water. We'd sink the ship and us."
"If it makes you feel any better, press that button. It sends up a warning buoy to the surface. Flares, whistles. The whole nine yards."
Austin punched the button. There was a swoosh as the buoy was ejected from the sub. He advised their passengers to hold tight.
Zavala jerked his thumb skyward, a boyish grin on his face.
"Going up" He hit the switch and they braced themselves. The only sound was Zavala swearing under his breath in Spanish. "The switch didn't work," he said with a sheepish grin.
"Let's see if I can summarize this. We're three hundred feet down, with overloaded capacity, the cabin full of half-dead sailors, and the panic button doesn't work."
"You have a knack for brevity, Kurt."
"Thanks. I'll expand further. We've got two front tanks full of water, two rear ones empty, and that spells neutral buoyancy. Any way of lightening the Lamprey?"
"I can jettison the connector tube. We'll get to the surface, but it won't be pretty."
"Doesn't seem we have much of an alternative. I'll tell our pas- sengers to hold on."
Austin made his announcement, buckled himself into his seat and gave the signal. Zavala crossed his fingers and blew off the rescue tube. It had been made detachable as a precaution, in case the sub- mersible had to extricate itself from a rescue in a hurry. There was a muffled explosion, and the submersible lurched. The Sea Lamprey rose a foot, then a yard, then several yards. Their progress was ex- cruciatingly slow at first, but the craft gained more speed the higher it went. Before long, it was speeding to the surface.
The Sea Lamprey exploded from the sea stern-first and splashed down in a fountain of white water. The vehicle rolled violently, toss- ing those inside around like dice in a shaker. Alerted by the warning buoy's sound-and-light show, small boats dashed in and their crews attached pontoons that stabilized the craft in a more or less horizon- tal position.
The Thor got a line on the vehicle and hauled the Sea Lamprey close to where a crane could lift it to the deck. Medical personnel swarmed over the submersible the second the hatch was popped, and the sur- vivors were extracted one by one, loaded onto stretchers and hustled onto waiting MediVac helicopters that transferred them to the land hospital. By the time Austin and Zavala climbed from the sub- mersible, the deck was practically deserted, except for a handful of crew who came over and congratulated them, then quickly left.
Zavala looked around the near-empty deck. "No brass band?"
"Heroism is its own reward," Austin said pontifically. "But I wouldn't turn down a shot oftequila if someone offered it to me."
"What a coincidence. I just happen to have a bottle of blue agave tucked away in my duffel bag. Primo stuff."
"We may have to delay our celebration. Mr. Becker is coming our way."
The Danish bureaucrat was striding across the deck, his face beaming with unmistakable happiness. He pumped their hands, pounded the NUMA men on the back and showered them with ef- fusive praise.
"Gentlemen, I thank you," he said breathlessly. "Denmark thanks you. The world thanks you!"
"Our pleasure," Austin said. "Thanks for the opportunity to test the Sea Lamprey under actual conditions. The Russian chopper is at the NATO base with the transport planes. We'll give them a call, and we can be out of here in a few hours."
Becker's face reassumed its usual mask of businesslike dourness. "Mr. Zavala is free to go, but I'm afraid you might have to delay your trip. A special investigative court that was formed to look into the cruiser incident is convening a hearing in Torshavn tomorrow. They would like you to testify."
"Don't see how I can help. I didn't see the actual sinking."
"Yes, but you dove on the Eri/yson twice. You can describe the damage in detail. It will help make our case." Seeing the doubt in Austin's face, he said, "I'm afraid we'll have to insist that you be our guest in the Islands until the hearing is terminated. Cheer up. The U.S. embassy has been informed of our request and will transmit it to NUMA. I've already arranged lodging for you. We'll be staying in the same hotel, in fact. The Islands are beautiful, and you'll only be delayed a day or two before you can rejoin your ship."
"It's no problem for me, Kurt," Zavala said. "I can get the Lam- prey back to the Beebe and wrap up the tests."
Austin's eyes flashed with anger. He didn't like being told what to do by an officious little government drone. He made no effort to dis- guise the annoyance in his voice. "Looks like I'll be your guest, Mr. Becker." He turned to Zavala. "We'll have to put off our celebration. I'll call the NATO base and get things moving."
Before long, the engine roar of the huge Russian helicopter filled the air. The sling was attached under the Sea Lamprey's belly, and the helicopter lifted the vehicle from the ship's deck. Then Zavala took off in the NUMA helicopter and followed the submersible back to the base where the sub would be loaded onto a transport plane for the return trip.
"One other thing," Becker said. "I'd like you to keep that re- markable suit on board in case the court has the need for further ev- idence. If not, we'll gladly ship it anywhere you wish."
"You want me to make another dive?"
"Possibly. I would clear it with your superiors, of course."
"Of course," Austin said. He was too tired to argue.
The captain came over and announced that the shuttle was ready to take them back to the mainland. Austin wasn't enthusiastic about spending any more time than he had to with the Danish bureaucrat. "I'll come ashore tomorrow if it's all right with you. Captain Larsen wants to show me some of the results of his whale research."
