to　fly　away。
　Halliday　was　dead。　I　hadn't　found　his　body；　I'd　searched；　casually　and　unobtrusively；　every　likely　and　most　of　the　unlikely　places　of　concealment　on　the　Morning　Rose：　he　had　vanished　and　left　no　trace。　Halliday；　I　knew；　was　lying　in　the　black　depths　of　the　Barents　Sea。　How　he'd　got　there　I　didn't　know　and　it　didn't　seem　to　be　important：　it　could　be　that　someone　had　helped　him　over　the　side　but　it　was　even　more　probable　that　he　had　required　no　assistance。　He'd　left　the　saloon　as　abruptly　as　he　had　because　the　poison　in　his　Scotch…my　Scotch…had　been　as　fast　acting　as　it　had　been　deadly。　He　had　felt　the　urgent　need　to　be　sick　and　the　obvious　place　to　be　sick　was　over　the　side：　a　slip　on　the　snow　or　ice；　one　of　the　hundreds　of　trough…seeking　lurches　that　the　trawler　had　experienced　during　the　night　and　in　what　must　have　been　by　that　time　his　ill；　weakened；　and　dazed　state；　he　would　have　been　quite　unable　to　prevent　himself　from　pitching　over　the　low　guardrails。　The　only　consolation；　if　consolation　it　was；　was　that　he　had　probably　succumbed　from　poison　before　his　lungs　had　filled　with　water。　I　did　not　subscribe　to　the　popular　belief　that　death　from　drowning　was　a　relatively　easy　and　painless　way　to　go　if　for　no　other　reason　than　that　it　was　a　theory　that　in　the　nature　of　things　lacked　positive　documentation。
　I　was　as　certain　as　could　be　that　Halliday's　absence　had　so　far　gone　unnoticed　by　everyone　except　myself　and　the　person　responsible　for　his　death　and　there　was　not　even　certainty　about　that　last　point；　it　was　quite　possible　that　he　knew　nothing　of　Halliday's　brief　visit　to　the　saloon。　True；　Halliday　had　not　appeared　for　breakfast　but　as　a　few　others　had　done　the　same　and　those　who　had　e　had　done　so　intermittently　over　the　best　part　of　a　couple　of　hours；　his　absence　had　gone　unremarked。　His　cabin…mate；　Sandy；　was　still　feeling　under　the　weather　to　the　extent　that　Halliday's　presence　or　absence　was　a　matter　of　total　indifference　to　him：　and　as　Halliday　had　been　very　much　a　solitary　there　was　no　one　who　would　be　sufficiently　concerned　to　enquire　anxiously　as　to　his　whereabouts'。　I　hoped　that　his　absence　remained　undiscovered　as　long　as　possible：　although　the　signed　guarantee　given　to　Captain　Imrie　that　morning　had　contained　no　specific　reference　as　to　the　action　to　be　taken　in　the　event　of　someone　going　missing　he　was　quite　capable　of　seizing　upon　this　as　a　pretext　to　abandon　the　trip　and　make　with　all　speed　for　Hammerfest。
　The　match　I'd　left　jammed　between　the　foot　of　my　cabin　door　and　the　sill　had　no　longer　been　in　position　when　I'd　returned　to　my　cabin　early　in　the　morning。　The　Coins　I'd　left　in　the　linen　pockets　of　the　lids　of　my　suitcases　had　shifted　position　from　the　front　to　the　back　of　the　pockets；　sure　evidence　that　my　cases　had　been　opened　in　my　absence。　It　says　much　for　my　frame　of　mind　that　the　discovery　occasioned　me　no　particular　surprise…which　was　in　itself　surprising；　for　although　someone　aboard　was　aware　that　the　good　doctor　had　been　boning　up　on　aconitine　and　so　had　more　than　a　fair　idea　that　the　poisoning　had　not　been　accidental；　that　in　itself　was　hardly　reason　to　start　examining　the　doctor's　hand　luggage。　More　than　ever；　it　behooved　me　to　watch　my　back。
　I　heard　a　sound　behind　my　back。　My　instinctive　reaction　was　to　take　a　couple　of　rapid　steps　forward；　who　knew　what　hard　or　sharp　implement　might　be　ing　at　my　occiput　or　shoulder　blades；　then　whirl　round；　but　a　simultaneous　reasoning　told　me　that　it　was　unlikely　that　anyone　would　propose　to　do　me　in　on　the　upper　deck　in　daylight　under　the　interested　gaze　of　watchers　on　the　bridge；　so　I　turned　round　leisurely　and　saw　Charles　Conrad　moving　into　what　little　shelter　was　offered　in　the　lee　of　the　bulk　deck　cargo。
　〃What's　this；　then？〃　I　said。　〃The　morning　constitutional　at　all　costs？
