"Mr. Aguirrez is with the ambassador. He'll be with you in a mo- ment."

A few minutes later, Aguirrez came strolling out of a hallway. Aguirrez had shed his blue sweat suit and black beret and was im- peccably dressed in a dark-gray suit that would have cost Austin a week's pay. But even the best of tailors couldn't hide the peasant hands and sturdy physique. He was talking to a snowy-haired man who walked beside him, hands behind his back, head lowered in thought as he listened intently to what the Basque was saying. Aguir- rez saw Austin and waved at him. The two men broke off their con- versation, parting with warm handshakes and smiles. Aguirrez

strode over to where Austin stood and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Mr. Austin," he said cheerfully. "How nice to see you again. I'm sorry I didn't introduce you to the ambassador, but he was late for a meeting. Come this way."

Aguirrez led Austin down a hallway to a door into what had been a drawing room in one of the old houses that were part of the em- bassy complex. The centerpiece was an oversized marble fireplace, and the room itself was comfortably appointed with plush rugs and heavy, dark wood furniture. Oil paintings of Spanish rural scenes decorated the walls.

As they took their seats, Aguirrez evidently noted the wondering look on Austin's face, because he said, "You look puzzled, Mr. Austin."

Austin saw no reason to beat around the bush. "I'm surprised to find you here-a man accused of being a Basque terrorist within the walls of the Spanish Embassy."

Aguirrez didn't seem offended. "You have obviously looked into my background, which I expected, so you know that the accusations have not been substantiated."

"Still, I noticed that you're not wearing your black beret." Aguirrez gave out a booming laugh. "In deference to my hosts, I have shed my chapeau, although I miss wearing it. I think that some in this building might think I had a bomb under the beret, and their nervousness would interfere with our work."

"Which is?"

"To settle the Basque problem peacefully once and for all."

"That's a tall order after hundreds of years of conflict."

"I'm confident it can be accomplished."

"What happened to your ancestral quest?"

"The past and the present are inseparable in this cause. The Basque separatists want a homeland. The Spanish government has experi- mented with autonomy, with unfortunate results. If I find the relics I am looking for, their discovery could set off an emotional wave of Basque nationalism. I know my people. It would tear Spain apart."

"So you have suddenly become very important to the Spanish gov- ernment."

He nodded. "I have met with high-level officials in Madrid who asked me to inform your State Department people of the situation and assure them I am not a terrorist. I have agreed, once I find the relics, to put them in safekeeping."

"What's to prevent you from going back on your word?"

The Basque frowned, and a dangerous expression came to his dark eyes. "It is a logical question, and one the Spanish government also asked. I told them that I will honor the memory of my ancestor, who was chosen to be the guardian of the relics. In return, the Span- ish government will take graduated, meaningful steps toward Basque autonomy."

"You're using the relics as leverage?"

He shrugged. "I prefer to call it a solution that takes into account our mutual interests."

"Not a bad deal, considering the fact that you don't have the relics."

"A technicality," he said, the broad smile returning. "I have un- earthed information on the sea routes my ancestor took to the New World. The Basques were in the Faroes as early as 875. After stop- ping at the Faroes, Diego would head for Newfoundland or Labrador. There is ample precedent for this theory. My people fished for cod and whales off North America as far back as the Middle Ages."

"I've read that Cabot found Indians using words that could have had a Basque origin."

"No doubt about it!" he said, his face flushing with excitement. "My research indicates that there are some unexplored caves near Channel-Port aux Basques in Newfoundland. I will rejoin my yacht there as soon as I clear up my business here, and I am convinced that before long I will hold the sword and horn of Roland in my hands."

Austin paused, wondering how he could gently break the news, then decided that it could not be done. "There may be a problem," he said.

Aguirrez eyed Austin warily. "What do you mean?" Austin handed over an envelope containing a copy of the Black- thorne manuscript. "This material suggests that the relics may not be where you think they are." Austin proceeded to lay out the story Perlmutter had told him. As Aguirrez listened, storm clouds seemed to move in and perch on his brow.

"I know of St. Julien Perlmutter through my own research. He is highly respected as a sea historian." "There is none more knowledgeable."

Aguirrez slammed a fist into his palm. "I Ifnew Diego wasn't killed by Brasero. He escaped with the relics."

"There's more," Austin said. He handed Aguirrez the news clip detailing the interview with the zeppelin's survivor.

"I still don't understand," the Basque said after reading the article. "Oceanus is the owner of the zeppelin that found your ancestor's boat locked in the ice."

Aguirrez saw the connection immediately. "You believe that Oceanus has the sacred relics in its possession?"

"It's a good bet if you follow the chain of evidence." "And in your view, Oceanus can't be approached on this matter?" "I don't think Oceanus can be approached on anythmg Austin said, with a rueful chuckle. "You recall my boating accident? I have a confession to make. An Oceanus security guard blew up my boat with a hand grenade."

"And I must confess that I never believed your story about engine fumes."

"While we're in a confessing mood," Austin said, "maybe you can tell me why your men followed me to Copenhagen."

"A precaution. To be frank, I didn't know what to make of you. I knew from your identity card that you were with NUMA, but I didn't know why you were poking into the Oceanus operation, and assumed it must be an official mission. My curiosity was stirred, so I decided to keep an eye on you. You made no effort to hide your movements. My men happened to be nearby when you were at- tacked. How is the young lady you were with, by the way?" "She's fine, thanks to the alertness of your men." "Then you're not angry at being followed?" "Not at all, but I wouldn't like to see you make it a habit." "I understand." Aguirrez paused in thought. "Am I correct to as- sume the men who attacked you were from Oceanus?"

"That seems a safe conclusion. The attackers resembled the guards I encountered at the Oceanus operation in the Faroes."

"Oceanus tried to kill you twice. Be careful, my friend, they may try again."

"They already have."

Aguirrez didn't ask for details, and it was obvious he had other things on his mind. He rose from his chair and paced the room Blackthorne's manuscript clutched in his hand. "The people here must not know of this material. Without the relics, the Spanish gov- ernment will lose its incentive to move on Basque autonomy. But this goes beyond political matters," he said in a hollow voice. "I have failed my ancestor Diego by not finding the relics."