cyclops-第7部分

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　　　　〃Arrest　me　and　Reggie　Salazar　dies。　Expose　the　project　and　all　the　behind…the…scenes　double…dealing；　the　backstabbing；　the　fraud　and　the　lies；　and；　yes；　the　deaths　that　took　place　to　acplish　what　has　been　achieved；　will　be　laid　on　your　political　doorstep；　beginning　when　you　were　sworn　into　the　Senate。　You'll　get　bounced　out　of　the　White　House　under　a　bigger　cloud　than　Nixon；　providing；　of　course；　you　live　that　long。〃
　　　　〃You're　threatening　me　with　blackmail？〃　So　far　the　President　had　kept　his　anger　under　control　but　now　he　was　seething　with　fury。　〃Salazar's　life　would　be　a　small　price　to　pay　to　preserve　the　integrity　of　the　presidency。〃
　　　　〃Two　weeks；　then　you　can　announce　the　existence　of　the　Jersey　Colony　to　the　world。　With　trumpets　sounding　and　drums　beating　you　can　play　the　big　political　hero。　Two　weeks；　and　you　can　demonstrate　proof　of　this　century's　greatest　scientific　achievement。〃
　　　　〃After　all　this　time；　why　then？〃
　　　　〃Because　that's　when　we've　scheduled　the　original　crew　to　leave　Jersey　Colony　and　return　to　earth　with　the　accumulation　of　two　decades　of　space　research　reports　on　meteorological　and　lunar　probes；　the　scientific　results　on　thousands　of　biological；　chemical；　and　atmospheric　experiments；　uncountable　photographs　and　miles　of　video　records　of　the　first　human　establishment　of　a　planetary　civilization。　The　first　phase　of　the　project　is　pleted。　The　dream　of　the　‘inner　core'　is　finished。　Jersey　Colony　now　belongs　to　the　American　people。〃
　　　　The　President　toyed　with　his　putter　thoughtfully。　Then　he　asked；　〃Who　are　you？〃
　　　　〃Look　to　your　memory。　We　knew　each　other　many　years　ago。〃
　　　　〃How　am　I　to　contact　you？〃
　　　　〃I'll　arrange　another　meeting　when　I　feel　it's　required。〃　Joe　lifted　the　clubs　from　the　cart's　rack　and　began　walking　along　a　narrow　path　toward　the　clubhouse。　Then　he　stopped　and　came　back。
　　　　〃By　the　way；　I　lied。　That's　not　a　bomb；　but　a　present　from　the　‘inner　core'　a　new　box　of　golf　balls。〃
　　　　The　President　gazed　at　him　in　frustration。　〃Burn　in　hell；　Joe。〃
　　　　〃Oh；　and　one　more　thing。　。　。　congratulations。〃
　　　　〃Congratulations？〃
　　　　Joe　handed　him　the　scorecard。　〃I　kept　track　of　your　play。　You　hit　a　seventy…nine。〃




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　



　　　　The　sleek　hull　of　the　sailboard　skimmed　the　choppy　water　with　the　graceful　elegance　of　an　arrow　shot　through　mist。　Its　slick　and　delicately　curved　shape　was　as　visually　pleasing　to　the　eye　as　it　was　efficient　in　achieving　great　speed　over　the　waves。　Perhaps　the　simplest　of　all　sailing　systems；　the　board　was　built　with　a　polyethylene　shell　molded　over　an　inner　core　of　rigid　plastic　foam　to　give　it　lightness　and　flexibility。　A　small　skeg　or　fin　protruded　from　below　the　stern　for　lateral　control；　while　a　daggerboard　hung　down　near　the　middle　to　prevent　the　board　from　being　swept　sideways　by　the　wind。
　　　　A　triangular　sail；　dyed　purple　with　a　broad　turquoise　stripe；　clung　to　an　aluminum　mast　that　was　mounted　onto　the　board　by　a　universal　joint。　An　oval　tubular　wishbone　or　boom　circled　the　mast　and　sail；　and　was　tightly　gripped　by　long；　slender　hands　that　were　coarse　skinned　and　callused。
　　　　Dirk　Pitt　was　tired；　more　tired　than　his　dulled　mind　could　accept。　The　muscles　of　his　arms　and　legs　felt　as　though　they　were　sheathed　in　lead　and　the　ache　in　his　back　and　shoulders　grew　more　intense　with　each　maneuver　of　the　sailboard。　For　at　least　the　third　time　in　the　last　hour　he　fought　off　a　growing　urge　to　head　for　the　nearest　beach　and　stretch　out　in　the　sand。
