Lost City - Cussler Clive (читать книги полные TXT) 📗
Marcel's men were yelling with excitement with their prey in sight. The path led to a junction where three other lanes came together in a four-lane intersection.
"Which way?" Skye said..
The choices were limited. Voices were coming from the paths on either side.
"Straight," he said.
Austin sprinted across the intersection with Skye on his heels. As they ran, he scanned the woods, looking for an opening, but the trees grew close together and impenetrable brush and thorn bushes blocked the way. Then the trees ended suddenly and the path plunged between hedges at least ten feet tall. They came to another intersection, this one with two lanes. Austin started down one, then came back and took a few steps down another. Both were flanked by tall hedges, almost as impenetrable as the chateau's walls.
"Uh-oh," he said.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est "Uh-oh'?"
"I think we're in a garden maze."
Skye looked around. "Oh, merde" she said. "Now what do we do?"
"We don't have a lab rat to lead us through this thing, so I'd suggest that we keep moving until we find our way out."
Since it didn't seem to make any difference, they took the left-hand path along a long curved stretch of hedge that swirled back on itself before branching out into two more lanes. The maze was going to be a challenge, Austin thought. It was laid out in a freehand design with circles and flourishes rather than with the right angles of a crossword puzzle grid. They would round a sharp corner only to find they were heading back in roughly the same direction.
Marcel's men were in the maze now. A couple of times, Austin and Skye stopped and held their breath until the voices faded on the other side of a hedge. They were within a few feet of each other, separated only by shrubbery.
Austin knew that Marcel would bring in more reinforcements and it would only be a matter of time before they were caught. There was simply no happy ending to their story unless they found their way out of the green labyrinth. If he were Marcel, he'd be guarding every escape route from the maze. Damn!
Austin had stubbed his toe on a hard object. He went down on one knee and let loose with a string of quiet curses. But his anger turned to a muted joy when he discovered he had tripped over a wooden ladder that had probably been left by a gardener.
He lifted the ladder off the ground, leaned it against the hedge and climbed to the flat top. He crawled belly down, and as the sharp branches stabbed through his thin jester's costume he had the sensation of lying on a spongy bed of nails. But the hedge held his weight. Lights were moving at several points in the maze. A search party was coming along the path toward Skye. He called down in a soft voice and told Skye to climb up the ladder onto the hedge. Then he pulled the ladder up and they lay on top of it. Not a moment too soon.
They could hear boots crunching in the gravel and heavy breathing and whispers.
Austin waited until the searchers had gone down another lane, then he moved the ladder so that the other end rested on the closest hedge, bridging the space between. He crawled across the ladder and held it steady for Skye to follow. They repeated the process with the next hedge.
As long as they stayed in astraight line, they could work their way out of the maze. They worked as a team, placing their improvised bridge, crawling across it, watching for searchers and then doing it again. The branches tore at their palms and knees, but they ignored the discomfort.
Austin could see the black line of trees in the darkness with only a few more hedgerows to bridge when they heard the thrump of helicopter rotors coming from the direction of the chateau. The helicopter was a few hundred feet in the air, moving toward the maze. Then a twin pair of searchlights came on and scanned the ground below.
Austin did a quick ladder shift to the next hedge, but in his haste he misjudged the distance. When he crawled across the ladder, it slipped from the furthermost hedge and he tumbled onto the gravel path. He sprang to his feet, climbed back onto the hedge next to Skye and placed the ladder with more care this time. Then he was across, quickly followed by Skye.
The mistake had cost them precious time. The helicopter was making its first pass over the maze, the brilliant searchlights turning night into day. Austin bridged the last path and turned back to help Skye. Her foot slipped off one of the rungs about midway and he reached across to pull her toward him. The helicopter was moving closer. With Skye beside him, Austin slid the ladder down the outside of
the last hedgerow. She climbed to the ground with the speed of a spider monkey. Her agility might have been due in part to avoid having Austin step on her hands. As soon as he hit the ground, Austin pulled the ladder down and shoved it close to the base of the hedge. Then he and Skye stretched out beside it. The helicopter roared overhead.
They could feel the downdraft as the chopper executed a tight turn and came back over the maze and moved back and forth over the hedgerows. After a minute, the chopper darted off and began a sweep of the woods.
In its quick swing, the chopper's lights had illuminated an opening in the tree line. Austin helped Skye to her feet and they ran along the gravel path that surrounded the hedge, then they sprinted along a grassy path into the woods, unsure of where they were going but grateful to be out of the maze.
Several minutes later, they broke out into the open. They were at the edge of a meadow or field, but Austin was more interested in the ghostly outline of a building near the edge of the woods. "What is it?" Skye whispered. "Any port in a storm," he whispered.
He told her to stay put and loped across the field in the silver moonlight.
Austin MADE IT across the moonlit field without incident and edged his way along the wall of the field stone building. He found an unlocked door and stepped into the dark interior, where his nostrils picked up the garage odors of oil and gasoline. He allowed himself a measure of optimism; a garage might house a car or truck. His groping fingers found a light switch and he discovered a second later that he was not in a garage, but in a small hangar.
The bright red biplane had swept-back wings and a heart-shaped tail decorated with a black three-headed-eagle design. He ran his fingers along the fabric fuselage, admiring the painstaking restoration that had gone into the aircraft. Attached to the underside of each wing was a torpedo-shaped metal tank. A skull and crossbones was stenciled on the outside of the containers. Poison.
He peered into the twin cockpits. The pilot's controls in the rear cockpit consisted of a single lever in front of the seat and a foot bar that controlled the rudder for steering. The forward-and-back movement of the stick would control the elevator. Moving it from side to
side worked the ailerons at the ends of the wings, which tilted the plane for a turn. The system was primitive, but at the same time it was a miracle of simplicity that allowed the plane to be flown with one hand.
The cockpit housed an array of instruments that hadn't come with the original model, boasting handy devices like an up-to-date radio, a modern compass and GPS navigation system. Earphones connected the cockpits. Austin made a quick inspection of the hangar. The walls were hung with tools and spare parts. He peeked into a storeroom filled with plastic containers that were marked with skull and crossbones. The labels identified the contents of the containers as pesticide.
Austin snatched an electric torch from a wall bracket, turned the lights off and went to the door. All was quiet. He clicked the light on and off three times, and then watched as a shadow darted from the woods and made its way silently across the field to the hangar. He scanned the meadow and woods to make sure Skye hadn't been seen, and then pulled her into the hangar and shut the door.
