cussler.blueandgold-第5章

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　her　popular　sit　on　TV。　Every　fan　knew　about　Ekhart's　daughter　Elsie；　the　pretty；　freckle…faced　young　girl　who　scooted　around　the　deck　in　a　wheel　chair。　Ekhart　had　given　up　acting　at　the　peak　of　her　career　to　de　vote　her　fortune　and　time　to　helping　children　like　her　own。　The　influential　and　well…heeled　guests　chugging　down　Dom　Perignon　in　the　salon　would　be　asked　later　to　open　their　checkbooks　for　the　Ekhart　Foundation。
　
　Ekhart　had　a　flair　for　promotion；　which　was　why　she　leased　the　Nepenthe　for　her　party。　In　1930；　when　the　vessel　slid　off　the　ways　at　the　G。　L。　Watson　boatyard　in　Glasgow；　she　was　among　the　most　graceful　motor　yachts　ever　to　sail　the　seas。　The　yacht's　first　owner；　an　English　earl；　lost　her　in　an　all…night　poker　game　to　a　Hollywood　mogul　with　a　penchant　for　cards；　marathon　parties；　and　underage　starlets。　She　went　through　a　succession　of　equally　indifferent　owners；　winding　up　in　a　failed　attempt　as　a　fishing　boat。　Smelling　of　dead　fish　and　bait；　the　rotting　yacht　languished　in　the　back　corner　of　a　boatyard。　She　was　rescued　by　a　Silicon　Valley　magnate　who　tried　to　recoup　the　millions　he　spent　restoring　the　vessel　by　leasing　her　out　for　events　such　as　the　Ekhart　fund…raiser。
　
　A　man　wearing　a　blue　blazer　with　an　official　race　badge　pinned　to　the　breast　pocket　had　been　peering　through　binoculars　at　the　flat　green　expanse　of　the　Pacific。　He　rubbed　his　eyes　and　squinted　into　the　lenses　again。　In　the　distance　thin　white　plumes　were　etched　against　the　blue　sky　where　it　met　the　water。　He　lowered　the　binoculars；　raised　an　aerosol　canister　with　a　plastic　trumpet　attached；　and　pressed　the　button　three　times。
　
　Hawnk。　。　。　hawnk。　。　。　hawnk。
　
　The　klaxon's　blaring　squawk　echoed　across　the　water　like　the　mating　call　of　a　monster　gander。　The　flotilla　took　up　the　signal。　A　cacophony　of　bells；　whistles；　and　horns　filled　the　air　and　drowned　out　the　cry　of　hungry　gulls。　Hundreds　of　spectators　excitedly　reached　for　their　binoculars　and　cameras。　Boats　heeled　dangerously　as　passengers　shifted　to　one　side。　On　the　Nepenthe　the　guests　wolfed　down　their　food　and　poured　from　the　salon　sipping　from　glasses　of　bubbly。　They　shaded　their　eyes　and　looked　off　in　the　distance；　where　the　feathery　plumes　were　thickening　into　bantam　rooster　tails。　Carried　on　the　breeze　was　a　sound　like　an　angry　swarm　of　bees。
　
　In　a　circling　helicopter　a　thousand　feet　above　the　Nepenthe；　a　sturdy　Italian　photographer　named　Carlo　Pozzi　tapped　the　pilot's　shoulder　and　pointed　to　the　northwest。　The　water　was　marked　by　parallel　white　streaks　advancing　as　if　plowed　by　a　huge；　invisible　harrow。　Pozzi　checked　his　safety　harness；　stepped　out　onto　a　runner　with　one　foot；　and　hefted　a　fifty…pound　television　camera　onto　his　shoulder。　Leaning　with　a　practiced　stance　into　the　wind　that　buffeted　his　body；　he　brought　the　extraordinary　power　of　his　lens　to　bear　on　the　advancing　lines。　He　swept　the　camera　from　left　to　right；　giving　viewers　around　the　world　an　overview　of　the　dozen　race　boats　cutting　furrows　in　the　sea。　Then　he　zoomed　in　on　a　pair　of　boats　leading　the　pack　by　a　quarter　of　a　mile。
　
　The　speeding　craft　skimmed　the　wave　tops；　their　forty…foot　hulls　planing　with　elevated　bows　as　if　trying　to　escape　the　restraints　of　gravity。　The　lead　boat　was　painted　a　bold　firehouse　red。　Trailing　by　less　than　a　hundred　yards；　the　second　boat　sparkled　like　a　gold　nugget。　The　boats　were　more　like　star　fighters　than　craft　designed　for　travel　over　water。　Their　flat　decks　connected　two　knife…edged　catamaran　hulls　called　sponsons　and　aerodynamic　wings　over　the　engine　partments。　Twin　F…16…type　canopies　were　set　side…by…side　two…thirds　of　the　way　back　from　the　sharp…pointed　double　prows。
　
　Squeezed　into　the　red　boat's　right…hand　canopy；　his　sun　bronzed　face　fixed　in　a　mask　of　determination；　I　Curt　Austin　braced　himself　as　the　eight…ton　craft　slammed　against　the　concrete…hard　water　again　and　again。　Unlike　a　land　vehicle；　the　boat　had　no　shock　absorbers　to　cushion　the　jarring　impact。　Each　jolt　traveled　through　the　one…piece　Kevlar　and　carbon　posite　hull　up　through　Austin's　legs　and　rattled　his　teeth。　Despite　his　broad　shoulders；　his　muscular　biceps；　and　the　five…point　harness　system　that　strapped　his　two…hundred…pound　frame　in　place；　he　felt　like　a　basketball　being　dribbled　down　the　court　by　Michael　Jordan。
