White Death by Clive Cussler
The tough-faced stewards who had escorted him earlier were wait- ing. One opened the door and led the way, while the other man took up the rear. The walk gave Austin ample opportunity to exercise, and he felt his legs grow stronger with every step. They came to the main deck salon, and one of the men motioned for Austin to enter. Then he and the other man left him alone.
Austin stepped into the salon and raised his eyebrows. He had been on dozens of yachts and had found the decor to be similar. Chrome and leather and clean contemporary lines were the norm. But the Navarras salon resembled the interior of a southern European farmhouse.
The eggshell-white walls and ceiling were of stucco, inlaid with rough-hewn beams, and the floor was a red tile. A fire was crackling in a large, stone fireplace that had been built into one wall. Over the mantle was a painting of men playing a game Austin recognized as jai alai. He went up to a still-life painting of assorted fruit and was examining the signature when a deep voice said, “Interested in art, Mr. Austin?”
Aguirrez had come up from behind without making a sound. Austin said, “I collect dueling pistols, which I think of as a form of art.”
“Without question! Deadly art is still art. I picked up that Cezanne for my little collection last year. The other pieces I found at auction or acquired from private sources.”
Austin strolled past the Gauguins, a Degas, Manets and Monets. The “little collection” was more extensive than that found in many museums. He moved to another wall that was covered with large photographs.
“These are originals, too?”
“A few of my holdings,” Aguirrez said, with a shrug. “Ship- building yards, steel mills and so forth.” He sounded like a jaded waiter rattling off items on a menu. “But enough of business.” He took Austin by the arm. “Dinner is ready.”
He led the way through sliding doors into an elegant dining room. At the center of the room was an oval mahogany table set for twelve. Aguirrez removed his beret and, with a snap of his wrist and great accuracy, flung it to a chair across the room. He gestured grandly to- ward the two opposite chairs at one end of the table. As the two men
took their seats, a waiter appeared from nowhere and poured their tall goblets full of wine.
“I think you will like this sturdy Spanish Rioja,” Aguirrez said. He raised his glass. “To art.”
“To the master and crew of the Navarra ”You're very gracious,“ Aguirrez said with obvious approval. ”Ah good,“ he said, his eyes lighting up. ”I see that our feast is about to begin.
There were no appetizers, and they dug right into the main course, a hearty bean, pepper and pork-rib dish served with cabbage. Austin complimented the chef and asked what the dish was.
“This is called alubias de tolosa” Aguirrez said, downing his food with gusto. “We Basques treat it with an almost mystical reverence.”
“Basque. Of course. Navarra is a Basque province. Then there's the jai alai painting. And the black beret.”
“I'm impressed, Mr. Austin! You seem to know a great deal about my people.”
“Anyone interested in the sea knows that the Basques were the greatest explorers, sailors and shipbuilders in the world.”
Aguirrez clapped his hands. “Bravo.” He refilled Austin's wine- glass and leaned forward. “Tell me, what is your interest in the sea?” He maintained his ferocious grin, but pinioned Austin with a pene- trating gaze.
Austin admired the way Aguirrez had subtly managed the con- versational shift. Until he knew his host better and learned why the blue yacht was hanging out near the Oceanus fish farm, Austin planned to play his cards close to his vest.
“I'm a salvage specialist,” he said. “I've been working on a project in the Faroes. I came to Skaalshavn to do some fishing.”
Aguirrez sat back and roared with laughter. “Excuse my bad man- ners,” he said with tears in his eyes. “But it was my men who fished you from the sea.”
Austin's mouth widened in a sheepish grin. “A cold swim wasn't in my plans.”
Aguirrez became serious again. “From what we saw, there was an explosion on your boat.”
“The ventilation for the engine compartment was insufficient, and gasoline vapors collected. It happens sometimes with inboards,” Austin said.
Aguirrez nodded. “Strange. In my experience, explosions of that type usually happen when a boat has been sitting at the dock. And your wound undoubtedly was caused by flying metal.”
“Undoubtedly,” Austin said with a poker face, knowing full well that the ship's doctor would have seen that there were no burn marks on his skin and his wound was too neat to be from a jagged hunk of metal. Austin didn't know why Aguirrez was playing verbal cat- and-mouse, but he went along with the game. “I was lucky you were nearby.”
Nodding soberly, Aguirrez said, “We watched your earlier en- counter with the patrol boat and saw you head along the coast. When we rounded the point later, you had vanished. Not long after that, you burst from that sea cave like a man shot from a cannon.” He clapped his big hands together. “Boom! Your boat was in pieces and you were in the water.”
“That about sums it up,” Austin said, with a faint smile. After offering Austin a short, thick cigar, which he refused, Aguir- rez lit up a dark stogie that smelled like a toxic waste site. “So my friend,” he said, blowing smoke through his nostrils. “Did you get into the caves?”
“Caves?” Austin feigned innocence.
“For God's sakes, man, that's why I'm here, to find the caves. Surely you must have wondered what my boat is doing in this God- forsaken place.”
“It had occurred to me.”
