p&c.icelimit-第9章

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　〃So　this　is　the　project　you're　just　wrapping　up？〃　McFarlane　asked。
　Glinn　nodded。　〃Some　new　evidence　turned　up　recently　that　needed　further　analysis。〃
　〃And　what　have　you　found？〃
　Glinn　gave　him　a　cool　glance。　〃Perhaps　you'll　read　about　it　in　the　New　York　Times　someday；　Dr。　McFarlane。　But　I　doubt　it。　For　now；　let　me　just　say　that　I　have　a　greater　respect　for　conspiracy　theorists　than　I　did　a　month　ago。〃
　〃Very　interesting。　This　must've　cost　a　fortune。　Who　paid　for　it？〃
　There　was　a　conspicuous　silence。
　〃What　does　this　have　to　do　with　engineering？〃　McFarlane　finally　asked。
　〃Everything。　EES　was　a　pioneer　in　the　science　of　failure　analysis；　and　half　our　work　is　still　in　that　area。　Understanding　how　things　fail　is　the　most　important　ponent　in　solving　engineering　problems。〃
　〃But　this。。。　？〃　McFarlane　jerked　his　hand　in　the　direction　of　the　re…created　plaza。
　Glinn　smiled　elusively。　〃Assassination　of　a　president　is　a　rather　major　failure；　don't　you　think？　Not　to　mention　the　botched　investigation　that　followed。　Besides；　our　work　in　analyzing　failures　such　as　this　helps　us　maintain　our　perfect　engineering　record。〃
　〃Perfect？〃
　〃That's　right。　EES　has　never　failed。　Never。　It　is　our　trademark。〃　He　gestured　to　Garza；　and　they　moved　back　toward　the　doorway。　〃It's　not　enough　to　figure　out　how　to　do　something。　You　must　also　analyze　every　possible　path　to　failure。　Only　then　can　you　be　certain　of　success。　That　is　why　we　have　never　failed。　We　do　not　sign　a　contract　until　we　know　we　can　succeed。　And　then　we　guarantee　success。　There　are　no　disclaimers　in　our　contracts。〃
　〃Is　that　why　you　haven't　signed　the　Lloyd　Museum　contract　yet？〃
　〃Yes。　And　it's　why　you're　here　today。〃　Glinn　removed　a　heavy；　beautifully　engraved　gold　watch　from　his　pocket；　checked　the　time；　and　slid　it　back。　Then　he　turned　the　door　handle　briskly　and　stepped　through。　〃e　on。　The　others　are　waiting。〃
　
　EES　Headquarters；
　1：00　P。M。
　
　A　SHORT　ASCENT　in　an　industrial　elevator；　a　mazelike　journey　through　white　hallways；　and　McFarlane　found　himself　ushered　into　a　conference　room。　Low…ceilinged　and　austerely　furnished；　it　was　as　understated　as　Palmer　Lloyd's　had　been　lavish。　There　were　no　windows；　no　prints　on　the　walls　…　only　a　circular　table　made　out　of　an　exotic　wood；　and　a　darkened　screen　at　the　far　end　of　the　room。
　Two　people　were　seated　at　the　table；　staring　at　him；　evaluating　him　with　their　eyes。　The　closest　was　a　black…haired　young　woman；　dressed　in　Farmer　Brown…style　bib　overalls。　She　was　not　exactly　pretty；　but　her　brown　eyes　were　quick　and　had　glimmers　of　gold　in　their　depths。　They　lingered　over　him　in　a　sardonic　way　that　McFarlane　found　unsettling。　She　was　of　average　size；　slender；　unremarkable；　with　a　healthy　tan　browning　her　cheekbones　and　nose。　She　had　very　long　hands　with　longer　fingers；　currently　busy　cracking　a　peanut　into　a　large　ashtray　on　the　table　in　front　of　her。　She　looked　like　an　overgrown　tomboy。
　The　man　beyond　her　was　dressed　in　a　white　lab　coat。　He　was　blade　thin；　with　a　badly　razor…burned　face。　One　eyelid　seemed　to　droop　slightly；　giving　the　eye　a　jocular　look；　as　if　it　was　about　to　wink。　But　there　was　nothing　jocular　about　the　rest　of　the　man：　he　looked　humorless；　pinched；　as　tense　as　catgut。　He　fidgeted　restlessly　with　a　mechanical　pencil；　turning　it　over　and　over。
　Glinn　nodded。　〃This　is　Eugene　Rochefort；　manager　of　engineering。　He　specializes　in　one…of…a…kind　engineering　designs。〃
　Rochefort　accepted　the　pliment　with　a　purse　of　his　lips；　the　pressure　briefly　turning　them　white。
　〃And　this　is　Dr。　Rachel　Amira。　She　started　out　as　a　physicist　with　us；　but　we　soon　began　to　exploit　her　rare　gifts　as　a　mathematician。　If　you　have　a　problem；　she　will　give　you　an　equation。　Rachel；　Gene；　please　wele　Dr。　Sam　McFarlane。　Meteorite　hunter。〃
　They　nodded　in　reply。　McFarlane　felt　their　eyes　on　him　as　he　busied　himself　with　opening　the　portfolio　case　and　distributing　folders。　He　felt　the　tension　return。
　Glinn　accepted　his　folder。　〃I'd　like　to　go　over　the　general　outline　of　the　problem；　and　then　open　the　floor　for　discussion。〃
