cc.vixen03-第8章

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　〃It'll　be　dark　in　a　couple　of　hours；〃　said　Steiger。　〃I　make　a　motion　we　call　it　a　day。〃
　〃You　win　my　vote。〃　Giordino　looked　across　at　Pitt。　〃How　about　it；　Captain　Bligh？　Shall　I　reel　in　the　camera？〃
　〃No；　keep　it　dangling。　We'll　troll　it　back　to　the　dock。〃
　Giordino　awkwardly　turned　his　boat　a　hundred　eighty　degrees　and　began　pulling　for　home。
　〃I　think　your　theory　has　about　shot　its　wad；〃　said　Steiger。　〃We've　been　over　the　center　of　the　lake　twice　and　all　we　have　to　show　for　it　is　a　bundle　of　sore　muscles　and　a　picture　of　a　tumbledown　shack。　Face　the　inevitable；　Pitt：　there's　nothing　of　interest　in　this　lake　but　fish。〃　Steiger　paused　and　nodded　at　the　television　equipment。　〃And　speaking　of　the　denizens　of　the　deep…what　a　fisherman　wouldn't　give　to　own　a　rig　like　this。〃
　Pitt　looked　up　at　Steiger　thoughtfully。　〃Al；　make　for　the　old　man　on　your　left　who's　casting　on　the　shore。〃
　Giordino　twisted　around　and　noted　the　direction　Pitt　indicated。　He　nodded　silently　and　altered　his　course。　Steiger　followed　suit。
　A　few　more　minutes'　rowing　brought　the　boats　within　hailing　distance　of　an　elderly　angler　who　was　expertly　laying　a　fly　beside　a　massive　boulder　that　protruded　from　the　lake's　surface。　He　looked　up　and　tipped　his　fly…festooned　hat　at　Pitt's　greeting。
　〃Having　any　luck？〃
　〃That's　not　very　original；〃　Steiger　mumbled。
　〃Business　is　a　mite　slow　today；〃　answered　the　angler。
　〃Do　you　fish　Table　Lake　often？〃
　〃Off　and　on　for　twenty…two　years。〃
　〃Can　you　tell　me　what　part　of　the　lake　eats　the　most　bait？〃
　〃e　again？〃
　〃Is　there　a　section　of　Table　Lake　where　fishermen　frequently　lose　their　lures？〃
　〃Over　toward　the　dam　there's　a　submerged　log　that　does　a　pretty　good　job　of　it。〃
　〃What　depth？〃
　〃Eight；　maybe　twelve　feet。〃
　〃I'm　looking　for　a　spot　that's　deeper；　much　deeper；〃　said　Pitt。
　The　old　angler　thought　a　moment。　〃Up　toward　the　big　marsh　at　the　north　end　of　the　lake　there's　this　big　hole。　Lost　two　of　my　best　spinners　in　it　last　summer　while　trolling　deep。　A　lot　of　the　big　fish　swim　deep　during　hot　weather。　I　don't　remend　trying　your　luck　there；　though。　Not　unless　you　own　part　interest　in　a　tackle　shop。〃
　〃Much　obliged　for　your　help；〃　Pitt　said；　and　waved。　〃Good　luck！〃
　〃Same　to　you；〃　said　the　old　angler。　He　went　back　to　his　casting　and　within　a　few　moments　his　pole　arched　with　a　strong　bite。
　〃You　heard；　Al？〃
　Giordino　looked　longingly　at　the　dock　and　then　at　the　lake's　north　end；　a　quarter　of　a　mile　away。　Resigning　himself　to　the　chore；　he　raised　the　camera　to　keep　it　from　creeping　into　the　lake　bed　and　then　adjusted　his　gloves　and　took　up　the　oars　again。　Steiger　gave　Pitt　a　four…letter　stare　but　raised　the　white　flag。
　A　half　hour　of　fighting　a　gusting　cross　chop　passed　with　agonizing　slowness。　Steiger　and　Giordino　went　about　their　labor　in　silence；　Gior…dino　on　blind　faith　in　Pitt's　judgment；　Steiger　because　he　was　damned　if　he'd　let　Giordino　outendure　him。　Pitt　stayed　glued　to　the　monitor；　every　so　often　calling　out　depth　adjustments　to　Giordino。
　The　bottom　of　Table　Lake　began　to　rise　the　closer　to　the　marsh　they　rowed。　Then；　abruptly；　the　silt　and　weed　began　dropping　away；　and　the　water　darkened。　They　halted　to　lower　the　camera　and　then　resumed　the　stroke。
　They　had　moved　only　a　few　yards　when　a　curved　object　edged　onto　the　screen。　The　form　was　not　sharply　defined；　nor　did　it　have　a　natural　contour。

　〃Stop　rowing！〃　Pitt　ordered　tersely。
　Steiger　slumped　on　his　seat；　grateful　for　the　break；　but　Giordino　looked　piercingly　across　the　narrow　distance　separating　the　two　boats。　He'd　heard　that　tone　of　voice　from　Pitt　before。
