p&c.icelimit-第64部分

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n　international　waters。　And　then　it　was　a　straight　shot　to　New　York。　There　would　be　an　uproar；　of　course；　when　they　returned　to　the　States。　But　he　relished　a　good　fight　…　especially　when　he　was　in　the　right。
　He　inhaled　deeply；　as　the　feeling　of　joy　continued　to　swell。　The　phone　on　his　desk　began　to　ring；　but　still　he　ignored　it。　There　was　a　tapping　at　the　door；　no　doubt　Penfold；　he　ignored　that　too。　A　violent　gust　shook　the　windows；　splattering　them　with　rain　and　sleet。　And　then　at　last　Lloyd　stood　up；　dusted　himself　off；　and　squared　his　shoulders。　Not　yet；　but　soon　…　very　soon　…　it　would　be　time　to　return　to　the　bridge　and　congratulate　Glinn　on　his　…　on　their　…　success。
　
　Almirante　Ramirez；
　4：10　A。M。
　
　ANDANTE　VALLENAR　stared　into　the　blackness　of　the　Cape　Horn　night；　gripping　the　engine…room　telegraph；　steadying　himself　against　the　steep　rolling　of　the　ship。　It　was　all　too　clear　what　had　happened。。。　and　why。
　Pushing　the　fury　to　the　back　of　his　consciousness；　he　concentrated　on　a　mental　calculation。　In　the　sixty…knot　panteonero；　the　destroyer's　windage　would　produce　a　two…knot　drift；　bine　that　with　the　two…knot　easterly　set　of　the　current；　and　he　had　about　one　hour　before　his　ship　was　thrust　onto　the　reefs　beyond　Isla　Deceit。
　Behind　him；　he　could　feel　the　silence　of　his　officers。　They　were　awaiting　the　orders　to　abandon　ship。　They　were　going　to　be　disappointed。
　Vallenar　took　a　breath；　controlling　himself　with　an　iron　will。　When　he　spoke　to　the　officer　of　the　deck；　his　voice　was　steady；　without　quaver。　〃Damage　assessment；　Mr。　Santander。〃
　〃It　is　difficult　to　say；　andante。　Both　screws　appear　to　be　stripped。　Rudder　damaged　but　functional。　No　hull　breach　reported。　But　the　ship　has　lost　headway　and　steerage。　We　are　dead　in　the　water；　sir。〃
　〃Send　two　divers　over　the　side。　Report　specific　damage　to　the　screws。〃
　This　order　was　greeted　with　a　deeper　silence。　Vallenar　turned；　very　slowly；　raking　the　assembled　officers　with　his　eyes。
　〃Sir；　it　will　be　death　to　send　anyone　overboard　in　this　sea。〃　said　the　officer　of　the　deck。
　Vallenar　held　him　in　his　gaze。　Unlike　the　others；　Santander　was　relatively　new　to　his　mand：　a　mere　six　months　spent　here　at　the　bottom　of　the　world。　〃Yes；〃　said　Vallenar；　〃I　see　the　problem。　We　cannot　have　that。〃
　The　man　smiled。
　〃Send　a　team　of　six。　That　way；　at　least　one　should　survive　to　plete　the　job。〃
　The　smile　vanished。
　〃That's　a　direct　order。　Disobey；　and　you　will　be　leading　that　team。〃
　〃Yes；　sir；〃　said　the　officer　of　the　deck。
　〃There　is　a　large　wooden　crate　in　along　the　starboard　side　of　Forward　Hold　C；　marked　‘40　mm　ordnance。'　Inside　is　a　spare　screw。〃　Vallenar　had　prepared　for　many　emergencies；　the　loss　of　a　screw　included。　Hiding　spare　parts　aboard　ship　was　a　good　way　to　get　around　the　corrupt　officials　of　the　Punta　Arenas　Navy　Yard。　〃After　documenting　the　damage；　you　will　cut　what　sections　you　need　from　the　spare　screw。　Divers　will　weld　these　sections　to　the　damaged　screws　to　give　us　propulsion。　We　will　be　on　the　shoals　of　Isla　Deceit　in　less　than　sixty　minutes。　There　will　be　no　order　given　to　abandon　ship。　There　will　be　no　distress　call。　You　will　either　give　me　propulsion；　or　all　hands　will　go　down　with　the　ship。〃
