cc.iceberg-第32节

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t　sauntered　easily　toward　them；　smiling。
　〃Pardon　me；　gentlemen；　any　of　you　speak　English？〃
　
　A　shaggy；　long…haired　mechanic　sitting　nearest　the　urn　looked　up　and　drawled；　〃Yeah；　I　speak　American　if　that'll　do。〃
　〃That　will　do　fine；〃　Pitt　laughed。　〃I'm　looking　for　a　man　with　the　initials　S。C。　He's　probably　a　hydraulic　specialist。〃
　
　The　mechanic　eyed　him　uneasily。　〃Who　wants　to　know？〃
　
　Pitt　forced　a　friendly　smile　and　pulled　out　his　I。D。　again。
　〃Pitt；　Major　Dirk　Pitt。〃
　
　For　a　full　five　seconds　the　mechanic　sat　immobile；　expressionless　except　for　the　stunned　widening　of　his　eyes。　Then　he　threw　his　hands　in　the　air　helplessly　and　then　let　them　fall　limply　to　his　sides。
　〃Ya；　got　your　man；　Major。　Ah　knew　it　were　too　good　to　last。〃　The　voice　reached　from　somewhere　deep　in　Oklahoma。
　
　It　was　Pitts　turn　to　bee　expressionless。　〃Like　what's　too　good　to　last？〃
　〃Mah　moonlightin'　lak　this；〃　he　drawled　morosely。　〃　'working'　as　a　hydraulic　specialist　for　civilian　airlines　during　mah　off…duty　hours。〃　He　stared　forlornly　into　his　coffee　cup。　〃Ah　knew　it　was　against　U。S。　Air　Force　regulations；　but　the　money　was　too　good　to　pass　up。　Ah　guess　ah　can　kiss　mah　stripes　good…by。〃
　
　Pitt　looked　at　him。　〃I　know　of　no　Air　Force　regulations　that　prevent　an　enlisted　man　or　an　officer；　for　that　matter；　from　icking　up　a　few　dollars　when　he　isn't　on　duty。〃
　〃Nuthin'　wrong　with　Air　Force　rules；　Major。　It's　Keflavik　Base　policy　set　by　Colonel　Nagel；　the　C。O。　on　our　side　of　the　field。　He　feels　we　should　work　on　squadron　aircraft　during'　our　time　off　instead　of　helpin'　out　the　feather　merchants。　Tryin'　to　make　a　name　for　himself　with　the　Pentagon　brass；　ah　guess。　But　ya　wouldn't　be　here　if　you　didn't　know　all　that。〃
　〃That'll　do；〃　Pitt　said　sharply。　His　gaze　swung　left　and　right　until　it　came　back　to　the　Air　Force　mechanic　。　Then　his　eyes　grew　suddenly　cold。　〃When　you　talk　to　a　superior　officer；　Airman；　you　stamd　up。〃
　〃I　don't　have　to　kiss　your　ass；　Major。　You　ain't　got　no　uniform　on…〃　Two　seconds　was　all　it　took。　with　a　nonchalant　ease　Pitt　bent　over。　clasped　the　front　two　legs　of　the　mechanic's　chair　and　flipped　him　over　on　his　back　and　put　his　foot　over　the　man's　throat　in　one　deceptive　movement。　The　other　maintenance　men　stood　there　in　stunned　immobility　for　a　few　seconds。　Then　their　senses　returned　and　they　began　to　circle　Pitt　menacingly。
　〃Call　off　your　flunkies　or　I　break　your　neck；〃　Pitt　said；　grinning　pleasantly　into　the　fear…filled　eyes。
　
　The　mechanic；　unable　to　talk　with　the　heel　of　Pitts　shoe　pushing　against　his　windpipe；　gestured　wildly　with　both　hands。　The　men　stopped　and　moved　back　a　step；　retreating　not　so　much　from　their　friend's　muted　pleas　as　from　the　ice…cold　grin　on　Pitt's　face。
　〃That's　a　good　group；〃　Pitt　said。　He　turned　and　looked　down　at　the　helpless　mechanic　and　lifted　his　foot　just　enough　to　allow　his　prisoner　to　speak。　〃Now；　then；　name；　rank；　and　serial　number。　Let's　have　it！〃
　〃Sam　。　。　。　Sam　Cashman；〃　he　choked。　〃Sergeant。
　
　Air　Force　19385628。〃
