The Silent Sea (2010) - Cussler Clive (лучшие бесплатные книги .txt) 📗
Linc moved in, stripping away the weapon and crashing a boot into the man's knee. The man went down, with Cabrillo staying on top of him to smother his cries. Juan didn't hesitate. The stakes were too high. He got his hand over the guard's nose and mouth and held them closed as the man struggled to free himself. It lasted less than a minute.
Damn. I didn't want to have to do that, he panted, and stood. His hands were bloody.
What do we do with him? If we take him with us, it might look suspicious. This isn't the kind of place you desert from.
Juan pulled back the guard's parka hood and stripped off a woolen balaclava. He then smeared the man's blood on a nearby bollard and positioned the body so it looked as though he had tripped, knocking himself unconscious and loosening his head protection. Ten minutes in such an exposed position was all it would take for the cold temperature to kill.
Problem solved. Let's go home.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING Cabrillo was awakened by the sound of a telephone. The mound of blankets over his bed weighed a ton, and he'd slept in sweats. Still, he felt cold. It reminded him of those frosty Kazak mornings when he had infiltrated the Baikonur Cosmodrome back in his CIA days. He snaked a hand out from under the covers and grabbed the headset from his bedside table.
Hello. It was a quarter past eight. He'd overslept.
Where are you? It was Overholt at Langley.
In bed, actually.
Are you anywhere near Antarctica? The tone was sharp, accusatory. Whatever pressure Langston was under, he was making sure Juan felt it, too.
We're halfway to Cape Town for the Emir of Kuwait's visit, Cabrillo said so smoothly he half believed it himself.
You sure?
Lang, I've got a couple million dollars' worth of navigational gear crammed into the Oregon. I think I know where we are. Mind telling me what has your tighty-whities in a twist?
You know that sub the Chinese sent down to protect the Argentines?
I recall you mentioning they were headed that way.
The People's Liberation Army Navy has lost contact with her after she was ordered to investigate a ship wandering into their exclusionary zone. That was thirty-six hours ago.
I promise you, we were east of the Falklands by then, halfway to St. Helena Island.
Thank God.
Juan had never heard his friend so despondent. What's going on?
Since losing that sub, the Chinese have been on a tear. They claim we sank it, but they have no proof. They say that any overt act against the Argentines, no matter who does it, will be seen as an attack by the United States. If something does happen down there, they will recall all outstanding American debt. That's three-quarters of a trillion dollars. We'll be ruined completely because everyone else holding treasuries and bonds will call them, too. It'll be like the bank runs at the start of the Depression.
Through diplomatic channels, we got word to them that if they did call the debt we would slap them with tariffs so no one here would buy their goods. In essence, they dared us. They don't care if their people are out of work and starving. When it comes to economic attrition, they can bury us. We've outsourced and borrowed ourselves into a corner and now we're going to pay the price.
They said 'yovert act'?
Overt. Covert. It doesn't matter. They have us over a barrel. End of story. The President has ordered any U.S. warships in the Atlantic to stay above the equator, and he's recalling all our fast-attack submarines to show the Chinese that we won't interfere with what they and the Argentines have done. As of today, the United States has ceded its superpower status to the Chinese.
Coming from a man who had played a significant role in ending the Soviet Union's bid for world domination, those last words were especially painful to hear. Juan didn't know what to say, and as of this moment wasn't sure what he was going to do.
The right thing was to keep with his plan and let the chips fall where they may. However, he had to consider what would happen to the people back home. What Overholt described would make the Great Depression sound like a boom time sixty or seventy percent unemployment, hunger and the violence it inevitably spawned, the breakdown of the rule of law. In essence, it would be the end of the United States.
He finally found his voice. Well, you don't have to worry about us. Like I told you, we're on our way to South Africa.
I guess I'm glad to hear it, Langston said wearily. You know, Juan, we still might not get out of this so easily.
What do you mean?
We can placate the Chinese, but North Korea's demanding we draw down the number of soldiers we have in the south or risk a military confrontation. And last night a small bomb went off near the Presidential Palace in Caracas. The Venezuelans are claiming it was an assassination plot perpetrated by Colombian Special Forces. They've vowed revenge, and a check of satellite imagery shows them moving troops to the border. Interestingly, they started a couple of days ago.
Which means they probably set it off themselves for a pretext.
That's my read on it, too, but it doesn't matter. China's heavily invested in Venezuela, so you can imagine our reaction if they do invade Colombia.
Thumb twiddling?
That might be seen as too provocative, Overholt said with gallows humor. We'll probably sit on our hands instead. Listen, I've got a full slate of meetings this morning. I'll talk to you later about any new developments. Give my best to the Kuwaiti Emir if we don't speak before you get there.
I'm sure we will, Juan replied.
He replaced the handset and threw off his blankets. The floor was as cold as a hockey rink, and just as slippery under Juan's woolen hunting sock. He wasn't sure who was better at playing the game. Him for lying to Overholt or Langston for trying to manipulate him. The veteran CIA minder did think that the Oregon was heading for Cape Town, but he'd told Juan about North Korea and Venezuela to get him to turn back.
Do the right thing, Juan's father had often told him. The consequences are easier to deal with, no matter what you think.
He dressed quickly and was in the op center with a cup of coffee from a silver urn on a back table. With the ship firmly grounded, Maurice had pulled out their finest Royal Doulton. It was the steward's subtle way of getting back at him for his earlier crack. If Juan recalled properly, the cup in his hand had cost seventy-five dollars.
How did Mike and his team make out? he asked. Murph and Stoney were in their customary seats toward the front of the room.
They got back at about four this morning, Eric Stone replied. He left word that it went well, but they need at least one more night. But there's a problem.
Isn't there always?
The workboat with the sonar gear went south this morning.
Juan cursed. If he could find the wreck in a submersible so quickly, it was a safe assumption that the Chinese would, too. I bet the other bay is iced over, so they're checking on the right one.
What do you want to do about it? Mark asked.
Not sure, Juan replied. We can't catch them in either of the submersibles, and if we go after them in an RHIB they might radio back to base about an unknown craft approaching them.
Hali Kasim was sitting at his customary station. He offered, So what if they find it today? All they'll be able to do is take some grainy underwater pictures. It proves nothing, and by this time tomorrow the wreck will be destroyed.
Playing devil's advocate, Eric said, if they find the wreck, who's to say they don't stay overnight? That'll mess up our schedule.
Juan felt the beginnings of a headache and rubbed his temples absently. Of course there was the other problem that he had no idea how to tackle. He'd already run his idea by Kevin Nixon, but the special-effects master said any fakes he made would be spotted in a second. It was the real deal or nothing. For their plan to work so the Argentines never suspected a thing, Cabrillo needed to find eighteen human skeletons.
