cc.floodtide-第50部分

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　〃Sure　you　don't　want　to　knock　off　for　a　sandwich？〃　asked　Stewart。
　Gunn　shook　his　head。　〃I'll　see　it　through　and　fill　my　empty　stomach　at　dinner。〃
　
　It　took　only　ten　minutes　for　the　AUV　to　cross　under　the　river　to　the　east　side　of　the　port。　Gunn　then　programmed　the　AUV's　controls　to　start　the　run　at　the　end　of　the　casing　wall；　working　north　to　south。　The　AUV　had　only　covered　two　hundred　yards　when　the　phone　beside　him　buzzed。　〃Can　you　take　that？〃　he　asked　Stewart。
　The　Marine　Denizen's　skipper　picked　up　the　receiver　and　then　handed　it　to　Gunn。　〃It's　Dirk　Pitt。〃
　〃Pitt。〃　Gunn　turned　from　the　monitor；　his　eyebrows　raised　in　surprise。　He　took　the　phone　and　spoke　into　the　mouthpiece；　〃Dirk？〃
　〃Hello；　Rudi；〃　came　Pitt's　familiar　voice。　〃I'm　calling　from　an　airplane　somewhere　over　the　Nevada　desert。〃
　〃How　did　your　underwater　search　of　the　United　States　go？〃
　〃Got　a　little　hairy　there　for　a　while；　but　all　Al　and　I　found　was　a　smooth　hull　and　keel　with　no　openings。〃
　〃If　we　don't　find　anything　on　this　end　in　the　next　few　hours；　we'll　join　you。〃
　〃Are　you　using　a　submersible？〃　asked　Pitt。
　〃Not　necessary；〃　replied　Gunn。　〃An　AUV　is　doing　the　job　just　fine。〃
　〃Keep　a　tight　leash　on　it；　or　Qin　Shang's　underwater　security　people　will　steal　it　before　your　eyes。　They're　sneaky　devils。〃
　
　Gunn　hesitated　before　he　replied；　wondering　what　Pitt　meant。　He　was　about　to　ask　when　Stewart　came　back。　〃They're　serving　lunch；　Rudi。　I'll　talk　to　you　after　we　reach　Washington。　Good　luck；　and　give　my　best　to　Frank　Stewart。〃　Then　the　connection　went　dead。
　
　〃How　is　Dirk？〃　inquired　Stewart。　〃I　haven't　seen　him　since　we　worked　together　on　the　Lady　Flamborough　cruise…ship　search　down　off　Tierra　del　Fuego　a　few　years　ago。〃
　〃Testy　as　ever。　He　gave　me　a　strange　warning。〃
　〃Warning？〃
　〃He　said　Qin　Shang's　underwater　security　people　might　steal　the　AUV；〃　Gunn　answered；　obviously　confused。
　〃What　underwater　security？〃　said　Stewart　sarcastically。
　Gunn　didn't　reply。　His　eyes　suddenly　widened　and　he　pointed　at　the　video　monitor。　〃My　God；　look！〃
　
　Stewart's　eyes　followed　Gunn's　outstretched　finger　and　stiffened。
　
　A　face　wearing　a　diver　mask　filled　the　screen　of　the　monitor　They　stared　in　amazement　as　the　diver　pulled　off　the　mask　and　revealed　very　Chinese…featured　eyes；　nose　and　mouth。　Then　he　flashed　a　wide　gnn　and　waved　as　a　child　waves　bye…bye。
　
　Then　the　image　went　dark　and　was　replaced　with　jagged　gray　and　white　streaks。　Gunn　frantically　manded　the　AUV　to　return　to　the　Marine　Denizen；　but　there　was　no　response。　The　AUV　had　disappeared　as　if　it　had　never　been　launched。
　
　PlTT　KNEW　SOMETHING　WAS　WRONG　THE　INSTANT　THE　NUMA　driver　stopped　the　car。　A　tiny　indescribable　alarm　tingled　inside　his　brain　and　traveled　to　the　nape　of　his　neck。　Something　was　not　as　it　should　have　been。
　
　A　life…threatening　situation　was　the　last　thing　on　his　mind　on　the　ride　from　Andrews　Air　Force　Base；　where　the　NUMA　jet　had　landed；　to　his　home　on　a　far　corner　of　Washington's　National　Airport。　Darkness　had　closed　over　the　city；　but　he　ignored　the　ocean　of　lights　illuminating　the　buildings。　He　tried　to　relax　and　let　his　mind　drift；　but　it　kept　returning　to　Orion　Lake。　He　thought　it　odd　that　the　story　had　not　broken　in　the　　news　media。
　
