alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第57部分

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m　the　fissures；　the　very　steepness　of　the　slope　downwards　and　to　the　left　would　be　enough　to　send　him　into　an　uncontrollable　slide。
　
　And　beyond　everything　lay　the　sea；　the　island…studded；　ice…filled　waters　of　Baffin　Bay。　Off…shore　there　was　a　mile…wide　belt　of　loose　pressure　ice…the　season　was　not　yet　far　enough　advanced　for　the　fantastic　shapes　it　would　assume　in　the　early　spring　…streaked　with　open；　ever…changing　leads　and　dotted　at　rare　intervals　with　small　icebergs…probably　ones　that　had　broken　off　from　the　east　coast；　drifted　south　round　Cape　Farewell　and　then　moved　north　again；　the　whole　half…lost；　unearthly；　and　impossibly；　weirdly；　continuously　altered　in　configuration　by　the　white　drifting　fog　that　hung　miasma…like　over　the　sea。
　
　But　two　things　there　were　that　were　not　lost：　two　ships。　The　one　to　the　south…west；　wraith…like　and　blurred　though　its　lines　were　through　the　swirling　mist；　was　quite　unmistakable；　that　raked　and　slender　silhouette　would　have　been　unmistakable　anywhere：　it　was　a　destroyer；　it　could　only　be　the　Wykenham；　moving　slowly；　cautiously　shorewards　through　the　ice…filled　waters　of　the　bay　to　our　left。　A　heart…warming；　immensely　reassuring　spectacle…or　it　should　have　been：　but　after　the　first　cursory　identifying　glance　I　lost　interest；　my　attention　was　taken　and　pletely　held　by　the　second　ship。
　
　I　couldn't　see　all　of　it；　most　of　its　hull　was　hidden　by　the　precipitous　end　of　the　glacier；　but　its　small　squat　bridge；　two　masts　and　broad；　bluff　seaward…pointing　bows　were　clearly　etched　against　the　mirror…calm　waters　of　the　head　of　the　fjord　and　the　sloping　ice…bare　rock　that　brushed　its　portside　fenders。　I　could　see　no　flag。　It　was　a　trawler；　unmistakably　so；　and　I　thought　grimly　that　it　must　have　been　a　very　special　trawler　indeed　to　have　battered　that　still…visible　path　through　the　ice…choked　mouth　of　the　fjord。
　
　My　gaze　moved　back　to　the　trawler　again　and　a　second　later　I　was　grabbing　Hillcrest's　binoculars　without　so　much　as　by　your　leave。　One　glance　was　enough；　even　in　that　shadowed　gloom　of　the　depth　of　the　fjord　I　could　see　all　I　wanted　to　see　by　the　grey　noon…light。　I　could　see　a　great　deal　more　than　I　wanted　to。　For　a　few　seconds　I　stood　stock…still　listening　desperately　for　the　sound　of　the　Citroen's　engines：　moments　later　I　was　in　the　tractor　cabin；　by　the　radio　table。
　
　〃Still　in　contact　with　the　Triton；　Joss？〃　He　nodded；　and　I　rushed　on：　〃Tell　them　there's　a　group　of　men　ing　ashore　from　a　trawler　in　the　Kangalak　Fjord。　Ten；　twelve；　I'm　not　sure。　And　I'm　not　sure　whether　they're　armed。　I'll　be　damned　surprised　if　they　aren't。　Tell　them　I'm　certain　they're　going　to　move　up　on　the　glacier。〃
　
　〃Now？〃
　
　〃Of　course！〃　I　snapped。　〃Send　a　message　immediately。　And…〃
　
　〃No。　I　meant　are　they　moving　up　the　glacier　now？〃
　
　〃Take　them　ten；　fifteen　minutes…the　fjord　walls　are　pretty　steep　and　it's　tricky　to　climb。。　。　。　After　that　ask　the　Wykenham　if　they　will　send　a　landing　party　ashore。　An　armed　party。　And　for　God's　sake　tell　them　it's　urgent。〃
　
　〃Will　they　get　here　in　time；　Doc？〃　Zagero　was　behind　me。　〃By　the　time　they　lower　a　boat；　row　ashore；　cross　this　headland…it's　half　a　mile　if　it's　an　inch…it'll　take　them　fifteen　minutes；　maybe　more。〃
　
　〃I　know；〃　I　said　irritably…irritably；　but　softly；　for　Joss　was　already　talking　into　the　table　microphone；　in　the　swift；　staccato　yet　strangely　unhurried　voice　of　the　trained　radioman。　〃If　you　have　any　better　suggestions…〃
　
　〃It's　ing！〃　Hillcrest's　excited　face　had　just　appeared　at　the　door　of　the　cabin。　〃e　on！　We　can　hear　it　ing　down　the　glacier。〃
　
　And　indeed　they　could。　The　deep　throaty　roar　of　that　heavy　engine　was　recognisable　anywhere。　Hurriedly　we　moved　about　a　hundred　yards　away　from　the　moraine…ringed　depression　where　we　had　parked　the　tractor；　Jackstraw；　Hillcrest　and　I　each　with　a　rifle　in　our　hands；　and　crouched　down　behind　the　concealing　protection　of　some　ice…covered　debris　at　the　edge　of　the　glacier。　From　where　we　lay　we　could　mand　a　view　of　the　glacier　across　its　entire　width　and　up　to　a　point　several　hundred　yards　away；　where　it　curved　sharply　out　of　sight。
