alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第29部分

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me；　bad　radiator　trouble。　Over。〃
　
　〃We　have　made　only　eight　miles　since　noon。　It　seems…〃
　
　I　threw　the　switch　over。
　
　〃Eight　miles？〃　I　demanded　harshly。　〃Did　I　hear　you　say　eight　miles？〃
　
　〃You　heard。〃　Hillcrest's　voice　was　savage。　〃Remember　the　missing　sugar？　Well；　it's　turned　up。　Your　fine　friends　dumped　the　whole　bloody　lot　into　the　petrol。　We're　pletely　immobilised。〃
　
　
　CHAPTER　NINE…Wednesday　8　P。M。…Thursday　4　P。M。
　
　We　were　on　our　way　again　just　after　nine　o'clock　that　night。　It　had　been　my　original　intention；　by　dreaming　up　a　variety　of　excuses　and　even；　if　necessary；　by　sabotaging　the　engine；　to　stay　there　for　several　hours　or　at　least　what　I　reckoned　to　be　the　longest　possible　time　before　the　killers　became　restive；　suspected　that　I　was　deliberately　stalling；　and　took　over。　Or　tried　to　take　over。　For　it　had　been　my　further　intention　that；　after　an　hour　or　two；　Jackstraw　should　produce　his　rifle…it　was　strapped　to　his　shoulders　night　and　day…and　I　my　automatic；　and　hold　them　all　at　the　point　of　the　gun　until　Hillcrest　came　up。　If　all　had　gone　well；　he　should　have　been　with　us　by　midnight。　Our　troubles　would　have　been　over。
　
　But　it　had　not　gone　well；　our　troubles　were　as　bad　as　ever；　the　Sno…Cat　was　bogged　down　and　with　Mahler　now　seriously　ill　and　Marie　LeGarde　frighteningly　weak　and　exhausted；　I　couldn't　remain　any　longer。　Had　I　been　made　of　tougher　stuff；　or　even　had　I　not　been　a　doctor；　I　might　have　brought　myself　to　recognise　that　both　Marie　LeGarde　and　Theodore　Mahler　were　expendable　pawns　in　a　game　where　the　stakes；　I　was　now　certain；　were　far　greater　than　just　the　lives　of　one　or　two　people。　I　might　have　held　everybody…or　the　major　suspects；　at　least…at　gunpoint　until　such　time；　twenty…four　hours　if　need　be；　as　Hillcrest　did　e　up。　But　I　could　not　bring　myself　to　regard　our　sick　passengers　as　expendable　pawns。　A　weakness；　no　doubt；　but　one　that　I　was　almost　proud　to　share　with　Jackstraw；　who　felt　exactly　as　I　did。
　
　That　Hillcrest　would　e　up　eventually　I　felt　pretty　sure。　The　dumping　of　the　sugar　in　the　petrol…I　bit　my　lips　in　chagrin　whenever　I　remembered　that　it　had　been　I　who　had　told　them　all　that　Hillcrest　was　running　short　of　fuel…had　been　a　brilliant　move；　but　nothing　more；　now；　than　I　had　e　to　expect　of　men　who　thought　of　everything；　made　every　possible　provision　against　future　eventualities。　Still；　even　though　furiously　angry　at　the　delay；　Hillcrest　had　thought　he　could　cope　with　the　situation。　The　big　cabin　of　the　Sno…Cat　was　equipped　with　a　regular　workshop　with　tools　fit　to　deal　with　just　about　every　mechanical　breakdown；　and　already　his　driver…mechanic…1　didn't　envy　him　his　murderous　task　even　though　he　was　reportedly　working　behind　heated　canvas　aprons…had　stripped　down　the　engine　and　was　cleaning　pistons；　cylinder　walls　and　valves　of　the　unburnt　carbon　deposits　that　had　finally　ground　the　big　tractor　to　a　halt。　A　couple　of　others　had　rigged　up　a　makeshift　distillation　unit…a　petrol　drum；　almost　full；　with　a　thin　metal　tube　packed　in　ice　leading　from　its　top　to　an　empty　drum。　Petrol；　Hillcrest　had　explained；　had　a　lower　boiling　point　than　sugar；　and　when　the　drum　was　heated　the　evaporating　gas；　which　would　cool　in　the　ice…packed　tube；　should　emerge　as　pure　petrol。
　
　Such；　at　least；　was　the　theory；　although　Hillcrest　didn't　seem　absolutely　sure　of　himself。　He　had　asked　if　we　had　any　suggestion；　whether　we　could　help　him　in　any　way　at　all；　but　I　had　said　we　couldn't。　I　was　tragically；　unforgivably　wrong。　I　could　have　helped；　for　I　knew　something　that　no　one　else　did；　but；　at　the　moment；　I　pletely　forgot　it。　And　because　I　forgot；　nothing　could　now　avert　the　tragedy　that　was　to　e；　or　save　the　lives　of　those　who　were　about　to　die。
