cyclops-第34部分

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n't　concern　NUMA　or　you　personally。　As　fate　would　have　it；　Raul　Castro　was　on　an　inspection　tour　of　the　island's　defense　mand　plex　outside　of　Havana　when　LeBaron　was　spotted　by　their　offshore　detection　systems。　The　thought　struck　him　that　the　contact　might　prove　useful。　So　he　ordered　his　guard　forces　to　intercept　the　blimp　and　escort　it　to　an　airfield　near　the　city　of　Cardenas。〃
　　　　〃I　can　guess　the　rest；〃　said　Sandecker。　〃The　Cubans　reinflated　the　blimp；　hid　an　envoy　on　board；　who　was　carrying　the　U。S。…Cuban　document；　and　sent　it　aloft；　figuring　prevailing　winds　would　nudge　it　toward　the　States。〃
　　　　〃You're　close；〃　the　President　acknowledged；　smiling。　〃But　they　didn't　take　any　chances　on　fickle　winds。　A　close　friend　of　Fidel's　and　a　pilot　sneaked　on　board　with　the　document。　They　flew　the　blimp　to　Miami；　where　they　jumped　into　the　water　a　few　miles　offshore　and　were　picked　up　by　a　waiting　yacht。〃
　　　　〃I'd　be　curious　to　learn　where　the　three　bodies　in　the　control　cabin　came　from；〃　Sandecker　probed。
　　　　〃A　melodramatic　display　by　Castro　to　prove　his　good　intentions　that　I　haven't　got　time　to　go　into。〃
　　　　〃The　Russians　haven't　bee　suspicious？〃
　　　　〃Not　yet。　Their　superior　attitude　over　the　Cubans　prevents　them　from　seeing　anything　resembling　Latin　ingenuity。〃
　　　　〃So　Raymond　LeBaron　is　alive　and　well　somewhere　in　Cuba。〃
　　　　The　President　made　an　open　gesture　with　his　hands。　〃I　can　only　assume　that's　his　situation。　CIA　sources　report　that　Soviet　intelligence　demanded　to　interrogate　LeBaron。　The　Cubans　obliged　and　LeBaron　hasn't　been　seen　since。〃
　　　　〃Aren't　you　going　to　even　try　to　negotiate　LeBaron's　release？〃　asked　Sandecker。
　　　　〃The　situation　is　delicate　as　it　is　without　throwing　him　on　the　bargaining　table。　When　we　can　nail　down　and　sign　the　U。S。…Cuban　pact；　I　have　no　doubt　that　Castro　will　take　custody　of　LeBaron　from　the　Russians　and　turn　him　over　to　us。〃
　　　　The　President　paused　and　stared　at　the　mantel　clock。　〃I'm　late　for　a　conference　with　my　budget　people。〃　He　stood　up　and　started　for　the　door。　Then　he　turned　to　Sandecker。　〃I'll　wrap　this　up　quickly。　Jessie　LeBaron　was　briefed　on　the　situation　and　memorized　our　response　to　Castro。　The　plan　was　to　have　the　blimp　return　with　a　LeBaron　on　board。　A　signal　to　Castro　that　my　reply　was　being　sent　in　the　same　way　his　proposal　was　sent　out。　Something　went　wrong。　You　passed　Jess　Simmons　on　your　way　in。　He　briefed　me　on　the　photos　taken　by　our　aerial　reconnaissance。　Instead　of　stopping　the　blimp　and　escorting　it　to　Cardenas；　the　Cuban　patrol　helicopter　fired　upon　it。　Then　for　some　unexplained　reason　the　helicopter　exploded；　and　they　both　crashed　into　the　sea。　You　must　realize；　Admiral；　I　couldn't　send　rescue　forces　because　of　the　sensitive　nature　of　the　mission。　I'm　truly　sorry　about　Pitt。　I　owed　him　a　debt　I　could　never　repay。　We　can　only　pray　that　he；　Jessie　LeBaron；　and　your　other　friends　somehow　survived。〃
　　　　〃Nobody　could　survive　a　crash　in　the　path　of　hurricane；〃　Sandecker　said　caustically。　〃You'll　have　to　pardon　me；　Mr。　President；　but　even　Mickey　Mouse　could　have　put　together　a　better　operation。〃
　　　　A　pained　expression　lined　the　President's　face。　He　started　to　say　something；　thought　better　of　it；　and　pulled　open　the　door。　〃I'm　sorry；　Admiral；　I'm　late　for　the　conference。〃
　　　　The　President　spoke　no　more。　He　walked　from　the　Oval　Office　and　left　Sandecker　standing　confused　and　alone。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　



