cc.themediterraneancaper2-第26章

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mber。　Nor。　did　he　have　to　be　there　to　describe　the　experience　for　he　knew　exactly　what　it　felt　like。　To　be　alone　in　a　claustrophobic　atmosphere；　expecting　the　footsteps　of　death　to　e　treading　from　the　black　unknown；　was　a　blood　chilling　business。　When　in　doubt；　he　thought；　run　like　a　son　of　a　bitch。　And　run　like　a　son　of　a　bitch　he　did。　Back　through　the　alleyways；　back　up　the　panion…stairs；　until　at　last　his　lungs　were　greeted　by　the　pure；　wholesome　air　on　deck。
　The　early　morning　was　still　dark　and　the　derricks　reached　toward　the　velvet　ceiling　of　a　sky　that　was　alive。　with　a　dazzling　array　of　stars。　There　was　scarcely　a　stir　of　wind。　Over　the　bridge；　the　radio　mast　swayed　back　and　forth　across　the　milky　way；　and　below　Pitts's　feet；　the　hull　creaked　from　the　rolls　of　the　gentle　swells。　He　hesitated　a　moment；　gazing　at　the　dark　line　of　the　Thasos　coast；　yet　a　bare　mile　away。　Then　he　looked　down　at　the　smooth　black　surface　of　the　water。　It　looked　so　inviting。　so　peaceful。
　The　flashlight　still　glowed。　Pitt　cursed　his　stupidity　for　not　switching　it　off　when　he　reached　the　open　deck。　Might　as　well　have　advertised　my　presence　with　a　neon　sign；　he　thought。　He　quickly　doused　the　light。　Then　carefully；　so　as　not　to　cut　himself　on　the　broken　glass；　he　unwrapped　his　swim　trunks　and　removed　the　remains　of　the　lens。　He　hurled　the　tiny　slivers　over　the　railing　and　listened　till　the　faint　splash；　like　rain　on　a　pond；　reached　his　ears。　He　was　tempted　to　deep　six　the　flashlight　too；　but　his　mind　shifted　into　gear　and　rejected　the　impulse。　Leaving　the　rack　in　the　wheelhouse　void　of　the　flashlight　would　be　about　as　clever　as　sending　the　captain；　if　there　was　a　captain；　a　telegram　and　saying；　〃Just　before　dawn；　there　was　a　prowler　on　board　your　ship　who　ransacked　it　from　stem　to　stern。〃　It　very　definitely　wasn't　a　smart　move；　not　with　people　like　these　who　had　outfoxed　nearly　every　law　enforcement　agency　in　the　world。　The　fact　that　the　lens　was　missing　would　be　a　gamble　that　Pitt　would　have　to　take。
　He　glanced　at　his　watch　as　he　hurried　back　to　the　wheelhouse。　The　luminous　hands　showed　4：13。　The　sun　would　be　blossoming　soon。　He　scrambled　onto　the　bridge　and　replaced　the　flashlight　in　the　rack。　His　haste　was　almost　frantic。　He　had　to　be　off　the　ship；　into　his　diving　gear　and　a　good　two　hundred　yards　distant　before　daylight　gave　him　away。
　The　forward　deck　was　still　deserted；　or　at　least　it　seemed　to　be。　A　fluttering　noise　came　from　behind　Pitt。　Instantly　he　spun　around　in　a　sudden　renewed　fear　and　unsheathed　the　knife　in　one　deft　movement。　His　nerves　were　stretched　taut　to　the　border　of　panic；　his　head　pounded　like　a　drum　roll。　God；　he　thought；　I　can't　be　caught　now；　not　this　close　to　safety。
　it　was　nothing　but　a　gull　that　had　flown　out　of　the　night　and　landed　in　a　ventilator；　the　bird　pointed　a　tiny　eye　at　Pitt　and　cocked　its　head　questioningly。　No　doubt　wondering　what　sort　of　crazy　human　would　run　around　a　ship　in　the　early　morning；　clothed　in　nothing　but　a　flotation　vest　while　holding　a　knife　in　one　hand　and　a　bathing　suit　in　the　other。　The　relief　made　Pitt　feel　weak　at　the　knees。　It　had　been　quite　a　scare　and　he　was　badly　shaken。　When　he　boarded　the　ship　he　didn't　know　what　he　expected　to　find：　what　he　found　was　silence　tinged　with　unknown　terror。　Limply　he　leaned　against　the　railing；　getting　a　grip　on　himself。　At　this　rate　he'd　have　heart　failure　or　a　mental　breakdown　before　sunrise。　He　took　several　deep　breaths；　exhaling　slowly　until　the　fear　subsided。
　Without　a　backward　glance；　he　swung　over　the　rail　and　shinnied　down　the　anchor　chain；　vastly　relieved　at　departing　the　ghostly　ship。　It　was　a　wele　fort　to　be　in　the　soothing　water　again。　The　sea　opened　its　arms　and　gave　him　a　sense　of　remoteness　from　danger。
