Lost City - Cussler Clive (читать книги полные TXT) 📗

"Poor hombre," Zavala said, glancing at the happy couple in the watch photograph. "What a waste of a hundred years."

"We may only have uncovered the tip of the iceberg," Mayhew said. "Who knows how many have died to keep this terrible secret?"

"I don't blame them for not advertising failures like the one on that table," Gamay said.

"It goes beyond that," Mayhew said. "Suppose this elixir has been perfected. What kind of a world would we have if some people could live longer than others?"

"A world that will be very much off balance," Gamay ventured.

"My feelings exactly, but I'm a lowly detective. I'll leave that for the analysts and policymakers to deal with. Do you plan to stay long in the UK?" he asked Austin.

"Probably not," Austin said. "We'll talk about our plans and let you know what we decide."

"I'd appreciate that." Mayhew produced a business card with his name and phone number and handed it to Austin. "Please call. Night or day. In the meantime, I can't overemphasize the importance of keeping this to yourselves."

"My report will go only to Dirk Pitt and Rudi Gunn. I'm sure the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution will be interested in the fate of its submersible."

"Fine. I'll let you know what our marines find on the island. Maybe we can track down the people behind this thing. Murder, kidnapping, hijacking, slave labor," he mused. "Immortality is a potent

motive for evil. I'd wager that anyone in this room would sell his firstborn rather than pass up the chance to live forever."

"Not everyone," said Austin.

"What do you mean? Given the chance, who wouldn't want to live forever?"

Austin gesturing toward the sheet-draped gurney. "Ask the old soldier lying on that table."

I HATE TO THROW cold water on this warmhearted reunion," Gamay said. "But with all this talk of red-eyed monsters and the Philosopher's Stone, we've~forgotten we have some unfinished business to attend to."

After the meeting with Mayhew, they had gone to their hotel lounge to discuss strategy. Sandy, the Alvin pilot, had been anxious to leave, and Mayhew had put her on a flight to London where she could catch a plane home. The scientists were still being debriefed.

"You're right," Zavala said, lifting his glass to the light. "I'm way behind in my goal to drink all the top-shelf tequila in the world."

"That's very laudable, Joe, but I'm more interested in the survival of the world, not its tequila supply," Gamay said. "May I sum the problem up in one word? Gorgon weed."

"I haven't forgotten," Austin said. "I didn't want to spoil your reunion with Paul. Now that you've brought the subject up, what's the situation?"

"Not good," Gamay said. "I've talked to Dr. Osborne, the infestation is spreading faster than anyone imagined."

"The mining operation has been stopped. Won't this halt the spread of Gorgon weed?" Austin said.

Gamay heaved a heavy sigh. "I wish. The mutated weed has become self-replicating and will continue to spread. We'll see harbors clogged along the east coast of the U.S. first, then Europe and the Pacific coast. The weed will continue its spread to other continents."

"How long do we have?"

"I don't know," Gamay said. "The ocean currents are moving the stuff all around the Atlantic."

Austin tried to picture his beloved ocean turned into a noxious saltwater swamp.

"Ironic, isn't it?" Austin said. "The Fauchards want to extend their lives, and in doing so they will produce a world that may not be worth living in." He looked around the table. "Any idea how we can stop this thing?"

"The Lost City enzyme holds the key to halting the weed's spread," Gamay said. "If we can figure out the basic molecular makeup, we may be able to find a way to reverse the process."

"My body is covered with bumps and bruises that tell me the Fauchards don't give up family secrets easily," Austin said.

"That's why Gamay and I should go back to Washington to set up a conference at NUMA with Dr. Osborne," Trout said. "We can try to get a flight out of here the first thing in the morning."

"Go to it." Austin looked around at the weary faces. "But first I suggest we all get a good night's sleep."

After bidding his friends a good-night, Austin found a computer room off the hotel lobby, where he did an abbreviated report for Rudi Gunn and sent it off by e-mail with the promise to follow up with a call in the morning. He rubbed his eyes a few times as he was typing and was glad when he pressed the SEND button and sent the message winging across the ocean.

He went up to his room and noticed that someone had called his cell phone. He returned the call, which turned out to be from Dar-nay. He had located Austin through his NUMA office.

"Thank God I have found you, Monsieur Austin," the antiquities dealer said. "Have you heard from Skye?"

"Not lately," Austin said. "I've been on the move or out at sea. I thought she was with you."

"She left here the same day she arrived. We had discovered what looked like a chemical equation etched into the crown of the helmet and she wanted to show it to an expert at the Sorbonne. I saw her off at the train. When I didn't hear from her after that night, I called the university the next day. They said she hadn't been in."

"Maybe she's been sick."

"I wish that were so. I called her apartment. There was no answer. I spoke to her landlady. Mademoiselle Skye never returned to her home after visiting me in Provence."

"I think you had better call the police," Austin said without hesitation.

"The police?"

"I know you have an understandable aversion to the authorities," Austin said in a firm voice, "but you must do this for Skye. Make an anonymous call from a pay phone if you'd like, but you must call them and report her missing. Her life may depend on it."

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll call them. She's like a daughter to me. I warned her to be careful, but you know how young people are."

"I'm in Scotland now, but I'll return to France tomorrow. I'll call you again when I get to Paris." He hung up so Darnay could notify the police and stared into space for a few moments, trying to make

sense of Skye's disappearance. His cell phone rang. It was Lessard, the manager of the glacier power plant.

"Lessard? Thank God. I've been trying to get you," he said.

"Sorry. I've been away from the phone," Austin said. "How are things at the glacier?"

"The glacier is as it always is," Lessard said. "But there are some strange things going on here."

"What do you mean?"

"A few days ago, a boat came with divers on the lake. I wondered whether NUMA had come back to finish its survey, but the boat was not the color I remember."

"The survey is over," Austin said. "There was no NUMA activity planned that I know of. What else is happening?"

"An incredible thing. The tunnels under the glacier are being drained."

"I thought you said that was impossible."

"You misunderstood. It would have been impossible to do it in time to save the people who were trapped in the tunnel. It has taken a few days to divert and pump water, but the observatory tunnel is almost dry."