cussler.blueandgold-第13部分

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d　the　sailors；　fishermen；　and　auto　racers　who　knew　Ensenada　when　it　was　the　last　outpost　of　civilization　on　the　eight…hundred…mile…long　Baja　peninsula　before　La　Paz。　Hussong's　was　one　of　those　legendary　bars；　like　Foxy's　in　the　Virgin　Islands　or　Capt'n　Tony's　in　Key　West；　where　every　body　in　the　world　had　been。　As　they　stepped　inside　Austin　was　heartened　to　see　a　few　scruffy　barflies　who　might　remember　the　good　old　days　when　tequila　flowed　like　a　river　and　the　police　ran　a　shuttle　service　back　and　forth　between　the　cantina　and　the　local　hoosegow。　
　
　　They　sat　at　a　table　and　ordered　huevos　rancheros。　〃Ah；　pure　soul　food；〃　Zavala　said；　savoring　a　bite　of　scrambled　eggs　and　salsa。　Austin　had　been　studying　the　sad　expression　on　the　moose　head　that　had　been　over　the　bar　for　as　long　as　he　could　recall。　Still　wondering　how　a　moose　got　to　Mexico；　he　turned　his　attention　back　to　the　map　of　the　Baja　that　was　spread　out　on　the　table　in　front　of　him　next　to　the　satellite　photo　showing　water　temperature。
　
　〃This　is　where　we're　going；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　map。　〃The　temperature　anomaly　is　in　the　vicinity　of　this　cove。〃
　
　Zavala　finished　his　meal　with　a　smile　of　pleasure　and　opened　a　Baedecker's　guide　to　Mexico。　〃It　says　here　that　the　ballena　gris　or　gray　whale　arrives　off　the　Baja　from　December　to　March　to　mate　and　give　birth　to　its　young。　The　whales　weigh　up　to　twenty…five　tons　and　run　between　ten　and　forty…nine　feet　long。　During　mating；　one　male　will　keep　the　female　in　position　while　another　male…〃　He　winced。　〃Think　I'll　skip　that　part。　The　gray　was　almost　exterminated　by　mercial　whaling　but　was　made　a　protected　species　in　1947。〃　He　paused　in　his　reading。　〃Let　me　ask　you　something。　I　know　you've　got　a　lot　of　respect　for　any　thing　that　swims　in　the　sea；　but　I've　never　thought　of　you　as　a　whale　hugger。　Why　the　big　interest？　Why　not　leave　this　up　to　the　EPA　or　Fish　and　Wildlife？〃
　
　〃Fair　question。　I　could　say　I　want　to　find　out　what　started　the　chain　of　events　that　ended　up　with　the　sinking　of　Pop's　boat。　But　there's　another　reason　that　I　can't　put　my　finger　on。〃　A　thoughtful　expression　came　into　Austin's　eyes。　〃It　reminds　me　of　some　scary　dives　I've　made。　You　know　the　kind。　You're　swimming　along；　everything　seemingly　fine；　when　the　hair　rises　on　the　back　of　your　neck；　your　gut　goes　ice…cold；　and　you've　got　a　bad　feeling　you're　not　alone；　that　something　is　watching　you。　Something　hung7y。　〃
　
　〃Sure；〃　Zavala　said　contemplatively。　〃But　it　usually　goes　be　yond　that。　I　imagine　that　the　biggest；　baddest；　hungriest　shark　in　the　ocean　is　behind　me；　and　he's　thinking　how　it's　been　a　long　time　since　he's　had　authentic　Mexican　food。〃　He　took　another　bite　of　his　huevos。　〃But　when　I　look　around　there's　nothing　there；　or　maybe　there's　a　minnow　the　size　of　my　finger　who's　been　giving　me　the　evil　eye。〃
　
　〃The　sea　is　wrapped　in　mystery；〃　Austin　said　with　a　faraway　look　in　his　eyes。
　
　〃Is　that　a　riddle？〃
　
