Of course at the time, Belov hadn’t bribed the men to aid him as much as to prevent them from blowing the Forel out of the water once it became evident that the plan had gone awry. Something Belov fought hard to avoid…only to see the Chinese do it instead.
It wasn’t Belov’s first choice, although given the circumstances, being sentenced to Zhirov’s submarine was not the worst punishment. In fact, the more he considered it, the more beneficial it was. Not only did he have one of the best captains in the Russian fleet, but unlike the older Forel sub, which had been abruptly retrofitted, Zhirov’s boat was very modern and a very deadly weapon, virtually impervious to enemy sonar.
And yet the one thing he was certain of, more than anything else, was that nothing would ultimately go according to plan.
30
It was a plan that already felt as if it were coming apart at the seams. At least for Alison. Every surprise, at least in her mind, had been followed by a gut-wrenching consequence.
She sat motionlessly in her chair, staring at the phone on her desk. The small red light was still blinking. And it would continue to blink until she went through all the messages. Which she wouldn’t.
She lowered her face into her hands just as the phone rang again. Without looking, she lowered a finger and pressed the large button with a message icon on it, sending it to voicemail along with the others.
The retraction had finally been published. In a crushing blow, her reputation was permanently tarnished. And the calls flooding in now were little more than scandalous probes from scientific publications veiled as inquiries. Cynics hungry for condemnation.
As the echo of the last ring faded away, she heard a knock on the open door of her office. When she looked up, she saw John Clay watching her from the doorway, keeping himself up steadily now with only a cane.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.
“No. Not really.”
Clay stepped in and quietly crossed the room until he was beside her, where he dropped a hand gently around her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
Alison closed her eyes. “It’s like I’ve got a giant knot in my stomach––that feels like nothing I’ve done even matters anymore.”
“It does,” Clay said. “People just aren’t ready.”
“What if they just don’t want to be ready?”
Clay frowned and reached out to pull a second chair closer. He then sat down and faced Alison somberly. “I know how you feel.”
She glared at him sarcastically. “No, you don’t. You’re perfect.”
He laughed at her joke. “I’m far from perfect, Ali.”
“Uh huh.”
Clay watched her, with a smile. “I don’t like broccoli.”
“What?”
“I don’t like broccoli,” he repeated. “I hate it.”
She folded her arms and tilted her head. “Oh, please.”
“I hate beets too. And I’m not a huge fan of heights.”
Alison’s eyes widened. “You’re afraid of heights?!”
Clay nodded.
“You…afraid of heights!”
He shrugged. “I said I wasn’t a fan.”
“Now that, I don’t believe. I’ve seen you—”
“It doesn’t mean I liked it,” he grinned.
“But, you didn’t…”
“Panic? No, I didn’t. I had to talk myself through it. My point is, I’m not perfect, Ali. Not by a long shot. None of us are. And the frustration you’re feeling is the same frustration I felt when I was a SEAL. Like a feeling of purpose wrapped inside a blanket of thanklessness. No one outside of a very small department ever knew what we did. And to make it worse, those times that the public did find out, the government lied about it or twisted the story until it was almost unrecognizable. In the beginning, I considered it a necessary evil, required to protect our great country. But after enough years, I began to realize that’s not true. That instead we are nothing more than a political pawn. Fighting over things that really only matter to some very powerful people.” He paused before continuing. “A lot of men have died for this country. Good men. Men of integrity and loyalty. And men that didn’t deserve to die for a lie.”
Clay stared into Alison’s reddened eyes. “But this is different. People may not know about it, yet, but it doesn’t change the fact that the entire world has just evolved into more than it was. How long it takes the planet to know and accept it is another story. And as much as we might not want to admit it, that part is not really up to us. The painful truth is that real change always takes longer than we expect. But you are making a difference in the world. A huge difference. I know it, our team knows it, and most importantly, you know it. So who cares what the rest of the world thinks?”
Alison’s face softened as she listened to his words. He was right. As painful as it was, some things were simply not under their control. “That may be true, but God, when do our own sacrifices end?”
Clay took her hand and kissed it. “The greater the struggle, the greater the life.”
She looked down at her hand, still inside his. She took a deep breath. Her eyes followed his muscular arms up and over his shoulders, then back into his eyes. She ended at his dark, wavy hair.
“What do you worry about, John?”
His lip curled at the question. It was an easy one. “I worry about you,” he said.
“About me? Why?”
Clay squeezed her hand. “My greatest fear is for us not to be able to grow old together.”
She melted. Alison leaned forward and placed her head gently against his chest. She’d never felt safer with anyone else in her life.
Still resting against him, Alison had a thought and suddenly smiled. “You know…Steve would say you guys are already old.”
***
When they emerged from her office, they found Lee Kenwood climbing the wide set of stairs.
He stopped and looked up at them. “We’re ready.”
