alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第36部分

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he　stage　and　marvelled　at　her　magnificent　vitality；　it　now　seemed　strange　to　me　that　she　should　go　under　so　easily。　But　her　vitality　had　really　been　a　manifestation　of　a　nervous　energy：　she　had　little　of　the　physical　resources　necessary　to　cope　with　a　situation　like　this；　and　I　had　frequently　to　remind　myself　that　she　was　an　elderly　woman。　Not　that　any　such　reminder　was　needed　when　one　saw　her　face：　it　was　haggard　and　lined　and　old。
　
　But　worried　though　I　was　about　my　patients；　Jackstraw　was　even　more　deeply　concerned　with　the　weather。　The　temperature　had　been　steadily　rising　for　many　hours　now；　the　moaning　ululation　of　the　ice…cap　wind；　which　had　been　absent　for　over　two　days；　was　increasing　in　intensity　with　every　hour　that　passed；　and　the　skies　above　were　dark　and　heavy　with　black　drifting　clouds　of　snow。　And　when；　just　after　midnight；　the　wind…speed　passed　fifteen　miles　an　hour；　the　wind　began　to　pick　up　the　drift　off　the　ice…cap。
　
　I　knew　what　Jackstraw　was　afraid　of；　though　I　myself　had　never　experienced　it。　I　had　heard　of　the　katabatic　winds　of　Greenland；　the　equivalent　of　the　feared　Alaskan　wllliwaws。　When　great　masses　of　air　in　the　heart　of　the　plateau　were　cooled；　as　they　had　been　in　the　past　forty…eight　hours；　by　extremely　low　temperatures；　they　were　set　in　motion　by　a　gradient　wind　and　cascaded…there　was　no　other　word　for　it…downwards　from　the　edge　of　the　plateau　through　suitable　drainage　channels。　Set　in　motion　through　their　own　sheer　weight　of　cold　air；　these　gravity　or　drainage　winds；　slowly　wanned　by　the　friction　and　pression　of　their　descent；　could　reach　a　hurricane　force　of　destructive　violence　in　which　nothing　could　live。
　
　And　all　the　signs；　all　the　conditions　for　a　gravity　storm　were　there。　The　recent　extreme　cold；　the　…rising　wind；　the　rising　temperature；　the　outward　flowing　direction　of　the　wind；　the　dark　star…obscuring　clouds　scudding　by　overhead…there　could　be　no　mistaking　it；　Jackstraw　declared。　I　had　never　known　him　to　be　wrong　about　Greenland　weather；　I　didn't　believe　him　to　be　wrong　now；　and　when　Jackstraw　became　nervous　it　was　time　for　even　the　most　optimistic　to　start　worrying。　And　I　was　worried　all　right。
　
　We　drove　the　tractor　to　its　limit；　and　on　the　slight　downward　slope…we　had　changed　direction　by　this　time　and　were　heading　due　south…west　for　Uplavnik…we　were　making　very　good　time　indeed。　But　by　four　o'clock　in　the　morning；　when　we　were；　I　reckoned；　not　more　than　sixty　miles　from　Uplavnik；　we　ran　into　the　sastrugi　and　were　forced　to　slow　down。
　
　The　sastrugi；　regular　undulations　in　the　frozen　snow；　were　the　devil　on　tractors；　especially　elderly　machines　like　the　Citroen。　Caused　by　raking　winds；　symmetrical　as　the　waves　in　an　eighteenth…century　sailing　print；　hard　on　the　crest　and　soft　in　the　trough；　they　made　progress　possible　only　by　slowing　down　to　a　disheartening　crawl。　Even　so　the　Citroen　and　the　sledges　behind　rolled　and　pitched　like　ships　in　a　heavy　seaway；　the　headlights　one　moment　reaching　up　into　the　lowering　darkness　of　the　sky；　the　next　dipping　to　illuminate　the　barred　white　and　shadowed　black　of　the　sastrugi　immediately　ahead。　Sometimes　it　gave　way　to　deceptively　clear　patches…deceptively；　for　snow　had　obviously　fallen　here　recently　or　been　carried　down　from　the　plateau；　and　we　were　reduced　to　low　gear　to　make　any　headway　at　all　on　it。
