White Death nf-4

by Clive Cussler

  "We don't have to take over the whole ship, just the control cabin.'

  "Why didn't you say so? It's as good as done."

  "Think you can fly this old gasbag?"

  "Can't be that hard," Zavala said. "You hit the throttle and point the nose where you want to go."

  Despite the casual reply, Austin never doubted Zavala's words. His partner had hundreds of hours under his belt flying practically every aircraft built. Austin tried to picture where they were in the zeppelin. He guessed that they were about midway along the length of the great airship. If they kept moving forward and down, they would come to the control cabin.

  They left the room and its strange museum display and followed a maze of passageways totally unlike those they had encountered when they first came aboard. Their surroundings were newer and more functional. They came to a set of stairs leading down. Austin thought they had come to the control cabin, but he changed his mind when his nose picked up a whiff of brine and fish. He was reminded uncomfortably of his first breath inside the Oceanus fish nursery in the Faroe Islands.

  He hesitated at the top of the stairs, drew his Bowen, and slowly descended into the blackness below. His ears picked up the sound of motors and bubbling aerators, further convincing him that his fish- nursery theory was correct. He was about halfway down the stairs, when the lights went on and he saw that he had more than biofish to contend with.

  Dr. Barker stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at him, a cheerful smile on his thin face. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.

  "Hello, Mr. Austin," Barker said. "We've been expecting you.

  Won't you join us?"

  Any inclination to refuse Barker's offer was tempered by the sight of the stone-faced guards who surrounded the man, and the assault rifle muzzles pointed up the stairwell. The touch of a finger on even a single trigger would be enough to reduce Austin and Zavala to their basic molecules. Even more persuasive was the expression on the face of Barker's scarfaced henchman, who had tried on several occa- sions to kill Austin. His liver-colored lips were stretched in a wide grin that told Austin he was still the top target in the man's sights.

  "I would be a fool to refuse such a warm invitation," Austin said, as he descended the rest of the way.

  "Now drop your guns and kick them over/' Barker said. Austin and Zavala did as they were told. The guards picked the weapons up. One man came over and frisked Zavala. Scarface stepped up to Austin and ran his hands roughly down the front of the leather coat.

  "I'm going to enjoy watching you die," he growled.

  Durendal seemed to glow red hot against Austin's ribs. "I know a dentist who could do wonders for your teeth," he said.

  Scarface stopped his search and grabbed Austin's lapel in a chok- ing hold, only to back off at an order from Barker.

  "That's no way to treat our guests," Barker said. Turning to Joe, he said, "You're Mr. Zavala, I presume?"

  Zavala's mouth turned up slightly at the ends, and the softness of his dark brown eyes couldn't disguise the contempt in his voice. "And you're Dr. Barker, the mad scientist, I presume. Kurt has told me a lot about you."

  "All good, I'm sure," Barker said. He seemed amused as he glanced back to Austin. "Are you gentlemen on your way to a cos- tume ball?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact. If you don't mind, we'll be on our way/ Austin said.

  "Don't run off so soon. You just got here."

  "If you insist. We'd like to lower our hands, if you don't mind." "Go right ahead, but don't give my men an excuse to kill you on the spot."

  "Thanks for the warning." Austin glanced around. "How did you know we were aboard, hidden surveillance cameras?"

  "Nothing so sophisticated in this old relic. Purely as a safety meas- ure, we installed sensors around the ship. A light in the control cabin indicated a change in air temperature in the starboard engine- maintenance room. When we went to investigate, we found the hatch open. We thought it was an accident until we noticed that the coats were missing."

  "How careless of us." "It's the kind of carelessness that can get you killed. That was a dangerous way to come aboard. If you wanted a tour, we would have been glad to accommodate you."

  "Maybe next time."

  "There won't be a next time." Barker stepped forward and re- moved his sunglasses, revealing the pale eyes Austin had first seen at the Smithsonian reception. The irises were almost as white as the rest of his eyes and reminded Austin of a venomous snake he had once seen. "You and NUMA have caused me a great deal of trouble," Barker said.

  "Your troubles are just beginning," Austin said.