　Down　in　the　cold　depths　the　camera　slowly　drifted　closer　to　the　object　materializing　on　the　monitor。　Pitt　sat　as　though　turned　to　oak　as　a　large　white　star　on　a　dark…blue　background　crept　into　his　view。　He　waited　for　the　camera　to　continue　its　probe；　the　inside　of　his　mouth　as　dry　as　Kansas　dust。
　Giordino　had　rowed　over　and　was　holding　the　two　boats　together。　Steiger　became　aware　of　the　tension；　raised　his　head；　and　looked　inquir…ingly　at　Pitt。
　〃You　got　something？〃
　〃An　aircraft　with　military　markings；〃　Pitt　said；　controlling　the　excite…ment　he　felt。
　Steiger　crawled　astern　and　peered　unbelievingly　into　the　monitor。　The　camera　had　floated　over　the　wing　and　was　now　falling　back　along　the　fuselage。　A　square　port　came　into　view　as　above　it　the　words　MILITARY　AIR　transport　SERVICE　marched　by。
　〃Sweet　Jesus！〃　Giordino　gasped。　〃A　MATS　transport。〃
　〃Can　you　tell　what　model？〃　Steiger　asked　feverishly。
　Pitt　shook　his　head。　〃Not　yet。　The　camera　angle　missed　the　more　easily　identifiable　engines　and　nose　section。　It　came　across　the　left　wing　tip　and；　as　you　can　see；　is　now　moving　toward　the　tail。〃
　〃The　serial　number　should　be　painted　on　the　vertical　stabilizer；〃　Steiger　said　softly；　as　though　in　prayer。
　They　sat　absorbed　as　the　unearthly　scene　unfolded　below。　The　plane　had　settled　deeply　in　the　mud。　The　fuselage　had　cracked　open　aft　of　the　wings；　the　tail　section　twisted　on　a　slight　angle。
　Giordino　gently　dipped　his　oars　and　towed　the　camera　on　a　new　course；　correcting　its　vie　wing　field。　The　resolution　was　so　clear　that　they　could　almost　make　out　the　flush　rivets　in　the　aluminum　skin。　It　was　all　so　strange　and　incongruous。　It　was　difficult　for　them　to　accept　the　image　the　television　equipment　relayed　to　their　eyes。
　Then　they　held　their　breaths　as　the　stenciled　serial　number　on　the　vertical　stabilizer　began　entering　from　stage　right。　Pitt　zoomed　in　the　camera　lens　ever　so　slightly　so　there　would　be　no　mistaking　the　aircraft's　identification。　First　a　7；　then　a　5；　and　a　4；　followed　by　03。　For　a　moment　Steiger　stared　at　Pitt；　the　shattering　effect　of　what　he　now　knew　to　be　true　but　was　unable　to　accept　turned　his　eyes　as　glazed　as　those　of　a　somnam…bulist。
　〃My　God；　it's　03。　But　that's　impossible。〃
　〃What　you　see　is　what　you　get；〃　said　Pitt。
　Giordino　reached　over　and　shook　Pitt's　hand。　〃Never　a　doubt；　part…ner。〃
　〃Your　confidence　in　me　is　duly　noted；〃　Pitt　said。
　〃Where　do　we　go　from　here？〃
　〃Drop　a　marker　buoy　over　the　side　and　we'll　call　it　a　day。　Tomorrow　morning　we'll　go　down　and　see　what　we　can　find　inside　the　wreck。〃
　Steiger　sat　there；　shaking　his　head　and　repeating；　〃It's　not　supposed　to　be　here　。　。　。　it's　not　supposed　to　be　here。〃
　Pitt　smiled。　〃Apparently　the　good　colonel　refuses　to　trust　his　own　eyes。〃
　〃It's　not　that；〃　Giordino　said。　〃Steiger　has　this　psychological　prob…lem。〃
　〃Problem？〃
　〃Yeah；　he　doesn't　believe　in　Santa　Claus。〃
　In　spite　of　the　chilling　morning　air；　Pitt　was　sweating　inside　the　wet　suit。　He　checked　his　breathing　regulator；　gave　the　thumbs…up　sign　to　Giordino；　and　dropped　over　the　side　of　the　boat。
　The　icy　water；　surging　between　his　skin　and　the　interior　lining　of　his　three…sixteenths…inch…thick　neoprene　suit；　felt　like　an　electric　shock。　He　hung　suspended　just　below　the　surface　for　several　moments；　suffering　the　stabbing　agony；　waiting　for　his　body　heat　to　warm　the　entrapped　water　layer。　When　the　temperature　became　bearable；　he　cleared　his　ears　and　kicked　his　fins；　descending　into　an　eerie　world　where　wind　and　air　were　unknown。　The　line　from　the　marker　buoy　angled　off　into　the　beckoning　depths　and　he　swam　along　beside　it。
　The　bottom　seemed　to　rise　up　and　meet　him。　His　right　fin　trailed　through　the　mud　before　he　leveled　off；　creating　a　gray　cloud　that　mush…roomed　like　smoke　from　an　oil…tank　explosion。
