cc.vixen03-第50节

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　Bass's　voice　trailed　off　and　Pitt　waited　patiently。
　〃At　fifteen　hundred　feet　a　parachute　is　released。　Slows　the　shell's　descent　and　activates　a　small　explosive　device。〃
　〃Fifteen　hundred　feet；　parachute　opens；〃　Pitt　repeated。
　〃At　one　thousand　feet；　device　detonates　and　splits　head　of　projectile；　releases　a　cluster　mass　of　bomblets　containing　the　Quick　Death　or…ganism。〃
　Pitt　sat　back　and　considered　the　admiral's　description　of　the　pro…jectile's　operation。　He　looked　into　the　waning　eyes。
　〃The　time　element；　Admiral。　How　much　time　between　the　para…chute's　ejection　and　the　QD　dispersal？〃
　〃Too　long　ago　。　。　。　can't　remember。〃
　〃Please　try；〃　Pitt　implored。
　Bass　was　clearly　sinking。　He　fought　to　bring　his　brain　into　gear；　but　its　cells　responded　sluggishly。　Then　the　tension　lines　in　his　face　relaxed　and　he　whispered；　〃I　think　。　。　。　not　sure　。　。　。　thirty　seconds　。　。　。　rate　of　descent　about　eighteen　feet　per　second　。　。　。〃
〃Thirty　seconds？〃　Pitt　said；　seeking　verification。
　Bass's　hand　released　Pitt's　wrist　and　fell　back　on　the　bed。　His　eyes　closed　and　he　drifted　into　a。
　
　55
　
　The　only　damage　to　the　Iowa　after　she　slashed　through　the　Molly　Bender　was　a　few　scrapes　to　the　paint　on　her　bows。　Fawkes　had　not　noticed　the　slightest　bump。　He　could　have　averted　the　tragedy　if　he　had　spun　the　wheel　hard　to　port；　but　it　would　have　meant　swerving　the　battleship　from　the　deep　part　of　the　channel　and　running　her　aground。
　He　needed　every　inch　he　could　squeeze　between　the　riverbed　and　the　Iowa's　hull。　The　months　of　gutting　thousands　of　tons　of　nonessential　steel　had　raised　the　ship　from　a　wartime　operational　draft　of　thirty…eight　feet　to　a　few　inches　less　than　twenty…two；　giving　Fawkes　a　razor…thin　margin。　Already　the　great　whirling　screws　were　churning　up　bottom　mud　that　dirtied　the　Iowa's　wake　for　miles。
　Fawkes's　countless　trips　up　and　down　the　river　in　the　dark；　sounding　every　foot；　marking　each　channel　buoy；　each　shoal；　were　paying　off。　Through　the　diminishing　sleet　he　made　out　the　lighted　mid…channel　buoy　off　St。　Clements　Island；　and　a　minute　or　two　later　his　ears　picked　up　its　sepulchral　tolling　bell　as　if　it　were　an　old　friend。　He　wiped　his　sweating　hands　one　at　a　time　on　his　sleeves。　The　trickiest　part　of　the　run　was　ing　up。
　Ever　since　slipping　the　moorings；　Fawkes　had　worried　about　the　danger　of　Kettle　Bottom　Shoals；　a　six…mile　section　of　the　river　mazed　with　a　network　of　shallow　sandbars　that　could　grip　the　Iowa's　keel　and　hold　her　helpless　miles　from　her　goal。
　He　lifted　one　hand　from　the　helm　and　picked　up　a　microphone。　〃I　want　a　continuous　depth　reading。〃
　〃Understood；　Captain；〃　a　voice　scratched　back　over　a　speaker。
　Three　decks　below；　two　of　Fawkes's　black　crewmen　took　turns　calling　up　the　depths　as　they　appeared　on　the　modified　Fathometer。　They　gave　their　readings　in　feet　instead　of　the　usual　fathoms。
　〃Twenty…six　feet　。　。　。　twenty…five　。　。　。　twenty…four…five。〃
　Kettle　Bottom　Shoals　was　beginning　to　make　its　presence　known　and　Fawkes's　hamlike　hands　clenched　the　spokes　of　the　helm　as　though　they　were　glued　to　them。