　〃Yes；　sir；〃　said　the　officer　of　the　deck　in　a　near　whisper。　The　looks　of　the　other　bridge　officers　betrayed　what　they　thought　of　this　desperate　plan。　Vallenar　ignored　them。　He　did　not　care　what　they　thought：　he　cared　only　that　they　obeyed。　And　for　now；　they　were　obeying。
　
　Rolvaag；
　7：55　A。M。
　
　MANUEL　GARZA　stood　on　a　narrow　metal　catwalk；　peering　down　at　the　great　red　rock　that　lay　far　below　him。　From　this　height　it　looked　almost　small：　an　exotic　egg；　sitting　in　a　nest　of　steel　and　wood。　The　webbing　surrounding　it　was　a　fine　piece　of　work：　damn　fine；　perhaps　the　best　thing　he　had　done　in　his　life。　Marrying　brute　strength　to　pinpoint　precision　had　been　remarkably　difficult；　a　challenge　that　only　someone　like　Gene　Rochefort　could　appreciate。　Garza　found　himself　sorry　that　Rochefort　wasn't　here　to　see　it；　beautiful　engineering　was　one　of　the　few　things　that　had　brought　a　smile　to　the　man's　pinched　face。
　The　TIG　welding　crew　had　followed　him　down　the　access　tunnel　and　were　now　stepping　through　the　hatchway　onto　the　catwalk；　making　a　racket　in　their　heavy　rubber　boots。　They　were　a　colorful　bunch：　yellow　suits　and　gloves；　welding　diagrams　with　individual　jobs　colored　in　red。
　〃You've　got　your　assignments；〃　Garza　said。　〃You　know　what　to　do。　We　need　to　lock　that　son　of　a　bitch　into　place　and　we　need　to　do　it　before　the　seas　get　any　rougher。〃
　The　foreman　gave　Garza　a　mock　salute。　Everyone　seemed　to　be　in　high　spirits；　the　meteorite　was　in　the　hold；　the　Chilean　destroyer　was　out　of　the　picture；　and　they　were　on　their　way　home。
　〃Oh；　and　one　other　thing。　Try　not　to　touch　it。〃
　The　men　laughed　at　the　little　joke。　Someone　made　a　crack　about　Timmer's　ass　achieving　escape　velocity；　there　was　a　reference　to　being　mailed　home　in　Tupperware　containers。　But　nobody　moved　toward　the　elevator　cage　leading　to　the　bottom　of　the　tank。　Garza　could　see　that；　despite　the　humor　and　the　high　spirits；　there　was　a　deep　nervousness。　The　meteorite　might　be　safely　in　the　Rolvaag；　but　it　had　lost　none　of　its　ability　to　inspire　dread。
　There　was　only　one　way　to　handle　this：　quickly。　〃Go　to　it；〃　Garza　said；　slapping　the　foreman　on　the　back　with　an　air　of　heartiness。
　Without　further　delay；　the　men　began　stepping　into　the　cage。　Garza　almost　stayed　behind　…　after　all；　he　could　direct　the　entire　operation　better　from　the　observation　unit　at　the　end　of　the　catwalk　…　but　decided　that　would　be　unseemly。　He　stepped　into　the　cage　and　slid　the　grating　shut。
　〃Into　the　belly　of　the　beast；　Mr。　Garza？〃　one　man　asked。
　〃Gotta　keep　you　jackasses　out　of　trouble。〃
