cussler.blueandgold-第42部分

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nto　the　bag；　and　his　fingers　closed　on　a　hard　object。　He　pulled　out　a　9mm　pistol。
　
　〃Where　did　this　e　from？〃　he　said　with　astonishment。
　
　〃It　was　Dieter's。〃
　
　Paul　looked　back　at　the　oning　canoes；　then　at　the　cascading　falls。　He　had　little　choice。　Regardless　of　Francesca's　wishes　that　her　former　subjects　not　be　hurt；　they　were　between　the　devil　and　the　deep　blue　sea。　Arrows　were　flying　in　their　direction。
　
　Paul　plunged　his　hand　into　the　bag　again；　looking　for　extra　rounds。　This　time　he　came　out　with　a　GlobalStar　satellite　phone。　Dieter　must　have　used　it　to　keep　in　touch　with　his　buyers。　He　stared　at　it　a　moment　before　the　significance　of　the　find　sank　in。　He　yelled　with　joy。
　
　Gamay　had　moved　closer　and　saw　the　phone。　〃Does　that　thing　work？〃
　
　He　pushed　the　ready　light；　and　the　phone　was　on。　〃I'll　be　damned。〃　Paul　handed　Gamay　the　phone。　〃Give　it　a　try。　I'll　see　if　I　can　scare　those　guys　off。〃
　
　Gamay　punched　a　number　out　on　the　phone。　Seconds　later　a　familiar　deep　voice　answered。
　
　〃Kurt！〃　Gamay　yelled　into　the　phone。　〃It's　me。〃
　
　〃Gamay？　We've　been　worried　about　you。　Are　you　and　Paul　okay？〃　
　
　　She　glanced　at　the　oning　canoes　and　swallowed　hard。　〃We're　in　a　hell　of　a　mess；　and　that's　an　understatement。〃　She　had　to　shout　over　the　roar　of　the　falls。　〃Can't　talk；　I'm　calling　on　a　GlobalStar。　Can　you　get　a　fix　on　our　position？〃
　
　Crack！
　
　Paul　had　laid　a　shot　across　the　bow　of　Alaric's　canoe；　but　it　failed　to　slow　him　down。
　
　〃Was　that　a　gun？〃
　
　〃That　was　Paul　shooting。〃
　
　〃Hard　to　hear　you　with　that　background　noise。　Hold　on。〃
　
　The　seconds　ticked　by　like　years。　Gamay　had　no　illusions　about　her　call。　Even　with　a　position　fix　it　could　be　days　before　someone　came　to　their　aid。　At　least　Austin　would　know　what　happened　to　them。　Austin's　voice　came　back　on；　calm　and　reassuring。　〃We've　got　a　lock　on　you。〃
　
　〃Good。　Gotta　go！〃　Gamay　answered；　ducking　low　as　an　arrow　whizzed　past　like　an　angry　bee。
　
　With　Gamay　and　Paul　busy；　their　canoes　had　drifted　side　ways　to　the　waves。　They　dug　their　paddles　in　and　got　the　boats　around。　Both　dugouts　rocked　dangerously；　but　they　moved　closer　to　the　falls　where　the　mists　might　hide　them。
　
　The　Indians　hesitated；　then；　sensing　the　end　was　near；　began　their　strange　ululation。　The　archers　were　kneeling　in　the　bow。　They　could　stand　off　and　let　arrows　fly　at　their　helpless　targets。
　
　Paul　had　lost　all　patience。　He　raised　the　handgun　and　took　a　bead　on　Alaric。　If　he　killed　the　leader　the　others　might　run　for　it。　Francesca　yelled。　He　thought　she　was　trying　to　spoil　his　shot；　but　the　white　queen　was　pointing　toward　the　top　of　the　falls。
　
　What　looked　like　a　huge　insect　flew　over　the　crest　of　the　falls　and　descended　rapidly　through　the　rainbows　and　the　cloud　of　mist　until　it　was　a　hundred　feet　above　the　lake。　The　helicopter　hovered　for　an　instant；　then　swooped　low　and　buzzed　the　war　canoes。　The　archers　dropped　their　bows；　grabbed　their　paddles；　and　stroked　madly　for　shore。
　
　Paul　lowered　the　pistol　and　grinned　at　Gamay。　They　began　to　paddle　back　toward　the　quieter　waters　of　the　lake。　The　helicopter　circled　around　the　lake；　then　came　back　and　hovered　above　the　dugouts。　A　smiling　figure　with　a　bushy　silver　mustache　and　deep…set　eyes　leaned　out　a　side　door　and　waved。　It　was　Dr。　Ramirez。
　
　The　phone　rang。　It　was　Austin。　〃Gamay；　are　you　and　Paul　all　right？〃
