cc.iceberg-第40部分

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ugh　with　this　terrible　thing。　His　purpose　glories　in　goodness；　but　the　people　he　has　surrounded　himself　with；　glory　only　in　greed　and　power。〃
　
　Pitt　only　nodded　without　speaking。
　〃I　forgive　James　for　what　he　has　done。〃　Sam　was　talking；　almost　rambling　to　himself。　〃Tell　him　his　brother　forgives…〃
　〃My　God！〃　Pitts　shock　showed　in　his　face。
　〃You're　brothers？〃
　〃Yes；　James　is　my　younger　brother。　I　remained　in　the　background　these　many　years；　handling　the　financial　details　and　problems　that　plague　a　giant　multinational　corporation。　James；　a　master　at　wheeling　and　dealing；　enjoyed　the　center　of　attraction。　Until　now；　we　were　a　pretty　successful　bination。〃　Sam　Kelly　bowed　his　head　in　a　barely　perceptible　sign　of　farewell。
　〃God　bring　you　luck。〃　And　then　a　smile　slowly　stretched　across　his　face。　〃Don't　forget　my　cigar。〃
　〃You　can　count　on　it；〃　Pitt　murmured。　He　turned　away；　his　mind　swirling　with　conflicting　images　and　emotions；　then　slowly　clearing　and　settling　on　one　permanent　irresistible　purpose　that　held　his　mental　processes　in　a　viselike　grip。　The　driving　force；　the　hatred　that　had　been　smoldering　within　him　since　Rondheim　lashed　out　with　the　first　crippling　blow；　now　exploded　into　an　intense　burning　flame　that　consumed　his　mind　to　the　expulsion　of　all　else；　but　then　his　thoughts　were　pulled　back　to　reality　by　the　low　voice　of　the　Russian　diplomat；　Tamareztov。
　〃The　heart　of　a　good　munist　goes　with　you；　Major　Pitt。〃
　
　Pitt　barely　paused　to　reply。　〃I'm　honored。　It's　not　often　a　munist　has　to　rely　on　a　capitalist　to　save　his　life。〃
　〃It　is　not　an　easy　pill　to　swallow。〃
　
　Pitt　stopped　and　looked　down　at　Tamareztov　in　slow　speculation；　noting　the　arms　lying　limply　on　the　ground；　the　unnatural　angle　of　the　left　leg。　Then　his　face　softened。
　〃If　you　promise　not　to　hold　any　party　indoctrination　lectures　while　I'm　gone；　I'll　bring　you　back　a　bottle　of　vodka。〃；　Tamareztov　stared　back　at　Pitt　curiously。　〃A　display　of　Yankee　humor；　Major？　But　I　think　you　really　mean　what　you　say　about　the　vodka。〃
　
　A　grin　touched　the　corners　of　Pitts　lips。　〃Don't　misread　my　intentions。　Since　I'm　already　taking　a　short　walk　to　the　corner　liquor　store；　I　merely　thought　I'd　save　you　the　trip。〃　Then；　before　the　unprehending　Russian　could　reply；　Pitt　turned　and　began　climbing　the　embankment　toward　the　top　of　the　ravine。
　
　Cautiously　at　first；　a　few　inches　at　a　time；　trying　to　move　at　a　pace　that　favored　his　cracked　ribs；　Pitt　clawed　at　the　soft；　slippery　earth　and　pulled　himself　upward　without　looking　in　any　direction　except　straight　ahead。　The　first　twenty　feet　were　easy。　Then　the　slope　steepened　and　the　soil　became　more　firm；　making　it　difficult　to　dig　the　shallow　hand　and　toeholds　which　afforded　his　only　source　of　support。
　
　The　climb　itself　became　a　purgatory；　unctuated　by　the　agony　of　his　injuries。　All　emotion　had　drained　away；　his　movements　became　mechanical；　dig　and　pull；　dig　and　pull。　He　tried　to　keep　count　of　each　foot　gained　but　lost　track　after　thirty；　his　mind　totally　void　of　all　mental　function。
　
　He　was　like　a　blind　man　moving　through　the　daylight　in　a　blind　world；　and　the　only　sense　he　still　possessed　was　the　sense　of　touch。　Then　for　the　first　time　fear　came　to　him…not　fear　of　falling　or　fear　of　injury；　but　the　honest；　cold　fear　of　failing　over　twenty　people　whose　lives　depended　on　his　reaching　that　line　between　earth　and　sky　that　seemed　so　far　above　him。　Minutes　passed　that　seemed　like　hours。　How　many？　He　didn't　know；　would　never　know。　Time　as　a　means　of　measurement　no　longer　existed。　His　body　was　simply　a　robot　going　through　repeated　motions　without　the　benefit　of　constant　mands　from　the　mind。
