by Greig Beck
He turned from the camera to peer out through one of the blackout curtains. He could just make out the dots of the two inflatables in the distance, sitting on a black plate-of-glass ocean; one full, one empty. He inhaled, smelling the salt air over the ozone of electronics.
This is a good life, he thought. For all the badass things he had done, this was what he enjoyed, being outdoors and imparting his wisdom to the next generation of warriors, the next generation of alpha predators.
He sat back among the semicircle of technology surrounding him, and watched the outline of the six warm bodies making their way toward the hulk. He changed the visual perspective to another camera and nodded, satisfied with progress. The water-surface motion detectors picked up little more than the natural movement of a slight breeze across the water; the rebreather exhaust diffusers were working just fine.
“Looking good, team-1,” he said to the dark.
He waited as the team closed in. It was going to be interesting to see if they could scale the ship’s hull without setting anything off. He’d accept some slight movement, but on a still night such as this, if it were a real-world insertion, someone keeping watch on deck would pick anything outside the ordinary up.
The hulk’s motion sensors beeped, from a slight push from the stern.
They’d blown it.
Anguilar frowned. He saw that his team members were still clear of the boat; they were close, but hadn’t yet arrived.
Okay, a wave, he thought.
He checked the weather reports and synoptic charts – there was nothing but calm predicted for hours. He knew that rogue waves could travel thousands of miles, so ignored it.
Beep.
This time the sensors were telling him that another wave had given the hulk a nudge, this time from the bow side.
Beep.
Another one from the port side.
“What the hell?” It was like the waves were coming at the hulk from all angles … or something was circling it.
Captain Anguilar looked back at his thermal signatures, saw his six men, and then saw another huge and hot presence shoot just below them. Whatever it was, the divers must have seen or sensed it, because they closed ranks, and drew into a tight bunch.
He knew that whales and other sea mammals presented hot on a thermal read, and so did one other alpha predator, the great white shark. In his early training, they learned all about these sea predators – most sharks are cold-blooded, however, the great white shark was an endotherm, meaning it could raise its body temperature above the ambient water temperature – it was how they were able to put so much energy into an attack.
Well, whatever sort of shark it was, it was a damn big one. Time to get his men out of the water – drill was over.
He lifted his walkie-talkie, while keeping his eyes on the six body-shaped thermal signatures in the water. “Duck-2, come back, urgent.”
“Boss,” the calm voice whispered.
“Drill’s over; I want you to …”
Anguilar stared hard at the screen. His six men were represented as flaring orange human shapes all bunched together, but then the enormous hot signature returned and for a second it totally filled his screen.
When it left, his men were gone.
“Madra Dios,” he whispered.
Anguilar blinked several times, before exploding into action. “Duck-2, get over to the hulk, and look for survivors; I think we’ve got a big shark in the water!”
“Repeat, sir, survivors?” The calm voice asked.
“Do it!” He screamed the words, hearing the duck’s engine start up across the water. The inflatables had muscular outboards, and even loaded with six men, they would skate across the water like a skipping stone.
His pilot appeared at the cabin door, aware something was up.
“Orders, sir?”
Captain Anguilar held up a hand. “Wait.” He looked back at the screen. He saw Duck-2 enter the picture, its outline dark, only the engine showing from its heat trail. He half turned to the man, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Start the boat, we’ll need to bring in—”
His mouth hung open. Something came for Duck-2, from directly underneath it. It was huge and it opened like a massive trap below the inflatable craft holding his men.
From outside, the calm and silent warm air was replaced by the noise of a massive disturbance of water, and the fear-filled yells of men; no, not yells, screams of terror. Then came a sound like a thousand waterfalls as something titanic fell back into the water.
Anguilar turned back to the screens. Just like his divers, the dark signature of the dinghy and his men had vanished.
“Gone,” he whispered.
The pilot straightened. “Start the boat, sir?”
