pdouglas.thecodex-第57部分

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ould　never　forget　as　long　as　he　lived。　They　had　heard　there　was　a　Mayan　temple　somewhere　up　in　the　Cerros　Escondidos　in　the　Guatemalan　lowlands。　Fifty　days　and　fifty　nights；　hacking　their　way　along　overgrown　trails；　stung　and　bitten　and　scratched；　starving　and　sick。　When　they　stumbled　into　that　Lacandon　village；　the　villagers　wouldn't　talk。　The　temple　was　there　somewhere；　all　right。　No　doubt　about　it。　But　the　villagers　were　silent。　Hauser　had　just　about　gotten　a　girl　to　the　point　of　talking　when　Max　had　thwarted　him。　Pointed　a　gun　right　at　his　head；　the　bastard；　disarmed　him。　That　was　the　break；　the　final　straw。　Max　had　ordered　Hauser　away　like　he　was　some　dog。　Hauser　had　no　choice　but　to　give　up　their　search　for　lost　cities　and　go　home…while　Max　went　on　to　find　the　White　City。　He　looted　a　rich　tomb　up　here；　and　that　tomb；　forty　years　later；　had　bee　his　own。
　It　had　e　full　circle；　though；　hadn't　it？
　Hauser　enjoyed　another　long　suck　on　the　cigar。　In　his　years　in　bat；　he　had　learned　something　important　about　people：　When　things　got　tough；　you　could　never　tell　who　was　going　to　make　it　and　who　was　going　to　fold。　The　big　Army　Ranger　guys　in　their　crew　cuts　and　pumped…up　Arnold　Schwarzenegger　pecs　and　big…dick　talk　sometimes　fell　apart　like　so　much　overcooked　meat；　while　the　geek　in　the　pany；　the　intel　guy　or　the　electronics　nerd；　turned　out　to　be　the　real　survivor。　So　you　never　knew。　This　was　how　it　was　with　the　three　Broadbent　kids。　He　had　to　hand　it　to　them。　They　had　done　well。　They　would　perform　this　final　service　and　then　their　road　would　e　to　an　end。
　He　paused；　listened。　There　was　a　faint　sound　of　ululating；　whooping；　and　yelling。　He　raised　the　binoculars。　Far　to　the　left　of　the　stone　fort；　he　could　see　a　shower　of　arrows　e　sailing　out　of　the　jungle。　One　of　them　struck　a　klieg　light　with　a　distant　ping！
　The　Indians　were　attacking。　Hauser　smiled。　It　was　a　diversion；　of　course；　designed　to　draw　the　attention　of　his　soldiers　away　from　the　bridge。　He　could　see　his　own　men　huddling　behind　the　stone　walls；　guns　at　the　ready；　loading　their　grenade　launchers。　He　hoped　to　hell　they　could　pull　it　off。　At　least　they　had　an　assignment　to　fake　what　they　were　already　good　at：　failure。
　More　arrows　came　sailing　out　of　the　forest；　followed　by　another　eruption　of　bloodcurdling　yells。　The　soldiers　answered　with　a　panicky　burst　of　gunfire；　and　another。　A　grenade　went　sailing　uselessly　into　the　forest；　and　there　was　a　flash　and　a　bang。
　For　once　the　soldiers　were　getting　it　right。
　Now　that　the　Broadbents　had　made　their　move；　Hauser　knew　exactly　how　it　was　going　to　unfold。　It　was　as　predetermined　as　a　series　of　forced　moves　in　chess。
　And　there　they　were；　right　on　schedule。　He　raised　his　binoculars　again。　The　three　brothers　and　their　Indian　guide　were　running　low　across　the　open　ground　behind　the　soldiers；　heading　for　the　bridge。　How　clever　they　thought　they　were；　racing　with　all　their　hearts　and　souls　into　a　trap！
　Hauser　just　had　to　laugh。
　
　62
　
