cc.goldenbuddha-第4部分

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n　top　of　it。　Rising　two　hundred　feet　atop　the　cliffs　on　the　right　stood　the　old　colonial　fortress　known　as　Morro　Castle。　
　Morales　noticed　that　Smith　and　the　members　of　his　mangy　crew　standing　on　the　bridge　seemed　interested　in　the　defenses　that　had　been　dug　into　the　hillside　when　Fidel　Castro　had　thought　the　United　States　was　going　to　attack　Cuba。　They　studied　the　gun　and　missile　emplacements　through　expensive　binoculars。　
　Morales　smiled　to　himself。　Let　them　look　all　they　wantedmost　of　the　defenses　were　deserted。　Only　two　small　fortresses　maintained　a　small　pany　of　soldiers　to　man　the　missile　emplacements　in　the　unlikely　event　an　unwele　vessel　tried　to　enter　the　harbor。　
　Morales　threaded　his　way　through　the　buoys　and　steered　the　Oregon　deftly　around　the　twists　and　turns　of　the　channel；　which　soon　opened　into　the　broad；　ball…shaped　harbor　surrounded　by　the　city　of　Santiago。　The　wheel　felt　strange　to　him；　though。　The　odd　feeling　was　barely　perceptible；　but　there　nonetheless。　Whenever　he　turned　the　wheel；　there　seemed　to　be　a　short　lag　before　the　rudder　responded。　He　made　a　quick　but　very　slight　turn　to　starboard　before　bringing　the　wheel　back　to　port。　It　was　definitely　there；　almost　like　an　echo；　a　two…second　delay。　He　did　not　sense　sluggishness　from　the　steering　machinery；　but　rather　a　pause。　It　had　to　e　from　another　origin。　Yet　when　the　response　came；　it　was　quick　and　firm。　But　why　the　hesitation？　
　〃Your　helm　has　an　off　feel　to　it。〃　
　〃Yeah；〃　Smith　grunted。　〃It's　been　that　way　for　a　few　days。　Next　port　we　enter　with　a　shipyard；　I'll　have　the　spindles　on　the　rudder　looked　at。〃　
　It　still　made　no　sense　to　Morales；　but　the　ship　was　entering　the　open　part　of　the　bay　off　the　city　now；　and　he　pushed　the　mystery　from　his　mind。　He　called　the　harbor　officials　over　the　ship's　radio　and　kept　them　informed　of　his　progress；　and　was　given　orders　for　the　anchorage。　
　Morales　pointed　out　the　buoys　to　Smith　that　marked　the　mooring　area　and　ordered　the　ship　brought　to　slow　speed。　He　then　swung　the　stern　around　until　the　bow　was　facing　the　ining　tide　before　ordering　all　stop。　The　Oregon　slowed　to　a　halt　in　an　open　area　between　a　Canadian　container　ship　and　a　Libyan　oil　tanker。　
　〃You　may　drop　your　anchor；〃　he　said　to　Smith；　who　acknowledged　with　a　nod　as　he　held　a　loudspeaker　in　front　of　his　face。　
　〃Let　go　anchor！〃　he　shouted　at　his　crew。　The　mand　was　answered　a　few　seconds　later　by　the　rattling　clatter　of　the　chain　links　against　the　hawsehole；　followed　by　a　great　splash　as　the　anchor　plunged　into　the　water。　The　bow　of　the　ship　became　hazy　from　the　cloud　of　dust　and　rust　that　burst　from　the　chain　locker。　
　Morales　released　his　grip　on　the　worn　spokes　of　the　wheel　and　turned　to　Smith。　〃You　will；　of　course；　pay　the　pilot's　fee　when　you　turn　over　your　documents　to　the　harbor　officials。〃　
　〃Why　wait？〃　snorted　Smith。　He　reached　into　a　pocket　of　his　coveralls　and　produced　a　wad　of　crinkled　American　hundred…dollar　bills。　He　counted　out　fifteen　bills；　then　hesitated；　looked　into　Morales's　shocked　expression；　and　said；　〃Oh；　what　the　heck；　suppose　we　make　it　an　even　two　thousand　dollars。〃　
　Without　the　least　indecision；　Morales　took　the　bills　and　slipped　them　into　his　wallet。　
　〃You　are　most　generous；　Captain　Smith。　I　will　notify　the　officials　that　the　pilot's　fee　was　paid　in　full。〃　
　Smith　signed　the　required　affidavits　and　logged　the　mooring。　He　put　a　massive　arm　around　the　Cuban's　shoulder。　〃Now　about　them　girls。　Where's　a　good　place　in　Santiago　to　meet　them？〃　
　〃The　cabarets　on　the　waterfront　are　where　you'll　find　both　cheap　entertainment　and　drinks。〃　
　〃I'll　tell　my　crew。〃　
　〃Good…bye；　Captain。〃　Morales　did　not　extend　his　hand。　He　already　felt　unclean　just　by　being　on　board　the　ship；　he　could　not　bring　himself　to　grip　the　greasy　hand　of　the　obnoxious　captain。　Morales's　easygoing　Cuban　warmth　had　been　cooled　by　the　surroundings　and　he　didn't　want　to　waste　another　second　on　board　the　Oregon。　Leaving　the　wheelhouse；　
