cussler.blueandgold-第14部分

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shook　her　head；　pulled　the　sheets　over　her　shoulders；　and　did　the　same。　They　would　be　up　with　the　sun；　and　she　expected　the　next　day　to　be　a　long　one。
　
　Chapter　6
　The　Mexican　customs　agent　leaned　from　his　window　and　checked　out　the　two　men　in　the　white　Ford　pickup　truck。　They　were　wearing　beat…up　shorts　and　T…shirts；　Foster　Grant　sunglasses；　and　baseball　caps　with　bait　shop　logos　on　them。
　
　〃Purpose　of　your　visit？〃　the　agent　asked　the　husky　man　be　hind　the　wheel。　The　driver　jerked　his　thumb　over　his　shoulder　at　the　fishing　rods　and　tackle　boxes　in　back。　〃Going　fishing。〃
　
　〃Wish　I　could　join　you；〃　the　agent　said　with　a　smile；　and　waved　them　on　into　Tijuana。
　
　As　they　pulled　away；　Zavala；　who　was　sitting　in　the　passenger　seat；　said；　〃What's　with　the　Spies　Like　Us　routine？　All　we　had　to　do　was　flash　our　NUMA　IDs。〃
　
　Austin　grinned。　〃This　is　more　fun。〃
　
　〃We're　lucky　our　clean…cut　appearance　doesn't　fit　the　profile　for　terrorists　or　drug　runners。〃
　
　〃I　prefer　to　think　that　we're　masters　of　disguise。〃　Austin　glanced　at　Zavala　and　shook　his　head。　〃By　the　way；　I　hope　you　brought　along　your　American　passport。　I　wouldn't　want　you　to　get　stuck　in　Mexico。〃
　
　〃No　problem。　It　wouldn't　be　the　first　time　a　Zavala　sneaked　across　the　border。〃
　
　Zavala's　parents　had　waded　across　the　Rio　Grande　in　the　1960s　from　Morales；　Mexico；　where　they　were　born　and　raised。　
　His　mother　was　seven　months　pregnant　at　the　time。　Her　condition　didn't　stand　in　the　way　of　her　determination　to　start　life　with　her　newborn　in　El　Norte。　They　made　their　way　to　Santa　Fe；　New　Mexico；　where　Zavala　was　born。　His　father's　skills　as　a　carpenter　and　woodcarver　brought　him　steady　work　with　the　wealthy　clients　who　built　their　fashionable　homes　there。　The　same　influential　people　helped　his　father　when　he　applied　for　a　green　card　and　later　for　citizenship。
　
　The　truck　was　on　loan　from　the　Red　Ink's　support　team　because　rental　cars　couldn't　be　taken　into　Mexico。　From　their　hotel　they　headed　south　from　San　Diego；　passing　through　Chula　Vista；　the　border　town　that　is　neither　Mexican　nor　American　but　a　blend　of　both　countries。　Once　into　Mexico　they　skirted　the　sprawling　slums　of　Tijuana；　then　picked　up　MEX　1；　the　Carretera　Transper　linsula　highway　that　runs　the　full　length　of　Baja　California。　Past　El　Rosarita　with　its　concentration　of　souvenir　shops；　motels；　and　taco　stands；　the　mercial　honky…tonk　began　to　thin　out。　Before　long　the　highway　was　flanked　by　agricultural　fields　and　bare　hills　on　the　left　and　by　the　curving　emerald　bay　known　as　Todos　Los　Santos。　About　an　hour　after　leaving　Tijuana　they　turned　off　at　Ensenada。
　
