rm.thenightboat-第14部分

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knew　Turk　was　a　rootless；　undisciplined　type　of　man。
　　〃What　happened　to　Kephas　was　an　accident；〃　Kip　said。
　　The　young　man　had　a　tough　face；　thick　eyebrows；　a　black　goatee。　〃I　saw　the　body　this　mornin'。　Bad　way　to　die。〃　He　exhaled　smoke　through　flared　nostrils。　〃Why　you　put　that　thing　in　here；　to　hide　it？〃
　　〃Go　on　about　your　business；　mon；〃　Lenny　cautioned　him。
　　Turk　ignored　him。　〃I　hear　some　things　'bout　that　fucker。　I　hear　it's　a　Nazi　sub。〃
　　Kip　nodded。
　　〃How　'bout　that；　huh？　Goddam　bitch　jus'　corked　off　the　bottom；　ain't　that　so？　I　never　heard　of　that　happenin'　before。　What's　inside　her？〃
　　〃A　few　tons　of　corroded　iron；　twisted　bulkheads；　maybe　a　couple　of　live　torpedoes。〃　Kip　said。　And　what　else？　he　wondered　suddenly。　What　had　Moore　mentioned　about　the　sealed　hatches？
　　〃Why　don't　you　open　it　up　and　have　a　see？〃　Turk　raised　an　eyebrow。
　　〃Too　dangerous。　And　I'm　not　that　curious。〃
　　Turk　nodded；　smiling　thinly。　He　turned　and　stared　at　the　boat　for　a　moment；　then　took　the　cigar　stub　out　of　his　mouth　and　flicked　it。　It　hit　iron；　falling　in　a　shower　of　sparks　into　the　placid　water。　〃Off　the　Caymans　couple　or　three　years　ago；〃　he　said；　〃somebody　found　a　German　gunboat　sunk　in　about　a　hundred　feet。　They　used　an　underwater　torch　to　get　through　a　few　collapsed　bulkheads；　and　they　burned　into　a　vault。　You　know　what　that　fucker　yielded？〃　He　looked　from　one　man　to　the　other。　〃Gold　bars。　Made　those　fellas　rich。　Fuckin'　rich。〃
　　〃Gold　bars？〃　Lenny　asked。
　　〃That's　bullshit。〃　Kip　interrupted　quickly。　〃And　if　you　think　this　beat…up　crate's　carrying　gold　bars　you're　out　of　your　mind。〃
　　Turk　shrugged。　〃Maybe　not　gold。　But　maybe　somethin'　else。　Those　goddamn　Nazis　carried　all　manner　of　stuff　with　'em。　You　never　know　'til　you　look。〃
　　〃The　only　thing　in　there　is　a　lot　of　old　machinery；〃　Kip　told　him。
　　〃Maybe　so；　maybe　not。〃　Turk　smiled　again；　his　eyes　still　blank。
　　Kip　recognized　that　hungry　look。　〃Now　you　hear　me。　If　you're　thinking　about　doing　a　bit　of　free…lance　torching；　forget　it。　Like　I　say；　you　spark　some　explosives　and　you'll　be　picking　gold　bars　off　the　streets　of　Heaven。〃
　　The　other　man　held　up　his　hands　defensively。　〃I'm　talkin'；　that's　all。〃　He　smiled　again　and　walked　past　the　constable　toward　the　battered　frame　door　set　into　one　wall。　He　opened　the　door；　admitting　a　shaft　of　blinding　sunlight；　and　was　gone。
　　〃He　got　no　respect　for　elders；〃　Lenny　said。　〃He's　trouble；　but　he　damn　good　at　what　he　does。〃
　　〃So　I　hear。〃　Kip　gazed　at　the　U…boat　for　a　few　more　seconds；　feeling　a　chill　creep　up　his　back。　He　could　hear　the　sounds　of　it　settling；　creaking　timbers；　water　sloshing　around；　the　groan　of　a　deep　metal　bulkhead…eerie；　distant　voices。　〃Lenny；〃　he　said；　〃keep　the　workmen　away　from　here；　will　you？　I　don't　want　anybody　fooling　around　with　this　thing；　and　what　I　said　about　explosives　maybe　being　on　board　is　true。〃
　　〃Okay；〃　Lenny　agreed；　nodding。　〃I　do　what　you　say。〃　He　raised　his　voice　and　called　to　the　rest　of　the　men；　〃She　down　now；　let's　get　on　with　our　business！　J。R。；　you　and　Murphy　got　a　hull…scrapin'　to　finish　up！　Percy；　you　done　paintin'？　e　on；　let's　get　back！〃
