Clive Cussler - Trojan Odyssey

Pitt turned his attention to the upper works of the tunnel. After the boring machine had passed, the miners had installed rock bolt support systems to strengthen the rock's natural tendency to reinforce itself. Then a thick lining of shotcrete or gunite was sprayed on the tunnel pneumatically at high velocity. Conveying the concrete for long distances would have been accomplished by booster pumps spaced from the entrance source to the recently excavated area behind the boring machine. This would have been followed by an injection of fluid grout under pressure to seal off leaks from groundwater. Besides ensuring water tightness from without, the shotcrete and grout would also improve the flow of fluid through the tunnel, a phenomenon that Pitt began to believe was a distinct possibility.

The overhead lights illuminated the tunnel so brilliantly it almost hurt the eyes. Both men could now understand why the workers in the bus had worn sunglasses against the glare. Almost as if they timed their actions, Pitt and Giordino put on their own sunglasses.

An electric locomotive pulling several flatbed cars and carrying open crates of rock bolts passed, headed in the opposite direction toward the ongoing excavation. The train crew all waved at the two men in the golf cart, who responded by waving back.

"Everyone is real down-home friendly in these parts," remarked Giordino.

"Did you notice the men wear black jumpsuits and the women either white or green?"

"Specter must have lived a former life as an interior decorator."

"More like some sort of caste identification system," said Pitt.

"I'd cut off an ear before I wore lavender," muttered Giordino, suddenly becoming aware that he was covered in white. "I think I'm out of uniform."

"Stuff something in your chest."

Giordino said nothing, but his bitter stare at Pitt said it all.

A sober look crossed Pitt's face. "I wonder if those miners have any idea of the toxic mineral content of the muck they're pouring into the sea."

"They will," added Giordino, "when their hair starts falling out and their internal organs dissolve."

They continued on, conscious of an unnatural atmosphere deep below the earth and sea. They passed several smaller crosscut tunnels leading off to their left that aroused their curiosity. Another parallel tunnel appeared to be linked by the crosscuts every thousand yards. Pitt assumed it was a service tunnel for electrical conduits.

"There's the explanation for the earth tremors on the surface," said Pitt. "They didn't use a big tunnel-boring machine for these small tunnels. They were excavated by drilling and blasting."

"Shall we turn in?"

"Later," replied Pitt. "Let's push ahead and follow the muck on the conveyor belt."

Giordino was stunned at the power of the golf cart. He got it up to fifty miles an hour and he soon began overhauling other vehicles on the concrete road.

"Better slow down," cautioned Pitt. "We don't want to arouse suspicion."

"You think they got traffic cops down here?"

"No, but big brother is watching," Pitt countered, discreetly nodding at a camera mounted above on the overhead lighting system.

Giordino reluctantly slowed and settled behind a bus traveling in the same direction. Pitt began timing the bus schedule and quickly calculated that the buses ran twenty minutes apart and stopped at work sites when and wherever miners waited to board or requested to get off. He glanced at the hands on his watch. It was only a question of time before the technicians on the replacement shift entered the ventilator control room and found their coworkers duct-taped to the floor. So far, no alarms had been sounded, nor had they seen security guards cruising up and down the tunnel as if searching for someone.

"We're coming up on something," Giordino alerted Pitt.

A thumping sound became stronger as they moved closer to what Pitt quickly identified as a giant pumping station. The rock that had been crushed to sand was sent from the conveyor belt into a monstrous bin. From there, pumps the size of a three-story building thrust it into huge pipes. As Pitt had concluded, the contaminated muck was then propelled into the sea where Poco Bonito had run aground on the accumulation. Beyond the pumping stations were giant steel doors.

"The enigma goes deeper," said Pitt thoughtfully. "Those pumps are monumental, far more capable of pumping ten times the excavated muck. They must serve another purpose."

"They'll probably dismantle them when the tunnel is finished."

"I don't think so. They look permanent."

"I wonder what's on the other side of those doors," said Giordino.

"The Caribbean," answered Pitt. "We must be miles from shore and deep beneath the surface of the sea."

Giordino's eyes never left the doors. "How in the world did they dig this thing?"

"They began with an open excavation onshore by digging a portal. First, a starter tunnel was launched with a different type of machine called a roadheader excavator. When it reached a calculated depth, the big boring machine was brought in and assembled in the excavated tunnel. It worked east under the sea, then it must have been disassembled and reassembled so it could begin excavating in the opposite direction toward the west."

"How could an operation this size be kept secret?"

"By paying the miners and engineers big bucks to keep their mouths shut, or perhaps by threats and blackmail."

"According to Rathbone, they don't hesitate to kill intruders. Why not workmen with loose tongues?"

"Don't remind me about intruders. Anyway, suspicions confirmed," Pitt said slowly. "The brown crud is spread into the sea by man without the slightest consideration for the terrible consequences."

Giordino shook his head slowly. "A contaminated dump operation that puts all others to shame."

Pitt reached into his knapsack again and lifted out a small digital camera and began taking pictures of the giant pumping operation.

"I don't suppose your magical kit can produce any food and drink?" probed Giordino.

Pitt reached inside and produced a pair of granola bars. "Sorry, that's the best I can do."

"What else is in there?"

"My trusty old Colt forty-five."

"I guess we can always shoot ourselves before they hang us," Giordino said glumly.

"We've seen what we came for," said Pitt. "Time to go home."

Giordino was pressing his foot on the accelerator before Pitt finished his sentence. "The sooner we're out of here, the better. We're on borrowed time as it is."

Pitt continued snapping pictures as they drove. "One more detour, I want to see what's inside those crosscut tunnels."

As he accelerated, Giordino sensed that heading off into a side tunnel was only part of Pitt's plan. He was dead certain that Pitt wanted to check out the other end of the tunnel and observe the big boring machine in action. Pictures were taken of every piece of equipment they passed. No small detail of the tunnel's construction went unrecorded.

Giordino swung right into the first crosscut he reached without slowing down, taking the turn on two wheels. Pitt hung on and gave him a waspish look, but said nothing. They had traveled less than two hundred feet when abruptly the golf cart shot into another tunnel. They came to a fast stop and stared in total astonishment.

"Mind-boggling," Giordino muttered under his breath in awe.

"Don't stop," ordered Pitt. "Keep going."

Giordino acquiesced and drove the golf cart at top speed into another tunnel. He didn't hesitate or wait for Pitt to urge him forward. His foot never came off the pedal as they charged through the crosscut into a fourth tunnel. At last they could go no farther, and Giordino braked the cart before they struck the far wall. They sat there for several moments, staring left and right into eternity, taking in the immensity of what they were seeing.