Clive Cussler - KA04 - White Death

by White Death(lit)

  If he were looking at a clock, the corridor he was in would be in the noon position. The transverse passageway he had seen earlier was at eight o'clock. To keep the rings rigid, there must be a third horizontal passageway at four o'clock. Maybe he could cut Scarface off at the pass.

  He descended the ring, half climbing, half falling. He almost shouted in exultation when he came upon the third transverse pas- sageway. He ran down the corridor, pausing at each ring to listen. He was guessing that Scarface would make his way as far forward as he could before descending to the control car using another ring.

  At the third juncture of a keel and a ring, Zavala heard a ting-ting as someone climbed down the metal ladder. He waited patiently until he could hear heavy breathing. He flicked on the light. The beam caught Scarface clinging to the ladder like a large, ugly spider. Scarface saw that he'd been intercepted and began to climb up the ladder.

  "Hold it right there!" Zavala ordered. He brought the shotgun to his shoulder.

  Umealiq halted and looked down at Zavala with an ugly leer on his face. "Fool!" he shouted. "Go ahead and fire. You'll be signing your death warrant. If you miss me and hit a hydrogen bag, the air- ship will go up in flames and you and your partner will die."

  Zavala's lips twitched at the ends. As an engineer, he was well- acquainted with the properties of various elements. He knew that hy- drogen was volatile, but unless he was using a tracer bullet, combustion was unlikely. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "I'd just end up punching a hole in the gas bag."

  The evil smile vanished. Umealiq bent off the ladder and pointed his gun at Zavala. The shotgun boomed once. The heavy shell hit Umealiq squarely in his broad chest and knocked him off the ladder. Zavala stepped back to avoid the body that crashed to his feet. As his life ebbed, Umealiq's face was twisted in disbelief.

  "That's something else you were wrong about," Zavala said. "I don't miss."

  While Zavala was chasing Scarface, Austin had been fighting for his life. Again, he had thrown his left hand up so that the edge of it caught Barker's wrist and stopped the descending knife inches from his neck. With his right hand, he reached up to grab Barker by the throat, but the other man jerked back. Austin's groping fingers yanked off the sunglasses. He found himself staring into Barker's pale-gray snake-eyes. Austin froze for a second and lost his grip on the wrist. Barker jerked his arm back, prepared to make another thrust.

  Austin reached back onto the desk, his fingers in a desperate search for a paperweight or something else he could use to brain Barker with. He felt a searing sensation. His hand had touched one of the halogen lamps that illuminated the map. He grabbed the lamp, brought it around and shoved it in Barker's face, hoping to burn him. Barker blocked the lamp, but he couldn't stop the light. It was as if Austin had thrown acid into Barker's light-sensitive eyes. He screamed and threw his hand in front of his eyes to shield them. He stumbled back, scream- ing in the Kiolyan language. Austin watched dumbfounded at the damage he had wrought with a single lightbulb.

  Barker groped his way out of the room. Austin picked up the sword and went after him. In his haste to catch Barker before he could get back to the control car, Austin was less careful than he should have been, and Barker was waiting for him in the fish hold. He ambushed Austin from just inside the door, and his slashing knife caught the rib cage on the side opposite from his existing wound. Austin dropped the sword and tumbled off the gangway onto the plastic lids that covered the fish tanks. He felt a warm dampness soaking his shirt.

  He heard a nasty laugh from Barker, who stood on the gangway visible in the blue glow from the tanks. He was looking up and down, and Austin realized with relief that he was still blind. Austin tried to pull himself along the top of the tanks. The creatures under the plastic stirred in the water as they saw him moving and smelled the blood. Barker jerked his head in Austin's direction.

  "That's right, Mr. Austin. I still can't see. But my acute sense of hearing gives me a different kind of sight. In the land of the blind, the man with the best hearing is king."

  Barker was trying to goad Austin into a fatal response. Austin was losing blood and didn't know how long he could stay conscious. Zavala could be dead. He was on his own. There was only one chance. He slid back the lid of the tank next to him, groaning to cover the noise.

  Barker's head stopped like a radar antenna with a fix on its target. He smiled, his pale eyes staring directly at Austin.

  Barker smiled. "Are you hurt, Mr. Austin?"

  He took a few steps toward Austin on the catwalk. Austin groaned again and slid back the top of the tank another few inches. Barker stepped off the catwalk and walked slowly along the tops of the fish tanks. Austin glanced at the opening. The gap was still less than a foot. He groaned again and brought it back another few inches. Barker stopped and listened as if he suspected something. "Screw you, Barker," Austin said. "I'm opening the sluice gates." Barker's face fell, and he let out a feral snarl and charged forward. He never heard Austin pull the lid back another foot-and then he had stepped into the tank. He sank out of sight, then his head bobbed back up to the surface. His face turned into a mask of fear as he re- alized where he was, and he clung to the edge of the tank and tried to pull himself out. The mutant fish in the tank had been startled by the intrusion, but now it was nosing around Barker's legs. It was

  being excited as well by blood from Austin's wound that had seeped down into the water.

