White Death - Cussler Clive - Страница 61

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Austin glanced down at the folder. "Either Blackthorne survived or his memoirs were ghostwritten."

"He had nine lives, our Captain Blackthorne. He actually escaped once from the Spanish but was recaptured. He was eventually dragged from his dark cell in irons to stand trial. The prosecutor called him an enemy of the faith and 'other opprobrious names,' as he put it. He was condemned to death and was headed for the stake, when fate intervened in the unlikely form ofEl Brasero."

"Isn't that the name of a Mexican restaurant in Falls Church?" "You're asking the wrong man. I've always considered 'Mexican' and 'restaurant' uttered in the same sentence as no less an oxymoron than 'military intelligence.' El Brasero means 'brazier' in Spanish. It was the nickname given the aforementioned Martinez for his zeal in putting the torch to heretics."

"Not the type you would invite to a barbecue."

"No, but he proved to be Blackthorne's savior. The Englishman impressed Martinez with his resourcefulness, and his ability to speak Spanish, but more important, Blackthorne was familiar with war galleys and sailing ships."

"That shows the lengths to which Martinez would go to catch

Aguirrez, even sparing a victim."

"Oh, yes. We know from his writings that he thought Aguirrez was especially dangerous because he had been charged with the steward- ship of the Roland relics and might use them to rally his countrymen against the Spaniards. When Aguirrez escaped arrest in his ship, Mar- tinez went after him. Blackthorne was commanding Brasero's lead galley when they caught up with Aguirrez on his caravel off the coast of France in 1515. Although he was becalmed, outnumbered and out- gunned, Aguirrez managed to sink two galleys and put Martinez to flight."

"The more I learn about Diego, the more I like him." Perlmutter nodded. "His strategy was brilliant. I intend to include this fight in a collection I'm preparing of classic sea battles. Unfor- tunately, Brasero had the services of an informer who knew that Aguirrez always stopped in the Faroe Islands to rest before crossing the ocean to North America."

Austin leaned forward in his chair and murmured, "Skaalshavn." "You know it?"

"I was in Skaalshavn a few days ago."

"Can't say I'm familiar with the place."

"Can't blame you, it's quite remote. A picturesque little fishing vil- lage with a natural harbor of refuge. There are some interesting caves nearby."

"Caves?" The blue eyes danced with excitement. "Quite an extensive network. I've seen them. From the drawings on the walls, I'd say they've been occupied off and on going back to ancient times. The Basques, or others, may have been using them for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years."

"Blackthorne mentions the caves in his narrative. In fact, they were instrumental in his story." "In what way?"

"Aguirrez could easily have outdistanced his pursuers and fled to North America, where Brasero would never find him. The Basques were the only mariners intrepid enough to sail the Atlantic in those days. But Diego knew that Brasero would go after his family. And he knew that even if he stashed the relics in North America, when he returned to Europe, Brasero would be waiting."

"Maybe he decided to take a stand for the most primal of reasons," Austin said. "He wanted his revenge on the man who had ruined his life and stolen his fortune."

"No disagreement there. Brasero was just as determined to finish the job he'd started. He had switched from his galley to a warship twice the size of Diego's caravel. He had put Blackthorne in com- mand. The ship bristled with guns that would have made short work of the Basques. But Diego knew from their previous encounter of the informant on board Brasero's ship and prudently moved the caravel away from the caves. Diego stationed a handful of his men on shore, where they could be seen by Brasero, and when Martinez launched his boats, the men ran into the caves, drawing their pursuers after them."

"I smell a trap." "You've got a better nose than Martinez, although in fairness, he

was probably distracted by thoughts of all the fun he was going to have burning Diego and his crew."

"Shades of Custer's Last Stand. That cave system is a labyrinth. Perfect to stage an ambush."

"Then I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that's what hap- pened. It was a two-pronged strategy. The caravel swept down on the warship and cowed its skeleton crew with a few cannon shots. Then they boarded the ship and took it over. Meanwhile, Diego launched his ambush. He had dragged one of his ship's cannon into the caves and used it to take the wind out of the attack." Perlmutter raised a pudgy fist as if he were reliving the battle. "Brasero was a skilled swordsman, but Aguirrez was better. Instead of killing him, he toyed with Martinez before he doused Brasero's flame forever."

"Where was Mr. Blackthorne in all this?"

"One of Brasero's men went to take a shot at Diego. Blackthorne killed the man. Diego had his men bring Blackthorne to him. The Englishman laid out his story. Diego needed a skilled captain to command the warship, so he made a deal. Blackthorne would take charge of the ship and get Diego's men home safely. Several weeks later, by Blackthorne's account, he sailed up the Thames with his prize."

"What happened to the Roland relics?"

"Blackthorne never mentions them. But by his account, Diego called for a small volunteer crew to stay with him and sent the oth- ers home with Blackthorne. Diego no longer needed gunners and cannon crew, only skilled sailors. Even with Brasero dead, he knew the relics would not be safe as long as the Inquisition was alive. So he continued west, never to be heard from again. Another unsolved mystery of the sea."

"Maybe not/' Austin said. He handed Perlmutter the news clip about the zeppelin crash.

Perlmutter read the story and looked up. "These unusual 'items' Heinz mentions could be the long-lost relics."

"My thoughts exactly. Which means they're in the hands of Oceanus."

"Would Oceanus give them up?"

Austin thought of his run-ins with the Oceanus thugs. "Not likely," he said, with a rueful chuckle.

Perlmutter gazed at Austin over tented ringers. "It seems there is more to this whole saga than meets the eye."

"A hell of a lot more, and I'll be glad to tell you all the gory details over another cup of coffee." Austin lifted his cup. "As long as you're up, old boy, could you fetch me a refill? Get one for yourself."

AUSTIN ARRIVED THREE minutes before his appointed meeting time with Aguirrez. After leaving Perlmutter's house, Austin drove down Embassy Row. The gods that look over Wash- ington drivers were smiling, and he found a parking space with no trouble. He walked along Pennsylvania Avenue until he stood in front of a square building that consisted of several dark-glass stories grafted onto some old Washington houses. Austin read the sign next to the front door and wondered if he had the wrong address. Given the troubles the Aguirrez family had had with the Spanish authori- ties through the centuries, the last place he would have expected to find Balthazar was at the embassy of Spain.

Austin gave his name to a security guard at the door and was passed on to the receptionist, who punched out a number on her in- tercom phone and spoke in Spanish to someone on the line. Then she smiled and, in a lovely accent that evoked visions of Castile, said

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