“Yes.” Anguilar turned back to the motion sensors.
Beep.
He froze. “No, belay that. We’ll sit a while, and let the ocean calm itself.” Anguilar reached up to wipe his sweat-slicked face.
“Get me the base; I want a chopper up, ASAP.”
CHAPTER 12
Stanford University, California, Evolutionary Biology Department
Cate pushed through the doors of her office just as the intercom buzzed. She hit the button.
“Yeah, Jess.”
“Professor Granger, I’ve got a Mr. Vincent Kelly to see you. Not on the appointment register, but says he knows you.”
In her mind, Cate could see Jess, her receptionist, smiling sweetly at the man. But she was a tough gatekeeper, and one word from Cate, and the guy was going home.
But it was Vincent Kelly, Vince. Yeah, she knew him. She sat down in her chair, feeling a little light-headed. Just the name brought back memories in a rush. Vince was with the coast guard and he and his pilot, Regina Boxer, were with her and Jack onboard the ill-fated boat, the Slava, when they took on the sea monster, as she now liked to think of the monstrous Megalodon creature.
For a brief moment she felt like telling Jess to send him away. But she knew she couldn’t. He was one of the reasons they were all alive, and for that, she owed him plenty, regardless of what sort of memories he dragged up or baggage he hauled in with him.
“Yeah, sure, send him up.”
Cate swiveled her chair to look out across the manicured Stanford lawn. A few students ambled about, or sat cross-legged and talked, or were hunched over, working on tiny computers in the sunshine. It looked so normal, calm and … safe.
“Knock, knock.”
She turned to see Vincent’s brawny form in the doorway. He beamed as he crossed to her, hand outstretched.
“Cate Granger; you look fantastic.”
She couldn’t help his infectious smile spreading to her. She stood and gripped his hand.
“And feeling pretty good, too, Vince. How’s Ginny?”
Vincent bobbed his head from side to side. “She’s fine … now. Took a while. You know, afterward, and all.”
“Yeah, I know.” Cate sat again. “You two still seeing each other?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yep, we’re still good. She suffered from nightmares about deep water for a while, but who didn’t, right?” He smiled sadly. “Not a great thing for a coastie, though.” He pointed at the chair on the other side of her desk. “May I?”
“Sorry, sure; uh, coffee?”
“Won’t say no.” He sat and she noticed for the first time he held a battered briefcase under his arm. He smiled again, his eyes direct as he watched her.
Cate buzzed for two coffees, and folded hands across her stomach. “So, almost two years, and then out of the blue, here you are.”
“It’s good to see you. And yes, I’m guilty for not paying more social visits.” Vince shrugged. “I just figured we all needed some space.”
She nodded, waiting.
He sighed. “And I wish this was social as well.”
“Oh yeah?” She scrutinized him, still waiting for him to get to it.
“Weird things happening.”
He opened the suitcase, pulled out some photographs and stacked them on the edge of her desk.
Like a blackjack dealer, Vince then spread the first four out in a row and sat back. Cate bent forward to look them over. There were shots of rocky exposed reefs, diving platforms and even buoys. After a moment she sat back, her brows knitted.
“Okay, I’ll bite; what am I supposed to be seeing here?”
“That’s the right question to ask,” he said. “It’s not what’s in the pictures, but what isn’t.” He tapped each of them. “From California to Mexico, this time of year we’d expect to see elephant seal, sea lions, pacific harbor seals, and many more species; they used to crowd these places. But not now; they’re all gone.”
Cate felt the old knot in her gut give a little twist. “So, maybe that ole climate change, huh? They’ve relocated.”
“Maybe, sure, why not? But then …” He selected a few more photos and placed them side by side.
She briefly looked down and then raised her eyebrows. “Whale beachings?”
