The Silent Sea (2010) - Cussler Clive (лучшие бесплатные книги .txt) 📗
This would be the duty guard watching the video feed from the lobby, Juan thought as he flipped the man's pistol under the four-poster whose huge size made him think this was the master suite. And the General is out tonight, which means the Chinese interrogators were probably out with him. He guessed there would be no more than three other guards watching over Tamara Wright. They'd caught a break.
Beyond the bedroom door was a hallway with mahogany floors and an Oriental runner. Light spilled from an open door a few paces away, and by its gray hue Juan knew it was where the guards had their monitor station. The ceiling in the hall was at least eleven feet, and the crown molding was the most intricate Cabrillo had ever seen.
Another door opened. The man wore nothing but boxer shorts and was wiping sleep from his eyes. Juan gave him a double tap to the forehead that would put him down for hours. With Linc covering his six, Juan peered into this new room. There were two beds, but only one had been slept in. The random thought that the lady of the house couldn't be too thrilled about soldiers sleeping on her fine linen popped into his head.
He opened the next door a crack and saw a tiled bathroom with a tub big enough to swim laps. He swung the door open just a bit more to let in light from the hallway and spotted three razors on the vanity and three toothbrushes sitting upright in a cut-crystal glass.
One more to go. The next door was a closet filled with towels and sheets, and the one after that was the General's study. The desk was enormous, and behind it, on a credenza, was a stuffed and mounted jaguar. From the size, it looked to be an adolescent female. Cabrillo was liking Espinoza less and less.
A gun went off behind him, a loud report that echoed off the tall ceiling. Linc twisted around the doorjamb as another round blew some molding into expensive slivers. Juan slung the MP-5 behind his back and pulled one of the FN pistols. Unlike the machine gun's, these bullets were hot-loaded with lead. His wet shoes squelched, but he suspected the gunman's hearing was compromised.
He ducked his head around the corner, low to the ground, and drew a snap shot that went high but gave away the Argentine's position. He was hiding behind the door at the end of the hall. A light was on in the room, and Juan could see the outline of his foot in the space between the door and the floor. He laid his automatic on the carpet runner and fired two quick shots. The spent brass arced inches from his face.
The scream echoed almost as loud as the gunshots. The bullet hit the gunman's foot and shattered the delicate bones. As he hopped onto his other foot, Cabrillo fired again. This bullet grazed the bottom edge of the door but still carried the energy to plow through flesh. The Argentine fell to the ground, moaning at the agony radiating up from his ruined feet. Linc moved fast, covering the unseen gunman with his own pistol held ready.
He swept into the room, checking corners automatically and kicking aside the fallen gunman's pistol. We'll have you out of here in a second, ma'am, he said to Tamara Wright, who was handcuffed to a bed and gagged. She wore the same dress she had on aboard the Natchez Belle.
Juan came in right after him, and when she recognized the Chairman the panic and fear that swelled in her eyes subsided. He untied her gag and tossed it to Linc, who quickly wound it around the wounded guard's mouth to stifle the sounds of his agony.
How did . . . ? How are . . . ? So overwhelmed, Tamara couldn't get a question out.
Later was all Juan said.
Linc carried a heavy pair of bolt cutters in a scabbard on his back. He pulled them free like a samurai drawing his katana. It didn't take one tenth of his strength to cut the chain binding Tamara to the bed. They would remove the cuffs back on the Oregon.
Have they hurt you? Juan asked.
Um, no. Not really. They've just been asking me questions about
Later, he repeated. Getting to her was the easy part of the operation. Getting them all back out was going to be tricky. Do you know how to swim?
She could only stare at such an apropos-to-nothing question.
Can you?
Yes, why? Never mind. I know, later.
Juan admired her spirit and didn't blame Max one bit for wanting to date her. Tamara Wright had an inner core of strength that even the past few days of terror couldn't diminish.
He tapped his comm link. Sitrep.
Linda's elfin voice filled his ear. The doorman made a call as soon as he heard the shots. I figure we've got a minute, tops, before the cops arrive.
Cabrillo guessed less. We're on our way.
Mark's ready.
The three Americans retreated back the way Juan and Linc had assaulted the apartment. The hook hovered just outside the broken window. Linc lifted Tamara over the broken glass and set her directly atop a metal platform encircling the crane's cable just above the hook. While it made a perfect perch for them, its purpose was to prevent rats from climbing the cable in what was a millennialong battle between rodents and mariners.
Lincoln climbed on directly behind her, shielding her body and holding her steady. Don't you worry. Uncle Franklin's got you.
Don't you mean Nephew Franklin? she said.
As soon as Juan wrapped his gloved fist around the cable, Mark dropped them toward the sidewalk as smoothly as an Otis elevator. Linda had the car pulled over to the curb with the doors already opened. The windshield wipers beat furiously at the rain.
Mark jumped from the crane's cab, and he and Linc sandwiched Tamara Wright in the backseat. The feet wells were packed with equipment, forcing Linc's knees up by his head. Linda had slid over to the passenger's side, leaving Juan at the wheel. Sirens sounded in the distance. He put the sedan in gear and eased away from the curb as if they didn't have a care in the world.
Maybe the hard part is over, Juan thought, but he knew not to say it aloud.
The fates heard him anyway.
A big black town car raced into the intersection and slid to a stop a few feet from their bumper, forcing Cabrillo to jam on the brakes. Doors were thrown open, and a large bald man wearing a dress uniform erupted from the back of the Cadillac. He had a pistol in his hand and opened fire immediately.
The people in the sedan ducked as bullets cored through the windshield. Juan cranked the transmission into reverse and reached up to adjust the rearview mirror. A bullet whizzed close enough to his wrist that he could feel its hot passage, but now he could see behind them without exposing his head.
They backed up for fifty feet, beyond all but an expert's ability with a handgun, before Juan mashed the emergency-brake pedal and spun the wheel. The wet asphalt helped him pirouette the woefully underpowered car in a slide worthy of a Hollywood chase.
He released the brake, dropped the car into first, and accelerated away. One more bullet hit the car, a wild shot that mangled one of the wing mirrors.
Is everyone okay? he called without taking his eyes off the road. It was like driving through a continuous waterfall.
Yeah, we're fine, Mark replied. Who was that?
General Philippe Espinoza, whose house we just raided. He must have been on his way back from dinner when the doorman called.
That was the man asking me questions, Tamara told them, him and the creepy Chinese guy named Sun. I could tell he was from Beijing, and I'm pretty sure he was State Security.
Here in Argentina on a diplomatic passport, no doubt. The sirens were getting closer. Juan slowed. The only way out of this was to not attract attention and hope they could lose Espinoza, because the General was surely coming after them. Mark, are you ready with our bag of tricks?
Say the word, Chairman.
Juan was thinking about chain of command. Espinoza doubtlessly knew someone in the police a chief or commissioner, most likely. Fifteen minutes would pass by the time the General called his friend, who would in turn call someone lower in the police hierarchy, and so on, until a description of their car made it to the patrols out on the streets. If they could elude Espinoza and not draw attention to themselves, they would be halfway across the city before the APB went out.