　
　My　thoughts　were　black　and　bitter　as　the　tractor　roared　and　lurched　and　clattered　its　way　south…west　by　west　under　the　deepening　darkness　of　a　sky　that　was　slowly　beginning　to　fill　with　cloud。　A　dark　depression　filled　me；　and　a　cold　rage；　and　there　was　room　in　my　mind　for　both。　I　had　a　strange　fey　sense　of　impending　disaster；　and　though　I　was　doctor　enough　to　know　that　it　was　almost　certainly　a　psychologically　induced　reaction　to　the　cold；　exhaustion；　sleeplessness　and　hunger…and　a　physical　reaction　to　the　blow　on　the　head…nevertheless　I　could　not　shake　it　off：　and　I　was　angry　because　I　was　helpless。
　
　I　was　helpless　to　do　anything　to　protect　any　of　the　innocent　people　with　me；　the　people　who　had　entrusted　themselves　to　my　care；　the　sick　Mahler　and　Marie　LeGarde；　the　quiet　young　German　girl；　the　grave…faced　Margaret　Ross…above　all；　I　had　to　admit　to　myself；　Margaret　Ross：　I　was　helpless　because　I　knew　the　murderers　might　strike　at　any　time；　for　all　I　knew　they　might　believe　that　Hillcrest　had　already　told　me　all　I　needed　to　know　ana　that　I　was　just　waiting　my　chance　to　catch　them　pletely　off　guard；　on　the　other　hand　they；　too；　were　almost　certainly　just　biding　their　time；　not　knowing　how　much　I　knew；　but　just　taking　a　calculated　gamble；　letting　things　ride　as　long　as　the　tractor　kept　moving；　kept　heading　in　the　right　direction；　but　prepared　to　strike　once　and　for　all　when　the　time　came：　and；　above　all；　I　was　helpless　because　I　still　had　no　definite　idea　as　to　who　the　killers　were。
　
　For　the　hundredth　time　I　went　over　everything　I　could　remember；　everything　that　had　happened；　everything　that　had　been　said；　trying　to　dredge　up　from　the　depths　of　memory　one　single　fact；　one　isolated　word　that　would　point　the　finger　in　one　unmistakable　direction。　But　I　found　nothing。
　
　Of　the　ten　passengers　Jackstraw　and　I　had　with　us；　six　of　them；　I　felt　certain；　were　almost　beyond　suspicion。　Margaret　Ross　and　Marie　LeGarde　were　pletely　beyond　it。　The　only　things　that　could　be　said　against　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg　and　Helene　was　that　I　hadn't　absolute　proof　of　their　innocence；　but　I　was　certain　that　such　proof　was　quite　unnecessary。　United　States　senators；　as　recent　bribery　and　corruption　cases　had　lamentably　shown；　had　as　many　human　failings…especially　cupidity…as　the　next　man：　but；　even　so；　the　idea　of　a　senator　getting　mixed　up　with　murder　and　criminal　activities　on　this　massive　scale　was　too　preposterous　to　bear　further　examination。　As　for　Mahler；　I　was　quite　aware　that　being　a　diabetic　didn't　bar　a　man　from　criminal　pursuits；　and　he　could　have　been　one　of　the　guilty　men…just　possibly；　he　had　thought　they　would　force…land　near　some　easily　available　insulin　supplies。　But　that　was　just　a　little　too　far…fetched；　and　even　if　it　weren't；　I　wasn't　seriously　interested　in　Mahler。　I　was　concerned　with　killers　who　might　kill　again　at　any　moment；　and　he　most　certainly　wasn't　included　in　that　category：　Mahler　was　a　dying　man。
　
　That　left　only　Zagero；　Solly　Levin；　Corazzini　and　the　Rev。　Smallwood；　and　the　Rev。　Smallwood　was　too　good　notto　be　true。　The　Bible　was　hardly　ever　out　of　his　hands　these　days：　there　were　certain　lengths　to　which　any　impostor　might　reasonably　be　expected　to　go　to　convince　us　of　his　identity；　but　lengths　such　as　these　passed　the　bounds　of　the　superfluous　into　the　realms　of　the　ridiculous。
　
