cc.iceberg-第35节

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hority　between　Buenos　Aires　and　Goose　Bay　and　found　twelve　that　recorded　the　entry　and　departure　of　an　Icelandic　fishing　trawler　matching　the　remodeled　Lax。　What　he　should　have　said　was　that　he　had　them　checked。　Someone　else　did　the　actual　work　for　him　and　that　someone　was　the　N。I。A。〃
　〃Nothing　out　of　the　ordinary　in　that；〃　Lillie　said　flatly。　〃Records　are　sometimes　easier　for　us　to　obtain　than　a　government　agency　concerned　with　marine　life。〃
　〃Except　you　already　had　the　information　before　Sandecker　requested　it。〃
　
　Lillie　said　nothing。　He　didn't　have　to。　His　grim　expression　was　all　the　motivation　Pitt　needed　to　continue。
　〃One　evening　a　couple　of　months　ago；　I　ran　into　an　Army　munications　officer　in　a　bar。　It　was　a　slow　night　and　neither　of　us　felt　like　partying　or　chasing　girls；　so　we　just　sat　around　and　drank　together　until　closing　time。　He　had　just　finished　a　tour　of　duty　at　the　Smytheford　radio…munications　station　on　Hudson　Bay；　Canada…a　plex　of　two　hundred　radio　masts　forming　a　huge　dish　on　a　thousand…acre　site。　Don't　ask　me　what　his　name　and　rank　were　so　you　can　turn　him　in　for　divulging　military　secrets。　I've　forgotten　them　anyway。〃
　
　Pitt　hesitated　a　moment　to　shift　his　feet　to　a　more　fortable　position　before　he　went　on。
　〃He　was　proud　of　the　installation；　especially　so　since　he　was　one　of　the　engineers　who　helped　design　and　construct　it。　The　sophisticated　equipment；　he　said；　was　capable　of　electronically　monitoring　every　radio　transmission　north　of　New　York；　London　and　Moscow　After　the　installation　was　pleted；　he　and　his　crew　of　Army　engineers　were　politely　ordered　to　leave　for　duty　elsewhere。　It's　only　guesswork　on　his　part；　of　course；　but　he　was　certain　that　it's　currently　being　operated　by　the　National　Intelligence　Agency　which　specializes　in　undercover　eavesdropping　on　behalf　of　the　Department　of　Defense　and　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency。　A　rather　interesting　assumption　when　you　consider　that　Smytheford　is　advertised　as　a　satellite　tracking　station。〃
　
　Lillie　leaned　forward。　〃Just　where　is　all　this　leading　to？〃
　〃To　two　gentlemen　named　Matajic　and　O'Riley。
　
　Both　deceased。〃
　〃You　think　I　knew　them？〃　Lillie　asked　curiously。
　〃Only　by　name。　I　see　little　reason　to　explain　who　they　were。　You　already　know。　Your　people　at　Smytheford　monitored　Matajic's　message　to　Sandecker　identic　lying　the　long…lost　Lax。　It　must　have　meant　little　to　your　intelligence　analysts　at　the　time；　but　their　electronic　ears　undoubtedly　pricked　up　when　they　received　the　pilot's　last　message　seconds　before　the　black　jet　blasted　all　three　men　into　the　sea。　At　this　point；　the　plot　thickens。
　