Alison, still holding Clay’s hand, looked down at the room below them. The desks and tables sitting solemnly, near the glass wall of the giant saltwater tank. Their area seemed eerily quiet as if waiting for them.
***
Inside the tank, Sally and Dirk watched Alison on the second level. Her face was still and eyes filled with sorrow. They had never seen her quite like this: struggling to let go…to move on.
They felt her pain and both dolphins floated side by side in the water, wondering if they’d ever be back. Judging from Alison’s appearance, they wouldn’t.
Sally drifted forward, nosing up to the glass, and watched Alison as she descended the stairs. After crossing the carpeted floor, Alison flattened her hand against the tank. She left it there for a long time before Sally spoke.
We ready Alison. We go now. Beautiful.
On the other side, Alison listened to the translation and merely nodded her head. She then let her hand fall from the glass and turned around to face Clay and Lee. Her eyes scanned the room before stopping on IMIS. The giant computer loomed large against the far wall, made up of racks filled with servers from top to bottom. Their fans created a gentle hum, with hundreds of green lights blinking on and off. A reminder that it was forever churning through its data, searching for ever more complex relationships between the languages.
The rest of the room was surprisingly nondescript: blank white walls and dark, two-tone carpet. The simplicity of not just the room but their entire research center seemed odd now. Almost surreal.
With that, she blinked and followed the men out through a door on the other side of the tank and up a set of stairs. While they climbed, Dirk and Sally darted up and through the deep concrete channel extending out to the shallow beach and the open ocean beyond.
At the shore, a long dock extended much farther over the water. It served as a lingering reminder of the old cannery that had once occupied the site. Most of the dock had been repaired and now held a large Teknicraft aluminum-hulled catamaran, tied securely to the dock�
��s cleats from both bow and stern.
Alison mused at the sight of their latest boat. They’d been going through boats faster than…well, almost as fast as Dirk went through fish.
They reached the dock to find DeeAnn and Dulce already waiting. Their friend was wearing her dark gray translation vest.
“You okay?” DeeAnn asked.
“Yeah. It’s just sobering, that’s all.”
“I completely understand. It just hasn’t been the same since Juan.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Alison turned and looked back at their research center. The paint was already beginning to fade under the punishment of an unrelenting Puerto Rican sun. The windows seemed older and a little dirtier than she remembered. Or was it just her mind trying to help her let go?
Dirk and Sally appeared next to them in the water.
No sad Alison. We journey.
She smiled at Sally. “No sad.”
They all turned when Dulce rocked from side to side excitedly, then promptly squatted down on the edge of the wooden planks. Alison reached out next to her and patted Dirk on the nose.
DeeAnn tried to smile. “Don’t worry. We’re going to see you soon.”
“I know,” Alison nodded. She looked back at the center briefly. “Funny. Doing the right thing doesn’t make it feel any better.”
“You’re starting to sound like me.”
Alison chuckled and hugged her, then Dulce, who instinctively rose up to embrace Alison with her long fur-covered arms. With an affectionate pat on the gorilla’s head, she turned and approached the short ladder to the boat.
On the side, black hand-painted letters read U.S.S. Dubois and following those was a brightly-colored addition: and Juan. Once under the shade, she sat quietly down in the cockpit. And hoped it was all worth it.
Less than ten minutes later they cast off, with dual engines rumbling aft, churning the water and pulling the craft backward in a slight arcing motion.
The distance between them and the dock continued to grow until Clay finally pushed both throttle levers forward and unleashed the roar of the engines.
31
Two hours later, Dulce burst out from a group of dense bushes, her heart pounding and small black chest heaving. The gorilla’s wide eyes darted back and forth. Searching but finding nothing, she turned around and looked behind her.
She wrinkled her large nostrils and breathed heavily in and out. The smell was all around her. After several seconds, she took a small step and eased forward, now listening carefully.
She never heard it coming.
Just above her head, from the bottom branch of a tree, his small gray head appeared. Without making a sound, Dexter lowered himself down, first by his legs then by his strong tail wrapped firmly around the branch.
Dulce stopped breathing and kept pivoting around, then jumped in the air unexpectedly when Dexter reached down and gave her a playful thump on the head.
She let loose a flurry of shrieks and grunts, smiling and then laughing. Dexter was very good at playing hide. And very sneaky.
The smaller capuchin fell from the tree to the ground and howled. He pointed his tiny hand at Dulce.
You. You.
Dulce laughed so hard she rolled over, continuing all the way back onto her feet.
***
From the lab upstairs, DeeAnn sat in Lee’s chair, leaning onto the desk and watching from his monitor. The habitat was fully illuminated beneath the darkness of the night sky. Inside, a gentle flow of air-conditioning washed over her from above, drying the last of her perspiration.
Playtime between the two was amazing. Not just from a maternal standpoint but from an analytical one as well. The comradery between the two primates was simply fascinating. And she could clearly see the communication between them taking place, even if IMIS couldn’t translate it.
