White Death (NUMA Files 4)

Austin admired the way Aguirrez had subtly managed the con- versational shift. Until he knew his host better and learned why the blue yacht was hanging out near the Oceanus fish farm, Austin planned to play his cards close to his vest.

"I'm a salvage specialist," he said. "I've been working on a project in the Faroes. I came to Skaalshavn to do some fishing."

Aguirrez sat back and roared with laughter. "Excuse my bad man- ners," he said with tears in his eyes. "But it was my men who fished you from the sea."

Austin's mouth widened in a sheepish grin. "A cold swim wasn't in my plans."

Aguirrez became serious again. "From what we saw, there was an explosion on your boat."

"The ventilation for the engine compartment was insufficient, and gasoline vapors collected. It happens sometimes with inboards," Austin said.

Aguirrez nodded. "Strange. In my experience, explosions of that type usually happen when a boat has been sitting at the dock. And your wound undoubtedly was caused by flying metal."

"Undoubtedly," Austin said with a poker face, knowing full well that the ship's doctor would have seen that there were no burn marks on his skin and his wound was too neat to be from a jagged hunk of metal. Austin didn't know why Aguirrez was playing verbal cat- and-mouse, but he went along with the game. "I was lucky you were nearby."

Nodding soberly, Aguirrez said, "We watched your earlier en- counter with the patrol boat and saw you head along the coast. When we rounded the point later, you had vanished. Not long after that, you burst from that sea cave like a man shot from a cannon." He clapped his big hands together. "Boom! Your boat was in pieces and you were in the water."

"That about sums it up," Austin said, with a faint smile. After offering Austin a short, thick cigar, which he refused, Aguir- rez lit up a dark stogie that smelled like a toxic waste site. "So my friend," he said, blowing smoke through his nostrils. "Did you get into the caves?"

"Caves?" Austin feigned innocence.

"For God's sakes, man, that's why I'm here, to find the caves. Surely you must have wondered what my boat is doing in this God- forsaken place."

"It had occurred to me."

"Then allow me to explain. I have done very well with my busi- nesses.

An understatement. You're very fortunate. Congratulations.

"Thank you. My wealth gives me the means and the time to do whatever I like. Some men choose to spend their fortune on beauti- ful young women. I choose to be an amateur archaeologist."

"Ambitious hobbies in either case." "I still enjoy the company of beautiful women, especially if they are intelligent. But with me, the past is more than a hobby." He looked as if he were about to spring from his chair. "It is my passion. As you said earlier, the Basques were great men of the sea. They pioneered the cod and whale fisheries off North America decades before Columbus. An ancestor of mine, Diego Aguirrez, profited from this trade."

"He would be proud to see his descendant has carried on his legacy."

"You're more than kind, Mr. Austin. He was a man of great courage and unyielding principle, qualities that got him in trouble with the Spanish Inquisition. He angered one of the more ruthless Inquisitors."

"Then he was executed?" Aguirrez smiled. "He was resourceful, as well. Diego saw his wife and children to safety. I am a direct descendant of his eldest son. Family tradition says he escaped in one of his ships, but his fate is a mystery."

"The sea is full of unsolved puzzles." Aguirrez nodded. "Nevertheless, he left tantalizing clues that show he intended to put himself far beyond the reach of the Inqui- sition. The traditional North American route for the Basques in- cluded a stopover here in the Faroes. So I began to explore that link. You know the origins of the name Skaalshavn?"

"I've been told it means 'Skull Harbor.' "

Aguirrez smiled and rose from the table to extract an ornately carved wooden box from a cabinet. He unlatched the top and pulled out a skull, cradling it in one hand like Hamlet contemplating Yorick. "This is from one of those caves. I've had it looked at by ex- perts. It has distinct Basque characteristics." He tossed the skull to Austin as if it were a ball, probably hoping to shock him.

Austin caught the skull neatly and spun it in his hand like a ge- ographer studying a globe of the world. "Maybe it's your ancestor Diego." He tossed the skull back.

"I wondered the same thing and had it tested for DNA. This gen- tleman and I are not related, I'm sad to say." Aguirrez put the skull back into the box and rejoined Austin at the table. "This is my sec- ond visit here. The first time, I expected that the caves would be ac- cessible from land. I was dismayed to learn that the harbor and cave area had been purchased for use as a fish farm. I located a man who had worked in demolition when the farm was set up. He said that when the owners were blasting out rock to create storage space, they broke through to the caves. I tried to persuade the owners to let me conduct archaeological explorations, but they refused. I pulled every string I could think of, but even with my connections, Oceanus wouldn't budge. So I came back for another look."

"You're very persistent."

"This has become a quest. Which is why I'm interested in your ad- venture. I suspected the natural arch might provide entry into the caves, but the waters around them were too dangerous for our launches. Apparently, you found a way to get in."

"Dumb luck," Austin said briefly.

Aguirrez chuckled. "I think it was more than luck. Please, tell me what you saw. I will bribe you with more wine."

He snapped his fingers. The waiter brought a new bottle, opened it and refilled their glasses.