　From　the　outside；　the　former　aircraft…maintenance　hangar　that　was　built　in　1937；　the　year　Amelia　Earhart　disappeared；　appeared　forlorn　and　deserted。　Weeds　grew　right　up　to　its　rusting；　corrugated…metal　walls；　whose　paint　had　long　since　　vanished　after　decades　of　onslaught　by　the　extremes　of　　Washington's　weather　patterns。　Though　it　had　been　condemned　as　an　eyesore　and　scheduled　to　be　demolished；　Pitt　had　visualized　the　hangar's　potential。　Stepping　in　at　the　last　minute；　he　thwarted　FAA　bureaucrats　by　winning　a　battle　to　have　it　placed　on　the　national　register　of　historic　landmarks。　Preventing　its　destruction；　he　purchased　the　building　and　surrounding　acre　of　property　and　went　to　work　on　the　interior；　remodeling　it　into　a　bination　living　quarters　and　storage　facility　for　his　collection　of　classic　automobiles　and　aircraft。
　
　Pitt's　grandfather　had　acquired　a　small　fortune　in　developing　Southern　California　real　estate。　On　his　death；　he　left　his　grandson　a　considerable　inheritance。　After　paying　the　estate　taxes；　Pitt　had　chosen　to　invest　in　classic　cars　and　aircraft　rather　than　stocks　and　bonds。　In　twenty　years；　he　had　built　up　a　collection　that　was　highly　unique。
　
　Rather　than　bathe　the　hangar　in　a　battery　of　floodlights；　Pitt　preferred　that　it　appear　desolate　and　empty。　One　small　light　atop　an　electrical　pole　that　gave　off　a　dim　yellow　glow　was　all　that　illuminated　the　unpaved　road　that　ended　at　the　hangar。　He　turned　and　stared　through　the　car's　window　and　studied　the　top　of　the　pole。　A　red　light　that　should　have　beamed　from　a　concealed　security　camera　was　dark。
　
　It　was　an　indication　as　conspicuous　to　him　as　a　blinking　stop　sign　that　something　was　drastically　wrong。
　
　Pitt's　security　system　was　designed　and　installed　by　a　friend　with　an　intelligence　agency　who　was　at　the　top　of　his　trade。　No　one　but　a　skilled　professional　could　have　e　within　a　country　mile　of　breaking　the　code　and　promising　it。　He　gazed　around　the　barren　landscape　and　detected　the　shadow　of　a　van　faintly　visible　fifty　yards　away　under　the　reflected　light　from　the　city　across　the　Potomac。　Pitt　didn't　require　the　services　of　a　psychic　to　know　that　someone　or　some　group　had　gained　entry　into　the　hangar　and　was　waiting　to　throw　a　wele　inside。
　
　〃What's　your　name？〃　Pitt　asked　the　driver。
　〃Sam　Greenberg。〃
　〃Sam；　do　you　carry　a　satellite　phone？〃
　〃Yes；　sir；　I　do；〃　Greenberg　replied。
　〃Contact　Admiral　Sandecker　and　tell　him　I　have　uninvited　visitors　and　to　please　send　a　security　force　as　quickly　as　possible。〃
　Greenberg　was　young；　no　more　than　twenty；　a　student　studying　oceanography　at　a　local　university　while　earning　extra　money　under　a　marine　educational　program　with　NUMA　created　by　Admiral　Sandecker。　〃Shouldn't　I　call　the　police？〃
　
　The　kid　is　sharp；　Pitt　thought；　he'd　quickly　grasped　the　situation。　〃Not　a　matter　for　local　law　enforcement。　Please　make　the　call　as　soon　as　you're　away　from　the　hangar。　The　admiral　will　know　the　drill。〃
　〃Are　you　going　in　alone？〃　the　student　asked　as　Pitt　exited　the　car　and　retrieved　his　well…traveled　duffel　bag　from　the　trunk。
　Pitt　looked　at　the　young　man　and　smiled。　〃A　good　host　always　entertains　his　guests。〃　He　stood　and　waited　until　the　NUMA　car's　taillights　faded　into　the　dust　cloud　trailing　the　rear　bumper。　He　paused　to　unzip　his　duffel　bag　to　retrieve　his　old　Colt　。45　before　remembering　that　he'd　failed　to　obtain　any　cartridges　after　Julia　Lee　had　emptied　the　gun　at　the　ultralight　aircraft　on　the　Orion　River。
　