　Sally　had　crawled　within　two　hundred　yards　of　the　soldiers　guarding　the　bridge。　She　lay　behind　a　fallen　tree　trunk；　her　Springfield　resting　on　the　smooth　wood。　All　was　quiet。　She　hadn't　said　good…bye　to　Tom；　they　had　simply　kissed　and　gone。　She　tried　not　to　think　about　what　was　going　to　happen。　It　was　a　crazy　plan；　and　she　doubted　they'd　ever　get　across　the　bridge。　Even　if　they　did；　and　were　able　to　rescue　their　father；　they'd　never　get　back。
　This　was　exactly　what　she　didn't　want　to　be　thinking　about。　She　turned　her　attention　to　the　rifle。　The　Springfield　'03　dated　back　to　before　World　War　I；　but　it　felt　right；　and　the　optics　were　excellent。　Chori　had　taken　good　care　of　it。　She　had　already　calculated　the　distance　from　her　hiding　place　to　where　the　soldiers　were　hunkered　down　inside　the　ruined　stone　fort…210　yards…and　she　had　adjusted　the　scope　accordingly。　The　ammunition　Chori　had　given　her　was　standard　military　issue　。30…06　with　a　150…grain　bullet；　so　no　additional　calculations　were　necessary；　even　if　she　had　the　adjustment　tables　handy；　which　she　did　not。　She　had　also　adjusted　the　knurled　windage　knob　to　her　best　estimate　of　the　wind　conditions。　The　fact　was；　210　yards　was　not　much　of　a　challenge　for　her；　especially　with　a　stationary　target　as　large　as　a　man。
　Since　she　had　arrived　at　the　log　she　had　been　thinking　about　what　it　would　mean　to　kill　another　person　and　whether　she　could　do　it。　Now；　as　the　action　was　minutes　from　beginning；　she　knew　she　could。　To　save　Tom's　life　she　would　do　it。　Hairy　Bugger　was　sitting　in　a　little　cage　made　of　woven　vines。　She　was　glad　he　was　there　to　keep　her　pany；　although　he'd　been　fretting　and　grumping　at　Tom's　absence　and　his　own　imprisonment。　She　took　out　a　handful　of　nuts；　gave　a　few　to　Bugger；　and　ate　the　rest　herself。
　It　was　about　to　begin。
　Right　on　schedule　she　heard　a　distant　yell　from　the　forest　on　the　far　side　of　the　soldiers；　followed　by　a　chorus　of　whoops；　shrieks；　and　ululations　that　sounded　more　like　a　hundred　warriors　than　ten。　A　shower　of　arrows　flashed　out　of　the　dark　woods；　aimed　high　so　they　would　e　down　on　the　soldiers　at　a　steep　angle。
　She　quickly　fitted　her　eye　to　the　scope　to　see　the　action　better。　The　soldiers　were　scrambling　in　a　panic；　loading　their　grenade　launchers　and　getting　in　position　behind　the　stone　wall。　They　began　firing　back；　disorganized　panicky　bursts　aimed　willy…nilly　at　the　wall　of　forest　two　hundred　yards　away。　A　grenade　went　sailing　uselessly　toward　the　forest；　falling　short　and　going　off　with　a　flash　and　bang。　More　grenades　followed；　bursting　in　the　treetops　and　ripping　the　branches　off　the　trees。　It　was　an　unusually　inpetent　display　of　military　prowess。
　To　her　left　Sally　saw　a　flash　of　movement。　The　four　Broadbents　were　running　at　a　crouch　across　the　open　area　toward　the　bridgehead。　They　had　two　hundred　yards　of　brush　and　fallen　tree　trunks　to　negotiate；　but　they　were　making　good　time。　The　soldiers　seemed　fully　occupied　with　the　feint　attack　on　their　flank。　Sally　continued　watching　through　the　scope；　ready　to　provide　covering　fire。
