cussler.blueandgold- 第41节

　
　〃Cover…up？〃
　
　〃That's　right；〃　Martin　said　bitterly。　〃This　whole　crummy　deal　with　my　father　and　the　phony　crash。〃
　
　Austin　sensed　that　he'd　learn　more　by　saying　less。　〃Tell　me　what　you　know；〃　he　said。
　
　The　suggestion　was　hardly　necessary。　Martin　had　been　waiting　for　years　for　a　friendly　ear　to　listen　to　his　tale。
　
　〃Excuse　me；〃　he　said　with　a　deep　sigh。　〃This　stuff　has　been　building　up　for　a　long　time。〃　He　stood　and　paced　the　length　of　the　porch。　His　face　was　contorted　by　anguish。　He　took　several　deep　breaths　to　get　his　emotions　in　check。　Then　he　sat　on　the　railing；　arms　folded；　and　began　to　tell　his　story。
　
　〃My　father　died　in　1949。　According　to　my　mother；　he　was　testing　one　of　the　new　flying　wings。　There　were　bugs　in　the　de　sign；　and　they　were　always　tinkering　with　one　thing　or　another。　On　one　flight　the　plane　supposedly　rolled；　he　couldn't　get　it　under　control。　He　died　in　the　crash。　I　was　seven　years　old。〃
　
　〃It　must　have　been　devastating　for　you。〃　
　
　　〃I　was　pretty　young；〃　he　said　with　a　shrug；　〃and　the　whole　thing　was　exciting；　what　with　the　Air　Force　brass　and　the　president　sending　messages。　I　never　saw　my　father　much　anyway。　During　the　war　he　was　away　a　lot。〃　He　paused。　〃Actually；　it　really　hit　me　when　I　discovered　he　wasn't　dead。〃
　
　〃You're　saying　your　father　wasn't　killed　in　a　crash？〃
　
　〃He　looked　quite　healthy　when　I　saw　him　at　Arlington　Cemetery。〃
　
　〃You're　talking　about　seeing　him　in　the　coffin；　you　mean
　
　〃No。　He　was　watching　the　funeral　from　a　distance。〃
　
　Austin　scrutinized　Martin's　face；　not　sure　what　he　was　looking　for。
　
　Detecting　no　sign　of　dementia；　he　said；　〃I'd　like　to　hear　about　it。〃
　
　Martin　broke　out　into　a　broad　grin。　〃I've　been　waiting　more　than　forty　years　to　hear　somebody　say　those　words。〃　He　stared　into　space　as　if　he　could　see　the　scene　playing　out　on　an　invisible　screen。　〃I　still　remember　the　little　things。　It　was　in　the　spring；　and　robins　were　flitting　around。　I　can　recall　the　way　the　sun　reflected　off　the　buttons　on　the　Air　Force　uniforms；　the　smell　of　new…cut　grass　and　earth。　I　was　standing　by　the　casket；　next　to　my　mother；　holding　her　hand；　squirming　in　my　suit　because　it　was　so　hot　and　the　collar　was　tight。　The　minister　was　going　on　and　on　in　this　droning　voice。　Everyone　had　their　eyes　on　him。〃　He　took　a　deep　breath　as　his　memory　drifted　back　in　time。　〃I　saw　a　movement；　a　bird　maybe；　and　looked　beyond　the　crowd。　A　man　had　stepped　away　from　a　tree。　He　was　dressed　in　dark　clothes。　He　was　too　far　away　for　me　to　see　his　face；　but　there　was　no　mistaking　him。　My　father　had　a　funny　way　of　standing　on　one　leg；　kinda　crooked。　Old　football　injury。〃
　
　〃What　was　he　doing？〃
　
　〃Nothing。　He　just　stood　there。　I　knew　he　was　staring　at　me。　Then　he　raised　his　right　arm　a　little；　as　if　he　were　about　to　wave。　Two　men　came　up　beside　him。　They　talked。　It　looked　as　if　they　were　arguing。　Then　they　all　walked　away。　I　tried　to　get　my　mother's　attention；　but　she　shushed　me。〃　
　
　　〃You're　sure　it　wasn't　the　wishful　thinking　of　a　distraught　boy？〃
　
　〃Yes。　I　was　so　certain　that　after　the　funeral　I　told　my　mother　what　I　had　seen。　It　only　made　her　cry。　I'll　never　forget　those　tears。　I　never　brought　it　up　again。　She　was　young　enough　and　re　married。　My　stepfather　was　a　nice　guy。　He　was　successful　in　business；　and　they　had　a　good　life。　They　were　very　happy　for　many　years。〃　He　laughed。　〃I　was　my　father's　kid。　My　mother　tried　to　talk　me　out　of　flying；　but　I　became　a　pilot。　This　thing　has　burned　in　me　all　that　time。　I　made　inquiries　but　never　got　anywhere。　I　was　convinced　the　truth　would　never　e　out。　Then　you　show　up　and　start　asking　questions。〃
　
　〃What　do　you　know　about　your　father's　job？〃
　
　〃He　was　a　veteran　pilot。　He　was　hired　by　Avion　Corporation；　the　pany　Northrop　set　up　to　manufacture　flying　wings；　although　he　was　still　in　the　Air　Force。　Dad　had　several　close　calls。　The　wing　design　was　a　great　concept；　but　with　the　materials　and　the　know…how　at　the　time；　flying　the　prototypes　was　risky　business。　That's　why　nobody　was　surprised　when　his　plane　crashed。〃
　