　Admiral　Sandecker　played　it　cagy　and　handed　the　Coast　Guard　a　phony　story　about　missing　equipment；　requesting　air…sea　search　in　the　area　NUMA's　plane　disappeared。　Nothing　was　found　。　。　。　or　at　least　nothing　was　reported。　The　Coast　Guard　struck　out；　but　the　N。I。A。　didn't…they　had　the　Lax　and　its　mysterious　crew　pinpointed　right　from　the　start。　Every　time　the　ship　radioed　its　home　base　in　Iceland；　the　Smytheford　puters　plotted　its　exact　position。　Now　the　experts　at　your　headquarters　in　Washington　began　to　smell　a　connection　between　the　lost　undersea　probe　and　the　mining　operations　takeover　in　South　America；　so　they　backtracked　and　traced　the　ship's　movements　up　and　down　the　Atlantic　Coast。　When　Sandecker　asked　for　the　same　information；　they　discreetly　waited　a　few　days　and　then；　fighting　to　keep　a　straight　face；　handed　him　a　previously　prepared　copy。〃
　〃This？〃
　〃Do　you　honestly　expect　me　to　admit　to　any　of…〃
　〃I　don't　much　give　a　damn　what　you　admit　to；〃　Pitt　said　wearily。　〃I'm　merely　pointing　out　a　few　facts　of　life。　Put　them　all　together　and　they　spell　the　name　of　the　man　you　have　under　surveillance　here　in　Iceland。〃
　〃How　do　you　know　it　isn't　a　woman？〃　Lillie　probed。
　〃Because　you've　reached　the　same　conclusions　I　have…Kirsti　Fyrie　may　control　Fyrie　Limited；　but　Oskar　Rondheim　controls　Kirsti　Fyrie。〃
　〃So　we're　back　to　Rondheim。〃
　〃Did　we　really　ever　leave？〃
　〃Clever；　clever　deduction；　Major　Pitt；〃　Lillie　murmured。
　〃Care　to　fill　in　any　gaps？〃
　〃Until　I　receive　orders　to　the　contrary；　I　can't　fully　brief　an　outsider　on　all　the　details　of　our　operation。〃　Lillie's　voice　carried　an　official　tone　that　didn't　quite　e　off。　〃I　can；　however；　acknowledge　your　conclusions。　You　are　quite　correct　in　everything　you've　said。　Yes；　the　N。I。A。　picked　up　Matajic's　message。　Yes；　we　tracked　the　Lax。　Yes；　we　feel　Rondheim　is　in　some　way　connected　with　the　mining　syndicate。　Beyond　that　there　is　little　I　can　officially　tell　you　that　you　don't　already　know。〃
　〃Since　we've　bee　such　close　friends；〃　Pitt　said；　grinning；　〃why　don't　you　call　me　Dirk？〃
　
　Lillie　was　gracious　in　defeat。　〃Have　it　your　way。
　
　But　don't　you　dare　call　me　Jerome…it's　Jerry。〃　He　held　out　his　hand。　〃Okay；　partner。　Don't　make　me　sorry　I　took　you　into　the　firm。〃
　
　Pitt　returned　the　grip。　〃Stick　with　the　kid　here　and　you'll　go　places。〃
　〃That's　what　I'm　afraid　of。〃　Lillie　sighed　and　gazed　over　the　barren　countryside　for　a　moment　as　if　weighing　the　turn　of　events。　Finally　he　broke　his　thoughts　and　looked　at　his　watch。　〃We'd　better　head　back　to　Reykjavik。　No　thanks　to　you；　I've　got　a　busy　night　ahead　of　me。〃
　〃What's　on　your　agenda？〃
　〃First；　I　want　to　contact　headquarters　as　soon　as　possible　and　pass　on　the　serial　number　of　the　black　jet。
　
　With　a　bit　of　luck　they　should　be　able　to　run　a　make　and　have　the　owner's　name　back　to　us　by　morning。　For　your　sake；　after　all　the　trouble　you　went　to；　I　hope　it　provides　an　important　lead。　Second；　I'm　going　to　poke　around　and　see　where　that　hydroplane　was　moored。
　
　Somebody　has　got　to　know　something。　You　can't　keep　a　craft　like　that　a　secret　on　an　island　this　small。　And　third；　the　two　scaled　replicas　of　South　American　capitol　buildings。　I'm　afraid　you　threw　us　a　weird　twist　when　you　fished　them　from　the　briny　deep。　They　must　have　a　functional　purpose。　They　may　be　vital　to　whoever　built　them；　or　they　may　not。　Just　to　play　safe；　I'd　better　request　Washington　to　fly　in　an　expert　on　miniatures　and　have　every　square　inch　of　those　models　thoroughly　examined。〃