　One　of　the　soldiers　rose　and　turned　to　get　more　grenades。　Sally　aimed　for　his　chest；　finger　on　the　trigger。　He　scurried　back；　dodging　the　rain　of　arrows；　took　two　more　grenades　from　the　can；　and　came　back…never　having　looked　up。
　Sally's　finger　relaxed。　The　Broadbents　were　now　reaching　the　bridge。　It　spanned　a　gap　of　six　hundred　feet；　and　it　had　been　well　engineered；　with　four　cables　of　twisted　fiber；　two　above　and　two　below；　carrying　the　load。　Vertical　cords　between　the　upper　and　lower　sets　of　cables　formed　a　kind　of　support　for　the　surface　of　the　bridge　itself；　formed　from　pieces　of　bamboo　lashed　midway　between　the　two　sets　of　cables。　One　by　one　the　Broadbents　swung　underneath　it；　climbing　out　over　the　chasm　on　one　of　the　lower　cables；　sidestepping　their　way　and　using　the　upright　cords　as　handholds。　The　timing　was　right：　The　mists　were　rising　heavily；　and　within　fifty　yards　the　four　brothers　had　disappeared。　The　attack　continued　for　another　ten　minutes；　with　more　yells　and　showers　of　arrows；　before　dying　away。　It　was　a　miracle。　They　had　gotten　across。　The　crazy　plan　had　worked。
　Now　all　they　had　to　do　was　get　back。
　
　63
　
　The　rickety　bamboo　bridge　stretched　ahead　of　Tom；　swaying　and　rattling　in　the　updrafts；　trailing　vines　and　pieces　into　the　great　chasm　that　yawned　below　it。　The　mists　were　rising　thickly；　and　Tom　could　see　only　twenty　feet　ahead　of　him。　The　sound　of　the　waterfall　echoed　up　from　below　like　the　deep　distant　roar　of　a　furious　beast；　and　the　bridge　shook　with　every　step。
　Borabay　had　gone　first；　Vernon　was　next；　then　Philip。　Tom　had　followed　last。
　They　sidestepped　along　the　bottom　cable；　keeping　out　of　sight　below　the　surface　of　the　bridge。　Tom　followed　his　brothers；　moving　as　fast　as　safety　would　allow。　The　main　cable　was　wet　and　slippery　from　the　rising　mist；　the　twisted　fibers　spongy　and　rotten；　and　many　of　the　vertical　cables　had　broken；　leaving　gaps。　Every　time　a　gust　came　up　from　below；　the　bridge　swayed　and　shuddered；　and　Tom　had　to　stop　and　cling　until　it　had　passed。　He　tried　to　focus　on　just　the　few　feet　of　bridge　in　front　of　him　and　nothing　else。　One　step　at　a　time；　he　said　to　himself。　One　step　at　a　time。
　A　rope；　more　rotten　than　most；　gave　way　in　his　hand；　and　he　experienced　a　brief　sway　of　terror　over　the　abyss　before　he　could　grasp　another。　He　stopped；　letting　his　hammering　heart　subside。　As　he　cautiously　moved　forward；　he　began　testing　each　rope　with　a　tug　before　trusting　it　as　a　handhold。　He　looked　ahead。　His　brothers　were　shadowy　forms　moving　ahead　of　him；　partially　obscured　in　mists；　bathed　in　a　kind　of　shifting　half…light　from　the　powerful　spotlight　shining　behind　them　in　the　fog。
　The　farther　they　edged　out　on　the　bridge；　the　more　it　shook　and　swayed；　the　bamboo　squeaking　and　the　cables　groaning　and　sighing　as　if　alive。　In　the　middle　of　the　bridge　the　wind　currents　grew　stronger；　buffeting　them　as　they　blew　upward。　Once　in　a　while　a　turbulent　gust　caused　the　bridge　to　shake　and　twitch　in　the　most　terrifying　way。　Tom　couldn't　help　but　think　of　Don　Alfonso's　story　of　the　bottomless　chasm；　the　falling　bodies　turning　around　and　around　forever；　disintegrating　into　dust。　He　shivered　and　tried　to　keep　from