　
　Every　ounce　of　strength　in　his　muscular　six…foot…one　body　was　needed　to　keep　a　steady　hand　on　the　trim　tabs　and　the　throttle　levers　and　a　firm　left　foot　on　the　engine　pedal　controlling　the　pressure　in　the　mighty　twin　turbos　that　sent　the　boat　thundering　over　the　water。
　
　Jose　〃Joe〃　Zavala　sat　hunched　over　the　steering　wheel　in　the　left　canopy。　His　gloved　hands　tightly　gripped　the　small　black　wheel　that　seemed　inadequate　for　the　task　of　keeping　the　boat　pointed　in　the　right　direction。　He　felt　as　if　he　were　aiming　rather　than　steering　the　boat。　His　mouth　was　set　in　a　grim　line。　The　large　dark　brown　eyes　had　lost　their　usual　soulful　look　as　they　strained　intently　through　the　tinted　Plexiglas　visor　to　read　the　sea　conditions　for　changes　in　wind　or　wave　height。　The　up…and　down　movement　of　the　bow　pounded　the　difficulty。　Where　Austin　gauged　the　boat's　behavior；　quite　literally；　by　the　seat　of　his　pants；　Zavala　felt　the　waves　and　troughs　through　his　steering　wheel。
　
　Austin　barked　into　the　inter　mike　that　connected　the　canopies。　〃What's　our　speed？〃
　
　Zavala　glanced　at　the　digital　speed　gauge。　〃One　twenty…two。〃　His　eyes　went　to　the　GPS　position　and　pass。　〃Right　on　course。〃
　
　Austin　checked　his　watch　and　looked　down　at　the　chart　fastened　to　his　right　thigh。　The　one…hundred…sixty…mile　race　began　in　San　Diego；　made　two　sharp　turns　around　Santa　Catalina　Is　land；　and　came　back　to　the　starting　point；　giving　thousands　of　spectators　along　the　beaches　a　view　of　the　dramatic　finish。　The　final　turn　should　be　ing　up　any　minute。　He　squinted　through　the　spray…splashed　canopy　and　saw　a　vertical　line　off　to　the　right；　then　another。　Sailboat　masts！　The　spectator　fleet　flanked　a　wide　swath　of　open　water。　Once　past　the　spectators；　the　racers　would　pick　up　the　Coast　Guard　cutter　near　the　turn　buoy　and　head　into　the　last　lap。　He　snapped　a　quick　glance　over　his　right　shoulder　and　caught　the　reflection　of　the　sun　off　gold。
　
　〃Kicking　it　up　to　one…thirty；〃　Austin　said。
　
　　　　The　hard　shocks　ing　through　the　steering　wheel　indicated　that　the　wave　height　was　growing。　Zavala　had　observed　white　flecks　in　the　water　and　a　distinct　marbling　to　the　seas　that　told　him　the　wind　was　up。　　　
　　〃Don't　know　if　we　should；〃　Zavala　yelled　over　the　shriek　of　the　engines。　〃Picking　up　a　slight　chop。　Where's　Ali　Baba？〃　　　　
　〃Practically　in　our　back　pocket！〃　　　　
　〃He's　crazy　if　he　makes　his　play　now。　He　should　just　lie　back　and　let　us　take　the　lumps　like　he's　been　doing；　then　go　for　the　home　stretch。　Sea　and　wind　are　too　unpredictable。〃　　　
　　〃Ali　doesn't　like　to　lose。〃　　　　Zavala　grunted。　〃Okay。　Take　it　to　one　twenty…five。　Maybe　he'll　back　off。〃　　　
　　Austin　pushed　down　with　his　fingertips　on　the　throttles　and　felt　a　surge　of　speed　and　power。　　　　
　A　moment　later　Zavala　reported：　〃Doing　one　twenty…seven。　Seems　okay。〃
　
　The　gold　boat　fell　back；　then　speeded　up　to　keep　pace。　Austin　could　read　the　black　lettering　on　the　side：　Flying　Carpet。　The　boat's　driver　was　hidden　behind　the　tinted　glass；　but　Austin　knew　the　bearded　young　Omar　Sharif　look…alike　would　be　grinning　from　ear　to　ear。　The　son　of　a　Dubai　hotel　magnate；　Ali　Bin　Said　was　one　of　the　toughest　petitors　in　one　of　the　world's　most　petitive　and　dangerous　sports；　Class　1　offshore　power　boat　racing。
　
　Ali　came　within　a　whisker　of　beating　Austin　at　the　Dubai　Duty　Free　Grand　Prix　the　year　before。　The　loss　in　his　own　back　yard　before　his　home　audience　was　particularly　galling。　Ali　had　beefed　up　the　power　in　the　Carpet's　twin　Lamborghini　engines。　With　improvements　in　its　power　plant　the　Red　Ink　squeezed　out　a　few　extra　miles　per　hour；　but　Austin　estimated　Ali's　boat　was　a　match　for　his。
　
　At　the　prerace　briefing　Ali　had　jokingly　accused　Austin　of　calling　in　the　National　Underwater　&　Marine　Agency　to　quell　the　seas　in　his　boat's　path。　As　leader　of　the　Special　Assignments　Team　for　NUMA；　Austin　had　the　resources　of　th