　〃Empty！〃　he　said　through　his　teeth。　As　he　stood　alone　in　the　night　he　began　to　wonder　if　he　had　a　permanently　dislocated　brain。　There　was　nothing　left　but　to　act　dumb　and　enter　the　hangar　as　if　he　suspected　nothing；　then　attempt　to　reach　one　of　his　collector　cars　where　he　kept　a　shotgun　secreted　inside　a　walnut　cabinet　originally　crafted　to　contain　an　umbrella。
　
　He　pulled　a　small　remote　transmitter　from　his　pocket　and　whistled　the　first　few　bars　of　〃Yankee　Doodle。〃　The　sound…recognition　signal　electronically　shut　down　the　security　systems　and　unlocked　a　shabby　side　door　that　looked　as　if　it　was　last　open　in　1945。　A　green　light　on　the　remote　flashed　three　times　in　series。　It　should　have　flashed　four；　he　observed。　Someone　who　was　very　clever　at　neutralizing　security　systems　had　broken　his　code。　He　closed　his　eyes；　paused　for　a　few　moments　and　took　a　deep　breath。　As　the　door　cracked　open；　he　dropped　to　the　ground　on　his　hands　and　knees　and　reached　around　the　frame　and　flicked　on　the　interior　lights。
　
　The　inside　walls；　floor　and　curved　roof　were　painted　a　glossy　white　that　accented　a　spectrum　of　vivid　colors　gleaming　off　the　thirty　beautifully　painted　cars　spaced　throughout　the　hangar。　The　visual　effect　was　dazzling；　which　was　what　Pitt　counted　on　to　blind　whoever　was　waiting　in　the　blackened　interior　to　ambush　him。　He　reminded　himself　that　the　orange…bodied　and　brown…fendered　1929　Duesenberg　convertible　sedan　containing　the　shotgun　was　the　third　car　from　the　door。
　
　The　intruders　were　not　on　a　social　visit。　His　suspicions　were　abruptly　confirmed　when　he　heard　what　sounded　like　a　series　of　muted　pops　and　sensed　rather　than　felt　a　torrent　of　bullets　spraying　the　doorway。　The　suppressors　on　the　killers'　guns　changed　the　character　of　the　gunfire　in　such　a　way　that　it　was　not　identifiable　as　gunshots。　They　were　using　silencers　even　though　there　wasn't　another　soul　within　a　mile。　His　arm　whipped　around　the　door　again；　and　he　flicked　the　lights。　Then　he　slithered　like　a　snake　under　the　hail　of　fire　around　the　doorway　and　then　crept　beneath　the　first　two　collector　cars；　a　1932　Stutz　and　a　1931　L…29　Cord；　blessing　the　old　vehicles　for　sitting　high　off　the　ground。　Reaching　the　Duesenberg　unscathed；　he　leaped　over　the　side　door　onto　the　floor　of　the　rear　seat。　In　almost　the　same　motion　he　turned　the　knob　on　the　door　of　the　cabinet　behind　the　front　seat　and　pulled　it　open。　Then　he　removed　an　Aserma　12…gauge　Bulldog　self…ejecting　shotgun　that　held　eleven　rounds。　The　deadly；　pact　firearm　lacked　a　buttstock　but　was　mounted　with　a　flash　hider/muzzle　brake。　It　was　one　of　four　guns　Pitt　secreted　throughout　the　hangar　for　just　such　an　occasion。
　
　The　interior　of　the　hangar　was　as　dark　as　the　deepest　reaches　of　a　cave。　If　these　guys　are　pros；　Pitt　considered；　and　there　was　almost　no　uncertainty　about　their　being　highly　trained；　they'll　be　using　night…vision　scopes　and　infrared　laser　sights。　Assessing　the　trajectory　of　the　bullets　as　they　whistled　through　the　doorway；　Pitt　guessed　that　there　were　two　assassins　probably　armed　with　fully　automatic　machine　pistols。　One　was　somewhere　on　the　ground　floor；　the　other　on　the　balcony　to　his　living　quarters　thirty　feet　above　one　corner　of　the　hangar。　Whoever　wanted　him　dead　made　certain　there　was　a　backup　in　case　one　assassin　failed。
　
　There　was　no　attempt　to　rush　the　door。　The　killers　knew　that　Pitt　had　entered　and　was　somewhere　on　the　floor　of　the　hangar。　Realizing　their　intended　quarry　had　knowingl