p&c.icelimit-第57部分

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fact　that　he　had　seen　only　one　guard　did　not　mean　there　could　not　be　another。
　Moving　around　the　rear　of　the　shack　and　keeping　out　of　the　light；　he　crept　along　the　edge　of　the　cleared　area；　following　the　path　the　guard　had　walked。　It　was　most　curious：　there　was　nothing　here　but　snow。　As　he　stepped　forward　again；　the　ground　yielded　suddenly　beneath　one　of　his　snowshoes；　and　he　scrambled　backward　in　surprise。　Exploring　cautiously；　on　his　hands　and　knees　now；　he　felt　something　strange　beneath　the　thin　covering　of　snow。　It　was　not　earth；　it　was　not　a　crevasse；　there　was　a　hollow　beneath　the　ground；　with　some　kind　of　cloth　stretched　tight　across　it；　held　up　by　spacers。
　Carefully；　Timmer　made　his　way　back　to　the　shadows　behind　the　shack。　Before　he　explored　further；　he　would　have　to　make　sure　there　were　no　surprises　inside。　Keeping　his　knife　poised；　he　crept　around　to　the　front；　opened　the　door　a　crack；　and　glanced　within。　It　was　deserted。　He　slipped　inside　and　closed　the　door　behind　him。　He　pulled　out　a　small　flashlight　and　swept　it　around。　The　beam　illuminated　nothing　but　kegs　full　of　nails。
　Why　would　somebody　post　a　guard　in　front　of　a　useless；　empty　shack？
　Then　he　noticed　something。　Quickly；　he　turned　out　his　light。　A　faint　line　of　light　was　ing　from　the　edge　of　a　steel　plate　beneath　one　of　the　kegs。
　Moving　it　aside；　Timmer　saw　a　trapdoor　of　banded　metal。　He　knelt　beside　it；　listening　intently　for　a　moment。　Then　he　grasped　the　door　and　lifted　it　gingerly。
　After　the　hours　of　waiting　and　watching　in　the　winter　night；　the　fluorescence　that　streamed　up　was　blinding。　He　closed　the　trapdoor　again　and　crouched　in　the　darkness；　thinking。　Then　he　removed　his　snowshoes；　concealed　them　in　the　far　er　of　the　hut；　and　opened　the　door　again；　waiting　a　moment　for　his　eyes　to　adjust。　Then；　knife　in　hand；　he　descended　the　ladder。
　Thirty　feet　down；　he　stepped　off　the　ladder　into　the　tunnel。　He　paused。　It　was　warmer　down　here；　but　at　first　Timmer　barely　noticed：　in　the　glare　of　the　light　he　felt　exposed　and　vulnerable。　He　moved　rapidly　along　the　tunnel；　keeping　low。　This　was　like　no　gold　mine　he　had　ever　heard　of。　In　fact；　it　was　like　no　mine　at　all。
　Reaching　a　junction；　he　paused　to　look　around。　There　was　nobody：　no　sound；　no　movement。　He　licked　his　lips；　wondering　what　to　do　next。
　Then　he　paused。　Up　ahead；　the　tunnel　widened。　There　was　an　open　space　ahead；　with　something　very　large　in　it。　He　crept　to　the　edge　of　the　open　area　and　shined　his　light　around。　A　giant　cart。
　Timmer　approached　it　cautiously；　creeping　along　the　wall。　It　was　a　huge　steel　flatbed　trailer；　perhaps　a　hundred　feet　long。　Mounted　to　its　underside　were　big　tires：　hundreds　of　them；　on　gleaming　titanium　axles。　His　eyes　traveled　slowly　upward。　Built　on　the　cart　was　a　plex　pyramid　of　wooden　struts　and　members。　And　nestled　in　that　was　something　Timmer　had　never　seen　or　imagined　before。　Something　huge　and　red。　Something　that　gleamed　with　impossible　richness　in　the　artificial　light　of　the　tunnel。
　He　looked　around　again；　then　approached　the　cart。　Setting　one　foot　on　the　closest　tire；　he　pulled　himself　onto　the　platform；　breathing　heavily。　He　was　quickly　overheating　in　his　heavy　snowsuit；　but　he　ignored　the　disfort。　Overhead；　a　large　tarp　was　stretched　tightly　across　the　open　roof：　the　tarp　onto　which　he　had　stepped。　But　Timmer　had　no　interest　in　this。　His　eyes　were　on　the　thing　resting　in　the　huge　cradle。
　Very　carefully；　he　climbed　the　wooden　struts　toward　it。　There　was　no　doubt　about　it：　this；　this　was　what　the　Americans　had　e　for。　But　what　was　it？
　There　was　no　time　to　waste；　there　was　no　time　even　to　hunt　for　the　little　mestizo。　andante　Vallenar　would　want　to　know　about　this　right　away。　And　yet　still　Timmer　hesitated；　balanced　on　the　wooden　cradle。
　The　thing　was　almost　ethereal　in　its　beauty。　It　was　as　if　it　had　no　surface；　as　if　he　could　put　his　hand　forward　and　thrust　it　right　into　its　ruby　depths。　As　he　stared；　he　thought　he　could　see　subtle　patterns　within；　shifting　and　changing；　coruscating　in　the　light。　He　almost　imagined　a　coldness　emanating　from　it；　cooling　his　overheated　face。　It　was　the　most　beautiful；　otherworldly　thing　he　had　ever　seen。