　〃That　wasn't　so　bad；　now　was　it；　Sam？〃　Pitt　bent　and　helped　Cashman　to　his　feet。
　〃Ahim　sorry；　sir。　Ah　figured　that　as　long　as　ya　were　gonna　court…martial　me　anyway…〃
　〃You're　lousy　at　figuring　Pitt　interrupted。　〃Next　time　keep　your　mouth　shut。　You　admitted　guilt　when　you　didn't　have　to。〃
　〃Are　ya　still　gonna　bust　me？〃
　〃To　begin　with；　I　don't　give　a　rat's　ass　whether　you　moonlight　or　not。　Since　I'm　not　stationed　at　Keflavik　Air　Force　Base；　I　could　care　less　about　the　policieschicken　shit　as　they　are…of　your　Colonel　Nagel。　Therefore；　I　won't　be　the　one　to　bust　you。　All　I　want　is　the　answers　to　a　few　simple　questions。〃　Pitt　stared　Cashman　in　the　eye　and　smiled　warmly。　〃Now　how　about　it？　Will　you　help　me？〃
　
　The　expression　on　Cashman's　face　displayed　genuine　awe。　〃Christ　Almighty；　what　ah　wouldn't　give　to　serve　under　an　officer　like　you。〃　He　extended　his　hand。
　〃Ask　away；　Major。〃
　
　Pitt　returned　Cashman's　grip。　〃First　question：　do　you　usually　scratch　your　initials　in　the　equipment　you　repair？〃
　〃Yeah；　it's　kind　of　a　trademark；　ya　might　say。　Ah　do　good　work　an　ahim　proud　of　it。　Serves　a　purpose　too。　If　ah　work　on　the　hydraulic　system　of　an　aircraft　and　it　es　back　with　a　malfunction；　ah　know　the　trouble　lays　where　ah　didn't　work。　It　saves　a　lot　of　time。〃
　〃Have　you　ever　repaired　the　nose　gear　of　a　twelvepassenger　British　jet？〃
　
　Cashman　thought　for　a　moment。　〃Yeah；　about　a　month　ago。　One　of　those　new　executive　twin　turbine　Ulysses…a　hell　of　a　machine。〃
　〃Was　it　painted　black？〃
　〃Ah　couldn't　see　paint　markin's。　It　was　dark；　about　one…thirty　in　the　mornin'　when　ah　got　the　call。〃
　
　He　shook　his　head。　〃Wasn't　black；　though。　Ahim　positive。〃
　〃Any　distinguishing　features　or　anything　unusual　about　the　repair　that　you　can　recall？〃
　
　Cashman　laughed。　〃The　only　distinguishin'　features　were　the　two　weirdos　who　were　flyin'　it。〃　He　held　up　a　cup；　offering　Pitt　some　coffee。　Pitt　shook　his　head。
　〃Well；　these　guys　were　in　a　terrible　hurry。　Kept　standin'　around　tryin'　to　push　me。　Pissed　me　off　plenty。　Seems　they　made　a　rough　landin'　somewhere　and　busted　a　seal　in　the　shock　cylinder。　They　were　damned　lucky　that　ah　found　a　spare　over　at　the　B。O。A。C　hangars。〃
　〃Did　you　get　a　look　inside？〃
　〃Hell　no；　you'd　have　thought　they　had　the　President　on　board　the　way　they　guarded　the　loadin'　door。〃
　〃Any　idea　where　they　came　from　or　where　they　were　headed？〃
　〃No　way；　they　were　tightlipped　bastards。　Talked　about　nothin；　but　the　repair。　Must　have　been　on　a　local　flight　though。　They　didn't　refuel。　You　ain't　flyin'　far　in　a　Lorelei…not　from　Iceland　anyhow…without　full　tanks。〃
　〃The　pilot　must　have　signed　a　maintenance　order。〃
　〃Nope。　He　refused。　Said　He　was　behind　schedule　and　would　catch　me　next　time。　Paid　me　though。　Twice　what　the　job　was　worth。〃　Cashman　was　silent　for　a　moment。　He　tried　to　read　something　in　the　man　standing　before　him；　but　Pitts　face　was　as　impenetrable　as　a　granite　statue。　〃What's　behind　these　questions；　Major？
　
　Mind　lettin'　me　in　on　your　secret？〃
