White Death nf-4

by Clive Cussler

  strode over to where Austin stood and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

  "Mr. Austin," he said cheerfully. "How nice to see you again. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you to the ambassador, but he was late for a meeting. Come this way."

  Aguirrez led Austin down a hallway to a door into what had been a drawing room in one of the old houses that were part of the em- bassy complex. The centerpiece was an oversized marble fireplace, and the room itself was comfortably appointed with plush rugs and heavy, dark wood furniture. Oil paintings of Spanish rural scenes decorated the walls.

  As they took their seats, Aguirrez evidently noted the wondering look on Austin's face, because he said, "You look puzzled, Mr. Austin."

  Austin saw no reason to beat around the bush. "I'm surprised to find you here-a man accused of being a Basque terrorist within the walls of the Spanish Embassy."

  Aguirrez didn't seem offended. "You have obviously looked into my background, which I expected, so you know that the accusations have not been substantiated."

  "Still, I noticed that you're not wearing your black beret." Aguirrez gave out a booming laugh. "In deference to my hosts, I have shed my chapeau, although I miss wearing it. I think that some in this building might think I had a bomb under the beret, and their nervousness would interfere with our work."

  "Which is?"

  "To settle the Basque problem peacefully once and for all."

  "That's a tall order after hundreds of years of conflict."

  "I'm confident it can be accomplished."

  "What happened to your ancestral quest?"

  "The past and the present are inseparable in this cause. The Basque separatists want a homeland. The Spanish government has experi- mented with autonomy, with unfortunate results. If I find the relics I am looking for, their discovery could set off an emotional wave of Basque nationalism. I know my people. It would tear Spain apart."

  "So you have suddenly become very important to the Spanish gov- ernment."

  He nodded. "I have met with high-level officials in Madrid who asked me to inform your State Department people of the situation and assure them I am not a terrorist. I have agreed, once I find the relics, to put them in safekeeping."

  "What's to prevent you from going back on your word?"

  The Basque frowned, and a dangerous expression came to his dark eyes. "It is a logical question, and one the Spanish government also asked. I told them that I will honor the memory of my ancestor, who was chosen to be the guardian of the relics. In return, the Span- ish government will take graduated, meaningful steps toward Basque autonomy."

  "You're using the relics as leverage?"

  He shrugged. "I prefer to call it a solution that takes into account our mutual interests."

  "Not a bad deal, considering the fact that you don't have the relics."

  "A technicality," he said, the broad smile returning. "I have un- earthed information on the sea routes my ancestor took to the New World. The Basques were in the Faroes as early as 875. After stop- ping at the Faroes, Diego would head for Newfoundland or Labrador. There is ample precedent for this theory. My people fished for cod and whales off North America as far back as the Middle Ages."

  "I've read that Cabot found Indians using words that could have had a Basque origin."

  "No doubt about it!" he said, his face flushing with excitement. "My research indicates that there are some unexplored caves near Channel-Port aux Basques in Newfoundland. I will rejoin my yacht there as soon as I clear up my business here, and I am convinced that before long I will hold the sword and horn of Roland in my hands."

  Austin paused, wondering how he could gently break the news, then decided that it could not be done. "There may be a problem," he said.

  Aguirrez eyed Austin warily. "What do you mean?" Austin handed over an envelope containing a copy of the Black- thorne manuscript. "This material suggests that the relics may not be where you think they are." Austin proceeded to lay out the story Perlmutter had told him. As Aguirrez listened, storm clouds seemed to move in and perch on his brow.

  "I know of St. Julien Perlmutter through my own research. He is highly respected as a sea historian." "There is none more knowledgeable."

  Aguirrez slammed a fist into his palm. "I Ifnew Diego wasn't killed by Brasero. He escaped with the relics."

  "There's more," Austin said. He handed Aguirrez the news clip detailing the interview with the zeppelin's survivor.

  "I still don't understand," the Basque said after reading the article. "Oceanus is the owner of the zeppelin that found your ancestor's boat locked in the ice."