　It　took　only　a　minute　for　Pitt　to　slip　on　his　swim　trunks　and　retrieve　his　diving　gear。　Fitting　an　aqualung　tank　on　your　back　in　the　darkness　with　the　swells　pushing　you　against　the　sides　of　a　steel　hull　Isn't　an　easy　operation。　But　the　Ditch　and　Recovery　experience　he　had　obtained　during　his　early　diving　days　came　in　handy　now；　and　he　acplished　the　task　with　little　effort。　He　looked　around　for　the　wooden　crate；　but　it　had　drifted　into　the　black　curtain　of　night　and　disappeared；　the　wave　action　and　ining　tide；　by　this　time；　carrying　it　half　way　to　the　beach。
　He　lay　there　dead　in　the　water　and　considered　the　possibility　of　diving　under　the　Queen　Artemisia　and　examining　her　hull。　The　weird　scraping　noise　he　had　heard　in　the　engine　room　seemed　to　have　e　from　somewhere　outside　the　plates　and　below　the　keel。　Then　it　occurred　to　him　the　plan　was　hopeless。　Without　an　underwater　light　he　could　see　nothing。　And　he　wasn't　in　the　mood　to　grope　like　a　blind　man　along　a　four…hundred　foot　hull　that　was　encrusted　with　razor　sharp　barnacles。　He'd　heard　old　tales　that　described　in　detail　the　ancient　and　brutal　practice　of　keelhauling　insubordinate　British　sailors。　He　remembered　one　particularly　bloodcurdling　account　of　a　gunner's　mate　who　was　dragged　under　the　keel　of　the　H。M。S。　Confident　off　the　coast　of　Timor　in　1786。　Punished　for　stealing　a　cup　of　brandy　from　the　captain's　locker；　the　poor　fellow　was　dragged　under　the　keel　of　the　ship　until　his　body　was　sliced　to　ribbons　and　the　white　of　his　ribs　and　backbone　were　visible。　The　unfortunate　man　might　have　survived；　but　before　the　crew　could　hoist　him　back　on　board；　a　pair　of　Mako　sharks；　attracted　by　the　scent　of　blood；　attacked　and　chewed　the　man　to　pieces　before　the　horrified　eyes　of　the　men　on　deck。　Pitt　knew　what　a　shark　could　do。　He　had　once　pulled　a　boy　from　the　surf　in　Key　West　who　had　taken　a　nasty　bite　by　a　shark。　The　boy　had　lived；　but　a　massive　piece　of　tissue　would　always　be　missing　from　his　left　thigh。
　Pitt　cursed　out　loud。　He　must　stop　thinking　about　things　like　that。　His　ears　began　to　ring　from　a　humming　sound。　At　first　he　thought　it　was　a　trick　of　his　imagination。　He　shook　his　bead　violently：　it　was　still　there；　only　louder；　it　seemed　to　be　gaining　momentum。　Then　Pitt　knew　where　the　humming　was　ing　from。
　The　ship's　generators　had　started　again。　The　navigation　lights　blinked　on；　and　the　Queen　Artemisia　suddenly　came　alive　with　sound。　If　there　was　ever　a　time　when　the　better　part　of　valor　was　discretion；　it　was　now。　Pitt　clamped　the　mouthpiece　of　the　regulator　between　his　teeth　and　dove　clear　of　the　ship。　He　kicked　his　fins　with　every　ounce　of　power　in　his　legs；　seeing　nothing　under　the　ink　black　water；　hearing　only　the　strange　gurgling　sound　of　his　exhaust　bubbles。　It　was　times　like　this　that　he　wished　he　didn't　smoke。　After　covering　nearly　fifty…five　yards；　he　surfaced　and　looked　back　at　the　ship。
　The　Queen　Artemisia　rode　at　anchor　in　tombstone　solitude；　her　silhouette　outlined　against　the　graying　eastern　sky　like　an　old　fashioned　shadowgram。。　Dim　shafts　of　white　light　came　to　life　here　and　there　about　the　ship；　interrupted　only　by　the　green　glow　of　the　starboard　navigation　light。　For　several　minutes　nothing　more　happened。　Then　without　any　signal　or　shouted　mand；　the　anchor　clattered　up　from　the　seafloor　and　clanged　into　the　hull。　The　wheelhouse　was　lit　and　Pitt　could　see　it　clearly；　it　was　still　vacant。　It　just　can't　be；　he　repeated　to　himself　over　and　over　again：　it　just　can't　be。　But　the　old　ship　hadn't　yet　finished　the　last　act　of　her　ghostly　performance。　As　if　on　cue；　the　Queen　Artemisia's　telegraph　jangled　faintly　across　the　calm　pre…dawn　sea。　The　engines　responded　with　their　gentle　throb；　and　the　ship　continued　on　her　voyage：　the　secret　of　her　evil　cargo　still　locked　somewhere　within　her　steel　plates。