　Austin　knew　the　resort　and　fishing　city　from　the　days　he　crewed　in　the　Newport…Ensenada　sailboat　race。　The　unofficial　finish　was　at　Hussong's　Cantina；　a　seedy　old　bar　with　sawdust　covered　floors。　Before　the　new　highway　brought　the　tourists　and　their　dollars；　Baja　California　Norte　was　truly　the　frontier。　In　its　heyday　Hussong's　was　a　haunt　for　the　colorful　local　characters　and　rugged　individuals；　and　the　sailors；　fishermen；　and　auto　racers　who　knew　Ensenada　when　it　was　the　last　outpost　of　civilization　on　the　eight…hundred…mile…long　Baja　peninsula　before　La　Paz。　Hussong's　was　one　of　those　legendary　bars；　like　Foxy's　in　the　Virgin　Islands　or　Capt'n　Tony's　in　Key　West；　where　every　body　in　the　world　had　been。　As　they　stepped　inside　Austin　was　heartened　to　see　a　few　scruffy　barflies　who　might　remember　the　good　old　days　when　tequila　flowed　like　a　river　and　the　police　ran　a　shuttle　service　back　and　forth　between　the　cantina　and　the　local　hoosegow。　
　
　　They　sat　at　a　table　and　ordered　huevos　rancheros。　〃Ah；　pure　soul　food；〃　Zavala　said；　savoring　a　bite　of　scrambled　eggs　and　salsa。　Austin　had　been　studying　the　sad　expression　on　the　moose　head　that　had　been　over　the　bar　for　as　long　as　he　could　recall。　Still　wondering　how　a　moose　got　to　Mexico；　he　turned　his　attention　back　to　the　map　of　the　Baja　that　was　spread　out　on　the　table　in　front　of　him　next　to　the　satellite　photo　showing　water　temperature。
　
　〃This　is　where　we're　going；〃　he　said；　pointing　to　the　map。　〃The　temperature　anomaly　is　in　the　vicinity　of　this　cove。〃
　
　Zavala　finished　his　meal　with　a　smile　of　pleasure　and　opened　a　Baedecker's　guide　to　Mexico。　〃It　says　here　that　the　ballena　gris　or　gray　whale　arrives　off　the　Baja　from　December　to　March　to　mate　and　give　birth　to　its　young。　The　whales　weigh　up　to　twenty…five　tons　and　run　between　ten　and　forty…nine　feet　long。　During　mating；　one　male　will　keep　the　female　in　position　while　another　male…〃　He　winced。　〃Think　I'll　skip　that　part。　The　gray　was　almost　exterminated　by　mercial　whaling　but　was　made　a　protected　species　in　1947。〃　He　paused　in　his　reading。　〃Let　me　ask　you　something。　I　know　you've　got　a　lot　of　respect　for　any　thing　that　swims　in　the　sea；　but　I've　never　thought　of　you　as　a　whale　hugger。　Why　the　big　interest？　Why　not　leave　this　up　to　the　EPA　or　Fish　and　Wildlife？〃
　
　〃Fair　question。　I　could　say　I　want　to　find　out　what　started　the　chain　of　events　that　ended　up　with　the　sinking　of　Pop's　boat。　But　there's　another　reason　that　I　can't　put　my　finger　on。〃　A　thoughtful　expression　came　into　Austin's　eyes。　〃It　reminds　me　of　some　scary　dives　I've　made。　You　know　the　kind。　You're　swimming　along；　everything　seemingly　fine；　when　the　hair　rises　on　the　back　of　your　neck；　your　gut　goes　ice…cold；　and　you've　got　a　bad　feeling　you're　not　alone；　that　something　is　watching　you。　Something　hung7y。　〃
　
　〃Sure；〃　Zavala　said　contemplatively。　〃But　it　usually　goes　be　yond　that。　I　imagine　that　the　biggest；　baddest；　hungriest　shark　in　the　ocean　is　behind　me；　and　he's　thinking　how　it's　been　a　long　time　since　he's　had　authentic　Mexican　food。〃　He　took　another　bite　of　his　huevos。　〃But　when　I　look　around　there's　nothing　there；　or　maybe　there's　a　minnow　the　size　of　my　finger　who's　been　giving　me　the　evil　eye。〃
　
　〃The　sea　is　wrapped　in　mystery；〃　Austin　said　with　a　faraway　look　in　his　eyes。
　
　〃Is　that　a　riddle？〃
　
