cc.floodtide-第51部分

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ly　entered　the　trap　would　make　them　apprehensive　and　wary。
　
　With　no　place　to　go；　Pitt　quietly　cracked　both　rear　doors　on　the　Duesenberg；　peered　into　the　darkness　and　waited　for　his　assailants　to　make　the　next　move。
　
　He　tried　to　slow　his　breathing　to　hear　any　sounds　of　stealth；　but　all　his　ears　could　detect　was　the　beat　of　his　own　heart。　There　was　no　overpowering　sense　of　fright；　no　feeling　of　hopelessness；　only　a　slight　mist　of　fear　to　be　sure。　He　wouldn't　be　human　if　he　didn't　experience　a　degree　of　dread　at　being　a　target　for　two　professional　killers。　But　he　was　on　home　ground；　while　the　assassins　were　in　a　strange　environment。　If　they　were
　
　to　fulfill　their　mission　and　kill　him；　they　had　to　find　their　target　in　the　dark　amid　thirty　antique　automobiles　and　airplanes。　Whatever　advantage　they　had　before　Pitt　walked　in　the　hangar　was　lost。　And　what　they　didn't　know　was　that　he　was　armed　and　deadly。　All　Pitt　had　to　do　was　sit　it　out　in　the　back　of　the　　Duesenberg　and　wait　for　them　to　make　a　mistake。
　
　He　began　to　wonder　who　they　were　and　who　sent　them。　The　only　enemy　that　came　to　mind　whom　he　had　antagonized　in　the　past　few　weeks；　and　who　was　still　among　the　living；　had　to　be　Qin　Shang。　He　could　think　of　no　one　else　who　wanted　him　dead。　It　was　evident　to　him　the　Chinese　billionaire　nurtured　a　f　vindictive　streak。
　
　He　laid　the　shotgun　across　his　chest；　cupped　his　ears　and　listened。　The　hangar　was　as　quiet　as　a　crypt　at　midnight　in　the　middle　of　a　churchyard。　These　guys　were　good。　There　was　no　soft　patter　of　stockinged　or　bare　feet；　but　then　stockinged　or　　　bare　feet　did　not　make　noise　on　concrete　if　stepped　on　carefully。　They　were　probably　biding　their　time；　also　listening。　He　decided　against　the　old　movie　trick　of　throwing　something　against　a　wall　to　draw　their　fire。　Master　assassins　were　too　savvy　to　give　their　position　away　with　random　gunfire。
　
　One　minute　dragged　by；　two；　then　three…it　seemed　far　longer　than　that。　Time　seemed　to　flow　like　a　stream　of　molasses。　He　looked　up　and　saw　the　beam　of　a　red　laser　sweep　across　the　windshield　of　the　Duesenberg　and　move　on。　He　was　betting　his　assailants　were　beginning　to　wonder　if　he　might　have　slipped　out　of　the　hangar　and　escaped　the　trap。　There　was　no　way　of　knowing　when　Admiral　Sandecker；　backed　by　a　team　of　federal　marshals；　would　arrive　on　the　scene。　But　Pitt　was　prepared　to　wait　all　night　if　need　be　while　he　laid　there　waiting　i　for　a　sound　or　shadow　that　betrayed　movement。
　
　A　plan　began　to　form　in　his　mind。　He　normally　made　a　habit　　　of　removing　the　batteries　from　all　his　collector　cars　because　of　f　the　danger　of　creating　a　fire　from　an　electrical　short。　But　since　he　planned　on　driving　the　Duesenberg　when　he　returned　from　Orion　Lake；　Pitt　had　arranged　for　the　chief　mechanic　of　　NUMA's　fleet　of　vehicles；　who　was　entrusted　to　enter　the　hangar；　to　charge　a　battery　and　install　it　in　the　car。　It　now　struck　　　him　that　if　the　opportunity　presented　itself；　he　could　use　the　　headlights　of　the　Duesenberg　to　illuminate　the　floor　of　the　warehouse。　Prudently　keeping　his　eyes　locked　on　the　laser　beams　that　swept　around　the　hangar　like　tiny　guard…tower　lights　from　an　old　prison　movie；　he　silently　rolled　over　the　backrest　and　slipped　into　a　horizontal　position　on　the　front　seat。　Taking　a　calculated　gamble；　he　aimed　the　spotlight　on　the　outer　cowling　beside　the　steering　wheel　upward　until　the　lens　faced　in　the　general　direction　of　the　balcony　on　the　outside　of　his　apartment。　Then　he　raised　the　shotgun　over　the　upper　frame　of　the　windshield　and　switched　on　the　light。