  "Brave words for someone in your position. But not unexpected. Umealiq was disappointed when you foiled his plans for you in Washington."

  "Umealiq?" said Zavala, who was hearing the name for the first time.

  "That's Scarface's real name," Austin said. "It supposedly means 'stone lance.' "

  Zavala's lips curled in a slight smile.

  "You find something humorous in the situation?" Barker said. "That's funny," Zavala said. "I thought it was Kiolyan for 'seal ma- nure/ "

  Scarface's hand went to the ivory knife at his belt, and he took a step forward. Barker stopped him with an outstretched arm. He gazed thoughtfully at the NUMA men.

  "What do you know about the Kiolya?"

  "I know that the Inuit consider you to be the scum of the Arctic," Austin said.

  Barker's bloodless face flushed scarlet. "The Inuit are in no posi- tion to judge. They have let the world think that the people of the north are nothing but a bunch of blubber-chewing caricatures who run around in furs and live in ice houses."

  Austin was pleased to see that he could get under Barker's cold skin. "I've heard the Kiolyan women smell like rancid whale blub- ber," he said.

  Zavala sensed the opening and joined in. "Actually, they smell worse," he said. "That's why these goons prefer their own male com- pany."

  "Insult us all you want," Barker said. "Your feeble repartee is the ranting of the doomed. My men are a brotherhood, like the warrior monks of the past."

  Austin's mind was racing madly. Barker was right. He and Joe could summon up every insult possible, but they were still two un- armed men against several well-armed guards. He would have to try to change the equation. It took some willpower to do so, but he yawned and said, "What about that tour you promised?"

  "How rude of me to forget."

  Barker led the way onto a raised catwalk running down the mid- dle of the chamber. The sound of bubbling water came from both sides, but the source of the noise was hidden by darkness. Barker re- placed the sunglasses on his head and gave an order to one of his men. A second later, the chamber was flooded in a blue light that came from fish tanks on both sides and a couple of feet below the catwalk. The tanks were flush to the floor and were covered with sliding transparent plastic lids that allowed a view of the huge fish swim- ming inside.

  "You look puzzled, Mr. Austin."

  "Another miscalculation on my part. I thought your fish were being held at your coastal operation where they would have access to salt water."

  "These are no ordinary fish," Barker said with pride in his voice. "They are designed to survive in salt or fresh water. The seed fish are improvements on the models I developed with Dr. Throckmorton. They are slightly larger and more aggressive than ordinary fish. Per- fect breeding machines. The airship will fly within feet of the ocean's surface, and they will slide down special chutes built into the belly of the zeppelin." He spread his arms the way he had done at his pep rally. "Behold my creations. Soon, these beautiful creatures will be swimming in the sea."

  "Where your monsters will create incredible havoc," Austin said.

  "Monsters? I think not. I've simply used my genetic-engineering skills to produce a better commercial product. There's nothing ille- gal about it."

  "Murder is illegal." "Spare us your pitiful indignation. There were many casualties before you came onto the scene. There will be
many more obstacles to be removed." He crossed to the tanks on the other side of the fish hold. "These are my special pets. I wanted to see how large and hun- gry I could make an ordinary fish. They are too aggressive for breed- ing purposes. They are separated by sluice gates now so they don't at- tack each other."

  At a word from Barker, a guard went over to a cooler and ex- tracted a frozen cod around two feet long. He slid back the plastic lid covering one of the tanks and tossed the carcass into the water. Within seconds, the cod disappeared in a bloody froth.

  "I've made dinner reservations for you," Barker said.

  "No thanks, we've already eaten," Austin said.

  Barker studied the faces of the two men, but saw no sign of fear, only defiance. He frowned and said, "I'll give you and your partner time to think about your fate, to imagine what it feels like to be torn apart by razor-sharp teeth and scattered over the ocean. Our men will come for you shortly after we stop at our facility on the coast to re- fuel. Adieu, gentlemen."

  Barker's men grabbed Austin and Zavala and hustled them down a corridor leading to a storage room. They were shoved inside, and the door was locked behind them.

  Austin tried the lock, then found a seat on a pile of cardboard boxes.

