White Death

by Clive Cussler

  “Of course, I'll be glad to. As I said last time, Oceanus is a multi- national corporation dealing in fish products and transport. It oper- ates fleets of fishing boats and transport vessels around the world.”

  “That could describe a dozen corporations.” Austin smiled. “Why do I have the feeling you're hiding something?”

  Therri looked shocked. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to someone who's used to dealing with people who think that telling some of the truth gets them off the hook for all of it.”

  She frowned and said, “I deserved that. It's an old lawyer habit. We attorneys like to keep something in reserve. SOS is very much in your debt. What would you like to know?”

  “Who owns the company, for starters?”

  “SOS asked itself the same question. We ran into a thicket of in- tertwining shadow corporations, paper companies and murky trusts. One name kept coming up: Toonook.”

  “Huh. That name reminds me of a film I saw when I was a kid, an old documentary called Nanoo/ of the North. Is he an Eskimo?” “That's my guess. We can't confirm it, but we dug up some cir- cumstantial evidence pointing in that direction. It took an incredible amount of research. We learned that he's a Canadian citizen, and that he's very good at keeping his face hidden. That's all I can tell you about him, and that's the whole truth.”

  Austin nodded, thinking about the swarthy dark-skinned guards who'd shot at him. “Let's go back to Oceanus. What first brought them to the attention of SOS?”

  "They were one of the few companies that ignored our Faroes

  boycott. We'd been aware offish-farming as an environmental issue, but it was the company's attempts to hide its operations that got Mar- cus interested. When he learned about the fish farm in the Faroes, he thought that he might stir things up if he focused the spotlight on the operation."

  "There are two ships on the bottom of the ocean that prove he was right.

  “Let me ask you something,” Therri said, leveling her gaze. “What do you know about Oceanus that you haven't told me?”

  “Fair enough. While you were negotiating with Mr. Becker, I poked into an Oceanus fish farm in the Faroes.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  Austin felt a twinge of pain in his chest wound. “I learned that they don't like people poking into their business. I'd advise you and your friends to give them a wide berth.”

  “Now who's the evasive one?”

  Austin only smiled. As much as he wanted to trust Therri, he did not know the extent of her loyalty to SOS and its leader. “I've told you enough to keep you out of trouble.”

  “You must know that throwing me a tidbit of information is only going to stir up my curiosity.”

  “Just remember that curiosity killed the cat. I wouldn't want to see you suffer a similar fate.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” She smiled her beguiling smile.

  “You're welcome. Maybe we can continue this conversation when we get back to Washington.”

  “I can think of any number of hotel lobbies that would be conducive to an accidental rendezvous. We can pledge not to talk business.”

  “Let's begin now.” Austin signaled the waiter and ordered two Peter Heering cherry liqueurs.

  “What would you like to talk about, then?” Therri said. “Tell me about SOS.”

  “That could be construed as business.”

  “Okay, I'll ask you a personal question. How did you come to be involved with the Sentinels?”

  “Fate,” she said with a smile. “Before I became a whale-hugger, I was a tree-hugger. My future was ordained from the moment of birth. My folks named me Thoreau after Henry David.”

  “I wondered where the Therri came from.”

  "I suppose I was lucky they didn't name me Henry. My father was an environmental activist before there was such a thing. My mother was from an old Yankee family that got rich on slaves and rum. When I graduated from Harvard Law School, it was expected that

  I go into the family guilt business. My turn now. How did you get Into NUMA?"

  Austin gave Therri the Cliffs Notes version of his career.

  “There's an unaccountable gap in time in your life history,” she said.

  "You're much too alert. I worked for the CIA during that period.

  My division was disbanded after the Cold War ended. Can't tell you more than that."

  “That's all right,” she said. “An air of mystery adds to your at- tractiveness.”

  Austin felt like an outfielder about to catch an easy pop fly. Therri had moved the conversation to a slightly more intimate level, and he was about to respond in kind when he noticed her looking over his shoulder. He turned and saw Marcus Ryan making his way toward their table.