　〃No　secret；〃　Pitt　said　slowly。　〃A　Lorelei　crashed　a　couple　of　days　ago　and　nothing　except　a　portion　of　the　nose　gear　was　left　to　identify。　I'm　trying　to　trace　it；　that's　all。〃
　〃Wasn't　it　reported　as　missin'？〃
　〃I　wouldn't　be　here　if　it　was。〃
　〃Ah　knew　there　was　something　fishy　about　them　guys。　That's　why　ah　went　ahead　and　filled　out　a　maintenance　report。〃
　
　Pitt　leaned　over；　his　eyes　boring　into　Cashman's。
　〃What　good　was　a　report　if　you　couldn't　identify　the　aircraft？〃
　
　A　shrewd　smile　split　Cashman's　lips。　〃Ah　may　be　a　country　boy；　but　mah　momma　didn't　drop　me　outta　her　bottom　this　mornin'。〃　He　stood　up　and　tilted　his　head　toward　a　side　door。　〃Major；　ahim　gonna　make　your　day。〃
　
　He　led　Pitt　into　a　small　dingy　office　furnished　with　only　a　battered　desk　that　was　decorated　with　at　least　fifty　cigarette　burn　marks；　two　equally　battered　chairs　and　a　huge　metal　filing　cabinet。　Cashman　walked　straight　to　the　cabinet　and　pulled　out　a　drawer；　rummaged　for　a　moment；　found　what　he　was　looking　for　and　handed　Pitt　a　folder　soiled　with　greasy　fingerprints。
　〃Ah　wasn't　kidding'　ya；　Major；　when　ah　said　it　was　too　dark　to　make　out　any　paint　markin's。　Near　as　ah　could　tell；　the　plane　had　never　been　touch　by　a　brush　or　spraygun。　The　aluminum　skin　was　…；Is　shiny　as　the　day　it　let　the　factory。〃
　
　Pitt　opened　the　folder　and　scanned　the　maintenance　report。　Cashman's　handwritin　left　much　to　be　desired；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　the　notation　under　AIRCRAFT　IDENTIFICATION：　Lorelei　Mark　V111…B1608。
　〃How　did　you　get　it？〃　Pitt　asked。
　〃pliments　of　a　limey　inspector　at　the　Lorelei　factory；〃　Cashman　answered；　sitting　on　a　corner　of　the　desk。　〃After　replacin'　the　seal　on　the　nose　gear；　ah　took　a　flashlight　and　checked　out　the　main　landin'　gear　for　damage　or　leakage；　and　there　it　was；　stuck　away　under　the　right　strut　as　pretty　as　you　please。　A　green　tag　sayin'　that　this　here　aircraft's　landin'　gear　had　been　examined　and　okayed　by　master　inspector　Clarence　Devonshire　of　Lorelei　Aircraft　Limited。　The　plane's　serial　number　was　typed　on　the　tag。〃
　
　Pitt　threw　the　folder　on　the　desk。　〃Sergeant　Cashman！〃　he　snapped。
　
　Stunned　at　the　brusque　tone；　Cashman　jumped　erect。　〃Sir？〃
　〃Your　squadron！〃
　〃Eighty…seventh　Air　Transport　Squadron；　sir。〃
　〃Good　enough。〃　Pitts　cold　expression　slowly　worked　into　a　huge　grin　and　he　slapped　Cashman　on　the　shoulder。　〃You're　absolutely　right；　Sam。　You　truly　made　my　day。〃
　〃Wish　ah　could　say　the　same；〃　Cashman　sighed；　visibly　relieved；　〃but　that's　twice　in　the　last　ten　minutes　ya　scared　the　crap　outta　me。　Why'd　ya　want　mah　squadron？〃
　〃So　I'd　know　where　to　send　a　case　of　Jack　Daniel's。　I　take　it　you　enjoy　good　whiskey？〃
　
　A　look　of　wonder　suddenly　came　over　Cashman's　face。　〃By　gawd；　Major；　you're　sumthin'　else。　Ya　know　that？〃
　〃I　try。〃　Already　Pitt　was　plotting　how　to　explain　a　case　of　expensive　whiskey　on　his　expense　account。
　
　What　the　hell；　screw　Sandecker；　he　thought；　the　tab　was　worth　the　consequences。　Screw；　the　word　bounded　out　of　his　mind　and　caused　him　to　remember　something。　He　reached　inside　his　pocket。
　〃By　the　way；　have　you　ever　seen　this　before？〃　He　handed　Cashman