　I　had　reason　to　suspect　Corazzini。　As　a　tractor　specialist；　he　knew　precious　little　about　tractors…although　I　had　to　be　fair　and　admit　that　Citroen　and　Global　tractors　were　a　quarter　of　a　century　different　in　time　and　a　world　different　in　design。　But　he　had　been　the　only　person　I　had　found　on　his　feet　when　I　had　opened　the　door　of　the　passenger　cabin　in　the　plane。　It　was　he　who；　back　in　the　IGY　cabin；　had　questioned　me　so　closely　about　Hillcrest's　movements。　It　was　he；　I　had　learnt；　who　had　helped　Jackstraw　and　Zagero　bring　up　the　petrol　from　the　tunnel　and　so　had　the　opportunity　to　spike　the　stuff　left　behind。　Finally；　I　believed　he　could　be　utterly　ruthless。　But　there　was　one　great　point　in　his　favour：　that　still…bandaged　hand；　token　of　his　desperate　attempt　to　save　the　falling　radio。
　
　I　had　far　greater　reason　to　suspect　Zagero；　and；　by　implication　of　friendship；　Solly　Levin。　Zagero　had　inquired　of　Margaret　Ross　when　dinner　was：　a　damning　point。　Solly　Levin　had　been　nearest　the　radio；　and　in　the　right　position　for　doing　the　damage　when　it　had　been　destroyed：　another　damning　point。　Zagero　had　been　one　of　those　working　with　the　petrol。　And；　most　damning　of　all；　Zagero　bore　no　more　resemblance　to　a　boxer　than　Levin　did　to　any　boxing　manager　who　had　ever　lived　outside　the　pages　of　Damon　Runyon。　And；　as　a　further　negative　mark　against　Zagero；　I　had　Margaret　Ross's　word　that　Corazzini　had　never　left　his　seat　in　the　plane。　That　didn't；　of　course；　necessarily　exclude　Corazzini；　he　could　well　have　had　an　acplice。　But　who　could　that　acplice　be？
　
　It　was　not　until　then　that　the　chilling；　frightening　thought　struck　me　that；　because　two　guns　had　been　used　in　the　plane；　I　had　assumed　all　along　that　there　were　only　two　criminals。　There　wasn't　a　shadow　of　evidence　to　suggest　why　there　should　not　be　more　than　two：　why　not　three？　Why　not　Corazzini；　Zagero　and　Levin　all　in　the　conspiracy　together？　I　thought　over　the　implications　of　this　for　some　minutes；　and　at　the　end　I　felt　more　helpless　than　ever；　more　weirdly　certain　of　ultimate　tragedy　to　e。　Forcibly；　almost；　I　had　to　remind　myself　that　all　three　were　not　necessarily　working　together；　but　it　was　a　possibility　that　had　to　be　faced。
　
　About　three　o'clock　in　the　morning；　still　following　the　flag　trail　that　stretched　out　interminably　before　us　in　the　long　rake　of　the　headlights；　we　felt　the　tractor　slow　down　and　Jackstraw；　who　was　driving　at　the　time；　change　gear　as　we　entered　on　the　first　gentle　slope　of　the　long　foothills　that　led　to　the　winding　pass　that　cut　the　Vindeby　Nunataks　almost　exactly　in　half。　We　could　have　gone　round　the　Nunataks；　but　that　would　have　wasted　an　entire　day；　perhaps　two；　and　with　the　ten…mile　route　through　the　hills　clearly　marked；　it　was　pointless　to　make　a　detour。
　
　Two　hours　later；　as　the　incline　perceptibly　steepened；　the　tractor　treads　began　to　slip　and　spin　on　the　frozen　snow；　but　by　off…loading　almost　all　the　petrol　and　gear　we　carried　on　the　tractor　sled　and　stowing　it　inside　the　tractor　cabin；　we　managed　to　build　up　enough　weight　to　gain　a　purchase　on　the　surface。　Even　so；　progress　was　slow　and　difficult。　We　could　only　make　ground　by　following　a　zigzag　pattern；　and　it　took　us　well　over　an　hour　to　cover　the　last　mile　before　the　entrance　to　the　pass。　Here　we　halted；　soon　after　seven　o'clock　in　the　morning。　The　pass　was　lined　on　one　side　by　a　deep　crevasse　in　the　ice　that　ran　its　entire　length；　and　although　not　particularly　treacherous　the　trail　was　difficult　and　dangerous　enough　to　make　me　determined　to　wait　for　the　two　or　three　brief　hours'　light　at　the　middle　of　the　day。
　
　While　breakfast　was　being　prepared；　I　looked　at　Mahler　and　Marie　LeGarde。　The　steady　rise　in　temperature…it　was　now　less　than　…SOT…had　done　nothing　to　help　either　of　them。　Marie　LeGarde　looked　as　if　she　hadn't　eaten　in　weeks；　her　face；　pock…marked　with　sores　and　frostbite　blisters；　was　appallingly　thin　and　wasted；　and　the　once　sparkling　eyes　lack…lustre；　pouched　and　filled　and　rimmed　with　blood。　She　hadn't　spoken　a　word　in　ten　hours；　just　sat　there；　in　her　increasingly　rare　moments　of　waking；　shivering　and　staring　ahead　with　sightless　eyes。　Theodore　Mahler　looked　in　better　case　tha