"Just make sure the story is worth all the damned Dramamine I swallowed."
The camera executed a close-up of Ryan's grinning face as he replied: "I can almost guarantee that you'll see action." As the cam- era followed his finger pointing toward the Danish cruiser, there was a muttering in the audience. That's it, Austin thought. Ryan is toast.
The tape ended, and Lundgren asked the reporter one question. "Was that your voice on the tape?"
When the reporter replied in the affirmative, Ryan sprang to his feet.
"That's unfair. You're using my comment completely out of con- text !"
"Please be seated, Mr. Ryan," Lundgren said, a bemused expres- sion on his face.
Ryan realized his outburst would bolster the image of a hothead capable of ramming a ship. He regained his composure. "My apolo- gies, sir. I was not told that the video would be introduced into evi- dence. I hope I will have the chance to comment on it."
"This is not an American court of law, but you will have every op- portunity to make your side known before this hearing is adjourned. The board will hear from Captain Petersen and his crew as soon as they are able. You will remain in protective custody at the police sta- tion until then. We will do our best to expedite the process."
Ryan thanked the court. Then, escorted by the policemen, he left the room.
"Is that all?" Austin asked Becker.
"Apparently so. I expected they might ask you back to the stand, but it appears they don't need you anymore. I hope your plans haven't been disrupted."
Austin assured Becker that it was no problem. He sat in his chair as the room began to empty, chewing over Ryan's testimony. Either the man was telling the truth or he was a very good actor. That would be for wiser men to decide. First a good, stiff cup of coffee, then he would check out earlier flights to Copenhagen. From there, he'd fly back to Washington.
"Mr. Austin."
A woman was walking toward him, her face wreathed in a bright smile. Austin noticed her athletic and well-proportioned figure, the chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders, the unblemished skin and
alert eyes. She was dressed in a white Icelandic wool jumper known as a lopapesya.
They shook hands. "My name is Therri Weld," she said, in a voice
that was mellow and warm. "I'm a legal advisor with the SOS or- ganization."
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Weld. What can I do for you?" Therri had been watching Austin's serious expression as he gave his testimony, and she was unprepared for his devastating smile. With his broad shoulders, burnished features and blue-green eyes, he reminded her of a buccaneer captain in a pirate movie. She almost
forgot what she was going to say, but quickly regained her mental footing.
"I wonder if you could spare a few minutes of your time," she said.
"I was about to look for a cup of coffee. You're welcome to join me.
"Thanks. There's a pretty decent cafe around the corner." They found a quiet table and ordered two cappuccinos.
"Your testimony was fascinating," she said, as they sipped their coffee.
"Your Captain Ryan was the star of the day. My words paled by comparison with his story."
Therri laughed softly. Her laughter had a musical lilt that Austin liked. "Today wasn't his finest hour, I'm afraid. Usually he can be
quite eloquent, particularly on those subjects he's most passionate about."
"Tough trying to explain to a bunch of skeptics that your ship was possessed by evil spirits. The reporter's testimony and the video didn't help."
"I agree, which is why I wanted to meet with you."
Austin gave her his best country-boy grin. "Aw, shucks, I had hoped you found yourself hopelessly attracted by my animal mag- netism."
Therri raised a finely arched brow. "That goes without saying," she said. "But the main reason I wanted to talk was to see if you could help SOS."
"To begin with, Ms. Weld-"
"Therri. And may I call you Kurt?"
Austin nodded. "I've got a couple of problems right off the bat, Therri. First of all, I don't know how I can help you. And second, I don't know if I want to help your organization. I'm not in favor of whale slaughter, but I don't endorse radical nutcases."
Therri skewered Austin with a leveled gaze of her laser-bright eyes. "Henry David Thoreau, John Muir and Edward Abbey were considered radical nut cases in their times. But I concede your point. SOS tends to be too activist for the taste of many. Okay, you say you don't endorse radicals. Do you endorse injustice, because that's exactly what's involved here."
"In what way?"
"Marcus did not ram that Danish ship on purpose. I was in the pilot- house when it happened. He and the others did everything they could to avoid that collision."
"Have you told this to the Danish authorities?"
"Yes. They said they didn't need me to testify and told me to leave the country."
"Okay," Austin said. "I believe you."
"Just like that? You don't seem like someone who accepts the world at face value."
"I don't know what else to say without offending you."
"Nothing you say can offend me."
"Glad to hear that. But what gives you the idea that I would care whether the case against Ryan is just or not?"
"I'm not asking you to care about Marcus." Therri's tone hinted that there was a bit of hard steel behind her soft features. Austin suppressed a smile. "What exactly do you want from me, Therri?"
She brushed a lock of hair out other face and said, "I'd like you to make a dive on the Sea Sentinel"
"What purpose would a dive serve?"
"It might prove that Marcus is innocent." "In what way?"
She spread her hands. "I don't know. But you might find some- thing', all I know is that Marcus is telling the truth. To be honest, much of his radicalism is hot air. He's really a hard-nosed pragma- list who calculates the odds very carefully. He's not the kind of per- son who goes around ramming navy ships in a fury. Besides, he loved the Sea Sentinel. He even picked the ridiculous psychedelic color scheme himself. No one on the ship, including me, intended for any- one to get hurt."
Austin leaned back in his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and stared at Therri's earnest face. He liked the way her perfect lips turned up in a Mona Lisa smile even when she was serious. Her girl- next-door appearance couldn't disguise the sensuous woman who lurked behind remarkable eyes. There were a thousand reasons why he should simply thank her for the coffee, shake her hand and wish her good luck. There were maybe three good reasons why he might consider her request. She was beautiful. She might have a case. And, right or wrong, she was passionate about her cause. His plane flight was two days away. There was no reason his short stay in the Faroes had to be boring.
Intrigued, he sat forward, and ordered another round of coffees.
"Okay, then," Austin said. "Tell me exactly what happened."
8
A FEW HOURS LATER, Austin was a world away from the
warmth of the coffee shop, encased in the bulbous protective armor of his aluminum Hardsuit, sinking once more into the cold Faroese sea. As he dropped into the deep, he smiled as he pictured how Becker would react if he knew that a Danish vessel was being used to help Marcus Ryan and the SOS. It would serve the conniv- ing little bureaucrat right, Austin thought, his chuckle echoing inside the helmet.
After taking leave of Them Weld, he had gone back to the hotel, called Captain Larsen and asked permission to make another dive from the Thor. He said he wanted to shoot pictures of the rescue scene for a report, which was partially true. Larsen didn't hesitate to say yes and even sent a shuttle boat in to bring Austin back to the ship.
Since Becker had asked Austin to leave the Hardsuit, it was all ready for him.