　〃Efficient；　industrious；　professional。　Keep　it　up。　I　may　slowly　bee　impressed。〃
　〃I'll　try　to　do　my　best。〃　Lillie　said　sarcastically。
　〃Would　you　like　an　extra　hand？〃　Pitt　asked。　〃I'm　free　for　the　evening。〃
　
　Lillie　smiled　a　smile　that　made　Pitt　feel　a　twinge　of　uneasiness。　〃Your　plans　are　already　made；　Dirk。　I　wish　I　could　trade　places　with　you；　but　duty　calls。〃
　〃I'm　afraid　to　ask　what's　on　your　nasty　little　mind；〃　Pitt　said　dryly。
　〃A　party；　you　lucky　dog。　You're　going　to　a　poetry　reading　party。〃
　〃You've　got　to　be　kidding。〃
　〃No；　I'm　serious。　By　special　invitation　from　Oskar　Rondheim　himself。　Though　I　suspect　it　was　Miss　Fyrie's　idea。〃
　
　Pitts　eyebrows　came　together　over　his　penetrating　green　eyes。　〃How　do　you　know　this？　How　could　you　know　this？　No　invitation　arrived　before　you　picked　me　up　at　the　consulate。〃
　〃A　trade　secret。　We　do　manage　to　pull　a　rabbit　out　of　the　hat　occasionally。〃
　〃Okay；　I'll　concede　a　point　and　stick　a　gold　star　on　your　chart　for　the　day。〃　It　was　beginning　to　get　chilly　so　Pitt　rolled　up　his　window。　〃A　poetry　reading；〃　he　said　disgustedly。　〃God；　that　ought　to　be　a　winner。〃
　
　Chapter　13
　
　It　is　debated　among　Icelanders　whether　the　great　house；　sprawling　over　the　crest　of　the　highest　hill　above　Reykjavik；　is　even　more　elegant　than　the　President's　mansion　at　Bessastadir。　This　could　be　argued　until　both　structures　crumbled　to　dust；　mostly　because　there　is　no　real　case　for　parison。　The　President　of　Iceland's　residence　is　a　model　of　classic　simplicity；　while　Oskar　Rondheim's　modern　edifice　looked　as　if　it　had　been　spawned　by　the　unleashed　imagination　of　Frank　Lloyd　Wright。
　
　The　entire　block　in　front　of　the　ornate　grille　doors　was　lined　with　limousines　representing　every　expensive　auto　manufacturer　of　every　country：　Rous…Royce；　Lincoln；　Mercedes…Benz；　Cadillac。　Even　a　Russian…built　Zis　stood　temporarily　in　the　circular　driveway；　unloading　its　cargo　of　formally　dressed　passengers。
　
　Beyond　the　entryway；　eighty　to　ninety　guests　drifted　in　and　out　of　the　mairl　salon　and　the　terrace；　conversing　in　a　spectrum　of　different　languages。　The　sun；　which　had　been　hidden　off　and　on　by　a　stray　cloud；　shone　brightly　through　the　windows　even　though　it　was　just　past　nine　o'clock　in　the　evening。　At　the　far　end　of　the　great　salon；　Kirsti　Fyrie　and　Oskar　Rondheim　anchored　the　receining　line　under　a　massive　crest　bearing　the　red　albatross　and　greeted　each　arriving　guest。
　
　Kirsti　was　radiantly　beautiful；　gowned　in　white　silk　with　gold　trim；　her　blond　hair　elegantly　wound　Grecian　style。　Rondheim；　tall　and　hawklike；　towered　beside　her；　his　thin　lips　cracking　in　a　smile　only　when　politeness　required。　He　was　just　greeting　the　Russian　guests　and　smartly　steering　them　toward　a　long　table　set　with　even　rows　of　caviar　and　salmon　and　embellished　by　a　huge　silver　punch　bowl；　when　his　eyes　widened　a　fraction　and　the　forced　smile　froze。　Kirsti　stiffened　suddenly　as　the　murmur　of　the　guests　died　to　a　strange　stillness。
　
　Pitt　swept　into　the　room　with　all　the　flourish　of　a　matinee　idol　whose　grandiose　entr