pdouglas.thecodex-第57部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃Wait！　Father's　hit！〃
　〃It's　nothing。〃　The　old　man　stumbled　again　and　grunted。
　They　stopped　briefly　at　the　base　of　the　wall。
　〃Leave　me　alone！〃　the　old　man　roared。
　Ignoring　him；　Tom　examined　the　wound；　wiping　away　the　blood；　locating　the　entrance　and　exit　wounds。　The　bullet　had　passed　through　the　right　lower　abdomen　at　an　angle；　traversing　the　rectus　abdommus　and　ing　out　the　back；　where　it　seemed　to　have　avoided　the　kidney。　It　was　impossible　to　tell　yet　whether　the　peritoneal　cavity　had　been　nicked。　He　pushed　that　possibility　aside　and　palpated　the　area；　his　father　groaned。　It　was　a　serious　wound　and　he　was　losing　blood；　but　at　least　no　arteries　or　major　veins　had　been　cut。
　〃Hurry！〃　Borabay　cried。
　Tom　took　off　his　own　shirt　and　with　one　savage　pull　tore　a　strip　of　cloth　away；　then　another。　He　bound　them　as　best　he　could　around　his　father's　midriff；　trying　to　stem　the　loss　of　blood。
　〃Put　your　arm　around　my　shoulder；〃　Tom　said。
　〃I'll　take　the　other；〃　Vernon　said。
　Tom　felt　the　arm　go　around　him…it　was　skinny　and　hard；　like　a　cable　of　steel。　He　bent　forward　to　take　some　of　his　father's　weight。　He　felt　his　father's　warm　blood　trickling　down　his　leg。
　〃Let's　go。〃
　〃Uff；〃　Broadbent　said；　staggering　a　little　as　they　set　off。
　They　jogged　along　the　base　of　the　wall；　looking　for　an　opening。　Borabay　plunged　through　a　liana…draped　doorway；　and　they　scrambled　across　a　courtyard；　through　another　doorway；　and　along　a　collapsed　gallery。　With　the　double　support　of　Tom　and　Vernon；　Maxwell　Broadbent　was　able　to　move　rapidly　enough；　wheezing　and　grunting　with　pain。
　Borabay　headed　straight　into　the　thickest；　deepest　part　of　the　ruined　city。　They　ran　through　dark　galleries　and　half…collapsed　underground　chambers　with　massive　roots　bursting　through　their　coffered　stone　ceilings。　As　they　ran；　Tom　thought　of　the　Codex　and　all　the　other　things　they　were　leaving　behind。
　They　took　turns　supporting　Broadbent　as　they　moved　on；　passing　through　a　series　of　dim　tunnels；　Borabay　leading　them　in　sharp　turns　and　doubling　back　in　an　effort　to　throw　off　their　pursuer。　They　came　out　into　a　grove　of　giant　trees；　surrounded　on　two　sides　by　massive　stone　walls。　Only　the　dimmest　green　light　filtered　down。　Stone　stelae；　decorated　with　Mayan　glyphs；　dotted　the　grove　like　sentinels。
　Tom　heard　his　father's　ragged　breath　and　a　muffled　curse。
　〃I'm　sorry　that　it　hurts。〃
　〃Don't　worry　about　me。〃
　They　traveled　for　another　twenty　minutes　and　arrived　at　a　place　where　the　jungle　became　riotously　luxuriant　and　thick。　Creepers　and　climbing　vines　smothered　the　trees；　giving　them　the　appearance　of　huge；　muffled　green　ghosts。　At　the　top　of　each　suffocated　tree；　tendrils　of　vine　seeking　a　new　purchase　grew　straight　out；　like　spiky　hair。　Heavy　flowers　hung　everywhere。　Water　dripped　incessantly。
　Borabay　paused；　peering　around。　〃This　way；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　thickest　part。
　〃How？〃　Philip　said；　looking　at　the　impenetrable　wall　of　growth。
　Borabay　dropped　to　his　knees　and　crawled　ahead；　into　a　small　opening。　They　did　likewise；　Max　grunting　with　pain。　Tom　saw　that　hidden　under　the　matted　vines　was　a　network　of　animal　trails；　tunnels　going　every　which　way　through　the　vegetation。　They　crawled　into　the　thickest　of　it；　squeezing　through　the　tunnels　the　animals　had　made。　It　was　dark　and　rank。　They　crawled　for　what　seemed　like　an　eternity；　but　was　probably　no　more　than　twenty　minutes；　through　a　fantastical　maze　of　branching　and　rebranching　trails；　until　they　came　to　an　open　area；　a　cave　in　the　vegetation　underneath　a　vine…choked　tree　whose　lower　branches　created　a　tentlike　space；　impenetrable　on　all　sides。