　〃In　a　way。　It's　a　quote　from　Joseph　Conrad。　'The　sea　never　changes　and　its　works；　for　all　the　talk　of　men；　are　wrapped　in　mystery。'〃　Austin　tapped　the　map　with　his　fingertip。　〃Whales　die　every　day。　We　lose　some　to　natural　causes。　Others　get　tangled　in　fishing　nets　and　starve　to　death；　or　they　get　nailed　by　a　ship；　or　we　poison　them　with　pollution　because　some　people　think　it's　okay　to　use　the　sea　for　a　toxic　waste　dump。〃　He　paused。　〃But　this　doesn't　fit　any　of　those　categories。　Even　with　out　interference　from　humans；　nature　is　always　out　of　kilter；　constantly　adjusting　and　readjusting。　But　it's　not　a　cacophony。　It's　like　the　improvisation　you　see　with　a　good　jazz　group；　Ahmad　Jamal　doing　a　piano　solo；　going　off　on　his　own；　catching　up　with　his　rhythm　section　later。〃　He　let　out　a　deep　laugh。　〃Hell；　I'm　not　making　sense。〃
　
　〃Don't　forget　I've　seen　your　jazz　collection；　Kurt。　You're　saying　there's　a　sour　note　here。〃
　
　〃More　a　universal　dissonance。〃　He　thought　about　it　some　more。　〃I　like　your　analogy　better。　I've　got　the　feeling　that　there's　a　big　bad…ass　shark　lurking　just　out　of　sight　and　it's　hungry　as　hell。〃
　
　Zavala　pushed　his　empty　plate　away。　〃As　they　say　back　home；　the　best　time　to　fish　is　when　the　fish　are　hungry。〃
　
　〃I　happen　to　know　you　grew　up　in　the　desert；　amigo；〃　Austin　said；　rising。　〃But　I　agree　with　what　you're　saying。　Let's　go　fishing。〃
　
　From　Ensenada　they　got　back　on　the　highway　and　headed　south。　As　in　Tijuana；　the　mercial　sprawl　thinned　out　and　vanished　and　the　highway　went　down　to　two　lanes。　They　turned　off　the　highway　past　Maneadero　and　followed　back　roads　past　agricultural　fields；　scattered　farm　houses；　and　old　missions；　eventually　ing　into　rugged；　lonely　country　with　fog…shrouded　rolling　hills　that　dropped　down　to　the　sea。　Zavala；　who　was　navigating；　checked　the　map。　〃We're　almost　there。　Just　around　the　corner；〃　he　said。
　
　Austin　didn't　know　what　he　was　expecting。　Even　so　he　was　surprised　when　they　rounded　the　curve　and　he　saw　a　neatly　lettered　sign　in　Spanish　and　English　announcing　they　were　at　the　home　of　the　Baja　Tortilla　pany。　He　pulled　over　to　the　side　of　the　road。　The　sign　was　at　the　beginning　of　a　long；　clay　drive　bordered　with　planted　trees。　They　could　see　a　large　building　at　the　end　of　the　driveway。
　
　Austin　leaned　on　the　steering　wheel　and　pushed　his　Foster　Grants　up　onto　his　forehead。　〃You're　sure　this　is　the　right　spot？〃
　
　Zavala　handed　the　map　over　for　Austin's　examination。　〃This　is　the　place；〃　he　said。
　
　〃Looks　like　we　drove　all　this　way　for　nothing。〃
　
　〃Maybe　not；〃　Zavala　said。　〃The　huevos　rancheros　were　excel　lent；　and　I've　got　a　new　Hussong's　Cantina　T…shirt。〃
　
　Austin's　eyes　narrowed。　〃Coincidence　makes　me　suspicious。　The　sign　says　'Visitors　Wele。'　As　long　as　we're　here；　let's　take　them　at　their　word。〃
　
　He　turned　the　truck　off　the　highway　and　drove　a　few　hundred　yards　to　a　neatly　tended　gravel　parking　lot　marked　with　spaces　for　visitors。　Several　cars　with　California　plates　and　a　couple　of　tour　buses　were　parked　in　front　of　the　building；　a　corrugated　aluminum　structure　with　a　portaled　adobe　facade　and　tiled　roof　in　the　Spanish　style。　The　smell　of　baking　corn　wafted　through　the　pickup's　open　windows。
　
　〃Diabolically　clever　disguise；〃　Zavala　said。
　
　〃I　hardly　expected　to　see　a　neon　sign　that　said；　'Wele　from　the　guys　who　killed　the　whales。'　〃
　
　〃I　wish　we　were　toting　our　guns；〃　Zavala　said　with　mock　gravity。　〃You　never　know　when　a　wild　tortilla　will　attack　you。　I　once　heard　about　someone　being　mauled　by　a　burrito　in　No　gales…〃　
　
　　〃Save　it　for　the　drive　back。〃　Austin　got　out　of　the　car　and　led　the　way　to　the　ornately　carved　front　door　of　dark　wood。
　
　They　stepped　into　a　whitewashed　reception　area。　A　smiling　young　Mexican　woman　greeted　them　from　behind　a　desk。　〃Buenos　dias；〃　she　said。　〃You　are　in　luck。　The　tour　of　the　tortilla　factory　is　just　starting。　You're　not　with　a　group　from　a　cruise　boat？〃