　Or　don't　you　fancy　Captain　Imrie's　Scotch？〃
　〃Neither。〃　He　smiled。　〃Curiosity；　is　all。〃　He　tapped　the　tarpaulin　covered　bulk　beside　us。　It　was　close　on　ten　feel？　in　height；　semicylindrical…the　base　was　flat…and　was　lashed　in　position　by　at　least　a　dozen　steel　cables。　〃Do　you　know　what　this　is？〃
　Is　this　a　clever　question？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃Prefabricated　Arcticised　buts。　Or　so　the　word　went　in　Wick。　Six　of　them；　designed　to　fit　one　inside　the　other　for　ease　of　transportation。〃
　〃That's　it。　Made　of　bonded　ply；　kapok　insulation；　asbestos；　and　aluminium。〃　He　pointed　to　another　bulky　item　of　deck　cargo　immediately　foreword　of　the　one　behind　which　we　were　sheltering。　This　peculiarly　shaped　object　appeared　to　be　roughly　oval　along　its　length；　perhaps　six　feel？　high。
　〃And　this？〃
　〃Another　clever　question？〃
　〃Of　course。〃
　。And　my　answer　will　be　wrong？　Again？〃
　〃If　you　still　believe　what　you　were　told　in　Wick；　yes。　Those　aren't　huts　because　we　don't　need　huts。　We're　heading　for　an　area　called　the　Sor…Hamna…　the　South　Haven　…where　there　already　are　huts；　and　perfectly　usable　ones。　Bloke　called　Lerner　came　there　seventy　years　ago；　prospecting　for　coal…which　he　found；　by　the　way：　a　bit　of　an　odd…ball　who　painted　the　rocks　on　the　shore　in　the　German　national　colours　to　indicate　that　this　was　private　property。　He　built　huts…he　even　built　a　road　across　the　headland　to　the　nearest　bay；　the　Kvalross　Bukta　or　Walrus　Bay。　After　him　a　German　fishing　pany　based　themselves　here…and　they　built　huts。　More　importantly；　a　Norwegian　scientific　expedition　spent　nine　months　here　during　the　most　recent　International　Geophysical　Year　and　they　built　huts。　Whatever　else　is　lacking　at　South　Haven　it's　not　acmodation。〃
　〃You're　very　well　informed。〃
　I　don't　forget　something　that　I　finished　reading　only　half　an　hour　ago。
　in〃　and　Goin's　been　making　the　rounds　this　morning　handing　out　copies　of　the　prospectus　of　what's　going　to　be　the　greatest　film　ever　made。　Didn't　you　get　one　from　him？〃
　〃Yes。　He　forgot　to　give　me　a　dictionary；　though。〃
　〃A　dictionary　would　have　helped。〃　He　tapped　the　tarpaulin　〃beside　us。
　〃This　is　a　mock…up　of　the　central　section　of　a　submarine…just　a　shell；　nothing　inside　it。　When　I　say　it's　a　mock…up；　I　don't　mean　its　made　of　cardboard…it's　made　of　steel　and　weighs　ten　tons；　including　four　tons　of　iron　ballast。　That　other　item　in　front　is　a　conning　tower　which　is　to　be　bolted　onto　this　once　it's　in　the　water。〃
　〃Ah！〃　I　said　because　I　couldn't　think　of　any　other　ment。　〃And　those　alleged　tractors　and　drums　of　fuel　on　the　afterdeck…they'll　be　tanks　and　antiaircraft　guns？〃
　'Tractors　and　fuel；　as　stated。〃　He　paused。　〃Do　you　know　there's　only　one　copy　of　the　screenplay　for　this　film　and　that　that's　locked　up　in　the　Bank　of　England　or　some　such？〃
　I　went　to　sleep　about　that　bit。〃
　〃They　haven't　even　got　a　shooting　script　for　the　scenes　to　be　shot　on　the　island。　Just　a　series　of　unrelated　incidents　which　taken　together　make　no　sense　at　all。　Sure；　there　must　be　connecting　links　to　make　sense　of　it　all：　but　they're　all　in　the　vaults　in　Threadneedle　Street　or　wherever　this　damned　bank　is。　No　part　of　it　makes　sense。〃
　〃Maybe　it's　not　meant　to　make　sense。〃　I　was　conscious　that　my　feelings　were　slowly　turning　into　blocks　of　ice。　〃Not　at　this　stage。　There　may　be　excellent　reasons　for　the　secretiveness。　Besides；　don't　some　producers　encourage　directors　who　play　it　off　the　cuff；　who　improvise　as　they　go　along　and　as　the　mood　takes　them？〃
　〃Not　Neal　Divine。　He's　never　shot　an　off…the…cuff　scene　in　his　life。〃
　Not　much　of　Conrad's　forehead　was　to　be　seen　beneath　the　thick　brown　hair　that　the　snow　and　wind　had　brought　down　almost　to　eyebrow　level；　but　what　little　was　visible　was　very　heavily　corrug