"Then allow me to explain. I have done very well with my busi- nesses.
An understatement. You're very fortunate. Congratulations.
“Thank you. My wealth gives me the means and the time to do whatever I like. Some men choose to spend their fortune on beauti- ful young women. I choose to be an amateur archaeologist.”
“Ambitious hobbies in either case.” “I still enjoy the company of beautiful women, especially if they are intelligent. But with me, the past is more than a hobby.” He looked as if he were about to spring from his chair. “It is my passion. As you said earlier, the Basques were great men of the sea. They pioneered the cod and whale fisheries off North America decades before Columbus. An ancestor of mine, Diego Aguirrez, profited from this trade.”
“He would be proud to see his descendant has carried on his legacy.”
“You're more than kind, Mr. Austin. He was a man of great courage and unyielding principle, qualities that got him in trouble with the Spanish Inquisition. He angered one of the more ruthless Inquisitors.”
“Then he was executed?” Aguirrez smiled. “He was resourceful, as well. Diego saw his wife and children to safety. I am a direct descendant of his eldest son. Family tradition says he escaped in one of his ships, but his fate is a mystery.”
“The sea is full of unsolved puzzles.” Aguirrez nodded. “Nevertheless, he left tantalizing clues that show he intended to put himself far beyond the reach of the Inqui- sition. The traditional North American route for the Basques in- cluded a stopover here in the Faroes. So I began to explore that link. You know the origins of the name Skaalshavn?”
“I've been told it means 'Skull Harbor.' ”
Aguirrez smiled and rose from the table to extract an ornately carved wooden box from a cabinet. He unlatched the top and pulled out a skull, cradling it in one hand like Hamlet contemplating Yorick. “This is from one of those caves. I've had it looked at by ex- perts. It has distinct Basque characteristics.” He tossed the skull to Austin as if it were a ball, probably hoping to shock him.
Austin caught the skull neatly and spun it in his hand like a ge- ographer studying a globe of the world. “Maybe it's your ancestor Diego.” He tossed the skull back.
“I wondered the same thing and had it tested for DNA. This gen- tleman and I are not related, I'm sad to say.” Aguirrez put the skull back into the box a
“You're very persistent.”
“This has become a quest. Which is why I'm interested in your ad- venture. I suspected the natural arch might provide entry into the caves, but the waters around them were too dangerous for our launches. Apparently, you found a way to get in.”
“Dumb luck,” Austin said briefly.
Aguirrez chuckled. “I think it was more than luck. Please, tell me what you saw. I will bribe you with more wine.”
He snapped his fingers. The waiter brought a new bottle, opened it and refilled their glasses.
“No bribe is necessary,” Austin said. “Consider it partial repay- ment for your hospitality and the fine meal.” He sipped from his glass, enjoying the buildup of suspense. “You're right, there is a way into the caves through the arch. The locals call it the 'Mer- maid's Gate.' The cave network is quite extensive. I only saw part of it.”
Austin went into detail about the cave art, saying nothing about his side trip into the fish farm. Aguirrez hung on every word.
“Similar Paleolithic paintings dating back twelve thousand years have been found on the walls of caves in Basque country,” he mur- mured at one point. “The other drawings indicate that an advanced civilization must have used the caves.”
“That was my impression. Supposedly, the Faroes were uninhab- ited before the Irish monks and the Vikings settled here. Maybe the historians were wrong.”
"I wouldn't be surprised. The scholars have no idea where my
people came from. Our language has no antecedents in Europe or Asia. Basques have the highest percentage ofRH-negative blood type in the world, leading some to speculate that we go directly back to Cro-Magnon man.“ He banged his fist lightly on the table. ”I'd give anything to get into those caves."
“You saw the warm reception I got.” “You seem to have stirred up a hornet's nest. While you slept, the patrol boats came out from shore and demanded permission to come aboard. We refused, of course.”
“The boat I saw had a couple of men with automatic rifles.”
Aguirrez waved toward the art hanging on the wall. “When they saw that my men outgunned and outnumbered them, they quickly left.”
“They had a helicopter, too. It was armed with rockets.”
“Oh yes, that,” he said, as if he were talking about a pesky gnat.
“I had my men brandish their handheld surface-to-air missiles, and the helicopter stopped bothering us.”
Missiles and automatic weapons. The Navarra was armed like a warship.
Aguirrez read Austin's mind. “Wealthy men can be a target for kidnappers. The Navarra would be fair game for pirates, so I have made sure it is not exactly toothless. Of necessity, I have surrounded myself with loyal and well-armed men.”
/Why do you suppose Oceanus is so prickly about people poking into its business?“ Austin said. ”We're talking about a fish farm, not diamond mines."
“I asked myself the same question,” Aguirrez said, with a shrug.
One of the men who had kept watch over Austin came into the dining room. He handed Aguirrez a plastic bag and whispered into his ear.
Aguirrez nodded and said, “Thank you for being so forthcoming about your visit to the caves, Mr. Austin. Is there anything more I can do for you?”
“I wouldn't mind a lift back to the village.”
