"I don't think there's time," Nighthawk said. "Her letter is more than two weeks old. Besides, I can feel danger and death in the air." Green shuddered. He was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and the only person who could get him out was raving like a medicine man in a B movie.

Sensing his friend's nervousness, Nighthawk smiled and said,

'Don't worry, I'm not going native. That's a good suggestion about the cops. I'd feel better if we checked things out first. C'mon," he said, and they headed back to the knoll they had climbed a few minutes before. They came to a natural overhang of rock. Nighthawk pulled away some branches that covered the opening. Lying upside-down on a crude rack was a birch-bark canoe. Nighthawk ran his hand lov- ingly over the shiny surface.

"I made this myself. Used only traditional materials and tech- niques."

"It's beautiful," Green said. "Straight out of Last of the Mohicans." Better. I've gone all over the lake in it."

They dragged the canoe to the beach, dined on beef jerky and rested as they waited for the sun to go down.

With the approach of dusk, they threw their packs into the canoe, pushed it into the water and started paddling. Night had fallen by the time they drew close to the shore. They had to stop when the canoe hit something solid in the water.

Nighthawk reached down, thinking they had hit a rock. "It's some kind of metal cage. Like a bait box." He scanned the water with his sharp eyes. "The water is filled with them. I smell fish, lots of them. It must be some sort of hatchery operation."

They found a breach in the floating barricade and pointed the canoe toward land. Something stirred and splashed in the metal cages, confirming Nighthawk's theory of a fish hatchery. Eventually they came to the outer end of a floating dock lit by dim ankle-high lights they had seen from the water. Tied up to a series of finger piers were several Jet Skis and powerboats. Next to the smaller watercraft was a large catamaran. It had a conveyor belt running down the middle, and Nighthawk guessed that it was used in the hatchery operation.

"I've got an idea," Green said. Working systematically, he pulled the ignition keys from the Jet Skis and the boats and threw them into the water. Then they tucked the canoe in between the other craft, covered it with a borrowed tarp and climbed onto the pier.

Where the dock joined the shore, it continued as a blacktop walk- way that led inland. Nighthawk and Green decided to keep to the woods. After walking a few minutes, they encountered a wide dirt track, as if a big bulldozer had plowed its way through the forest. They followed the swath and came up on a row of trucks and earth- moving machinery arranged in neat rows behind a huge storage building. Using the shed as a shield, they peered around the corner and saw that they were at the edge of an open area carved out of the woods. It was brightly illuminated by a ring of portable halogen lights. Mechanized shovels were flattening down the dirt, and great road-building machines were laying down swathes of blacktop. Work crews armed with shovels were smoothing out the hot asphalt in preparation for it to be flattened down by the steamrollers.

Nighthawk said, "What do we do next, Professor?"

"How long do we have until daybreak?"

"About five hours to first light. It would be smart to be back on the lake before then."

Green sat with his back against a tree. "Let's keep an eye on what's going on until then. I'll take the first watch." Shortly after midnight, Ben took over. Green stretched out on the ground and closed his eyes. The cleared area was now almost deserted except for a few armed men lounging around. Nighthawk blinked his eyes and reached over to tap Green's shoulder.

"Uh, Josh-" Green sat up and looked toward the plaza. "What the hell-?"

Beyond the clearing, where there were only woods before, was a huge dome-shaped structure whose mottled surface glowed bluish white. It seemed to have appeared by magic.

"What is that thing?" Ben whispered. "And where did it come from?"

"You got me," Green said.

"Maybe it's a hotel."

"Naw," Green said. "Too functional-looking. Would you stay in a place like that?"

"I grew up in a log cabin. Any place bigger than that is a hotel." "I don't mean to disparage your home territory, but can you see fishermen and hunters flocking here? That thing belongs in Las Vegas."

"We're talking North Pole, man. Looks like an overgrown igloo." Green had to admit the dome had the same contours as the Eskimo shelters he had seen in National Geographic. But instead of hard snow, the surface appeared to be a translucent plastic material. Huge hangar doors were set into the base of the dome, overlooking the open area, which was being built as a plaza.

As they watched, there were signs of new activity. The plaza was becoming busy again. The construction crew had returned, along with more armed men, who could be seen glancing up at the night sky. Before long, the sound of engines could be heard from above.

Then a gigantic object moved across the night sky and blotted out the stars.

"Look at the dome," Nighthawk said.

A vertical seam had appeared in the top of the structure. The seam widened into a wedge, then the top half of the dome peeled back like the sections of an orange until it was completely open. Light streamed out of the dome's interior and bathed the silvery skin of a gigantic torpedo-shaped object that moved slowly to a position exactly above the vast opening.

"We were both wrong," Nighthawk said. "Our Las Vegas hotel is a blimp hangar."

Green had been studying the contours of the enormous aircraft. "You ever see that old news footage about the Hindenburg, that big

German airship that caught fire and burned back in the 1930s?"

Tags: Clive Cussler NUMA Files Thriller
Source: readsnovelonline.net