　
　The　bright　beam　shot　aloft　and　pinpointed　a　figure　in　a　black　ninja　suit　with　a　hood　covering　the　head　and　face　crouched　at　the　balcony　railing　and　clutching　a　tactical　machine　pistol。　The　assassin's　hand　instinctively　flew　up　to　shield　his　eyes　from　the　unexpected　blinding　glare。　Pitt　barely　had　time　to　adjust　his　aim　before　firing　off　two　shots　and　blinking　out　the　light；　throwing　the　hangar　into　darkness　again。　The　twin　blast　from　the　shotgun　sounded　like　the　firing　of　a　cannon　inside　the　metal…walled　hangar。　A　surge　of　satisfaction　swept　through　him　as　he　heard　the　thud　of　a　body　against　the　concrete　floor。　Reckoning　the　second　assassin　would　be　expecting　him　to　hide　by　throwing　himself　under　the　car；　he　stretched　out　horizontal　on　the　wide　running　board　and　waited　for　a　hail　of　gunfire。　It　never　came。
　
　The　second　killer　failed　to　react　because　he　was　searching　for　Pitt　inside　an　antique　Putfman　coach　parked　at　one　side　of　the　hangar　on　a　pair　of　rails。　The　car　had　once　been　part　of　the　crack　express　train　called　the　Manhattan　Limited　that　ran　between　New　York　and　Quebec；　Canada；　between　1912　and　1914。　Pitt　had　acquired　the　old　coach　after　finding　it　in　a　cave。　The　killer　barely　perceived　the　brief　flash　of　light　through　a　glass　window　of　the　Pullman　before　hearing　the　explosive　roar　of　the　shotgun。　By　the　time　he　rushed　to　the　rear　platform；　the　hangar　had　been　plunged　back　into　blackness。　He　was　too　late　to　hear　the　impact　on　the　floor　of　his　acplice's　body　or　know　what　target　to　fire　at。　He　crouched　behind　a　massive　Daimler　convertible　and　panned　his　night…vision　goggles　around　and　beneath　the　maze　of　parked　cars。　As　he　peered　through　the　binocular　eyepiece　connected　to　a　single　objective　lens　that　was　attached　to　his　head　with　straps；　giving　him　the　look　of　a　robotic　Cyclops；　the　pitch…black　interior　of　the　hangar　appeared　bathed　in　a　green　light　that　distinguished　surrounding　objects。　Twenty　feet　ahead　of　him　he　spotted　the　body　of　his　acplice　crumpled　on　the　cold；　hard　floor；　a　pool　of　blood　spreading　around　the　head。　Any　confusion　as　to　why　their　prey　had　willingly　and　knowingly　walked　into　the　trap　evaporated。　He　now　realized　Pitt　had　somehow　armed　himself　with　a　weapon。　They　were　warned　that　their　target　was　a　dangerous　man；　and　yet　they　had　still　badly　underestimated　him。
　
　It　was　essential　for　Pitt　to　make　a　move　while　he　had　an　advantage；　and　move　as　quickly　as　possible　before　the　remaining　killer　pinpointed　his　location。　Pitt　made　no　attempt　at　stealth。　Speed　was　what　counted。　He　scrambled　around　the　front　end　of　the　cars　toward　the　entrance　door；　keeping　low　and　using　the　wheels　and　tires　to　shield　his　movement　from　the　view　of　a　night　scope　probing　the　floor　beneath。　He　reached　the　door；　threw　it　open　and　fell　back　behind　a　car　as　bullets　sped　through　the　opening　into　the　night　outside。　Then　Pitt　crawled　along　the　wall　of　the　hangar　until　he　could　huddle　against　the　wheel　of　a　1939　540…K　Mercedes…Benz　sedan。
　
　The　move　was　foolhardy　and　reckless；　but　he　only　paid　a　small　price。　Pitt　could　feel　blood　streaming　from　his　left　forearm　where　the　flesh　had　been　nicked　by　a　bullet。　Had　the　remaining　assassin　been　given　five　long　seconds　to　divine　Pitt's　intention；　he　would　have　never　rushed　headlong　toward　the　door　in　the　certain　belief　that　his　quarry　had　tried　to　escape　from　the　hangar。
