Ahead of them, a black Tahoe had pulled out onto the road from behind a huge boulder. For a second, he thought the SUV behind him had used a shortcut.
Then Gamay shouted, "There are two SUVs. They're trying to sandwich us in."
The vehicle in front of the Trouts' car slowed to block the road, and the other SUV quickly caught up from behind. Trout tried to go around, but each time he poked the rental car's nose into the on- coming lane, the SUV pulled in front of him. He touched the brakes to avoid a rear-end collision. The following SUV crashed into his rear bumper, crushing it into the trunk and sending the car into a neck- jolting wild fishtail.
Paul fought the wheel and managed to keep the car from going into a spin. The Tahoe slammed into the car again. The smell of gas from a ruptured tank filled the car. The Tahoe made another lunge, but this time Gamay saw it coming and yelled, "Right!"
Trout spun the wheel to the right and the Tahoe only clipped the bumper. Gamay glanced at the SUVs, which had pulled away.
"They're holding back for some reason."
"That won't last," Paul said. "Then we'd better do something soon. The rental agency is g
oing
to wonder why their car is only two feet long. Damn, he's coming in again. Left!"
Trout jerked the wheel. The car moved into the passing lane, and
Trout saw something that made his hair stand up on edge. The road curved sharply to the right. The Tahoes could keep them boxed in until the last minute. The SUV in front would screen the curve from view. Then it would slow to make the turn, and the one behind would knock them off the cliff like a cue stick tapping a billiard ball.
Paul yelled at Gamay to hold tight, and he gripped the wheel even tighter with his sweaty palms. He tried to remove all thought from his mind, relying only on instinct, keeping sharp watch in the rearview mirror. Timing would be crucial.
The vehicle on their tail began to accelerate. Trout made his move. When the SUV came within a few feet of the car's bumper, he jerked the wheel to the right.
The car hit the soft, sandy berm along the side of the road and drove up on the inclined shoulder like a race car on the angled track of a speedway. It crashed through bushes and small trees. Wood shrieked against metal.
He saw a flash of black as the Tahoe flew by him on the left. Then came a horrendous screech of brakes and a crash. The SUV that had been on his tail had slammed into the rear of the vehicle in front, locking bumpers. The lead vehicle tried to slow and turn, but the weight of the attached SUV made any turn impossible, and they were locked together. Both vehicles shot off the cliff like projectiles from a slingshot and plunged hundreds of feet in a fiery tandem death trap.
Trout was having his own problems. The banking had followed the contour of the road, and now it curved while the car maintained a straight trajectory. He lost all control as the car was airborne. Cen- trifugal force kept him pressed into the driver's door. The car landed at an angle, collapsing the wheels, with a sound like a junkyard sym- phony. He tried to glance over at Gamay, but the airbags deployed and all he could see was exploding white plastic.
Then only blackness.
16
WELCOME BACK TO Torshavn, Mr. Austin," said the friendly desk clerk at the Hotel Hania. "Your fishing trip up the coast went well, I trust."
"Yes, thanks. I ran into some very unusual fish." The efficient desk clerk handed Austin an envelope along with his room key. "This came in earlier today."
Austin opened the envelope and read the message neatly printed on hotel letterhead: I'm in Copenhagen. Staying at the Palace. Dinner offer still good? Therri.
Austin smiled as he thought of Them's incredible eyes and her dulcet voice. He must remember to play the lottery. Maybe the winds of good fortune were blowing in his direction. On a clean sheet of sta- tionery, he wrote a reply: Tonight at the Tivoli? He folded the paper, gave it to the desk clerk and asked him to send the message.
"Would you try to reserve a room for tonight at the Palace Hotel?" he said.
"I'd be happy to, Mr. Austin. I'll ready your bill for checkout."
Austin went up to his room, where he took a shower and shaved. The phone rang as he was toweling himself dry. The desk clerk said that his room at the Palace was all set and that he had taken the lib- erty of canceling the previous reservation at an airport hotel. Austin packed his bag and called Professor Jorgensen. The professor was in class, so Austin left a message saying he would like to see him later in the day if possible. He said he would be en route to Copenhagen and suggested that Jorgensen leave a reply at the Palace Hotel front desk.
Austin gave the desk clerk a generous tip, then he caught the hel- icopter shuttle from Torshavn to Vagar Airport and took the At- lantic Airways flight to Copenhagen. Later that day, the airport taxi dropped him off at Radhuspladen, the city's main square. He made his way past the statue of Hans Christian Andersen and the spout- ing dragon water fountains to the stately old Palace Hotel overlook- ing the busy square. Two messages waited for him. One was from Therri: Tivoli it is! See you at six. The other note was from Professor Jorgensen, saying he would be in his office all afternoon.
Austin dropped his duffel bag off in his room and called the pro- fessor to tell him he was on his way. As Austin was leaving the hotel, it occurred to him that jeans and turtleneck were hardly appropri- ate for a night out with a beautiful woman. He stopped at a men's clothing shop in the concourse and, with the help of a knowledgeable salesman, quickly picked out what he wanted. A hefty bribe to the salesman and tailor insured that the clothes would be ready for him at five.
The University of Copenhagen campus was a short cab ride from the central square. The Marine Biological Laboratory was part of the Zoological Institute. Park lawns surrounded the two-story brick building. The professor's cubicle had exactly enough room to ac- commodate a desk and computer and two chairs and a clutter limit that the professor had far exceeded. Graphs and charts covered the walls, and folders were piled everywhere.
"Pardon the mess," he apologized. "My main office is at the Helsingor campus. I use this closet when I'm teaching classes here." He removed a pile of papers from a chair to make room for Austin. Nonplussed at what to do with the mess, he placed it precariously atop a teetering stack of other papers on his desk. "Wonderful to see you again, Kurt," he said with his big-toothed grin. "I'm so glad you were able to make it to our beautiful city."
"It's always a pleasure to visit Copenhagen. Unfortunately, my flight back to the States leaves tomorrow, so I only have one night here."