　
　〃We're　fine；〃　she　said；　laughing　with　relief。　〃Thanks　for　sending　the　taxi。　But　you're　going　to　explain　how　you　pulled　this　one　off。　This　is　something；　even　for　the　great　Kurt　Austin。〃
　
　〃Tell　you　about　it　later。　See　you　tomorrow。　I　need　you　back　here。　Be　ready　to　work。〃
　
　A　ladder　was　being　lowered　out　of　the　chopper。
　
　Ramirez　signaled　for　Francesca　to　go　first。　She　hesitated；　then　grabbed　the　lower　rung　and；　as　befitting　a　white　goddess；　began　to　climb　into　the　sky　from　which　she　had　descended　ten　years　before。
　
　Chapter　26　
　Sandy　Wheeler　was　getting　into　her　Honda　Civic　when　the　strange　man　approached　and　asked　in　accented　English　how　to　get　to　the　Los　Angeles　Times　advertising　department。　Instinctively　she　hugged　her　purse　close　to　her　body　and　glanced　around。　She　was　relieved　to　see　other　people　in　the　newspaper's　garage。　She　had　grown　up　in　L。A。　and　was　used　to　freaks。　But　she　was　jumpy　lately　handling　this　crazy　water　story；　and　even　the　cute；　pearl…handled　。22…caliber　pistol　in　her　pocketbook　wasn't　totally　reassuring。　The　stranger　looked　as　if　he　could　chew　the　barrel　off　her　gun　with　his　metal　teeth。
　
　Wheeler　had　the　reporter's　ability　to　take　in　people　at　a　glance；　and　what　she　saw　was　someone　who　looked　as　if　he　played　the　bad　guy　for　the　WWF。　He　was　her　height　and　would　have　been　taller　if　he　had　a　neck。　The　dark　green　sweatsuit　was　a　couple　of　sizes　too　small　for　a　square；　powerful　body　that　looked　as　if　it　had　been　assembled　from　refrigerator　parts。　The　roundish；　grinning　face　framed　by　the　Prussian…cut　dirty　blond　hair　re　minded　her　of　one　of　the　monsters　in　Maurice　Sendak's　Where　the　Wild　Things　Are。　Only　uglier。　But　it　was　the　eyes　that　got　her。　The　irises　were　so　black　that　the　pupils　were　practically　invisible。
　
　After　giving　the　man　hurried　directions；　Sandy　got　into　her　car　and　instantly　locked　the　doors。　She　didn't　care　how　unfriendly　the　gesture　looked。　As　she　backed　out　of　her　space　he　seemed　to　be　in　no　rush　to　go　to　the　advertising　department。　He　stood　there　staring　at　her　with　eyes　as　hard　as　marbles。　She　was　in　her　thirties；　with　long　chestnut　hair；　an　athletic　body　from　jogging　and　working　out。　Her　nut…brown　face　was　taut　and　angular　but　not　unattractive；　dominated　by　large　sky…blue　eyes。　She　was　pretty　enough　to　attract　occasional　attention　from　the　odd　characters　who　seemed　to　drop　from　the　palm　trees　around　town。　She　was　street…smart　and　had　gained　a　layer　of　emotional　calluses　working　as　a　police　reporter　before　being　assigned　to　the　investigative　team。　She　didn't　spook　easily；　but　this　creep　gave　her　the　shivers。　It　went　beyond　appearances。　There　was　some　thing　of　the　grave　about　him。
　
　She　checked　her　rearview　mirror　and　was　surprised　to　see　that　the　man　had　disappeared。　Easy　e；　easy　go；　she　thought。　She　scolded　herself　for　letting　him　sneak　up　on　her。　Growing　up　in　L。A。；　she　had　learned　early　on　to　be　aware　of　her　surroundings　at　all　times。　This　damned　water　story　had　preoccupied　her；　taken　the　edge　off　her　alertness。　Cohen　had　promised　only　a　couple　more　days　before　they　ran　the　story。　Not　soon　enough。　She　was　getting　sick　of　taking　the　file　disks　home。　Cohen　was　positively　paranoid　about　leaving　them　in　the　building。　Every　night　he　cleaned　the　files　off　the　puter　and　put　them　on　backup　disks。　In　the　mornings　he　would　load　them　back　on。
　
