alistairmaclean.seawitch-第32部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


s　sick　bay。
　Durand　was　in　a　highly　apprehensive　state　of　mind；　a　mood　that　transferred　itself　all　too　easily　to　his　four　subordinates。　Although　he　held　control　of　the　Seawitch；　he　knew　that　his　hold　was　a　tenuous　one：　he　had　not　bargained　on　finding　Palermo　and　his　cutthroats　on　board；　and　even　though　he　held　the　master　keys　to　both　the　occidental　and　oriental　quarters　in　his　pocket…　the　drilling　crew　was　in　the　former　quarters；　Palermo　and　his　men　in　the　latter…he　was　acutely　aware　that　there　were　far　too　many　windows　in　both　quarters　and　he　didn't　have　the　men　to　cover　every　possible　exit。　He　had　broadcast　a　message　over　the　external　loud…speaker　that　anyone　found　on　the　platform　would　be　shot　on　sight　and　had　two　men　on　constant　patrol　round　the　oriental　quarters…he　had　no　fear　of　the　unarmed　drilling…rig　crew…and　another　two　constantly　patrolling　the　platform。　He　had　no　fear　of　Lord　Worth；　his　seismologists　and　the　girls…as　sources　of　danger　he　held　them　in　contempt。　Besides；　they　were　unarmed。　Even　so；　the　two　men　patrolling　the　platform　had　been　instructed　to　do　so　in　such　a　fashion　as　to　make　sure　that　at　least　one　had　an　eye　on　the　doors　to　the　suite　of　Lord　Worth；　the　laboratory　and　the　sick　bay；　all　three　of　which　had　intermunicating　doors。
　No　one　inside　those　three　places　had　heard　the　warning　broadcast…and　this；　ironically；　because　Lord　Worth　was　not　above　indulging　in　what　he　regarded　as　the　bare　minimum　of　basic　creature　forts。　Oil　rigs　can　be　unmonly　noisy　places；　and　those　quarters　he　had　heavily　insulated。
　Mitchell　had　been　in　his　tiny　cubicle　of　the　laboratory　at　the　time；　reading　the　plete　plan　of　the　layout　of　the　Seawitch　over　and　over　until　he　was　certain　that　he　could　have　found　his　way　around　the　rig　blindfolded。　This　had　taken　him　about　twenty　minutes。　It　was　in　the　fifth　minute　of　his　studying　that　the　shots　had　been　fired；　but　again；　because　of　the　soundproofing；　the　sound　had　not　reached　him。　He　had　just　put　the　plans　away　in　a　drawer　when　his　door　opened　and　Marina　entered。　She　was　white…faced　and　shaking　and　her　face　was　streaked　with　tears。　He　put　his　arms　round　her　and　she　grabbed　him　tightly。
　〃Why　weren't　you　there？〃　she　sobbed。　〃Why　weren't　you　there？　You　could　have　stopped　them。　You　could　have　saved　them！〃
　Mitchell　took　no　time　out　to　dwell　upon　the　injustices　of　life。　He　said　gently：　〃Stopped　what？　Saved　who？〃
　〃Melinda　and　John。　They've　been　terribly　hurt。〃
　〃How？〃
　〃Shot。〃
　〃Shot？　I　didn't　hear　anything。〃
　〃Of　course　you　didn't。　This　area　is　all　soundproofed。　That's　why　Melinda　and　John　didn't　hear　the　broadcast　warning。〃
　〃Broadcast　warning？　Tell　it　to　me　slowly。〃
　So　she　told　him　as　slowly　and　coherently　as　she　could。　There　had　been　such　a　warning　but　it　had　gone　unheard　in　Lord　Worth's　suite。　The　rain　had　stopped；　at　least　temporarily；　and　when　Mitchell　had　retired　to　study　the　plans；　Melinda　and　Roomer　had　elected　to　go　for　a　stroll。　They　had　been　wandering　around　the　foot　of　the　drillinig　rig；　where　most　of　the　lights　had　been　turned　off　since　Durand　had　ordered　the　abandonment　of　drilling；　and　it　was　there　that　they　had　been　gunned　down　without　warning。
　〃Terribly　hurt；　you　said。　How　bad？〃
　'Tm　not　sure。　Dr。　Greenshaw　is　operating　in　the　sick　bay。　I'm　not　a　coward；　you　know　that；　but　there　was　so　much　blood　that　I　didn't　want　to　look。〃

　Arrived　in　the　sick　bay；　Mitchell　could　hardly　blame　her。　Melinda　and　Roomer　lay　in　adjacent　cots　and　both　were　saturated　with　blood。　Melinda　already　had　her　left　shoulder　heavily　bandaged。　Roomer　had　bandages　swathing　his　neck　and　Dr。　Greenshaw　was　working　on　his　chest。
　Lord　Worth；　his　face　a　mask　of　bitter　fury；　was　sitting　in　a　chair。　Durand；　his　face　a　mask　of　nothingness；　was　standing　by　the　doorway。　Mitchell　looked　speculatively　at　both；　then　spoke　to　Dr。　Greenshaw。　〃What　can　you　tell　so　far；　Doctor？〃
　〃Would　you　listen　to　him？〃　Roomer's　voice　was　a　hoarse　whisper　and　his　face　creased　with　near…agony。　〃Never　think　of　asking　us　how　we　feel。〃
　〃In　a　minute。　Doctor？〃
