Another diver, Craig Knisely, hugged the large twin propeller shafts and fervently prayed that the monster wouldn’t see him. He closed his eyes, unable to witness any more grisly deaths. Safety lurked above him, but his hands were welded to the shafts. If his oxygen in the tank ran out, so be it. He deemed drowning a far more merciful way to die than being gobbled alive by that . . . thing!
But it was not to be. The mosasaur plucked Craig’s squirming form from the shafts in a single pass and swallowed him whole, tank and all. He was completely conscious as he was forced into the creature’s gullet and the powerful acid dissolved his flesh like tissue.
The mosasaur’s immense tail thrashed back and forth as it darted from one victim to another, stirring whirlpools of bloody foam. A bull shark was drawn to the blood feast, but the mosasaur curtailed the shark’s invasion with one tremendously powerful bite. The shark wasn’t as tasty as the other prey, but it helped sate its gnawing hunger.
The mosasaur frantically hunted for more prey, but there were none left. It paused. Loud sounds drifted down from above. Familiar sounds heard in the grotto lake.
It headed for the surface.
Two Coast Guard Sikorsky helicopters hovered above the boat, and one lowered a harness for the hysterical woman. When the harness dropped on the deck, the woman crawled to it and managed to slip an arm into a loop. As she reached toward the other loop with her free arm, a man burst from the boat’s cabin, shoved her aside, and slipped into the harness. The angry winch operator had no choice but to pull the asshole to safety. He would send it back down for the woman as soon as he could.
The man swung out over the water as the winch began reeling him skyward. When he was twenty feet and climbing, a shadowy behemoth burst from the waves and swallowed him and the steel cable like a crappie striking a wriggling worm. The man’s screams died in the mosasaur’s throat.
The giant marine reptile fell back toward the gulf, pulling the helicopter down with it! The massive machine pitched toward the surface and plunged downward at a steep angle. Its large rotors sliced the water and the stern of the dive boat, screeching to an abrupt halt. The large chopper disappeared quickly into the steaming vortex. The entire crew was lost.
“Jesus, did you see that?” Jason Levy shouted at Bryan.
Bryan acknowledged his cameraman’s outburst like one would a child’s, and then returned to his frenetic narration.
“The second Coast Guard helicopter has backed off, obviously weighing the risk of attempting another rescue. Meanwhile, that woman’s life is at stake. As you can see, water from the stern breach is flooding the deck. It’s almost reached the woman’s feet, but she appears to be too paralyzed with fear to move. Is there nothing anyone can do for her? Is our own Coast Guard going to leave her for dead?”
Levy shot Bryan a withering glance that all but said, Why don’t we try to save her, you pompous asshole?
The other Coast Guard helicopter swooped low over the boat, and a booming amplified voice ordered her to move to safety atop the cabin. She glanced up, tears blurring her vision, but she remained stationary.
Rolling whitecaps surged over the stern to her feet, and the young woman pulled them back as if boiling water had scalded them. The flood level continued to climb until it burbled over her curled legs and torso.
“The nation breathlessly waits to see if this frightened young lady will find the courage to climb to safety,” Bryan continued. “Meanwhile, the deadly sea serpent continues to prowl below the surface of these ghastly waters, obviously searching for yet more victims. Will it come after the woman in the boat? Let’s pray that it doesn’t.”
Jason rolled his eyes at that statement. What a shallow prick. He’d love to see her bite the dust. Higher ratings.
“Again, if you just joined us, we’re hovering above the Gulf of Mexico off the Mississippi coast in our helicopter, where some kind of prehistoric sea creature has attacked and eaten several unidentified divers. Repeat, this is not a B-movie. This is actually happening . . .
“Wait! Hold on! We’ve just been ordered to leave the vicinity. Can you believe this! From what we’re hearing from the military authorities, a squadron of jet fighters is on its way here to destroy the monster. Repeat, we’ve just received an order to . . .”
Suddenly, the woman staggered to her feet and clambered up the ladder. Her feet slipped twice on the wet aluminum surface, and for several heart-wrenching moments, she dangled precariously above the swamped stern. But each time she managed to plant her feet back on the rungs and continue the long climb. Jason Levy held his breath. Even Bryan ceased his incessant chatter.
