Zero Hour - Cussler Clive - Страница 16

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Joe’s plan was in full bloom now. He’d set up a pulley system, running the cable from the front of the last Jeep, around the tubular steel brush guard on one of the SUVs, and attached it to the tail end of another SUV.

His plan was simple: push the hooked vehicle into the water and over the edge. As it dropped, the cable would drag the Jeep forward rapidly enough for Joe to pop the clutch and get the engine going.

Ready to go, he checked on Bradshaw once more, crossed his fingers, and moved to the SUV he was using as a deadweight. He couldn’t open the windows without power, so he smashed them in. He opened all the doors and the tailgate and even popped the hood. Anything to let air out and water in to help the SUV sink faster.

He put the transmission in neutral, released the brake, and then hopped out. Digging his feet hard into the sand, Joe began pushing. Little by little, the SUV began to move, its pace quickened as it reached the firmer soil at the water’s edge. With a last great shove, Joe pushed it off and stepped back, almost losing his balance and tumbling into the toxic soup.

The SUV rolled out and began to fill with water. It nosed over just like the first vehicle had, then stopped as the wire cable pulled taut.

Joe ran back to the Jeep and hopped in. He made sure the key was turned and released the brakes. It began to move forward, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as the sinking SUV pulled on the cable.

Joe waited as long as he could and then popped the clutch.

The engine surged, stuttered, and then fired up. He pressed in the clutch and held it as he hit the brakes. The Jeep stopped a few feet shy of ramming the pulley vehicle.

Foot still on the clutch, he gave the Jeep some gas, revving the engine. After a few seconds, it began to hum nicely, and when he finally let off the gas, it went into a steady idle. With the parking brake firmly set, Joe got out and moved to the winch at the front of the Jeep.

He put a hand on the release lever and yanked it downward. The jaws of the drum parted, releasing the metal cord. It flung forward under great tension and whiplashed across the pulley car, shattering the windshield, before sliding across the sand and following the sinking SUV down into the lake.

Joe gave a salute to the departing vehicle and climbed back into the Jeep. He put the radio on the charger and watched as the red light lit up.

He glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. “You’re good, Zavala,” he said to himself. “You’re very good.”

Guessing it would take several minutes for the radio to store up enough power to be useful, Joe decided to check on his patient.

He jumped out of the idling Jeep and moved quickly to where Bradshaw lay. The man was unconscious, but he was still breathing.

“Hang in there,” Joe whispered.

Out on the lake, the water began to stir. A slight bulge was forming near the center, halfway between the shore and the floating truck. Something was moving beneath the surface, like a killer whale charging the beach.

For a second, Joe hoped it might be Kurt in the speeder. But the object broke through and revealed itself as a twenty-foot-long submersible with a wide, rubber-skirted bottom. The reason for that design became clear seconds later as the sub rose up out of the water and began racing across the surface, leaving a wide swath of foam beneath and behind it.

“A submersible-hovercraft,” Joe marveled. “That’s even better than a truck that swims.”

For twenty seconds, the hovercraft traveled northward along the surface, then it turned slightly to the east, raced out of the water on the far side of the pit and up onto the ramp.

Joe realized he was witnessing the group who’d ambushed the ASIO making their escape.

“I don’t think so,” he said. He rushed to the idling Jeep and climbed in. He paused for a second, considering Bradshaw. There was nothing he could do for him. But as soon as the radio was charged, he’d call for help.

He jammed the transmission into gear and stomped on the gas pedal. The tires spun in the gravel as he tore off after the fleeing hovercraft.

Down in the empty station, Kurt continued to look for Hayley. He climbed and checked two additional levels as quickly as he could before finally pushing through the uppermost hatch and coming out in some kind of control room.

In the far corner, two figures sat bound and gagged on the floor. Kurt ran over to them and pulled the gag off Hayley’s mouth.

“Explosives,” she blurted out, not even uttering a hello. “Under the panel.”

Kurt cut her loose and left her with the knife as he rushed to the panel and slid beneath it. He found the blocks of plastic explosives and the timer. It read 01:07 and was counting down by the second.

He took out the wire cutters as Hayley freed the guy beside her. He was about to snip one of the wires when they rushed up behind him, crowding him more than he would have liked.

“Either of you know anything about explosives?” he asked.

They shook their heads.

“We should get out of here,” Hayley said, gulping.

The clock hit 00:59. They had less than a minute. Kurt shook his head. “We’ll never make it.”

The guy from the ASIO reached for the timer. Kurt slapped his hand. “Press the wrong button and you’ll blow us to bits.”

He pointed. A tiny lock symbol was illuminated at the top of the screen. If Kurt was right, they would need to enter a code to stop the countdown.

“We can’t just sit here,” the guy said.

“Forty seconds,” Hayley mentioned.

Kurt studied the detonator. It was a standard industrial design, not a bombmaker’s toy. He’d used similar devices scuttling a few ships. If he was right, it should fail-safe instead of fail-deadly. It was connected to two wires, red and blue.

“Thirty seconds.”

The ASIO guy bumped Kurt, trying to get a better look.

“What’s your name?” Kurt asked.

“Wiggins.”

“Back up, Wiggins,” Kurt said.

“Twenty seconds,” Hayley said stressfully.

“What good will that do?” Wiggins asked.

“It will get you out of my space.”

They eased off of him a bit, and Kurt opened the wire strippers as wide as possible.

“Ten seconds,” Hayley said. “Nine… eight…”

Kurt didn’t wait for her to hit seven. He reached out and snipped both wires as emphatically as he could.

Nothing happened. No fire, no explosion, nothing. The timer stopped at 00:00.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hayley said.

Appearing ready to collapse, she put her arms on Kurt’s shoulders and lay her forehead against his back.

“Great job,” Wiggins said. “Did Bradshaw send you?”

“Not exactly,” Kurt replied. Before he could explain, a rumble shook the structure, followed by several concussions in rapid succession. It sounded like distant thunder. The floor tilted slightly and then came back to level. The whole station swayed and creaked like an old tree in the wind.

“The dome,” Hayley said. “They were going to blow that too.”

Another round of explosions went off, and this time the shock wave hit like a sledgehammer. The sound of snapping cables followed. Moments later, the crunching impact of a collision knocked all of them to the floor.

Kurt remembered that the dome was above them and anchored to them, and he could only imagine what its destruction would do to the dilapidated laboratory. The sound of metal sliding on metal and the appearance of pinpoint jets of water blasting across the room gave him his answer.

Joe was racing across the desert in a V-8 Jeep Wrangler. With its big knobby tires, powerful engine, and high centerline clearance, the Jeep’s off-road capabilities were among the best in the world. But they didn’t compare to the ability of a hovercraft to cross rugged terrain.

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