Chapters (45)
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
- NUMA 4 - White Death
They shook hands and Austin climbed into the shuttle for the short trip to the Western Harbor. Happy to be on dry land once more after weeks on and under the sea, he made his way along the cob- blestone quay past the line of fishing boats. The capital city of the Faroe Islands was named Torshavn, “Thor's Harbor,” after the mightiest of the Scandinavian gods. Despite its thundering namesake, Torshavn was a quiet settlement located on a headland between two busy boat harbors.
Austin would have preferred to explore the narrow streets that ran between the colorful old houses, but a glance at his watch told him he had better get moving if he wanted to make the hearing. He dropped his duffel bag off at the hotel room that Becker had arranged for him. He figured he wouldn't be in the Faroes more than another day or so, and decided to leave whether Becker wanted him to or not. On his way out, he asked the desk to book him a flight to Copen- hagen in two days.
His destination was a short walk up the hill toward Vaglio Square in the heart of the city's commercial center. A few minutes later, he stopped in front of an impressive nineteenth-century building built ofdark-hued basalt. The plaque on the exterior identified the struc- ture as the Raohus, or Town Hall. He mentally girded his loins for the ordeal ahead. As an employee of a federal agency, Austin was no stranger to the hazards of navigating governmental seas. The rescue of the men trapped in the LeifErisson might have been the easiest part of his Faroese adventure, he reflected.
The receptionist in the Raohus lobby told Austin how to get to the hearing room. He followed a corridor to a door guarded by a burly policeman and identified himself. The officer told him to wait and slipped into the room. He reappeared a moment later with Becker. Taking Austin by the arm, Becker moved out of earshot.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Austin.” He glanced at the policeman and lowered his voice. “This matter requires a great deal of delicacy. Do you know anything about the Faroe Islands government?”
“Only that there's an affiliation with Denmark. I don't know the details.”
“Correct. The Islands are part of the Kingdom of Denmark, but they have had home rule since 1948. They're quite independent, even keeping their own language. However, when they get into financial trouble, they don't hesitate to ask Copenhagen for money,” he said, with a faint smile. "This incident occurred in Faroese waters, but a
Danish warship was involved."
“Which means SOS wouldn't win any popularity contests in Den- mark.”