Inca Gold - Cussler Clive (читать онлайн полную книгу .TXT) 📗

    After rounding the northern tip of San Lorenzo, the large offshore island that protects Callao's natural maritime shelter, Captain Stewart ordered slow speed as a launch came alongside the Deep Fathom and the harbor pilot jumped onto a boarding ladder and climbed on board. Once the pilot steered the ship safely inside the main channel, Captain Stewart took command of the bridge again and adroitly eased the big research ship to a stop beside the dock of the main passenger terminal. Under his watchful eye the mooring lines were slipped over big, rusty bollards. Then he shut down his automatic control system, rang his chief engineer, and told him that he was through with the engines.

    Everyone lining the ship's rail was surprised to see over a thousand people jamming the dock. Along with an armed military security force and a large contingent of police, TV news cameras and press photographers quickly began jockeying for position as the gangway was lowered. Beyond the news media stood a group of smiling government officials, and behind them the happily waving parents of the archaeology students.

    "Still no Dixieland band playing `Waiting for the Robert E. Lee,' " Pitt said, feigning a disappointed tone.

    "Nothing like a cheering populace to snap one out of depression," said Giordino, gazing at the unexpected reception.

    "I never expected so grand a turnout," murmured Shannon in awe. "I can't believe word spread so fast."

    Miles Rodgers lifted one of three cameras hung around his neck and began shooting. "Looks to me like half the Peruvian government turned out."

    The dock was filled with an air of excitement. Small children were waving Peruvian and American flags. A roar came from the crowd as the archaeology students climbed out on the bridge wing and began waving and shouting as they recognized their parents. Only Stewart looked uneasy.

    "My God, I hope they all don't expect to storm aboard my ship."

    "Too many boarders to repel." Giordino shrugged. "Better to haul down your flag and plead for mercy."

    "I told you my students came from influential families," said Shannon happily.

    Unnoticed by the crowd, a small man wearing glasses and carrying a briefcase expertly squeezed through the milling throng and slipped around the cordon of security guards. He bounded up the still-lowering gangway before anyone could stop him and leaped onto the deck with the elated expression of a running back who has just crossed a goal line. He approached Pitt and Giordino and grinned.

    "Why is it prudence and discretion are beyond your talents?"

    "We try not to fly in the face of public opinion," Pitt said before smiling broadly and embracing the little man. "Good to see you, Rudi."

    "Seems we can't get away from you," said Giordino warmly.

    Rudi Gunn, the deputy director of NUMA, shook Stewart's hand and was introduced to Shannon and Rodgers. "Will you excuse me if I borrow these two rogues before the welcoming ceremonies?" he asked graciously.

    Without waiting for an answer, he stepped through a hatch and walked down an alleyway with ease. Gunn had helped design the Deep Fathom and was very familiar with the ship's deck layout. He stopped before the doorway to the conference room, opened it and entered. He went directly to the head of a long table and fished through his briefcase for a yellow legal pad filled with notations as Pitt and Giordino settled into a pair of leather chairs.

    Though Giordino and Gunn were both short, they were as unalike as a gibbon and a bulldog. While Gunn was as slight as a girl, Giordino was a huge walking muscle. They also differed in brain power. Giordino was shrewd and street smart. Gunn was sheer genius. Number one in his class at the Naval Academy, and a former navy commander who could easily have ascended to a top staff job in the Navy Department, he preferred the underwater science of NUMA to the science of warfare. Extremely nearsighted, he peered through heavy hornrimmed glasses, but never missed the slightest movement within two hundred yards.

    Pitt was the first to speak. "Why the frenzy to send Al and me back to that rotten sinkhole to retrieve a body?"

    "The request came from U.S. Customs. They made an urgent appeal to Admiral Sandecker to borrow his best men."

    "And that includes you."

    "I could have begged off, claiming my present projects would grind to a stop without my presence. The admiral would not have hesitated to send someone else. But a canary let slip your little unauthorized mission to find a lost galleon in the wilds of Ecuador."

    "Hiram Yaeger," Pitt supplied. "I should have remembered you two are as close as Frank and Jesse James."

    "I couldn't resist dumping the routine of Washington to mix a little business with adventure, so I volunteered for the dirty job of briefing and joining you on the Customs project."

    `You mean you sold Sandecker a bill of goods and skipped town?" said Pitt.

    "Mercifully for everyone involved, he doesn't know about the hunt for the galleon. At least not yet."

    "He's not an easy man to fool," said Giordino seriously.

    Not for very long," added Pitt. "He's probably already on to you."

    Gunn waved a hand indifferently. "You two are on safe ground. Better me than some poor fool unfamiliar with your escapades. Anyone else in the NUMA bureaucracy might overestimate your abilities."

    Giordino made a surly face. "And we call him a friend?"

    "What can NUMA do for Customs that's so special?" asked Pitt.

    Gunn spread a sheaf of papers on the table. "The issue is complex but involves the plunder of ancient art."

    "Isn't that a little out of our line? Our business is underwater exploration and research."

    "Destruction for the purpose of looting underwater archaeological sites is our business," Gunn stated earnestly.

    "Where does recovering Dr. Miller's body enter the picture?"

    "Only the first step of our cooperation with Customs. The murder of a world-renowned anthropologist is the bedrock of their case. They suspect the killer is a highlevel member of an international looting syndicate, and they need proof for an indictment. They also hope to use the killer as a key to unlock the door leading to the masterminds of the entire theft and smuggling operation. As for the sacred well, Customs and Peruvian authorities believe a vast cache of artifacts was raised from the bottom and has already been shipped to black-market receiving stations around the world. Miller discovered the theft and was terminated to shut him up. They want us, you and Al in particular, to search the floor of the well for evidence."

    "And our plan to explore for the lost galleon?"

    "Complete the job on the well, and I'll authorize a small budget out of NUMA to fund your search. That's all I can promise."

    "And if the admiral shoots you down?" asked Giordino.

    Gunn shrugged. "He's my boss as well as yours. I'm an old navy man. I follow orders."

    "I'm old air force," Pitt replied. "I question them."

    "Worry about it when the time comes," said Giordino. "Let's get the sinkhole probe out of the way."

    Pitt took a deep breath and relaxed in his chair. "Might as well do something useful while Yaeger and Perlmutter conduct their research. They should have some solid leads by the time we stumble out of the jungle."