Return to The Deep (From The Deep Book 2)

by Michael Bray

  "Got it," he said, grinning at Decker.

  "Fantastic work, you just earned yourself one hell of a bonus," Decker said. “Just don’t lose it."

  "Merci, Mr Decker. The tooth will be quite safe until we reach the surface. The R.O.V has a sample box in its underbelly. It will be safe there until we are back on board the Emerald."

  "Excellent. A successful mission all around," Decker said.

  "Mister Decker, forgive me for asking, but what will you do now you have the tooth?"

  Decker smiled. "Jacques, in this world, you can have all the money in the world and still be powerless without a little thing called leverage, and that tooth, my Gaelic friend, is a great big chunk of it."

  "But still, what will you do?"

  "Whatever I want to Jacques," Decker replied with a smile, "whatever the hell I want to."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Back at the motel, the mood hadn’t been improved by the trip to the bar. Jim sat on one of the two beds, staring at the television screen. Marie had returned to her position on the floor and she had been joined by Fernando. Joanne and Tom were on the other bed, also watching the news. There was no desire to speak. All of them knew the situation even if they were no closer to knowing what to do about it. Although they had all had a little to drink, it was only Jim who had indulged himself, and was glassy eyed as he stared through the television to whatever private oblivion he was imagining.

  The news crews were now reporting from both locations. One crew was at the beach, the other by the roadside where the driver had been killed. Both scenes were taped off and surrounded by crowds of rubberneckers who were trying to get a look at the grisly view.

  "I wish they'd show something else already," Tom said as he adjusted position.

  "They won’t," Joanne replied. "This is big news around here."

  "It still doesn’t help us to figure out what we're gonna do," Fernando interjected.

  "For now we should just-"

  There was a knock on the door.

  Worried glances were exchanged as Tom started to get off the bed.

  "No, ignore it," Jim whispered.

  "I can’t, they'll know we're in here. The TV and the lights will give us away."

  "It could be anyone though, it's too risky."

  "It will look more suspicious if we don’t answer. Everyone just stay calm," Tom said as he crossed the room.

  He took a moment to compose himself, gave a final glance to the others, and then opened the door.

  Tom immediately recognised the man from the bar. He was distinct enough anyway as is, without the obvious disability of the missing hand.

  "You're those kids from the bar," the man said, his accent heavy Australian.

  "Did you follow us here?" Tom said as Fernando and Joanne joined him at the door.

  "Yeah, I followed you."

  "Why?"

  "Why d'ya think?" Greg said with a half-smile.

  "Sorry, you have the wrong people," Joanne said, reaching past Tom and starting to close the door.

  "I don’t think so, girly," Greg said. "I don’t think so at all."

  "If you don’t go away, we'll be forced to call the police," she countered.

  "Come on," he said, "we both know you won’t do that."

  "Buddy, you don’t know shit," Tom said.

  "I know more than you think. For example, I know that whatever was on that trailer you stole, wasn’t a whale like they’re saying on the news."

  "Look, I’m sorry, but we don't know what you're talking about," Joanne said.

  "No, maybe you don’t, but he does," Greg replied, pointing at Tom. "I can see it in his eyes. He knows what he's done, what kind of thing he's set free, don’t you?"

  Tom looked at Joanne, too shocked to formulate a response.

  "If you kids really wanna know what it is you’re dealing with, you better let me in. Unless of course, you want to get into it right here on the doorstep."

  "What do you know about it?" Tom said.

  Greg held up his stump. "I know it well enough. Let’s just say that for now."

  "Alright, you better come in."

  "Tom!"

  "No, Joanne. It's obvious he knows about this. Maybe he can help us."

  "You should listen to your friend," Greg said, grinning at Joanne. "Believe me, you're gonna want to hear this."

  With nothing else to say, Greg walked into the motel room. He turned the wooden chair at the dresser around to the face the inquisitive group and sat down. The others perched on the bed, watching and waiting to see what would be said. Greg looked at them each in turn, trying to figure out if they actually knew the magnitude of what they had done.

  "Look, pal, you better start talking fast about who you are and what you know," Jim said, his agitation plain to see.

  "Hold your horses, kid. I'm getting to it," Greg said, taking another few seconds to gather his thoughts. Finally ready, he went on. "The name's Michaels. Greg Michaels. Five years ago, I had a thriving shark fishing business. I had a life, I was getting by, or at least I was until I had an encounter with one of those things you freed. In the end, it cost me my business, my hand, and any worthwhile aspect of my life. I had my suspicions the government would have something to do with it. This just proves my point. Now, you lot are responsible for lettin' this thing loose."

  "Look, take a step back. You're rushing ahead here," Tom said, glancing at the others. "You need to explain."

  "I'll explain alright, and then we all need to talk about what happens next."

  Greg waited for any protest, and then continued, recalling the memories with ease.

  "It happened when I took a client with the intention of going shark spotting off the coast of Australia..."