　Without　taking　his　eyes　away；　Timmer　slipped　the　knife　into　a　pocket；　pulled　off　his　glove；　and　held　his　hand　forward；　slowly；　almost　reverently；　toward　the　rich　and　shining　surface。
　
　Isla　Desolacion；
　11：15　P。M。
　
　SAM　MCFARLANE　jerked　awake；　heart　pounding。　He　would　have　thought　it　a　nightmare；　if　the　sound　of　the　explosion　was　not　still　reverberating　across　the　landscape。　He　stood　bolt　upright；　the　chair　falling　to　the　floor　behind　him。　From　the　corner　of　his　eye　he　saw　that　Glinn；　too；　was　on　his　feet；　listening。　As　they　met　each　other's　gaze；　the　lights　in　the　hut　winked　out。　There　was　a　moment　of　pitch…blackness；　and　then　an　emergency　light　snapped　on　over　the　door；　bathing　the　room　in　pale　orange。
　〃What　the　hell　was　that？〃　McFarlane　said。　His　voice　was　almost　drowned　out　by　a　loud　gust　of　wind：　the　window　had　been　blown　out；　and　snow　swirled　into　the　hut；　mingling　with　wooden　splinters　and　shards　of　glass。
　Glinn　approached　the　window　and　gazed　out　into　the　stormy　darkness。　Then　he　glanced　at　Garza。　He；　too；　was　on　his　feet。　〃Who's　got　duty？〃
　〃Hill。〃
　Glinn　raised　a　radio。　〃Hill。　This　is　Glinn。　Report。〃　He　took　his　thumb　from　the　transmit　button　and　listened。　〃Hill！〃　he　called　again。　Then　he　switched　frequencies。　〃Forward　post？　Thompson？〃　He　was　answered　by　a　loud　hiss　of　static。
　He　dropped　the　radio。　〃Radio's　out；　I'm　not　getting　any　responses。〃　He　turned　back　to　Garza；　who　was　pulling　on　his　snowsuit。　〃Where　are　you　going？〃
　〃To　the　electrical　hut。〃
　〃Negative。　We'll　go　together。〃
　Glinn's　tone　had　bee　sharper；　military。　〃Yes；　sir；〃　Garza　replied　briskly。
　There　was　a　clattering　outside；　then　Amira　tumbled　in　from　the　munications　hut；　snow　clinging　to　her　shoulders。
　〃Power's　down　everywhere；〃　she　gasped。　〃All　we've　got　is　the　reserve。〃
　〃Understood；〃　Glinn　said。　A　small　Glock　17　pistol　had　appeared　in　his　hand。　He　checked　the　magazine；　then　tucked　it　into　his　belt。
　McFarlane　had　turned　to　reach　for　his　own　snowsuit。　As　he　thrust　his　arms　into　the　sleeves；　he　saw　Glinn　look　at　him。　〃Don't　even　say　it；〃　McFarlane　began。　〃I'm　ing　with　you。〃
　Glinn　hesitated；　and　saw　his　resolve。　He　turned　to　Amira。　〃You　stay　here。〃
　〃But　…　〃
　〃Rachel；　we　need　you　here。　Lock　the　door　after　we　leave。　We'll　have　a　guard　here　shortly。〃
　Within　moments；　three　of　Glinn's　men；　Thompson；　Rocco；　and　Sanders；　appeared　at　the　door；　powerful　torches　in　their　hands　and　Ingram　M10　submachine　guns　slung　over　their　shoulders。
　〃Everyone　accounted　for　except　Hill；　sir；〃　Thompson　said。
　〃Sanders；　have　guards　posted　at　every　hut。　Thompson；　Rocco；　you　e　with　me。〃　Glinn　strapped　on　snowshoes；　grabbed　a　torch；　and　led　the　way　out　into　the　swirling　dark。
　McFarlane　struggled　with　the　unfamiliar　snowshoes。　Hours　of　drowsing　by　the　stove　had　made　him　forget　how　cold　it　was　outside；　how　sharp　the　snowflakes　felt　when　the　wind　drove　them　against　his　face。
　The　electrical　hut　lay　only　fifty　yards　away。　Garza　unlocked　the　door　and　they　entered　the　small　space；　Thompson　and　Rocco　sweeping　it　with　their　torches。　The　smell　of　burnt　wiring　hung　in　the　air。　Garza　knelt　to　pull　open　the　gray　metal　cover　of　the　master　control　cabinet。　As　he　did　so；　a　cloud　of　acrid　smoke　billowed　out　into　the　light　of　the　torches。
　Garza　ran　his　finger　down　the　panel。　〃Totally　fried；〃　he　said。
　〃Estimated　time　to　repair？〃　Glinn　asked。
　〃Main　switching　box；　ten　minutes；　max。　Then　we　can　run　diagnostics。〃
　〃Do　it。　You　men；　get　outside　and　guard　the　door。〃
　The　construction　chief　worked　in　silence　while　McFarlane　looked　on。　Glinn　tried　the　radio　again；　finding　it　was　still　broadcasting　nothing　but　noise；　he　replaced　it　in　his　pocket。　At　length；　Garza　stepped　back　and　threw　a　series　of　switches。　There　was　a　click　and　a　hum；　but　no　lights。　With　a　grunt　of　surprise；　Garza　opened　a　nearby　metal　locker；　withdrew　a　palmtop　diagnostic　puter；　plugged　it　into　a　jack　on　the　master　control　cabinet；　and　switched　it　on。　A　small　blue　screen　flickered　into　life。
　〃We've　got　multiple　burnouts；　up　and　down　the　line；〃　he　s