　
　He　began　counting　again；　only　this　time　he　stopped　at　ten。　Then　one　minute　of　rest；　he　told　himself；　no　more；　and　he　began　again。　His　breath　was　ing　in　heaving　gulps　now；　his　fingers　were　raw；　the　ends　of　the　nails　jagged　and　spotted　with　blood；　his　arm　muscles　aching　from　the　continuous　effort…a　sure　sign　his　body　was　about　spent。　Sweat　trickled　down　his　face；　but　the　irritating　tickle　could　not　be　felt　through　'his　agonized　flesh。　He　paused　and　looked　up；　seeing　little　through　the　swollen　slits　that　were　his　eyes。　The　edge　of　the　ravine　blended　into　a　nebulous　line　of　angles　and　shadowy　profiles　that　defied　any　judgment　of　distance。
　
　And　then　suddenly；　almost　with　a　sense　of　surprise；　Pitts　hands　found　the　soft；　crumbling　edge　of　the　slope。　With　strength　he　didn't　think　was　possible；　he　pulled　himself　up　onto　flat　ground　and　rolled　over　on　his　back；　laying　inert　and　to　all　appearances；　dead。
　
　For　nearly　five　minutes；　Pitt　lay　rigid；　only　his　chest　moving　with　the　pulsating　rise　and　fall　of　his　breath。　Slowly；　as　the　waves　of　total　exhaustion　receded　to　a　level　of　sufferable　tolerance；　he　pulled　himself　to　his　feet　and　peered　into　the　bottom　of　the　narrow　chasm　at　the　tiny　figures　below。　He　cupped　his　hands　to　yell；　then　decided　against　it。　There　were　no　words　he　could　think　of　to　shout　that　had　any　meaning；　any　encouragement。　All　the　people　below　could　see　was　his　head　and　shoulders　over　the　level　of　the　steep　cliff。　Then　with　a　wave　of　the　hand；　he　was　gone。
　
　Chapter　17
　
　Pitt　stood　like　a　solitary　tree　on　a　great　empty　plain。　A　dark　green　mosslike　vegetation　spread　in　every　direction　as　far　as　he　could　see；　edged　on　one　horizon　by　a　range　of　high　hills　and　cloaked　by　a　sun…whitened　mist　on　two　others。　Except　for　a　few　small　rises　dotting　the　desolate　landscape；　most　of　the　ground　was　nearly　flat。　At　first　he　thought　he　was　pletely　alone。　But　then　he　saw　a　tiny　snipe　that　soared　across　the　sky　like　a　dart　in　search　of　an　unseen　target。　It　came　closer；　and　from　a　height　of　two　hundred　feet　it　circled　and　looked　down　at　Pitt；　as　if　curiously　inspecting　the　strange　animal　that　stood　out　so　vividly　in　red　and　yellow　plumage　against　the　center　of　the　unending　green　carpet。　After　three　cursory　sweeps；　the　little　bird's　inquisitiveness　waned　and　it　fluttered　its　wings　against　the　air　and　continued　on　its　seeming　flight　to　nowhere。
　
　As　if　perceiving　the　bird's　thoughts；　Pitt　stared　down　at　his　offbeat　clothing　and　murmured　vaguely　to　himself；　〃I've　heard　of　being　all　dressed　up　with　no　place　to　go；　but　this　is　ridiculous。〃
　
　The　sound　of　his　voice　suddenly　woke　him　up　to　the　fact　that　his　mind　was　working　again。　He　felt　the　relief　that　was　due　from　overing　the　exhausting　climb　from　the　ravine；　the　high　elation　of　being　alive　and　the　hope　of　finding　help　before　the　people　below　died　from　the　near…freezing　temperatures。　Jubilantly　he　struck　out　across　the　tundra　toward　the　distant　hills。
　
　Fifty　feet；　no　further；　that　was　as　far　as　Pitt　got　when　it　abruptly　hit　him。　He　was　lost。　The　sun　was　high　above　the　skyline。　There　were　no　stars　to　guide　him。
　