　
　Austin　suppressed　a　smile。　〃We're　on　our　own。　We　were　driving　by　and　saw　the　sign。〃
　
　She　smiled　again　and　asked　them　to　join　a　group　of　senior　citizens；　mostly　Americans　and　mostly　from　the　Midwest　from　the　sounds　of　their　accents。　The　receptionist；　who　also　acted　as　guide；　ushered　them　into　the　bakery。
　
　〃Corn　was　life　in　Mexico；　and　tortillas　have　been　the　staple　food　in　Mexico　for　centuries　with　both　the　Indians　and　the　Spanish　settlers。〃　She　led　the　way　past　where　sacks　of　corn　were　being　emptied　into　grinding　machines。　〃For　many　years　people　made　their　tortillas　at　home。　The　corn　was　ground　into　meal；　mixed　with　water　to　produce　masa；　then　rolled；　cut；　pressed；　and　baked　by　hand。　With　the　growth　of　demand　in　Mexico　and　especially　in　the　United　States；　the　tortilla　industry　has　bee　more　centralized。　This　has　allowed　us　to　modernize　our　production　facilities　providing　for　more　efficient　and　sanitary　operation。〃
　

　Speaking　in　low　tones　as　they　trailed　behind　the　others；　Austin　said；　〃If　the　market　for　Mexican　flapjacks　is　in　the　U。S。；　why　isn't　this　place　closer　to　the　border？　Why　make　them　down　here　and　ship　them　up　the　highway？〃
　
　〃Good　question；〃　Zavala　said。　〃The　tortilla　business　in　Mexico　is　a　tightly　held　monopoly　run　by　guys　with　close　government　connections。　It's　a　billion…dollar　industry。　Even　if　you　did　have　a　good　reason　to　locate　this　far　south；　why　build　overlooking　the　ocean？　Nice　place　for　a　luxury　hotel；　but　an　operation　like　this？〃
　
　The　tour　went　past　the　dough　mixers　which　fed　into　machines　that　produced　hundreds　of　tortillas　a　minute；　the　thin　flat　pies　ing　out　on　conveyor　belts；　all　tended　by　workers　in　laundry…white　coats　and　plastic　caps。　The　guide　was　ushering　the　group　to　the　packaging　and　shipping　department　when　Austin　spied　a　door　with　words　written　in　Spanish　on　it。　〃Employees　only？〃　he　asked　Zavala。　Joe　nodded。
　
　〃I've　learned　all　I　want　to　know　about　burritos　and　enchiladas。〃　Austin　stepped　aside　and　tried　the　door。　It　was　unlocked。　〃I'm　going　to　look　around。〃
　
　Eyeing　Austin's　imposing　physique　and　blazing　white　hair；　Zavala　said；　〃With　due　respect　for　your　talents　as　a　snoop；　you　don't　exactly　blend　in　with　the　people　working　around　here。　I　might　be　less　conspicuous　than　a　giant　gringo　stalking　the　hall　ways。〃
　
　Zavala　had　a　good　point。　〃Okay；　snoop　away。　Be　careful。　I'll　meet　you　at　the　end　of　the　tour。　If　the　guide　asks；　I'll　say　you　had　to　go　to　the　restroom。〃
　
　Zavala　winked　and　slipped　through　the　door。　He　was　confident　he　could　charm　his　way　out　of　practically　any　situation　and　had　already　prepared　a　story　saying　he'd　bee　lost　looking　for　the　bano。　He　found　himself　in　a　long　hallway　with　no　windows　or　other　openings　except　for　a　steel　door　at　the　far　end。　He　walked　the　length　of　the　hallway　and　put　his　ear　against　the　door。　Not　hearing　anything；　he　tried　the　knob。　The　door　was　locked。
　
　He　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　modified　Swiss　Army　knife　that　would　have　got　him　arrested　in　places　where　possession　of　burglar　tools　is　illegal。　The　standard　attachments　such　as　scissors；　nail　file；　and　can　opener　had　been　replaced　with　picks　for　the　most　mon　locks。　On　the　fourth　try　he　heard　the　latch　click　open。　Behind　the　door　another　corridor　slanted　down。　Unlike　the　first；　this　passage　had　several　doors。　All　were　lock