alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第52部分

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。　If　we　can　see　the　men　from　the　trawler；　it's　a　cinch　the　men　from　the　trawler　can　see　us。　The　point　is；　do　Smallwood　and　Corazzini　understand　them？〃
　
　Five　seconds　later　I　had　my　answer　in　the　form　of　a　suddenly　deepening　roar　ing　to　us　across　the　glacier　from　the　engine　of　the　Citroen。　Corazzini…Hillcrest's　binoculars　had　shown　him　to　be　the　driver…had　understood　the　danger　all　right；　he　was　casting　caution　to　the　winds　and　gunning　the　engine　to　its　maximum。　He　must　have　been　desperate；　desperate　to　the　point　of　madness；　for　no　sane　man　would　have　taken　the　fearful　risks　of　driving　that　tractor　through　sloping　crevasse　ice　with　the　friction　coefficient　between　treads　and　surface　reduced　almost　to　zero。　Or　could　it　be　that　he　just　didn't　know　the　suicidal　dangers　involved？
　
　After　a　few　seconds　I　was　convinced　he　didn't。　In　the　first　place；　I　couldn't　see　either　Corazzini　or　Smallwood　as　men　who　would　panic　under　pressure；　no　matter　how　severe　that　pressure；　and　in　the　second　place　suicidal　risks　weren't　absolutely　necessary；　they　would　have　stood　a　more　than　even　chance　of　getting　away　with　their　lives　and　the　…missile　mechanism　if　they　had　stopped　the　tractor；　got　out　and　picked　their　cautious　way　down　the　glacier　on　foot；　with　their　pistol　barrels　stuck　in　the　backs　of　their　hostages。　Or　would　they…rather；　did　they　think　they　would？
　
　I　tried　fleetingly；　frantically；　to　get　inside　their　cold　and　criminal　minds；　to　try　to　understand　their　conception　of　us。　Did　they　think　that　we　thought；　like　them；　that　the　mechanism　was　all　important；　that　human　lives　were　cheap　and　readily　expendable？　If　they　did；　and　guessing　the　quality　of　Jackstraw's　marksmanship　with　a　rifle；　would　they　not　be　convinced　that　they　would　be　shot　down　as　soon　as　they　had　stepped　out　on　to　the　ice；　regardless　of　the　fate　of　their　hostages？　Or　did　they　have　a　better　understanding　than　that　of　minds　more　normal　than　their　own？
　
　Even　as　these　thoughts　flashed　through　my　mind　I　knew　I　must　act　now。　The　time　for　thought；　had　there　ever　been　such　a　time；　was　past。　If　they　were　left　to　continue　in　the　tractor；　they　would　either　kill　themselves　on　the　glacier　or　if；　by　a　miracle；　they　reached　the　bottom　safely；　they　would　then　kill　their　hostages。　If　they　were　stopped　now；　there　was　a　faint　chance　that　Margaret　and　Levin　might　survive；　at　least　for　the　moment：　they　were　Smallwood's　and　Corazzini's　only　two　trump　cards；　and　would　be　kept　intact　as　long　as　lay　within　their　power；　for　they　were　their　only　guarantee　of　escape。　I　just　had　to　gamble　on　the　hope　that　they　would　be　desperately　reluctant　to　kill　them　where　they　were　now；　still　a　mile　from　the　end　of　the　glacier。　And　the　last　time　I　had　gambled　I　had　lost。
　
　〃Can　you　stop　the　tractor？〃　I　asked　Jackstraw；　my　voice　a　flat　lifeless　monotone　in　my　own　ear。
　
　He　nodded；　his　eyes　on　me：　I　nodded　silently　in　return。
　
　〃You　can't　do　that！〃　Zagero　shouted　in　urgent　protest。　The　drawl　had　gone　for　the　first　time　ever。　〃They'll　kill　them；　they'll　kill　them！　My　God；　Mason；　if　you're　really　stuck　on　that　kid　you'd　never…〃