  "You don't seem very worried about being fed to the fishes," Zavala said.

  "I have no intention of providing entertainment for that white- eyed freak and his cretinous henchmen. By the way, I liked your comment about Kiolyan women."

  "It went against my grain. As you know, I love women of any kind. They have a lot to put up with, with their menfolk running around killing and sacrificing people. So, Mr. Houdini, how do we escape this little mess?"

  "I guess we bust our way out of here."

  "Uh-huh. And assuming we can get beyond that door, what chance do the two of us have against a battalion of armed men?"

  "There are three of us, actually."

  Zavala looked around. "An invisible friend, no doubt." Austin peeled out of his coat and drew the sword from its scab- bard. Even in the faint light inside the storage room, the blade seemed to glow. "This is my friend-Durendal7'

  38

  THE CATAMARAN CAME in like a marine landing craft, and the twin hulls slid partway onto the shore with a shriek of fiber' glass against gravel. The boat had no sooner come to a grinding halt than the people on board started to pile off. Ben Nighthawk was the first to hit the ground, followed by the Basques and the SOS crew. They helped the villagers climb down, and the group headed inland. Only Ben and Diego stayed behind.

  Jesse Nighthawk turned and saw his son lingering on the beach. He shooed the other villagers into the woods and walked back to where Ben was standing.

  "Why aren't you coming?" the old man said.

  "Go on without me," Ben replied. "I've been talking to Diego. We have work to do."

  "What do you mean? What sort of work?"

  Ben looked across the lake. "Revenge." "You can't go back!" Jesse said. "It's too dangerous." Diego, who had been listening to the exchange, said, "The heli- copter pilots who were shot down were our friends. Their death can- not go unanswered."

  "Those people killed my cousin," Ben said. "They beat and tor- tured my friends and family. They've raped our beautiful forest."

  Jesse couldn't see his son's face in the shadows, but there was no mistaking the determination in Ben's voice. "Very well," he said sadly.

  "I will see the others to safety."

  Marcus Ryan emerged from the woods, trailed by Chuck Mercer and Therri Weld. "What's going on?" he said, sensing the somber at- mosphere.

  "Ben and this man are going back," Jesse said. "I tried to stop them. They want to get themselves killed."

  Ben put his hand on his father's shoulder. "That's the last thing I want to do, Pop. I can't speak for Diego, but at the very least, I want to wipe that big fake igloo off the face of the earth."

  "That's a tall order for two men," Ryan said. "You'll need help." "Thanks, Mark, I know you mean well, but the others need you more than we do."

  "You're not the only one who has a score to settle," Ryan said. His voice gained a steely edge. "Barker killed Joshua, and he sank my ship. Now he's trying to kill the oceans. I owe him big-time. That thing on the other side of the lake is no grass hut. You're not going to blow it down with a huff and a puff."

  "We know that. We'll figure it out."

  "You don't have time for trial and error. I know how we can send that dome into the stratosphere." Ryan turned to Mercer. "You re- member what we talked about?"

  "Yeah, I remember. We said we could give Barker a big hotfoot if we got the chance."

  "Well, Ben, how about it?" Ryan said. "Are we in?"

  "It's not my decision alone." He turned to Diego.

  The Basque said, "There are many of them and only a few of us.

  Pablo is out of action. We would have to be very lucky merely to stay alive."

  Ben hesitated. "Okay, Mark. You're in."

  Ryan's mouth widened in a triumphant grin. "We'll need some ex- plosives. Our C-4 was taken away when we were captured."

  "My brother and I have some hand grenades," Diego said, reach- ing over to tap his backpack. "Three apiece. Enough?"

  In answer, Ryan glanced at Mercer, who said, "It could work if they're positioned in the right place."

  "What can I do?" said Therri, who had been listening to the dis- cussion.

  "Ben's people are in pretty tough shape," Ryan said. "They'll need your help, especially the kids."

  "I'll do my best," Therri said. She kissed him and gave Mercer and Ben a peck on the cheek as well. "Take care of yourselves."

