cc.iceberg-第24部分

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Damned　if　I　can　detect　any　obvious　glitters。〃
　〃Off　to　the　right　just　beyond　that　rock　that　projects　from　the　water。〃
　〃Can't　see　crap　from　this　distance。〃　He　stared　sideways　at　the　point　Pitt　described。　〃It'd　be　like　looking　through　a　keyhole　and　seeing　another　eye　if　I　picked　up　the　binoculars　and　stared　back。　How　can　you　be　sure？〃
　〃There　was　a　reflection。　The　sun　flashed　on　something　for　a　moment。　Probably　a　pair　of　lenses。〃
　〃Let　them　gawk。　If　anybody　should　ask　why　only　two　of　us　were　on　deck；　Tidi　was　seasick　and　in　misery　on　a　bunk　below。〃
　〃That's　as　good　an　excuse　as　any；〃　Pitt　said；　smiling。　〃So　long　as　they　can't　tell　the　difference　between　Tidi　and　me　in　that　wild　set　of　duds。〃
　Sandecker　laughed。　〃Through　binoculars　from　a　nine　away；　your　own　mother　couldn't　tell　the　difference。〃
　〃I'm　not　sure　how　I　should　take　that。〃
　Sandecker　turned　and　stared　into　Pitts　eyes；　his　lips　twisting　from　the　laugh　to　a　wry　smile。　〃Don't　try。　Just　get　your　ass　below。　It's　nappy　time。　I'll　send　Tidi　down　with　a　cup　of　coffee。　And；　no　hanky…panky。　I　know　how　horny　you　get　after　a　hard　day's　dive。〃
　
　An　eerie；　yellow…gray　light　showed　through　the　hatch　when　Sandecker　shook　Pitt　awake。　He　woke　slowly；　mind　blurred；　more　groggy　from　a　catnap　than　from　an　eight…hour　sleep。　Pitt　could　feel　the　drop　in　the　wave　action；　The　Grimsi　was　barely　rocking；　even　in　the　low　even　swells。　There　was　no　hint　of　a　breeze。　The　air　was　damp　and　heavy。
　〃A　change　in　the　weather；　Admiral？〃
　〃A　fog　bank…rolling　in　from　the　south。〃
　〃How　long？〃
　〃Fifteen；　maybe　twenty　minutes。〃
　〃Not　much　time。〃
　〃Enough　。　。　。　enough　for　a　quick　dive。〃
　
　Minutes　later　Pitt　had　slipped　into　his　gear　and　dropped　over　the　side。　Down　again　into　a　world　where　there　is　no　sound；　no　wind；　down　where　air　is　not　known。　He　cleared　his　ears　and　kicked　his　fins　hard　and　descended；　his　muscles　cold　and　aching；　his　brain　still　sluggish　from　sleep。
　
　He　swam　silently；　effortlessly；　as　though　suspended　by　a　wire　through　the　great　fluid　backdrop。　He　swam　through　the　darkening　colors；　the　blue…green　now　changing　slowly　to　a　soft　gray。　He　swam　with　no　sense　of　direction；　save　for　what　his　instinct　and　the　landmarks　on　the　bottom　told　him。　Then　he　found　it。
　
　His　heart　began　pounding　like　a　bass　drum　as　he　approached　the　plane　cautiously；　knowing　from　experience　that　once　he　entered　the　tangled　wreckage；　every　movement　would　be　a　menace。
　
　He　flippered　around　to　the　shattered　opening　of　the　fuselage　eight　feet　aft　of　the　wings　and　was　greeted　by　a　small　rosefish；　no　more　than　six　inches　long。　Its　orance…red　scales　contrasted　vividly　with　the　dark　background　and　fluoresced　in　the　dim　light　like　a　tiny　Christmas　tree　ornament。　It　stared　at　Pitt　for　a　moment　from　one　beady　eye　set　solidly　under　a　spiny　head。　then　began　darting　back　and　forth　in　front　of　his　face　mask　as　he　entered　the　plane。
　
　As　soon　as　his　eyes　adjusted　to　the　darkness；　they　met　with　a　jumbled　mess　of　seats；　broken　from　their　moorings　on　the　floor；　and　wooden　boxes　floating　in　confusion　against　the　ceiling。　Tugging　two　of　the　boxes　toward　the　opening；　he　pushed　them　out　and　watched　until　they　lifted　free　on　their　way　toward　the　surface。
　
