White Death

by Clive Cussler

  Gamay kept tabs on their pursuer and maintained a running com- mentary. The car's wheels squealed with each change in direction. Trout held it steady. He was running between sixty and seventy miles per hour, and was heading down a long, gradual slope in the road, when an unbelievable sight met his eyes.

  Ahead of them, a black Tahoe had pulled out onto the road from behind a huge boulder. For a second, he thought the SUV behind him had used a shortcut.

  Then Gamay shouted, “There are two SUVs. They're trying to sandwich us in.”

  The vehicle in front of the Trouts' car slowed to block the road, and the other SUV quickly caught up from behind. Trout tried to go around, but each time he poked the rental car's nose into the on- coming lane, the SUV pulled in front of him. He touched the brakes to avoid a rear-end collision. The following SUV crashed into his rear bumper, crushing it into the trunk and sending the car into a neck- jolting wild fishtail.

  Paul fought the wheel and managed to keep the car from going into a spin. The Tahoe slammed into the car again. The smell of gas from a ruptured tank filled the car. The Tahoe made another lunge, but this time Gamay saw it coming and yelled, “Right!”

  Trout spun the wheel to the right and the Tahoe only clipped the bumper. Gamay glanced at the SUVs, which had pulled away.

  “They're holding back for some reason.”

  “That won't last,” Paul said. "Then we'd better do something soon. The rental agency is going

  to wonder why their car is only two feet long. Damn, he's coming in again. Left!"

  Trout jerked the wheel. The car moved into the passing lane, and

  Trout saw something that made his hair stand up on edge. The road curved sharply to the right. The Tahoes could keep them boxed in until the last minute. The SUV in front would screen the curve from view. Then it would slow to make the turn, and the one behind would knock them off the cliff like a cue stick tapping a billiard ball.

  Paul yelled at Gamay to hold tight, and he gripped the wheel even tighter with his sweaty palms. He tried to remove all thought from his mind, relying only on instinct, keeping sharp watch in the rearview mirror. Timing would be crucial.

  The vehicle on their tail began to accelerate. Trout made his move. When the SUV came within a few feet of the car's bumper, he jerked the wheel to the right.

  The car hit the soft, sandy berm along the side of the road and drove up on the inclined shoulder like a race car on the angled track of a speedway. It crashed through bushes and small trees. Wood shrieked against metal.

  He saw a flash of black as the Tahoe flew by him on the left. Then came a horrendous screech of brakes and a crash. The SUV that had been on his tail had slammed into the rear of the vehicle in front, locking bumpers. The lead vehicle tried to slow and turn, but the weight of the attached SUV made any turn impossible, and they were locked together. Both vehicles shot off the cliff like projectiles from a slingshot and plunged hundreds of feet in a fiery tandem death trap.

  Trout was having his own problems. The banking had followed the contour of the road, and now it curved while the car maintained a straight trajectory. He lost all control as the car was airborne. Cen- trifugal force kept him pressed into the driver's door. The car landed at an angle, collapsing the wheels, with a sound like a junkyard sym- phony. He tried to glance over at Gamay, but the airbags deployed and all he could see was exploding white plastic.

  Then only blackness.

  NUMA 4 - White Death

  16

  WELCOME BACK TO Torshavn, Mr. Austin,“ said the friendly desk clerk at the Hotel Hania. ”Your fishing trip up the coast went well, I trust."

  “Yes, thanks. I ran into some very unusual fish.” The efficient desk clerk handed Austin an envelope along with his room key. “This came in earlier today.”

  Austin opened the envelope and read the message neatly printed on hotel letterhead: I'm in Copenhagen. Staying at the Palace. Dinner offer still good? Therri.

  Austin smiled as he thought of Them's incredible eyes and her dulcet voice. He must remember to play the lottery. Maybe the winds of good fortune were blowing in his direction. On a clean sheet of sta- tionery, he wrote a reply: Tonight at the Tivoli? He folded the paper, gave it to the desk clerk and asked him to send the message.

  “Would you try to reserve a room for tonight at the Palace Hotel?” he said.

  “I'd be happy to, Mr. Austin. I'll ready your bill for checkout.”