  For the next thirty minutes, Greg told his story, leaving out nothing, giving every detail as he remembered it. For the duration of his account, the others watched, captivated by the horrific scenes as Greg described them. It was the first time he had spoken out loud about what had happened, and he found that to say it, cut him even deeper than just the memories. He finished his account, and waited to see how the others would react. Fernando was the one who spoke first, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

  "We didn’t know. I mean, how could we have known?"

  "No good feeling sorry now, kid. It's done, and this thing is free."

  "Look, Mr Michaels, I’m sorry for what happened to you, I really am. You have to understand this isn’t our fault," Tom said.

  "Never said it was."

  "So, what happens now? Are you going to turn us in to the police?" Joanne asked.

  The others watched and waited, all apart from Jim who was thinking about the flip knife in his jeans and how quickly he could get to it. However, any course of action was diverted by Greg's next words.

  "No, I'm not gonna turn you in."

  "So, what is it you want from us?" Tom said.

  "Isn’t it obvious?"

  "Look, if it's blackmail, you're wasting your time. We don’t have any money and-"

  "Relax, Girly, it's not blackmail," Greg said with a grin, cutting Joanne off. "What I want from you is help. Help to put this right. I want you to come with me and kill this thing."

  "Thanks for the offer," Tom said with a half-smile, "but we don’t want any part of this. We're already in enough trouble as it is. Best of luck though."

  Something changed in Greg's face then. It may have been something as simple as a trick of the light, or maybe it was the way his eyes took on a darkness. Whatever it was, it was enough to scare Tom into silence.

  "I don’t think you understand," Greg said quietly. "I wasn’t giving you an option. You people will help me to kill this thing. You were responsible for letting it loose, and as stupid as that was, this gives me the perfect chance to get my revenge."

  "Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t force us to do shit," Jim said.

  "I wouldn’t be so sure," Greg fired back, swelling in confidence. "See, I have a
buddy of mine waiting outside. He's just waiting to call the police and tell them everything about you. He's very thorough. He even took photos of you as you were leaving the bar. If you refuse to help me, you won’t get five miles before every copper in America is looking for you."

  "You're bluffing," Joanne said without conviction.

  "Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. You can all choose to ignore me and throw me out of this room right now in the hope that you're right, but if I were you, I don’t think I'd want to take that chance. Jesus, if you think it's scary having to hide out now, imagine what it will be like when your faces are plastered all over the news. You won’t even be able to take a shit without wondering if someone's gonna kick the door down and arrest you."

  "Please, you can’t make us do this," Tom said. "We need to hide out, lay low. You have to see it from our point of view."

  "I sympathise, I really do. Doesn’t change a thing though."

  "Please, you can’t ask us to do this. We don’t even have a boat," Fernando said.

  "I have. Way I see it; it's as good a place as any to hide out for a while. It must be better than sitting around in here and wondering how long it will be before they find you."

  "What if we refuse?" Jim said. Unlike the others, he didn’t seem afraid. If anything, he looked angry.

  Keep an eye on this one.

  Greg heeded the inner warning as he replied. "As I said, it's up to you. As the girly said, I could well be bluffing. Then again, you have to ask yourself why would I? Unlike you, I don’t have anything to lose. Seems to me like finding and killing this fish would be a big step towards righting some wrongs. To me, I say that gives us some common ground to work on."

  "Look, Mr Michaels-"

  "Greg."

  "Look, Greg," Tom went on, "this is a big decision. You can’t expect us just to give you an answer right away. We need some time to think."

  "Of course you do, I understand that," Greg said, standing and setting the chair back at the dresser. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. "That's where my boat is. It's called the Sea Star. End of the dock. Take a little while to think things through. If you're not there by six am, I’ll assume you have declined my offer. When that happens, I'll have no option but to inform the authorities where you are."

  "Six am? That’s only a few hours from now. It’s not enough time for us to decide." Fernando whined. "Why the big rush?"

  "Because we need to act now. If we wait any longer, then this fish is gonna grow to its full size, and then we're gonna have a real problem."

  Greg walked to the door and opened it, then turned back to face the group. "You might be tempted to take your chances and run. I know I would be. If that’s what you decide, then I can’t stop you. I just hope you have a damn good place to go."

  "Why?" Tom asked.

  "Well, it seems to me you busted open a government secret. People are already asking questions and they’ll want a scapegoat so they don’t tarnish their image. Do you think they'll have a problem pinning it on a bunch of dumb kids like you lot?"

  "But it was an accident," Marie said, voice wavering. "We didn’t know it would happen like this."

  Fernando grabbed her hand. "She’s right, we didn’t know."

  "Hey, for the record, I believe you," Greg said, "but you can bet your ass they won’t. They'll catch you and make an example of you. A warning to others not to fuck with them."

  He looked at them for a few seconds more, letting the words sink in. "Anyway, think about it. Six o clock. If you don’t show, at six oh-one, your faces become national news."