　〃We　stay　here；〃　Borabay　said。　〃We　wait　until　night。〃
　Broadbent　sagged　back　against　the　tree　trunk　with　a　groan。　Tom　knelt　over　his　father；　stripped　off　the　blood…soaked　bandages；　and　examined　the　wound。　It　was　bad。　Borabay　knelt　next　to　him　and　carefully　examined　it　himself。　Then　he　took　some　leaves　he　had　plucked　from　somewhere　during　their　flight；　crushed　and　rubbed　them　between　his　palms；　and　made　two　poultices。
　〃What's　that　for？〃　Tom　whispered。
　〃It　stop　bleeding；　help　pain。〃
　They　packed　the　poultices　over　the　entrance　and　exit　wounds。　Vernon　volunteered　his　shirt；　and　Tom　tore　it　into　strips；　using　them　to　tie　the　poultices　into　place。
　〃Uff；〃　said　Broadbent。
　〃I'm　sorry；　Father。〃
　〃Quit　saying　you're　sorry；　all　of　you。　I　want　to　groan　without　having　to　listen　to　apologies。〃
　Philip　said；　〃Father；　you　saved　our　lives　back　there。〃
　〃Lives　that　I　put　into　danger　in　the　first　place。〃
　〃We'd　be　dead　if　you　hadn't　jumped　on　Hauser。〃
　〃The　sins　of　my　youth；　e　back　to　haunt　me。〃　He　winced。
　Borabay　squatted　on　his　heels　and　looked　around　at　all　of　them。　〃I　go　now。　I　e　back　in　half　hour。　If　I　no　e　back；　when　night　e　you　wait　till　rain　start　and　cross　bridge　without　me。　Okay？〃
　〃Where　are　you　going？〃　Vernon　asked。
　〃To　get　Hauser。〃
　He　sprang　up　and　was　gone。
　Tom　hesitated。　If　he　was　going　to　go　back　for　the　Codex；　it　was　now　or　never。
　〃There's　something　I　have　to　do；　too。〃
　〃What？〃　Philip　and　Vernon　looked　at　him　incredulously。
　Tom　shook　his　head。　He　couldn't　find　the　words　or　the　time　to　defend　his　decision。　Maybe　it　wasn't　even　defensible。　〃Don't　wait　for　me。　I'll　meet　up　with　you　at　the　bridge　tonight；　after　the　storm　hits。〃
　〃Tom；　have　you　gone　crazy？〃　Max　rumbled。
　Tom　didn't　answer。　He　turned　and　slipped　off　into　the　jungle。
　In　twenty　minutes　he　had　crawled　back　out　of　the　vine　maze。　He　stood　up　to　get　his　bearings。　The　necropolis　of　tombs　was　to　the　east：　That　much　he　knew。　This　close　to　the　equator　the　late　morning　sun　would　still　be　in　the　eastern　sky；　and　it　gave　him　a　general　direction。　He　didn't　want　to　think　about　the　decision　he　had　just　made：　whether　it　was　right　or　wrong　to　leave　his　father　and　brothers；　whether　it　was　crazy；　whether　it　was　too　dangerous。　It　was　all　beside　the　point：　Getting　the　Codex　was　something　he　just　had　to　do。
　He　went　east。
　
　74
　
　Hauser's　eyes　scanned　the　ground　ahead；　reading　it　like　a　book：　a　seedpod　pressed　into　the　earth；　a　creased　blade　of　grass；　dew　brushed　from　a　leaf。　He　had　learned　how　to　track　in　Vietnam；　and　now　every　detail　told　him　exactly　where　the　Broadbents　had　gone　as　clearly　as　if　they　had　left　a　trail　of　breadcrumbs。　He　followed　their　route　rapidly　but　methodically；　Steyr　AUG　at　the　ready。　He　felt　better　now；　relaxed；　if　not　at　peace。　Hauser　had　always　found　hunting　a　strangely　pelling　activity。　And　there　was　nothing　to　pare　with　the　feeling　of　hunting　the　human　animal。　It　was　indeed　the　most　dangerous　game。
　His　worthless　soldiers　were　still　digging　and　blasting　away　at　the　far　end　of　the　city。　Good。　It　would　keep　them　busy。　Tracking　and　killing　Broadbent　and　his　sons　was　a　job　for　a　lone　hunter　slipping　unseen　through　the　jungle；　not　for　a　noisy　group　of　inpetent　soldiers。　Hauser　had　the　advantage。　He　knew　the　Broadbents　were　unarmed；　and　he　knew　they　would　have　to　cross　the　bridge。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　he　caught　up　with　them。
