Clive Cussler - KA04 - White Death

by White Death(lit)

  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 safety-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.

  "I'll check. Must be hung up on something," he called out to the others, and followed the line inland.

  Ryan was only partly right. The line was snagged on someone, not something. A stray guard had seen Diego bolt for the lake and had gone over to investigate. He was holding the line in his hand when he saw Ryan approach from the beach. Ryan was bent low, his eyes following the line, and he never saw the man level his gun. The first sign that he was not alone was the impact of the bullet hitting him in the shoulder like a fiery hammer blow. He dropped to his knees.

  The guard never got off another shot. Diego, who had been fol- lowing Ryan's trail, let off a burst that stitched its way across the guard's chest. The guard was thrown back by the impact, but his fingers clutched the line in a death grip. Ryan watched through filmy eyes as the guard fell, his weight pulling on the line. An alarm sounded in his brain, cutting through the pain and confusion, and he tried to rise, but his legs were made of rubber. Then he felt strong hands lifting him to his feet and guiding him back toward the lake. They were almost at the water's edge, when the lake lit up as if it had been sprayed with phosphorescent paint.

  When the guard had toppled over, the tug had been transmitted along the line to the grenade rings. They'd popped out, and the levers had gone flying, igniting the fuse train. Six seconds later, the grenades went off simultaneously. A millisecond after that, the hydrogen in the tank ignited. The fiery gas rushed along the short length of the pipe and exited through the nozzle as if it were expelled from the busi- ness end of a flamethrower. The spurting flames touched off the in- visible cloud of hydrogen hanging under the dome.

  The airship hangar became a hell for the Kiolyan guards. Satu- rated with hydrogen, the superheated air exploded inside the dome, instantly incinerating flesh and bone. The dome contained the heat for only a few seconds, glowing white hot, before the thick plastic cells that formed the walls evaporated. But the delay before the final explosion of flames gave Ryan and Diego the time they needed. They gained the water's edge and dove into the lake as the dome exploded and sent out sheets of flame that vaporized the surrounding forest and outbuildings. Blistering waves of heat rippled out in every di- rection.

  Hampered by his wound, Ryan had only taken a quick gulp of air before plunging into the lake, and his lungs were only partially filled. He saw the water light up and heard a muffled roar, and he stayed under for as long as he could before popping his head up. When he surfaced, thick smoke from the burning forest stung his eyes, but he paid no attention to the pain. He stared in awe at the mushroom cloud rising high in the sky from the field of orange-glowing embers that marked the place where he had last seen the dome. It made the Hindenburg explosion look like a candle flame.

  Like otters coming up for air, Ben, Mercer and Diego stuck their heads out of the water and shared his wonder. Each of them had lost a friend or a relative to the schemes of Barker and his Kiolyan henchmen. But there was no smugness or satisfaction at the de- struction they had caused. They knew that justice had been only partially served. The mad geneticist had been hurt but not stopped. By the flickering light of the burning trees, they swam to the cata- maran, the three of them helping Ryan through the water. Minutes later, the boat was moving across the water, leaving the smoldering funeral pyre in its wake.

  39

  AUSTIN SAT ON the box offish antibiotics, holding the sword blade between his knees, his head bent against the hilt. A stranger would have seen this pose as one of dejection, but Zavala knew better. Austin would act when he was ready.

  Zavala was keeping himself occupied with a set of exercises that were part yoga, part Zen and part old-fashioned shadowboxing to loosen him up and focus his mind. He finished demolishing an imag- inary opponent with a left uppercut and a quick right cross, brushed his palms together and said, "I've just knocked out Rocky Marciano, Sugar Ray Robinson and Muhammad Ali in quick succession."

  Austin looked up and said, "Save some punches for Barker and his pals. We're starting to descend."

  Austin had been gambling that Barker was telling the truth when he said that he intended to feed them to his so-called pets and dump what was left into the Atlantic Ocean. A murderer like Barker would resort to any form of violence and duplicity to achieve his goals, but his inflated vision of himself extended to his godlike pronounce- ments of life and death. If Barker said
he would kill them over the Atlantic, he meant it.