　Not　that　Sandy　blamed　him　for　being　paranoid。　There　was　something　special　about　this　story。　The　team　had　talked　Pulitzer　prize。　Cohen　coordinated　the　work　of　the　three　reporters。　Her　area　was　the　Mulholland　Group　and　its　mysterious　president；　Brynhild　Sigurd。　The　other　two　reporters　concentrated　respectively　on　domestic　acquisitions　and　international　connections。　They　had　access　to　an　accountant　and　a　lawyer。　The　secrecy　was　tighter　than　the　Manhattan　Project。　The　editor　was　aware　of　the　story　but　not　its　scope。　She　sighed。　The　story　would　be　out　in　a　few　days；　and　she　could　take　that　long　vacation　in　Maui。
　
　She　swung　out　of　the　garage　and　headed　to　her　condo　in　Culver　City。　She　stopped　off　at　a　shopping　plaza　and　picked　up　a　bottle　of　California　Zinfandel。　Cohen　was　ing　over　later　to　talk　about　wrapping　up　loose　ends；　and　she　had　promised　to　whip　up　a　pot　of　penne。　As　she　was　paying　the　cashier　she　noticed　someone　standing　in　front　of　the　window　looking　into　the　store。　It　was　that　damned　metal…tooth　creep；　and　he　was　smiling。　This　was　no　coincidence。　The　jerk　must　have　followed　her。　She　glared　at　him　as　she　exited　the　store；　then　strode　purposefully　to　ward　her　car。　First　she　dug　the　pistol　out　of　the　purse　and　tucked　it　in　her　belt。　Then　she　called　Cohen　on　her　cell　phone。　He　had　told　her　to　report　anything　unusual。　Cohen　wasn't　there；　but　she　left　a　message　on　his　recorder　saying　she　was　on　her　way　home　and　that　she　thought　she　was　being　followed。
　
　Starting　the　car；　she　pulled　slowly　out　of　the　plaza；　then　gunned　the　engine　and　shot　through　an　intersection　just　as　the　light　changed　to　red。　The　cars　behind　her　all　stopped。　She　knew　the　neighborhood　well　and　cut　through　a　couple　of　motel　parking　lots；　then　down　a　side　street　in　a　circular　route　to　her　apartment。　Her　heart　was　beating　rapidly　as　she　drove；　but　her　pulse　slowed　to　normal　when　she　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　sanctuary　of　the　condominium　building。　She　buzzed　herself　into　the　five　story　apartment　building　and　took　the　elevator　up　to　the　fourth　floor。　She　stepped　out　of　the　elevator　and　almost　dropped　her　groceries　in　surprise。　The　creep　was　at　the　far　end　of　the　hallway。　He　stood　there　with　that　insane　grin；　staring　at　her。　That　did　it。　She　put　the　bag　on　the　floor；　pulled　her　pistol　from　her　belt；　and　pointed　it　at　him。
　
　〃You　e　any　nearer；　and　I'll　blast　your　private　parts　off；〃　she　said。
　
　He　made　no　motion。　If　anything；　the　grin　got　wider。
　
　She　wondered　how　he　had　got　there　ahead　of　her。　Of　course。　He　must　have　known　her　address。　While　she　was　zigzagging　in　an　attempt　to　lose　him；　he　had　simply　driven　directly　to　her　apartment。　That　didn't　explain　how　he　had　got　into　the　building。　The　management　was　going　to　get　an　earful　about　the　lack　of　security。　Maybe　she'd　even　do　a　story　on　it。
　
　Still　keeping　the　pistol　leveled；　she　fumbled　in　her　purse　for　her　keys；　opened　the　door；　and　quickly　shut　it。　Safe　at　last。　She　put　the　pistol　on　a　small　table；　snapped　the　deadbolt　and　chain　lock；　and　put　her　eye　to　the　peephole　in　the　door。　The　creep　was　standing　just　outside；　his　face　distorted　even　more　grotesquely　by　the　lens。　He　was　holding　her　bag　of　groceries　as　if　he　were　a　delivery　boy。　The　nerve　of　him。　She　swore　lustily。　She　wasn't　going　to　screw　around　with　Cohen　this　time。　A　straight　call　to　91　1　to　report　she　was　being　stalked。　She　suddenly　had　the　odd　feeling　that　she　wasn't　alone。
　
　She　turned　from　the　door　and　stared　with　unbelieving　eyes