cussler.blueandgold-第3节

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　〃If　our　friend　hadn't　been　so　anxious　to　give　me　a　headache；　he　would　have　found　this；〃　he　said　with　a　grim　smile。
　This　was　definitely　not　the　same　rumpled　man　who　had　seemed　more　like　an　absentminded　professor　than　a　bodyguard。　Francesca's　elation　was　tempered　by　reality。　〃What　can　you　do？　They　have　at　least　two　guns；　and　we　can't　fly　the　plane。〃
　〃Forgive　me；　Senhora　Cabral。　Another　failure　to　be　forthright　on　my　part。〃　Sounding　almost　guilty；　he　said；　〃I　forgot　to　mention　that　I　was　in　the　Brazilian　air　force　before　I　joined　the　secret　service。　Please　help　me　up。〃
　Francesca　was　speechless。　What　other　rabbits　would　this　man　pull　out　of　his　hat？　She　gave　him　a　hand　until　he　was　able　to　stand　on　shaky　legs。　After　a　minute　a　new　strength　and　determination　seemed　to　flow　through　his　body。　〃Stay　here　until　I　tell　you　what　to　do；〃　he　said　with　the　air　of　a　man　used　to　people　obeying　his　mand。
　He　went　forward　and　opened　the　door。　The　pilot　glanced　over　his　shoulder　and　said；　〃Hey；　look　who's　back　from　the　land　of　the　living　dead。　Guess　I　didn't　hit　you　hard　enough。〃
　〃You　don't　get　a　second　chance；〃　Phillipo　said。　He　jammed　the　revolver　barrel　under　the　Texan's　ear　hard　enough　to　hurt。　〃If　I　shoot　one　of　you；　the　other　can　still　fly。　Which　one　will　it　be？〃
　〃Christ；　you　said　you　took　his　gun！〃　Carlos　said。
　〃You've　got　a　short　memory；　cavaleiro；〃　the　pilot　replied　calmly。　〃You　shoot　us　and　who's　going　to　fly　the　plane？〃
　〃I　will；　cavaleiro。　Sorry　I　didn't　bring　my　pilot's　license　with　me。　You'll　have　to　take　my　word　for　it。〃
　Riordan　turned　his　head　slightly　and　saw　the　cold　smile　wreathing　the　bodyguard's　face。
　〃I　take　back　what　I　said　about　dealing　with　a　professional；〃　Riordan　said。　〃What　now；　partner？〃
　〃Give　me　the　two　guns。　One　at　a　time。〃
　The　pilot　handed　over　his　pistol　and　the　one　he　had　taken　from　Phillipo。　The　bodyguard　passed　the　weapons　back　to　Francesca；　who　had　e　up　behind　him。
　〃Get　out　of　your　seat；〃　he　ordered；　backing　into　the　cabin。　〃Slowly。〃
　Riordan　caught　the　copilot's　eye　and　levered　himself　out　of　his　seat。　Using　his　body　to　shield　the　gesture；　he　made　a　quick　palm…down　flip　with　his　hand。　The　copilot　nodded　almost　imperceptibly　to　show　he　understood。
　The　pilot　followed　Phillipo　as　if　drawn　by　an　imaginary　leash；　as　the　bodyguard　backed　up　into　the　cabin。　〃I　want　you　to　go　lie　facedown　on　the　divan；〃　Phillipo　said；　keeping　his　gun　pointed　at　Riordan's　chest。

　〃Hell；　I　was　hoping　I　could　take　a　nap；〃　the　pilot　said。　〃That's　real　kind　of　you。〃
　Francesca　had　backed　off　the　aisle　to　make　room　for　the　two　men　to　pass。　Phillipo　asked　her　to　get　some　plastic　trash　bags　from　under　a　front　seat。　Phillipo　intended　to　use　the　bags　to　bind　the　pilot。　With　Riordan　on　ice　he　would　only　have　to　deal　with　the　copilot。
　The　cabin　was　about　twelve　feet　long。　In　the　tight　space　Phillipo　had　to　step　aside　to　let　the　other　man　pass。　He　re　minded　Riordan　not　to　try　anything　at　close　quarters；　because　it　would　be　impossible　to　miss。　Riordan　nodded　and　stepped　to　ward　the　rear。　They　were　only　a　few　inches　apart　when　the　co　pilot　put　the　plane　over　on　its　left　side。
