cc.floodtide-第75部分

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ngs　without　scratching　the　paint　on　the　hull。　Then　he　dropped　down　a　ladder　to　the　catwalk；　jumped　onto　the　wharf　and　began　looping　mooring　lines　around　a　pair　of　rusty　bollards。
　The　guard　came　out　of　his　shack；　unlocked　the　gate　and　rushed　up　to　the　shantyboat。　He　cautiously　eyed　Romberg；　who　acted　happy　to　see　him。　The　guard　looked　Asian　but　he　spoke　with　a　West　Coast　accent。　He　was　a　good　four　inches　taller　than　Giordino　but　much　thinner。　He　wore　a　baseball　cap　and　World　War　II　pilot's　sunglasses。
　〃You　must　leave。　This　is　a　private　dock。　The　owners　do　not　allow　boats　to　moor　here。〃
　〃Ah　cain't　help　it；〃　Giordino　moaned。　〃Man　engine　died　on　me。　Just　give　me　twenty　minutes；　and　Ah'll　have　it　fixed。〃
　The　guard　was　not　to　be　refused。　He　began　untying　the　lines。　〃You　must　leave。〃
　Giordino　walked　over　and　grasped　the　guard's　wrist　in　an　iron　grip。　〃Qin　Shang　will　not　be　happy　when　I　report　your　offensive　behavior　to　one　of　his　inspectors。〃
　The　guard　looked　at　Giordino　queerly。　〃Qin　Shang？　Who　the　hell　is　Qin　Shang？　I　was　hired　by　the　Butterfield　Freight　Corporation。〃
　Now　it　was　Giordino's　turn　to　make　a　queer　expression。　He　unconsciously　glanced　over　the　side　into　the　water　where　he'd　last　seen　Pitt's　air　bubbles　and　wondered　if　they'd　made　a　big　mistake。　〃You　were　hired　to　do　what？　Keep　crows　off　the　corn？〃
　〃No；〃　said　the　guard　defensively；　unable　to　shake　Giordino's　grip　and　contemplating　whether　he　was　dealing　with　a　madman　and　should　draw　his　bolstered　revolver。　〃Butterfield　uses　the　old　buildings　to　store　furniture　and　equipment　from　their　offices　around　the　country。　My　job；　and　the　guards　who　work　the　other　shifts；　is　to　keep　vandals　off　the　property。〃
　Giordino　released　the　guard's　arm。　He　was　far　too　wise　and　cynical　to　fall　for　the　lie。　He　was　almost　thrown　off　the　track　in　the　first　moments　of　the　conversation。　But　now　he　knew　with　solid　conviction　there　was　more　to　the　abandoned　sugar　mill　at　Bartholomeaux　than　met　the　eye。
　〃Tell　me；　friend。　Would　it　be　worth　a　bottle　of　Black　Label　Jack　Daniel's　whiskey　to　let　me　stay　here　just　long　enough　to　fix　my　engine？〃
　〃I　don't　think　so；〃　the　guard　said　testily　as　he　rubbed　his　wrist。
　Giordino　fell　back　into　his　back　country　accent。　〃Look；　Ah'm　in　a　bind。　If　Ah　just　drift　out　in　the　river　while　workin'　down　on　the　engine；　Ah　could　be　busted　in　two　by　a　towboat。〃
　〃That's　not　my　problem。〃
　〃Two　bottles　of　Black　Label　Jack　Daniel's　whiskey？〃
　A　sly　look　gleamed　in　the　guard's　eyes。　〃Four　bottles。〃
　Giordino　stuck　out　his　hand。　〃Done。〃　Then　he　motioned　through　the　door　leading　inside　the　shantyboat　from　the　veranda。　e　on　board　and　Ah'll　put　'em　in　a　sack　for　ya。〃
　The　guard　looked　apprehensively　at　Romberg。　〃Does　he　bite？〃
　〃Only　if　ya　put　your　hand　in　his　mouth　and　step　on　his　jaws。〃
　
　Unwittingly　drawn　into　the　web；　the　guard　stepped　around　Romberg　and　entered　the　shantyboat's　main　cabin。　It　was　the　last　thing　he　remembered　until　he　woke　up　four　hours　later。　Giordino　hit　him　on　the　nape　of　the　neck。　Not　a　judo　chop；　but　a　huge　fist　swung　like　a　club　that　sent　the　guard　crashing　heavily　to　the　deck；　out　for　the　long　count。
　