　　　　The　worst　of　hurricane　Little　Eva　skirted　the　island　and　turned　northeast　into　the　Gulf　of　Mexico。　The　winds　dropped　off　to　forty　miles　an　hour；　but　another　two　days　would　pass　before　they　were　replaced　by　the　gentle　trade　winds　from　the　south。
　　　　Cayo　Santa　Maria　seemed　empty　of　any　life；　animal　or　human。　Ten　years　earlier；　in　a　moment　of　generous　radeship；　Fidel　Castro　had　deeded　the　island　over　to　his　munist　allies　as　a　gesture　of　goodwill。　He　then　slapped　the　face　of　the　White　House　by　proclaiming　it　as　a　territory　of　Russia。
　　　　The　natives　were　quietly　but　forcefully　relocated　onto　the　mainland；　and　engineering　units　of　the　GRU　（Glavnoye　Razvedyvatelnoye　Upravleniye；　or　Chief　Intelligence　Directorate　of　the　Soviet　General　Staff）；　the　military　arm　of　the　KGB；　moved　in　and　began　building　a　highly　secret　underground　installation。　Working　in　stages　and　only　under　cover　of　darkness；　the　plex　slowly　took　shape　beneath　the　sand　and　palm　trees。　CIA　spy　planes　monitored　the　island；　but　intelligence　analysis　failed　to　detect　any　defense　installations　or　heavy　shipment　of　supplies　by　sea　or　air。　Enhanced　photo　examination　showed　little　except　a　few　eroding　roads　that　seemingly　went　nowhere。　Only　as　a　matter　of　routine　was　the　island　studied；　but　nothing　ever　turned　up　that　indicated　a　threat　to　United　States　security。
　　　　Somewhere　beneath　the　wind…beaten　island；　Pitt　awoke　in　a　small　sterile　room　on　a　bed　with　a　goosedown　mattress　under　a　fluorescent　light　that　blazed　continuously。　He　could　not　recall　if　he　had　ever　slept　in　a　feather　bed；　but　he　found　it　most　fortable　and　made　a　mental　note　to　look　around　for　one；　if　and　when　he　ever　got　back　to　Washington。
　　　　Apart　from　bruises；　sore　joints；　and　a　slight　throb　in　his　head　he　felt　reasonably　fit。　He　lay　there　and　stared　at　the　gray…painted　ceiling；　recalling　the　night　before　Jessie's　discovery　of　her　husband；　the　guards　escorting　Pitt；　Giordino；　and　Gunn　to　an　infirmary；　where　a　female　Russian　doctor；　who　was　built　like　a　bawling　pin；　tended　to　their　injuries；　a　meal　of　mutton　stew　in　a　mess　hall　that　Pitt　rated　six　points　below　an　east　Texas　truck　stop；　and　finally　being　locked　in　a　room　with　a　toilet　and　washbasin；　a　bed；　and　a　narrow　wooden　wardrobe。
　　　　Slipping　his　hands　under　the　sheet；　he　explored　his　body。　Except　for　several　yards　of　tape　and　gauze；　he　was　naked。　He　marveled　at　the　homely　doctor's　fetish　for　bandages。　He　swung　his　bare　feet　onto　the　concrete　floor　and　sat　there；　pondering　his　next　move。　A　signal　from　his　bladder　reminded　him　he　was　still　human；　so　he　moved　over　to　the　mode　and　wished　he　had　a　cup　of　coffee。　They；　whoever　they　were；　had　left　him　his　Doxa　watch。　The　dial　read　11：55。　Since　he　had　never　slept　more　than　nine　hours　in　his　life；　he　rightly　assumed　that　it　was　the　following　morning。
　　　　A　minute　later　he　leaned　over　the　basin　and　splashed　cold　water　on　his　face。　The　single　towel　was　coarse　and　hardly　absorbed　the　moisture。　He　went　over　to　the　wardrobe；　pulled　it　open；　and　found　a　khaki　shirt　and　pants　on　a　hanger　and　a　pair　of　sandals。　Before　he　put　them　on　he　removed　several　bandages　over　wounds　that　were　already　beginning　to　scab；　and　flexed　the　newfound　freedom　of　movement。　After　he　dressed；　he　tried　the　heavy　iron　door。　The　latch　was　still　locked；　so　he　pounded　on　the　thick　metal　panel；　causing　a　hollow　boom　to　reverberate　around　the　concrete　walls。