　With　them　gone；　he　could　loot　the　tomb　at　his　leisure；　bring　out　the　Codex　and　the　portable　artworks；　leave　the　rest　for　later。　Now　that　he　had　softened　up　Skiba　he　was　pretty　sure　he　could　extract　more　than　fifty　million　from　him；　perhaps　a　lot　more。　Switzerland　would　be　a　good　base　to　operate　from。　That　was　how　Broadbent　himself　used　to　do　it；　launder　questionable　antiquities　through　Switzerland；　claiming　they　were　from　an　〃old　Swiss　collection。〃　The　masterworks　couldn't　be　sold　on　the　open　market…they　were　too　famous　and　Broadbent's　ownership　too　widely　known…but　they　could　be　quietly　placed　here　and　there。　There　was　always　some　Saudi　sheik　or　Japanese　industrialist　or　American　billionaire　who　wanted　to　own　a　beautiful　painting　and　who　wasn't　too　particular　where　it　came　from。
　Hauser　abandoned　these　pleasant　fantasies　and　turned　his　attention　back　to　the　ground。　More　dew　swiped　from　a　leaf；　a　spot　of　blood　on　the　soil。　He　followed　the　traces　into　a　ruined　gallery　and　turned　on　his　lamp。　Moss　scraped　from　a　stone；　an　imprint　in　the　soft　ground…any　idiot　could　follow　these　tracks。
　He　followed　the　signs　as　fast　as　he　could；　putting；　as　they　said；　as　much　pressure　on　the　trail　as　possible。　As　he　emerged　into　a　broad　forest；　he　saw　one　particularly　clear　trace；　where　they　had　stirred　up　some　rotten　leaves　in　their　headlong　flight。
　Too　clear。　He　froze；　listened；　and　then　crouched　and　minutely　examined　the　ground　ahead。　Amateurish。　The　Viet　Cong　would　laugh　at　this　one：　a　bent　sapling；　a　loop　of　vine　hidden　under　leaves；　an　almost　invisible　trip　wire。　He　took　one　careful　step　back；　picked　up　a　stick　lying　conveniently　nearby；　and　lobbed　it　at　the　trip　wire。
　There　was　a　snap；　the　sapling　shot　up；　the　loop　jerked。　And　then　Hauser　felt　a　sudden　breath　of　air　and　a　tug　on　his　pantleg。　He　looked　down。　Embedded　in　the　loose　crease　of　his　pant　was　a　small　dart；　its　fire…hardened　tip　dribbling　a　dark　liquid。
　The　poisoned　dart　had　missed　him　by　less　than　an　inch。
　For　several　minutes　he　remained　frozen。　He　examined　every　square　inch　of　ground　around　him；　every　tree；　every　limb。　Satisfied　there　was　no　other　trap；　he　leaned　over　and　was　about　to　pluck　the　dart　out　of　his　khakis　when　he　stopped　himself　yet　again…and　just　in　time。　The　sides　of　the　dart　had　imbedded　in　them　two　nearly　invisible　spines；　also　wet　with　poison；　ready　to　prick　the　finger　of　whoever　tried　to　grasp　it。
　He　took　a　twig　and　flicked　the　dart　off　his　pantleg。
　Very　clever。　Three　multilayered　traps　in　one。　Simple　and　effective。　This　was　the　Indian's　work；　no　doubt　about　it。
　Hauser　moved　forward；　a　little　more　slowly　now；　and　with　newfound　respect。
　
　75
　
　Tom　ran　through　the　forest；　speed　taking　precedence　over　silence；　swinging　wide　of　their　earlier　trail　to　avoid　running　into　Hauser。　His　path　took　him　through　a　maze　of　ruined　temples　buried　under　thick　mats　of　vines。　He　had　no　light；　and　sometimes　he　had　to　feel　his　way　down　dark　passageways　or　crawl　under　fallen　stones。
　He　soon　arrived　at　the　eastern　edge　of　the　plateau。　He　paused；　catching　his　breath；　and　then　crept　to　the　cliff　and　looked　down；　trying　to　orient　himself。　It　seemed　to　him　that　the　necropolis　should　lie　somewhere　to　the　south；