　
　〃Shut　up！〃　I　said　savagely。　I　grabbed　acoil　of　rope；　picked　up　my　rifle　and　went　on　brutally：　〃If　you　think　they'd　ever　let　your　father　e　out　of　this　alive　you　must　be　crazy。〃
　
　A　second　later　I　was　on　my　way；　plunging　out　into　the　open　across　the　narrow　thirty…yard　stretch　of　ice　that　led　into　the　first　of　the　fissures；　wincing　and　ducking　involuntarily　as　the　first　。303　shell　from　Jackstraw's　rifle　screamed　past　me；　only　feet　to　my　right；　and　smashed　through　the　hood　of　the　Citroen　and　into　the　engine　with　all　the　metallic　clamour；　the　vicious　power　of　a　sledge…hammer　wielded　by　some　giant　hand。　But　still　the　Citroen　came　on。
　
　I　leapt　across　a　narrow　crevasse；　steadied　myself；　glanced　back　for　a　moment；　saw　that　Hillcrest；　Joss；　Zagero　and　a　couple　of　Hillcrest's　men　were　following；　then　rushed　on　again；　weaving　and　twisting　my　way　through　the　cracks　and　mounds　in　the　ice。　What　was　Zagero　doing　there；　I　asked　myself　angrily？　Unarmed；　with　two　useless　hands　that　could　hold　no　firearm；　he　was　nothing　but　a　liability；　what　could　any　man　do　with　ruined　hands　like　those？　I　was　to　find　out　just　what　a　man　with　ruined　hands　could　do。　。。。
　
　We　were　running　straight　across　the　narrowest　neck　of　the　glacier　making　straight　for　the　spot　where　the　tractor　would　arrive　if　it　survived　Jackstraw's　attempts　to　halt　it：　Jackstraw　was　firing　in　a　line　well　above　us　now；　but　we　could　still　hear　the　thin　high　whine　of　every　bullet；　the　metallic　crash　as　it　struck　the　Citroen。　Every　bullet　went　home。　But　that　engine　was　incredibly　tough。
　
　We　were　about　half…way　across　when　we　heard　the　engine　change　gear；　the　high　unmistakable　whine　of　the　tractor　beginning　to　overrun　its　engine。　Corazzini…I　could　clearly　see　him　now；　even　without　the　aid　of　binoculars…must　have　found　himself　losing　control　on　the　steepening　slope　and　was　using　the　engine　to　brake　the　Citroen。　And　then；　when　we　were　less　than　a　hundred　yards　away　and　after　a　longer　than　usual　lull　in　the　firing　…Jackstraw　must　have　stopped　to　change　magazines…the　sixth　shell　smashed　through　the　riddled　hood　and　the　engine　stopped　as　abruptly　as　if　the　ignition　had　been　switched　off。
　
　The　tractor　stopped　too。　On　that　steep　slope　this　was　surprising；　the　last　thing　I　would　have　expected；　but　there　was　no　doubt　that　not　only　had　it　stopped　but　that　it　had　been　stopped　deliberately：　there　was　no　mistaking　the　high…pitched　screech　of　those　worn　brakes。
　
　And　then　I　could　see　the　reason　why。　There　was　some　violent　activity　taking　place　in　the　driving　cabin　of　the　tractor；　and　as　we　neared…a　maddeningly　slow　process；　there　were　dozens　of　crevasses　to　be　jumped；　as　many　more　to　be　skirted…we　could　see　what　it　was。　Corazzini　and　Solly　Levin　were　struggling　furiously；　and；　from　thirty　or　forty　yards；　it　seemed；　incredibly　enough；　that　Solly　Levin　was　getting　the　better　of　it。　He　had　flung　himself　pletely　on　top　of　Corazzini　where　the　latter　sat　behind　the　wheel；　and　was　butting　him　savagely　in　the　face　with　the　top　of　his　bald　head；　and　Corazzini；　trapped　in　the　narrow　space；　could　find　no　room　to　make　use　of　his　much　greater　strength。