  Austin rose to his feet and coolly pulled up the adjoining sluice gates. Barker was halfway out of the tank when the fish from the other tanks found him. His face turned even whiter, and then he slipped back into the tank. There was a flurry and commotion... and his body disappeared in bloody foam.

  Austin turned off the alarm switch and staggered back to Barker's quarters, where he had found a medicine cabinet with a first-aid kit. Using tape and bandages, he stanched the bleeding. Then he re- trieved the sword and was about to follow Zavala to see if he could help him, when his partner stepped through the door.

  "Where's Barker?" Zavala said.

  "We had a disagreement and he went to pieces." Austin s lips tight- ened in a mirthless smile. "I'll tell you later. What about Scarface?"

  "Fatal gas attack." He glanced around. "We might want to get off this thing."

  "I was just starting to enjoy the ride, but I see your point."

  They hurried forward to the control car. There were only three men in the cabin. One man stood in front of a spoked wheel at the forward end of the car. Another manned a similar wheel on the port side. A third, who seemed to be in command, was directing them. He went for a pistol in his belt when he saw Austin and Zavala enter the cabin. Austin was in no mood for fooling around.

  He stuck the sword's razor-sharp blade under the commander's Adam's apple and said, "Where are the others?"

  Fear replaced the hatred in the man's dark eyes. "They're manning mooring lines for the landing."

  While Zavala kept him covered, Austin lowered the sword and went over to one of the gondola windows. Lines dangled from a dozen points along the length of the great zeppelin. The zeppelin's lights illuminated the upturned faces of the men who waited below to grab the lines and pull the airship down to a mooring tower. He turned and ordered the commander to take his men and leave the control car. Then he locked the door behind them.

  "What do you think?" he said to Zavala. "Can you fly this an- tique.

  Zavala nodded. "It's like a big ship. The wheel up front is the rud- der control. The one on the side controls the elevators. I'd better take that. It might require a gentle hand."

  Austin stepped over to the rudder wheel. The zeppelin was angled forward, giving him a clear view of the scene below. Some of the mooring lines were in the hands of the ground crew.

  He took a deep breath and turned to Zavala. "Let's fly."

  Zavala turned the elevator wheel, but the zeppelin refused to rise.

  Austin cranked the engine controls over to half speed ahead. The air-
ship began to move forward, but the mooring lines were holding it down.

  "We need more lift," Zavala said.

  "What if we dump some weight?"

  "That might work."

  Austin scanned the control panel until he found what he was look- ing for. "Hold on," he said.

  He punched the button. There was a gushing noise as the fish tanks emptied. Hundreds of wriggling fish and thousands of gallons of water poured out of the chutes under the airship and rained down on the men below. The ground crew scattered, releasing the moor- ing lines. Those men who didn't let go found themselves lifted in the air when the airship rose suddenly with the loss of ballast. Then they, too, dropped off.

  The zeppelin moved forward and up until it was in the clear. Austin found that the rudder controls, as Zavala said, were not un- like those used to steer a ship. There was a delay before the great mass above their heads responded to the turn of the wheel. Austin steered the zeppelin out to sea. In the golden sparkle cast by the dawning sun, he could see the silhouette of a boat a few miles offshore. Then, he was distracted by a loud banging on the control-cabin door.

  He yelled over his shoulder. "I think we've worn out our wel- come, Joe."

  "I wasn't aware we'd ever had a welcome, but I won't argue with you."

  Austin steered toward the boat, and when they were closer, he brought the engine speed down to SLOW. Zavala turned the elevator wheel so that the zeppelin would move up. Then they climbed through the windows and grabbed a couple of mooring lines. Austin had some trouble holding on because of his latest wound, but he was able to wrap his legs around the rope and control his descent fairly well. They started to rappel to the sea as the zeppelin began to regain altitude.

  Paul had been standing watch a few minutes earlier when he heard the unmistakable sound of big engines. Something was going on in the air over the Oceanus facility. A minute before, beams of light had stabbed the sky. He saw a huge shadow, then lights were bounc- ing off the metallic skin of the airship. The airship turned seaward, gradually moving lower as it approached the boat.

  He awakened Gamay and asked her to alert the rest of the crew. He was afraid Oceanus might have called in aerial support. The sleepy-eyed captain was on deck a moment later.

  "What's going on?" he said.

  Paul pointed at the approaching zeppelin, which glowed as if it were on fire from the golden rays of the new sun. "We'd better get moving. I don't know whether that's a friend or enemy."

  The captain was fully awake now. He ran for the bridge.

  Professor Throckmorton was on deck as well. "Dear God," the professor said. "That's the biggest thing I've ever seen."

  The engines growled and the boat began to move. They watched nervously as the airship cut the distance between them. It was mov- ing erratically, left and right, then its nose would go high and low. But one thing was clear, it was coming right at them. It was so low now that the lines dangling from below touched the waves.

  Gamay had been focused on the control cabin. She saw heads ap- pear in the windows, then two men climbed out and slid down the ropes. She pointed them out to Paul, and a broad grin crossed his face.

