p&c.icelimit-第7部分

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　Mostly　drug　money。〃
　〃Maybe　you　should　have　let　it　burn；　like　Sodom　and　Gomorrah。〃
　〃We're　an　engineering　firm；　not　God。　We　don't　concern　ourselves　with　the　moral　status　of　paying　clients。〃
　McFarlane　laughed；　feeling　himself　relax　a　little。　〃So　how'd　you　stop　it？〃
　〃We　blocked　those　two　valleys；　there；　with　landslides。　Then　we　punched　a　hole　in　the　volcano　with　high　explosives　and　blasted　an　overflow　channel　on　the　far　side。　We　used　a　significant　portion　of　the　world's　nonmilitary　supply　of　Semtex　in　the　process。　All　the　lava　went　into　the　sea；　creating　almost　a　thousand　acres　of　new　real　estate　for　our　client　in　the　process。　That　didn't　quite　pay　our　fee；　of　course。　But　it　helped。〃
　Garza　moved　on。　They　passed　a　series　of　tables　covered　with　bits　of　fuselage　and　burnt　electronics。　〃Jet　crash；〃　said　Garza；　〃terrorist　bomb。〃　He　dismissed　it　with　a　quick　wave　of　his　hand。
　Reaching　the　far　side　of　the　room；　Garza　opened　a　small　white　door　and　led　McFarlane　down　a　series　of　sterile　corridors。　McFarlane　could　hear　the　hush　of　air　scrubbers；　the　clatter　of　keys；　a　strange；　regular　thudding　sound　from　far　below　his　feet。
　Then　Garza　opened　another　door　and　McFarlane　stopped　short　in　surprise。　The　space　ahead　of　him　was　vast　at　least　six　stories　tall　and　two　hundred　feet　deep。　Around　the　edges　of　the　room　was　a　forest　of　high…tech　equipment：　banks　of　digital　cameras；　category…5　cabling；　huge　〃green　screens〃　for　visual　effects　backdrops。　Along　one　wall　sat　half　a　dozen　Lincoln　convertibles　of　early　sixties　vintage；　long　and　slabsided。　Inside　each　car　sat　four　carefully　dressed　dummies；　two　in　the　front　and　two　in　the　rear。
　The　center　of　the　enormous　space　was　taken　up　by　a　model　of　a　city　intersection；　plete　down　to　working　stoplights。　Building　facades　of　various　heights　rose　on　either　side。　A　groove　ran　down　the　asphalted　road；　and　a　pulley　system　within　it　was　fixed　to　the　front　bumper　of　yet　another　Lincoln；　its　four　dummies　in　careful　place。　An　undulating　greensward　of　sculpted　AstroTurf　lined　the　roadway。　The　roadway　ended　in　an　overpass；　and　there　stood　Eli　Glinn　himself；　bullhorn　in　one　hand。
　McFarlane　stepped　forward　in　Garza's　wake；　halting　at　last　on　the　pavement　in　the　artificial　shade　of　some　plastic　bushes。　Something　about　the　scene　looked　strangely　familiar。
　On　the　overpass；　Glinn　raised　the　bullhorn。　〃Thirty　seconds；〃　he　called　out。
　〃Syncing　to　digital　feed；〃　came　a　disembodied　voice。　〃Sound　off。〃
　There　was　a　flurry　of　responses。　〃Green　across　the　board；〃　the　voice　said。
　〃Everyone　clear；〃　said　Glinn。　〃Power　up　and　let's　go。〃　Activity　seemed　to　e　from　everywhere。　There　was　a　hum　and　the　pulley　system　moved　forward；　pulling　the　limo　along　the　direction　of　the　groove。　Technicians　stood　behind　the　digital　cameras；　recording　the　progress。
　There　was　the　crack　of　an　explosion　nearby；　then　two　more　in　quick　succession。　McFarlane　ducked　instinctively；　recognizing　the　sound　as　gunfire。　Nobody　else　seemed　alarmed；　and　he　looked　in　the　direction　of　the　noise。　It　seemed　to　have　e　from　some　bushes　to　his　right。　Peering　closely　into　the　foliage；　he　could　make　out　two　large　rifles；　mounted　on　steel　pedestals。　Their　stocks　had　been　sawn　off；　and　leads　ran　from　the　triggers。
　Suddenly；　he　knew　where　he　was。　〃Dealey　Plaza；〃　he　murmured。
　Garza　smiled。
