Clive Cussler - Serpent

"We could do it, just the two of us," he said finally. "If we had a jack."

"What?" The waiter looked puzzled.

A jack" Carey struggled for the right word, gave up, and made pumping motions with his hand. "For an automobile."

Angelo's dark eyes brightened with understanding. "Ali," he said. A lever. For an auto."

"That's right," Carey said with growing excitement. "Look, we could put it here and pry the frame away from the wall so we'll have space to pull Myra out."

"Si. The garage. I come back."

"Yes, that's right, the garage." Carry glanced at his wife's stricken face. "But you must hurry."

Carry was never a man to take things for granted. Angelo might bolt for the nearest lifeboat as soon as he left the cabin. Carey wouldn't blame him. He gripped Angelo's elbow.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Angelo. When we get back to New York, I'll make sure you're rewarded."

"Hey Signor. I don't do this for money" He grinned, blew a kiss at Mrs. Carey and disappeared from the cabin, grabbing a life jacket on the way out.

He ran down the hallway, descended a staircase to the foyer deck, and got no farther. The Stockholm's bow had penetrated almost to the chapel, leaving the foyer a mess of twisted metal and shattered glass. He moved away from the main damage area and followed a .central corridor that took him toward the stern, then went down another set of stairs to A Deck. Again, many of the starboard cabins had simply vanished. Once more he made his way down to the next deck using a circuitous route.

Angelo stopped and crossed himself each time before he descended to another deck. The gesture gave him comfort even though he knew it was futile. Not even God would be crazy enough to follow him down to the bowels of a sinking ship.

He paused to get his bearings. He. was on B Deck, where the garage and many of the smaller cabins were located. The fiftycar Grande Autorimessa was sandwiched between the forward touristclass cabins. The airconditioned garage stretched the width of the ship. Doors on both sides allowed cars to drive directly onto the pier. Angelo had only been below once before. One of the garage men, a fellow Sicilian, wanted to show him the wonder car Chrysler was shipping back from Italy The streamlined Norseman had taken a year to design, and Ghia of Turin had spent another fifteen months handbuilding the hundredthousanddollar machine. He could see the breathtakingly beautiful modern lines through openings in the crate that protected it. The two men were more interested in a RollsRoyce that a rich American from Miami Beach was shipping home from his Paris honeymoon. Angelo and his friend took turns pretending they were the Rolls's chauffeur and passenger.

Angelo remembered being told that there were nine cars in the garage. Maybe one would have a jack he could get at. He wasn't hopeful after seeing the extent of the starboard damage.

The other ship would have ripped right through the garage wall. He paused in the gloom to catch his breath and wipe the sweat

from his eyes. Now what? Flight? Mamma mia. What if the lights go out? He'd never find his way. Fear tugged at his legs, tried to

set them in motion.

Wait.

The day he visited the garage his friend showed him another vehicle, an oversized armored truck, in a far corner away from the impact side. No markings had been visible on the shiny black metal body. When Angelo asked about it, his friend simply rolled his eyes and shrugged. Gold maybee. He only knew that it was guarded day and night. Even as they talked, Angelo had seen a man in a dark gray uniform watching them until they left the cargo space.

The deck trembled under his feet. The ship listed another degree or so. Angelo went beyond fear and was now in the throes of genuine terror.

His heartbeat ratcheted up several notches. Slowed as .the ship settled. He wondered how close it was to rolling over. He looked at the life jacket he'd been carrying and laughed. The vest would not do much good if the ship capsized and sank with him deep in its belly. Five minutes. That's all he'd give it. Then it was up to the top deck as quick as a rabbit. He and Carey would work something out. They had to, He found the entrance to the garage. He took a deep .breath, opened the door, and stepped through.

The cavernous space was black except for yellow puddles from the emergency lights in the high ceilings. He glanced toward the starboard side and saw rippling reflections on the floor where the garage was taking on water. Water surged around his ankles. Seawater must be pouring in, and if the garage

't filled yet, it would be so in minutes. Chances were that any cars in the way would have been crushed by the knifing bow. He wouldn't have much time. He started along a wall toward the far corner. He could see the boxy shape in. the shadows and the glint of light off its dark windows. Logic was telling him it would be a dangerous waste of time to go any farther. Get out of the hold and to the top deck. Pronto. Before the garage became a fish tank.

The image came to him of Mrs. Carey; pinned against the wall like a butterfly. The truck was her last chance, yet no chance at all. Most likely the jack would be locked inside. He had convinced himself he would have to leave emptyhanded and stopped to take one last longing look at the truck. That's when he discovered he wasn't alone.

A pencilthin beam spit the darkness near the truck Then another. Flashlights. Then portable lamps flared and were placed on the floor so as to illuminate the truck. In their light he could see people moving around. There appeared to be several men. Some wore gray uniforms, others black business suits. They had the side and back door of the truck open. He couldn't see what they were doing, except that they seemed to be very intent on their work. He was about twothirds of the way across the garage and opened his mouth to call out °Signores." The word never left his lips..

Something was moving in the shadows. Grayclad figures appeared suddenly like actors on a darkened stage. Vanished into the darkness. Appeared again. Four of them, all wearing engine-room coveralls, moving across the breadth of the hold. Something about their furtiveness, like the stealth of a cat stalking a bird, told Angelo to remain quiet. A guard turned, saw the approaching figures, shouted a warning, and reached for the holstered gun at his hip.

The men in coveralls dropped to one knee with military precision and raised the objects they'd been carrying to their shoulders. That smooth, and deliberate motion told Angelo he'd beenmistaken about the tools. You didn't grow up in the home of the Mafia not knowing what a machinegun looked like and how it was aimed.

Four muzzle barrels opened fire simultaneously, concentrating on the immediate threat, the guard, who had his gun out and was aiming it. The fusillade ripped into him, and his gun went flying. His body virtually disintegrated in a scarlet cloud of blood, flesh, and clothing from the impact of hundreds of softnosed bullets. The guard gyrated, caught in a grotesque slowmotion death dance by the stroboscopic effect of the whitehot muzzle blasts.

The others tried to scramble for cover, only to be brought down by ,the merciless hail of lead before they could take a step. The metal walls echoed and reechoed with the ugly chatter and the mad whine of bullets ricocheting off the armored truck and the wall behind it. Even after it was quite clear that no one could have survived, the men with the guns continued to move forward, firing at the supine bodies.

Suddenly all was silent.

A purple pall of smoke hung in the air, which was thick with the smell of cordite and death.

The killers methodically turned over each body. Angelo thought he would go mad. He stood flat against the bulkhead frozen with fear, cursing his luck. He must have stumbled onto a robbery! He expected the killers to start removing sacks of money from the truck. Instead they did a peculiar thing. They lifted the bleeding bodies out of the rising water, dragged them one by one around to the back of the truck. Then they stuffed them inside, slammed the door, and bolted it shut.