“Yep, entire pod of pilot whales down in Mexico; 150 of them. There was a team of over a hundred volunteers down there to try and refloat them. But no matter what they tried, they could not get the whales to go back out into deeper water.” He shrugged sadly, then picked up another picture and turned it around for her. “Eventually the whales died; every single one of them.” He put the picture down. “Personally, I think they were too scared to return to the open ocean.”
“Oh yeah, an entire pod?” She narrowed her eyes, but felt the coils of fear tightening inside her. “I’m not sure I like where you’re going with this, Vince.”
“I didn’t either.” He retrieved his last picture, placing it on her desk, but keeping a finger on it. “This is a whale carcass, or what’s left of it. I was there for this one.”
There was a half whale, possibly a humpback, seeming cleaved in half. The blubber and meat was ragged. He tapped his finger on it. “I saved some of the exposed spinal discs. Local marine biologist said it looks to have been severed, cleanly, as though by something fast, powerful and almost surgically sharp.”
Vincent sat back. “Something that was slightly concave, like a spade, and probably the same size.” He fished in his briefcase and placed a Megalodon tooth on the table on top of the photograph. “Something like this.”
Cate shook her head. “Nope, no way, we killed it. Jack saw it die.”
Vincent smiled, nodding slightly. He continued to stare down at the photograph, talking now as if in a trance.
“When I was a kid, I asked my father why we don’t ever see many dead birds, seeing there’s so many around, you know. He told me that when birds died they fell upwards, straight to heaven.” He looked up at her, one side of his lips quirked up. “Great sense of humor, my dad. But I remembered his words the other day. You see, sharks don’t float when they’re dead, Cate, you know that. They sink and stay down. Jack said he saw that wounded animal heading down off the continental shelf. It’s probably dead, but no one can say for sure.”
Cate felt the knot inside her twist again and then begin to boil up into anger. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you want, Vincent?”
He stared at her desk for several seconds, his face blank as if his vision had turned inwards again. “I heard on the defense forces grapevine that two teams of Mexican Special Forces doing drills off the coast of northern Baja California Sur vanished. Their CO said they were taken by something big in the water.” He lifted his eyes to her, and they were the weariest eyes she had ever seen. “I can’t verify that, and no one’s talking. But they’ve got us coasties, and the navy, running patrols off the edge of the shelf. We’ve both been asked to take depth charges, but they won’t say why.”
“What have they got you looking for?” Cate asked carefully.
He grinned with little humor. “Anomalies.”
“Anomalies?” she scoffed.
“Yeah, well, I gave them my suggestions, and they basically told me to piss off – excuse my French – but I know, they know, what’s going on.” He chuckled with little mirth. “You know how it is; yelling shark scares the crap out of people. But yell monster shark, and you’ll have a damned riot.”
Vince sighed. “The thing is it’s hard for me to argue my case as I’m not an expert. Well, not on paper anyway. So I need an expert. A real one.”
“Oh, no, no. I’m not getting involved in this.”
“Cate, please, you and Jack are the two most expert experts in the world on Megalodons right now. I need you to—”
“Sorry, no, Vince. I’m not joining any teams, or going on any trips, or even convening any panel discussions.” She saw the look in his eye. “And before you ask, Jack isn’t either. We’re out.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Just one thing then: I need you to speak to someone, a guy who used to work for an oil exploration group, he’s semi-retired now, not that he wants to be. His name’s Scott Markesan; he saw something, Cate. I’ll even bring him to you. He’s a nice guy.”
She frowned, the name sounded familiar. “Look, Vince …”
“Over dinner. You, Jack, me, Regina, who’s dying to see you both again by the way, and Scott. No strings, okay?” He opened his hands, palms up. “Be nice for us all to catch up and have a few beers anyway, right?”
“Well, I’d love to see Ginny again. I’ll check with Jack, and—”
“Done.” Vince slapped the table and gathered all his photographs. He stood up. “It’s so good to see you again.” He shuffled the pictures back into his bag. “It’s probably nothing, so all we’ll end up doing is shooting the breeze, eating good food and drinking too much.”
