el.the miko-第54部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


nation。
　After　the　third　aborted　attempt　to　steal　into　Alix　Logan's　apartment　at　night；　Bristol　reluctantly　abandoned　his　first　plan。　You　had　to　be　plenty　flexible　in　situations　like　these；　he　told　himself　continually。　Every　plan　had　to　have　a　backup；　and　each　backup　had　to　have　its　own　backup。　That　was　the　only　way　to　be　successful；　because　no　situation　involving　people　was　ever　static。　You　make　that　assumption　and　you　might　as　well　go　into　some　other　line　of　work。
　So　Bristol　put　into　effect　a　plan　he　had　hoped　never　to　use。　He　loved　to　fish；　he　loved　being　on　the　water。　But　being　in　it；　far　out　at　sea；　was　something　else　again。
　Still；　he　had　rented　the　scuba　equipment；　had　himself　checked　out　by　a　pimply　boy　of　no　more　than　eighteen；　the　shop's　pro。　He　was　a　mite　rusty…it　had　been　some　five　years　since　he'd　learned　his　diving…but　the　basics　one　never　forgot；　and　after　two　hours　of　intensive　work　in　the　pink…tiled　swimming　pool　of　the　beachfront　hotel　down　the　street　from　the　shop；　the　pimply　boy　tapped　him　on　the　shoulder　arid　gave　him　the　thumbs…up　signal。
　Now　Bristol　had　taken　his　gear　onto　his　boat；　which　lay　rocking　in　the　oily　swells　dockside。　He　double…checked　all　his　gear　as　he　had　been　trained　to　do　and　was　bent　over　fiddling　with　the　regulator　when　he　spied　Alix　out　of　the　corner　of　his　eye　coining　down　the　dock　with　the　Red　Monster　just　behind　her。
　Bristol's　heart　beat　faster　as　he　saw　her　turn　in　toward　her　small　boat。　No　pleasure　cruise　this　afternoon　with　the　same　round　of　vacuous　friends。　It　was　just　her　and　Red。
　The　Red　Monster　freed　the　aft　and　bow　lines　and　stepped　quickly　into　the　rocking　boat；　his　topsiders　squeaking。　Alix　already　had　the　engine　throttled；　blue　haze　of　fumes　rising　from　the　bubbling　aft　pipe。　She　turned　the　wheel　over　hard；　and　they　began　to　glide　out　of　the　harbor。
　Bristol；　his　pulse　still　racing；　waited　patiently　before　firing　his　own　engine。　He　tugged　at　the　bill　of　his　beaten…up　cap　and　headed　out　after　them；　squinted　his　eyes　against　the　fierce　glare　of　sunlight　dancing　off　the　water。　With　his　free　hand　he　strung　up　a　pair　of　dark　glasses；　wrapping　the　curled　ends　of　the　wire　temples　around　his　ears。
　This　plan　was　far　simpler　than　his　first　one　but　it　was　also　far　more　terrifying　to　him。　It　had　taken　him　six　months　to　work　up　the　courage　to　take　his　first　scuba　lessons　and　finally　only　direct　orders　from　above　had　set　him　in　motion。　He　was　a　brave　man　in　most　respects。　But　not　this。
　His　hands　shook　so　much　that　he　dropped　the　speargun　twice　after　he　had　unwrapped　it　from　its　concealing　cocoon。　This　was　not　an　item　he　had　rented。　In　fact；　he　had　made　a　point　of　telling　the　salesman　at　the　scuba　shop　that　he　had　an　abhorrence　of　such　things　when　the　man　had　asked　if　there　was　any　other　item　he　wanted　to　rent。
　Bristol　had　bought　the　speargun　in　a　shop　in　Boca　Chica　early　one　morning　while　Alix　Logan　still　tossed　in　her　bed。　He　paid　cash；　dressed　in　a　ridiculous　seersucker　suit　with　an　old…fashioned　straw　hat　atop　his　head　and　a　pair　of　dimestore　glasses　with　mirror　lenses　masking　his　face　nicely；　blending　right　in　with　the　bushy　mustache　he　had　glued　on　for　the　occasion。
　On　his　way　back　south　he　had　his　pick　of　three　chemical　plants；　most　engaged　in　retrieving　nitrates　from　guano；　and　choosing　one；　he　broke　in　easily　and　took　what　he　needed。　He　spent　the　rest　of　the　day　on　his　boat　in　distant　view　of　the　long　pleasure　craft　Alix　had　chosen　to　climb　aboard　that　day；　working　out　the　rest　of　his　plan。
