Leviathan

by Jared Sandman

  Wright opened a floor compartment reserved for extra luggage. Straining with the rest of his strength, he lifted a metal container from the space and set it on the floor.

  Stenciled on the side was one word: DANGER!

  “Please reconsider,” Thorpe said.

  Wright paid him no attention, focused on the thing in the water. The thing that had ruined his life. “MK 40s,” he said with a grin. “Underwater explosives.”

  “Where did you get grenades? I will land this helicopter,” Thorpe warned like a reproachful father.

  “No you won’t,” Wright said and tossed one of the bombs out of the chopper. He threw it in the Leviathan’s direction. It landed in the water, and the old man waited. He thought to use a second one, perhaps throw out two at once to drive the creature —

  BOOM!

  The detonation sent a wall of seawater into the air. Leaning over the chopper skids, Wright got drenched by the splash.

  “Are you crazy?” Thorpe asked. The answer was clear to him.

  Wright hurled another grenade out the door. A moment later the earth rumbled with a second blast — BOOM! — yet the Leviathan was nowhere to be seen.

  Slowly other animals floated to the surface, killed by the violent shockwaves. Fish and loggerhead turtles rose into view, motionless on the undulating waves.

  Somewhere nearby came another outburst. Wright registered the sound as thunder. The storm front had reached them in a dark rage.

  Thorpe would be forced to land soon because of deteriorating weather conditions. Since it’d be impossible to persuade him to fly again, Wright needed to deal with the Leviathan now.

  The old man scanned the wreckage below. From this height the carcasses on the surface looked like pale specks on a vast cobalt canvas. He saw something from the corner of his vision, that same shadowy mass lingering below the waterline. It measured twenty-five feet from snout to hind legs, not including the lengthy tail.

  Wright realized Thorpe was right — this was crazy. It wouldn’t be honorable to slaughter the beast with explosives. There was no intimacy in that. Wright needed to stare into the Leviathan’s merciless eyes as the creature gasped its final breath. He planned to coerce the animal back to the yacht and finish it off there.

  He motioned for Thorpe to fly around the monster, then he dropped two more bombs in quick succession. They landed far enough apart as not to kill the Leviathan but drive it toward the Naglfar.

  BOOM! — BOOM!

  Pressure waves from the dual explosions rocked the helicopter.

  “That’s enough,” Thorpe said. “I’ve had enough.”

  The Leviathan fled the blast zone, swimming swiftly to the yacht. At last it dived under the waves and vanished altogether.

  “Sonofabitch, I lost it again.”

  Between the explosives and thunder, the noise around them would’ve been deafening without headphones. As they circled the Naglfar, Wright spotted a large vessel stopped alongside his ship. He’d been so focused on the Leviathan, he hadn’t noticed the other boat at all.

  “Who’s that?” Thorpe asked.

  “Beats me.”

  Several people had congregated on the main deck of the second vessel and were waving at the chopper. One of them, a woman, held a bullhorn and shouted at the helicopter. Wright took off his earphones to better hear what she had to say.

  “CEASE ALL ACTIVITIES AND RETURN TO YOUR VESSEL IMMEDIATELY.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “LAND AT ONCE,” Kelly repeated through the megaphone. She’d been yelling at the helicopter since the first explosions sounded.

  BOOM!

  Another mushroom of water rocketed into the air, showering the area with seawater and fish particles.

  The marine biologist turned to Evan and asked, “What’s he think he’s doing?” Then at the chopper: “I DEMAND YOU STOP!”

  Kelly finally got the awareness of the individual leaning out the bay door. She wildly gesticulated for them to land the craft. Her face was flush from screaming.

  “Get the flare gun,” she told Rafe. He went to the pilothouse and returned with the object.

  “I thought this was only for emergencies,” he said.

  “This seems like a good excuse to me.” She checked to see if it was loaded then took careful aim toward the aircraft. Kelly didn’t want to strike the chopper, merely garner the pilot’s attention.