  “Therri!” Ryan said, with his matinee-idol smile. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Hello, Marcus. You remember Kurt Austin from the hearing in Torshavn.”

  “Of course! Mr. Austin gave the only unbiased testimony during that whole fiasco.”

  “Why don't you join us?” Therri said. “You don't mind, do you, Kurt?”

  Austin minded very much. The encounter smelled strongly of a staged meeting, but he was curious about the reason for the setup. He motioned to a chair and shook hands with Ryan. The grip was sur- prisingly firm.

  “Only for a minute,” Ryan said. “I don't want to intrude on your dinner, but I'm glad for the opportunity to thank Mr. Austin for helping SOS.”

  “Your appreciation is misdirected. I didn't do it to help SOS. It was a personal favor for Miss Weld. She's the one who persuaded me to take a close look at your boat.”

  “I don't know of many people who can resist her persuasiveness, and she deserves a lot of credit. Nevertheless, you did a great service for the creatures of the sea.”

  “Spare me the hearts and flowers, Mr. Ryan. I gave Therri the ev- idence of sabotage because it was the right thing to do, not because I believe in your cause.”

  “Then you know I had no responsibility for that collision.” “I know that you purposely ratcheted up the tension, hoping some- thing would happen so you could get it on the TV cameras.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures. From what I know about NUMA, your organization isn't above using unorthodox methods to achieve its goals.”

  “There's a big difference. Every one of us, right up to Admiral Sandecker, is ready to bear responsibility for our actions. We don't take refuge behind posters of puppy-faced little harp seals.”

  Ryan's face turned the color of a cooked beet. “I've always been willing to take the consequences for my actions.”

  “Sure, as long as you knew there was a way out.”

  Ryan smiled over his anger. “You're a difficult man, Mr. Austin.”

  “I try to be.”

  The waiter arrived just then with their dinners.

  “Well, I won't spoil your evening,” Ryan said. “It was fun talking to you, Mr. Austin. I'll give you a call later, Them.”

  With a jaunty wave, he joined the throngs moving past the restau- rant.

  Austin watched Ryan depart and said, “Your friend takes an ex- alted view of himself. I thought the oceans already had a god. Nep- tune or Poseidon, depending on your language of choice.”

  He expected Therri to defend Ryan, but she laughed instead. “Congratulations, Kurt. It's nice to know that Marcus isn't the only one who has a talent for irritating people.”

  “It comes naturally to me. You should tell him that the next time you set up an accidental meeting.”

  She glanced at the Ferris wheel, avoiding his steady gaze, then toyed with her fork before answering. “Was it that transparent?”

  “Any more transparent and it would be invisible.”

  She sighed heavily. “Sorry for the clumsy attempt to deceive you. You didn't deserve it. Marcus wanted to meet you so he could thank you. He was sincere about that. I didn't expect you to get into a spit- ting match. Please accept my apology.”


  “Only if you'll have a nightcap in the Palace lounge after we take a long walk around the neighborhood.” “You drive a hard bargain.” Austin gave her a devilish grin. “As your friend Mr. Ryan said, I'm a difficult man.”

  NUMA 4 - White Death

  18

  COPENHAGEN SEEMED TO be in the midst of a major cel- ebration, but the bash was only a normal night in one of Eu- rope's liveliest cities. Music issued from dozens of cafes. The parks and squares along an expansive pedestrian mall named Stroget teemed with strollers and street performers. The party atmosphere was fun, but it was hard to carry on a conversation. Austin suggested that they turn down a quiet street lined with closed boutiques and make their way back to the hotel.

  The deserted street was dark except for a few shop windows and softly glowing gas lamps. Austin was listening to Therri tell an an- ecdote about Becker, when he noticed movement ahead and saw two figures step out of the shadows into a puddle of yellow light.

  Austin knew the Danes to be low-key and extra polite, and Copen- hagen was relatively crime-free. It didn't bother him when the two men took up a stance blocking the sidewalk. Maybe they'd had too much Akavit. He took Therri s arm and prepared to walk around the pair. He reassessed the situation when the men produced long clubs from behind their backs.