　McFarlane　stepped　onto　the　AstroTurf　and　peered　closer　at　the　two　rifles。　Following　the　direction　of　their　barrels；　he　noticed　that　the　rear　right　dummy　was　leaning　to　one　side；　its　head　shattered。
　Glinn　approached　the　side　of　the　car；　inspected　the　dummies；　then　murmured　to　someone　beside　him；　pointing　out　bullet　trajectories。　As　he　stepped　away　and　came　toward　McFarlane；　the　technicians　crowded　forward；　taking　pictures　and　jotting　down　data。
　〃Wele　to　my　museum；　Dr。　McFarlane；〃　he　said；　shaking　his　hand。　〃I'll　thank　you　to　step　off　our　grassy　knoll；　however。　That　rifle　still　holds　several　live　rounds。〃　He　turned　toward　Garza。　〃It's　a　perfect　match。　We've　cracked　this　one。　No　need　for　additional　run…throughs。〃
　〃So　this　is　the　project　you're　just　wrapping　up？〃　McFarlane　asked。
　Glinn　nodded。　〃Some　new　evidence　turned　up　recently　that　needed　further　analysis。〃
　〃And　what　have　you　found？〃
　Glinn　gave　him　a　cool　glance。　〃Perhaps　you'll　read　about　it　in　the　New　York　Times　someday；　Dr。　McFarlane。　But　I　doubt　it。　For　now；　let　me　just　say　that　I　have　a　greater　respect　for　conspiracy　theorists　than　I　did　a　month　ago。〃
　〃Very　interesting。　This　must've　cost　a　fortune。　Who　paid　for　it？〃
　There　was　a　conspicuous　silence。
　〃What　does　this　have　to　do　with　engineering？〃　McFarlane　finally　asked。
　〃Everything。　EES　was　a　pioneer　in　the　science　of　failure　analysis；　and　half　our　work　is　still　in　that　area。　Understanding　how　things　fail　is　the　most　important　ponent　in　solving　engineering　problems。〃
　〃But　this。。。　？〃　McFarlane　jerked　his　hand　in　the　direction　of　the　re…created　plaza。
　Glinn　smiled　elusively。　〃Assassination　of　a　president　is　a　rather　major　failure；　don't　you　think？　Not　to　mention　the　botched　investigation　that　followed。　Besides；　our　work　in　analyzing　failures　such　as　this　helps　us　maintain　our　perfect　engineering　record。〃
　〃Perfect？〃
　〃That's　right。　EES　has　never　failed。　Never。　It　is　our　trademark。〃　He　gestured　to　Garza；　and　they　moved　back　toward　the　doorway。　〃It's　not　enough　to　figure　out　how　to　do　something。　You　must　also　analyze　every　possible　path　to　failure。　Only　then　can　you　be　certain　of　success。　That　is　why　we　have　never　failed。　We　do　not　sign　a　contract　until　we　know　we　can　succeed。　And　then　we　guarantee　success。　There　are　no　disclaimers　in　our　contracts。〃
　〃Is　that　why　you　haven't　signed　the　Lloyd　Museum　contract　yet？〃
　〃Yes。　And　it's　why　you're　here　today。〃　Glinn　removed　a　heavy；　beautifully　engraved　gold　watch　from　his　pocket；　checked　the　time；　and　slid　it　back。　Then　he　turned　the　door　handle　briskly　and　stepped　through。　〃e　on。　The　others　are　waiting。〃
　
　EES　Headquarters；
　1：00　P。M。
　
　A　SHORT　ASCENT　in　an　industrial　elevator；　a　mazelike　journey　through　white　hallways；　and　McFarlane　found　himself　ushered　into　a　conference　room。　Low…ceilinged　and　austerely　furnished；　it　was　as　understated　as　Palmer　Lloyd's　had　been　lavish。　There　were　no　windows；　no　prints　on　the　walls　…　only　a　circular　table　made　out　of　an　exotic　wood；　and　a　darkened　screen　at　the　far　end　of　the　room。
　Two　people　were　seated　at　the　table；　staring　at　him；　evaluating　him　with　their　eyes。　The　closest　was　a　black…haired　young　woman；　dressed　in　Farmer　Brown…style　bib　overalls。　She　was　not　exactly　pretty；　but　her　brown　eyes　were　quick　and　had　glimmers　of　gold　in　their　depths。　They　lingered　over　him　in　a　sardonic　way　that　McFarlane　found　unsettling。　She　was　of　average　size；　slender；　unremarkable；　with　a　healthy　tan　browning　her　cheekbones　and　nose。　She　had　very　long　hands　with　longer　fingers；　currently　busy　cracking　a　peanut　into　a　large　ashtray　on　the　table　in　front　of　her。　She　looked　like　an　overgrown　tomboy。