　he　dropped　down　the　ladder　to　the　deck　and　descended　to　the　waiting　pilot　boat；　still　stunned　at　experiencing　the　filthiest　ship　he　had　ever　piloted　into　the　harbor。　Which　is　just　what　the　owners　of　the　Oregon　wanted　him　to　think。　
　If　Morales　had　examined　the　ship　more　closely；　he　might　have　realized　it　was　all　a　facade。　The　Oregon　rode　low　in　the　water　because　of　specially　fitted　ballast　tanks；　which　when　filled　with　water　lowered　the　hull　to　make　it　look　as　though　it　were　loaded　with　cargo。　Even　the　engine　tremors　were　mechanically　staged。　The　ship's　engines　were　whisper…silent　and　vibrationless。　
　And　the　coating　of　rust　throughout　the　ship？　It　was　artistically　applied　paint。　
　
　
　SATISFIED　THAT　THE　pilot　and　his　boat　had　pulled　away　from　the　Oregon；　Captain　Smith　stepped　over　to　a　handrail　mounted　on　the　deck　that　did　not　seem　to　serve　any　particular　purpose。　He　gripped　it　and　pressed　a　button　on　the　underside。　The　square　section　of　the　deck　on　which　Smith　was　standing　suddenly　began　descending　until　it　stopped　in　a　vast；　brightly　lit　room　filled　with　puters；　automated　controls　and　several　large　consoles　containing　munications　and　weapons…firing　systems。　The　deck　in　the　mand　center　was　richly　carpeted；　the　walls　were　paneled　in　exotic　woods　and　the　furniture　looked　as　if　it　had　e　straight　from　a　designer's　showroom。　This　room　was　the　real　heart　of　the　Oregon。　
　The　six　peoplefour　men　and　two　womenneatly　dressed　in　shorts；　flowered　shirts　and　white　blouses　were　busy　manning　the　various　systems。　One　woman　was　scanning　an　array　of　TV　monitors　that　covered　every　section　of　Santiago　Bay；　while　a　man　zoomed　a　camera　on　the　pilot　boat　as　it　turned　and　headed　into　the　main　channel。　No　one　bothered　to　give　the　fat　captain　half　a　glance。　Only　a　man　dressed　in　khaki　shorts　and　a　green　golf　shirt　approached　him。　
　〃All　go　well　with　the　pilot？〃　asked　Max　Hanley；　the　ship's　corporate　president；　who　directed　all　operational　systems；　including　the　ship's　engines。　
　〃The　pilot　noticed　the　delay　in　the　helm。〃　
　Hanley　grinned。　〃If　only　he'd　known　he　was　steering　a　dead　wheel。　We'll　have　to　make　some　adjustments；　though。　You　speak　to　him　in　Spanish？〃　
　Smith　smiled。　〃My　best　Yankee　English。　Why　let　him　know　I　speak　his　language？　That　way；　I　could　tell　if　he　played　any　tricks　over　the　radio　with　the　harbor　officials　as　we　anchored。〃　Smith　pulled　back　a　sleeve　of　his　grimy　coveralls　and　checked　a　Timex　watch　with　a　badly　scratched　lens。　〃Thirty　minutes　until　dark。〃　　〃The　equipment　in　the　moon　pool　is　all　ready。〃　
　〃And　the　landing　crew？〃　
　〃Standing　by。〃　
　〃I　just　have　time　to　get　rid　of　these　smelly　clothes　and　get　decent；〃　said　Cabrillo；　heading　toward　his　cabin　down　a　hallway　hung　with　paintings　by　modern　artists。　
　The　crew　cabins　were　concealed　inside　two　of　the　cargo　holds　and　were　as　plush　as　rooms　in　a　five…star　hotel。　There　was　no　separation　between　officers　and　crew　on　the　Oregon。　All　were　educated　people；　highly　trained　in　their　respective　fieldselite　men　and　women　who　had　served　in　the　armed　forces。　The　ship　was　owned　by　its　staff；　who　were　stockholders。　There　were　no　ranks。　Cabrillo　was　chairman；　Hanley；　president；　the　others　held　various　other　titles。　They　were　all　mercenaries；　here　to　make　a　profitthough　that　did　not　necessarily　rule　out　good　works　at　the　same　timehired　by　countries　or　large　panies　to　perform　clandestine　services　around　the　world；　very　often　at　great　risk。　
　
　THE　MAN　WHO　left　the　cabin　twenty　minutes　later　did　not　look　like　the　man　who'd　entered。　The　greasy　hairpiece；　scruffy　beard　and　grimy　coveralls　were　gone；　as　was　the　foul　smell。　So　was　the　Timex；　
　now　replaced　with　a　stainless…steel　Concord　chronograph。　In　addition；　the　man　had　dropped　at　least　a　hundred　pounds。　
　Juan　Rodriguez　Cabrillo　had　transformed　himself　from　the　grimy　sea　dog　Smith　to　his　true　self　again。　A　tall　man　in　his　forties；　ruggedly　handsome；　he　stared　through　pixie…blue　eyes。　His　blond　hair　was　trimmed　in　a　crew　cut　and　a　western　cowboy…style　mustache　sprouted　from　his　upper　lip。　
　He　hurried　down　the　corridor　to　a　far　door　and　entered　a　control　room　perched　high　inside　a　vast　cavern　in　the　hull　amidships。　The　three…deck…high　moon　pool；　as　it　was　called；　was　where　all　the　Oregon