　North；　south；　east　and　west　were　words　that　meant　nothing；　had　no　definition　in　terms　of　measurement　or　accuracy。　Once　he　entered　the　mist　that　was　crawling　across　the　land　toward　him；　he　would　have　no　guideline；　no　landmarks　to　take　a　sight　on。　He　was　lost；　adrift　without　any　sense　of　direction。
　
　For　once　that　cold；　damp　morning；　he　didn't　feel　the　grip　of　fear。
　
　It　wasn't　that　he　knew　fear　would　cloud　his　thoughts；　confuse　his　reasoning。　He　was　consumed　with　sharp　anger　that　he　should　have　been　so　beautifully　tricked　into　placency；　so　ignorantly　unaware　that　he　was　stumbling　to　his　death。　Every　contingency；　the　puters　of　Hermit　Limited；　his　arch…enemy；　had　mechanically　figured　on　every　contingency。　The　stakes　were　too　high　in　the　murderous　game　that　Kelly；　Rondheim　and　their　group　of　incredibly　ruthless　business　associates　were　playing。　But　he　swore　to　himself　that　he　wasn't　going　to　be　forced　to　land　on　Boardwalk　and　pay　a　rent　he　couldn't　afford　without　passing　Go。　He　stopped；　sat　down　and　took　stock。
　
　It　didn't　take　any　great　ingenious　deduction　to　determine　that　he　was　sitting　somewhere　in　the　middle　of　the　uninhabited　part　of　Iceland。
　
　He　tried　to　remember　what　little　he　had　learned　about　the　Eden　of　the　North　Atlantic；　what　few　facts　he　bad　absorbed　when　studying　the　flight　maps　on　board　the　Catawaba。　The　island　stretched　one　hundred　ninety　miles　from　north　to　south；　he　recalled；　and　nearly　three　hundred　miles　from　east　to　west。　Since　the　shortest　distance　between　two　points　was　north　and　south；　the　other　two　directions　were　eliminated。　If　he　traveled　south；　there　was　every　possibility　that　he　would　run　onto　the　Vatnajbkull　ice　mass；　not　only　Iceland's　but　Europe's　largest　glacier；　a　great　frozen　wall　that　would　have　signaled　the　end　of　every　thing。
　
　North　it　was；　he　decided。　The　logic　behind　his　decision　bordered　on　the　primitive；　but　there　was　another　reason；　a　pelling　urge　to　outsmart　the　puters　by　traveling　in　the　direction　least　expected；　a　direction　that　offered　the　least　obvious　chance　of　success。　The　average　man　in　similar　circumstances　would　have　probably　headed　toward　Reykjavik；　the　largest　sprawl　of　civilization；　far　to　the　west　and　south。　That　is　undoubtedly；　he　hoped；　what　the　puters　had　been　programmed　for…the　average　man。
　
　Now　he　had　an　answer；　but　it　was　only　half　an　answer。　Which　way　was　north？　Even　if　he　knew　for　certain；　he　had　no　means　to　follow　it　along　a　straight　line。
　
　The　accepted　fact　that　a　man　who　was　right…handed　would　eventually　make　a　great　arc　to　his　right　without　any　landmarks　to　guide　him；　came　back　to　haunt　Pitts　thoughts。
　
　The　whine　of　the　jet　engines　interrupted　his　reverie　and　he　looked　up；　holding　his　hand　to　shield　his　eyes　from　the　glare　of　the　cobalt　blue　sky；　sighting　a　mercial　airliner　cruising　serenely　ahead　of　its　long　white　contrails。　Pitt　could　only　wonder　at　the　aircraft's　course。
　
　It　could　have　been　heading　anywhere：　west　to　Reykjavik；　east　to　Norway；　southeast　to　London。　There　was　no　way　to　tell　for　certain　unless　he　had　a　pass。
　
　A　pass；　the　word　lingered　in　his　mind；　savored　like　the　thought　of　an　ice…cold　beer　by　a　man　dying　of　thirst　in　the　middle　of　the　Mojave　Desert。　A　pass；　a　simple　piece　of　magnetic　iron　mounted　on　a　pivot　and　floating　in　a　mixture　of　glycerin　and　water。　Then　a　light　suddenly　clicked　on　deep　in　the　recesses　of　his　brain。　A　long…forgotten　bit　of　outdoor　lore　he'd　learned　many　years　before　d