　
　Pitt　heard　the　soft　drumming　of　supple　rubber　soles　against　concrete。　Then　a　figure　dressed　from　the　top　of　the　head　to　his　feet　in　black　became　outlined　in　the　doorway　by　the　dim　light　outside　on　the　electrical　pole。　All's　fair　in　love　and　war；　Pitt　thought；　as　he　pulled　the　trigger　and　cut　down　the　killer　with　a　shotgun　blast　through　the　back　below　the　right　shoulder。
　
　The　arms　flew　upward　and　outward；　his　tactical　machine　pistol　clattering　to　the　walkway　in　front　of　the　hangar。　The　killer　stood　there　a　moment；　tore　off　his　night…vision　goggles　and　slowly　turned。　He　stared　disbelievingly　into　Pitt's　face　as　the　hunted　approached　the　hunter　and　saw　the　muzzle　of　vicious…looking　shotgun　aimed　at　his　chest。　The　shocked　realization　of　his　deadly　blunder；　the　awareness　that　his　death　was　only　seconds　away；　seemed　more　to　anger　than　frighten　him。　The　bitter；　stunned　expression　in　his　now　visible　eyes　gave　Pitt　a　chill。　It　was　not　the　look　of　a　man　afraid　to　die；　it　was　the　desperate　look　of　a　man　who　had　failed　his　mission。　He　staggered　toward　Pitt　in　a　hopeless　gesture　of　tenacity；　the　lips　that　were　faintly　visible　through　the　open　slit　in　his　black　hood　hideous　in　a　blood…flecked　snarl。
　
　Pitt　did　not　send　another　burst　from　the　shotgun　into　the　assassin's　body。　Nor　did　he　use　his　gun　as　a　club。　He　stepped　forward　and　lashed　out　with　one　foot；　kicking　the　man's　legs　out　from　under　him　and　sending　him　crashing　heavily　to　the　ground。
　
　Picking　up　the　killer's　weapon；　Pitt　did　not　immediately　recognize　it　as　Chinese…manufactured；　but　he　was　impressed　with　its　advanced　innovations：　a　plastic　frame　with　integral　electro…optics；　a　fifty…round　magazine　in　line　with　the　bore；　and　cased；　telescoped　cartridges　with　the　ballistics　of　a　rifle　shell。　It　was　a　handgun　for　the　twenty…first　century。
　
　He　stepped　back　inside　the　hangar　and　switched　on　the　lights　again。　Despite　the　harrowing　ordeal；　Pitt　felt　strangely　unaffected。　He　walked　the　aisle　separating　the　cars　until　he　stood　below　the　balcony　of　his　apartment。　Then　he　stared　down　at　the　second　killer's　body。　The　partner　of　the　man　he　dropped　in　the　doorway　was　as　dead　as　a　rat　in　a　sprung　trap。　One　of　Pitt's　shots　had　missed；　but　the　other　had　taken　off　the　top　of　the　killer's　head。　Not　a　sight　to　remember　at　the　dinner　table。
　
　Wearily；　Pitt　climbed　a　circular　metal　staircase　and　entered　his　apartment。　There　was　no　sense　in　calling　911。　He　expected　federal　marshals　to　e　bounding　up　the　road　any　minute。　Methodically；　he　rinsed　a　glass　with　water；　shook　it　partially　dry　and　inverted　it　in　a　bowl　of　salt。　Then　he　added　crushed　ice；　a　sliced　lime；　and　two　shots　from　a　bottle　of　Don　Julio　silver　tequila。　Relaxing　in　a　leather　sofa；　he　savored　the　drink　like　a　thirst…stricken　bedouin　who　staggered　onto　an　oasis。
　
　Five　minutes　and　a　second　tequila　later；　Admiral　Sandecker　arrived　with　a　team　of　marshals。　Pitt　came　down　to　the　hangar　floor　and　met　them；　drink　in　hand。　〃Good　evening；　Admiral；　always　good　to　see　you。〃
　
　Sandecker　grunted　something　appropriate　and　then　nodded　at　the　body　beneath　the　apartment。　〃You　really　must　leam　to　pick　up　after　yourself。〃　The　voice　was　caustic；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　the　concern　in　his　eyes。
　
　Pitt　smiled　and　shrugged。　〃The　world　needs　murderers　like　it　needs　cancer。〃