　Down　in　the　engine　room　Emma　made　a　show　of　helping　the　pitifully　small　crew　who　were　somehow　running　the　huge　ship。　All　were　bathed　in　sweat　as　they　struggled　to　handle　duties　that　normally　took　five　times　their　number。　The　removal　of　two　engines　had　helped；　but　there　was　still　far　too　much　to　do；　particularly　when　they　considered　their　dual　role　as　engineers　and；　when　the　time　came；　gunners。
　Not　one　to　bee　mired　in　physical　labor；　Emma　made　himself　useful　by　passing　around　gallon　jugs　of　water。　In　that　steaming　hell　no　one　seemed　to　take　notice　of　his　unfamiliar　face；　they　were　only　too　grateful　to　gulp　down　the　liquid　that　replaced　the　body　fluids　running　from　their　pores　in　streams。
　They　worked　blind；　never　knowing　what　was　happening　on　the　other　side　of　the　hull's　steel　plates；　never　remotely　aware　of　where　the　ship　was　taking　them。　All　Fawkes　had　told　them　when　they　boarded　was　that　they　were　going　on　a　short　practice　run　to　shake　down　the　old　engines　and　fire　a　few　rounds　from　the　main　guns。　They　assumed　they　were　heading　out　of　the　bay　and　into　the　Atlantic。　That's　why　they　were　stunned　when　the　ship　suddenly　gave　a　shudder　and　the　hull　began　creaking　in　protest　beneath　their　feet。
　The　Iowa　had　rammed　a　shoal。　The　suction　of　the　mud　had　drastically　cut　her　speed；　but　she　was　still　making　way。　〃Full　ahead〃　came　down　on　the　telegraph　from　the　bridge。　The　two　massive　shafts　increased　their　mighty　revolutions　as　the　engines　threw　their　106；000　horsepower　into　the　task。
　The　faces　of　the　men　in　the　engine　room　mirrored　confusion　and　bewilderment。　They　had　thought　they　were　in　deep　water。
　Charles　Shaba；　the　chief　engineer；　hailed　the　bridge。　〃Captain；　have　we　run　aground？〃
　〃Aye；　laddie；　we've　nudged　an　uncharted　bar；〃　Fawkes's　voice　boomed　back。　〃Keep　pouring　it　on　till　we've　sailed　past。〃
　Shaba　did　not　share　Fawkes's　optimism。　The　ship　felt　as　if　she　were　barely　maintaining　headway。　The　deck　plates　beneath　his　feet　vibrated　as　the　engines　strained　in　their　mountings。　Then；　slowly；　he　sensed　their　beat　smoothing　somewhat；　as　though　the　screws　were　biting　into　new　water。　A　minute　later；　Fawkes　shouted　down　from　the　bridge。
　〃Tell　your　boys　we're　free。　We're　back　in　deep　water！〃
　The　engine　crew　tackled　their　respective　duties　again；　their　faces　wearing　relieved　smiles。　One　oiler　began　a　popular　chant　and　soon　they　all　took　it　up　in　chorus　with　the　hum　from　the　great　turbines。
　Emma　did　not　join　in。　Only　he　knew　the　truth　behind　the　Iowa's　strange　voyage。　In　a　few　hours　the　men　around　him　would　be　dead。　They　might　have　been　reprieved　if　the　Iowa's　flat　bottom　had　remained　firmly　stuck　in　the　shoal's　mud。　But　it　was　not　to　be。
　Fawkes　was　the　lucky　one；　he　thought。　Damned　lucky。　So　far。
　
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　The　President　sat　at　the　end　of　a　long　conference　table　in　the　emergency　executive　offices　three　hundred　feet　beneath　the　White　House　and　stared　Dale　Jarvis　squarely　in　the　eye。　〃I　don't　have　to　tell　you；　Dale；　the　last　thing　I　need　is　a　crisis　during　the　last　few　days　of　my　administration；　especially　a　crisis　that　can't　wait　until　morning。〃