  The captain had returned to the deck. Paul told him to bring the boat to a stop.

  "But they'll catch us."

  "Exactly right, Captain, exactly right."

  Mumbling to himself, the captain raced back to the bridge. Paul and Gamay grabbed some crew members and readied the vessel's inflatable outboard boat. The engines cut to an idle, and the boat plowed to a halt as the zeppelin's gigantic silhouette filled the sky. As the airship came abeam, the figures hanging from the lines dropped into the sea with two great splashes. The inflatable came alongside the heads bobbing in the waves. Paul and Gamay pulled Zavala and Austin aboard.

  "Nice of you to drop in," Paul said.

  "Nice of you to pick us up," Austin said.

  Even as he grinned with pleasure, Austin was keeping an eye on the zeppelin. To his relief, after the airship leveled out, it steered on a course away from the ship. Barker's men must have broken back into the control car. They would have made short work of the boat and everyone on it with their automatic weapons. But the Kiolya were headless now, without Toonook, their great leader.

  Within minutes, friendly hands were helping Austin and the oth- ers back onto the research vessel. Austin and Zavala were taken below and provided with dry clothes. Gamay did a professional job patching up Austin's latest wound with bandages. The injury might require a few stitches, but it looked worse than it was. On the plus side, Austin consoled himself, he would have matching scars on ei- ther side of his rib cage. He and Zavala were sitting in the galley with the Trouts, enjoying strong coffee and the warmth from the stove, when the cook, a Newfoundlander, asked if they wanted breakfast.

  Austin realized they hadn't eaten since the jerky they had had the previous day. From the look in Zavala's eyes, he was equally hungry.

  "Anything you can rustle up," Austin said. "Just make sure there's a lot of it."

  "I can give you fish cakes and eggs," the cook said.

  "Fish cakes?" Zavala said.

  "Sure. It's a Newfie specialty."

  Austin and Zavala exchanged glances. "No, thanks," they said.

  40

  BEAR CAME THROUGH as promised. Therri had called the bush pilot on the radio, told him she needed to evacuate nearly fifty people and pleaded for his help. Ask- ing no questions, Bear had rallied every bush pilot within a hundred- mile radius. Floatplanes streamed in from every direction to airlift the passengers from the shore of the lake. The sick and elderly went on first, then the young. Therri stood on the beach, feeling a mix- ture of relief and sadness, and waved good-bye to her new friend Rachael.

  Ryan's bloody badge of courage qualified him for a ride on one of the first planes out. With his shoulder wound patched up to stem the bleeding and prevent infection, he and the others were taken to a small but well-equipped provincial hospital. The Aguirrez brothers arranged their own transportation, calling in the EuroCopter to fly them back to the yacht with the news of their loss.

  Before they left, Ben and some of the younger men in the tribe went back across the lake to see what was left of Barker's complex. On their return, they reported that nothing remained. When Therri asked about the fate of the monster fish she had seen, Ben simply smiled and said, "Barbecued."

  Therri, Ben and Mercer were among the last to leave. This time, the fuzzy dice in Bear's cockpit were reassuring. As the floatplane wheeled over the vast forest, she looked down at the huge blackened area around the devastated site of Barker's incredible building.

  "Looks like we had a little forest fire down there," Bear yelled over the drone of the engine. "You folks know anything about that?"

  "Someone must have been careless with a match," Mercer said. Seeing the skeptical expression in Bear's eyes, Mercer grinned and said, "When we get back, I'll tell you the whole story over a beer."

  It actually took quite a few beers.

  Austin and Zavala, in the meantime, enjoyed their reunion with the Trouts and the leisurely cruise back to port on Throckmorton's re- search vessel. Throckmorton was still in a state of shock at the reve- lation of Barker's mad scheme, and he promised to testify before Senator Graham's Congressional committee once he had filled in Parliament about the dangers of genetically modified fish.

  Back in Washington, Austin met with Sandecker to fill him in on the mission. The admiral listened to the story of Barker's demise with rapt attention, but he saved most of his fascination for Duren- dal. He held the sword gingerly in his hands.

  Unlike many men of the sea, Sandecker was not superstitious, so Austin hiked an eyebrow when the admiral gazed at the shimmer- ing blade and murmured, "This weapon is haunted, Kurt. It seems to have a life of its own."

  "I had the same feeling," Austin said. "When I first picked it up, an electric current seemed to flow from the hilt into my arm."

  Sandecker blinked as if he were c
oming out of a spell, and slid the sword back into its scabbard. "Superstitious rubbish, of course."

  "Of course. What do you suggest we do with it?"

  "There's no question in my mind. We return it to its last rightful owner."

  "Roland is dead, and if the mummy I saw is Diego's, he won't be putting any claims on Durendal any time soon."

  "Let me think about it. Do you mind if I borrow the sword in the meantime?"

  "Not at all, although I could use it to cut through the mounds of paperwork."

  Sandecker lit his cigar and tossed the match into his fireplace.

  Flashing his familiar crocodile grin, he said, "I've always found fire to be much more effective in dealing with the effluent of our federal bureaucracy."