  Austin went up to his room, where he took a shower and shaved. The phone rang as he was toweling himself dry. The desk clerk said that his room at the Palace was all set and that he had taken the lib- erty of canceling the previous reservation at an airport hotel. Austin packed his bag and called Professor Jorgensen. The professor was in class, so Austin left a message saying he would like to see him later in the day if possible. He said he would be en route to Copenhagen and suggested that Jorgensen leave a reply at the Palace Hotel front desk.

  Austin gave the desk clerk a generous tip, then he caught the hel- icopter shuttle from Torshavn to Vagar Airport and took the At- lantic Airways flight to Copenhagen. Later that day, the airport taxi dropped him off at Radhuspladen, the city's main square. He made his way past the statue of Hans Christian Andersen and the spout- ing dragon water fountains to the stately old Palace Hotel overlook- ing the busy square. Two messages waited for him. One was from Therri: Tivoli it is! See you at six. The other note was from Professor Jorgensen, saying he would be in his office all afternoon.

  Austin dropped his duffel bag off in his room and called the pro- fessor to tell him he was on his way. As Austin was leaving the hotel, it occurred to him that jeans and turtleneck were hardly appropri- ate for a night out with a beautiful woman. He stopped at a men's clothing shop in the concourse and, with the help of a knowledgeable salesman, quickly picked out what he wanted. A hefty bribe to the salesman and tailor insured that the clothes would be ready for him at five.

  The University of Copenhagen campus was a short cab ride from the central square. The Marine Biological Laboratory was part of the Zoological Institute. Park lawns surrounded the two-story brick building. The professor's cubicle had exactly enough room to ac- commodate a desk and computer and two chairs and a clutter limit that the professor had far exceeded. Graphs and charts covered the walls, and folders were piled everywhere.

  “Pardon the mess,” he apologized. “My main office is at the Helsingor campus. I use this closet when I'm teaching classes here.” He removed a pile of papers from a chair to make room for Austin. Nonplussed at what to do with the mess, he placed it precariously atop a teetering stack of other papers on his desk. “Wonderful to see you again, Kurt,” he said with his big-toothed grin. “I'm so glad you were able to make it to our beautiful city.”

  “It's always a pleasure to visit Copenhagen. Unfortunately, my flight back to the States leaves tomorrow, so I only have one night here.”

  “Better than nothing at all,” Jorgensen said, settling into the cramped area behind his desk. “Tell me, did you ever hear anything further from that lovely woman, the attorney who was having cof- fee with you in Torshavn?”

  “Therri Weld? As a matter of fact, I'm having dinner with her tonight.”

  "Lucky man! I'm sure she'll be a more enjoyable companion than

  I was,“ Jorgensen said with a chuckle. ”Well, did you enjoy Skaal- shavn?"

  Enjoy isn't the word for it. Skaalshavn is a surprising place.

  Thanks for letting me use your cottage and your boat.“ ”My pleasure. It's incredible country, isn't it?“ Austin nodded. ”Speaking of Skaalshavn, I was wondering how your lab tests turned out."

  The professor rummaged through the Mt. Everest of papers on his desk. Miraculously, he found the file he was looking for. He took his glasses off and replaced them. "I don't know if you're acquainted with my main areas of expertise. I specialize in the effects ofhypoxia. I study how oxygen deficiency and temperature change affect fish populations. I don't claim to be an expert in
every area, so I've run my findings by various colleagues in bacterial viruses. We have tested dozens of water samples and fish taken at various locations near the

  Oceanus operation for signs of anomalies. We wondered if there was a parasite. Nothing."

  “What about your original theory that there might be trace chem- icals in the water?”

  “No, to the contrary. The Oceanus people weren't exaggerating when they bragged their filtration system was state-of-the-art. The water is absolutely pure. The other fish farms I tested produced waste from feed and so on. In short, I found nothing that would affect the Skaalshavn stocks.”

  “Which begs the question, what is decimating the fish popula- tion?”

  Jorgensen pushed his glasses up on his forehead. “There could be other reasons we haven't touched. Predators, habitat degradation, a disruption of the food supply.”