  Hearing a scraping footfall, Austin glanced over his shoulder. Two more men, also wielding clubs, were approaching from behind. Therri had become aware of the threat without comprehending it and had stopped talking. In what looked like a rehearsed strategy, the men began to encircle them.

  Austin looked around for a weapon. Figuring that anything was better than nothing, he grabbed the lid from a row of trash cans. The heavy-duty cover was made of thick, solid aluminum, he was glad to see. He stepped protectively in front of Therri and used the lid like a medieval infantryman's shield to fend off a clanging blow from the nearest attacker. The man brought the club up to strike again, but Austin went from defense to offense and straight-armed the heavy lid into the attacker's face. The man yelped with pain, and his knees buckled. Austin lifted the lid in both hands and brought it down on the man's head, where it made a sound like a gong. His hands hurt at the shock of the impact, but the attacker was even worse off, crum- pling onto the sidewalk in a dark heap.

  Another attacker swiftly closed in. Austin jammed the lid in his face, but the attacker anticipated the move, stepping back out of range and clubbing the lid harmlessly aside. Austin was trying to keep the tender left side of his rib from being hit. The assailant sensed a weakness and landed a glancing blow to Austin's head. Austin saw whirling galaxies. At the same time, he heard Therri's scream. One attacker held her while the other pulled her back by the hair to expose her throat. A hard blow to her windpipe could be fatal.

  Austin blinked the stars from his eyes and tried to go to her aid. His assailant stepped in front of him and brought his club down as if he were wielding a two-handed broadsword. Austin deflected the blow, but it knocked the lid from his hand, and he lost his balance. Down on one knee, Austin raised his arm to protect his head. He saw wide faces and glittering eyes, clubs raised in the air, and braced him- self for a shower of blows to rain down on his skull. Instead, he heard thuds and grunts and men yelling in two different languages, one in- comprehensible, the other Spanish. The attackers who had encircled him melted away like snowflakes.

  He struggled to his feet and saw figures running away from him. Clubs rattled to the pavement. Shadows were moving in every direc- tion, and he was reminded of the scene in the movie Ghost where the shades of the dead take the damned to the underworld. Then the shad- ows disappeared. He and Therri were alone, except for the slumped form of the man he had clouted. The attacker's friends had apparently abandoned him.

  'Are you all right?" Austin said, taking Them's arm.

  'Yes, I'm fine, but as you can tell, I'm very shaky. What about you:-

  He lightly touched the side of his head. “My head feels like raw hamburger and my skull is full of twittering sparrows, but other than that I'm fine. It could have been worse.”

  “I lnow she said with a shudder. ”Thank goodness those men saved us."

  “What men? I was a little busy with my imitation oflvanhoe.” “They came out of nowhere. I think there were two of them. They went after the others and chased them away.”

  Austin kicked the battered trash-can lid. “Hell, I thought I scared them off with my head-masher.” He brushed the dirt off his ripped and dirty pants. “Damn, this is the first new suit I've bought in years.”

  Therri couldn't help laughing. “Incredible. You narrowly missed being beaten to death, and you're worried about your suit.” She em- braced him in a warm hug.

  Therri was holding him tightly. He didn't even complain about the pressure of her body against his knife wound. He was thinking that she smelled very good, when suddenly she stiffened, backed away from him and looked over his shoulder with horror in her eyes.

  “Kurt, watch out!”

  Austin turned and saw that the attacker who'd been lying on the sidewalk was slowly getting to his feet. The man stared at them for a few seconds, apparently still dazed. Austin clenched his fists and started toward the man, ready to send him back to la-la land. He stopped in midstep when a small circle of intense red appeared in the man's forehead.

  “Get down!” Austin yelled at Therri. When she hesitated, he pulled her to the sidewalk, shielding her body with his.