  As Therri made her way back into the forest, Ben and the other men pushed the catamaran off the beach and climbed aboard. The boat's twin hulls and powerful motors gave it a respectable speed. They scudded over the surface of the lake and soon reached the op- posite shore. Pablo and Diego rode shotgun in the bow as the boat coasted up to the pier. They quickly tied up and headed inland.

  Mercer made a stop at the boat shed and emerged with two reels of three-eighths docking line, some cord and a roll of duct tape. Walking single file, they detoured around the plaza. With Ryan in the lead, the group made its way undetected to the side of the dome.

  Ryan found what he was looking for: a tall, cylindrical fuel tank lo- cated in a clearing surrounded by dense woods. Painted on the side was a warning that the tank contained highly flammable contents. A steel pipe about six inches in diameter ran from the tank to the side of the building. Next to where the pipe entered the airship hangar was a locked door. Like the dome itself, the door was made of a plas- tic material and easily gave way to the strength and determination be- hind Diego's shoulders.

  Then he and the others stepped into a short passageway that ran parallel to the pipe for several yards. The conduit disappeared through a wall next to another door, this one unlocked. Ryan took the lead and opened the door a crack, giving him a view of the inte- rior of the airship hangar. Men milled around in the middle of the building, where the airship had been tied down. Others were coiling lines or moving gantries and scaffolding. A few guards were drift- ing out the hangar's main door.

  Ryan motioned for the others to stay put while he and Mercer stepped into the hangar. They crawled along the wall behind tall stacks of coiled hose until they came to where the pipe entered the building. Barker had gestured toward the hose when he had ex- plained why he used hydrogen rather than helium to fill the airship's gasbags. A valve controlled by a large hand-turned wheel allowed the flow of gas into the hose. Ryan turned the wheel on the pipe until they could hear the hiss of gas escaping through the nozzle.

  The escaping gas rose to the roof, where it wouldn't be detected, they hoped, until it was too late. With their work done, they slipped out the door and followed the passageway into the open. Ben and Diego had been equally busy. Following Mercer's instructions, they had taped the hand grenades onto the tank. Short lengths of cord had been attached to the sa
fety-pin rings and ganged to the line from one of the spools. Ryan and Mercer inspected the work, found it satis- factory, then walked back to the lake, uncoiling the line behind them. They tried to run the line straight back to the lake, keeping it clear of bushes and trees where it could snag.

  When they'd emptied one two-hundred-foot-long spool, they spliced the free end onto another spool. They were still a dozen yards short of the lake when that spool gave out, too. Mercer ducked into the boat shed and came out with several lengths and sizes of rope that they spliced together until the rope reached to the water's edge. When all was ready, Diego headed back to the plaza and took a position be- hind a thick tree.

  With their work inside the hangar done, Kiolyan men were streaming out into the plaza, some of them heading in the direction of their barracks. The Basque coldly took a bead on a guard and let off a short burst. The man fell to the ground. More guards came running from the direction of the barracks and began to fire indis- criminately into the woods where they saw muzzle flashes, but Diego moved after each kill and the bullets went far wide of their targets. When two more of their number were killed, the men in the plaza ran for the door of the giant igloo.

  Diego had counted on exactly this reaction. He had tried to pick off the men who were making a break for the woods. The effect was to herd the guards into the "protection" of the structure. He knew that, given time, they would emerge from other exits in the dome and fan out into the woods and try a flanking maneuver. But as the last man disappeared into the airship hangar, leaving the plaza deserted, Diego was already sprinting back to the beach.

  Waiting on shore, where he and the others had been alerted by the sound of gunfire, Ryan saw Diego running toward him and handed the end of the line to Ben.

  "Would you like to do the honors?"

  "Thanks," Ben said, taking the line. "Nothing would give me more pleasure."

  Ryan turned to the other men. "When Ben yanks on that line, dive into the water and keep your head under for as long as you can. Okay, Ben. Let'er rip!"

  Ben jerked hard on the line, then dropped it and dove with the others into the lake. They filled their lungs with air, then ducked below the surface. Nothing happened. Ryan poked his head out and swore. He sloshed out of the lake onto the beach, picked up the loose end of the line and gave it a tug. It tugged back as if caught on a branch.