　Pitt　didn't　have　to　see　the　ship　move　to　know　it　Was　underway；　he　could　feel　the　beat　of　her　propellers　through　the　water。　Fifty…five　yards　was　more　than　enough。　At　that　distance　he　was　invisible　to　any　lookout　and　had　little　to　fear　from　being　sucked　through　the　huge　propellers　and　mangled　into　fish　bait。
　A　seething　flood　of　frustration　swept　over　Pitt　as　the　great　hull　slowly　slid　past　his　bobbing　head。　It　was　as　though　he　was　watching　a　ballistic　missile　lift　from　a　launching　pad　and　hurtle　on　its　pre…set　path　toward　devastation　and　death。　He　was　helpless；　he　could　do　nothing　to　stop　it。　Hidden　somewhere　on　the　Queen　Artemisia　was　enough　heroin　to　drown　half　the　population　of　the　Northern　Hemisphere　in　delirium。　God　alone　knew　what　chaos　would　erupt　in　every　city　and　town　if　it　was　distributed　to　all　the　peddling　scum　who　preyed　on　its　malignant　addiction。　How　many　people　would　bee　listless　dregs　and　eventually　die　from　the　drug's　deadly　narcosis？　One　hundred　and　thirty　tons　of　heroin　on　the　ship。　What　was　that　song　again；　the　little　ditty　that　he'd　sung　all　those　long　years　ago　in　school。　〃A　hundred　bottles　of　beer　on　the　wall〃　It　had　nearly　the　same　ring；　but　it　was　for　light　hearts　and　souls；　not　drugged　minds　and　lost　hopes。
　Then　Pitt　thought　of　himself。　Not　with　self…pride　for　destroying　the　yellow　Albatros　or　searching　the　Queen　Artemisia　and　getting　away　with　it　undetected。　He　thought　of　himself　only　as　an　idiot　for　risking　his　life　on　a　job　he　had　no　business　performing；　a　job　he　wasn't　paid　to　do。　His　orders　were　to　expedite　oceanographic　expeditions。　No　one　said　anything　about　chasing　after　drug　smugglers。　What　could　he　acplish？　He　wasn't　a　guardian　angel　of　humanity。　Let　Zacynthus；　Zeno；　INTERPOL　and　every　other　damn　cop　in　the　world　play　cat　and　mouse　with　von　Till。　It　was　their　game；　they　were　trained　for　it。　And　they　were　paid　for　it　too。
　Again　Pitt　swore　loudly　to　himself。　He　had　already　spent　too　much　time　daydreaming。　It　was　time　to　head　for　shore。　Mechanically；　his　eyes　watched　the　ship's　lights　diminish　bit　by　bit　into　the　fading　darkness　of　the　early　morning。　He　was　just　wading　onto　the　beach　when　the　sun　lifted　itself　from　the　horizon　and　threw　its　rays　on　the；　rock　strewn　summits　of　the　Thasos　mountains。
　Pitt　stripped　off　the　tank　and　let　it　fall　to　the　soft　wet　sand　along　with　the　breathing　regulator　and　his　mask　and　snorkel。　Exhaustion　curled　its　numbing　tentacles　around　him　and　he　succumbed　to　it；　dropping　to　his　hands　and　knees。　His　body　felt　sore　and　beat；　but　his　mind　hardly　noticed　these　things；　it　was　busy　with　something　else。
　Pitt　could　find　no　indication　of　the　heroin　on　board　the　ship；　nor　would　the　Bureau　of　Narcotics　or　the　Customs　Inspectors。　That　much　was　certain。　Below　the　waterline；　that　was　a　possibility。　But　surely　the　wary　investigators　would　have　divers　examine　every　inch　of　the　hull　when　the　ship　docked。　Besides；　there　was　no　way　a　cargo　of　that　size　could　be　removed；　unless　it　was　dropped　in　the　water　and　recovered　Later。　That　wouldn't　work　either；　he　thought；　it　was　too　obvious；　retrieving　a　watertight　container　filled　with　a　hundred　and　thirty　tons　of　solid　material　would　require　a　full　scale　salvage　operation。　No；　there　had　to　be　a　more　ingenious　method；　one　that　had　successfully　defied　detection　for　so　long。
　He　took　the　diver's　knife　and　idly　began　sketching　the　Queen　Artemisias　outline　in　the　wet　sand。　Then；　quite　suddenly；　the　idea　of　a　diagram　intrigued　him。　He　stood　up　and　traced　a　hull　that　stretched　for　approximately　thirty　feet。　The　bridge；　the　holds　and　engine　room；　every　detail　he　could　recall　was　etched　into　the　yielding　white　sand。　Minutes　passed　and　the　ship　started　to　take　shape。　Pitt　had