White Death - Cussler Clive - Страница 16

Danish warship was involved."

"Which means SOS wouldn't win any popularity contests in Den- mark."

Becker brushed off his comment with an airy wave. "I've made my feelings clear. Those crazy people should be hanged for sinking our ship. But I am a realist. The whole regrettable incident would never have happened if it hadn't been for the Islanders' stubbornness in keeping their old customs."

"You mean the whale hunt?"

"I won't comment on the morality of the grindarap. Many in Den- mark regard the grind as a barbaric and unnecessary ritual. More important are the economic considerations. Companies that might buy Faroese fish or explore for oil don't want the public to think they are doing business with whale murderers. When the Faroese can't pay their bills, Copenhagen must open its pocketbook."

"So much for independence."

Becker smiled again. "The Danish government wants to resolve this case quickly, with the minimum amount of international pub- licity. We don't want these SOS people seen as courageous martyrs who acted rashly but in defense of helpless creatures."

"What do you want from me?"

"Please go beyond your technical observations in your testimony. We know what sank the cruiser. Feel free to emphasize the human suffering you witnessed. Our goal is to convict Ryan in the court of public opinion, then get these reckless hooligans out of our country and make sure they don't come back. We want to make sure that the world sees them as pariahs rather than martyrs. Perhaps then, some- thing like this won't happen again."

"Suppose Ryan is innocent in all this?"

"His innocence or guilt is of no concern to my government. There are greater issues at stake."

"As you say, a matter of great delicacy. I'll tell your people what I saw. That's all I can promise.

Becker nodded. "Fair enough. Shall we go in?"

The policeman opened the door, and Becker and Austin stepped inside the hearing room. Austin's eyes swept around the large dark- paneled chamber and took in the suits, presumably government and legal people, who filled several rows of chairs. He was wearing his usual working gear of jeans, turtleneck and windbreaker, having no need on board ship for dressier outfits. More suits sat behind a long wooden table at the front of the room. Sitting in a chair to the right of the table was a man in a uniform. He was speaking in Danish, his words taken down by a stenographer.

Becker indicated a seat, sat next to Austin, and whispered in his ear. "That's the representative from the coast guard. You're next."

The coast guard witness concluded a few minutes later, and Austin heard his own name called. Four men and two women sat at the table, with the group evenly divided between Faroese and Danish representatives. The magistrate, an avuncular Dane with a long Viking face, said his name was Lundgren. He explained to Austin that he would ask questions, with the others on the board offering follow-up. This was only an inquiry to collect an informational base, not a trial, he explained, so there would be no cross-examination. He would also translate when necessary.

Austin eased into the chair, and under questioning, offered a straightforward account of the rescue. He didn't have to embellish the suffering or the crew's ordeal in its dark and practically airless tomb. The expression on Becker's face showed that he was pleased with what he heard. Austin stepped down after forty-five minutes, with the thanks of the board. He was anxious to leave, but decided to stay when the court's chairman announced, in Danish and Eng- lish, that the captain of the Sea Sentinel would present his case.

Austin was curious how anyone could defend himself against eye- witness accounts. The door opened and two policemen walked in. Between them was a tall and ruggedly built man in his mid-forties. Austin took in the ginger Captain Ahab chin-fringe, the coifed hair and the gilt-trimmed uniforrri.

The magistrate asked the witness to sit down and introduce him- self.

"My name is Marcus Ryan," the man said, his gray eyes making direct contact with those in the audience. "I am the executive direc- tor of the Sentinels of the Sea organization and captain of the SOS flagship, the Sea Sentinel. For those who don't know us, SOS is an in- ternational organization dedicated to the preservation of the sea and the marine life that dwells within it."

"Please give the court an account of the events surrounding your collision with the Danish cruiser Leif Eriksson/'

Ryan started into a diatribe against the whale hunt. Speaking in a firm voice, the magistrate asked him to keep his remarks confined to the collision. Ryan apologized and described how the Sea Sentinel had suddenly veered toward the cruiser, striking it.

"Captain Ryan," Lundgren said with unconcealed amusement. "Do you mean to tell me that your ship attached and rammed the Leif Eriksson of its own accord?"

For the first time since he'd started testifying, Ryan lost his aplomb. "Uh, no, sir. I'm telling you that the controls of my ship did not respond."

"Let me see if I understand this clearly," said a woman on the board of inquiry. "You are saying that the ship took control of itself and went off on its merry way."

There was a ripple of laughter in the audience. "It seems so," Ryan conceded.

His admission opened the doors for a round of probing questions. The hearing may not have been adversarial, Austin thought, but the court was nibbling Ryan apart like a flock of hungry ducks. Ryan did his best to parry the questions, but with each reply, his case became weaker. Finally he lifted his hands, as if to say enough.

"I realize that my explanation raises more questions than it an- swers. But let me say this unequivocally, so there is no misunder- standing. We did not deliberately ram the Danish ship. I have witnesses who can back me up. You can check with Captain Pe- tersen. He'll tell you that I warned him."

"How long before the collision did this warning occur?" Lundgren asked.

Ryan took a deep breath and let it out. "Less than a minute before we hit."

Lundgren asked no further questions. Ryan was excused, and the female reporter from CNN took the stand. She was calm during her recounting of the collision, but she broke down and glared at Ryan with accusing eyes when she described the death other cameraman.

Lundgren signaled a court officer to insert a videotape into a TV set that had been set off to one side where everyone had a good view of the screen. The tape began to roll. It showed Ryan standing on the deck of his ship surrounded by reporters and photographers. There was some joking about rough seas, then the reporter's voice saying:

"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."