cussler.blueandgold-第30部分

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　Gamay　took　another　look　over　the　side。　Nine　nylon　lines；　three　at　each　corner；　were　attached　to　the　dangling　raft。
　
　〃There's　a　Swiss　Army　knife　in　the　storage　box；〃　she　said。
　
　Paul　tested　the　sharpness　of　the　blade　with　his　thumb　and　tucked　the　knife　in　the　big　pocket　of　his　cargo　shorts。
　
　〃You　take　us　in；〃　he　said。　〃Get　us　as　low　to　the　water　as　you　can。　I'll　cut　the　raft　free。〃
　
　〃Then　I　bring　this　buggy　to　a　hover　and　we　abandon　ship　and　go　in　for　a　swim；〃　Gamay　said。　
　〃As　easy　as　one…two…three；〃　Paul　said　with　a　grin。
　
　Gamay　took　over　the　steering　wheel　and　put　the　airship　into　a　slow　turn　away　from　the　falls。　Sunlight　streaming　through　the　mists　that　rose　off　the　lake　created　multiple　rainbows。　Gamay　hoped　it　was　a　good　sign。
　
　The　gondola　tilted　from　Paul's　weight　as　he　climbed　out　onto　the　right　side　of　the　framework。　He　looked　down　at　the　red　tri　angle　swinging　about　thirty　feet　below　and　made　his　way　to　the　rear　of　the　gondola　behind　the　tanks　and　burners。　He　sawed　away　at　the　lines　attached　to　the　rear　left　corner　of　the　raft；　then　continued　across　the　gondola's　framework　and　repeated　his　work。　Attached　to　the　gondola　only　by　its　nose　lines；　the　raft　bobbed　and　twisted　in　the　wind。
　
　Using　a　light　foot　on　the　burner　control；　Gamay　aimed　for　a　spot　near　the　river；　bringing　the　airship　down　in　a　long；　easy　glide。　She　was　starting　to　think　that　his　crazy　scheme　might　work。　Her　optimism　vanished　as　the　burner　went　ploof；　then　was　silent。　They　had　run　out　of　fuel　at　an　altitude　of　a　thousand　feet。
　
　There　was　no　immediate　change　in　the　airship's　behavior。　The　heated　air　maintained　the　envelope's　streamlined　shape；　and　the　propeller　kept　the　craft　at　a　shallow　angle。　The　airship　continued　on　its　heading。　At　five　hundred　feet　altitude　the　situation　began　to　e　apart　at　the　seams。　As　the　air　cooled；　lift　was　lost；　and　the　angle　of　descent　became　steeper。　Pressure　inside　the　envelope　diminished　as　well；　and　the　front　end　developed　a　dent。　The　airship　assumed　the　shape　of　a　rotten　tomato　and　swung　to　the　left。
　
　Paul　was　working　a　few　feet　directly　in　front　of　Gamay。　He　had　severed　two　lines　and　was　about　to　work　on　the　third。　He　had　bee　overconfident　and　had　released　his　safety　grip　on　the　framework　when　the　blimp　swerved。　Not　expecting　the　sudden　maneuver；　he　lost　his　balance　and　tumbled　off。　Gamay　yelled　helplessly。
　
　The　gondola　was　jerked　violently　and　nosed　down。　Gamay　leaned　over　and　saw　Paul　clutching　the　line　immediately　above　the　dangling　raft；　which　twisted　violently；　snapping　back　and
　forth　like　a　child's　swing　in　the　wind。　The　blimp's　forward　motion　had　slowed　almost　to　a　stop。　She　looked　up　at　the　envelope；　which　had　bee　a　formless　blob；　then　back　under　the　gondola。　Paul　was　still　hanging　on。　Trout　didn't　want　to　be　under　the　blimp　when　it　came　down。　He　cut　the　line　and　plunged　feet　first　into　the　water　from　a　height　of　about　fifty　feet。　As　he　came　to　the　surface　the　raft　hit　the　water　with　a　great　splash。
　
　Gamay　was　operating　on　pure　adrenaline。　She　unsnapped　her　harness；　climbed　out　onto　the　side　of　the　gondola；　took　a　deep　breath；　and　dove　off。　Despite　the　shakiness　of　the　platform　and　the　fact　that　it　was　plunging　rapidly　toward　the　water；　Gamay　did　a　classic　swan　dive　that　would　have　earned　her　a　top　score　in　an　Olympic　petition。　She　hit　the　water　with　arms　out　stretched；　her　body　straight；　went　deep；　then　kicked　her　way　quickly　back　to　the　shimmering　surface。　Just　in　time　to　see　the　airship　e　down　directly　on　top　of　the　raft。
　
　The　raft　disappeared　under　the　layered　folds　of　the　envelope　along　with　any　hope　it　could　be　used　to　float　their　way　home。　She　was　more　concerned　about　Paul　for　the　moment　and　was　relieved　beyond　words　when　she　heard　his　voice　calling；　although　she　still　couldn't　see　him。
　
　Pulled　under　by　the　gondola；　the　envelope　sank；　taking　the　raft　with　it。　She　saw　Paul's　head　bobbing　on　the　other　side　of　the　sinking　airship。　He　waved；　and　they　swam　toward　each　other；　meeting　in　the　middle。　They　treaded　water　for　a　few　moments；　gazing　with　awe　at　the　cascading　streams。　Then；　taking　advantage　of　the　push　from　the　water　rippling　out　from　the　falls；　they　began　to　swim　for　the　distant　shore。
