'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.
Austin's fathometer told him he was nearing bottom. He slowed his descent with short bursts of the vertical thrusters and came to a hummingbird hover about fifty feet above the bow section of the cruiser. The sea had wasted no time gathering the ship to its bosom. A shaggy coat of marine growth covered the hull and superstructure like an alpaca blanket. Schools ofdeepwater fish nosed in and out of the portholes, drawn by sea life that had made its home in the shad- owed nooks and crannies of the vessel.
Using a digital still camera, Austin shot pictures of the hole that the Sea Lamprey had made during the rescue mission and of the three-sided gash where the Sea Sentinel had punctured the hull. Austin had quizzed Captain Larsen about the last known position of the Sea Sentinel, relative to the cruiser. Using an undersea dead reck- oning, he headed in the general area of the sinking.
He used a standard search pattern, running a series of roughly parallel courses until his lights picked out the psychedelic paint job on the ship's hull. Like the cruiser, the SOS ship was already grow- ing a fur coat of marine growth. The combination of sea grass and tie-dye effect was startling. The Sea Sentinel had landed right-side- up on the bottom, and except for its smashed pug nose, the ship ap- peared to be in sound condition.
Austin surveyed the crushed bow and recalled Ryan's testimony. The engines had gone haywire, Ryan said, and failed to respond to controls. There was no way to check out the engines without going inside the wreck, but the steering system might more easily be in- vestigated, because part of it was external. The steering of a modern ship is done with a combination of electronics and hydraulics. But even with computers, GPS positioning and autopilot, the concept is no different than it was when Columbus set sail to look for India. At one end is a wheel or a tiller. At the other is a rudder. Turn the wheel, and the rudder pivots, sending the vessel in the appropriate direction.
Austin soared above the stern, executed a hairpin turn, then dropped several yards until he was facing the man-tail rudder. Curious.
The rudder was intact, but something was out of sync. Bolted to the rudder were two cables that led forward from the blade to each side of the hull. Austin followed the starboard cable to a steel box about the size of a large suitcase that was welded to the hull. An elec- trical conduit led from the box through the hull.
Even more curious.
The welds around the boxes and conduit were shiny and looked new. He backed off and followed the cable to an identical box on the other side. He raised the camera and made a couple of shots. A rubber-coated line as thick as a man's thumb connected the two boxes. Another line ran from the port-side box along the curve of the hull to a point that would have been above the waterline when the ship was afloat. At its end was a flat plastic disk about six inches in diameter. The significance of what he was seeing dawned on Austin.
Loofs lie someone owes you an apology, Mr. Ryan. Austin took some pictures, then pried the disk off with his ma- nipulators and placed it in a carrying case attached to the outside of the Hardsuit. He stayed down another twenty minutes, exploring every square inch of the hull. Finding nothing more out of the ordi- nary, he tapped his vertical thruster control and began the trip to the surface. Once out of his Hardsuit, he thanked Captain Larsen for the use of the Thor and caught a boat ride into Torshavn.
Back in his hotel room, he slipped the cassette out of the digital camera and into his laptop computer and brought the underwater pictures onto the screen. He studied the enlarged and enhanced pic- tures until he practically had them committed to memory, then he called Therri and asked to meet her again at the coffee shop. He got there early and had the computer set up on the table when she arrived a few minutes later.
'Good news or bad?' she said.
'Both.' Austin pushed the laptop across the table. 'I've solved one mystery, but uncovered another.'
She sat down and stared at the picture on the screen. 'What ex- actly am I looking at?'
'I think it's a mechanism to override or bypass the steering con- trols from the bridge.'
'You're sure of this?'
'Reasonably certain.'
He clicked the computer mouse through a series of pictures that showed the boxes welded to the hull from different angles. 'These housings could cover winches that can pull the rudder in either di- rection or lock it in place. Look here. This electrical connection runs up the side of the ship to a receiver above the waterline. Someone out- side the ship could have controlled the steering.'
Therri furrowed her brow. 'Looks like a little pie plate.'
Austin dug into his jacket, pulled out the plastic disk he'd pried off the hull, and dropped it on the table. 'No pie in this plate. It's an antenna that could have been used to pick up signals.'
Therri glanced at the screen, then picked the disk up and studied it. 'This would explain the steering problems Marcus had. What about the engines he couldn't shut down?'
'You've got me there,' Austin said. 'If you could get into the ship and tear the engine room apart, maybe you'd find a mechanism that would allow the ship's speed to be controlled from the outside as well.'
'I knew everyone on the Sea Sentinel. They're intensely loyal.' She jutted her chin forward as if she expected an argument. 'There's no one in that crew who would sabotage the ship.'
'I haven't made any accusations.'
'Sorry,' she said. 'I suppose I should keep an open mind about someone from the crew being involved.'
'Not necessarily. Let me ask what they say at airport security. Did anyone else pack your baggage or has it been out of your sight?'
'So you do think someone from the outside could have sabotaged the ship.'
Austin nodded. 'I found a power source line for the winches lead- ing into the hull to tap the ship's energy supply. Someone would have to get inside the ship to accomplish that.'
'Now that you mention it,' she said without hesitation, 'the ship needed some engine work. It was in dry dock for four days in the Shetland Islands.'
'Who did the work?' 'Marcus would know. I'll ask him.'
'It could be important.' He tapped the screen. 'This may be Ryan's ticket out of jail. I'd suggest you get in touch with a guy at my hotel named Becker who seems to be some sort ofbehind-the-scenes mucky-muck with the