　　Kip　clapped　the　man　on　the　shoulder　and　made　his　way　out。　But　even　in　the　fierce　sun；　his　eyes　aching　from　the　glare；　he　saw　the　image　of　a　dark　form　standing　on　that　conning　tower；　as　silent　and　motionless　as　Death　itself。　Keep　it　up；　he　told　himself；　starting　the　jeep's　engine。　You'll　be　seeing　jumbies　in　your　soup。　He　drove　out　of　the　boatyard；　heading　for　the　fishermen's　shanties。　Like　it　or　not；　he　had　to　pay　a　call　on　the　Kephas　woman。　There　was　work　to　be　done；　and　a　sorry　task　it　was　indeed。
　　But　before　his　jeep　had　made　a　hundred　yards　more　he　felt　that　chill　again；　like　a　premonition。　He　had　a　wall　inside　him；　cutting　him　in　half；　blocking　off　a　dark　place　where　he　feared　to　look。
　　That　boat　had　been　built　to　destroy；　it　had　been　baptized　in　blood　and　fury；　and　God　only　knew　how　many　ships　and　good　men　had　gone　down　in　the　wake　of　its　torpedoes　and　guns。　Boniface's　words　haunted　him：　Take　it　out　of　the　harbor。　Sink　it。　Sink　it。　Sink　it。
　　〃How；　by　God？〃　he　said　aloud。
　　Abruptly　the　bright　colors　of　Coquina　village　came　up　around　him；　and　his　mind　had　just　begun　to　wonder　how　he　could　soothe　the　Kephas　woman　when　he　felt　the　first　slow　scrape　of　jagged　nails　across　the　wall　inside　his　soul。
　　　
　　　Seven
　　
　　HE　PAUSED　IN　the　darkness；　took　from　a　back　pocket　a　flask　and　uncapped　it；　tilted　it　to　his　lips；　and　let　the　good　strong　Blackjack　rum　flow　down。　Then　he　wiped　his　mouth　on　his　sleeve；　returned　the　flask　to　the　pocket；　and　continued　walking　the　road。
　　The　darkness　was　absolute；　the　midnight　breezes　thick。　They　clung　around　him。　No　lights　burning　in　the　village。　Everyone　asleep。　No；　no…there　was　a　light　burning　up　at　the　Indigo　Inn。　A　single　square　of　light　in　an　upstairs　window。　He　didn't　know　the　white　man；　but　he'd　seen　him　around　the　village　before。　It　was　the　white　man　found　the　submarine。
　　The　jungle　grew　wild　just　beyond　the　road；　cicadas　were　singing　like　sawblades　in　the　trees；　and　every　now　and　then　a　bird　skreeled。　It　was　just　enough　noise　to　unnerve　him。　Out　at　sea　there　was　only　the　blackness；　he　could　hear　the　surf　on　the　coral　and　he　knew　the　beach　was　near；　but　he　couldn't　see　it。
　　He'd　gone　back　to　the　naval　shelter　three　more　times　that　day　to　look　at　the　U…boat；　to　think　about　what　might　be　waiting　for　him　inside。　The　gold　bars　found　in　Cayman　waters　had　flamed　his　greed。　Of　course；　he　didn't　know　if　the　stories　were　true　or　not…he'd　heard　them　from　a　rum…rag　in　a　bar…but　if　it　was　true！　It　was。　It　had　to　be　true。　He　quickened　his　pace。　The　boatyard　was　around　the　next　curve　in　the　road；　and　he　had　hard　work　to　do。
　　Something　about　that　vessel　had　eaten　into　Turk；　there　was　a　strangeness　to　it；　he　had　a　weird　feeling　about　it。　He'd　spent　all　day　thinking　about　it；　wondering　what　treasures　it　could　be　hiding。　Maybe　that　damned　policeman　knew　more　than　he　was　saying；　too。　Why　else　would　he　have　wanted　to　put　it　away　inside　that　shelter？　Why　not　just　let　it　rot　in　the　harbor？　No；　somethin'　was　real　strange。　The　policeman　was　hidin'　somethin'。　And　nobody　had　ever　hid　any　secrets　from　Turk　Pierce。
　　The　whitewashed　wooden　gates　to　the　boatyard　entrance　were　straight　ahead。　It　would　be　easy　to　either　slip　under　them　or　climb　over。　Hell；　who　was　going　to　know？　He　had　almost　reached　them　when　a　shadow　detached　itself　from　the　other　jungle　shadows　and　stepped　out　into　the　road。
　　Turk　stopped；　frozen；　his　mouth　half…open。
