Athabasca. Alistair MacLeanЧитать онлайн книгу.
“You searched the area?”
“Certainly. Conditions weren’t ideal – it was dark, with a little snow falling. I thought I saw helicopter ski marks on a wind-blown stretch of rock. The others weren’t so sure. On the remote off-chance I contacted Anchorage and asked them to alert every public and private airport and strip in the State. Also to have radio and TV stations ask the public to report hearing or sighting a helicopter in an unusual place. I haven’t but one hope in ten thousand that the request will bring any results.”
He grimaced. “Most people never realise how huge this State is. It’s bigger than half Western Europe, but it’s got a population of just over three hundred thousand, which is to say it’s virtually uninhabited. Again, helicopters are an accepted fact of life in Alaska, and people pay no more attention to them than you would to a car in Texas. Third, we’ve still only got about three good hours of light, and the idea of carrying out an air search is laughable – anyway, we’d require fifty times the number of planes we have, and even then it would be sheer luck to find them.
“But, for the record, we did find out something unpleasant. In case anything should happen to the pump station, there’s an emergency pipeline that can be switched in to bypass it. Our friends took care of that also. They blew up the control valve.”
“So there’s going to be a massive oil spillage?”
“No chance. The line is loaded with thousands of sensors all the way from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez, and any section of it can be closed down and isolated immediately. Even the repairs would normally present no problem. But neither metal nor men work too well in these abnormally low temperatures.”
“Apparently that doesn’t apply to saboteurs,” Dermott said. “How many were there?”
“Poulson said two. Two others said three. The remainder weren’t sure.”
“Not a very observant lot, are they?”
“I wonder if that’s fair, Mr Dermott. Poulson’s a good man and he doesn’t miss much.”
“Did he see their faces?”
“No. That much is for certain.”
“Masked?”
“No. Their fur collars were pulled high up and their hats low down so that only their eyes were visible. You can’t tell the colour of a man’s eyes in the darkness. Besides, our people had just been dragged from bed.”
“But not the two engineers. They were working on the engines. How come at that very early hour?”
Bronowski spoke with restraint. “Because they had been up all night. Because they were going home to their families in Fairbanks for their week’s leave. And because I had arranged to pick them up there shortly after that time.”
“Did Poulson or any of his friends recognise the voices?”
“If they had, I’d have the owners behind bars by this time. Their collars were up to their eyes. Of course their voices would have been muffled. You ask a lot of questions, Mr Dermott.”
“Mr Dermott is a trained interrogator,” Brady said cheerfully. “Trained him myself, as a matter of fact. What happened after that?”
“They were marched across to the food store and locked in there. We keep it locked because of bears. Unless bears are near starving, they aren’t very partial to human beings, but they’re partial indeed to all human goodies.”
“Thank you, Mr Bronowski. One last question. Did Poulson or his men hear the fatal shots?”
“No. Both the men Poulson saw were carrying silenced guns. That’s the great advantage of those modern educational pictures, Mr Dermott.”
There was a pause in the questioning. Brady said: “Because I am an acute observer of character, George, I can tell something’s eating you. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s only a thought. I’m wondering if the murderers are employees of the trans-Alaskan pipeline.”
The silence was brief but marked. Then Bronowski said: “This beats everything. I speak as Dr Watson, you understand. I know that Sherlock Holmes could solve a crime without leaving his armchair, but I never knew of any cop or security man who could come up with the answer without at least visiting the scene of the crime.”
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