p&c.icelimit-第43部分

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e　safety　plate　and　push　the　emergency　fluid　release　button。
　Halfway　down　the　line；　a　faint；　mouselike　sound　brought　Rochefort　to　a　halt。
　Although　it　was　important　to　begin　releasing　fluid　from　all　the　jacks　together；　the　sound　was　so　unusual　that　Rochefort　glanced　down　the　row　of　jacks；　trying　to　determine　its　source。　It　seemed　to　have　e　from　the　front　of　the　row　of　jacks。　As　he　looked　in　that　direction；　the　sound　came　again：　a　kind　of　whispered；　agonized　creak。　He　narrowed　his　eyes。　Jack　number　one　didn't　look　right；　it　seemed　oddly　crooked。
　He　didn't　need　time　to　think。　〃Get　out！〃　he　shouted。　〃Now！〃　
　He　rose　to　his　feet　and　sprinted　for　the　access　tube；　Evans　at　his　heels。　He　knew　that　there　must　be　more　weight　on　those　jacks　than　they　had　guessed　in　even　their　most　pessimistic　assumptions：　a　lot　more　weight。　Just　how　much　more　would　determine　whether　they　would　get　out　in　time。
　He　could　hear　Evans　running　behind　him；　feet　thudding；　grunting　with　each　step。　But　even　before　they　reached　the　access　tube　the　first　jack　gave　with　a　terrifying　crack；　followed　by　a　second　crack；　and　then　a　third；　as　the　jacks　failed　in　sequence。　There　was　a　pause；　then　a　stuttering　series　of　pops；　like　a　burst　of　machine　gun　fire；　as　the　rest　of　the　jacks　failed。　Instantly；　Rochefort　was　surrounded　by　blinding　sprays　of　hydraulic　fluid。　There　was　a　sound　like　a　whirr　of　a　vast　sewing　machine　as　the　tunnel's　struts　and　braces　began　to　unravel。　He　ran　desperately　through　the　spray；　the　intense　force　of　the　pressurized　fluid　tearing　his　coat　to　ribbons　and　searing　his　flesh。　He　calculated　that　the　probability　of　survival　was　dropping　fast。
　He　knew　it　was　exactly　zero　when　the　meteorite　tipped　toward　him　with　a　great　hollow　boom；　buckling　steel　as　it　came；　squirting　dirt　and　mud　and　ice；　looming　into　his　field　of　vision　until　all　he　saw　was　a　shining；　inexorable；　pitiless　red。
　
　Rolvaag；
　Noon
　
　WHEN　MCFARLANE　arrived　at　the　Rolvaag's　library；　he　found　a　hushed　group　scattered　among　the　chairs　and　couches。　Shock　and　discouragement　hung　in　the　air。　Garza　stared；　unmoving；　out　of　the　wall　of　windows；　across　the　Franklin　Channel　toward　Isla　Deceit。　Amira　sat　in　a　corner；　knees　huddled　beneath　her　chin。　Britton　and　First　Mate　Howell　were　speaking　in　low　tones。　Even　the　reclusive　Dr。　Brambell　was　on　hand；　drumming　his　fingers　on　the　arms　of　his　chair　and　glancing　impatiently　at　his　watch。　Of　the　major　players；　only　Glinn　was　absent。　As　McFarlane　took　a　seat；　the　library　door　opened　again　and　the　head　of　EES　slipped　in；　a　slim　folder　beneath　one　arm。　On　his　heels　was　John　Puppup；　his　smile　and　sprightly　step　out　of　place　among　the　somber　group。　McFarlane　was　not　surprised　to　see　him：　though　Puppup　was　disinclined　to　go　ashore；　while　Glinn　was　on　board　the　Rolvaag　the　Yaghan　seemed　perpetually　at　his　side；　following　him　around　like　a　faithful　dog。
　All　eyes　turned　to　Glinn　as　he　stepped　into　the　middle　of　the　room。　Privately；　McFarlane　wondered　just　how　hard　the　man　was　taking　all　this：　two　of　his　men；　including　his　chief　engineer；　dead。　But　he　seemed；　as　usual；　calm；　neutral；　unaffected。