　　　　Through　the　clear　window　of　the　sail　he　studied　the　orange　buoy　marking　the　final　windward　leg　of　the　thirty…mile　boardsailing　marathon　race　around　Biscayne　Bay　to　the　Cape　Florida　lighthouse　on　Key　Biscayne。　Carefully；　he　chose　his　position　to　arc　around　the　buoy。　Deciding　on　a　jibe；　the　most　graceful　maneuver　in　windsurfing；　he　threaded　his　way　through　the　heavy　traffic；　weighted　clown　the　stern　of　his　board；　and　aimed　the　bow　on　the　new　course。　Then；　gripping　the　mast　with　one　hand；　he　swung　the　rigging　to　windward；　shifted　his　feet；　and　released　the　boom　with　his　other　hand。　Next　he　pulled　the　fluttering　sail　against　the　wind　and　caught　the　boom　at　the　precise　moment。　Propelled　by　a　fresh　twenty…knot　breeze　from　the　north；　the　sailboard　sped　through　the　choppy　sea　and　soon　gained　a　speed　of　nearly　thirty　miles　an　hour。
　　　　Pitt　was　mildly　surprised　to　see　that　out　of　a　field　of　forty…one　racers；　most　of　them　at　least　fifteen　years　younger；　he　was　in　third　place；　only　twenty　yards　behind　the　leaders。
　　　　The　multicolored　sails　from　the　fleet　of　windsurfers　flashed　across　the　blue…green　water　like　a　prism　gone　mad。　The　finish　at　the　lighthouse　was　in　sight　now。　Pitt　closely　watched　the　boardsailer　ahead　of　him；　waiting　for　the　right　moment　to　attack。　But　before　he　attempted　to　pass；　his　opponent　miscalculated　a　wave　and　fell。　Now　Pitt　was　second；　with　only　half　a　mile　to　go。
　　　　Then；　ominously；　a　dark　shadow　in　a　cloudless　sky　passed　overhead　and　he　heard　the　exhaust　of　propeller…driven　aircraft　engines　above　and　slightly　to　his　left。　He　stared　upward　and　his　eyes　widened　in　disbelief。
　　　　No　more　than　a　hundred　yards　away；　shielding　the　sun　like　an　eclipse；　a　blimp　was　descending　from　the　sky；　her　great　bow　set　on　a　collision　course　with　the　sailboard　fleet。　She　appeared　to　be　drifting　out　of　control。　Her　two　engines　were　barely　turning　over　at　idle　speed；　but　she　was　swept　through　the　air　by　the　strong　breeze。　The　sailboarders　watched　helplessly　as　the　giant　intruder　crossed　their　path。
　　　　The　gondola　struck　the　crest　of　a　wave　and　the　blimp　bounced　back　into　the　air；　leveling　off　five　feet　above　the　water　in　front　of　the　lead　boardsailer。　Unable　to　turn　in　time；　the　young　boy；　no　more　than　seventeen；　dove　from　his　board　an　instant　before　his　mast　and　sail　were　minced　to　shreds　under　the　blimp's　starboard　propeller。
　　　　Pitt　nimbly　carved　a　sharp　tack　and　swung　on　a　parallel　course　with　the　rampaging　airship。　From　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　noted　the　name；　Prosperteer；　in　huge　red　letters　on　her　side。　The　gondola　door　was　open；　but　he　couldn't　make　out　any　movement　inside。　He　shouted；　but　his　voice　was　lost　in　the　exhaust　of　the　engines　and　rush　of　the　wind。　The　ungainly　craft　skidded　across　the　sea　as　though　it　had　a　mind　of　its　own。
　　　　Suddenly；　Pitt　felt　the　prickle　of　disaster　in　the　small　of　his　back。　The　Prosperteer　was　moving　toward　the　beach；　only　a　quarter　mile　away；　and　headed　directly　at　the　broad　terraced　side　of　the　Sonesta　Beach　Hotel。　Though　the　impact　of　a　lighter…than…air　ship　against　a　solid　structure　would　cause　little　damage；　there　was　the　ugly　certainty　of　fire　from　ruptured　fuel　tanks　spilling　into　the　rooms　of　dozing　guests　or　falling　onto　the　diners　on　the　patio　below。