  Aguirrez saw the connection immediately. "You believe that Oceanus has the sacred relics in its possession?"

  "It's a good bet if you follow the chain of evidence." "And in your view, Oceanus can't be approached on this matter?" "I don't think Oceanus can be approached on anythmg Austin said, with a rueful chuckle. "You recall my boating accident? I have a confession to make. An Oceanus security guard blew up my boat with a hand grenade."

  "And I must confess that I never believed your story about engine fumes."

  "While we're in a confessing mood," Austin said, "maybe you can tell me why your men followed me to Copenhagen."

  "A precaution. To be frank, I didn't know what to make of you. I knew from your identity card that you were with NUMA, but I didn't know why you were poking into the Oceanus operation, and assumed it must be an official mission. My curiosity was stirred, so I decided to keep an eye on you. You made no effort to hide your movements. My men happened to be nearby when you were at- tacked. How is the young lady you were with, by the way?" "She's fine, thanks to the alertness of your men." "Then you're not angry at being followed?" "Not at all, but I wouldn't like to see you make it a habit." "I understand." Aguirrez paused in thought. "Am I correct to as- sume the men who attacked you were from Oceanus?"

  "That seems a safe conclusion. The attackers resembled the guards I encountered at the Oceanus operation in the Faroes."

  "Oceanus tried to kill you twice. Be careful, my friend, they may try again."

  "They already have."

  Aguirrez didn't ask for details, and it was obvious he had other things on his mind. He rose from his chair and paced the room Blackthorne's manuscript clutched in his hand. "The people here must not know of this material. Without the relics, the Spanish gov- ernment will lose its incentive to move on Basque autonomy. But this goes beyond political matters," he said in a hollow voice. "I have failed my ancestor Diego by not finding the relics."

  "There may still be a way."

  Aguirrez stopped his pacing and fixed Austin with a penetrating stare. "What are you saying?"

  "We're both interested in nailing Oceanus to the wall. Let's talk about it, taking account, as you said before, of mutual interests."

  Aguirrez hiked his bushy eyebrows, but his face remained im- passive. Then he went over to a liquor cabinet and brought back two small glasses and a bottle of greenish-yellow liquor. He poured the glasses full and handed one to Austin, who recognized the distinc- tive scent ofizzara.

  An hour later, Austin slid behind the wheel of his car. He wondered if he had made a deal that might come back to haunt him, but he trusted his instincts, which were all he had to go on at this point. He sensed that Aguirrez was devious but principled, and since they shared the same goals, it would be foolish not to form a loose al- liance.

  He checked his cell phone and saw that there were two calls. The first was from the Trouts. He was relieved to hear from them. He knew from working with them on the Special Assignments Team that Paul and Gamay were able to take care of themselves, but at the same time, they had gone looking for Oceanus without knowing how dangerous their mission might be.

  Gamay answered his call. She and Paul had returned from Canada a few hours before, and dropped their luggage off at their town house. Then they had gone to NUMA headquarters to meet with Zavala, who was going to update them.

  "Did you get inside the
Oceanus operation?" Austin asked. "No," Gamay said, "but we bumped into a few of their people." Gamay was being a little too casual. "I know from personal expe- rience that when you bump into Oceanus, it bumps back. Are you and Paul all right?"

  "We're fine. A slight concussion for me and a broken wrist for Paul. The cuts and bruises are healing nicely."

  Austin swore under his breath, angry at himself for putting his partners in danger.

  "I didn't realize what I was getting you into. I'm sorry." Don't be. You only asked us to see what we could learn about Oceanus. It was our decision to go flying off to Canada and poke our noses in where they weren't welcome. It was worth the trip, too. We wouldn't have learned about the devilfish otherwise."

  The only devilfish Austin had ever heard of was the manta ray.

  Are you sure that concussion is on the mend?"

  "I've never been more clearheaded, Kurt. In all my years as a ma- rine biologist, I've never encountered anything like this before. Paul calls it 'white death.5 "

  Austin experienced a quick frisson as he recalled his brush with the large, toothy creature in the Oceanus fish tank. "You can fill me in when I get there."