  Austin had been waiting for the refueling stop, hoping the zep- pelin's crew would be distracted as the great airship came in for a landing. The guards had taken the men's wristwatches, and it was impossible to keep accurate track of the passage of time. After see- ing that they were cut off from sight and sound, Austin had stuck the sword point into the floor and put his ear against the hilt. The sword picked up the engine vibrations like a stylus on a record player. In the last few minutes, the pitch had changed. The engines had slowed. He stood and walked over to the sturdy wood-paneled door. They had put their shoulders against it earlier, but all they had gotten for their trouble were bruises.

  Austin knocked softly on the door. He wanted to be sure no guard was standing on the other side. When there was no reply, he gripped the sword hilt in two hands, lifted the blade over his head and brought it down, putting all the considerable strength in his thick arms behind the thrust.

  The wood splintered, but the blade didn't go through the door.

  Using the point, he pried off a section as big as his hand, then enlarged it. Working furiously, he opened a hole big enough to slip his arm through. The latch had been padlocked. After several more minutes, taking turns hacking at the wood with Zavala, they cut the latch off and pushed the door open. Seeing no guards, they cautiously made their way back to the fish hold. Austin leaned over the gangway.

  "Sorry to disappoint you boys," he said to the milky shapes swim- ming around in the tanks, "but we have other dinner plans."

  "They probably don't like Mexican food anyhow," Zavala said.

  "Check out the water level."

  The surface of the water was at a slant, indicating that the zeppe- lin was inclined at a forward angle. They were on their way down. Austin wanted to get into the control car but suspected it would be heavily defended. They would have to be more creative. Again he looked for an answer in Barker's psychotic personality. In his ram- bling discourse, Barker had revealed more than he should have.

  "Hey, Joe," Austin said thoughtfully, "do you remember what our host said about the sluice gates?"

  "They keep the more aggressive fish separated. Otherwise, his lit- tle pets would chew themselves to pieces."

  "He also said that the systems on this gasbag are hot-wired. I'll bet that when the sluice gates are removed, an alarm goes off. How would you like to create a little chaos?"

  Austin pulled up one of the gates. The fish on either side of the gate had come to the top of the tank, thinking that the presence of a human meant they were about to be fed. When the gate was re- moved, they all froze for an instant. Then their fins became a blur. There was a flash of silvery white and snapping jaws. Recalling the fate Barker had planned for them, Austin and Zavala watched the silent battle with a cold feeling in the pits of their stomachs. Within seconds, the tanks were filled with blood and fish parts. The creatures had ripped each other to shreds.

  A red light on the wall had started to flash when the gate was re- moved. Austin waited by the door while Zavala lounged on the cat- walk. He almost shouted for joy when only one guard showed up. The guard stopped short when he saw Zavala, and raised his rifle. Austin stepped up from behind and said, "Hello." When the guard turned, Austin jammed his elbow into the man's jaw. The guard crumpled to the floor like a sack of blubber. Austin scooped up the rifle and tossed it to Zavala. Then he found a switch that turned the alarm off.

  With Zavala rearmed and Austin clenching his sword as if he were about to lay siege to a castle, they left the fish hold and followed a short corridor that led to a set of stairs going down to the control cabin. From their elevated vantage point, they could see through the open door. Men were moving about the cabin or were at the controls, but Barker wasn't among them. Austin signaled for Zavala to back away. The control cabin could wait. It made no sense to tangle with the claws and teeth of the monster called Oceanus when it might be easier to cut off its head.

  Austin had a pretty good idea where he might find Barker. They hurried back through the fish hold and along a passageway until they came to the combination work area and museum where Austin had found Durendal. Austin's guess as to Barker's whereabouts was correct. The scientist and his scarfaced henchman were bent over the chart table.

  With his animal instincts, Scarface sensed their intrusion and raised his head. He saw the two NUMA men, and his face contorted in an expression of savage fury. Barker heard his henchman snarl and looked up. After his initial surprise, he broke out in a smile. Austin couldn't see the eyes behind the sunglasses, but he could tell that they were fixed on the sword. Without a word, Barker went over and picked up the horn, then looked inside the chest.