  “Have you ruled out a link to the fish farm completely?”

  “No, I haven't, which is why I'm returning to Skaalshavn to make more tests.”

  “That might be a problem,” Austin said in an understatement. He proceeded to give the professor a condensed version of his ex- ploration of the fish farm, his narrow escape and rescue. “I'll be glad to pay you for the loss of the boat,” he added.

  “The boat is the least of my concerns. You could have been filled” Jorgensen was flabbergasted. “I ran into patrol boats when I was making my tests. They looked intimidating, but they never attacked or threatened me.”

  “Maybe they didn't like my face. I fnow I didn't like theirs.” “You may have noticed I am not exactly a movie star,” the profes- sor said. “No one tried to kill me.”

  "It's possible that they knew your tests would come up negative.

  In that case, there was no reason to scare you off. Did you discuss your work with Gunnar?"

  “Yes, he was always there when I returned from my field tests and seemed very interested in what I was doing.” A light dawned in the professor's eyes. “I see! You think he was an informant for Oceanus?”

  "I don't know for certain, but I was told that he worked for

  Oceanus during the construction of the fish farm. It's certainly pos- sible that he continued to be employed by the company after the plant was built."

  Jorgensen frowned. “Have you mentioned this episode to the police?”

  “Not just yet. Technically speaking, I was trespassing on private property.”

  “But you don't try to /fill somebody simply for being nosy!” “That does seem like an overreaction. However, I can't see the Faroe police department pushing the matter. Oceanus would deny that our little dust-off ever took place. The way they reacted to a lit- tle harmless snooping tells me they must have something to hide. I'd like to poke around quietly, and the police would simply stir things up.”

  “As you wish. I know little about intrigue. My realm is science.” His brow wrinkled in thought. “That creature in the tank that scared the devil out of you. You don't think it was a shark?”

  “All I know is that it was big and hungry and as pale as a ghost.” “A ghost fish. Interesting. I'll have to think about it. In the mean- time, I'll prepare for my return trip to the Faroes.”

  "Are you sure you want to go? It might be dangerous after my en- counter.

  “This time, I'm going in a research vessel. Besides safety in num- bers, it will provide access to a full range of research gear. I'd love to bring along an archaeologist to research those caves.”

  “Not a great idea, Professor, but there's someone in town who might be helpful in that area. Her father visited the caves, and she told me how to gain entry. Her name is Pia.”

  “The minister's widow?”

  “Yes, you've met her? She's quite a woman.”

  “I'll say,” Jorgensen said, before catching himself. The blush stain- ing his cheeks told the whole story. “We've met a few times around the village. She's impossible to avoid. Can you change your plans and return to Skaalshavn with me?”

  Austin shook his head. “Thanks for the offer. But I've got to get back to my duties at NUMA. I'm leaving Joe to wrap up the tests on the Sea Lamprey. Please keep me apprised of your findings.”

  “I will, of course.” Jorgensen cradled his chin in his hand, and a faraway look came to his eyes.

  “My scientific training abhors the whole idea of portents. I am trained to draw no conclusion unless I have the facts to back it up. There's something terribly wrong here, Kurt. I can feel it in my bones. Something unholy”

  “If it's any consolation, I've had the same feeling. It goes beyond a bunch of guys running around with guns.” He leaned forward with a level gaze in his blue-green eyes. “I'd like you to promise me some- thing when you go back to Skaalshavn.”

  “Of course, my boy. Anything you say.”

  “Take care, Professor,” Austin said, in a firm manner that left no room for misunderstanding. “Tsike great care.”

  NUMA 4 - White Death

  17

  THE SENSE OF foreboding continued to haunt Austin even after he stepped outside Jorgensen's office building into the bright Danish sunlight. Several times during the cab ride back to the hotel, he found himself glancing through the rear window. He gave up finally and sat back to enjoy the ride. If danger were stalk- ing him, he would never see it with all the traffic.

  Austin stopped at the clothing store to pick up his purchases. He carried the neatly tied boxes to his room and called Therri. It was 5:30. “I have a room one floor below yours. I think I can hear you singing in joyful anticipation of our dinner.”