　Jarvis　felt　the　tingling　fingers　of　nervousness。　The　President　was　noted　for　his　volcanic　temper。　Jarvis　had　been　present　on　more　than　one　occasion　when　the　famous　mustache；　a　delight　of　political　cartoonists；　fairly　bristled　with　wrath。　With　little　to　lose；　except　his　job；　Jarvis　counterattacked。
　〃I　am　not　in　the　custom　of　interrupting　your　sleep；　sir；　nor　the　martial　dreams　of　the　Joint　Chiefs；　unless　I　have　a　damned　good　reason。〃
　Defense　Secretary　Timothy　March　sucked　in　his　breath。　〃I　think　what　Dale　means…〃
　〃What　I　mean；〃　Jarvis　said；　〃is　that　somewhere　out　in　Chesapeake　Bay　there　are　a　bunch　of　nuts　loose　with　a　biological　weapon　that　could　conceivably　exterminate　every　living　creature　in　a　major　city　and　keep　on　exterminating　for　God　knows　how　many　generations。〃
　General　Curtis　Higgins；　Chairman　of　the　Joint　Chiefs；　gave　Jarvis　a　doubting　look。　〃I　know　of　no　weapon　with　that　killing　power。　Besides；　the　gas　weapons　in　our　arsenal　were　neutralized　and　destroyed　years　ago。〃
　〃That's　the　bullshit　we　give　the　public；〃　Jarvis　snapped　back。　〃But　everyone　in　this　room　knows　better。　The　truth　is　the　Army　has　never　stopped　developing　and　stockpiling　chemical…biological　weapons。〃
　〃Settle　down；　Dale。〃　The　President's　lips　were　stretched　in　a　grin　beneath　the　mustache。　He　took　a　perverse　sort　of　pleasure　whenever　his　subordinates　took　to　fighting　among　themselves。　Casually；　in　a　move　to　relieve　the　tense　atmosphere；　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair　and　draped　one　leg　over　the　armrest。　〃For　the　moment；　I　suggest　we　take　Dale's　warning　as　gospel。〃　He　turned　to　Admiral　Joseph　Kemper；　the　chief　of　Naval　Operations。　〃Joe；　since　this　appears　to　be　a　naval　raid；　it　falls　in　your　bailiwick。〃
　Kemper　hardly　fit　the　image　of　a　military　leader。　Portly　and　white　haired；　he　could　have　easily　been　hired　as　a　department…store　floor…walker。　He　looked　thoughtfully　at　the　notes　he　had　scribbled　during　Jarvis's　briefing。
　〃There　are　two　facts　that　bear　out　Mr。　Jarvis's　warning。　First；　the　battles　hip　Iowa　was　sold　to　Walvis　Bay　Investment。　And　as　of　yesterday；　our　satellite　pictures　showed　it　docked　at　the　Forbes　shipyard。〃
　〃And　its　current　status？〃　asked　the　President。
　Kemper　did　not　answer　but　pressed　a　button　on　the　table　in　front　of　him　and　rose　from　his　chair。　The　wood　paneling　against　the　far　wall　slid　apart；　revealing　an　eight…by…ten…foot　projection　screen。　Kemper　picked　up　a　telephone　and　said　tersely；　〃Begin。〃
　A　high…resolution　TV　picture　taken　high　above　the　earth　flashed　on　the　screen。　The　clarity　and　color　were　far　superior　to　anything　transmitted　to　an　ordinary　home　set。　The　satellite　camera　penetrated　the　early…morning　darkness　and　cloud　cover　as　though　they　did　not　exist；　projecting　a　view　of　the　eastern　Chesapeake　Bay　shoreline　so　clear　it　looked　as　if　it　came　off　a　picture　postcard。　Kemper　moved　to　the　screen　and　made　a　circular　motion　with　the　pencil　he　used　for　a　pointer。
　〃Here　we　see　the　entrance　to　the　Patuxent　River　and　the　basin　just　inside　Drum　Point　to　the　north　and　Hog　Point　to　the　sout