She stood up. “Hope so, Vince. Hope so.”
Her knotting gut told her something different.
CHAPTER 13
Nick’s Cove Restaurant on the wharf, Marin county
Cate looked around as the restaurant began to fill. There were a few families with wind-dry hair and sunburned noses. A table of four guys in loud shirts who could have been students, ordering beers before they even looked at a menu, and then there was her and Jack, waiting on their guests.
Nick’s Cove was a mix of hokey cool and hometown friendliness that big city places just couldn’t match. The restaurant was wood paneled from top to bottom, and at the far end there was a ship’s wheel facing the water. Green glass buoys covered in weather-beaten rope mesh, ships’ lanterns and several varnished oars hung on the walls. Incongruously, there were also a few antlered deer heads watching the diners with eternal glassy-eyed expressions.
Cate looked down at the menu and pursed her lips.
“Mmm,” Jack said, “blue-eyed cod, nice.”
She shook her head slowly. “I’m having that.”
He gave her a half lidded look. “Then I’ll have the lobster.”
“Wait, there’s lobster?” She looked further down the menu and found it. “Ooh, yum. I’m changing my pick.”
He grinned. “Then back to the cod for me.” He looked up. “Should I pick my starter, or should I wait to see what you’re having first?”
She reached across to squeeze his large rough hand. “You have whatever you want, darling.”
“The mussels.”
“There’s mussels?” She laughed as Jack pretended to throw his menu up in the air.
Jack looked to the doorway, as more people entered. “Looks like this party is about to get started.” He raised a hand to wave to Vince.
Jack stood to kiss Regina on the cheek, and shook Vince’s hand vigorously, swapping a few jokes about each other’s appearance – getting older, and fatter – with his old coast guard buddy. Regina smiled and hugged Cate.
“How are you?”
Regina nodded. “Really good, and even better now for seeing you.”
Cate thought she still looked a little haunted, but otherwise the no-nonsense helicopter pilot was still as she remembered – short-cropped red-blonde hair, a snub
nose and a dimpled chin. Plus the greenest eyes that still glinted with fierce intelligence and an even fiercer temper.
Vince stood aside, and put his hand on the shoulder of a young man. “May I introduce a friend of mine: Mr. Scott Markesan. Scott is a diving engineer with Nexxon Corporation, and was recently aboard the Kanaloa, one of their biggest oil exploration vessels.”
Scott shook hands with Cate and Jack, and all five of them took their seats. Cate studied the young man. He couldn’t have been older than early thirties but he had the look of someone who spent his time outdoors – squint wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and his sandy hair was sun-bleached and dry. She’d thought Regina looked a little haunted, but this guy looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He caught her looking at him.
“You saw something down there too, didn’t you?” His dark rimmed eyes were as direct as his words.
She stared for a moment, at first hesitant to commit to anything. But it was Vincent who responded.
“Scott, like I’ve told you, we all did. We had an encounter with something well out of the ordinary, and what we—”
“You keep saying that, Vince. But what I saw wasn’t just out of the ordinary. It was out of this damned freaking world.”
“Not out of this world,” Jack said. “Just out of this time.”
“Out of its time.” Scott seemed to test the words. “What I saw …”
Jack held up his hand as the waiter came to ask if they were ready. They spent a few moments ordering food, plus a round of drinks.
Jack nodded. “Sorry, Scott, go on.”
“Let me back up a few steps.” Scott licked his lips. “I was the go-to guy for below the surface repairs aboard the Kanaloa. We were seismic blasting out off the coast of Mexico; we’d been doing it for days. We sent down a deep geological pulse, every few seconds, around the clock.”
“What sonic range?” Jack asked.
Scott bobbed his head. “The pulse guns operate in broadband, and deliver a range of frequencies, both high and low. They need to read the silt layer and also drive deep into the denser geology.”