The captain saw the desperation in Austin's eyes and played along. "Oh yes, as I said, you'll find our work fascinating. I'll deliver Mr. Austin to shore in the morning."
Becker shrugged. "Suit yourself I've spent enough time at sea to last me a lifetime."
Austin watched the shuttle boat head toward land and turned to the captain. "Thanks for rescuing me from Mr. Becker."
Larsen sighed heavily. "I suppose bureaucrats like Becker have a value in the scheme of things."
"So do the stomach bacteria that aid in digestion," Austin said.
The captain laughed and put his hand on Austin's shoulder. "I think a liquid celebration of your successful mission is in order."
"I think you're right," Austin said.
7
AUSTIN RECEIVED V IP treatment aboard the research ves- sel. After drinks in the captain's cabin, he enjoyed a delicious meal, then he was entertained with incredible underwater footage of the ship's whale research. He was given a comfortable cabin and slept like a log, and the next morning he said his farewell to Captain Larsen.
The captain seemed sorry to see him go. "We're going to be here a few days doing survey work on the cruiser. Let me know if there is anything I can ever do for you or for NUMA."
They shook hands and Austin climbed into the shuttle for the short trip to the Western Harbor. Happy to be on dry land once more after weeks on and under the sea, he made his way along the cob- blestone quay past the line of fishing boats. The capital city of the Faroe Islands was named Torshavn, "Thor's Harbor," after the mightiest of the Scandinavian gods. Despite its thundering namesake, Torshavn was a quiet settlement located on a headland between two busy boat harbors.
Austin would have preferred to explore the narrow streets that ran between the colorful old houses, but a glance at his watch told him he had better get moving if he wanted to make the hearing. He dropped his duffel bag off at the hotel room that Becker had arranged for him. He figured he wouldn't be in the Faroes more than another day or so, and decided to leave whether Becker wanted him to or not. On his way out, he asked the desk to book him a flight to Copen- hagen in two days.
His destination was a short walk up the hill toward Vaglio Square in the heart of the city's commercial center. A few minutes later, he stopped in front of an impressive nineteenth-century building built ofdark-hued basalt. The plaque on
the exterior identified the struc- ture as the Raohus, or Town Hall. He mentally girded his loins for the ordeal ahead. As an employee of a federal agency, Austin was no stranger to the hazards of navigating governmental seas. The rescue of the men trapped in the LeifErisson might have been the easiest part of his Faroese adventure, he reflected.
The receptionist in the Raohus lobby told Austin how to get to the hearing room. He followed a corridor to a door guarded by a burly policeman and identified himself. The officer told him to wait and slipped into the room. He reappeared a moment later with Becker. Taking Austin by the arm, Becker moved out of earshot.
"Good to see you again, Mr. Austin." He glanced at the policeman and lowered his voice. "This matter requires a great deal of delicacy. Do you know anything about the Faroe Islands government?"
"Only that there's an affiliation with Denmark. I don't know the details."
"Correct. The Islands are part of the Kingdom of Denmark, but they have had home rule since 1948. They're quite independent, even keeping their own language. However, when they get into financial trouble, they don't hesitate to ask Copenhagen for money," he said, with a faint smile. "This incident occurred in Faroese waters, but a
Danish warship was involved."
"Which means SOS wouldn't win any popularity contests in Den- mark."
Becker brushed off his comment with an airy wave. "I've made my feelings clear. Those crazy people should be hanged for sinking our ship. But I am a realist. The whole regrettable incident would never have happened if it hadn't been for the Islanders' stubbornness in keeping their old customs."
"You mean the whale hunt?"
"I won't comment on the morality of the grindarap. Many in Den- mark regard the grind as a barbaric and unnecessary ritual. More important are the economic considerations. Companies that might buy Faroese fish or explore for oil don't want the public to think they are doing business with whale murderers. When the Faroese can't pay their bills, Copenhagen must open its pocketbook."
"So much for independence."
Becker smiled again. "The Danish government wants to resolve this case quickly, with the minimum amount of international pub- licity. We don't want these SOS people seen as courageous martyrs who acted rashly but in defense of helpless creatures."
"What do you want from me?"
"Please go beyond your technical observations in your testimony. We know what sank the cruiser. Feel free to emphasize the human suffering you witnessed. Our goal is to convict Ryan in the court of public opinion, then get these reckless hooligans out of our country and make sure they don't come back. We want to make sure that the world sees them as pariahs rather than martyrs. Perhaps then, some- thing like this won't happen again."
"Suppose Ryan is innocent in all this?"
"His innocence or guilt is of no concern to my government. There are greater issues at stake."
"As you say, a matter of great delicacy. I'll tell your people what I saw. That's all I can promise.
Becker nodded. "Fair enough. Shall we go in?"
