"It's Kurt Austin ofNUMA, if I'm not mistaken," the man said in a booming voice.
Austin stood and extended his hand. "Professor Jorgensen, nice to see you. It's been three years since we last saw each other."
"Four, actually, since we worked on that project in the Yucatan. What a wonderful surprise! I saw the news of the miraculous rescue you performed, but assumed you had departed the Faroes."
The professor was tall and narrow-shouldered. The ample tufts of hair flanking his freckled pate resembled swan wings. He spoke English with an Oxford accent, which was not surprising, since he had spent his undergraduate years at the famed English university.
"I stayed on to help Ms. Weld here with a project." Austin intro- duced Therri, and said, "This is Professor Peter Jorgensen. Dr. Jor- gensen is one of the foremost fisheries physiologists in the world." "Kurt makes it sound far more glamorous than it is. I'm simply a fish physician, so to speak. Well, what brings you to this far-flung out- post of civilization, Ms. Weld?"
"I'm an attorney. I'm studying the Danish legal system."
Austin said, "How about you, Professor? Are you doing some work here in the Faroes?"
"Yes, I've been looking into some peculiar phenomena," he said, without taking his eyes off of Therri. "Maybe I'm being forward, but I have a splendid suggestion. Perhaps we could have dinner together tonight and I could tell you about what I've been doing." "I'm afraid Ms. Weld and I already have plans." A pained expression crossed Them's face. "Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry. I started to say I'd be pleased to have dinner with you, but not tonight. I'm going to be busy with that legal matter we discussed."
"Hoist by my own petard," Austin said with a shrug. "Looks like you and I have a date, Professor."
"Splendid! I'll see you in the dining room of the Hotel Hania around seven, if that sounds all right." Turning to Therri, he said,
"I'm devastated, Ms. Weld. I hope we will meet again." He kissed her hand.
"He's charming," Therri said, after Jorgensen left. "Very courtly in an old-fashioned way."
"I agree," Austin said, "but I'd still rather have you as my dinner partner."
"I'm so sorry. Perhaps when we get back to the States." Her eyes darkened a shade. "I've been thinking about your theory about the possibility that the Sea Sentinel was controlled from the outside. What would be the range involved in controlling a ship?"
"It could be done from quite a distance, but whoever did it would stay close by to see if the ship were responding to command. Any ideas?"
"There were a number of boats carrying press in the area. Even a helicopter."
"The controls could have been worked from the sea or the air. It wouldn't have required much in the way of equipment. A transmit- ter with a joystick, maybe, like you see for video games. Assuming we know the how, let's talk about the why. Who would benefit by neutralizing Ryan?"
"Do you have all day? The list could go on forever. Marcus has made enemies all over the world."
"For a start, let's confine ourselves to the Faroe Islands." "The whalers would top the enemy list. Passions run high over the issue, but they're basically decent people, in spite of their odd customs. I can't see them attacking the navy ship that's been sent to protect them." She paused in thought. "There's another possibility, but it's probably too farfetched to consider."
Try me.
She furrowed her brow in concentration. "After thegrindarap op- eration, Marcus and his crew planned to make a showing at a fish farm owned by the Oceanus Corporation. The Sentinels are also against large-scale aquaculture, because of the harm to the environ- ment."
"What do you know about Oceanus?"
"Not much. It's a multinational distributor of seafood products. Traditionally, they've bought fish from fleets around the world, but in the last few years they've gotten into aquaculture in a huge way. Their fish farms are on the same scale as some of the land farms op- erated by the agribusiness outfits in the States."
"You think Oceanus could have arranged this whole thing?"
"Oh, I don't know, Kurt. They would have the resources, though. And, just maybe, the motive."
"Where was their fish farm located?"
"Not far from here, near a place called Skaalshavn. Marcus planned to run the Sea Sentinel back and forth in front of the farm for the benefit of the cameras." Therri glanced at her watch. "That reminds me… I should be going. I've got a lot of work to do."
They shook hands, vowing to get together again. Therri made her way across the dining room and stopped briefly to throw him a coquettish glance over her shoulder. The gesture was probably meant to be reassuring, but it only made Austin sadder.
9
PROFESSOR JORGENSEN HAD politely watched for sev- eral minutes as Austin tried to navigate his way through the in- comprehensible courses listed on the menu, but finally he could bear it no longer. He leaned across the table and said, "If you'd like to try a Faroese specialty, I'd recommend the fried puffin or the pilot-whale steak."
Austin pictured himself gnawing on a drumstick from one of the stubby little birds with the parrot beak and passed on the puffin. After hearing the bloody way in which pilot whales met their demise in the Faroes, he decided he would rather eat shark snout, but he set- tled for thes/yrpily'ot, well-aged mutton. After one bite, he wished he had gone for the puffin.
"How's your mutton?" Jorgensen said.
"Not quite as tough as shoe leather," Austin replied, working his jaw.
"Oh my, I should have advised you to get the boiled mutton, as I did. They dry slerpifyot in the wind. It's usually prepared at Christ- mas and served the rest of the year. It's a bit over the hill, as they say." He brightened at a new thought. "The life expectancy in the Faroes is quite high, so it must be good for you."
Austin sawed off a small bite and managed to swallow it. Then he put his knife and fork down while he gave his jaw muscles a rest. "What brings you to the Faroes, Dr. Jorgensen? It can't be the food."
The professor's eyes danced with amusement. "I've been looking into reports of diminishing fish stocks in the islands. It's a real mys- tery!
"In what way?"
"I thought at first that the cause of the vanishing fish might be pol- lution, but the waters are amazingly pure around the Faroes. I can only do so much testing on-site, so I'm heading back to Copenhagen tomorrow to run some water samples through the computer. There may be small traces of chemicals that might have a bearing on the problem."
"Any theories as to the source of the chemicals?" "It's strange," he said, tugging at one of his tufts of hair. "I'm sure
the problem has something to do with a nearby fish farm, but so far there is no discernible link between the two."
Austin had been eyeing the mutton, wondering where he could get a burger, but his ears perked up at the professor's words. "Did you say you were testing the water near a fish farm?"
"Yes. There are several aquaculture facilities in the islands that produce trout, salmon and the like. I collected samples from the wa- ters around a farming operation in Skaalshavn, a few hours' drive up the coast from Torshavn on Sundini, the long sound that separates Streymoy from the island ofEysturoy. Used to be a whaling station there in the old days. The farm is owned by a big fisheries conglom- erate."
Austin took a long shot. "Oceanus?"
"Yes, you've heard of it?" "Only recently. As I understand what you're saying, Professor, the fish levels near this farm are lower than they should be."
"That's right," Jorgensen replied with furrowed brow. "A real puzzle."
"I've heard fish farms can be harmful to the environment," Austin said, recalling his conversation with Therri Weld.
"True. The waste products from a fish farm can be toxic. They feed the fish a special chemical diet so they'll grow faster, but Oceanus claims it has a state-of-the-art water purification system. So far I haven't found any evidence to dispute that claim."