  “Then you must have also heard me dancing as well.” “It's amazing how my charm affects women,” Austin said. “I'll meet you in the lobby. We could make believe that we're old lovers encountering each other by chance.”

  “You're a surprising romantic, Mr. Austin.”

  “I've been called worse things. You'll know me by the red carna- tion in my lapel.”

  When the elevator doors opened, Therri stepped out as if she were on stage and immediately caught the attention of every male in the vicinity, including Austin. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she glided across the lobby. Therri's chestnut hair tumbled down to the thin straps other white ankle-length lace dress that clung to her slim waist and thighs.

  Her warm smile showed that Therri approved other date as well. She surveyed the European-styled single-breasted jacket of dove gray whose slightly pinched waist emphasized Austin's shoulders like a military uniform. The blue shirt and white silk tie set off his deep tan, coral-colored eyes and pale hair. Pinned to his lapel was a red carna- tion.

  She extended her hand, which Austin kissed lightly. “What a lovely surprise,” she said in an upper-class British accent. “I haven't seen you since-”

  “Biarritz. Or was it Casablanca?”

  Therri put her wrist to her forehead. “Oh, who can say? One place blends with the other over time, don't you agree?”

  Austin leaned close to her ear and whispered, “We'll always have Marrakech.”

  Then he hooked her arm in his, and they strolled out the door as if they had known each other for ages. They walked across the busy square toward Tivoli, the famed nineteenth-century amusement park known for its rides and entertainment. The lively park was ablaze with neon and filled with visitors taking in the theater, dance and symphony music. They stopped to watch a folk-dance troupe for a few minutes. Therri suggested that they have dinner at a restaurant with an outdoor terrace, and they were seated at a table that had a view of the Ferris wheel.

  Austin picked up the menu. “Since you chose the restaurant, I'll make the dinner selections, if you don't mind.”

  “Not at all. I've been subsisting onsmorrebrod sandwiches.” When the waiter came over, Austin ordered tiny fjord shrimps as an appetizer. For the main course, he ordered flaelesteg, roast pork served with crackling and cabbage, for himself, and morbradbof, small pork fillets in mushroom sauce, for Therri. Then for drinks, he picked Carlsberg pils
ner beer rather than wine.

  “You placed that order rather deftly,” Therri said admiringly. "I cheated. I came to this same restaurant the last time I was in

  Copenhagen on a NUMA assignment."

  “Great minds, as they say.” They toasted each other with their foamy glasses and sipped the cool, crisp beer. The shrimp came. Therri closed her eyes with pleas- ure after the first bite. “This is wonderful.”

  “The secret of cooking fish is to never let the flavoring drown out the subtle taste. This is flavored with lime and spiced with fresh pepper.”

  “One more thing to add to my thank-you list.”

  “Your good mood seems to go beyond the food. Your meeting with Becker went well, I take it.”

  “Your friend Mr. Becker was actually quite charming. He can't speak highly enough of you and was very impressed with the photos you took of the Sea Sentinel. At my urging, they checked out the Sen- tinel for themselves and found it had been sabotaged exactly as you described. We came to terms. They agreed to drop the charges against Marcus.”

  “Congratulations. No strings attached?”

  “A whole ball of twine. Marcus and anyone associated with SOS, including yours truly, must be out of Denmark within the next forty- eight hours. We're booked to fly home on the Concorde tomorrow.”

  “The Concorde? SOS doesn't stint when it comes to travel, does it?” She shrugged. “The people who contribute millions to SOS don't seem to mind it, as long as the oceans are protected.”

  “I'll try that line with the NUMA bean counters who keep an eye on the travel budget. You'll be having lunch at Kinkaid's while I'm dining on rubber chicken at thirty-five thousand feet. Tell me, what other conditions did Becker impose?”

  “No press conferences allowed on Danish soil. There can be no at- tempts to salvage the Sea Sentinel. And the only way we will ever step foot in Denmark is if we smuggle ourselves in as guest workers. Again, I can't thank you enough for all you've done.”

  “Everything comes with a price. Tell me all you know about Oceanus.”