mreilly.icestation-第23部分

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　And　then　she　took　the　opportunity。　
　Gant　thrust　her　hands　forward　in　the　darkness　and　grabbed　Cuvier　by　the　lapels。　
　〃You　remember　giving　this　to　me；〃　she　said；　picturing　the　arrow　sticking　out　from　the　front　of　her　helmet。　〃Well；　now　you　can　have　it　back。〃　
　And　with　that　Gant　rammed　her　head　forward。　
　With　an　explosion　of　blood；　the　arrow　jutting　out　from　the　front　of　her　helmet　shot　right　through　Cuvier's　left　eye　and　penetrated　his　brain。　The　Frenchman　let　out　a　hideous；　inhuman　scream；　and　Gant　felt　a　wash　of　warm　blood　instantly　spray　all　over　her　face。　
　She　quickly　withdrew　the　arrow　from　the　French　soldier's　head　and　he　dropped　to　the　floor；　dead。　
　
　While　Gant　fought　with　Cuvier；　Schofield　and　Latissier　rolled　around　on　the　catwalk。　
　As　they　fought；　Schofield　heard　noises　everywhere。　Voices　spoke　frantically　over　his　helmet　inter：　
　〃…They're　going　round　the　other　side！〃　
　〃…going　for　the　other　ladder！〃　
　Footsteps　clanged　on　the　catwalk　above　him。　
　A　crossbow　fired　somewhere　nearby。　
　Schofield　heard　a　sudden　snap　as　Latissier　managed　to　lock　another　arrow　into　the　bolt　of　his　crossbow。　Schofield　quickly　elbowed　the　big　Frenchman　hard　in　the　face；　up　under　his　night…vision　goggles；　broke　his　nose。　Blood　splattered　everywhere；　all　over　Schofield's　arm；　all　over　the　lenses　of　Latissier's　goggles。　
　The　Frenchman　grunted　with　pain　as　he　flung　Schofield　away　from　him；　toward　the　edge　of　the　catwalk。　The　two　men　separated；　and　Latissier…still　lying　on　the　catwalk；　half…blinded　by　the　splotches　of　blood　on　his　night…vision　goggles…　angrily　brought　his　crossbow　around　toward　Schofield's　head。　
　Schofield　was　right　at　the　edge　of　the　catwalk；　up　against　the　railing。　He　thought　fast。　
　He　caught　Latissier's　weapon　hand　as　it　came　round　toward　him　and　then；　in　a　very　sudden　movement；　rolled　himself　off　the　edge　of　the　catwalk！　
　Latissier　had　never　expected　it。　
　Schofield　kept　his　grip　on　Latissier's　weapon　hand　as　he　fell；　and；　hanging　from　it；　he　swung　down　onto　the　empty　deck　below。　Like　a　cat；　Schofield　landed　on　his　feet　and　immediately　raised　Latissier's　crossbow　up　at　the　underside　of　the　D…deck　catwalk　and　pulled　the　trigger。　
　Latissier　was　lying　facedown　on　the　catwalk…with　his　arm　stretched　awkwardly　out　over　the　edge…when　the　crossbow　discharged。　At　point…blank　range；　the　arrow　shot　up　through　a　gap　in　the　steel　grating；　penetrated　Latissier's　night…vision　goggles；　and　lodged　itself　right　in　the　middle　of　the　Frenchman's　forehead。　
　
　Down　in　the　drilling　room；　Rebound　faced　the　crossbow…wielding　French　mando。　
　The　Frenchman　thought　he　had　the　upper　hand；　thought　he　had　Rebound　dead　to　rights。　He　only　forgot　one　thing。　
　Night　vision　is　hell　on　peripheral　vision。　
　He　was　standing　too　close。　
　Which　was　why　he　never　saw　the　Maghook　that　Rebound　was　holding　at　his　hip。　
　Rebound　fired。　The　Maghook　shot　out　from　its　launcher　and　slammed　into　the　Frenchman's　chest　from　a　range　of　three　feet。　There　came　a　series　of　instantaneous　cracks　as　the　French　mando's　rib　cage　collapsed　in　on　his　heart。　He　was　dead　before　he　hit　the　ground。　
　Rebound　took　a　deep　breath；　sighed　with　relief；　looked　at　the　drilling　room　in　front　of　him。　
　He　saw　what　the　Frenchman　had　been　doing　and　his　mouth　fell　open。　And　then　he　remembered　what　the　Frenchman　had　said　earlier。　
