Clive Cussler - Treasure

When the Seasat followed half a day later there was nothing to identify, no features conforming to a ship, any ship. Am I going too fast?"

"No . . ." Hollis said slowly. "But none of it makes a hell of a lot of sense."

"He must be from Missouri," Giordino said wryly. "Shall we show him?"

Pitt gave a brief nod to Captain Stewart.

"Okay, boys," said Stewart to his crewmen. "Once over lightly. "

One man turned the valve while the other aimed the nozzle.

A fine spray was turned on the plastic sheeting. At first the wind carried half the mist over the side. The crewman had ajusted the angle, and soon the plastic was coated with a watery film.

Before a full minute passed, the frigid atmosphere turned the water to ice.

Hollis observed the transformation pensively Then he walked up to Pitt and held out his hand. "My respects, sir. You made a sound call."

Dillenger stared like a rube who'd been suckered at a traveling carnival. "An iceberg," he muttered angrily. ,The sons of bitches made the ship into an iceberg."

Hala awoke cold and stiff. It was midmorning, yet there was still a level of darkness. The cargo container facade, combined with the ice-coated plastic shrouding the cruise liner, shut out most of the light. What little penetrated into the VIP suites was just sufficient to reveal the figures of Presidents Hasan and De Lorenzo on the bed next to her. Under one pitifully inadequate blanket, they huddled against one another for warmth, their frozen breaths hanging in vaporlike clouds above their heads before condensing and freezing on the walls.

The cold itself might have been tolerated, no matter how miserable, but the high humidity made the freezing temperatures unbearable. Their condition was further aggravated by not having had anything to eat since leaving Punta del Este. The hijackers made no effort to provide food for the passengers and crew. Ammar's inhuman callousness took its toll as and fear of the unknown the cold sapped their strength, drugged their minds.

for the first part of the voyage, the prisoners had survived on nothing but water out of the faucets in the bathroom showers and washbasins. But the pipes had frozen, and the torment of thirst was added to the ache of hunger.

The Lady Flamborough had been refitted to sail tropical seas and carried only a minimum supply of blankets. Everyone who came on board in Puerto Rico or Punta del Este had packed for a temperate climate and had left all winter clothing in closets at home. The prisoners bundled up as best they could, wearing several layers of lightweight shirts, pants and socks. They wrapped their heads in towels to retain body heat. The cold-weather gear they sorely missed most was gloves.

There was no warmth anywhere. Animar had refused all pleas to circulate heat throughout the ship. He could not afford the luxury. Interior heat would have melted the ice film on the plastic sheeting and sabotaged the deception.

Hala was not the only prisoner awake. Most had found it impossible to drop off into a sound sleep. They lay as if in a hypnotic trance, aware of their surroundings but unable to make any kind of physical effort.

any thoughts of resistance had rapidly drained away under the onslaught.

Instead of fighting the hijackers, Captain Collins and his crew were reduced to stru gling to stay alive against the numbing cold.

Hala raised to her elbows as Senator Pitt came into the room.

He made a strange appearance, wearing a gray business suit over a blue pinstripe. He gave Hala a smile of encouragement, but it was a pathetic effort. The fatigue of the past five days had taken away his youthful look, and he looked closer to his true age.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

"I'd give my right arm for a cup of hot tea," she said gamely.

"for my part, I'd give more than that."

President De Lorenzo sat up and dropped his feet on the deck. "Did someone say hot tea?"

"Just fantasizing, Mr. President," replied the Senator. "I never thought I'd find myself starving and freezing to death on a luxurious cruise ship."

"Nor I," said Hala.

President Hasan gave a slight moan as he changed position and lifted his head.

"Is your back bothering you?" asked President De Lorenzo, his face reflecting concern.

"I'm too cold to hurt," Hasan said with a tight smile.

"Can I help you up?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll just remain here in bed and conserve whatever strength I have left." Hasan looked at De Lorenzo and smiled thinly. "I wish we had met and become friends under more comfortable circumstances."

"I've heard the Americans say, 'Politics makes strange bedfellows." We seem to be a literal example."

"When we get out of this, you must be my guest in Egypt."

De Lorenzo nodded. "A reciprocal agreement. You must also visit Mexico."

"An honor I gladly accept.

The two Presidents solemnly shook hands on it-no longer pampered heads of state but two men whose lives shared a fate they could not control and were determined to end with dignity.

"The engines have stopped," said Hala suddenly.

Senator Pitt nodded. "The anchors were just dropped. We're moored, and they've shut down the engines."

"We must be near land."

"No way of telling with the port windows hidden."

"Too bad we're blind," said Hasan.

"If one of you will guard the door, I'll make a try at forcing the window," said Pitt. "Once I make a break in the glass without alerting a guard, I'll carve a hole in the fiberboard. With luck we might be able to see where we are."

"I'll listen at the door," Hala volunteered.

"The cold is bad enough without letting more in," said De Lorenzo dispiritedly.

"The temperature is the same outside as in here," the Senator replied bluntly.

He was not about to waste time in debate. He went immediately to the large glass viewing window in the sitting room. The port measured two meters high by one wide. There was no promenade deck running along outside. The staterooms and suite entrances faced the center of the ship. The windowed outer walls rose flush from the hull.

The only open areas patrolled by the hijackers were the pool and lounge decks above and the observation decks fore and aft.

The Senator rapped the glass with his knuckles. The return sound came like a dull thump. The glass was thick. It had to be to withstand the crushing impact of huge waves and hurricane-force winds.

"Anyone wear a diamond ring?" he asked.

Hala slipped her hands out of the pockets of a light raincoat, held them up and wiggled her fingers, displaying two small rings mounted with opals and turquoise. "Muslim suitors are not in the habit of spoiling their women with lavish gifts."

"I could use a full carat."

President Hasan pulled a large ring from one of his pinky fingers. "Here is a three-carat.

The Senator eyeballed the stone in the dim light. "This should do nicely. Thank you."

He worked quickly but carefully, making little noise, cutting an opening just large enough to slip a finger through. He stopped every so often to blow on his hands. When his fingers began to go numb, he held them under his armpits until they limbered up again.

He did not care to contemplate what the hijackers would do to him if they caught him. He could almost envision his bullet-riddled corpse floating in the current.

He cut a circular line around the small center hole, retracing the line until the gouge went deeper and deeper. The tricky thing was to prevent a piece of the glass from falling down the side of the steel hull and tinkling as it fell.

He curled a finger into the hole and pulled. The circle of glass gave way. He slowly eased it backward and set it on the carpet. Not a bad job. Now he had an opening large enough to stick his head through.