　
　Shortly　before　eight　o'clock　in　the　morning　Jackstraw　brought　the　Citroen　to　a　halt；　and　as　the　roar　of　the　big　engine　died　the　deep　moaning　of　the　wind；　a　wind　carrying　with　it　a　rising　wall　of　ice　and　snow；　swept　in　to　take　its　place。　Jackstraw　had　drawn　up　broadside　on　to　the　wind　and　the　slope　of　the　hill　and　I　jumped　down　to　rig　up　a　canvas　shelter　extending　out　from　the　cabin：　it　was　nothing　elaborate；　just　a　triangular　sheet　of　proofed　canvas　attached　to　the　top　of　the　cabin　and　the　cleat　of　a　caterpillar　track　on　its　vertical　side；　with　its　apex　stretched　out　to　a　spike　hammered　into　the　surface　of　the　ice…cap：　there　was　no　room　for　us　all　within　the　cabin　at　meal…times；　I　wanted　some　protection　when　we　kept　our　8　a。m。　radio　schedule　with　Hillcrest；　and；　in　particular；　it　was　time　that　Zagero　and　Levin　had　some　relief　from　their　sufferings。　They　had　ridden　all　night　on　the　tractor　sled；　under　the　guard　of　either　Jackstraw　or　myself；　and　though　the　temperature　was　now　only　a　few　degrees　below　zero　and　though　they　were　sheltering　under　a　mound　of　clothing；　nevertheless　they　must　have　spent　a　miserable　night。
　
　Breakfast；　such　as　it　was；　was　waiting　and　ready　to　be　eaten　as　soon　as　the　tractor　had　stopped；　but　I　had　little　appetite　for　it：　it　seemed　to　me　I　had　forgotten　what　sleep　was　like；　I　had　had　none　for　almost　three　days；　I　was　living　now　in　a　permanent　state　of　physical　and　mental　exhaustion　and　it　was　being　almost　impossible　to　concentrate；　to　think　of　the　hundred　and　one　things　that　had　to　be　thought　of　all　the　time。　More　than　once　I　caught　myself　nodding　and　dozing　off　over　my　cup　of　coffee；　and　it　was　only　with　a　conscious　effort　of　will　that　I　forced　myself　to　my　feet　to　keep　the　radio　schedule。　I　was　going　to　call　both　Hillcrest　and　our　base…Hillcrest　had　given　me　the　frequency　the　previous　evening。　I　decided　to　call　Hillcrest　first。
　
　We　got　through　without　any　difficulty；　although　Hillcrest　said　they　could　hear　me　only　very　faintly。　I　suspected　some　fault　on　the　generator　side；　for　our　receiver　was　powered　by　a　hundred…hour　battery　and　we　could　hear　Hillcrest's　voice　clearly。
　
　All　the　men　except　Mahler　were　gathered　round　me　during　the　transmission…they　seemed　to　find　a　peculiar　reassurance　in　another　voice…however　distant　and　disembodied　that　voice…and　even　Zagero　and　Levin　were　only　seven　or　eight　feet　away；　sitting　in　front　of　the　tractor　sled　with　their　feet　still　bound。　I　was　on　a　canvas　chair；　with　my　back　to　the　canvas　screen；　and　Corazzini　and　Brewster　were　sitting　on　the　tailboard；　the　canvas　curtains　drawn　behind　them　to　keep　the　heat　in　the　cabin。　The　Rev。　Smallwood　was　behind　me；　turning　the　generator　handle；　and　Jackstraw　a　few　feet　away；　watchful　as　ever；　the　cocked　rifle　ready　in　his　hand。
　
　〃Receiving　you　loud　and　clear；〃　I　said　to　Hillcrest。　My　hands　were　cupped　round　the　microphone　and　I　was　holding　it　close　to　my　mouth　to　cut　out　as　much　as　possible　of　the　background　noise　of　the　wind。　〃What　progress？〃　I　threw　the　receiver　switch　into　the　antenna；　and　Hillcrest's　voice　came　again。
　
　〃Great！〃　He　sounded　enthusiastic；　excited。　〃My　congratulations　to　your　learned　friend。　Works　like　a　charm　and　we're　going　like　a　bomb。　We　are　approaching　the　Vindeby　Nunataks　and　expect　to　be　through　by　this　afternoon。〃
　