  With that, he left, closing the door behind him. Of course, he didn’t have their photographs, or someone waiting in the wings to expose them for who they were. He was, however, a hell of a good liar. It had served him well over the years, and he was sure it had done so again. For all the bravado, he could see they were just kids who had gotten in too deep. There was no guilt in using that to his advantage. It seemed fate had actually stopped kicking him in the balls for once, and had given him an opportunity finally to get some vengeance for the misery that had filled his life for the last few years. As much as he tried to deny it, he had been dead inside for a long time apart from the thirst for revenge. It burned deep, and he knew even if it meant going to extremes, he would do it in order to get the job done.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rainwater clung to the toilet bowl, panting as his mouth started to water. He always hated this, the few seconds before he knew there was nothing to stop the oncoming vomit. He knew the reason of course. Too little food combined with too much drink. He tightened his grip on the bowl as he felt it come, the vomit preceded by more mouth-watering. Without ceremony, he threw up the contents of his stomach into the less than clean toilet bowl. When he was done, he glanced down at the murky water. There was blood mixed in with the stuff he had ejected. Not much, granted, but enough for him to realise things had to change. He sat there, resting his head against the cool porcelain and tried to figure out if the decision he had made was the right one. It was a life changer. That was for sure, but at the same time, based on the bloody water by his head, it was one he had to make.

  There was a knock on the door, three sharp rapports. Rainwater's heart sank. He couldn’t handle another argument with Clara, not after the one the previous day had ended with him desperately sucking vodka off the floor like some shameless alcoholic - which he supposed he was. Either way, the shame at letting her see him in such a way had been behind his decision finally to do something about it.

  The knock came again. Although he desperately wanted to ignore it, he also wanted a chance to explain himself and put things right. Dragging himself up and flushing away the mess, he staggered to the door and threw it open.

  Andrews stood at the other side. Rainwater cursed himself for not checking who it was before he answered. He had no desire to speak to anyone, especially Andrews. He was still angry at what had happened, and wasn’t sure he could hold back from attacking if Andrews did anything to further goad him.

  "She's not here," Rainwater said, leaning against the doorframe.

  "I know that. Can I come in?"

  "What do you want?"

  "Just to talk."

  "I've got nothing to say to you."

  "Please, just give me five minutes."

  With a sigh, Rainwater stood aside and let Andrews in.

  "Clara told me what happened," He said as he looked around the filthy apartment.

  "She told you her version of events you mean. You bastards really did a job of convincing her to go."

  "Actually, she jumped at the chance. She had every opportunity to back out but didn’t take it. She's ambitious."

  "She's stupid, and you are too if you're going out there."

  Rainwater walked to his bed. There was an open case at the foot of it. Andrews followed, watching Rainwater as he packed his clothes.

  "I came here to see if I could talk you into changing your mind. It looks like I might not have to."

  "Don’t get too excited, it's not what you think."

  "So what is it?" Andrews pressed.

  Rainwater turned to face him "It's none of your business."

  "Wait a second; don’t tell me you're going out there alone like last time."

  Rainwater grinned without humour. "Jesus, you really don’t know me at all do you? Like I told Clara, I’m done with this. I won’t be a part of it. You don’t have to worry about me getting under your feet out there. Trust me; I’m going nowhere near it."

  "So where are you going?"

  Rainwater stopped packing, dropping a sweater into his case and looking Andrews in the eye. "I'd tell you to mind your own business, but I know how you government types have a habit of finding things out. If you really want to know, I’m getting out of here. I need to get away and get my life back on track."

  "Where will you go? Back to Alaska?"

  Rainwater shook his head. "No. Too many memories th
ere. I need a completely clean break."

  "Where then?"

  "England."

  "England?" Andrews repeated. "That's a little extreme isn’t it? We could really use your help on this. If not for me, for Clara."

  "Forget it. It's already decided."

  "What the hell's so special about England? Why there?"

  "Because it's not here," Rainwater said. "Hell, I’m not stupid. I know how much of a mess I am. What my life has become. If I came with you I’d be a liability."

  "But Clara-"

  "Clara has made her decision. I know her enough to understand she's stubborn enough not to change her mind now."

  "Can you at least give me an address? Let me know where you'll be if we need to contact you?"

  "No," Rainwater said. "That's the whole point. I want to get away from your reach. I want to be left alone."

  "To do what?" Andrews countered. "Drink yourself to death?"

  "No. To get cleaned up. I need to make a change."

  "Okay, how about this. You come along to assist us, and I guarantee the government will put you through the very best rehab money can buy. We both know you can’t do it alone."

  Rainwater shook his head. "You know, it never surprises me how little people think of me."

  "It's not an insult," Andrews countered. "I used to really respect you, which is why I'll give it to you straight now."

  "Go on then, let me hear it."

  "Bottom line is, it doesn’t matter if it’s England, Alaska, or anywhere else in the world. We both know you can’t quit. You're an addict, Henry, and for an addict, it's always tomorrow."

  "No, you're wrong."

  "No, I’m not. There will always be an excuse. There will always be a reason to start tomorrow. If you really, genuinely want to get back on track, help us. In return, I’ll personally drive you to rehab and make sure you get better."

  Rainwater hesitated. He didn’t trust Andrews, yet, was half tempted to believe him all the same. "Nice try." He said, closing and zipping his suitcase.