　Ten　minutes　later；　Giordino；　wearing　the　guard's　uniform；　pants　and　sleeves　too　long　by　inches　but　the　shirt　straining　at　its　buttons　as　his　chest　and　shoulders　stretched　the　seams；　stepped　out　on　the　shantyboat's　veranda。　With　the　guard's　baseball　cap　pulled　down　over　the　old；　wide…style　sunglasses；　Giordino　leisurely　walked　to　the　gate；　closed　it　behind　him　and　pretended　to　lock　it。　Then　he　went　inside　the　guard　shack　and　sat　in　front　of　the　television　set　while　his　eyes　roamed　the　grounds　of　the　sugar　mill；　picking　out　the　security　cameras　placed　about　the　property。
　
　Pitt　sank　to　the　bottom　before　swimming　up　and　under　the　flat　bottom　of　the　barge。　He　was　surprised　to　encounter　the　bed　of　the　bayou　at　thirty　feet　beside　the　wharf…far　deeper　than　was　necessary　for　barge　traffic。　The　depth　must　have　been　dredged　to　accept　a　deep…hulled　ship。
　
　It　was　as　if　a　cloud　had　passed　over　the　sun。　The　shadow　of　the　barge　cut　off　nearly　fifty　percent　of　the　light　from　the　surface。　The　water　was　an　opaque　green　and　filled　with　plant　particles。　He　swam　fast　and　had　hardly　passed　under　the　barge　when　a　vague　shape　appeared　in　the　gloom　and　stopped　his　progress。
　
　Hanging　from　the　keel　of　the　barge　was　an　immense　cylindrical　tube　with　tapered　ends。　Pitt　instantly　recognized　what　it　was；　and　his　heart　began　to　pump　faster　with　excitement。　The　size　and　regular　shape　was　similar　to　the　hull　of　an　early　submarine。　He　swam　along　the　hull　slightly　above　it。　There　were　no　visible　ports；　and　he　could　see　that　it　was　attached　to　the　barge　by　a　system　of　rails。　These；　Pitt　immediately　determined；　were　used　to　move　the　submerged　container　from　the　seagoing　ship　to　the　barge　and　back　again。
　
　He　estimated　the　size　of　the　underwater　container　at　ninety　feet　in　length　by　nearly　fifteen　feet　in　diameter　by　ten　feet　high。　Without　being　able　to　peer　inside；　Pitt　quickly　realized　that　it　was　capable　of　housing　anywhere　from　two　hundred　to　four　hundred　people；　depending　on　how　tightly　they　were　packed　inside。
　
　Quickly；　he　swam　around　the　vessel　to　the　other　side；　looking　for　a　hatch　connecting　with　an　underwater　passage　from　the　vessel　to　inside　the　breakwater　that　anchored　the　wharf。　He　found　it　thirty　feet　aft　of　the　bow；　a　small　watertight　tunnel　just　large　enough　for　two　people　to　pass　through　at　the　same　time。
　
　Pitt　could　find　no　way　to　enter；　certainly　not　from　the　water。　He　was　about　to　give　up　and　swim　back　to　the　shantyboat　when　he　spotted　a　small　round　portal　embedded　in　the　stone　breakwater。　The　portal　was　above　the　surface　of　the　water　but　just　below　the　planking　on　the　wharf。　It　was　covered　by　an　iron　door　that　was　secured　by　three　dog　levers。　Its　purpose　eluded　him。　A　sewer　outlet？　A　drainage　pipe？　A　maintenance　tunnel？　A　closer　inspection　of　the　lettering　stamped　by　the　manufacturer　on　the　iron　door　cleared　up　the　mystery。
　
　MANUFACTURED　BY　THE　ACADIA　CHUTE　PANY　NEW　ORLEANS。　LOUISIANA　
　
　It　was　a　chute　that　was　used　when　the　mill　was　in　operation　to　load　the　raw　sugar　onto　barges。　The　old　wharf　had　been　demolished　and　a　new　one　constructed　that　was　five　feet　higher　to　acmodate　the　passage　of　illegal　immigrants　under　the　water　without　being　visible　on　the　surface。　The　newer；　raised　wharf　now　sat　a　good　foot　over　the　early　loading　chute。
　
　The　dog　levers　were　badly　rusted　and　probably　hadn't　been　opened　in　eighty　years。　But　the　bayou　water　did　not　have　the　salt　content　of　the　sea。　The　corrosion　was　not　deep。　Pitt　gripped　a　dog　lever　with　both　hands；　positioned　his　feet　against　the　upper　planks　of　the　wharf　and　pulled　downward。
　