　Pitt　checked　the　depth　gauge　on　his　wrist。　It　read　one　hundred　forty　feet。　That　meant　approximately　ten　minutes'　bottom　time　without　wor…rying　about　depression。
　His　primary　enemy　was　the　water　temperature。　The　icy　pressure　would　drastically　affect　his　concentration　and　performance。　His　body　heat　would　soon　be　drained　by　the　cold；　pushing　his　endurance　beyond　its　borders　and　into　the　realm　of　excessive　fatigue。
　Visibility　was　no　more　than　eight　feet；　but　that　factor　did　not　hinder　him。　The　marker　buoy　had　missed　the　sunken　plane　by　mere　inches　and　he　had　but　to　extend　a　hand　and　touch　the　metal　surface。　Pitt　had　wondered　what　sensations　would　course　through　him。　He　was　certain　fear　and　apprehension　would　raise　their　tentacles。　But　they　did　not　appear。　Instead；　he　felt　a　strange　sense　of　acplishment。　It　was　as　though　he'd　e　to　the　end　of　a　long　and　exhausting　journey。
　He　swam　over　the　engines；　the　blades　of　their　propellers　gracefully　bent　backward；　like　the　curled　petals　of　an　iris；　the　finned　cylinder　heads　never　to　feel　the　heat　of　bustion　again。　He　swam　past　the　windows　of　the　cockpit。　The　glass　was　still　intact　but　coated　with　slime；　cutting　off　any　view　of　the　interior。
　Pitt　noted　that　he　had　used　up　nearly　two　minutes　of　his　bottom　time。　He　quickly　kicked　around　to　the　shattered　opening　of　the　main　fuselage；　squeezed　through；　and　switched　on　his　dive　light。
　The　first　things　his　eyes　distinguished　in　the　somber　gloom　were　large　silver　canisters。　Their　tie…down　straps　had　broken　in　the　crash　and　they　lay　jumbled　about　the　cargo…cabin　floor。　Carefully　he　snaked　in　and　around　them　and　glided　through　the　open　door　to　the　control　cabin。
　There　were　four　skeletons　sitting　in　their　assigned　seats；　held　in　their　grotesque　positions　by　nylon　seat　belts。　The　navigator's　bony　fingers　were　still　clenched；　the　one　at　the　engineer's　panel　leaned　backward；　its　skull　cocked　to　one　side。
　Pitt　moved　forward；　more　than　a　touch　of　fear　and　revulsion　in　his　chest。　The　bubbles　from　his　air　regulator　cascaded　upward　and　mingled　in　one　corner　of　the　cockpit's　ceiling。　What　made　the　scene　all　the　more　unearthly　was　the　fact　that　although　the　flesh　of　the　bodies　was　gone；　the　clothes　remained。　The　icy…cold　water　had　held　back　the　rotting　process　over　the　decades；　and　the　crew　sat　as　properly　uniformed　as　at　the　instant　they　had　all　died。
　The　copilot　sat　stiffly　upright；　his　jaws　open　in　what　Pitt　imagined　to　be　a　ghostly　scream。　The　pilot　drooped　forward；　his　head　almost　touching　the　instrument　panel。　A　small　metal　plate　protruded　from　his　breast　pocket；　and　Pitt　gently　retrieved　it；　pushing　the　small　rectangle　up　one　of　the　sleeves　of　his　wet　suit。　A　vinyl　folder　hung　from　a　pocket　next　to　the　pilot's　seat；　and　Pitt　took　that　also。
　A　glance　at　his　watch　told　him　his　time　was　up。　He　didn't　need　an　engraved　invitation　to　head　for　the　surface　and　the　friendly　rays　of　the　sun。　The　cold　was　beginning　to　seep　into　his　blood　and　mist　his　mind。　He　could　have　sworn　the　skeletons　had　all　turned　and　were　staring　at　him　through　the　empty　sockets　of　their　skulls。
　He　hurriedly　backed　out　of　the　cockpit　and　turned　around　when　space　permitted　in　the　cargo　cabin。　It　was　then　he　spied　a　skeletal　foot　behind　one　of　the　canisters。　The　body　that　belonged　to　the　foot　was　secured　by　straps　to　several　of　the　cargo　tie…down　rings。　Unlike　the　remains　of　the　crew　forward；　this　one　still　had　remnants　of　flesh　adhering　to　its　bones。
　Pitt　fought　the　bile　rising　in　his　throat　and　studied　more　closely　what　was　once　a　living；　breathing　man。　The　uniform　was　not　Air　Force　blue　but　rather　a　khaki　similar　to　the　old　Army　issue。　He　went　through　the　pockets；　but　they　were　bare。
　An　alarm　began　to　go　off　in　his　head。　His　arms　and　legs　were　losing　all　feeling　and　turning　stiff　from　the　relentless　cold；　and　his　moveme