　〃Le　piège　est　tendu。〃　
　Then　Rebound　looked　at　the　room　again。　
　And　he　smiled。　
　
　〃South　tunnel；〃　Montana's　voice　said　over　Schofield's　helmet　inter。　
　Schofield　was　down　on　E…deck　now；　having　swung　down　there　on　Latissier's　arm。　He　looked　across　the　pool　and　saw　a　black　figure　running　into　the　south　tunnel。　It　was　the　last　French　mando…save　for　the　one　who　had　rappelled　down　the　shaft　earlier。　
　〃I　see　him；〃　Schofield　said；　taking　off　in　pursuit。　
　〃Sir；　this　is　Rebound；〃　Rebound's　voice　suddenly　cut　across　the　airwaves。　〃Did　you　just　say　the　south　tunnel？〃　
　〃That's　right。〃　
　〃Let　him　e；〃　Rebound　said　firmly。　〃And　follow　him　down。〃　
　Schofield　frowned。　〃What　are　you　talking　about；　Rebound？〃　
　〃Just　follow　him；　sir。〃　Rebound　was　whispering　now。　〃He　wants　you　to。〃　
　Schofield　paused　for　a　moment。　
　Then　he　said；　〃Do　you　know　something　that　I　don't；　Corporal？〃　
　〃That　I　do；　sir；〃　came　the　reply。　
　Montana；　Snake；　and　Gant　joined　Schofield　on　E…deck；　at　title　entrance　to　the　south　tunnel。　They'd　all　heard　Rebound　over　their　helmet　inters。　
　Schofield　looked　at　them　as　he　spoke　into　his　helmet　mike。　〃All　right；　Rebound；　it's　your　call。〃　
　
　Schofield；　Montana；　Snake；　and　Gant　edged　cautiously　down　the　long　southern　tunnel　of　E…deck。　At　the　end　of　the　tunnel　they　saw　a　door；　saw　the　silhouette　of　the　last　French　soldier　disappear　behind　it；　a　shadow　in　the　green　darkness。　
　Rebound　was　right。　The　soldier　was　moving　slowly。　It　was　almost　as　if　he　wanted　them　to　see　him　go　into　the　drilling　room。　
　Schofield　and　the　others　pressed　forward　down　the　tunnel。　They　were　about　ten　yards　away　from　the　door　to　the　drilling　room　when　suddenly　a　hand　reached　out　from　the　shadows　and　grabbed　Schofield　by　the　shoulder。　Schofield　spun　instantly　and　saw　Rebound　emerge　from　a　cupboard　set　into　the　wall。　There　seemed　to　be　another　body　in　the　cupboard　behind　Rebound。　Rebound　pressed　bis　finger　against　his　lips　and　led　Schofield　and　the　others　down　the　tunnel　toward　the　drilling　room　door。　
　〃It's　a　trap；〃　Rebound　mouthed　as　they　reached　the　door。　
　Rebound　pushed　open　the　door。　It　creaked　loudly　as　it　swung　open　in　front　of　them。　
　The　door　swung　wide　and　the　Marines　saw　the　last　Frenchman　standing　over　on　the　far　side　of　the　drilling　room。　
　It　was　Jean　Petard。　He　looked　forlornly　at　them。　He　was　caught　in　a　dead　end；　and　he　knew　it。　He　was　trapped。　
　〃I　。　。　。　I　surrender；〃　he　said　meekly。　
　Schofield　just　stared　at　Petard。　Then　he　turned　to　Rebound　and　the　others；　as　if　calling　for　advice。　
　Then　he　stepped　forward　into　the　drilling　room。　
　Petard　seemed　to　smile；　relieved。　
　At　that　moment；　Rebound　suddenly　stuck　his　arm　out　in　front　of　Schofield's　chest；　stopping　him。　Rebound　had　never　taken　his　eyes　off　the　Frenchman。　
　Petard　frowned。　
　Rebound　stared　at　him　and　said；　〃Le　piège　est　tendu。〃　
　Petard　cocked　his　head；　surprised。　
　〃The　trap　is　set；〃　Rebound　said　in　English。　
　And　then　Petard　suddenly　averted　his　gaze　and　looked　at　something　else；　something　on　the　floor　in　front　of　him；　and　his　smile　went　flat。　He　looked　up　at　Rebound；　horrified。　
　Rebound　knew　what　Petard　had　seen。　
　He　had　seen　five　French　words；　and　as　soon　as　he　had　seen　them；　Petard　knew　that　his　fight　was　over。　
　Those　five　words　were：　BRAQUEZ　CE　C？Té　SUR　L'ENEMMI。　
　Rebound　stepped　forward　and　Petard　yelled；　〃No！〃　but　it　was　too　late。　Rebound　stepped　through　the　trip　wire　in　front　of　the　door；　and　the　two　concave　mines　in　the　drilling　room　exploded　with　all　their　terrifying　force。　