  Kelly fired the shot, a flare streaking across the ocean on a low arc thirty feet above the water. It whizzed fifteen feet in front of the helicopter’s windshield, burning a smoke trail parallel to the waves before it landed two hundred yards out.

  “I think they heard you that time,” Evan said.

  The chopper hovered above the two ships before parking on the Naglfar’s heliport. Kelly handed the megaphone to Evan, ready to tear into whomever —

  She stopped on the spot, noticing movement in the water as it passed under the Aurora.

  “What’s that?” She raced to port, waited for the form to re-emerge. It didn’t. “What was that thing?” she asked Evan.

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “That giant black shadow in the water? It didn’t move like a whale.”

  “Every living creature within a mile has left this area. Explosives aren’t exactly the most subtle form of fishing.”

  In the wheelhouse Captain Bart was on the marine radio with Captain Jenkins. “Permission to board,” Bart asked.

  “What’s your purpose on our vessel?” came the reply.

  “I have one angry woman who’s champing at the bit to meet that pilot of yours, and she’s not one to piss off. Trust me.”

  A long pause, thirty seconds of silence on the channel. “Copy that. Permission granted to the Aurora. But keep your lady friend over there. Over and out.”

  Bart docked the research vessel alongside the Naglfar. The captain switched to the ship’s intercom. “Evan, you’ll want to take charge of this. We’re allowed to board, but they don’t wanna speak to Kelly.” From the bridge he saw the marine biologist ranting and raving. “Release the gangplank, prepare to debark.”

  Evan lowered an eight-foot section of metal from starboard and attached it to the Naglfar’s port. He went to Kelly and said, “I’m headed over there now. Alone. If you promise to play well with others, I’ll send for you later.”

  She crossed her arms and made no further protests. Evan traveled across the gangway and stepped onto the yacht. First Mate Hatfield was there to receive him. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you. I’m Evan Hale.”

  The first mate asked, “Are you a cargo ship?”

  “No, the Aurora’s a scientific vessel.”

  “You work for the government then?”

  “Not exclusively.”

  Jenkins approached and said, “I got off the horn with Captain Michaels. He said you wanted to meet with us.”

  The roaring helicopter settled once the engine was cut and the rotors slowed to a stop. “We need to speak about the dangerous activity we witnessed.” Evan didn’t fail to notice the giant harpoon on the bow.

  The two crewmen looked at one another, each feeling Wright had crossed a line if not legally, at least ethically. “We can’t control our employer’s regrettable behavior.”

  “Who’s your boss?”

  “That would be me,” Oscar Wright said as he descended from the heliport.

  “Mister Wright?” Evan said, less than shocked.

  “My reputation precedes me.”

  “We met yesterday in the Keys.”

  The old man remembered now. “Ah, yes, the restaurant. Forgive me if I don’t recall your name.”

  “Evan Hale.” Neither man extended a hand to the other.

  “I assume you’re here on account of the fireworks display. It was a bit loud, I know.”

  “I don’t care about the noise level.” The ranger didn’t know where to begin criticizing the old man. “Y’know, most people use a rod and tackle to catch fish
.”

  “I wasn’t fishing.”

  Another man stepped from the top deck, towering over them.

  “This your bodyguard?” Evan asked of the stocky hunter.

  “The only body I guard is my own,” Thorpe said.

  “Mister Thorpe here is a tracker. Best in the business.”

  “What are you tracking?”

  “I don’t see what concern that is of yours. Who allowed you on my ship anyway?”

  Jenkins answered, “I did.”

  “Your foolish actions have endangered numerous species protected by the federal government.”

  “Uncle Sam has no legal reach in these waters,” Wright pointed out.

  “The widespread damage and disregard for this fragile ecosystem isn’t only prohibited, it’s unconscionable.”

  “I never claimed to have a conscience.”

  The old man’s flippancy irked Evan. The billionaire was a masterful manipulator who knew how to keep opponents off kilter in a confrontation.

  Evan was about to respond when he heard the sharp blasts of footsteps to his rear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kelly asked as she crossed the gangway to the Naglfar.