　
　Chapter　13
　FBI　special　agent　Miguel　Gomez　leaned　his　beefy　wrestler's　body　back　in　his　swivel　chair；　laced　his　fingers　behind　his　head；　and　gazed　in　wonderment　at　the　two　men　sitting　on　the　other　side　of　his　desk。
　
　〃You　gentlemen　must　like　tortillas　one　hell　of　a　lot　to　want　to　see　Enrico　Pedralez。〃
　
　Austin　said；　〃We'll　pass　on　the　tortillas。　We　just　want　to　ask　Pedralez　a　few　questions。〃
　
　〃Impossible；〃　the　agent　said　flatly；　shaking　his　head　for　emphasis。　His　eyes　were　as　dark　as　raisins；　and　they　had　the　sad　and　wary　expression　cops　get　when　they　have　seen　it　all。
　
　〃I　don't　understand；〃　Austin　said；　a　hint　of　impatience　in　his　voice。　〃You　make　an　appointment　with　his　secretary。　You　go　in　and　have　a　chat。　Just　like　any　businessman。〃
　
　〃The　Farmer　isn't　just　any　businessman。〃
　
　〃The　Farmer？　I　was　unaware　he　was　into　agriculture；　too。〃
　
　Gomez　couldn't　hold　back　a　toothy　grin。　〃Guess　you　could　call　it　agriculture。　Did　you　hear　about　the　big　search　for　bodies　buried　at　a　couple　of　ranches　just　over　the　border？〃
　
　〃Sure；〃　Austin　said。　〃It　was　in　all　the　papers。　They　found　dozens　of　corpses；　probably　people　killed　by　drug　dealers。〃
　
　〃I　was　one　of　the　FBI　field　agents　the　Mexicans　allowed　to　e　in　on　that　operation。　The　ranches　were　owned　by　Enrico；　or；　rather；　in　the　names　of　guys　who　worked　for　Pedralez。〃　
　
　　Zavala；　who　was　sitting　in　the　other　chair；　said；　〃You're　telling　us　the　tortilla　king　is　a　drug　dealer？〃
　
　Gomez　leaned　forward　onto　his　desk　and　counted　on　his　fingers。　〃Drugs；　prostitution；　extortion；　kidnapping；　Medicaid　fraud；　purse　snatching；　and　making　a　public　nuisance　of　himself。　You　name　it。　His　organization　is　like　any　other　conglomerate　that　doesn't　put　all　its　eggs　in　one　basket。　The　bad　boys　are　taking　their　cue　from　Wall　Street。　Diversification　is　the　byword　in　the　Mexican　mafia　these　days。〃
　
　〃Mafia；〃　Austin　said。　〃That　might　present　a　little　problem。〃
　
　〃Nothing　little　about　it；〃　the　agent　said。　He　was　on　a　roll。　〃The　Mexican　mafia　makes　the　Sicilians　look　like　choir　boys。　The　old　Cosa　Nostra　would　whack　a　guy；　but　it　was　hands　off　the　family。　The　Russian　mob　will　wipe　out　your　wife　and　kids　if　you　get　out　of　line；　but　even　with　them；　it's　purely　business。　With　the　Mexicans；　it's　personal。　Anyone　who　gets　in　their　way　is　of　fending　their　machismo。　Enrico　doesn't　just　kill　his　enemies；　he　grinds　them；　their　relatives；　and　their　friends　into　powder。〃
　
　〃Thanks　for　the　warning；〃　Austin　said；　unfazed　by　the　agent's　monologue。　〃Now　will　you　tell　us　how　we　go　about　seeing　him？〃
　
　Gomez　let　out　a　whooping　laugh。　He　had　wondered　about　this　pair　since　they　walked　into　his　office　and　flashed　their　NUMA　identification。　He　only　knew　of　the　National　Underwater　&　Marine　Agency　by　name；　that　it　was　the　undersea　equivalent　of　NASA。　Austin　and　Zavala　didn't　fit　in　with　his　preconceived　notion　of　ocean　scientists。　The　bronze…skinned　man　with　the　penetrating　blue…green　eyes　and　albino　hair　looked　as　if　he　could　knock　down　walls　with　those　battering…ram　shoulders。　His　partner　was　soft…spoken；　and　a　slight　smile　played　around　his　lips；　but　with　a　mask　and　a　sword　he　would　have　been　a　casting　director's　ideal　choice　to　play　Zorro。
　
　〃Okay；　guys；〃　Gomez　said；　shaking　his　head　in　defeat。　〃Since　it　is　still　against　the　law　to　assist　a　suicide；　I　would　feel　better　if　you　told　me　what's　going　down。　Why　is　NUMA　interested　in　a　tortilla　plant　owned　by　a　Mexican　crook？〃　
　
　　〃There　was　an　underwater　explosion　in　the　cove　behind　the　plant　Pedralez　owns　in　Baja　California。　We　want　to　ask　him　if　he　knows　anything。　We're　not　the　FBI。　We're　simply　a　scientific　organization　looking　for　a　few　answers。〃
　
　〃Doesn't　matter。　All　feds　are　the　enemy。　Asking　questions　about　his　business　would　be　considered　an　aggressive　act。　
　
　　〃I　think　I　see　where　you're　going　with　this。　How　do　you　let　Enrico　know　they're　available？〃
　
　〃Every　dealer　has　a　client　list　s