"Kurt!" she said with obvious delight. "It's wonderful to hear from you."
"Same here. How are things back at NUMA?"
Still smiling, Gamay brushed a strand of long, dark-red hair away from her forehead and said, "We've been treading water here since you and Joe left. I'm reading a new abstract on toadfish nerve re- search that could help cure balance problems in humans. Paul's at his computer working on a model of the Java Trench. I don't know when I've had so much excitement. I feel sorry for you and Joe. That daring rescue must have bored you to tears."
Paul Trout's computer was back-to-back with his wife's. Trout was staring at the screen in typical pose, with head dipped low, par- tially in thought, but also to accommodate his six-foot-eight height. He had light-brown hair parted down the middle in Jazz Age style and combed back at the temples. As always, he was dressed impec- cably, wearing a lightweight olive tan suit from Italy, and one of the colorful matching bow ties that were his addiction. He peered up- ward with hazel eyes, as if over glasses, although he wore contacts.
"Please ask our fearless leader when he's coming home," Paul said. "NUMA headquarters has been as quiet as a tomb while he and Joe have been making headlines."
Austin overheard Trout's question. "Tell Paul I'll be back at my desk in a few days. Joe's due later in the week, after he wraps up tests on his latest toy. I wanted to let you know where I'd be. I'm driving up the Faroe coast tomorrow to a little village called Skaalshavn."
"What's going on?" Gamay said.
"I want to look into a fish-farm operation run by a company called Oceanus. There may be a connection between Oceanus and the sink- ing of those two ships here in the Faroes. While I'm poking around, could you see what you can learn about this outfit? I don't have much to go on. Maybe Hiram can help out." Hiram Yeager was the com- puter whiz who rode herd on NUMA's vast database.
They chatted a few more minutes, with Austin filling Gamay in on the rescue of the Danish sailors, then hung up, with Gamay prom- ising to get right on the Oceanus request. She related the gist of her conversation with Austin.
"Kurt can whistle up a wind better than anyone I know," Paul said with a chuckle, alluding to the ancient belief that whistling on a ship can attract a storm. "What did he want to know about fish-farming, how to run your tractor underwater?"
"No, a grain binder," Gamay said with exaggerated primness. "How could I forget that you practically grew up on a fishing boat?"
"Just a simple son of a son of a fisherman, as Jimmy Buffett would say." Trout had been born on Cape Cod, into a fishing family. His an- cestral path had diverged when, as a youngster, he hung around the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Some of the scientists at the Institution had encouraged him to study oceanography. He'd re- ceived his Ph.D. in ocean science at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, specializing in deep-ocean geology, and was profi- cient in using computer graphics in his various undersea projects.
"I happen to know that despite your display of ignorance, you know a lot more about aquaculture than you let on."
"Fish-farming is nothing new. Back home, folks have been seeding and harvesting the clam and oyster flats for a hundred years or more."
"Then you know it's essentially the same principle, only extended to fin fish. The fish are bred in tanks and raised in open net cages that float in the ocean. The farms can produce fish in a fraction of the time it takes to catch them in the wild."
Paul frowned. "With the government clamping down on the wild fishery because of stock depletion, competition like that is the last thing a fisherman needs."
"The fish farmers would disagree. They say aquaculture produces cheaper food, provides employment and pours money into the econ- omy."
"As a marine biologist, where do you stand on the issue?" Gamay had received a degree in marine archaeology before chang- ing her field of interest and enrolling at Scripps, where she'd attained a doctorate in marine biology, and in the process met and married Paul.
"I guess I stand smack in the middle," she said. "Fish-farming does have benefits, but I'm a little worried that with big companies running the farms, things could get out of control."
"Which way is the wind blowing?"
"Hard to tell, but I can give you an example of what's happening. Imagine you're a politician running for office and the fish-farm in- dustry says it will invest hundreds of millions of dollars in the coastal communities, and that investment will generate jobs and billions of dollars each year in economic activity in your district. Which side would you back ?"
Trout let out a low whistle. "Billions? I had no idea there was that kind of money involved."
"I'm talking about a fraction of the world business. There are fish farms all over the world. If you've had salmon or shrimp or scallops lately, the fish you ate could have been raised in Canada or Thailand or Colombia."
"The farms must have incredible capacity to pump out fish in those quantities."
"It's phenomenal. In British Columbia, they've got seventy million farm-raised salmon compared to fifty-five thousand wild caught."
"How can the wild fishermen compete with production like that?"
"They cant" Gamay said, with a shrug. "Kurt was interested in a company called Oceanus. Let's see what I can find."
Her hands played over the computer keyboard. "Strange. Usually the biggest problem with the Internet is too much information. There's almost nothing on Oceanus. All I could find is this one- paragraph article saying that a salmon-processing plant in Canada had been sold to Oceanus. I'll peck around some more."
It took another fifteen minutes of hunting, and Paul was deep in the Java Trench again, when he heard Gamay finally say, "Aha!" "Pay dirt?"
Gamay scrolled down. "I found a few sentences about the acqui- sition buried in an industry newsletter story. Oceanus apparently owns companies around the world that are expected to produce more than five hundred million pounds a year. The merger gives market access in this country through an American subsidiary. The seller figures the U.S. will buy a quarter of what they produce."