　And　now　that　it　was　time　to　implement　it；　he　was　as　nervous　as　a　rookie　on　his　first　day　in　the　business。　It　didn't　look　good；　and　with　the　bulk　of　the　tanks　settled　between　his　shoulder　blades；　he　paused；　feet　planted　and　spread　on　the　rolling　deck；　trying　to　slow　his　breathing　and　calm　his　racing　pulse。
　But　all　the　time　his　gaze　ran　away　with　him；　slipping　like　an　uncontrollable　kid　over　the　side；　drinking　in　the　long；　deep　swells　and　the　infinite　depth　through　which　he　would　soon　have　to　navigate。　He　put　his　hands　out　in　front　of　him；　saw　the　tremor　there；　and　said；　〃The　hell　with　it！〃　out　loud　as　if　he　were　blowing　carbon　dioxide　from　his　system。　He　bent　and　retrieved　the　speargun；　carefully　examining　the　wickedly　barbed　flechette　at　its　tip。
　He　stuck　two　sticks　of　shark　repellent　into　his　weighted　belt；　double…checked　his　wrist　pass；　working　out　the　realignment　of　vectors　now　that　Alix's　small　boat　had　drifted　a　bit。　He'd　have　to　remember　that　and　not　rely　solely　on　the　pass。
　He　went　to　the　railing　of　his　boat　and　slipped　on　his　powerful　fiberglass　fins。　Then；　bringing　his　regulator　over　his　head　and　up　to　his　mouth；　he　made　certain　the　line　was　absolutely　clear。　Mentally　he　ticked　off　the　list　of　items　the　pimply　kid　had　gone　over　with　him；　partly　for　safety　and　partly　to　keep　his　mind　occupied　and　off　the　abyss　already　lapping　at　his　ankles。
　He　reached　for　his　mask；　washed　it　with　sea　water；　and　then　spat　heavily　into　it；　smearing　the　liquid　around　so　that　the　mask　would　not　cloud　up。　Fitting　it　over　his　face；　grabbing　the　faceplate；　his　mind　a　frozen　blank；　he　slid　over　the　side。
　The　coolness　of　the　sea　engulfed　him。　Even　through　the　protection　of　the　blue　rubber　scuba　suit　he　could　feel　the　suck　of　the　cold；　rising　from　the　ocean's　depths　like　a　physical　creature。
　Steady；　schmuck；　he　told　himself。　The　last　thing　you　need　now　is　for　your　imagination　to　run　away　with　you。　You're　safe　and　warm　in　your　booties　and　mommie's　ing　soon　to　tuck　you　in。
　Bristol　hung　in　the　blue…green　depths；　going　nowhere　until　he　had　settled　his　breathing　and　had　gotten　used　again　to　the　peculiar　form　of　breathing　one　was　obliged　to　use　underwater。
　Strands　of　sunlight　filtered　obliquely　down　from　above；　giving　him　the　odd　sensation　of　being　in　a　cathedral；　and　he　thought　of　the　old　days　in　Hell's　Kitchen　before　his　father　had　been　slaughtered　in　the　filth　and　darkness　of　a　neighborhood　alleyway。
　Then　he　made　the　mistake　of　looking　down　where　the　bands　of　light　faded　out　and　could　not　penetrate；　blacker　than　anything　he　had　ever　seen　and　he　realized　what　was　below　him；　down；　down；　down。
　Convulsively；　he　made　himself　look　at　his　pass　and　orienting　himself；　he　set　off　in　the　direction　of　Alix　Logan's　boat。　He　swam　slowly；　almost　lazily；　but　that　appearance　was　deceiving　for　his　enormous　fins　propelled　him　through　the　water　in　great　long　kicks。　He　was　in　excellent　shape　and　he　had　no　trouble；　even　with　the　tidal　surge　that　could　potentially　bee　a　diver's　worst　enemy；　creating　a　nausea　so　strong　it　could　turn　even　the　strongest　diver　into　a　mewling　baby。