　They　descended　to　the　bottom　of　the　tank；　where　a　series　of　metal　beams　had　been　laid　across　the　keel　rider；　forming　a　floor。　Buttressing　members　ran　from　the　cradle　in　all　directions；　distributing　the　weight　of　the　meteorite　toward　all　corners　of　the　ship。　Following　the　directions　on　their　welding　diagrams；　the　men　branched　out；　climbing　along　struts　and　disappearing　into　the　plex　lattice　that　surrounded　the　meteorite。　Soon　they　were　all　in　place；　but　the　tank　remained　silent　for　a　long　moment；　it　was　as　if；　down　here　beside　the　rock；　nobody　wanted　to　be　the　first　to　begin。　And　then　the　bright　points　of　light　began　popping　out　in　the　dim　space；　casting　crazy　shadows　as　the　welders　fired　up　their　equipment　and　went　to　work。
　Garza　checked　the　assignment　list　and　the　master　diagram；　satisfying　himself　that　everybody　was　doing　just　what　he　was　supposed　to。　There　was　a　faint　chorus　of　sizzling　as　the　TIG　welders　bit　into　the　metal；　fusing　the　cradle　into　place　at　a　host　of　critical　nodes。　He　ran　his　gaze　over　the　welders　in　turn。　It　was　unlikely　some　cowboy　would　get　too　close　to　the　rock；　but　he　made　sure　nonetheless。　Somewhere　in　the　distance　he　could　hear　an　occasional　drip。　Searching　idly　for　the　source；　he　glanced　at　the　longitudinal　bulkheads　rising　sixty　feet　to　the　top　of　the　tank；　ribbed　and　worked　like　a　metal　cathedral。　Then　he　glanced　down　at　the　bottom　girders。　The　hull　plates　were　wet。　No　surprise　there；　under　the　circumstances。　He　could　hear　the　measured　boom　of　surf　along　the　hull；　feel　the　gentle；　slow…motion　rolling　of　the　ship。　He　thought　of　the　three　membranes　of　metal　that　lay　between　him　and　the　bottomless　ocean。　It　was　a　disquieting　thought；　and　he　pulled　his　gaze　away；　looking　now　at　the　meteorite　itself；　inside　its　webbed　prison。
　Although　from　down　here　it　looked　more　imposing；　it　was　diminished　by　the　vastness　of　the　tank。　Once　again；　he　tried　to　prehend　how　something　so　small　could　weigh　so　much。　Five　Eiffel　towers　packed　into　twenty　feet　of　meteorite。　Curved；　pebbled　surface。　No　scooped…out　hollows　like　a　normal　meteorite。　Stunning；　almost　indescribable　color。　He'd　love　to　give　his　girlfriend　a　ring　made　out　of　that　stuff。　And　then　his　memory　flashed　back　to　the　various　chunks　of　the　man　named　Timmer；　laid　out　in　the　mand　hut。　Nope；　no　ring。
　He　glanced　at　his　watch。　Fifteen　minutes。　The　work　was　estimated　to　take　twenty…five。　〃How's　it　going？〃　he　called　to　the　crew　foreman。
　〃Almost　there；〃　the　foreman　called　back；　his　voice　echoing　and　distorted　in　the　great　tank。　Garza　stood　back　and　waited；　feeling　the　ship　rolling　more　heavily　now。　The　smell　of　cooking　steel；　tungsten；　and　titanium　was　strong　in　the　air。
　At　last　the　TIG　welders　began　snapping　off　as　the　welders　finished　their　work。　Garza　nodded。　Twenty…two　minutes：　not　bad。　Just　a　few　more　critical　welds　and　they'd　be　done。
　Rochefort　had　designed　things　to　keep　those　welds　to　a　minimum。　Whenever　possible；　he'd　kept　things　simple。　Less　likely　to　fail。　He　may　have　been　a　prig；　but　he　was　a　damn　good　engineer。　Garza　sighed　as　the　ship　began　to　roll　again；　wishing　again　Rochefort　could　have　seen　his　plan　bee　real　here　in　this　tank。　Someone　got　killed　on　almost　every　job。　It　was　a　little　like　war；　better　not　to　make　too　many　friends。。。
　He　realized　that　the　vessel　was　still　rolling。　This　is　a　big　one；　he　thought。　There　was　a　faint　flurry　of　creaks　and　groans。　〃Hold　tight！〃　he　called　out　to　the　crew　as　he　turned　awa