cc.themediterraneancaper2-第36章
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！
r stealing a cup of brandy from the captain's locker； the poor fellow was dragged under the keel of the ship until his body was sliced to ribbons and the white of his ribs and backbone were visible。 The unfortunate man might have survived； but before the crew could hoist him back on board； a pair of Mako sharks； attracted by the scent of blood； attacked and chewed the man to pieces before the horrified eyes of the men on deck。 Pitt knew what a shark could do。 He had once pulled a boy from the surf in Key West who had taken a nasty bite by a shark。 The boy had lived； but a massive piece of tissue would always be missing from his left thigh。
Pitt cursed out loud。 He must stop thinking about things like that。 His ears began to ring from a humming sound。 At first he thought it was a trick of his imagination。 He shook his bead violently： it was still there； only louder； it seemed to be gaining momentum。 Then Pitt knew where the humming was ing from。
The ship's generators had started again。 The navigation lights blinked on； and the Queen Artemisia suddenly came alive with sound。 If there was ever a time when the better part of valor was discretion； it was now。 Pitt clamped the mouthpiece of the regulator between his teeth and dove clear of the ship。 He kicked his fins with every ounce of power in his legs； seeing nothing under the ink black water； hearing only the strange gurgling sound of his exhaust bubbles。 It was times like this that he wished he didn't smoke。 After covering nearly fifty…five yards； he surfaced and looked back at the ship。
The Queen Artemisia rode at anchor in tombstone solitude； her silhouette outlined against the graying eastern sky like an old fashioned shadowgram。。 Dim shafts of white light came to life here and there about the ship； interrupted only by the green glow of the starboard navigation light。 For several minutes nothing more happened。 Then without any signal or shouted mand； the anchor clattered up from the seafloor and clanged into the hull。 The wheelhouse was lit and Pitt could see it clearly； it was still vacant。 It just can't be； he repeated to himself over and over again： it just can't be。 But the old ship hadn't yet finished the last act of her ghostly performance。 As if on cue； the Queen Artemisia's telegraph jangled faintly across the calm pre…dawn sea。 The engines responded with their gentle throb； and the ship continued on her voyage： the secret of her evil cargo still locked somewhere within her steel plates。
Pitt didn't have to see the ship move to know it Was underway； he could feel the beat of her propellers through the water。 Fifty…five yards was more than enough。 At that distance he was invisible to any lookout and had little to fear from being sucked through the huge propellers and mangled into fish bait。
A seething flood of frustration swept over Pitt as the great hull slowly slid past his bobbing head。 It was as though he was watching a ballistic missile lift from a launching pad and hurtle on its pre…set path toward devastation and death。 He was helpless； he could do nothing to stop it。 Hidden somewhere on the Queen Artemisia was enough heroin to drown half the population of the Northern Hemisphere in delirium。 God alone knew what chaos would erupt in every city and town if it was distributed to all the peddling scum who preyed on its malignant addiction。 How many people would bee listless dregs and eventually die from the drug's deadly narcosis？ One hundred and thirty tons of heroin on the ship。 What was that song again； the little ditty that he'd sung all those long years ago in school。 〃A hundred bottles of beer on the wall〃 It had nearly the same ring； but it was for light hearts and souls； not drugged minds and lost hopes。
Then Pitt thought of himself。 Not with self…pride for destroying the yellow Albatros or searching the Queen Artemisia and getting away with it undetected。 He thought of himself only as an idiot for risking his life on a job he had no business performing； a job he wasn't paid to do。 His orders were to expedite oceanographic expeditions。 No one said anything about chasing after drug smugglers。 What could he acplish？ He wasn't a guardian angel of humanity。 Let Zacynthus； Zeno； INTERPOL and every other damn cop in the world play cat and mouse with von Till。 It was their game； they were trained for it。 And they were paid for it too。
Again Pitt swore loudly to himself。 He had already spent too much time daydreaming。 It was time to head for shore。 Mechanically； his eyes watched the ship's lights diminish bit by bit into the fading darkness of the early morning。 He was just wading onto the beach when the sun lifted itself from the horizon and threw its rays on the； rock strewn summits of the Thasos mountains。
Pitt stripped off the tank and let it fall to the soft wet sand along with the breathing regulator and his mask and snorkel。 Exhaustion curled its numbing tentacles around him and he succumbed to it； dropping to his hands and knees。 His body felt sore and beat； but his mind hardly noticed these things； it was busy with something else。
Pitt could find no indication of the heroin on board the ship； nor would the Bureau of Narcotics or the Customs Inspectors。 That much was certain。 Below the waterline； that was a possibility。 But surely the wary investigators would have divers examine every inch of the hull when the ship docked。 Besides； there was no way a cargo of that size could be removed； unless it was dropped in the water and recovered Later。 That wouldn't work either； he thought； it was too obvious； retrieving a watertight container filled with a hundred and thirty tons of solid material would require a full scale salvage operation。 No； there had to be a more ingenious method； one that had successfully defied detection for so long。
He took the diver's knife and idly began sketching the Queen Artemisias outline in the wet sand。 Then； quite suddenly； the idea of a diagram intrigued him。 He stood up and traced a hull that stretched for approximately thirty feet。 The bridge； the holds and engine room； every detail he could recall was etched into the yielding white sand。 Minutes passed and the ship started to take shape。 Pitt had bee so totally absorbed in his work that he didn't notice an old man and a donkey； trudging wearily along the beach。
The old man stopped in his tracks and stared at Pitt from a ripened old face that had seen too many decades of strife to show an expression of bewilderment。 After a few moments he shrugged unprehendingly and ambled off after his donkey。
Finally the diagram was nearly plete； down to the last panionway。 The knife flashed in the new sun as Pitt added a final humorous touch； a tiny bird on a tiny ventilator。 Then he stepped back to admire his handiwork。 He stared at it for a moment； then laughed aloud。 〃One thing's certain； I'll never be acclaimed for my artwork。 It looks more like a pregnant whale than a ship。〃
Pitt continued to absentmindedly gaze at the sand drawing。 Suddenly his eyes took on a trance…like glaze and his rugged face lost all expression。 The spark of a novel and fanciful idea lit dimly in his conscious mind。 At first the idea seemed too outlandish for him to consider； but the more he dwelt on its possibilities； the more feasible it became。 Quickly he traced additional lines in the sand。 pletely absorbed again； he raced to match up the diagram with the picture in his mind。 When the last change was finished； his mouth slowly twisted into a grim smile of satisfaction。 Damned clever of von Till； he thought； damned clever。
He wasn't tired anymore； his mind was no longer burdened with unsolvable questions。 It was a new approach； a new kind of answer。 It should have been discovered long before。 Quickly； he gathered up the diving equipment and started to hike over the incline that separated the beach from the coastal road。 There was no thought of quitting the game now。 The next inning would prove to be the most interesting。 At the top he turned and looked back at the sketch of the Queen Artemisia in the sand。
The rising tide was just washing over and erasing the ship's funnel； the funnel marked with the big Minerva 〃M。〃
14
Giordino lay stretched out beside a blue Air F