　This　was　wonderful　news。　With　any　luck　he　would　be　up　with　us　late　in　the　evening　of　that　day；　and　we　would　have　the　moral　support　of　his　pany　and　the　even　more　important　technical　resources　of　everything　his　big　modern　Sno…Cat　could　offer。　And　Jackstraw　and　I　could　get　some　desperately　needed　sleep。　。。。　I　became　aware　that　Hillcrest　was　continuing；　his　voice　still　charged　with　the　same　suppressed　excitement。
　
　〃The　Admiralty　or　the　Government　or　whoever　it　is　have　loosened　up　at　last！　Brother；　you're　sitting　on　dynamite　and　you　don't　know　it。　You've　got　it　right　there　with　you　and　you　could　exchange　it　tomorrow　for　a　million　pounds　in　the　right　place。　No　wonder　the　Government　were　so　cagy；　no　wonder　they　knew　something　fishy　was　going　on　and　mounted　the　biggest　search　ever。　The　carrier　Triton's　going　to　collect　it　personally…〃
　
　I　threw　the　receiving　switch。
　
　〃For　heaven's　sake！〃　I　shouted　in　exasperation…an　exasperation；　I　was　dimly　aware；　shared　by　all　the　others　who　were　leaning　forward　to　hear　Hillcrest's　voice。　〃What　are　you　talking　about？　What　was　the　plane　carrying？　Over。〃
　
　〃Sorry。　It's　a　guided…missile　mechanism　of　such　advanced　design　and　so　top…secret　that　its　details；　I　gather；　are　known　only　to　a　handful　of　scientists　in　all　the　United　States。　It's　the　only　one　of　its　kind；　and　was　being　sent　to　Britain　for　study　under　the　recent　agreement　to　share　knowledge　on　atomic　weapons　and　guided　missiles。〃　Hillcrest's　voice　was　calm　now；　measured　and　sober。
　
　There　was　a　pause；　then　he　went　on；　slowly；　impressively。　〃I　understand　the　governments　concerned　are　prepared　to　go　any　lengths…any　lengths…to　secure　the　recovery　of　this　mechanism　and　prevent　its　falling　into　wrong　hands。〃
　
　There　was　another；　longer　pause：　Hillcrest；　clearly；　was　giving　me　an　opportunity　to　say　something；　but　I　just　didn't　know　what　to　say。　The　magnitude　of　the　entire　thing　took　my　breath　away；　temporarily　inhibited　all　thought　and　speech。　。　。　。　Hillcrest's　voice　was　ing　through　again：
　
　To　help　you　identify　this　mechanism；　Dr　Mason。　It's　camouflaged；　made　up　to　look　like　an　ebonite　and　metal　portable　radio　of　fairly　large　size；　with　a　braided　leather　carrying　strap。　Find　that　portable；　Dr　Mason；　and　you'll…〃
　
　I　never　heard　the　end　of　that　sentence。　I　was　still　sitting　there；　dazedly　wondering　why　the　words　'portable　radio'　should　have　triggered　off　such　a　clangorous　bell　in　my　mind　…1　can　only　plead　my　extreme　physical　and　mental　exhaustion…when　Zagero　catapulted　himself　off　his　seat　on　the　sled；　knocking　Jackstraw　staggering；　took　one　tremendous　hop　with　his　bound　feet　just　opposite　where　I　was　sitting　and　hurled　himself　bodily　towards　Corazzini　who；　his　face　twisted　in　a　vicious　and　unrecognisable　mask；　had　pushed　himself　off　the　tractor　tailboard　with　one　hand　and　with　the　other　was　fumbling　desperately　to　bring　something　out　from　under　his　coat。　He　saw　he　couldn't　make　it　in　time；　threw　himself　to　one　side；　but　Zagero；　bound　though　he　was；　was　like　a　cat　on　his　feet　and　I　knew　that　instant；　that　instant　that　was　too　late；　that　Zagero　was　indeed　the　world…class　boxer　that　he　claimed　to　be。　If　the　astonishing　speed　of　his　reflexes　were　not　proof　enough；　that　blurring　right　arm　of　his　carried　with　it　lethal　conviction。　Corazzini　was　a　very　big　man；　six　feet　two　and　at　least　two　hundred　pounds　and　he　was　swathed　in　many　layers　of　heavy　clothing；　but　when　that　fist　caught　him　with　such　frightening　power　just　under　the　heart　he　staggered　back　against　the　tailboard　and　slid　slowly　to　the　ground；　unseeing　eyes　turned　up　to　the　first　driving　flakes　o