　　In　the　darkness　the　apparition　was　huge；　a　hulking　form　with　wide　bare　shoulders；　its　chest　covered　by　the　thinnest　cotton　shirt。　He　took　a　step　back　before　he　realized　it　was　real…it　was　a　man。　He　was　bald…headed；　his　flesh　a　tawny　color　instead　of　pure　ebony；　he　had　a　white　beard　and　mustache；　cropped　close　to　his　shadow…covered　face；　and　Turk　caught　the　sudden　gleam　of　a　small　gold　ring　hanging　from　one　earlobe。　The　man　was　carrying　a　crate　of　some　kind；　and　Turk　could　see　the　muscles　defined　on　his　forearms。　The　figure　stood　perfectly　still；　watching。
　　〃Hey；　you　scared　the　fuck　out　of　me；〃　Turk　said　easily；　trying　to　control　his　voice。　Christ！　He　didn't　want　any　trouble；　especially　not　with　a　bastard　as　big　as　this。　〃Who　are　you？〃
　　The　man　said　nothing。
　　Turk　stepped　forward；　trying　to　see　the　face；　but　the　figure　had　vanished；　swallowed　up　by　the　foliage。　A　knot　had　caught　in　Turk's　throat；　he　thought　he'd　seen　one　side　of　the　face；　and　it　had　been　a　hideous　mass　of　scars。　He　stood　still　for　a　long　time；　then　took　his　flashlight　from　his　belt　and　shined　it　into　the　jungle；　cautiously。　Nothing　there。　If　the　man　was　still　around；　he　was　moving　silently。　Turk　shivered；　fighting　off　a　cold　wave　of　nameless　fears。　What　was　that　thing；　a　damn　jumbie　walking　the　road　maybe　hunting　a　soul？　Something　lookin'　for　a　little　child　to　suck　the　blood　out　of？
　　He　kept　the　light　on；　moving　it　from　side　to　side　before　him。　When　he　reached　the　gates；　he　saw　there　was　enough　room　for　him　to　slide　beneath　them　on　his　belly。　Crossing　the　yard；　moving　through　discarded　piles　of　machinery；　empty　oil　barrels；　around　beached　boat　hulks；　he　saw　the　naval　shelter。　He　paused　for　a　moment；　standing　against　a　mountain　of　cable；　and　switched　off　his　light。　He'd　heard　a　noise；　like　the　sound　of　someone　walking　along　wharf　planking。　A　goddamn　night　watchman？　There　was　the　noise　again；　and　then　Turk　realized　it　was　just　the　breeze；　slapping　the　weathered　boatyard　sign　against　its　support　posts。　He　could　hear　the　sound　of　the　clangers　in　the　far　distance；　and　the　bass　rumble　of　breaking　waves。　Turk　snapped　his　light　on　again；　still　uneasy　from　his　encounter　with　that　figure　on　the　road；　and　approached　the　shelter。　Cochran　hadn't　put　a　chain　or　padlock　on　the　door；　thank　God；　it　was　closed；　a　few　crates　blocking　it。　A　handpainted　sign　read：　Keep　out。　Cochran。
　　Turk　pulled　the　crates　away；　scowling　when　he　found　they'd　been　filled　with　heavy　odds…and…ends…bolts　and　broken　tools。　He　opened　the　door；　shined　the　light　around　inside；　then　entered。　It　smelled　like　a　burial　vault　and　the　stench　was　almost　overpowering；　but　he　swallowed　and　tried　to　keep　his　mind　off　it。　Light　reflected　off　the　water　and　rippled　across　the　walls；　undulating　beneath　the　thing's　hull。　Strange　shadows　moved　away　from　the　beam　of　light；　like　phantoms　scurrying　for　the　safety　of　darkness。　He　worked　the　light　over　the　conning　tower；　up　to　the　tops　of　the　shafts；　and　then　back　along　the　superstructure。　You　ain't　so　much　hell　now；　are　you？　he　asked　the　thing。　Something　clattered　sharply　behind　him；　and　Turk　sucked　in　his　breath；　he　flashed　the　light　into　a　corner；　his　heart　hammering。　It　was　only　a　rat；　panicked　by　the　unfamiliar　light；　squeezing　among　a　clutter　of　oil　cans　and　rag　scraps。
　　There　was　a　gangplank　between　the　concrete　walkway　and　the　U…boat's　deck；　and　Turk　crossed　it；　careful　of　his　footing。　He　had　already　climbed　to　the　bridge　and　examined　the　main　hatch　there　during　the　day；　water　and　sand　more　than　an　inch　deep　still　swirled　over　it。　There　was　another　hatch　on　the　aft　deck；　covered　with　the　tendrils　of　cables；　and　he　couldn't　work　them　away　a