  He hung up and punched out Gunn's number. "Hello, Rudi," he said, without the usual exchange of pleasantries. "I think it's time we had a meeting with Sandecker."

  29

  THE GIANT VIDEO screen in the conference room glowed blue for a second, then an image appeared. There was a flash of silvery-white scales in a net, and Mike Neal was heard shouting, "Hold on, folks, we've got a live one!" There was a blurred glimpse of a fish slamming against the deck and a close-up of a toothy mouth snapping a gaff handle in two. The handheld camera showed the same fish being clouted with a baseball bat. The astonished voices of the Trouts were audible in the background.

  Paul Trout clicked the remote control and froze the picture. The lights blinked back on, and a crisp, commanding voice was heard to say, "It seems Jaws has formidable competition."

  Admiral James Sandecker, the driving force behind NUMA, sat at a long conference table, his head enveloped in a purple cloud that belched from the fat cigar in his hand.

  "That thing up on the screen is in a class of its own, Admiral," said Gamay, who sat at the table along with Austin, Zavala and Rudi Gunn. "The great white shark attacks when it's hungry or hunted. The creature we're looking at is more like Mack the Knife: just plain mean."

  Sandecker blew out a plume of smoke and glanced around the table. "Now that you've engaged my attention with what must be the short- est monster movie on record, please tell me what in blazes is going on and what that creature has to do with the cast on Paul's wrist."

  Gamay and Paul took turns telling the story of their Canadian adventure, from their visit to the Oceanus fish-processing plant to their talk with the geneticists at McGill.

  Austin cut in. "Did you say Frederick Barker?"

  "Yes," Gamay said. "Do you know him?"

  "We've had a passing acquaintance. His men tried to kill me last night."

  Austin gave the gathering a quick rundown of his encounter with Barker and the wild dogsled race through the Mall.

  "Congratulations, Kurt. The traffic tie-up you caused was page one in The Washington Post." Sandecker paused in thought. "Let me see if I understand this story to date. You believe that Oceanus or- chestrated the sinking of two ships in Faroe waters to divert atten- tion from a secret project, directed by this man Barker, having to do with the breeding of mutant fish." He gestured at the screen. "Fish similar to the one Paul and Gamay encountered in Canada. And that people from a rogue Eskimo tribe made attempts on your life in the Faroes, in Copenhagen and in Washington."

  "Sounds unbelievable when somebody else tells it," Austin said, with a shake of his head.

  "Baron Munchausen couldn't have done better. Luckily, Paul and Gamay have verified the existence of these homicidal Eskimos." He turned to Gunn. "What do you make of this fantastic tale, Rudi?"

  "Before I answer, I'd like to ask Gamay what could happen if these artificially mutated superfish got into the sea and started breeding."

  "According to Dr. Throckmorton, Barker's colleague, in sufficient numbers, they could create a biological time bomb," Gamay said. "They could replace the natural strains of fish within a few genera- tions.

  "What's wrong with that?" Sandecker said, playing devil's advo- cate. "Fishermen would have to catch a few large fish instead of many smaller ones."

  "True, but we don't know enough about the long-range effects.

  What would happen if these Frankenfish had some property that made them unfit for human consumption? What if an unforeseen mutant strain resulted? What if the superfish offspring couldn't sur- vive in the wild? You'd have neither the natural species nor the mu- tants. The ocean system would be thrown out of whack. Fishermen, processing people and distributors would be idled around the world. This would disrupt whole societies that depend upon fish protein for nourishment. Industrial nations would be damaged, as well." "That's quite a dismal forecast," Sandecker said. "I'm being conservative in my assessment. There are so many unknowns. We know that more than twenty-five species are being targeted for genetic modification. It could mean a tragedy of un- imaginable proportions if they escape into the sea."

  "We're assuming that monster up there escaped from a research lab," Rudi said. "Suppose he and others like him were released into the sea deliberately ?"