　〃Melinda's　left　shoulder　is　bad；　Tve　extracted　the　bullet　but　she　needs　immediate　surgery。　I'm　a　surgeon；　but　I'm　not　an　orthopedic　surgeon；　and　that's　what　she　must　have。　Roomer　hasn't　been　quite　so　lucky。　He　got　hit　twice。　The　one　through　the　neck　missed　his　carotid　artery　by　a　whisker；　but　the　bullet　passed　straight　through　and　there's　no　worry　there。　The　chest　wound　is　serious。　Not　fatal　but　very　serious。　The　bullet　struck　the　left　lung；　no　doubt　about　that；　but　the　internal　bleeding　isn't　that　much；　so　I　think　it's　a　nick；　no　more。　The　trouble　is；　I　think　the　bullet　is　lodged　against　the　spine。〃
　〃Can　he　wiggle　his　toes？〃
　Roomer　moaned。　〃My　God；　what　sympathy。〃
　〃He　can。　But　the　bullet　should　be　removed　as　soon　as　possible。　I　could　do　it　but　I　have　no　X…ray　equipment　here。　I'll　give　them　both　blood　transfusions　in　a　moment。〃
　〃Shouldn't　they　be　flown　to　a　hospital　as　soon　as　possible？〃
　〃Of　course。〃
　Mitchell　looked　at　Durand。　〃Well？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃But　it　wasn't　their　fault　They　didn't　hear　the　warning。'*
　〃Tough。　There's　no　way　I'll　fly　them　ashore。　Think　I　want　a　battalion　of　U。　S。　Marines　out　here　in　a　few　hours？〃
　〃If　they　die　it'll　be　your　fault。〃
　〃Everybody's　got　to　die　sometime。〃　Durand　left；　slamming　the　door　behind　him。
　〃Dear；　dear。〃　Roomer　tried　to　shake　his　head；　then　winced　at　the　pain　in　his　neck。　〃He　shouldn't　have　said　that。〃
　Mitchell　turned　to　Lord　Worth。　〃You　can　be
　Seawitch
　of　great　help；　sir。　Your　suite　is　in　direct　contact　with　the　radio　room；　can　you　hear　what　is　being　said　in　the　radio　room？〃
　〃That's　no　problem。　Two　switches　and　I　can　hear　both　sides　of　any　conversation；　either　on　the　telephone；　earphones　or　wall　receivers。〃
　〃All　right…go；　and　don't　stop　listening　for　a　second。'*　He　looked　at　the　two　patients　on　the　cots。　〃We'll　have　them　airborne　for　the　hospital　within　a　half　hour。〃
　〃How　can　that　be　possible？〃
　〃I　don't　know。〃　Mitchell　sounded　vague。　〃But　we'll　think　of　something。〃
　Lord　Worth　left。　Mitchell　pulled　out　a　slender　pencil　flashlight　and　started　to　flick　it　on　and　off　in　apparent　aimlessness。　His　plexion　had　gone　pale　and　the　hands　that　held　the　pencil　light　trembled　slightly。　Marina　looked　at　him　first　unprehendingly；　then　in　dismay；　finally　in　something　approaching　contempt。　Incredulously；　she　said：　〃You're　frightened。〃
　〃Your　gun？〃　Mitchell　said　to　Roomer。
　〃When　they　went　off　for　help　I　managed　to　drag　myself　a　bit　nearer　the　edge。　I　unclipped　the　belt　and　threw　the　whole　thing　over　the　side。〃
　〃Good。　We're　still　in　the　clear。〃　He　seemed　to　bee　aware　of　the　tremor　in　his　hands；　put　away　his　flash　and　thrust　his　hands　into　his　pockets。　He　said　to　Melinda：　〃Who　shot　you？〃
　〃A　pair　of　very　unpleasant　characters　named　Kowenski　　and　Rindler。　　We　had　trouble　with　them　before。〃
　〃Kowenski　and　Rindler；〃　Mitchell　repeated。　He　left　the　sick　bay。
　Marina　said；　half　in　sadness；　hah*　in　bitterness：　〃My　idol　with　the　feet　of　clay。〃
　Roomer　said　huskily：　〃Put　out　the　light　and　then　put　out　the　light。〃
　〃What　did　you　say？〃
　〃I　didn't　say　it。　Man　named　Othello。　That's　the　trouble　with　you　millionaires*　daughters。　Illiterate。　First　Mitchell　puts　out　the　lights。　He's　got　cat's　eyes。　He　can　see　in　almost　total　darkness　where　an　ordinary　man　is　blind。　Did　you　know　that？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Gives　him　a　tremendous　advantage。　And　then　he　puts　out　other　lights。〃
　〃I　know　what　you　mean　and　I　don't　believe　you。　I　saw　him　shaking。〃
　〃Ahh　。。。　you　don't　deserve　him。〃
　She　stared　at　him　hi　disbelief。　〃What　did　you　say？〃
　〃You　heard　me。〃　Roomer　sounded　tired　and　the　doctor　was　looking　at　him　in　disapproval。　He　went　on　in　a　somber　voice：　〃Kowenski　and　Rindler　are　dead　men。　They　have　just　minutes　to　live。　He　loves　Melinda　almost　as　much　as　he　does　you；　and　I've　been　his　closest　friend　and　partner　since　we　were　kids。　Mitchell　looks　after　his　own。〃　He　smiled　faintly。　〃I'm　afraid　he　takes　care　of　things　in　a　sort　of　final　way。〃
　〃But　he　was　shaking　。　。　。〃　Her　voice　was　now　lacking　in　conviction。
　〃He　isn't　afraid　of　anything　that　lives。　As　for　the　shaking…he's　a　throwback　to　the　old　Scandinavian　berserkers：　he's　just　trying　to　hold　in　his　rage。　He　usually　smiles。〃　He　smil