　
　
　THIRD　INCURSION　
　16　June　1130　hours　
　
　The　highway　stretched　away　into　the　desert。　
　A　thin；　unbroken　strip　of　black　overlaying　the　golden…brown　floor　of　the　New　Mexico　landscape。　Not　a　single　cloud　appeared　in　the　sky。　
　A　lone　car　raced　along　the　desert　highway。　
　Pete　Cameron　drove；　sweating　in　the　heat。　The　air　conditioner　in　his　rented　Toyota　had　long　since　given　up　the　fight　for　life；　and　now　the　car　was　little　more　than　an　oven　on　wheels。　It　was　probably　ten　degrees　hotter　inside　the　car　than　it　was　outside。　
　Cameron　was　a　reporter　for　the　Washington　Post；　had　been　for　three　years　now。　Before　that；　he　had　made　a　name　for　himself　doing　features　for　the　respected　investigative…reporting　journal　Mother　Jones。　
　Cameron　had　fitted　in　well　at　Mother　Jones。　The　journal　has　one　all…enpassing　goal：　to　expose　misleading　government　reports。　Cover…ups。　And　to　a　large　extent；　it　had　been　successful　in　achieving　this　goal。　Pete　Cameron　loved　it；　thrived　on　it。　In　his　last　year　at　Mother　Jones；　he　had　won　an　award　for　an　article　he　had　written　on　the　loss　of　five　nuclear　warheads　from　a　crashed　B…2　stealth　bomber。　The　bomber　had　crashed　into　the　Atlantic　Ocean　just　off　the　coast　of　Brazil　and　the　U。S。　Government　had　issued　a　press　release　saying　that　all　five　warheads　had　been　recovered；　safely　and　intact。　Cameron　had　investigated　the　story；　had　queried　the　methods　used　to　find　the　missing　nukes。　
　The　truth　soon　emerged。　The　rescue　mission　had　not　been　about　the　recovery　of　the　warheads　at　all。　It　had　been　about　recovering　all　evidence　of　the　bomber。　The　nuclear　warheads　had　been　a　secondary　priority；　and　they　had　never　been　found。　
　It　was　that　article　and　the　award　ftiat　followed　it　that　had　brought　Cameron　to　the　attention　of　the　Washington　Post。　They　offered　him　a　job；　and　he　took　it　with　both　hands。　
　Cameron　was　thirty　years　old　and　tall；　really　tall…six…feet…five。　He　had　messy　sandy…brown　hair　and　wireframe　glasses。　His　car　looked　like　a　bomb　had　hit　it…empty　Coke　cans　were　strewn　about　the　floor；　intermingled　with　crumpled　cheeseburger　wrappers；　pads　and　pens　and　scraps　of　paper　stuck　out　from　every　partment。　A　pad　of　Post…its　rested　in　the　ashtray。　Those　that　had　been　used　were　stuck　to　the　dashboard。　
　Cameron　drove　through　the　desert。　
　His　cellular　rang。　It　was　his　wife；　Alison。　
　Pete　and　Alison　Cameron　were　something　of　celebrities　among　the　Washington　press　munity；　the　famous…or　infamous…husband…and…wife　team　of　the　Washington　Post。　When　Pete　Cameron　had　arrived　at　the　Post　from　Mother　Jones　three　years　ago；　he　had　been　assigned　to　work　with　a　young　reporter　named　Alison　Greenberg。　The　chemistry　between　them　had　ignited　immediately。　It　was　electric。　In　one　week；　they　were　in　bed　together。　In　twelve　months；　they　were　married。　
　〃Are　you　there　yet？〃　Alison's　voice　said　over　the　speaker　phone。　Alison　was　twenty…nine　and　had　shoulder…length　auburn　hair；　enormous　sky　blue　eyes；　and　a　beaming　smile　that　made　her　face　glow。　Pete　loved　it。　Alison　wasn't　conventionally　beautiful；　but　she　could　stop　traffic　with　that　smile。　At　the　moment；　she　was　working　out　of　the　paper's　D。C。　office。　
　〃I'm　almost　there；〃　he　replied。　
　He　was　on　his　way　to　an　observatory　out　in　the　middle　of　the　New　Mexico　desert。　Some　technician　at　the　SETI　Institute　there　had　called　the　paper