  She addressed the hunter directly; when Thorpe stepped aside to reveal Oscar Wright standing behind him, her anger faltered for an instant.

  The billionaire smiled at her. “I have ten fingers and just as many toes. I can feed myself and wipe my own ass. And while I may not be as sharp as I once was, all my marbles are intact. Which begs the question, Miss — what the fuck is your problem?”

  “How do you justify your conduct?” Kelly said. Former benefactor or not, she wasn’t about to be lenient on the old man.

  “I don’t have to,” Wright said. “Every decision I make is reasonable and informed.”

  “Don’t give me that slick boardroom bullshit.”

  Jenkins tried to douse flaring tempers. “Allow me to extend an olive branch. I’m sure Mister Wright would be willing to discuss matters over dinner. Sir, would it be acceptable for our guests to join us tonight? Nothing calms the nerves better than a fine meal and stimulating conversation.”

  Wright wasn’t pleased by the proposition but ultimately relented. “You invited them, not me.”

  “Good then. I’ll inform the chef that we’re having company. It was a pleasure meeting you both,” Jenkins told the researchers before taking leave.

  The old man heard a particular noise from the yacht’s engine, a peculiar whur-whur-whur he hadn’t noticed before. “Anyone else hear that?”

  “Our engineer can take a look for you,” Evan said.

  Kelly agreed. “Rafe’s saved my hide more than once. The guy’s a genius with his hands.”

  Without warning the old man turned and headed below deck. His crew learned to cope around their employer’s antisocial disposition.

  “I’ll see if he’s feeling okay,” Thorpe said as he followed the billionaire.

  The first mate remained with Evan and Kelly. “That sounds lovely. Feel free to bring a couple crewmembers this evening, along with your engineer. And please forgive Mister Wright.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kelly said.

  “No, my sincere apologies. Sometimes he doesn’t act the way a man of his stature ought to.”

  * * * * *

  Captain Jenkins informed Bart that dinner would be served at seven o’clock sharp. A quartet from the Aurora arrived fifteen minutes before then. Joining Evan and Kelly were Rafe and (despite personal objections to his presence) Edgar Wallis. While the researchers didn’t want him around, Evan thought it shrewd to bring along a lawyer.

  The captain met them at the gangway as they crossed to the Naglfar. “Permission to board?” Evan asked. It was common courtesy to ask for consent when boarding any vessel.

  “Granted,” said Jenkins.

  First Mate Hatfield arrived a moment later. Neither the old man nor the hunter was in sight. “This is Edgar and Rafe,” Evan said. “Edgar serves as legal counsel for our company and Rafe’s the mechanic we were telling you about.”

  “Beautiful. I could use your help,” Hatfield told the Jamaican. “I can’t seem to figure what’s out of place in the engine room.” The pair wandered off, leaving the captain with the scientists and Edgar.

  “Follow me to the dining room,” Jenkins said.

  The inside of Oscar Wright’s yacht was more luxurious than any house the others had ever lived in. Classic paintings adorned the main corridor, the floor tiled in jade marble. It made the Aurora’s amenities seem sparse by comparison, even though the scientific vessel was well stocked. Jenkins ushered them to a large dining room above the bilge. “Please have a seat. Mister Wright will join you momentarily.”

  Kelly sat next to Evan, with Edgar across from them. Three bouquets of flowers — multicolored roses, tulips and lilies — decorated a polished oaken table that seated twelve. As Wright preferred to eat in solitude, tonight would be the most number of guests the billionaire had entertained on the Naglfar.

  Meanwhile their host tried his best to ignore the visitors. The old man had taken a nap to recuperate from the excitement of that afternoon. He was reading in the master suite when First Mate Hatfield knocked on the door and informed him company had arrived.

  That had been twenty minutes ago.

  Claude refused to serve the main course until Wright appeared. The billionaire wanted the others to wait for him. It had nothing to do with being fashionably late (he cared about fashion as much as the opinions of others); rather, he wanted them to stew in their rage. No doubt the researchers had come to complain about his exploits. The longer they sat unaccompanied, the angrier they’d become. That in turn would fuel a passionate dialog, the type on which the old man thrived.