　
　We　needn't　have　hurried。　The　Citroen　was　still　some　good　way　off；　the　sound　of　its　engine　being　funnelled　down　through　the　glacier　valley　well　ahead　of　it；　and　I　had　time　to　look　around　me。　What　I　saw　seemed　good。　I　was　banking　everything　on　the　hope　that　the　Citroen　would　still　be　on　the　same　side　of　the　glacier　as　when　we　had　last　seen　it；　and；　from　what　I　could　see；　the　chances　were　high　that　it　still　would　be。　The　entire　centre　of　the　glacier　was　a　devil's　playground　of　crevasses　ranging　from　hairlines　to　chasms　twenty　and　more　feet　in　width；　transverse；　longitudinal　and　diagonal；　and　as　far　as　I　could　see　they　extended　clear　to　the　other　wall。　But　here；　on　the　left　side；　close　in　to　the　lining　wall　of　moraine；　was　a　relatively　clear　path；　fissured　only　at　long　intervals；　and　not　more　than　thirty　yards　broad。　Thirty　yards！　Jackstraw　could　never　miss　at　this　point…blank　range；　even　with　a　moving　target。
　
　I　stole　a　glance　at　him；　but　his　face　might　have　been　carved　from　the　glacier　itself；　it　was　immobile　and　utterly　devoid　of　expression。　Hillcrest；　on　the　other　hand；　was　restless；　forever　shifting　his　cramped　position：　he　was　unhappy；　I　knew；　he　didn't　tike　this　one　little　bit。　He　didn't　like　murder。　Neither　did　I。　But　this　wasn't　murder；　it　was　a　long　overdue　execution：　it　wasn't　life…taking；　it　was　life…saving；　the　lives　of　Margaret　and　Solly　Levin。　。　。　。
　
　There　came　the　sudden　click；　abnormally　loud　even　above　the　closing　roar　of　the　tractor；　and　Jackstraw；　stretched　his　length　on　the　snow；　had　the　rifle　raised　to　his　shoulder。　And　then；　suddenly；　the　Citroen　had　e　clearly　into　sight　and　Jackstraw　was　gently　lowering　his　rifle　to　the　ground。　I　had　gambled；　and　I　had　lost。　The　tractor　was　on　the　far　side　of　the　glacier；　hugging　the　right　bank　as　closely　as　possible：　even　at　its　nearest　point　of　approach　it　would　still　be　three　hundred　yards　away。
　
　
　CHAPTER　TWELVE…Saturday　12。15　P。M。…12。30　P。M。
　
　The　Citroen　was　travelling　in　a　most　erratic　fashion…one　moment　slowing　down　almost　to　a　stop；　the　next　jerking　forward　and　covering　perhaps　twenty　to　thirty　yards　at　a　rush。　Although　we　couldn't　see　the　glacier　surface　at　that　distance；　it　was　obvious　that　the　driver　was　picking　his　way　round　ice…mounds　and　threading　along　between　fissures　at　the　best　speed　he　could　manage。　But　his　average　speed　was　very　low：　it　would　probably　take　him　almost　five　minutes　to　reach　that　point　opposite　us　where　the　glacier　fell　away　sharply　to　the　left　towards　the　outer　angle　of　the　dog…leg　half…way　down　towards　the　fjord。
　
　All　these　things　I　noted　mechanically；　without　in　any　way　consciously　thinking　of　them。　All　I　could　think　of　was　that　Smallwood　and　Corazzmi　had　outwitted　us　right　up　to　the　last　…almost　certainly；　I　could　understand　now；　they　had　seen　and　been　warned　by　the　rockets　Hillcrest　had　fired　to　give　the　Scimitar　our　position；　and　decided　to　give　that　side　of　the　glacier　the　widest　possible　berth。
　
　But　the　reasons　no　longer　mattered　a　damn。　All　that　mattered　was　the　acplished　fact；　and　the　fact　was　that　Corazzini　and　Smallwood　could　no　longer　be　stopped；　not　in　the　way　we　had　intended。　Even　yet；　of　course；　they　could　be　stopped…but　I　had　no　illusions　but　that　that　would　be　at　the　cost　of　the　lives　of　the　two　hostages　in　the　tractor。
　
　Frantically　I　tried　to　work　out　what　to　do　for　the　best。　There　was　no　chance　in　the　world　that　we　might　approach　them　openly　over　the　glacier…we　would　be　spotted　before　we　had　covered　ten　yards；　and　a　pistol　at　the　heads　of　Margaret　and　Levin　would　halt　us　before　we　got　half…way。　If　we　did　nothing；　let　them　get　away；　I　knew　the　hostages'　chances　of　survival　were　still　pretty　slim…that　trawler　would　almost　certainly　have　a　name　or　number　or　both　and　I　couldn't　see　Smallwood　letting　them　make　an　identification　of　the　trawler　and　then　e　back　to　report　to　us…and　to　all　the　waiting　ships　and　planes　in　the　Davis　Strait…Baffin　Sea　area。　Why　should　he　take　the　slightest　risk　when　it　would　be　so　easy　to　shoot　them；　so　much　easier　still　to　throw　them　down　a　crevasse　or　shove　the