cussler.blueandgold-第1节

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　Sao　Paulo　Airport；　Brazil；　1991
　
　　With　a　POWERFUL　KICK　FROM　ITS　twin　turbofan　engines；　the　sleek　executive　jet　lifted　off　the　runway　and　shot　into　the　vaulted　skies　above　Sao　Paulo。　Climbing　rapidly　over　the　biggest　city　in　South　America；　the　Learjet　soon　reached　its　cruising　altitude　of　thirty…nine　thousand　feet　and　raced　toward　the　northwest　at　five　hundred　miles　an　hour。　Seated　in　a　fortable　rear…facing　chair　at　the　back　of　the　cabin；　Professor　Francesca　Cabral　peered　wistfully　out　the　window　at　the　cottony　cloud　cover；　already　missing　the　smog　cloaked　streets　and　sizzling　energy　of　her　hometown。　A　muffled　snort　from　across　the　narrow　aisle　interrupted　her　musings。　She　glanced　over　at　the　snoring　middle…aged　man　in　the　rumpled　suit　and　wondered　with　a　shake　of　her　head　what　her　father　was　thinking　when　he　assigned　Phillipo　Rodriques　as　her　bodyguard。
　
　Extracting　a　folder　from　her　briefcase；　she　jotted　notes　in　the　margins　of　the　speech　that　she　planned　to　deliver　at　an　international　conference　of　environmental　scientists　in　Cairo。　She　had　gone　over　the　draft　a　dozen　times；　but　her　thoroughness　was　entirely　in　character。　Francesca　was　a　brilliant　engineer　and　a　highly　respected　professor；　but　in　a　field　and　society　dominated　by　males；　a　female　scientist　was　expected　to　be　more　than　perfect。
　
　The　words　blurred　on　the　pages。　The　night　before　Francesca　was　up　late　packing　and　pulling　together　scientific　papers。　She　had　been　too　excited　to　sleep。　Now　she　cast　an　envious　glance　at　the　snoozing　bodyguard　and　decided　to　take　a　nap。　She　set　the　speech　aside；　pushed　the　back　of　her　thick…cushioned　seat　into　its　reclining　position；　and　closed　her　eyes。　Lulled　by　the　throaty　whisper　of　the　turbines；　she　soon　dozed　off。
　
　Dreams　came。　She　was　floating　on　the　sea；　gently　rising　and　falling　like　a　jellyfish　buoyed　by　soft　billows。　It　was　a　pleasant　sensation　until　one　wave　lifted　her　high　in　the　air　and　dropped　like　a　runaway　elevator。　Her　eyelids　fluttered　open；　and　she　looked　around　the　cabin。　She　had　an　odd　feeling；　as　if　someone　had　grabbed　at　her　heart。　Yet　all　seemed　normal。　The　haunting　strains　of　Antonio　Carlos　Jobim's　〃One　Note　Samba〃　played　softly　over　the　sound　system。　Phillipo　was　still　out　cold。　The　sense　that　something　was　amiss　would　not　go　away。　She　leaned　over　and　gently　shook　the　sleeping　man's　shoulder。　〃Phillipo；　wake　up。〃
　
　The　bodyguard's　hand　went　to　the　holster　under　his　jacket；　and　he　came　instantly　awake。　When　he　saw　Francesca　he　relaxed。
　〃Senhora；　I'm　sorry；〃　he　said　with　a　yawn。　〃I　fell　asleep。〃
　〃I　did；　too。〃　She　paused　as　if　she　were　listening。　〃Something　isn't　quite　right。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　She　laughed　nervously。　〃I　don't　know。〃　Phillipo　smiled　with　the　knowing　expression　of　a　man　whose　wife　has　heard　burglars　in　the　night。　He　patted　her　hand。　〃I　will　go　see。〃
　He　got　up　and　stretched；　then　went　forward　and　knocked　on　the　cockpit　door。　The　door　opened；　and　he　stuck　his　head　through。　Francesca　heard　a　murmured　conversation　and　laughter。