  Wright eventually made his way to the dining area, clad in pajamas and slippers. Three people were seated, one of whom the old man didn’t recognize. Kelly was the first to speak. “Good evening, Mister Wright.” The billionaire didn’t answer, took a chair at the head of the table. Claude followed close behind with several dishes in his arms. He set one in front of each diner.

  Edgar stared at the food, a brownish muck sprinkled with an unidentified spice. “Looks delicious,” he lied.

  “What is this?” Evan asked. It smelled good, despite the unseemly appearance.

  “Siberian sturgeon,” Claude said, “simmered in a calamari sauce and served on a bed of wild rice pilaf with a touch of oregano. It’s Mister Wright’s favorite.”

  The old man nodded in agreement. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have it for leftovers.” The chef watched everyone take a bite. Satisfied they all found it palatable, he exited the dining room.

  “It is good,” Edgar said.

  “Siberian sturgeon, aren’t those endangered?” Evan asked.

  “Only for poor people. Internationally, they’re a delicacy.”

  Kelly said nothing, perturbed by the notion of eating a nearly extinct species.

  Under the table Evan kicked Edgar in the leg. He wanted the lawyer to say anything that the old man couldn’t construe negatively. “I noticed the name of your vessel,” Edgar said. “You must be a fan of Norse mythology.”

  “Of all the religious versions of Armageddon, Norse is the best. Leave it to the Vikings to come up with the fiercest, bloodiest massacre for the end of days. I’m surprised you got the reference, not many people do.”

  “I took a course in world mythology at NYU many years ago.”

  “I’m a New York University alum too, graduated in ’61 — no, ’62.” The billionaire became markedly more animated when talking to Wallis. It shocked neither of the researchers to see Wright getting along best with someone as furtive and conceited as Edgar Wallis.

  “Mister Wright, about this afternoon,” Kelly prodded.

  The billionaire ignored her, continued conversing with Edgar.

  Evan leaned over to the marine biologist. “Careful now,” he whispered. “Just because he’s a prick doesn�
�t mean you need to reciprocate. Don’t turn this into a pissing contest.”

  “Mister Wright?”

  “What?” he said.

  She said, “I wondered what you were up to today. Not to be critical, just curious.”

  “Deep-sea fishing. I admit the explosives may have been a little over the top. I only wanted to scare up some prey.”

  “More like scare away. Didn’t you realize the shockwaves would likely kill everything in the vicinity?” Evan asked.

  “The thing I’m after wouldn’t die so easily.” As the words left his lips, he regretted uttering them.

  No one added anything, the weight of his remark hanging in the air like cigar smoke.

  The thing I’m after. What thing?

  “Fishing for what?” Evan said. “Marlin? Shark?”

  “Not quite.” The old man didn’t elaborate.

  “I saw that spear gun you installed on the bow. You must be hunting huge game to use harpoons those size.”

  Wright remained silent.

  “Is it whale you’re after?” Kelly said.

  “I don’t divulge my private affairs,” Wright said and switched subjects. “So what kind of tracking equipment does your ship have? I imagine you have a variety of research devices at your disposal.”

  It occurred to the old man that perhaps it would be more effective to befriend the scientists than antagonize them.

  “The Institute provides us the best technology available to aid in our investigations.”

  Wright raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Out here in the middle of nowhere, what type of investigations are you advancing?”

  Kelly glanced to Evan, who struck an uneasy look. It wouldn’t be wise to tell the truth. “We’re testing a new underwater camera. It allows us to study animals living at great depths without disrupting their natural habitat.”

  “Sounds fascinating,” Wright said. For the first time that night, he seemed genuinely intrigued by what the pair had to say. “Would you let me see this camera? Wright Enterprises is always on the lookout for new investment opportunities. Even an old man like myself has to keep an eye toward the future. Maybe after dinner?”