"As you wish. I know little about intrigue. My realm is science." His brow wrinkled in thought. "That creature in the tank that scared the devil out of you. You don't think it was a shark?"

"All I know is that it was big and hungry and as pale as a ghost." "A ghost fish. Interesting. I'll have to think about it. In the mean- time, I'll prepare for my return trip to the Faroes."

"Are you sure you want to go? It might be dangerous after my en- counter.

"This time, I'm going in a research vessel. Besides safety in num- bers, it will provide access to a full range of research gear. I'd love to bring along an archaeologist to research those caves."

"Not a great idea, Professor, but there's someone in town who might be helpful in that area. Her father visited the caves, and she told me how to gain entry. Her name is Pia."

"The minister's widow?"

"Yes, you've met her? She's quite a woman."

"I'll say," Jorgensen said, before catching himself. The blush stain- ing his cheeks told the whole story. "We've met a few times around the village. She's impossible to avoid. Can you change your plans and return to Skaalshavn with me?"

Austin shook his head. "Thanks for the offer. But I've got to get back to my duties at NUMA. I'm leaving Joe to wrap up the tests on the Sea Lamprey. Please keep me apprised of your findings."

"I will, of course." Jorgensen cradled his chin in his hand, and a faraway look came to his eyes.

"My scientific training abhors the whole idea of portents. I am trained to draw no conclusion unless I have the facts to back it up. There's something terribly wrong here, Kurt. I can feel it in my bones. Something unholy"

"If it's any consolation, I've had the same feeling. It goes beyond a bunch of guys running around with guns." He leaned forward with a level gaze in his blue-green eyes. "I'd like you to promise me some- thing when you go back to Skaalshavn."

"Of course, my boy. Anything you say."

"Take care, Professor," Austin said, in a firm manner that left no room for misunderstanding. "Tsike great care."

17

THE SENSE OF foreboding continued to haunt Austin even after he stepped outside Jorgensen's office building into the bright Danish sunlight. Several times during the cab ride back to the hotel, he found himself glancing through the rear window. He gave up finally and sat back to enjoy the ride. If danger were stalk- ing him, he would never see it with all the traffic.

Austin stopped at the clothing store to pick up his purchases. He carried the neatly tied boxes to his room and called Therri. It was 5:30. "I have a room one floor below yours. I think I can hear you singing in joyful anticipation of our dinner."

"Then you must have also heard me dancing as well." "It's amazing how my charm affects women," Austin said. "I'll meet you in the lobby. We could make believe that we're old lovers encountering each other by chance."

"You're a surprising romantic, Mr. Austin."

"I've been called worse things. You'll know me by the red carna- tion in my lapel."

When the elevator doors opened, Therri stepped out as if she were on stage and immediately caught the attention of every male in the vicinity, including Austin. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she glided across the lobby. Therri's chestnut hair tumbled down to the thin straps other white ankle-length lace dress that clung to her slim waist and thighs.

Her warm smile showed that Therri approved other date as well. She surveyed the European-styled single-breasted jacket of dove gray whose slightly pinched waist emphasized Austin's shoulders like a military uniform. The blue shirt and white silk tie set off his deep tan, coral-colored eyes and pale hair. Pinned to his lapel was a red carna- tion.

She extended her hand, which Austin kissed lightly. "What a lovely surprise," she said in an upper-class British accent. "I haven't seen you since-"

"Biarritz. Or was it Casablanca?"

Therri put her wrist to her forehead. "Oh, who can say? One place blends with the other over time, don't you agree?"

Austin leaned close to her ear and whispered, "We'll always have Marrakech."

Then he hooked her arm in his, and they strolled out the door as if they had known each other for ages. They walked across the busy square toward Tivoli, the famed nineteenth-century amusement park known for its rides and entertainment. The lively park was ablaze with neon and filled with visitors taking in the theater, dance and symphony music. They stopped to watch a folk-dance troupe for a few minutes. Therri suggested that they have dinner at a restaurant with an outdoor terrace, and they were seated at a table that had a view of the Ferris wheel.

Austin picked up the menu. "Since you chose the restaurant, I'll make the dinner selections, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I've been subsisting onsmorrebrod sandwiches." When the waiter came over, Austin ordered tiny fjord shrimps as an appetizer. For the main course, he ordered flaelesteg, roast pork served with crackling and cabbage, for himself, and morbradbof, small pork fillets in mushroom sauce, for Therri. Then for drinks, he picked Carlsberg pilsner beer rather than wine.

"You placed that order rather deftly," Therri said admiringly. "I cheated. I came to this same restaurant the last time I was in

Copenhagen on a NUMA assignment."

"Great minds, as they say." They toasted each other with their foamy glasses and sipped the cool, crisp beer. The shrimp came. Therri closed her eyes with pleas- ure after the first bite. "This is wonderful."

"The secret of cooking fish is to never let the flavoring drown out the subtle taste. This is flavored with lime and spiced with fresh pepper."

"One more thing to add to my thank-you list."

"Your good mood seems to go beyond the food. Your meeting with Becker went well, I take it."

"Your friend Mr. Becker was actually quite charming. He can't speak highly enough of you and was very impressed with the photos you took of the Sea Sentinel. At my urging, they checked out the Sen- tinel for themselves and found it had been sabotaged exactly as you described. We came to terms. They agreed to drop the charges against Marcus."

"Congratulations. No strings attached?"

"A whole ball of twine. Marcus and anyone associated with SOS, including yours truly, must be out of Denmark within the next forty- eight hours. We're booked to fly home on the Concorde tomorrow."

"The Concorde? SOS doesn't stint when it comes to travel, does it?" She shrugged. "The people who contribute millions to SOS don't seem to mind it, as long as the oceans are protected."

"I'll try that line with the NUMA bean counters who keep an eye on the travel budget. You'll be having lunch at Kinkaid's while I'm dining on rubber chicken at thirty-five thousand feet. Tell me, what other conditions did Becker impose?"

"No press conferences allowed on Danish soil. There can be no at- tempts to salvage the Sea Sentinel. And the only way we will ever step foot in Denmark is if we smuggle ourselves in as guest workers. Again, I can't thank you enough for all you've done."

"Everything comes with a price. Tell me all you know about Oceanus."

"Of course, I'll be glad to. As I said last time, Oceanus is a multi- national corporation dealing in fish products and transport. It oper- ates fleets of fishing boats and transport vessels around the world."