  Gamay stared at Gunn as if he had grown a set of horns. "Why would anyone risk extinction of a whole species? That would be a ter- rible thing."

  Gunn shook his head. "Not for everyone."

  "What are you saying?" Sandecker asked.

  "That the fish will vanish from the sea, but not from the Oceanus holding tanks. Oceanus has been acquiring international patents for its fish genes. The species would be preserved in Oceanus DNA banks."

  "Very clever, Rudi," Sandecker said. "Oceanus would have created a monopoly on a major source of the world's protein."

  Paul said, "A monopoly like that could be worth billions of dol- lars."

  "It goes beyond money," Sandecker said. "Fish protein is a major source of nourishment for much of the world. Food is power."

  "This explains why Oceanus is so trigger-happy," Austin said. "If the news got out that they were about to deplete the world's oceans, the adverse public reaction would be overwhelming."

  "Certainly sounds plausible," Gunn said. "You establish biofish hatcheries around the world. You could seed the major fish-breeding areas in a short time."

  "You wouldn't need many fish," Gamay said. "Each male biofish released could breed with dozens of females. But I'd like to point out there is nothing illegal about dumping fish into the open sea."

  "They've been responsible for the loss of two ships and several deaths trying to keep their dirty little secret," Austin said. "They're holding an entire Indian village captive. Last I heard, murder and kidnapping were illegal."

  Sandecker said, "But since we can't pin the killings and other crimes on Oceanus yet, we'll have to proceed with care. We can't go through the regular channels. Even the Canadian government can't know of our action. Oceanus could bring the forces of the law down on us. The Special Assignments Team was formed for missions away from official oversight, so it's the perfect vehicle to carry out our plan."

  'I didn't know we had a plan," Zavala said.

  'Seems obvious to me," the admiral said. "We blow Oceanus and their bloody scheme out of the water, like the pirates they are. I re- alize it won't be easy. Nighthawk's family and relatives could be placed in jeopardy. The fact that we've stumbled onto the scene might make Oceanus act in haste."

  "There's another factor we should take into account," Austin said.

  "Marcus Ryan is determined to get SOS involved. They could com- promise our plan and put the captives in real danger."

  "That settles it," Sandecker said. "We move immediately. We've got to strike at the heart of this thing, that facility in the C
anadian woods. Kurt, did this young Indian give you any inkling where his village was located?"

  "Ryan had him on a short leash. Ben seems to have disappeared, but I'll keep trying to find him."

  "We can't wait that long." Sandecker's gaze moved over to a scruffy-looking man who had quietly slipped into the room during the discussion and taken a seat in a corner. "Hiram, do you have something for us?"

  Hiram Yeager was the director of the vast computer network that covered the entire tenth floor of the NUMA building. The center processed and stored the biggest amount of digital data on the oceans ever assembled under one roof. The brains behind this incredible display of information-gathering power was dressed in his standard uniform, Levi pants and jacket over a pure white T-shirt. His feet were stuffed into a pair of cowboy boots that looked as if they had come from Boot Hill. His long hair was tied in a ponytail, and his gray eyes peered out at the world through wire-rimmed granny glasses.

  "Rudi asked me to see if Max would compile a list of places that have experienced sudden fish kills, and to cross-check when possible with nearby fish-processing plants or farms."

  "Do you want us to adjourn this meeting to the data center?" Sandecker asked.

  Yeager's boyish face beamed with excitement. "Stay right where you are. You're about to see a demonstration of Portable Max."

  Sandecker grimaced. He was impatient to get his troops moving and wasn't interested in Yeager's experiments, only their results. But his respect for the computer genius displayed itself in the same un- characteristic patience that allowed Yeager to ignore the NUMA dress code.

  Yeager connected a laptop computer to various outlets and to the video screen. He clicked the ON button. Anyone who expected an or- dinary presentation didn't know Hiram Yeager. The image of a woman appeared on the video screen. Her eyes were topaz brown and her hair a shiny auburn, her shoulders bare down to the first hints of her breasts.