It still didn’t make complete sense to her. If IMIS could translate between Dulce and Sally, then why wasn’t it deciphering between Dulce and Dexter? Lee had explained it was because IMIS hadn’t recorded enough of Dexter’s sounds and mannerisms to begin decrypting them. But if Dulce understood it, why couldn’t IMIS when it already understood her communication patterns? Lee’s answer to that was because the limited amount that IMIS had already decrypted of the gorilla’s language was still very superficial. The tip of the iceberg really.
She followed Dexter on the screen from camera to camera as he searched for Dulce. He was fascinating to watch. He moved differently. To anyone else, there was little difference between him and the monkey they might see in a zoo. But to DeeAnn’s trained eye, the distinctions could not be more obvious. Dexter moved differently and much more like a human. Not anatomically, but cognitively. The way he watched and observed. Not just the way he saw the environment but the way he understood it. When the wind blew, he would search for the direction of it. And he would study the water funneling through the small artificial stream for hours.
The hair samples she’d taken from him, and the resulting DNA tests, confirmed that he was very old for a capuchin: almost one hundred, which was unheard of. And it suggested that his enhanced cognitive ability was not only due to brain-related genetic changes but also due to his longer life. That enhanced intelligence wasn’t only possible through physiological changes. It was also developed through experience and time. Or in other words, wisdom.
She was watching it before her eyes. Dexter was measurably smarter, which called into question a very big and very controversial theory.
Lucy was the name of the hominin remains discovered in Ethiopia, Africa, and believed by most of the scientific world to be the missing link between apes and humans. It was the crux from where a significant leap forward took place to get humans to where they were today. And while some of that catalyst was related to physiology, DeeAnn now believed that some of it may have also been related to a longer life span. After all, the smarter the species became, the longer they lived. And the more time they had to learn from their mistakes and successes. Something hardly considered before, but Dexter was a living example of that potential. He was the modern equivalent. A second missing link.
***
There was a knock on the door, and she turned to see Bruna peek inside. “I’m sorry, Misses DeeAnn.”
DeeAnn smiled. “Come in, Bruna.” She still thought it funny that Bruna called her “Misses DeeAnn,” especially since they were nearly the same age.
Bruna stepped inside and crossed the large room. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Not at all. What can I do for you?”
The shorter Puerto Rican woman noted the video feed on the monitor and smiled. “I just wanted to talk more before your trip. You want me to keep all machines on, yes?”
“Yes. Just like last time. At least for a while.” Bruna had been a godsend over the last year, keeping on top of all the daily needs of the center. Bruna handled the food and provisions, internal and external maintenance of the old building, and the coordination of the children and their field trips. She was amazing and multitasked like an expert. When asked, she claimed it came from being a mother. And DeeAnn believed it, given that Bruna had six children.
She also had a sixth sense about her, an intuition, which often allowed her to pick up on things others missed.
Now was one of those times.
“Can I help you please, or the monkeys?”
“No, I think we’re all ready. Thank you. Just a ride to the airport would be great.”
“Yes, yes.” She nodded. “I will take you. Early.”
“Thank you, Bruna. I really appreciate it.”
The woman smiled broadly and nodded. She backed up and returned to the large double doors where she slipped out with barely a sound.
DeeAnn continued staring after her long after both doors had closed. She hated the feeling of keeping something from them, even from Dulce and Dexter. But she had no choice. The smaller Dexter was already skittish, and understandably so, given what he’d been through. Unfortunat
ely, that meant she couldn’t take any chances.
Her goal was to keep her two charges as calm and comfortable as possible. For the next three days.
More than that, DeeAnn knew something the rest of her team didn’t. Something she had been reluctant to accept. Even though, down deep, she knew it was true. A sickening dread that told her she could not pretend any longer.
There were simply too many signs to be ignored.
She reached into a breast pocket and withdrew her phone. She then sat it down on Lee’s desk and stared at it for a long time. Because once she made the call and let the information out, there would be no putting it back into the bottle.
DeeAnn closed her eyes for a moment before slowly opening them again, and began dialing.
When his phone rang, Will Borger was gripping a section of railing and trying to steady himself over the violent rocking of their small boat. It was a supply craft, used for transferring items back and forth to the rig, and kept secured beneath the platform during the day to avoid being picked up by aerial photos.
But it was no match for the incoming storm. A small tropical storm building from the southeast had changed the conditions drastically. It caused their boat to pitch wildly as they motored through the steep swells. With every up and down motion, Borger gripped the rail tighter and prayed that he wouldn’t get sick before they reached the Pathfinder.
Upon hearing the ringing from his phone, he switched hands and attempted to steady himself by widening his stance. With his free hand, he pulled the phone out and studied the screen before answering.
“Hello?”
“Will, it’s DeeAnn.”
He looked curiously at Caesare who was watching from several feet away, though seemingly much less affected by the boat’s pitching. “Hey, Dee. What’s up?”
Ripple (Breakthrough Book 4) Page 12