　〃You　were　very　young；　but　do　you　remember　anything　he　said？〃
　
　〃Not　much。　My　mother　told　me　he　loved　to　fly　those　contraptions；　that　he　said　they　were　going　to　revolutionize　aviation。　He　seemed　quite　excited　about　his　assignments。　At　one　point　he　disappeared　for　a　period　of　weeks。　No　munication；　no　con　tact　except　in　the　direst　emergency。　Mom　said　that　when　he　came　home　she　said　something　about　his　sunburn。　He　laughed　and　said　it　was　more　like　snow　burn；　but　he　never　explained　what　he　meant。〃
　
　〃Did　he　leave　any　papers；　a　journal　or　diary？〃
　
　〃Nothing　I　know　of。　I　remember　after　he　died　that　a　bunch　of　Air　Force　people　came　to　the　house。　They　might　have　taken　whatever　he　had　written。　Does　any　of　this　help？〃
　
　Austin　thought　about　his　conversation　with　Fred　Miller　at　Garber；　particularly　the　mention　of　early　stealth　aircraft　technology。　〃My　guess　is　that　your　father　was　training　for　a　secret　mission　in　the　north。〃　〃That　was　fifty　years　ago。　Why　still　keep　it　secret？〃
　
　〃Secrets　have　a　way　of　justifying　themselves　beyond　the　point　of　necessity。〃
　
　Miller　looked　out　over　the　shady　yard。　〃The　worst　thing　is　knowing　that　my　father　could　have　been　alive　all　those　years。〃　He　turned　back　to　Austin。　〃Maybe　he's　still　alive。　He'd　be　in　his　eighties。〃
　
　〃It's　possible。　It　also　means　that　there　might　be　someone　out　there　who　knows　the　real　story。〃
　
　〃I'd　like　the　truth　to　e　out；　Mr。　Austin。　Can　you　help　me？〃
　
　〃I'll　do　what　I　can。〃
　
　They　talked　further。　Before　parting　they　exchanged　phone　numbers。　Austin　vowed　he　would　call　if　he　learned　anything。　He　started　back　for　Washington。　Like　any　good　detective　he　had　knocked　on　doors　and　used　up　some　shoe　leather；　but　this　puzzle　was　too　old；　too　plex　for　ordinary　methods。　It　was　time　to　see　NUMA's　puter　whiz；　Hiram　Yaeger。
　
　Chapter　19
　The　Indian　village　was　a　marvel　of　city　planning。　Strolling　along　the　network　of　hard…packed　earthen　paths　that　connected　the　thatched　huts；　the　Trouts　could　almost　forget　that　their　entourage　included　a　mysterious　and　beautiful　white　goddess　in　a　jaguar…skin　bikini　and　a　silent　escort　of　six　armed　Chulo　Indians　painted　the　color　of　an　executive　jet。
　
　Francesca　led　the　procession。　The　warriors；　three　on　either　side；　kept　pace　a　respectable　spear's　length　away。　Francesca　stopped　near　the　big　well　in　the　village　center。　Indian　women　were　filling　pots　with　water　while　gangs　of　naked　children　happily　chased　each　other　around　their　mothers'　legs。　Francesca　beamed　with　obvious　pride。
　
　〃Every　improvement　you　see　here　is　part　of　an　integrated　scheme；〃　she　said　with　a　sweep　of　her　hands。　〃I　planned　the　project　as　if　I　were　building　a　new　infrastructure　for　Sao　Paulo。　I　worked　for　months　before　one　spadeful　of　earth　was　turned；　putting　everything　in　place；　right　down　to　the　allocation　of　capital；　sources　of　supply；　and　labor。　I　had　to　establish　a　subsidiary　to　manufacture　the　specialized　tools　that　would　be　needed　to　produce　wooden　pipe；　valves；　and　fittings。　At　the　same　time　it　was　necessary　to　keep　the　village　functioning　without　interrupting　hunting　and　harvesting。〃
　
　〃Remarkable；〃　Gamay　said；　looking　around　at　the　neatly　ordered　huts。　She　couldn't　help　paring　the　village　with　the　
　squalor　of　Dieter's　empire　or　the　relatively　civilized　settlement　where　Dr。　Ramirez　had　his　house。　〃Absolutely　remarkable；〃　Gamay　repeated。
　
　〃Thank　you；　but　once　I　had　the　preparations　in　place　it　wasn't　as　difficult　as　it　looks。　The　key　was　water　flow。　It's　just　as　essential　to　life　and　living　here　as　it　is　back　in　the　so…called　civilized　world。　I　assigned　digging　crews　to　divert　the　river。　We　had　the　same　problems　as　any　project。　The　shovel　makers　plained　that　we　were　pushing　them　too　hard　and　that　quality　was　suffering。〃　She　laughed。　〃It　was　exhilarating。　We　made　a　canal　to　open　a　tributary　from　the　lake。　Once　we　established　the　water　supply；　it　was　a　simple　matter　to　divert　it　to　the　public　wells。　The　gristmill　was　basic　time…proven　technology。〃
　
　〃The　water　wheel　is　as　good　as　anything　I've　seen　in　the　old　industrial　towns　in　New　England；〃　Paul　sai