　A　third　of　the　way　there　he　forced　himself　toward　the　surface　in　order　to　take　a　visual　fix。　He　did　it　in　less　than　three　seconds；　up　and　down　again　into　the　depths。　Checking　his　pass　again；　he　saw　that　he　was　six　or　seven　degrees　off　and　adjusted　his　course。　He　plowed　on；　using　the　half…leg　kick　the　pimply　kid　had　told　him　was　more　economical　and　less　taxing　over　a　long　haul　than　the　one　he　had　been　originally　taught。
　He　had　just　e　down　from　his　second　visual　and　had　again　corrected　his　course　slightly　when　his　peripheral　vision　picked　up　the　shadow　almost　directly　below　him。　Immediately　he　ceased　his　kicking　and　hung　motionless　in　the　water。　If　it　was　a　shark　he　did　not　want　its　acute　vibrational　sense　picking　him　up。
　But　now　ahead　of　him　he　could　dimly　make　out　the　bulk　of　the　underside　of　Alix's　boat　and　below　that　the　taut　fishing　line。　In　reality　he　could　not　actually　see　the　line　but　he　was　certain　it　was　there。　The　Red　Monster　had　caught　a　big　one。　And　that　was　what　Bristol　saw。
　The　fish　was　hooked　solidly；　its　body　whipsawing　back　and　forth。　And　that　was　the　reason　for　the　shadow　cruising　below　him。
　Silently；　Bristol　cursed　the　Red　Monster。　But　now；　as　he　glanced　back　downward；　he　saw　how　close　the　shark　was　to　him。　He　was　no　expert　but　he　knew　a　basking　shark　from　a　blue；　a　nurse　from　a　tiger。
　This　one　was　about　twelve　feet　long　and；　from　its　marking；　was　surely　a　tiger　shark；　one　of　the　flesh　eaters。　It　was　there　now　because　it　could　sense　the　blood　drooling　from　the　fish　fighting　the　line　more　than　a　hundred　yards　away。
　Bristol　watched　the　spotted　light　play　along　the　rough　prehistoric　hide　of　the　creature　as　it　wound　its　way　upward。　He　could　not　tell　whether　the　thing　had　sensed　him　or　not　but　he　did　his　best　to　parallel　its　course；　keeping　on　top　of　it。　At　a　certain　point　that　would　have　to　end　and　then　he　would　have　to　see　what　the　shark　did。
　The　tiger　rose　lazily；　almost　indifferently；　moving　so　slowly　Bristol　could　make　out　the　score　lines　crisscrossing　its　flank。　Then；　abruptly；　it　veered　to　port；　launching　itself　through　the　green　void　like　a　missile。　It　turned；　and　now　Bristol　had　no　doubt。　It　had　seen　him。
　His　heart　pounding　painfully　in　his　chest；　he　willed　his　body　to　be　still。　He　hung；　suspended；　watching　the　tiny　green　plankton　drift　by　him　in　oblique　sheets。　A　strand　of　seaweed。
　Food's　in　the　other　direction；　asshole。　He　spoke　silently　to　the　primitive　creature。　You　don't　want　any　part　of　me。　I'll　just　bash　your　pea　brain　back　into　your　spine。
　The　tiger　was　now　turned　so　that　it　was　head　on　to　him　and　they　faced　each　other　like　a　pair　of　gladiators　in　a　vast；　surging　arena　filled　with　awful　silence。　The　lens　of　the　sea　turned　it　monstrously　large。
　Against　all　logic；　it　moved　toward　him。　Not　swiftly　as　it　had　when　it　had　sensed　him；　but　cautiously。　After　all；　this　was　not　a　creature　in　distress；　its　senses　informed　it。　Yet　there　was　distress　；　and　blood　in　the　immediate　vicinity　and　the　shark　wanted　to　feed　unmolested。
　Though　Bristol　was　carrying　two　sticks　of　shark　repellent　he　had　little　faith　in　the　chemicals。　Still；　he　inched　his　right　hand　down　toward　his　belt。　Fleetingly　he　thought　of　the　speargun　but　quickly　rejected　that　course　of　action。　He　had　seen　too　many　shots　of　sharks　with　spears　through　their　brains　still　alive　and　attacking　and　he　wanted　no　part　of　that。　He　only　had　one　spear。
　The　tiger　was　very　close　now　and　Bristol　could　see　the　wicked　sickle…shaped　mouth　below　the　wide　apart　pig　eyes。　Pink　plankton　clung　to　its　bottle…shaped　snout　and　three　ramoras；　two　above　and　one　below；　mimicked　its　every　twist　and　turn。
　It　was　still　ing　on