Clive Cussler - White Death

"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 pilsner 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."

"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."