　Phillipo　was　beaming　broadly　when　he　returned。　〃The　pilots　say　everything　is　okay；　Senhora。〃
　Francesca　thanked　the　bodyguard；　settled　back　in　her　seat；　and　took　a　deep　breath。　Her　fears　were　foolish。　The　prospect　of　being　freed　from　her　mental　meat　grinder　after　two　years　of　exhausting　work　had　given　her　the　jitters。　The　Project　had　consumed　her；　drained　the　hours　from　her　days　and　nights；　and　demolished　her　social　life。　Her　gaze　fell　on　the　divan　that　stretched　across　the　rear　of　the　cabin；　and　she　resisted　the　impulse　to　see　if　her　metal　suitcase　was　still　safely　stored　in　the　space　behind　the　sofa　cushions。　She　liked　to　think　of　the　valise　as　a　reverse　Pandora's　box。　Instead　of　evil；　good　things　would　pour　out　when　it　was　opened。　Her　discovery　would　bring　health　and　prosperity　to　millions；　and　the　planet　would　never　be　the　same　again。
　
　Phillipo　brought　Francesca　a　cold　bottle　of　orange　juice。　She　thanked　him；　thinking　she　had　grown　to　like　her　bodyguard　in　the　short　time　she　had　known　him。　With　his　wrinkled　brown　suit；　balding　pepper…and…salt　hair；　thin　mustache；　and　round　spectacles；　Phillipo　could　have　passed　for　an　absentminded　academic。　Francesca　couldn't　know　that　he　had　spent　years　perfecting　the　shy；　bumbling　manner。　His　carefully　cultivated　ability　to　merge　into　the　background　like　faded　wallpaper　made　him　one　of　the　top　undercover　agents　in　the　Brazilian　secret　service。
　
　Rodriques　had　been　hand　picked　by　her　father。　Francesca　initially　balked　at　her　father's　insistence　that　a　bodyguard　acpany　her。　She　was　far　too　old　to　have　a　baby…sitter。　When　she　saw　his　genuine　concern　for　her　welfare；　she　went　along。　She　suspected　her　father　was　more　worried　about　good…looking　fortune　hunters　than　for　her　safety。
　
　Even　without　her　family's　wealth；　Francesca　would　have　drawn　male　attention。　In　a　land　of　dark　hair　and　smoky　plexions；　she　was　a　standout。　Her　blue…black　almond…shaped　eyes；　long　lashes；　and　almost　perfect　mouth　were　the　legacy　of　her　Japanese　grandfather。　Her　German　grandmother　had　passed　along　her　light　brown　hair；　her　height　genes；　and　the　Teutonic　stubbornness　of　the　delicately　sculpted　jaw。　Her　shapely　figure；　she　decided　long　ago；　had　something　to　do　with　living　in　Brazil。　Brazilian　women　seem　to　have　bodies　especially　designed　for　the　country's　national　dance；　the　samba。　Francesca　had　improved　on　the　natural　model　by　many　hours　spent　in　the　gym　where　she　went　to　relieve　the　tension　of　her　work。
　
　Grandfather　had　been　a　minor　diplomat　when　the　Empire　of　Japan　ended　under　twin　mushroom　clouds。　He　stayed　on　in　Brazil；　married　the　daughter　of　a　Third　Reich　ambassador　similarly　unemployed；　became　a　Brazilian　citizen；　and　switched　to　his　first　love；　gardening。　He　moved　the　family　to　Sao　Paulo；　where　his　landscape　pany　served　the　rich　and　powerful。　He　developed　close　ties　with　influential　government　and　military　figures。　His　son；　Francesca's　father；　used　those　connections　to　move　effortlessly　to　a　highly　placed　position　in　the　merce　department。　Her　mother　was　a　brilliant　engineering　student　who　put　her　academic　career　aside　to　bee　a　wife　and　mother。　She　never　regretted　her　decision；　at　least　not　openly；　but　she　was　de　lighted　that　Francesca　would　choose　to　follow　in　her　academic　footsteps。