　To　his　delight；　the　lever　gave　and　moved　an　inch　on　the　first　try。　The　next　heave　took　it　three　inches；　then　it　turned　more　easily。　Finally；　he　twisted　it　out　against　its　stop。　The　second　dog　lever　came　slightly　easier；　but　the　third　fought　him　every　inch　of　the　way。　Gasping　and　panting；　Pitt　rested　for　a　minute　before　pulling　the　door　open。　It　fought　too。　He　had　to　put　both　feet　against　the　breakwater　and　pull　with　every　ounce　of　strength　he　had　left。
　
　At　last　the　iron　door　grudgingly　squeaked　open　on　its　rusting　hinges。　Pitt　peered　inside；　but　all　he　could　see　was　darkness。　He　turned　and　swam　under　the　wharf；　stopping　just　before　he　reached　the　shantyboat's　hull。　He　called　up　softly。　〃Al；　are　you　there？〃
　His　only　response　came　from　Romberg。　Curious；　the　hound　strolled　onto　the　wharf　and　sniffed　through　the　cracks　in　the　planking　just　above　Pitt's　head。　〃Not　you。　I　want　Giordino。〃
　Romberg　began　wagging　his　tail。　He　stretched　out　his　front　paws；　and　lay　down　on　the　wharf　and　playfully　tried　to　dig　through　the　wooden　planking。
　Inside　the　guard　shack；　Giordino　turned　every　minute　or　two　and　stared　at　the　shantyboat　for　an　indication　of　Pitt's　return。　Seeing　Romberg　pawing　and　scratching　on　the　wharf　for　something　underneath　made　him　curious。　He　slowly　walked　through　the　gate　and　stopped　by　the　dog。　〃What　are　you　sniffing　at？〃　he　asked。
　〃Me！〃　Pitt　whispered　through　the　planking。
　〃Jeez！〃　muttered　Giordino。　〃For　a　second　I　thought　Romberg　could　talk。〃
　Pitt　stared　up　between　the　cracks　in　the　planks。　〃Where　did　you　get　the　uniform？〃
　〃The　guard　decided　to　take　a　nap；　and　charitable；　benevolent　fellow　that　I　am；　I　offered　to　stand　his　watch。〃
　〃Even　with　my　limited　view　I　can　tell　it's　a　lousy　fit。〃
　〃You　might　be　interested　to　learn；〃　said　Giordino；　facing　away　from　the　sugar　mill　and　rubbing　a　two…day…whiskered　chin　to　cover　his　lip　movements；　〃this　place　is　owned　by　the　Butterfield　Freight　Corporation；　not　Qin　Shang　Maritime。　Also；　the　guard　may　have　Asian　ancestry；　but　I　figure　he　went　to　school　in　either　L。A。　or　San　Francisco。〃
　〃Butterfield　has　to　be　a　corporate　front　used　by　Shang　to　move　people　in　and　out　of　here。　There's　a　submerged　vehicle　connected　to　the　bottom　of　the　barge　that　has　the　capacity　to　transport　close　to　four　hundred　bodies。〃
　〃Then　we've　found　the　mother　lode。〃
　〃We'll　know　shortly；　just　as　soon　as　I　get　inside。〃
　〃How？〃　asked　Giordino　simply。
　〃I　found　a　chute　that　was　used　to　load　sugar　onto　barges。　It　appears　to　lead　toward　the　main　building。〃
　〃Watch　your　step　and　make　it　fast。　I　don't　know　how　much　longer　I　can　fool　whoever　is　monitoring　me。〃
　〃They　have　a　camera　on　you？〃　asked　Pitt。
　〃I've　counted　three　and　suspect　there　may　be　a　few　more　around　the　perimeter　I　haven't　spotted　yet；〃　Giordino　answered。
　〃Can　you　drop　my　forty…five　over　the　side？　I　don't　want　to　go　in　naked。〃
　〃I'll　lower　it　over　the　side。〃
　〃You're　okay；　Al。　I　don't　care　what　they　say　about　you；〃　said　Pitt。
　〃If　I　hear　a　gunshot；〃　said　Giordino　as　he　walked　toward　the　shantyboat；　〃Romberg　and　I　will　e　running。〃
　〃That　should　be　a　sight　to　behold。〃
　Giordino　entered　the　shantyboat；　took　Pitt's　Colt　automatic　and　shiftily　lowered　it　on　a　string　through　a　window　until　it　hung　just　above　the　water　surface　opposite　the　wharf。　He　felt　a　sharp　tug　on　the　line　and　the　gun　was　gone。　Then　he　slowly　made　his　way　back　to　the　guard　shack；　where　he　unholstered　the　impressive　Wesson　Firearms　。357　Magnum　revolver　that　he'd　taken　of