Lost City - Cussler Clive (читать книги полные TXT) 📗
He stared at Austin's torn jester costume, and then at Skye, who looked like an alley cat that'd been in a fight, then back at Austin. "Americain?" he said. "Oui," Austin said with a weary grin.
The clerk nodded his head sagely and pushed the guest book across the desk.
TROUT WAS STRETCHED out on the cramped bunk with his hands behind his head when he sensed that a barely audible vibration had replaced the low-end rumble of the sub's engines. He felt a soft jolt, as if the submarine had come to a cushioned stop. Then there was silence.
Gamay, who was dozing off on the top bunk, said, "What was that?"
"I think we've docked," Trout said.
Prying his long body off the tight sleeping platform, Trout got up and pressed his ear to the door. He heard nothing, and he surmised that the sub had reached its destination. Minutes later, two armed guards unlocked the cabin door and told them to get moving. Sandy was waiting in the corridor under the watchful eyes of a second pair of guards. She had been moved to another cabin and it was the first time they had seen the Alvin's pilot since MacLean visit.
Trout gave Sandy a wink of reassurance and she greeted him with a nervous smile. Sandy was holding up well, but Trout wasn't surprised at her resilience. Anyone who piloted a deep submergence vehicle on a regular basis might be frightened, but not intimidated. With guards in front and behind, they climbed several levels to a hatchway that took them out onto the submarine's deck forward of the conning tower.
The sub was around four hundred feet long. It was anchored in a cavernous submarine pen that had a high arched roof. At the far end of the chamber, an intricate system of conveyor belts and ladder hoists disappeared into the wall. The guards prodded them across a gangway. MacLean was waiting on the dock.
"Good day, my fellow passengers," the chemist said, with a genial smile. "Follow me, if you will, as we enter the next phase of our adventure."
MacLean led the way to a large freight elevator. As the door closed, he glanced at his watch and his smile vanished.
"You've got about thirty-two seconds to talk," he said.
"I only need two seconds to ask you where we are," Trout said.
"I don't know where it is, but I suspect from the climate and the terrain that it's in the North Sea or Scandinavia. Maybe even Scotland." He checked his watch again. "Time's up."
The elevator door hissed open and they stepped out into a small room. The armed guard who was waiting for them barked into his walkie-talkie, then ushered them outside to a waiting minibus. The guard motioned for them to climb aboard, and then he followed, sitting in the back where he could keep an eye on the passengers. Before the guard pulled the window blinds down, Trout caught a glimpse of a long narrow cove far below the edge of the road.
After a ride of about twenty minutes over unpaved roads, the bus stopped and the guard ordered them off. They were in a complex of buildings surrounded by high barbed wire fence topped with electrical transformers. There were guards everywhere and the complex was disturbingly reminiscent of a concentration camp. The guard pointed toward a squat concrete building about the size of a ware
house. To get to it, they had to pass through more barbed wire. As they neared the building's entrance, an unearthly scream from inside the structure pierced the air. A chorus of shrieking howls followed.
Sandy's face registered her alarm. "Is this a zoo?" she said.
"I suppose you could say so," MacLean said. His grim smile was not especially reassuring. "But you'll find creatures here that the London Zoo never dreamed existed."
"I don't understand," Gamay said.
"You will."
Trout grabbed the chemist by the sleeve. "Please don't play games with us."
"Sorry at the poor attempts at humor. I've been through this little orientation one too many times and it's starting to get to me. Try not to be too alarmed at what you're about to see. The little dog and pony show is not meant to harm you, only to scare you into submission."
Trout gave him a faint smile. "You don't know how good that makes us feel, Dr. MacLean
MacLean raised a bushy eyebrow. "I can see that you're not without a bleak sense of humor yourself."
"It's my Yankee upbringing. Our long crummy winters discourage a sunny view of the world."
"Good," MacLean said. "You'll need every bit of pessimism you can summon if you are to survive this hellhole. Welcome to the strange island of Dr. Moreau," he said, referring to the fictional story of the mad scientist who transformed men into beasts.
The guard had opened the double steel security doors and the stench that poured from inside the building overpowered all thoughts. The foul odor was a minor annoyance compared with the sounds and sights in the large room.
The walls were lined with cages occupied by manlike beasts that clawed and bit at the bars. The cages held twenty-five to thirty of the
creatures. They stood on two legs and wore filthy rags, and were stooped over in a half crouch. Their long stringy white hair and beards obscured much of their faces, but there were glimpses of wizened and wrinkled features, the skin covered with dark age spots. Their mouths were open in a feral howl of rage and anger, displaying ragged and stained teeth. Their eyes were blood red and glowed with a terrifying luminosity.
Sandy had had enough. In a display of common sense, she bolted for the door, only to be blocked by a tall man dressed in army camouflage. He easily caught her by the arm and led her back into the building. He had a large nose, a sharply tapered chin and a leering mouth filled with gold teeth. A black beret was perched rakishly on his head. His presence had astrange effect on the caged creatures. They went silent at his arrival and retreated to the back of their cages.
"Good day, Dr. MacLean he said, speaking in a European accent. He eyed the Trouts, letting his gaze linger on Gamay. "These are our newest recruits?" "They are experts in our fields of study," MacLean said.
There was a flurry of activity at the door.
"What luck. You and our new guests arrived at feeding time."
A crew of guards entered, pushing a dolly stacked high with rat traps, the humane type that catches rodents without killing them. The guards unloaded the dolly, carried the traps and their squeaking occupants to the cages and released the rats.
Eyes glittering like rubies, the white-haired creatures had returned to the front of the cages. They must have been familiar with the drill because they were ready when the rats darted out of the traps. They pounced on the unfortunate rodents with the speed of panthers. Growling ferociously, they ripped the rats to pieces and devoured them with all the gusto of a gourmet in a five-star restaurant.
Sandy ran for the door again. This time, the man wearing the
beret stood aside and let her go, roaring with laughter. Gamay was tempted to follow, but she knew she would rip the man's arm off if he laid a hand on her.
"The young lady evidently does not appreciate our recycling system. We control our rat infestation and feed our pets at the same time." Turning to MacLean he said, "I hope you have told our guests what a lovely place this is."
"You are far more eloquent and persuasive than I could ever be, Colonel," MacLean said.
"That is true," the man said. He turned to face Trout. "I am Colonel Strega, the commander of this laboratory facility. The filthy devils you see enjoying their fine meals were once men like you. If you and the ladies do not do as you are told, we can make you into one of these fine-mannered fellows. Or we can feed you to them. It will all be according to my mood and generosity. The rules here are simple. You will work without complaint and in return you will be allowed to live. Do you understand?"