　Then　he　spied　a　glove　with　its　finger　sockets　still　encasing　a　man's　hand。　The　body　attached　by　a　greenish　arm　to　the　hand　was　jammed　between　the　seats　in　the　lower　corner　of　the　main　cabin。　Pitt　pulled　the　corpse　out　and　searched　its　clothing。　He　must　have　been　the　one　who　fired　the　machine　gun　from　the　doorway；　Pitt　reasoned。
　
　The　head　wasn't　a　pretty　sight；　it　had　been　smashed　to　semiliquid　paste；　the　gray　matter　and　skull　fragments　straggling　in　reddish　tentacles　away　from　the　center　mass　and　swaying　in　unison　with　the　current。　The　pockets　of　the　torn　black　overalls　covering　the　remains　held　nothing　but　a　screwdriver。
　
　Pitt　shoved　the　screwdriver　under　his　weigbtbelt　then；　half　swimming；　half　gliding；　he　entered　the　cockpit。　Except　for　a　broken　windshield　on　the　copilot's　side；　the　heart　of　the　aircraft　appeared　empty　and　undamaged。　But　then　he　happened　to　look　up　at　his　air　bubbles　rising　to　the　overhead　panel　and　travelin（Y　like　a　shyer　snake　in　search　of　an　escape　exit。　They　eventually　ran　together　and　clustered　in　one　corner；　encircling　another　corpse；　pushed　up　there　by　internal　gases　expanding　under　the　deposing　flesh。
　
　The　dead　pilot　wore　the　same　type　of　black　overalls。　A　quick　search　revealed　nothing；　the　pockets　were　empty。　The　little　rosefish　wiggled　past　Pitt　and　begin　nibbling　on　the　bulging　right　eye　of　the　pilot。　Panting　heavily；　Pitt　pushed　the　body　upward　out　of　the　way。
　
　He　fought　an　urge　to　vomit　into　his　mouthpiece　and　waited　until　he　regained　control　of　his　breathing　again。
　
　He　glanced　at　the　Doxa　watch。　He　had　only　been　down　for　nine　minutes；　not　the　ninety　his　imagination　suggested。　There　was　little　time　left。　Quickly　he　groped　around　the　small　enclosure；　looking　for　a　log　book；　a　maintenance　or　check…out　list；　anything　with　printing　on　it。　The　cockpit　kept　its　secret　well。　There　was　no　record　of　any　kind。　Not　even　a　sticker　with　the　aircraft's　call　letters　adhering　to　the　face　of　the　radio　transmitter。
　
　It　was　like　leavin（；　the　womb；　being　born　again；　when　he　emerged　from　the　plane。　The　open　water　was　darker　now　than　when　he　had　entered。　After　checking　the　tail　section；　he　kicked　over　to　the　starboard　engine。
　
　No　hope　here；　it　was　almost　totally　buried　in　the　bottom　silt。　He　got　lucky　on　the　port　engine。　Not　only　was　it　easily　accessible；　but　the　cowling　had　broken　off；　leaving　the　turbine　casing　bare　for　inspection。　But　fate　wasn't　playing　the　game。　He　discovered　the　area　where　the　identification　plate　should　have　been。　It　was　gone。
　
　Only　the　four　little　brass　screws　that　once　held　it　remained；　neatly　set　in　their　threads。
　
　Pitt　slammed　his　fist　against　the　casing　in　frustration。　It　was　useless　to　look　further。　He　knew　all　identifying　marks　on　instruments；　electrical　ponents；　and　other　mechanical　units　on　the　plane　would　be　erased。
　
　Silently　he　cursed　the　brim　behind　the　thoroughness。　It　seemed　uncanny　that　one　man　could　have　considered　and　planned　for　every　conceivable　contingency。　In　spite　of　the　near　freezing　water；　trickles　of　sweat　rolled　down　his　face　under　the　mask。　His　mind　was　turning　aimlessly；　posing　problems　and　questions；　but　impotert　to　e　up　with　solutions。　Without　thinking！；　without　controlled　effort；　his　eyes　began　following　the　antics　of　the　rosefish。　It　had　trailed　him　from　the　cockpit　and　was　cavorting　around　a　silver　object　a　few　feet　beyond　the　bow　of　the　plane。　Pitt　kept　his　eyes　on　the　little　fish　for　nearly　thirty　seconds；　aware　of　nothing　except　the　sound　of　his　exhaust　bubbles；　before　he　finally　reacted　and　recognized　the　long　silver　tube　as　the　hydraulic　shock　absorber　of　the　nose　wheel。