　
　Then；　abruptly；　the　door　on　the　driver's　side　burst　open…we　could　see　it　clearly；　having　been　lower　down　than　the　tractor　when　it　had　stopped　we　were　approaching　it　now　almost　head　on…and　the　two　men　fell　out　fighting　and　struggling　furiously。　We　could　see　now　why　Levin　had　been　using　his　head…both　hands　were　bound　behind　his　back。　It　had　been　an　act　of　desperate　courage　to　attack　Corazzini　in　the　first　place；　but　the　old　man　wasn't　to　get　the　reward　he　deserved　for　his　selflessness：　even　as　we　came　up　to　them　Corazzini　got　his　automatic　clear　and　fired　down　point…blank　at　Solly　Levin　who　was　lying　helplessly　on　his　back　but　still　gamely　trying　to　get　a　leg　lock　on　the　bigger　man。　I　was　a　split　second　too　late　in　getting　there；　even　as　I　crashed　into　Corazzini　and　sent　his　automatic　flying　away　to　slide　down　the　glacier；　I　knew　I　was　too　late；　Solly　Levin　was　a　crumpled　little　blood…stained　figure　lying　on　the　ice　even　before　Corazzini's　gun　went　slithering　over　the　edge　of　a　crevasse。　And　then　I　felt　myself　being　pushed　to　one　side；　and　Johnny　Zagero　was　staring　down　at　the　outspread　stillness　of　the　man　huddled　at　his　feet。　For　what　seemed　an　eternity；　but　was　probably　no　more　than　three　seconds；　he　stood　there　without　moving；　then　when　he　turned　to　Corazzini　his　face　was　empty　of　all　expression。
　
　It　might　have　been　a　flash　of　fear；　of　realisation　that　he　had　e　to　the　end　of　his　road　that　I　saw　in　Corazzini's　eyes；　but　I　could　never　swear　to　it；　the　turn　of　his　head；　the　sudden　headlong　dash　for　the　shelter　of　the　ice…covered　moraine　rocks　by　the　side　of　the　glacier；　ten　yards　away；　were　so　swift　that　I　could　be　certain　of　nothing。　But　swift　as　he　was；　Zagero　was　even　swifter：　he　caught　Corazzini　before　he　had　covered　four　yards　and　they　crashed　to　the　glacier　together；　clawing；　punching　and　kicking　in　the　grim　desperate　silence　of　men　who　know　that　the　winner's　prize　is　his　life。
　
　〃Drop　that　gun！〃　I　whirled　round　at　the　sound　of　the　voice　behind　me；　but　all　I　could　see　at　first　was　the　white　strained　face　of　Margaret　Ross；　the　brown　eyes　dulled　with　sickness　and　fear。　Involuntarily　I　brought　up　the　rifle　in　my　hands。
　
　〃Drop　it！〃　Smallwood's　voice　was　curt；　deadly；　his　face　barely　visible　behind　Margaret's　shoulder　as　he　peered　out　through　the　canvas　screen　at　the　rear　of　the　tractor　cabin。　He　was　pletely　shielded　by　her　body…it　was　typical　of　the　man's　cunning；　his　ice…cold　calculation　that　he　should　have　waited　until　our　attention　was　pletely　distracted　before　making　his　move。　〃And　your　friend。　Quickly　now！〃
　
　I　hesitated；　glanced　at　Hillcrest…the　only　other…man　with　a　weapon…to　see　how　he　was　placed；　then　jerked　my　head　back　again　as　there　came　a　sudden　plop　from　the　silenced　automatic　and　a　sharp　cry　of　pain　from　Margaret。　She　was　clutching　her　left　arm　just　below　the　elbow。
　
　〃Quickly；　I　said！　The　next　one　goes　through　her　shoulder。〃　His　voice　was　soft　with　menace；　his　face　implacable。　Not　for　a　moment　did　I　doubt　that　he　would　do　exactly　as　h