　Glinn's　gray　eyes　flickered　over　the　group。　〃Gene　Rochefort　had　been　with　Effective　Engineering　Solutions　from　the　beginning。　Frank　Evans　was　a　relatively　new　employee；　but　his　death　is　no　less　regretted。　This　is　a　tragedy　for　all　of　us　in　this　room。　But　I'm　not　here　to　eulogize。　Neither　Gene　nor　Frank　would　have　wanted　that。　We　made　an　important　discovery；　but　we　made　it　the　hard　way。　The　Desolacion　meteorite　is　a　great　deal　heavier　than　any　of　us　predicted。　Careful　analysis　of　the　failure　data　from　the　jacks；　along　with　some　highly　sensitive　gravimetric　measurements；　have　given　us　a　new　and　more　accurate　estimate　of　mass。　And　that　mass　is　twenty…five　thousand　tons。〃
　Despite　his　lingering　sense　of　shock；　McFarlane　felt　himself　go　cold　at　these　words。　He　made　a　quick　calculation：　that　gave　it　a　specific　gravity　of　about　190。　One　hundred　and　ninety　times　denser　than　water。　A　cubic　foot　of　it　would　weigh。。。　Good　Lord。　Almost　six　tons。　
　But　two　men　were　dead。　Two　more　men；　McFarlane　corrected　himself；　thinking　of　the　pathetic　litter　of　bones　that　had　been　his　ex…partner。
　〃Double　overage　is　our　policy；〃　Glinn　was　saying。　〃We　planned　as　if　everything　would　be　twice　our　best　estimate…twice　the　expense；　twice　the　effort　…　and　twice　the　mass。　That　means　we　already　planned　for　a　rock　that　weighed　almost　this　much。　So　I'm　here　to　tell　you　that　we　can　proceed　on　schedule。　We　still　have　the　means　at　our　disposal　to　retrieve　it；　bring　it　to　the　ship；　and　load　it　into　the　holding　tank。〃
　It　seemed　to　McFarlane　as　if；　mingled　among　Glinn's　cool　tones；　there　was　an　odd　note：　of　something　almost　like　triumph。
　〃Just　a　minute；〃　McFarlane　said。　〃Two　men　just　died。　We　have　a　responsibility　…　〃
　〃You　are　not　responsible；〃　Glinn　interrupted　smoothly。　〃We　are。　And　we're　fully　insured。〃
　〃I'm　not　talking　about　insurance。　I'm　talking　about　two　people's　lives。　Two　people　were　killed　trying　to　move　this　meteorite。〃
　〃We　took　every　reasonable　precaution。　The　probability　of　failure　was　less　than　one　percent。　Nothing　is　free　of　risk；　as　you　yourself　so　recently　pointed　out。　And　in　terms　of　casualties；　we're　actually　on　schedule。〃
　〃On　schedule？〃　McFarlane　could　hardly　believe　what　he　heard。　He　glanced　at　Amira；　and　then　at　Garza；　failing　to　see　in　their　faces　the　outrage　he　felt。　〃What　the　hell　does　that　mean？〃
　〃In　any　plex　engineering　situation；　no　matter　how　much　care　is　taken；　casualties　occur。　By　this　stage；　we　had　expected　two　casualties。〃
　〃Jesus；　that's　a　heartless　calculation。〃
　〃On　the　contrary。　When　the　Golden　Gate　Bridge　was　being　designed；　it　was　estimated　that　three　dozen　men　would　lose　their　lives　during　construction。　That　was　neither　coldblooded　nor　heartless　…　it　was　just　part　of　the　planning　process。　What　is　heartless　is　bringing　people　into　danger　without　calculating　the　risk。　Rochefort　and　Evans　knew　those　risks；　and　accepted　them。〃　Glinn　looked　straight　at　McFarlane；　speaking　almost　in　a　monotone。　〃I　assure　you；　I'm　grieving　in　ways　you　will　never　know。　But　I　was　hired　to　retrieve　this　meteorite；　and　that's　what　I　intend　to　do。　I　can't　afford　to　let　personal　feelings　cloud　my　judgment　or　weaken　my　resolve。〃