　　　　Ignoring　the　numbing　drain　of　exhaustion；　Pitt　angled　his　sailboard　on　a　course　that　would　cross　under　the　great　rounded　nose。　The　gondola　danced　into　another　swell　and　a　spinning　propeller　whipped　a　cloud　of　salt　spray　into　his　eyes。　His　vision　blurred　momentarily　and　he　came　within　inches　of　losing　his　balance。　He　settled　in　a　squatting　stance　and　steadied　his　tiny　craft　as　he　narrowed　the　distance。　Crowds　of　sunbathers　gestured　excitedly　at　the　strange　sight　rapidly　approaching　the　hotel's　sloping　beach。
　　　　Pitt's　timing　would　have　to　be　near　perfect；　there　would　be　no　second　attempt。　If　he　missed；　there　was　every　chance　his　body　would　end　up　in　pieces　behind　the　propellers。　He　was　beginning　to　feel　lightheaded。　His　strength　was　nearly　sapped。　He　sensed　that　his　muscles　were　taking　longer　to　respond　to　the　demands　of　his　brain。　He　braced　himself　as　his　sailboard　streaked　under　the　blimp's　nose。
　　　　Then　he　leaped。
　　　　His　hands　grasped　one　of　the　Prosperteer's　bow　ropes　but　slipped　on　the　wet　surface；　scraping　the　skin　from　his　fingers　and　palms。　Desperately　he　swung　a　leg　around　the　line　and　held　on　with　every　scrap　of　energy　he　had　left。　His　weight　pulled　down　the　bow　and　he　was　dragged　under　the　surface。　He　clawed　up　the　rope　until　his　head　broke　free。　Then　he　was　gulping　air　and　spitting　out　seawater。　The　pursuer　had　bee　the　captive。
　　　　The　drag　from　Pitt's　body　wasn't　nearly　enough　to　stop　the　air　monster；　much　less　slow　its　momentum　from　the　wind。　He　was　about　to　release　his　precarious　hold　when　his　feet　touched　bottom。　The　blimp　carried　him　through　the　surge　of　the　surf　and　he　felt　like　he　was　riding　a　roller　coaster。　Then　he　was　hurtled　onto　the　warm　sands　of　the　beach。　He　looked　up　and　saw　the　low　seawall　of　the　hotel　looming　a　scant　hundred　feet　away。
　　　　My　God！　he　thought；　this　is　it　in　a　few　seconds　the　Prosperteer　would　crash　into　the　hotel　and　possibly　explode。　And　there　was　something　else。　The　whirling　propellers　would　shatter　on　impact；　their　metal　fragments　spraying　the　awestruck　crowds　with　a　force　as　deadly　as　shrapnel。
　　　　〃For　God's　sake；　help　me！〃　Pitt　shouted。
　　　　The　mass　of　people　on　the　beach　stood　frozen；　their　mouths　gaping；　held　stupefied　in　childlike　fascination　by　the　strange　spectacle。　Suddenly　two　teenage　girls　and　a　boy　sprang　forward　and　grabbed　one　of　the　other　tow　ropes。　Next　came　a　lifeguard；　followed　by　an　elderly　heavyset　woman。　Then　the　dam　broke　and　twenty　onlookers　surged　forward　and　gathered　in　the　trailing　lines。　It　was　as　though　a　tribe　of　half…naked　natives　had　challenged　a　maddened　brontosaurus　to　a　tug…of…war。
　　　　Bare　feet　dug　into　the　sand；　plowing　furrows　as　the　stubborn　mass　above　their　heads　tugged　them　across　the　beach。　The　drag　on　the　bow　lines　caused　the　hull　to　pivot；　and　the　huge　finned　tail　swung　around　in　a　180…degree　arc　until　it　was　pointing　at　the　hotel；　the　wheel　on　the　bottom　of　the　gondola　scraping　through　the　bushes　growing　from　the　top　of　the　seawall；　the　propellers　missing　the　concrete　by　inches　and　chopping　through　the　branches　and　leaves。
　　　　A　strong　gust　of　wind　blew　in　from　the　sea；　shoving　the　Prosperteer　over　the　patio；　smashing　umbrellas　and　tables；　driving　her　stern　toward　the　fifth　story　of　the　hotel。　Lines　were　torn　from　hands　and　a　wave　of　helplessness　swept　over　the　beach。　The　battle　seemed　lost。
　　　　Pitt　struggled　to　his　feet　and　half　ran；　half　staggered　to　a　nearby　palm　tree。　In　a　final　desperate　act　he　coiled　his　line　around　the　slender　trunk；　feverishly　praying　it　wo