　
　Her　father　had　suggested　that　she　fly　on　his　executive　jet　to　New　York；　where　she　would　meet　with　United　Nations　officials　before　boarding　a　mercial　flight　to　Cairo。　She　was　glad　to　get　back　to　the　States；　if　only　for　a　short　visit；　and　wished　she　could　make　the　plane　move　faster。　The　years　she　had　spent　studying　engineering　at　Stanford　University　in　California　would　always　be　pleasant　memories。　She　glanced　out　the　window　and　realized　she　had　no　idea　where　they　were。　The　pilots　hadn't　re　ported　on　the　flight's　progress　since　the　plane　left　Sao　Paulo。　Excusing　herself　to　Phillipo；　she　went　forward　and　stuck　her　head　in　the　cockpit。
　
　〃Bom　dia；　senhores。　I　was　wondering　where　we　are　and　how　much　longer　we'll　be　in　the　air。〃
　
　The　pilot　was　Captain　Riordan；　a　rawboned　American　with　crew…cut　straw…colored　hair　and　a　Texas　accent。　Francesca　had　never　seen　him　before；　but　that　wasn't　surprising。　Nor　was　the　fact　that　Riordan　was　a　foreign　national。　Although　the　plane　was　privately　owned　it　was　maintained　by　a　local　airline　that　sup　plied　pilots。
　
　〃Bowanis　deeyass；〃　he　said　with　a　lopsided　grin；　his　Chuck　Yeager　drawl　and　butchered　Portuguese　grating　on　her　ears。　〃Sorry　for　not　keeping　you　up　to　date；　miss。　Saw　you　were　sleeping　and　didn't　want　to　disturb　you。〃　He　winked　at　the　copilot；　a　thickset　Brazilian　whose　over　muscled　physique　suggested　he　spent　a　lot　of　time　pumping　iron。　The　copilot　smirked　as　his　eyes　roved　over　Francesca's　body。　Francesca　felt　like　a　mother　who　had　e　upon　two　mischievous　boys　about　to　play　a　prank。　〃What's　our　timetable？〃　she　said　in　a　businesslike　manner。
　
　〃Waall；　we're　over　Venezuela。　We　should　be　in　Miami　in　approximately　three　hours。　We'll　stretch　our　legs　while　we　refuel　and　should　be　in　New　York　about　three　hours　after　that。〃
　Francesca's　scientific　eye　was　drawn　to　the　screens　on　the　instrument　panel。　The　copilot　noticed　her　interest　and　couldn't　resist　the　chance　to　impress　a　beautiful　woman。
　〃This　plane　is　so　smart　it　can　fly　itself　while　we　watch　the　soccer　games　on　TV；〃　he　said；　showing　his　big　teeth。
　〃Don't　let　Carlos　blow　smoke　up　your　flue；〃　the　pilot　said。　〃That's　the　EFIS；　the　electronic　flight　instrument　system。　The　screens　take　the　place　of　the　gauges　we　used　to　use。〃
　〃Thank　you；〃　Francesca　said　politely。　She　pointed　to　another　gauge。　〃Is　that　a　pass？〃　she　said。
　〃Sim；　sim；〃　the　copilot　said；　proud　of　his　successful　tutelage。
　〃Then　why　does　it　indicate　we're　going　almost　due　north？〃　she　said　with　a　furrowed　brow。　〃Shouldn't　we　be　heading　in　a　more　westerly　direction　toward　Miami？〃
　
　The　men　exchanged　glances。　〃You're　quite　observant；　senhora；〃　the　Texan　said。　〃Absolutely　right。　But　in　the　air　a　straight　line　isn't　always　the　fastest　way　between　two　points。　Has　to　do　with　the　curvature　of　the　earth。　Like　when　you　fly　from　the　U。S。　to　Europe　the　shortest　way　is　up　and　around　in　a　big　curve。　We've　also　got　to　deal　with　Cuban　airspace。