　Suddenly　Britton　spoke　up。　McFarlane　could　see　outrage　glittering　in　her　eyes。　〃Tell　me；　Mr。　Glinn。　Just　how　many　others　have　you　calculated　need　to　die　before　we　bring　the　Desolacion　meteorite　home？〃
　For　the　briefest　of　moments；　Glinn's　neutral　veneer　seemed　to　slip　at　this　salvo　from　an　unexpected　direction。　〃None；　if　I　can　help　it；〃　he　said　more　coldly。　〃We　will　do　everything　in　our　power　to　prevent　anyone　from　getting　hurt　or　killed。　And　your　implication　that　I　find　a　certain　number　of　deaths　acceptable　only　shows　your　ignorance　of　risk　assessment。　The　point　is　this：　no　matter　how　careful　we　are；　there　may　be　casualties。　It's　like　flying：　despite　everyone's　best　efforts；　planes　crash。　You　can　calculate　the　probable　death　rate　for　any　particular　flight。　But　we　still　continue　to　fly。　That　decision　to　keep　flying　doesn't　make　the　deaths　any　more　acceptable。　Do　I　make　myself　understood？〃
　Britton　stared　fixedly　at　Glinn　but　said　nothing　further。
　Then　Glinn's　voice　suddenly　became　gentle。　〃Your　concerns　are　genuine；　and　understandable。　I　appreciate　that。〃　He　turned；　and　his　voice　hardened　slightly。　〃But　Dr。　McFarlane；　we　can't　retrieve　this　meteorite　by　half　measures。〃
　McFarlane　flushed。　〃I　don't　want　anyone　else　getting　hurt。　That's　not　the　way　I　operate。〃
　〃I　can't　make　that　promise；〃　Glinn　said。　〃You；　of　all　people；　know　how　unique　this　meteorite　is。　You　can't　assign　it　a　value　in　dollars；　and　you　can't　assign　it　a　value　in　human　life。　It　all　boils　down　to　the　one　question；　which　I　will　direct　to　you　as　the　representative　of　the　Lloyd　Museum　…　do　you　still　want　it？〃　
　McFarlane　glanced　around　the　room。　All　eyes　had　turned　toward　him。　In　the　silence　that　followed；　he　realized　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　answer　the　question。
　After　a　moment；　Glinn　nodded　slowly。　〃We'll　recover　the　bodies　and　give　them　a　heroes'　burial　when　we　return　to　New　York。〃
　Dr。　Brambell　cleared　his　throat；　and　his　querulous　Irish　voice　sang　out。　〃I'm　afraid；　Mr。　Glinn；　there　won't　be　anything　more　to　bury　than；　ah；　two　boxes　of　wet　dirt。〃
　Glinn　darted　Brambell　an　icy　look。　〃Do　you　have　anything　else　of　substance　to　add；　Doctor？〃
　Brambell　crossed　one　green…smocked　leg　over　the　other　and　tented　his　fingers。　〃I　can　tell　you　how　Dr。　Masangkay　died。〃
　There　was　a　sudden　hush。
　〃Go　on；〃　said　Glinn　finally。
　〃He　was　struck　by　a　bolt　of　lightning。〃
　McFarlane　struggled　to　absorb　this。　His　old　partner；　at　the　very　moment　of　making　the　discovery　of　a　lifetime　…　struck　and　killed　by　lightning？　It　seemed　like　something　out　of　a　bad　novel。　And　yet　in　hindsight；　it　made　sense。　The　fulgurites　he'd　seen　at　the　site　were　a　tip…off。　On　top　of　everything　else；　the　meteorite　was　a　gigantic　lightning　rod。
　〃Your　evidence？〃　Glinn　asked。
　〃The　bones　were　burned　in　a　pattern　that　suggested　lightning　…　a　massive　charge　of　electricity　passing　through　the　body。　I've　seen　it　before。　And　only　an　electrical　blast　on　the　order　of　lightning　could