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 Danish navy department. He might be able to help.”

“I don't understand. Why would the Danes want to help Marcus after all the awful things they've said about him?”