  "Well, well, Mr. Austin. It seems that you're a thief as well as a stowaway."

  He closed the lid and went to replace the horn on top. But first he glanced over at Scarface, who replied with an almost imperceptible nod. Before Austin could move. Barker threw the horn at Zavala's head. Zavala ducked and the horn missed him by a few inches. Tak- ing advantage of the distraction, Umealiq dropped down behind the desk. With the agility of a cat, he gained the protection of the heavy sofa. He popped up like an ugly jack-in-the-box, let off a wild shot from a handgun, then disappeared through a doorway.

  "Get him before he alerts the others!" Austin shouted. But Zavala was already on his way.

  Austin and Barker were left alone. With the smile still pasted on his ghostly face. Barker said, "Seems as if this is between you and me, Mr. Austin."

  Austin returned the smile. "If that's the case, you're through." "Brave words. But consider your position. Umealiq will kill your partner, and within moments, armed men will come pouring through that door."

  "Consider your position, Barker." He raised the sword and ad- vanced. "I'm about to cut your cold heart out and toss it to your mu- tant monsters."

  Barker spun around like a ballet dancer, snatched a harpoon off the wall of the Eskimo display and, with a flick of his wrist, hurled it at Austin with amazing accuracy. Austin stooped to avoid the mis- sile. The harpoon buried itself in the chest of one of the mummies. The stand holding the mummified body in leather crashed over, pulling down the section of airship skin with the word Nietzsche on it. Barker snatched another harpoon off the wall and charged at Austin, with an ivory knife from the display in his other hand.

  Austin lopped off the harpoon point with a quick swing of the sword, but the movement left him open. He stepped backward to avoid the knife and stepped on the horn, which was lying on the floor. His ankle buckled and he fell. Barker yelled in triumph and lunged. Austin had landed with the sword under him and couldn't bring it to a defensive position. The knife slashed down. Austin blocked Barker's wrist with the edge of his hand. He tried to grip it, but his palm was sweaty. He let go of the sword and brought his other hand around and used it to push the knife point away from his throat.

  Frustrated by Austin's superior strength, Barker jerked his hand back and brought it up to strike again. Austin rolled out of the way, leaving the sword behind him. They both scrambled to their feet at the same time.

  When Austin went to retrieve the sword, the knife slashed the air a few inches from his chest. Barker kicked the sword out of reach, then advanced on Austin. He stepped back and felt the edge of the desk behind him. He could go no farther. Barker was so close, Austin could see his face reflected in the sunglasses. Barker smiled and raised his knife to strike.

  Zavala had bounded through the doorway and stopped short. He expected to find himself in another corridor. Instead, he was in a small chamber, not much bigger than a telephone booth, with ladder rungs running up one wall. A single wall lamp lit the cramped space. Under the lamp was a flashlight rack. One of the lights was missing. He grabbed one of the remaining flashlights and pointed it up. He thought he saw a flicker of movement in its beam, then nothing but darkness. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, tucked the light in his belt and began to climb. The shaft opened onto a passageway
con- structed in a triangle of interlocking girders. Probably part of a keel that kept the airship rigid and allowed access to its innards.

  The keel intersected another passageway. Zavala held his breath and heard a slight ting that could have been made by a boot or shoe slapping against metal. He stepped into the new passageway and found that it curved up against the inside of the zeppelin's skin. The white fabric of the inflated gas bags was pressed tightly against the framework on the other side. He guessed that he was inside a ring that worked with the keels to give the airship further support.

  His theory proved out, as the passageway began to curve back on itself, so that he was climbing directly over the huge bags. Zavala was in good shape, but he was panting heavily when, at the top of the zep- pelin, he came to another triangular passageway running lengthwise from the front to the back of the airship. The choice was easier this time. He pointed his light along the transverse support. He could see movement and hear heavy footsteps echoing in the distance.

  Zavala dashed along the keel, knowing he had to stop Scarface be- fore he made it to the control car and raised the alarm. He came to another juncture where the transverse corridor intersected a sup- porting ring. There was no sign or sound of Scarface to reveal where he had gone. Zavala's mind assembled a picture of the inside of the great airship.