  The man started toward them, then he stopped as if he had walked into an invisible wall, went down on his knees and fell face down onto the sidewalk. Austin heard footsteps and saw a figure running down the street. Austin pulled Therri to her feet and apologized for knocking her down.

  “What happened?” She seemed to be in a daze.

  “Someone shot our friend. I saw the spot from a laser sight.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Maybe his company has a strict severance policy.”

  “Or maybe they didn't want him talking,” she said, staring at the dead body.

  “Either way, this isn't a healthy place to be.”

  Austin took Therri by the arm and guided her away from the scene. He kept a sharp eye out for a return of their attackers, not re- laxing until the lights of the Palace Hotel were in sight. The hotel cocktail lounge seemed like another world. Austin and Therri sat in a corner booth surrounded by the cheerful Babel of voices and the tinkling of a jazz piano playing Cole Porter. Austin had ordered two double scotches.

  Therri took a deep swallow other drink and looked around at the other patrons. “Did that really happen out there in the street?”

  “It wasn't a production of West Side Story, if that's what you mean. Can you tell me what you remember?”

  “It all happened so fast. Two of those men with the clubs grabbed me.” She frowned. “Loo what those SOBs did to my hair.” Anger was replacing her fear. “Who were those jerks?”

  “The attack was well-coordinated. They knew we were in Copen- hagen and must have been watching us tonight in order to set up the ambush. What's your guess?”

  She replied without hesitation. “Oceanus?”

  Austin nodded grimly. “As I learned in the Faroes, Oceanus has the thug power, the violent inclination and the organization. What happened next?”

  “They let me go. Just like that. Then they were running away, with the other men chasing after them.” She shook her head. “I wish our Good Samaritans had stayed so I could thank them. Should we tell the police what happened?”

  “Normally, I'd say yes. But I don't know if it would do any good. They might pass it off as an attempted mugging. Given your rela- tionship with the Danish authorities, you might be detained here longer than you'd like.”

  “You're right,” Therri said. She drained the last other glass. “I'd better get back to my room. My flight leaves early in the morning.”

  Austin walked Therri to her door, where they paused. “You're sure you'll be okay?”

&nb
sp; "Yes, I'm fine. Thanks for the interesting evening. You certainly

  know how to show a girl a good time."

  “That was nothing. Just wait until our next date.” She smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can hardly wait.” He was impressed at how quickly Therri had recovered. She was proving to be an iron butterfly. “Call me if you need anything.”

  She nodded. Austin wished her a good night's sleep and headed for the elevator. She watched until the elevator doors had closed. Then she pulled her key out of the lock, walked down the hall and knocked on another door, which was opened by Marcus Ryan. His smile disappeared when he saw the strain in her face. “Are you all right?” he said with concern in his voice. “You look a little pale.”

  “Nothing a little makeup won't cure.” She brushed by him and stretched out on the sofa. “Whip me up a strong cup of tea, then have a seat and I'll tell you all about it.”

  They sat down, and she told them about their attack and rescue.

  After hearing her story, Ryan tented his fingers and stared off into space. “Austin is right. It's Oceanus. Vmsure of it.” “Me too. I'm less sure who our rescuers were.” “Austin didn't know who they were?” She shook her head. “He said no.”

  “Was he telling the truth?” "He may suspect who they were, but I didn't press him on that.

  Kurt doesn't strike me as someone who lies."

  "Well, well, my tough-minded legal counsel has a soft side after

  all. You like him, don't you?" Ryan said with a foxy grin.

  “I won't deny it. He's-different.”

  “I'm different, too, you must admit.”

  “That you are,” she said with a smile. “That's why we're profes- sional colleagues and not lovers.”

  Ryan sighed theatrically. “Guess I'm fated to be a bridesmaid, never a bride.”

  “You'd make a hideous bride. Besides, you had your chance to be a bride. As you recall, I didn't like playing second fiddle to SOS.”

  “Didn't blame you. I am something of a warrior monk when it comes to the Sentinels.”

  “Crap! Don't give me that monk stuff. I happen to know you've got a girlfriend in every port.”