　Riordan　had　expected　the　move；　but　he　didn't　know　when　it　would　e　or　that　it　would　be　so　violent。　He　lost　his　balance　and　was　thrown　onto　a　seat；　his　head　slamming　into　the　bulkhead。　Phillipo　was　lifted　off　his　feet。　He　flew　across　the　cabin　and　landed　on　top　of　Riordan。
　The　pilot　disentangled　his　right　hand　and　blasted　his　big　fist　into　the　bodyguard's　jaw。　Phillipo　saw　galaxies　whirling　over　his　head　and　almost　blacked　out；　but　he　managed　to　keep　a　death　grip　on　the　gun。　Riordan　brought　his　arm　back　for　another　punch。　Phillipo　blocked　it　with　his　elbow。
　Both　men　were　street　fighters。　Phillipo　clawed　at　Riordan's　eyes。　The　pilot　bit　Phillipo　on　the　fleshy　part　of　the　palm。　The　bodyguard　jammed　his　knee　into　Riordan's　groin；　and　when　the　pilot　opened　his　mouth；　Phillipo　snapped　his　head　forward；　smashing　the　cartilage　in　Riordan's　nose。　He　might　have　gained　the　upper　hand；　but　at　that　point　the　copilot　made　the　plane　yaw　sharply　to　the　right。
　The　struggling　men　flew　across　the　aisle　into　the　opposite　seat。　Now　the　American　was　on　top。　Phillipo　tried　to　club　Riordan　with　the　gun's　muzzle；　but　the　pilot　grabbed　his　wrist　with　two　hands　and　twisted　it　away　and　down。　Phillipo　was　strong；　but　he　was　no　match　for　the　double…teamed　assault。　The　barrel　swung　closer　to　his　midsection。
　The　pilot　had　his　hands　on　the　gun　and　was　wrestling　it　away。　Phillipo　tried　to　hold　on　to　the　pistol；　almost　had　control　of　it　again；　but　the　grip　was　slippery　from　the　jets　of　blood　flowing　from　Riordan's　nose。　In　a　wrenching　twist　the　pilot　took　control　of　the　gun；　got　his　fingertip　onto　the　trigger；　and　squeezed。
　There　was　a　muffled　crack！　Phillipo's　body　jerked　and　then　went　limp　as　the　bullet　plowed　into　his　chest。
　The　plane　righted　itself　as　the　copilot　put　it　back　into　its　nor　mal　position。　Riordan　stood　and　staggered　toward　the　cockpit。　He　stopped　and　turned；　apparently　sensing　something　wasn't　right。
　The　gun　he　had　left　behind　was　propped　up　on　the　body　guard's　chest。　Phillipo　was　trying　to　steady　it　for　a　shot。　Riordan　charged　like　a　wounded　rhino。　The　pistol　cracked。　The　first　bullet　hit　the　pilot　in　the　shoulder；　and　he　kept　ing。　Phillipo's　brain　died；　but　his　finger　twitched　twice　more。　The　second　shot　caught　the　pilot　in　the　heart　and　killed　him　instantly。　The　third　went　wild　and　missed　him　pletely。　Even　as　the　pilot　crashed　to　the　floor；　the　pistol　had　dropped　from　Phillipo's　hand。
　The　struggle　from　one　side　of　the　cabin　to　the　other　had　taken　only　a　few　seconds。　Francesca　had　been　thrown　between　the　seats　and　played　possum　as　the　bloodied　pilot　was　making　his　way　back　to　the　cockpit。　The　shots　sent　her　down　again。
　She　cautiously　stuck　her　head　into　the　aisle　and　saw　the　pilot's　still　body。　She　crawled　over　to　Phillipo's　side；　pried　the　pistol　from　his　bloody　hands；　and　approached　the　cockpit　door；　too　enraged　to　feel　fear。　Her　anger　quickly　turned　to　shock。