　
　Swiftly　he　was　over　it；　studying　the　cylinder　carefully。　The　crash　had　torn　it　from　the　support　strut　and；　together　with　the　tire　and　wheel；　had　thrown　the　assembly　out　from　under　the　nose　section。　It　was　the　same　story。　The　manufacturer's　serial　number　had　been　filed　from　the　aluminum　housing。　Then；　as　he　was　about　to　head　toward　the　surface；　he　threw　a　last　quick　look　down。　On　the　end　section　of　the　housing　where　the　hydraulic　tubing　had　pulled　from　its　connection；　Pitt　spotted　a　small　marking：　two　roughly　gouged　letters　in　the　metal…SC。　Taking　the　screwdriver　from　his　weightbelt；　he　etched　his　initials　next　to　the　other　marking。　The　depth　of　his　DP　matched　that　of　the　SC。
　
　Okay。　No　sense　in　hanging　around；　he　reasoned。
　
　His　air　was　being　difficult　to　inhale…the　signal　that　his　tank　was　getting　low。　He　pulled　his　reserve　valve　and　moved　upward。　The　rosefish　followed　him　until　he　turned　and　waved　his　hand　in　its　path；　sending　the　little　marine　creature　scurrying　behind　a　friendly　rock。　Pitt　smiled　and　nodded。　His　playful　panion　would　have　to　find　a　new　friend。
　
　Pitt　arched　on　his　back　at　fifty　feet；　looking　directly　up　at　where　the　surface　should　have　been；　trying　to　get　his　bearings　in　relation　to　The　Grimsi。　The　light　was　equal　in　all　directions；　only　his　ascending　bubbles　indicated　the　direction　of　his　native　element。　It　slowly　began　to　get　lighter；　but　it　was　still　much　darker　than　when　he　dropped　off　The　Grimsi's　side。　Pitts　anxious　head　broke　water；　to　be　engulfed　by　a　thick　cloak　of　fog。　God；　he　thought；　this　soup　makes　it　impossible　to　find　the　boat。　To　strike　out　for　shore　would　have　been　at　best　a　four…to…one　gamble。
　
　Pitt　unshouldered　his　airtank　harness；　tied　it　to　his　already　unhooked　weightbelt；　and　let　them　fall　together　to　the　bottom。　Now　he　could　float　fortably；　thanks　to　the　buoyancy　of　his　rubber　wet　suit。
　
　He　lay　quietly；　barely　breathing；　listening　for　a　sound　through　the　dense　gray　blanket。　At　first　he　could　hear　only　the　water　lapping　around　his　body。　Then　his　ears　picked　up　a　faint　gravelly　voice　。　。　。　a　voice　singing　a　flat　version　of　〃My　Bonnie　Lies　over　the　Ocean。〃　Pitt　cupped　his　ears；　amplifying　the　sound；　determining　the　direction。
　
　He　struck　out　with　an　easy　energy…saving　breast　stroke　fifty　feet　and　then　stopped。　The　offkey　signaling　had　increased　in　volume。　Five　minutes　later　he　touched　the　seaworn　hull　of　The　Grimsi　and　pulled　himself　on　board。
　〃Have　a　nice　swim？〃　Sandecker　asked　conversationally。
　〃Hardly　enjoyable　and　barely　profitible。〃　Pitt　unzipped　the　wet　suit　top；　revealing　a　dense　mat　of　black　chest　hair。　He　grinned　at　the　admiral。　〃Funny　thing。　I　could　swear　I　heard　a　fog　horn。〃
　〃That　was　no　fog　horn。　That　was　a　former　baritone　of　the　Annapolis　Glee　Club；　class　of　'39。〃
　〃You　were　never　in　better　voice；　Admiral。〃　Pitt　looked　Sandecker　in　the　eye。　〃Thanks。〃
　Sandecker　smiled。　〃Don't　thank　me；　thank　Tidi。　She　had　to　sit　through　ten　choruses。〃
　She　materialized　out　of　the　mist　and　hugged　him。
　〃Thank　God　you're　safe。〃　She　clung　to　him；　the　dampness　trickling　down　her　face；　her　hair　falling　in　matted　tendrils。
　〃It's　nice　to　know　I've　been　missed。〃
　She　stood　back。　〃Missed？　That's　putting　it　mildly。　Admiral　Sandecker　and　I　were　beginning　to　e　unglued。〃
　〃Speak　for　yourself；　Miss　Royal；〃　Sandecker　said　sternly。
　〃You　didn't　fool　me　for　a　second；　Ad