　〃Sure　thing；〃　said　McFarlane；　settling　into　a　chair。
　Glinn　glanced　around；　his　gray　eyes　unreadable。　Then　he　withdrew　a　sheaf　of　notes　from　inside　his　jacket。　〃First；　some　general　information。　The　target　area　is　a　small　island；　known　as　Isla　Desolacion；　off　the　southern　tip　of　South　America　in　the　Cape　Horn　islands。　It　lies　in　Chilean　national　territory。　It　is　about　eight　miles　long　and　three　miles　wide。〃
　He　paused　and　looked　around。
　〃Our　client；　Palmer　Lloyd；　insists　upon　moving　ahead　with　the　utmost　possible　speed。　He　is　concerned　about　possible　petition　from　other　museums。　That　means　working　in　the　depths　of　the　South　American　winter。　In　the　Cape　Horn　islands；　temperatures　in　July　range　from　above　freezing　to　as　much　as　thirty　below　zero；　Fahrenheit。　Cape　Horn　is　the　southernmost　major　landmass　outside　of　Antarctica　itself；　more　than　a　thousand　miles　closer　to　the　South　Pole　than　Africa's　Cape　of　Good　Hope。　During　the　target　month；　we　can　expect　five　hours　of　daylight。
　〃Isle　Desolacion　is　not　a　hospitable　place。　It　is　barren；　windswept；　mostly　volcanic　with　some　Tertiary　sedimentary　basins。　The　island　is　bisected　by　a　large　snowfield；　and　there　is　an　old　volcanic　plug　toward　the　north　end。　The　tides　range　from　thirty　to　thirty…five　vertical　feet；　and　a　reversing　sixknot　current　sweeps　the　island　group。〃
　〃Lovely　conditions　for　a　picnic；〃　Garza　muttered。
　〃The　closest　human　settlement　is　on　Navarino　Island；　in　the　Beagle　Channel；　about　forty　miles　north　of　the　Cape　Horn　islands。　It　is　a　Chilean　naval　base　called　Puerto　Williams；　with　a　small　mestizo　Indian　shantytown　attached　to　it。〃
　〃Puerto　Williams？〃　Garza　said。　〃I　thought　this　was　Chile　we　were　talking　about。〃
　〃The　entire　area　was　originally　mapped　by　Englishmen。〃　Glinn　placed　the　notes　on　the　table。　〃Dr。　McFarlane；　I　understand　you've　been　in　Chile。〃
　McFarlane　nodded。
　〃What　can　you　tell　us　about　their　navy？〃
　〃Charming　fellows。〃
　There　was　a　silence。　Rochefort；　the　engineer；　began　tapping　his　pencil　on　the　table　in　an　irritated　tattoo。　The　door　opened；　and　a　waiter　began　serving　sandwiches　and　coffee。
　〃They　belligerently　patrol　the　coastal　waters；〃　McFarlane　went　on；　〃especially　in　the　south；　along　the　border　with　Argentina。　The　two　countries　have　a　long…running　border　dispute；　as　you　probably　know。〃
　〃Can　you　add　anything　to　what　I've　said　about　the　climate？〃
　〃I　once　spent　time　in　Punta　Arenas　in　late　fall。　Blizzards；　sleet　storms；　and　fog　are　mon。　Not　to　mention　williwaws。〃
　〃Williwaws？〃　Rochefort　asked　in　a　tremulous；　reed…thin　voice。
　〃Basically　a　microburst　of　wind。　It　lasts　only　a　minute　or　two；　but　it　can　peak　at　about　a　hundred　and　fifty　knots。〃
　〃What　about　decent　anchorages？〃　Garza　asked。
　〃I've　been　told　there　are　no　decent　anchorages。　In　fact；　from　what　I've　heard；　there's　no　good　holding　ground　for　a　ship　anywhere　in　the　Cape　Horn　islands。〃
　〃We　like　a　challenge；〃　said　Garza。
　Glinn　collected　the　papers；　folded　them　carefully；　and　returned　them　to　his　jacket　pocket。　Somehow；　McFarlane　felt　the　man　had　already　known　the　answers　to　his　own　questions。
　〃Clearly；〃　Glinn　said；　〃we　have　a　plex　problem；　even　without　considering　the　meteorite。　But　let's　consider　it　now。　Rachel；　I　believe　you　have　some　questions　about　the　data？〃
　〃I　have　a　ment　about　the　data。〃　Amira's　eyes　glanced　at　a　folder　before　her；　then　hovered　on　McFarlane　with　faint　amusement。　She　had　a　superior　attitude　that　McFarlane　found　annoying。
　〃Yes？〃　said　McFarlane。
　〃I　don't　believe　a　word　of　it。〃
　〃What　exactly　don't　you　believe？〃
　She　waved　her　hand　over　his　portfolio。　〃You're　the　meteorite　expert；　right？　Then　you　know　why　no　one　has　ever　found　a　meteorite　larger　than　sixty　tons。　Any　larger；　and　the　force　of　impact　causes　the　meteorite　to　shatter。　Above　two　hundred　tons；　meteorites　vaporize　from　the　impact。　So　how　could　a　monster　like　this　still　be　intact？〃
　〃I　can't　…　〃　McFarlane　began。
　But　Amira　interrupted。　〃The　second　thing　is　that　iron　meteorites　rust。　It　only　takes　about　five　thousand　years　to　rust　even　the　biggest　one　into　a　pile　of　scale。　So　if　it　somehow　did　survive　the　impact；　why　is　i