　The　copilot　was　slumped　forward；　his　body　held　in　place　by　his　seatbelt。　There　was　a　bullet　hole　in　the　partition　separating　the　cockpit　from　the　cabin　and　through　the　back　of　the　copilot's　chair。　Phillipo's　third　shot。
　Francesca　pulled　the　copilot　upright。　His　groan　told　her　he　was　still　alive。
　〃Can　you　talk？〃　she　said。
　Carlos　rolled　his　eyes　and　whispered　a　hoarse　〃Yes。〃
　〃Good。　You've　been　shot；　but　I　don't　think　it　hit　any　vital　organs；〃　she　lied。　〃I'm　going　to　stop　the　bleeding。〃
　She　retrieved　the　first　aid　kit；　thinking　that　what　she　really　needed　was　an　emergency…room　trauma　unit。　She　almost　fainted　at　the　sight　of　the　blood　flowing　from　the　wound　down　his　back　to　puddle　on　the　floor。　The　press　she　applied　immediately　turned　scarlet；　but　it　may　have　helped　stanch　the　loss　of　blood。　It　was　impossible　to　tell。　The　only　thing　she　knew　for　certain　was　that　the　man　was　going　to　die。
　With　fearful　apprehension　she　looked　at　the　glowing　instrument　panel；　numbed　by　the　realization　that　this　dying　man　was　the　key　to　her　survival。　She　had　to　keep　him　alive。
　Francesca　retrieved　the　bottle　of　rum　and　tilted　it　to　the　copilot's　lips。　The　rum　dribbled　down　his　chin；　and　the　little　amount　he　swallowed　made　him　cough。　He　asked　for　more。　The　strong　liquor　brought　color　to　his　pale　cheeks　and　the　gleam　of　life　back　into　the　glazed　eyes。
　She　put　her　lips　close　to　his　ear。　〃You　must　fly；〃　she　said　levelly。　〃It's　our　only　chance。〃
　
　The　proximity　of　a　beautiful　woman　seemed　to　give　him　energy。　His　eyes　were　glassy　but　alert。　He　nodded　and　reached　out　with　shaking　hand　to　flick　on　the　radio　that　connected　him　directly　with　traffic　control　in　Rio。　Francesca　eased　into　the　pilot's　seat　and　slipped　on　the　headset。　The　voice　of　the　traffic　controller　came　on。　Carlos　asked　for　help　with　his　eyes。　Francesca　began　to　talk；　explaining　their　predicament　to　traffic　control。
　
　〃What　do　you　advise　us　to　do？〃　she　said。
　
　After　an　agonizing　pause　the　voice　said；　〃Proceed　to　Caracas　immediately。〃
　
　〃Caracas　too　far；〃　Carlos　croaked；　mustering　the　strength　to　talk。　〃Someplace　closer。〃
　
　Several　more　moments　dragged　by。
　
　The　dispatcher's　voice　came　back。　〃There's　a　small　provincial　airstrip　two　hundred　miles　from　your　position　at　San　Pedro；　out　side　Caracas。　No　instrument　approach；　but　the　weather　is　perfect。　Can　you　make　it？〃
　
　〃Yes；〃　Francesca　said。
　
　The　copilot　fumbled　with　the　keypad　of　the　flight　puter。　With　all　the　strength　at　his　mand　he　called　up　the　international　identifier　for　San　Pedro　and　entered　it　in　the　puter。
　
　Guided　by　the　puter；　the　plane　began　to　make　a　turn。
　
　Carlos　smiled　slightly。　〃Didn't　I　tell　you　this　plane　flies　by　itself；　senhora？〃　His　wheezy　words　had　a　drowsy　quality　to　them。　He　was　obviously　being　weaker　from　loss　of　blood。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　before　he　passed　out。
　
　〃I　don't　care　who　flies　it；〃　she　said　sharply。　〃Just　get　us　on　the　ground。〃
　
　Carlos　nodded　and　set　up　the　automatic　descent　profile　on　the　flight　puter　to　take　the　plane　down　to　two　thousand　feet。　The　plane　began　to　descend　through　the　clouds；　and　before　long　patches　of　green　were　visible。　The　sight　of　land