The policeman opened the door, and Becker and Austin stepped inside the hearing room. Austin's eyes swept around the large dark- paneled chamber and took in the suits, presumably government and legal people, who filled several rows of chairs. He was wearing his usual working gear of jeans, turtleneck and windbreaker, having no need on board ship for dressier outfits. More suits sat behind a long wooden table at the front of the room. Sitting in a chair to the right of the table was a man in a uniform. He was speaking in Danish, his words taken down by a stenographer.
Becker indicated a seat, sat next to Austin, and whispered in his ear. "That's the representative from the coast guard. You're next."
The coast guard witness concluded a few minutes later, and Austin heard his own name called. Four men and two women sat at the table, with the group evenly divided between Faroese and Danish representatives. The magistrate, an avuncular Dane with a long Viking face, said his name was Lundgren. He explained to Austin that he would ask questions, with the others on the board offering follow-up. This was only an inquiry to collect an informational base, not a trial, he explained, so there would be no cross-examination. He would also translate when necessary.
Austin eased into the chair, and under questioning, offered a straightforward account of the rescue. He didn't have to embellish the suffering or the crew's ordeal in its dark and practically airless tomb. The expression on Becker's face showed that he was pleased with what he heard. Austin stepped down after forty-five minutes, with the thanks of the board. He was anxious to leave, but decided to stay when the court's chairman announced, in Danish and Eng- lish, that the captain of the Sea Sentinel would present his case.
Austin was curious how anyone could defend himself against eye- witness accounts. The door opened and two policemen walked in. Between them was a tall and ruggedly built man in his mid-forties. Austin took in the ginger Captain Ahab chin-fringe, the coifed hair and the gilt-trimmed uniforrri.
The magistrate asked the witness to sit down and introduce him- self.
"My name is Marcus Ryan," the man said, his gray eyes making direct contact with those in the audience. "I am the executive direc- tor of the Sentinels of the Sea organization and captain of the SOS flagship, the Sea Sentinel. For those who don't know us, SOS is an in- ternational organization dedicated to the preservation of the sea and the marine life that dwells within it."
"Please give the court an account of the events surrounding your collision with the Danish cruiser Leif Eriksson/'
Ryan started into a diatribe against the whale hunt. Speaking in a firm voice, the magistrate asked him to keep his remarks confined to the collision. Ryan apologized and described how the Sea Sentinel had suddenly veered toward the cruiser, striking it.
"Captain Ryan," Lundgren said with unconcealed amusement. "Do you mean to tell me that your ship attached and rammed the Leif Eriksson of its own accord?"
For the first time since he'd started testifying, Ryan lost his aplomb. "Uh, no, sir. I'm telling you that the controls of my ship did not respond."
"Let me see if I understand this clearly," said a woman on the board of inquiry. "You are saying that the ship took control of itself and went off on its merry way."
There was a ripple of laughter in the audience. "It seems so," Ryan conceded.
His admission opened the doors for a round of probing questions. The hearing may not have been adversarial, Austin thought, but the court was nibbling Ryan apart like a flock of hungry ducks. Ryan did his best to parry the questions, but with each reply, his case became weaker. Finally he lifted his hands, as if to say enough.
"I realize that my explanation raises more questions than it an- swers. But let me say this unequivocally, so there is no misunder- standing. We did not deliberately ram the Danish ship. I have witnesses who can back me up. You can check with Captain Pe- tersen. He'll tell you that I warned him."
"How long before the collision did this warning occur?" Lundgren asked.
Ryan took a deep breath and let it out. "Less than a minute before we hit."
Lundgren asked no further questions. Ryan was excused, and the female reporter from CNN took the stand. She was calm during her recounting of the collision, but she broke down and glared at Ryan with accusing eyes when she described the death other cameraman.
Lundgren signaled a court officer to insert a videotape into a TV set that had been set off to one side where everyone had a good view of the screen. The tape began to roll. It showed Ryan standing on the deck of his ship surrounded by reporters and photographers. There was some joking about rough seas, then the reporter's voice saying:
"Just make sure the story is worth all the damned Dramamine I swallowed."
The camera executed a close-up of Ryan's grinning face as he replied: "I can almost guarantee that you'll see action." As the cam- era followed his finger pointing toward the Danish cruiser, there was a muttering in the audience. That's it, Austin thought. Ryan is toa
st.
The tape ended, and Lundgren asked the reporter one question. "Was that your voice on the tape?"
When the reporter replied in the affirmative, Ryan sprang to his feet.
"That's unfair. You're using my comment completely out of con- text !"
"Please be seated, Mr. Ryan," Lundgren said, a bemused expres- sion on his face.
Ryan realized his outburst would bolster the image of a hothead capable of ramming a ship. He regained his composure. "My apolo- gies, sir. I was not told that the video would be introduced into evi- dence. I hope I will have the chance to comment on it."
"This is not an American court of law, but you will have every op- portunity to make your side known before this hearing is adjourned. The board will hear from Captain Petersen and his crew as soon as they are able. You will remain in protective custody at the police sta- tion until then. We will do our best to expedite the process."
Clive Cussler - KA04 - White Death Page 7