　The　man　beyond　her　was　dressed　in　a　white　lab　coat。　He　was　blade　thin；　with　a　badly　razor…burned　face。　One　eyelid　seemed　to　droop　slightly；　giving　the　eye　a　jocular　look；　as　if　it　was　about　to　wink。　But　there　was　nothing　jocular　about　the　rest　of　the　man：　he　looked　humorless；　pinched；　as　tense　as　catgut。　He　fidgeted　restlessly　with　a　mechanical　pencil；　turning　it　over　and　over。
　Glinn　nodded。　〃This　is　Eugene　Rochefort；　manager　of　engineering。　He　specializes　in　one…of…a…kind　engineering　designs。〃
　Rochefort　accepted　the　pliment　with　a　purse　of　his　lips；　the　pressure　briefly　turning　them　white。
　〃And　this　is　Dr。　Rachel　Amira。　She　started　out　as　a　physicist　with　us；　but　we　soon　began　to　exploit　her　rare　gifts　as　a　mathematician。　If　you　have　a　problem；　she　will　give　you　an　equation。　Rachel；　Gene；　please　wele　Dr。　Sam　McFarlane。　Meteorite　hunter。〃
　They　nodded　in　reply。　McFarlane　felt　their　eyes　on　him　as　he　busied　himself　with　opening　the　portfolio　case　and　distributing　folders。　He　felt　the　tension　return。
　Glinn　accepted　his　folder。　〃I'd　like　to　go　over　the　general　outline　of　the　problem；　and　then　open　the　floor　for　discussion。〃
　〃Sure　thing；〃　said　McFarlane；　settling　into　a　chair。
　Glinn　glanced　around；　his　gray　eyes　unreadable。　Then　he　withdrew　a　sheaf　of　notes　from　inside　his　jacket。　〃First；　some　general　information。　The　target　area　is　a　small　island；　known　as　Isla　Desolacion；　off　the　southern　tip　of　South　America　in　the　Cape　Horn　islands。　It　lies　in　Chilean　national　territory。　It　is　about　eight　miles　long　and　three　miles　wide。〃
　He　paused　and　looked　around。
　〃Our　client；　Palmer　Lloyd；　insists　upon　moving　ahead　with　the　utmost　possible　speed。　He　is　concerned　about　possible　petition　from　other　museums。　That　means　working　in　the　depths　of　the　South　American　winter。　In　the　Cape　Horn　islands；　temperatures　in　July　range　from　above　freezing　to　as　much　as　thirty　below　zero；　Fahrenheit。　Cape　Horn　is　the　southernmost　major　landmass　outside　of　Antarctica　itself；　more　than　a　thousand　miles　closer　to　the　South　Pole　than　Africa's　Cape　of　Good　Hope。　During　the　target　month；　we　can　expect　five　hours　of　daylight。
　〃Isle　Desolacion　is　not　a　hospitable　place。　It　is　barren；　windswept；　mostly　volcanic　with　some　Tertiary　sedimentary　basins。　The　island　is　bisected　by　a　large　snowfield；　and　there　is　an　old　volcanic　plug　toward　the　north　end。　The　tides　range　from　thirty　to　thirty…five　vertical　feet；　and　a　reversing　sixknot　current　sweeps　the　island　group。〃
　〃Lovely　conditions　for　a　picnic；〃　Garza　muttered。
　〃The　closest　human　settlement　is　on　Navarino　Island；　in　the　Beagle　Channel；　about　forty　miles　north　of　the　Cape　Horn　islands。　It　is　a　Chilean　naval　base　called　Puerto　Williams；　with　a　small　mestizo　Indian　shantytown　attached　to　it。〃
　〃Puerto　Williams？〃　Garza　said。　〃I　thought　this　was　Chile　we　were　talking　about。〃
　〃The　entire　area　was　originally　mapped　by　Englishmen。〃　Glinn　placed　the　notes　on　the　table。　〃Dr。　McFarlane；　I　understand　you've　been　in　Chile。〃
　McFarlane　nodded。
　〃What　can　you　tell　us　about　their　navy？〃
　〃Charming　fellows。〃
　There　was　a　silence。　Rochefort；　the　engineer；　began　tapping　his　pencil　on　the　table　in　an　irritated　tattoo。　The　door　opened；　and　a　waiter　began　serving　sandwiches　and　coffee。
　〃They　belligerentl