　　　　A　boy　who　looked　no　older　than　nineteen　and　wearing　Soviet　army　fatigues　opened　the　door　and　stood　back；　aiming　a　machine　pistol；　no　larger　than　an　ordinary　household　hammer；　at　Pitt's　midsection。　He　motioned　down　a　long　hall　to　the　left；　and　Pitt　obliged。　They　passed　several　other　iron　doors；　and　Pitt　wondered　if　Gunn　and　Giordino　were　behind　any　of　them。
　　　　They　stopped　at　an　elevator　whose　doors　were　held　open　by　another　guard。　They　entered　and　Pitt　felt　the　slight　pressure　against　his　feet　as　the　car　rose。　He　glanced　at　the　indicator　above　the　door　and　noticed　that　it　showed　lights　for　five　levels。　A　good…sized　layout；　he　thought。　The　elevator　came　to　a　stop　and　the　automatic　doors　glided　open。
　　　　Pitt　and　his　guard　stepped　out　into　a　carpeted　room　with　a　vaulted　ceiling。　The　two　side　walls　held　shelves　stacked　with　hundreds　of　books。　Most　of　the　books　were　in　English　and　many　of　them　were　by　current　best　selling　American　authors。　A　vast　map　of　North　America　covered　the　entire　far　wall。　The　room　looked　to　Pitt　to　be　a　private　study。　There　was　a　big；　antique　carved　desk　whose　marble　top　was　strewn　with　current　issues　of　the　Washington　Post；　the　New　York　Times；　the　Wall　Street　Journal；　and　USA　Today。　Stacked　atop　tables　on　each　side　of　the　doorway　were　piles　of　technical　magazines；　including　puter　Technology；　Science　Digest；　and　the　Air　Force　Journal。　The　carpet　was　burgundy　red　with　six　green　leather　chairs　spaced　evenly　about　its　thick　pile。
　　　　Maintaining　his　silence；　the　guard　reentered　the　elevator　and　left　Pitt　standing　alone　in　the　empty　room。
　　　　Must　be　time　to　observe　the　monkey；　he　mused。　Pitt　didn't　bother　to　probe　the　walls　for　the　lens　to　the　video　camera。　There　was　little　doubt　in　his　mind　that　it　was　concealed　in　the　room　somewhere；　recording　his　actions。　He　decided　to　try　for　a　reaction。　He　swayed　drunkenly　for　a　moment；　rolled　his　eyes　upward；　and　then　crumpled　onto　the　carpet。
　　　　Within　fifteen　seconds　a　hidden　door；　whose　edges　perfectly　matched　latitude　and　longitude　lines　of　the　giant　wall　map；　swung　open　and　a　short；　trim　man　in　an　elegantly　tailored　Soviet　military　uniform　walked　into　the　room。　He　knelt　down　and　peered　into　Pitt's　half…open　eyes。
　　　　〃Can　you　hear　me？〃　he　asked　in　English。
　　　　〃Yes；〃　Pitt　mumbled。
　　　　The　Russian　went　over　to　a　table　and　tilted　a　crystal　decanter　over　a　matching　glass。　He　returned　and　lifted　Pitt's　head。
　　　　〃Drink　this；〃　he　ordered。
　　　　〃What　is　it？〃
　　　　〃Courvoisier　cognac　with　a　sharp；　biting　taste；〃　the　Russian　officer　answered　in　a　flawless　American　accent。　〃Good　for　what　ails　you。〃
　　　　〃I　prefer　a　richer；　smoother　Remy　Martin；〃　said　Pitt；　holding　up　the　glass。　〃Cheers。〃
　　　　He　sipped　the　cognac　until　it　was　gone；　then　rose　lightly　to　his　feet；　found　a　chair；　and　sat　down。
　　　　The　officer　smiled　with　amusement。　〃You　seem　to　have　made　a　quick　recovery；　Mr。　。　。〃
　　　　〃Snodgrass；　Elmer　Snodgrass；　from　Moline；　Illinois。〃
　　　　〃A　nice　Midwestern　touch；〃　the　Russian　said；　ing　around　and　sitting　behind　the　desk。　〃I　am　Peter　Velikov。〃
　　　　〃General　Velikov；　if　my　memory　of　Russian　military　insignia　is　correct。〃
　　　　〃Quite　correct；〃　Velikov　acknowledged。　〃Would　you　care　for　another　cognac？〃
　　　　Pitt　shook　his　head　and　studied　the　man　across　the　desk。　He　judged　Velikov　to　be　no　taller　than　five　foot　seven；　weighing　about　a　hundred　and　thirty　pounds；　and　somewhere　in　his　late　forties。　There　was　a　fortable　friendliness　about