Clive Cussler - Treasure

"By God, you're right," murmured Giordino. "I do smell lamb on a grill."

Pitt helped Findley to his feet- "Appears that someone has jumped your claim."

"they must be dumber than a toad if they think there's any ore worth processing around here."

"I doubt they're excavating for zinc."

Giordino moved off to one side. "Before you doused the light, I saw a glint over here somewhere." He moved one foot around in a semicircle. It struck an object that clinked, and he picked it up. He turned so he was facing away from the Mine and flicked on a tiny penlight. "A bottle of ChAteau Margaux 1966-for hardrock miners, these guys have real style."

"Odd goings-on here," said Findley. "Whoever moved in isn't getting their hands dirty."

"Lamb and vintage Bordeaux must have come from the Lady Flamborough,"

Gunn concluded.

"How far away are we from where the glacier meets the fjord?" Pitt asked Findley.

"The glacier itself is only about five hundred meters to the north. The wall facing the fjord is slightly less than two kilometers west."

"How was the ore transi3reported?"

Findley gestured in the direction of the fjord. "By this narrow-gauge railroad-The tracks run from the mine entrance to the ore crusher, then down to the dock, where the Ore was loaded on ships."

"You never said anythipg about a dock."

"NobodY asked." Findley shrugged. "A small loading pier.

The pilings extend into a cove slightly off to one side of the glacier."

"Approximate distance from the ship?"

"A baseball outfielder with a good arm could lob a ball from the dock against the hull."

"I should have seen it," Pitt murmured bitterly. "I missed it, everyone missed it."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Findley,

"The terrorists' support team," answered Pitt. The hijackers on the ship need an advance base for their escape. They couldn't disembark at sea without detection and capture unless they had a submarine, which is impossible to find

without legitimate government backing. The abandoned mine site makes a perfect hiding place for helicopters. And they can use the narrow-gauge railroad for commuting back and forth from the fjord."

"Hollis," said Gunn briefly, "We'd better inform him."

"Can't," said Giordino. "Our friendly neighborhood Colonel refused to provide us with a radio."

"So how do we warn Hollis?" Gunn put in.

"No way." Pitt shrugged. "But we might help by finding and disabling their helicopters while pinning down any terrorist force in the mine camp to keep them from catching Hollis and his assault teams in a vise."

"There could be fifty of them," protested Findley. "We're only four."

"'Their security is lax," Gunn pointed out. "They don't expect anyone to drop in from the interior of a deserted island in the middle of a storm."

"Rudi's right," said Giordino. "If they were alert they'd have been onto us by now. I vote we evict the bastards."

"We have surprise on our side," Pitt continued. "As long as we stay careful and keep undercover in the dark, we can keep them off balance."

"If they come after us," asked Findley, "do we throw rocks?"

"My life is guided by the Boy Scout motto," replied Pitt.

He and Giordino knelt in unison and unzipped the tote bags. Giordino began passing around bulletproof vests while Pitt handed out the weapons.

He held up a semiautomatic shotgun for Findley. "You said you hunted some, Clayton. Here's an early Christmas present. A twelve-gauge Benelli Super Ninety."

Findley's eyes gleamed. "I like it." He ran his hands over the stock as lightly as though it were a woman's thigh. "Yes, I like it." Then he noticed that Gunn and Giordino carried Heckler-Koch machine guns modified with silencers. "You can't buy this stuff at a corner hardware store. Where did you get it?"

"Special Operations Forces issue," Giordino said nonchalantly. "Borrowed when when Hollis and Dillenger weren't looking."

Findley was further amazed when Pitt shoved a round drum in an ancient"Mompson submachine gun. "You must like antiques."

"There's something to be said for old-fashioned craftsman ship," said Pitt. He looked at his watch again. Only six minutes remained before Hollis and Dillenger attacked the ship. "No shooting until I give the word. We don't want to screw up the Special Forces assault. They have precious little chance of surprise as it is."

"What about the glacier?" Findley asked. "Won't our gunfire send out shock waves that could fracture the forward wall of ice?"

"Not from this range," Gunn assured him. "Our concentrated fire will seem more like the distant bang of firecrackers."

"Remember," ordered Pitt, "we want to stall off a gun battle as long as we can. Our first priority is to find the helicopters."

"A pity we don't have any explosives," mumbled Giordino. "Nothing ever comes easy."

Pitt gave Findley a few seconds to get his bearings. Then the geologist nodded and they moved out, skirting the backs of the old, weathered buildings, keeping to the shadows, stepping as quietly as possible, the crunch of their soles against the loose gravel muffled by the stiff breeze that reversed and now came sweeping down the mountainside.

The buildings around the mine were mostly built of wooden support beams covered by corrugated metal sheeting that showed signs of corrosion and rust. Some were small sheds, others rose two to four stories into the sky, their walls trailing off into the gloom. Except for the smell of the roasting lamb, it looked like an old American West ghost town.

Abruptly Findley stopped behind a long shed and held up a hand, waiting for the other to close around him. He Peered around the corner once, twice, and then turned to Pitt.

"The recreation and dining-hall building is only a few paces to my right," he whispered. "I can make out cracks of light spilling out from under the door." Giordino tested the air with his nose. "They must like their meat well done."

"any sign of guards?" asked Pitt.

"The area looks deserted."

"Where could they hide the helicopters?"

"The main mine is a vertical shaft dropping to six levels. So that's out as a parking garage."

"Where, then?" Findley gestured into the early-morning blackness. "The ore-crushing mill has the largest open space. There's also a sliding door used for storing heavy equipment. If the copter's rotor blades were folded they could easily squeeze three of them inside."

"The crushing mill it is," said Pitt softly.

There was no more time to waste; Hollis and Dillenger's joint attack would begin at any minute. They were halfway past the dining hall when the door suddenly opened and a shaft of light filtered through the rain, cutting them off below the knees and illuminating their feet. They froze, guns in firing position.

A figure was silhouetted by the interior light for a few seconds. He stepped over the threshold briefly and scraped a few morsels from a dish onto the ground. Then he turned and closed the door. Moments later Pitt and the others flattened their backs against the crushing-mill's wall.

Pitt turned and put his mouth to Findley's ear.

"How can we sneak in?"

"Conveyor belts run through openings in the building that carried the bulk ore to the crusher and back to the train after it became slurry.

The only problem is they're way over our heads."

"Lower access doors?"

"The big equipment-storage door," Findley answered, his murmur as soft as Pitts, "and the main front entrance. If I remember correctly there's also a stairway that leads into a side office."

"No doubt locked," said Giordino morosely.

"A bright thought," Pitt conceded. "Okay, the front door it is. No one inside will be expecting total strangers coming to call. We'll go in clean and quiet, like we belong. No surprises. Just one of their buddies strolling from the dining hall."