　〃In　a　way。　It's　a　quote　from　Joseph　Conrad。　'The　sea　never　changes　and　its　works；　for　all　the　talk　of　men；　are　wrapped　in　mystery。'〃　Austin　tapped　the　map　with　his　fingertip。　〃Whales　die　every　day。　We　lose　some　to　natural　causes。　Others　get　tangled　in　fishing　nets　and　starve　to　death；　or　they　get　nailed　by　a　ship；　or　we　poison　them　with　pollution　because　some　people　think　it's　okay　to　use　the　sea　for　a　toxic　waste　dump。〃　He　paused。　〃But　this　doesn't　fit　any　of　those　categories。　Even　with　out　interference　from　humans；　nature　is　always　out　of　kilter；　constantly　adjusting　and　readjusting。　But　it's　not　a　cacophony。　It's　like　the　improvisation　you　see　with　a　good　jazz　group；　Ahmad　Jamal　doing　a　piano　solo；　going　off　on　his　own；　catching　up　with　his　rhythm　section　later。〃　He　let　out　a　deep　laugh。　〃Hell；　I'm　not　making　sense。〃
　
　〃Don't　forget　I've　seen　your　jazz　collection；　Kurt。　You're　saying　there's　a　sour　note　here。〃
　
　〃More　a　universal　dissonance。〃　He　thought　about　it　some　more。　〃I　like　your　analogy　better。　I've　got　the　feeling　that　there's　a　big　bad…ass　shark　lurking　just　out　of　sight　and　it's　hungry　as　hell。〃
　
　Zavala　pushed　his　empty　plate　away。　〃As　they　say　back　home；　the　best　time　to　fish　is　when　the　fish　are　hungry。〃
　
　〃I　happen　to　know　you　grew　up　in　the　desert；　amigo；〃　Austin　said；　rising。　〃But　I　agree　with　what　you're　saying。　Let's　go　fishing。〃
　
　From　Ensenada　they　got　back　on　the　highway　and　headed　south。　As　in　Tijuana；　the　mercial　sprawl　thinned　out　and　vanished　and　the　highway　went　down　to　two　lanes。　They　turned　off　the　highway　past　Maneadero　and　followed　back　roads　past　agricultural　fields；　scattered　farm　houses；　and　old　missions；　eventually　ing　into　rugged；　lonely　country　with　fog…shrouded　rolling　hills　that　dropped　down　to　the　sea。　Zavala；　who　was　navigating；　checked　the　map。　〃We're　almost　there。　Just　around　the　corner；〃　he　said。
　
　Austin　didn't　know　what　he　was　expecting。　Even　so　he　was　surprised　when　they　rounded　the　curve　and　he　saw　a　neatly　lettered　sign　in　Spanish　and　English　announcing　they　were　at　the　home　of　the　Baja　Tortilla　pany。　He　pulled　over　to　the　side　of　the　road。　The　sign　was　at　the　beginning　of　a　long；　clay　drive　bordered　with　planted　trees。　They　could　see　a　large　building　at　the　end　of　the　driveway。
　
　Austin　leaned　on　the　steering　wheel　and　pushed　his　Foster　Grants　up　onto　his　forehead。　〃You're　sure　this　is　the　right　spot？〃
　
　Zavala　handed　the　map　over　for　Austin's　examination。　〃This　is　the　place；〃　he　said。
　
　〃Looks　like　we　drove　all　this　way　for　nothing。〃
　
　〃Maybe　not；〃　Zavala　said。　〃The　huevos　rancheros　were　excel　lent；　and　I've　got　a　new　Hussong's　Cantina　T…shirt。〃
　
　Austin's　eyes　narrowed。　〃Coincidence　makes　me　suspicious。　The　sign　says　'Visitors　Wele。'　As　long　as　we're　here；　let's　take　them　at　their　word。〃
　
　He　turned　the　truck　off　the　highway　and　drove　a　few　hundred　yards　to　a　neatly　tended　gravel　parking　lot　marked　with　spaces　for　visitors。　Several　cars　with　California　plates　and　a　couple　of　tour　buses　were　parked　in　front　of　the　building；　a　corrugated　aluminum　structure　with　a　portaled　adobe　facade　and　tiled　roof　in　the　Spanish　style。　The　smell　of　baking　corn　wafted　through　the　pickup's　open　windows。
　
　〃Diabolica