Clive Cussler - White Death

Max smiled. "Hello, Admiral Sandecker." "Hello, Max. Hiram is correct when he says you look wonderful.

But I think we should end this Portable Max experiment. In the fu- ture, we will visit you in the data center."

"Thanks for your understanding, Admiral. What can I do for you.

"Please produce the data Hiram requested." The face instantly disappeared. In its place was a map of the world.

Max's voice narrated: "This map shows the locations where there have been fish kills near aquaculture facilities. I can give you specifics for each location."

"Don't bother for now. Please show us those aquaculture sites owned by Oceanus."

Some of the circles vanished, but a substantial number remained.

"Now go to Canada," Sandecker said.

The picture zoomed in on Cape Breton. "Bingo!" Paul Trout said. "That's where Gamay and I had our run-in with Oceanus."

Austin said, "Max, could you draw a straight line from the

Oceanus site to the nearest lake in northern Canada?"

The map displayed a line that connected the coastal facility with the interior, but the lake it showed was too small and too close to civiliza- tion. After several tries. Max connected the aquaculture operation to the only lake large and remote enough to fit Nighthawk's description.

"We can run some satellite photos on this site, but my instincts tell me this is the right place," Austin said.

"Thank you, Max. You can shut down now," Sandecker said.

The screen went blank. Sandecker, who was obviously pleased with himself, turned to Zavala and said, "Now that's how you han- dle a woman." His face grew serious. "I think it's time to get mov- ing," he said.

Zavala raised his hand and cleared his throat.

"This is pretty rugged country. Assuming we find these hombres with no trouble, do we just drop in on them?"

Sandecker looked as if the question surprised him. "I'm open to suggestions."

"I've got one. Call in the Royal Canadian Mounties."

"I'm sure you can do it without their help." Sandecker showed his even teeth in a crocodile smile. "You have carte blanche."

"I'd rather have the Mounties," Zavala said. "If they're busy, a contingent of Special Forces might do."

"I don't blame Joe for being doubtful," Austin said, coming to his partner's aid. "As the Trouts and I know, Oceanus shoots first and asks questions later."

"It would take too long to go through the red tape necessary to in- volve the Canadian military or police. As for Special Forces, we would need presidential authority to trespass on Canadian turf. I don't see that coming."

"In that case, I'd like to make a proposal," Austin said. He related his conversation with Aguirrez.

Sandecker puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. "Let me see. You'd like to use the resources of this Basque, who may or may not be a terrorist, to carry out a NUMA mission in a foreign country?" Sandecker said.

"If we can't use the U.S. Marines or the Mounties, he might be all we have."

"Hmm," Sandecker said. "Can he be trusted?"

"He can be trusted to do whatever he can to find his relics. Beyond that I can't say, other than to remind you that he saved my life on two occasions."

Sandecker tugged at his precisely trimmed beard. The idea of using the Basque appealed to the admiral's unconventional side, but he was reluctant to lose control of the situation. On the other hand, he had complete confidence in Austin and his team.

"Use your best judgment," Sandecker said. "There's something else," Austin said. He told them about the overnight closing of the museum exhibition and the accident in- volving Senator Graham.

"But I know Graham well," Sandecker said.

Gunn nodded. "And guess what his commerce committee has been involved in lately? Legislation trying to close loopholes that would allow biofish to be shipped into the U.S."

"Quite a coincidence, isn't it?" Austin said. "Especially since he was returning from a party hosted by Oceanus."

"Are you suggesting," Sandecker said, "that this exhibition was an elaborate cover for an assassination crew?"

"It fits. With Graham out of the way, those loopholes may never be closed."

"I agree. There are certainly enough party hacks around to raise the possibility of bribes," said Sandecker, who had a low opinion of Congress.

Austin said, "Oceanus has cleared away a major obstacle. I think they're about to make their move."

Sandecker rose from his seat and glanced around the table with his cold blue eyes. "Then it's high time we made ours/9 he said.

When Austin returned to his office, a message was waiting for him from the captain of the NUMA research vessel William Beebe, work- ing with the Danes in the Faroe Islands. Call immediately, the mes- sage said, and left a phone number.

"I thought you'd want to know," the captain said, when Austin reached him. "There's been an accident out here. A research vessel working with a Danish scientist named Jorgensen blew up some- how. They lost eight people, including the professor."

Austin had forgotten about Jorgensen's plans to continue his re- search near the Oceanus plant. Now he recalled warning the profes- sor to be careful.

"Thank you, Captain," he said. "Any idea what caused the expio- sion :-

"The lone survivor said something about a helicopter in the area before the explosion, but she didn't make sense. She was the one who suggested that we call you, in fact. Seems she was on the boat as a guest of the professor. Name was Pia something."

"She's a friend of mine. How is she?"

"Few broken bones, some burns. But the doctors expect that she'll pull through. Sounds like a tough lady."

"She is. Could you give her a message?"

Of course.

"Tell her I'll be over to see her as soon as she's feeling better." "Will do."

Austin thanked the captain and hung up. He stared into space, his jaw muscle working, his blue-green eyes at the topaz level on Moh's scale of hardness. He was thinking of Jorgensen's horsy smile and pia's kindness. Barker, or Toonook, or whatever his name was, had made the mistake of his life. By killing the professor and injuring Pia, he had made it personal.

THE SINGLE-ENGINE floatplane flew low, looking like a toy against the vastness of the Canadian wilderness. Therri Weld sat next to the pilot in the front passenger seat, where she had a good view of the ranks of sharp, pointed treetops, any one of which could have ripped the belly out of the fuselage.

The first part of the flight had been spent in white-knuckled ter- ror. Therri had not been reassured when she saw the pair of fuzzy dice hanging in the cockpit. But as the flight proceeded without a hitch, she had concluded that the pilot, an enormous, grizzled man whose name was Bear, actually seemed to know what he was doing.

"Don't get up here very often," Bear shouted over the roar of the engine. "Too remote for most of the 'sportsmen' who come up to go hunting and fishing. Their idea of roughing it is staying at a lodge with inside plumbing." Bear pointed through the windshield at the featureless terrain. "Coming up on Looking Glass Lake. It's really two lakes joined by a short connector. Locals call it the Twins, al- though one's bigger than the other. We'll drop down on the little guy

in a few minutes."

"All I see is trees and more trees," said Marcus Ryan, who sat be- hind the pilot.

"Yeah, bound to find trees in these parts," Bear said, with a cheer- ful grin. He glanced over to see if Therri appreciated the joke on Ryan. She smiled gamely, but her heart wasn't in it. She would have felt far more confident if Ben Nighthawk were with them. Her calls to his apartment had gone unanswered. She'd wanted to keep trying, but Marcus had been in a hurry to get rolling.

"You can pull out if you want to," Ryan had said. "Chuck and I can go it alone, but we've got to move fast because the plane's wait- ing for us." Therri barely had time to pack before Ryan picked her up. Before long, they were piling into the SOS executive jet with Chuck Mercer, the former first mate of the Sea Sentinel. With his ship on the bottom, Mercer was eager to see action.