“Done. My man has informed me that we are passing the sea stack and should be anchoring in a few minutes.” He handed the plastic bag over. “Your clothes and personal effects have been drying out.”
Austin was ushered back to his cabin so he could change. The bag also held his wallet, which contained his NUMA photo ID card prominently displayed in its plastic window. Aguirrez was a cool one. He would have known that Austin's story about being in ma- rine salvage was made out of whole cloth, yet he'd never let on. In- side the bag was a business card with his host's name and a telephone number. Austin tucked the card into his wallet.
Aguirrez was waiting on deck to say good-bye.
“I appreciate your hospitality,” Austin said, shaking hands with his host. “I hope I'm not being rude having to eat and run.”
“Not at all,” Aguirrez said, with an enigmatic smile. “I wouldn't be surprised if our paths crossed again.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Austin said, with a grin. Moments later, Austin was in the launch heading across the quiet harbor.
NUMA 4 - White Death
14
TWO THOUSAND FEET above Skaalshavn harbor, the Bell 206 Jet Ranger helicopter that had been tracking the yacht along the coast came to a hover and focused its Wescam high- resolution surveillance camera on the launch making its way to shore. The man in the pilot's seat stared at a video monitor, watching as a lone passenger disembarked from the boat.
The helicopter pilot had a pie-shaped face with high cheekbones marked with vertical tattoo lines. His coal-black hair was cut in bangs over his low forehead, characteristics that might lead a casual ob- server to take him for a native of the northern tundra. But the fea- tures normally associated with the Eskimo were distorted. In place of a pleasant smile was a cruel, leering expression. Eyes that should have twinkled with innocent good humor were as hard as black di- amonds. The brownish-red skin was pockmarked, as if the corrup- tion within had seeped through the pores. The hastily applied band- age taped across the man's crushed nose intensified the grotesque image.
'We have the target in view," he said with a nasal snarl, speaking in an ancient language that had its origins under the aurora borealis.
The electronic signal from the camera, which was housed in a pod beneath the cockpit, was converted into microwaves and transmitted instantaneously to the other side of the globe to a darkened room, where pale-gray eyes watched the same picture seen from the heli- copter.
“I can see him quite clearly,” the gray-eyed man said. His silky voice was quiet and cultured, but it had the sullen menace of a rattle- snake. “Who is this person who violated our security so easily?”
“His name is Kurt Austin.” A pause. “The same Austin who rescued the Danish sailors from their sunken ship?”
“Yes, great Toonook. He is a marine engineer with the National Underwater and Marine Agency.”
“Are you certain ? A mere engineer wouldn't have been so bold or resourceful as to penetrate our facility. And why would NUMA be interested in our operation?”
“I don't know, but our watcher has verified his identity.” “And the yacht that picked him up and drove off your men. Is it a NUMA vessel?”
“As far as we know, it is private, of Spanish registry. We're check- ing on the ownership through our sources in Madrid.”
“See that it is done speedily. What is the latest damage report at our facility?”
“One guard dead. We were able to repair the damaged pipes and save the prime specimens.”
“The guard deserved to die for being careless. I want the speci- mens moved to Canada immediately. Our experiments are too vital to be jeopardized.”
“Yes, great Toonook.”
“An idiot can see what has happened. Mr. Austin has somehow drawn a connection between Oceanus and the collision we so con- veniently arranged.”
“That's impossible-”
“The evidence is in front of your eyes, Umealiq. Don't argue with it. You must deal with the situation!”
The pilot tightened his grip on the controls, ready to send
“Should we kill Austin while we have him in our sights?”
“Do I detect a yearning to avenge the damage to your precious nose?” The voice had a mocking tone to it. Without waiting for an answer, he said, “I should kill him for the trouble he has caused me. Had he allowed the Danish sailors to die, the revulsion of the world would be directed at SOS and the attention of the press diverted away from Oceanus.”
“I will do it now-”
“AW Don't be impatient. We must not attract any more attention to his demise than necessary.”
"He is staying at an isolated cottage. It would be the perfect place.
We could drop his body off a cliff."
“Thenjw to it. But make it look like an accident. Austin must not be allowed to broadcast his findings to the world. Our plans are at a critical stage.”
“I will return to the base and organize our men. I will see that Austin enjoys a lingering death, that he experiences fear and pain as the life drains from his body, that-”
“No. Have someone else do it. I have other plans for you. You must leave for Canada immediately to make sure the specimens get there safely, then you are to go to Washington and eliminate that Senator who opposes our legislation. I have arranged cover for you and your men.”
The pilot glanced with fierce longing at the monitor and touched the tender mush that was his nose. “As you wish,” he said with re- luctance.
His hands played over the cyclic pitch control, and a moment later the hovering helicopter darted off in the direction of the old harbor.
Unaware how close he had come to a violent end, Austin sat behind the steering wheel of Professor Jorgensen's Volvo, contemplating his next move. He was wary of the remote location of the cottage. He gazed at the warm lights of the town, then grabbed his duffel and left the car. He walked into the village without encountering a soul and went up to the house behind the church.