Finally, when the struggling woman reached the fly bridge, the second Coast Guard helicopter lost no time lowering another harness. She wrapped it around her torso and over her shoulders, and quickly fastened the straps. With a jolting tug, the winch hoisted her off the doomed boat.
As she swung out over the open water, the high-pitched shrieks of four diving jet fighters shattered the tension. The Fox News chopper turned and sped away despite vociferous objections from Bryan Harding.
The mosasaur hungrily watched the second helicopter hover above the boat. It curled its muscular tail for another leap from the Gulf and patiently waited until its next victim dangled above the surface like the previous one. Its patience was ultimately rewarded as the helpless prey glided above the mosasaur’s waiting jaws.
Time to attack. Time to feed again!
But before it sprang its coiled tail, it sensed unknown intruders in the area and postponed its planned assault. Again, it waited.
Beyond the wriggling woman, it saw four enemies diving toward it. Although the mosasaur was in a blood-frenzied state, it reluctantly abandoned its meal and sped into the depths just as a series of powerful explosions ripped the surface.
Its retreat was too late.
Concussion waves knocked the mosasaur into an uncontrollable spin, and after it finally slowed, it found itself stunned and sinking helplessly toward the bottom far below.
Without resurfacing for air soon, it would drown.
Its survival instincts failed to rouse its muscles as it continued its inexorable descent toward a dark and icy death.
“We got it!” the squadron leader shouted.
“I copy, Thunderbolt. Good work,” the mission control manager droned. He turned to the general seated beside him. “Now we’ll order the cutter crew to search the area for evidence of the mosasaur’s death. Any other orders, sir?”
General Sincevich nodded. “Arrange for more ships and manpower to facilitate the search. The president wants this incident cleaned up and swept under the proverbial rug as soon as possible — if not sooner.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”
“President Hanover is counting on it.”
Chapter 71
Special Agent in Charge Ryan Wilkerson’s wintry eyes surveyed the vacant Coral Springs alley as he awaited an important phone call. From him.
He and his men had been totally humiliated out on Demon Key by that hotshot Blackhawk pilot, and because of that, the man’s plan had been flushed. Now his shitbag ex-wife and her Psycho Man were busily plotting against him, and he had no way to discover what they were up to, because Jackson had somehow managed to purge the voodoo demon spy from her mind.
Wilkerson’s cell phone rang right on time with its annoying warbling chime. He looked down at the glowing caller ID. It was him. He flipped open his phone.
“What’s up, boss?” he said.
“Jesus, Ryan, you pull the biggest fuck-up in the history of fuck-ups, and you have the balls to ask me ‘what’s up’?” the familiar voice growled.
“Okay, okay, but how was I to know that that jack-off LaFevre was going to be escorted by a fully armed Blackhawk?”
“All right, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” the man conceded. “But, it’s imperative that we eliminate the whole fucking bunch within the next twenty-four hours, or they could ruin eve
rything we’ve worked for all these years.”
“I can’t waste them in Broward County, though. It’ll attract too much major press, and that would be bad — real bad,” Wilkerson concluded.
“You’re right. If you exterminate them there, the stupid cops would tie their deaths to our key, and the place would be crawling with pigs who’d prevent us from attaining our objective,” the man added.
“You gotta plan, boss?”
“Yeah. Listen good. I’m about to set things in motion for the perfect ambush well away from here.”
“Yeah, I know about that one: we were going to let the mosasaur do our dirty work.”
“Jesus, Ryan, don’t you ever watch the news? The mosasaur’s dead.”
“Since when?”
“Since early this afternoon.”
“Shit.”
After Jackson explained that he had a credible hunch that implied that the mosasaur was swimming north to pay him a visit, nobody questioned the validity of his statement. They were learning to trust his instincts. But no one could explain why the mosasaur would do such a thing.
During the stillness, Teddi switched the television back on, while Jackson began packing his duffel bag. They watched the gruesome events unfold in the silent motel room. Their feelings were identical. Those poor people . . . except for that creep who charged out of the cabin and pushed the woman away from the rescue harness to save his own bacon. When the mosasaur erupted from the water and nailed the sucker, they almost cheered. But their exhilaration was short-lived when the Coast Guard helicopter plunged into the Gulf, killing the entire crew.
Jackson’s cell phone rang, and all heads turned toward him. He distractedly excused himself from the room and drifted out to the balcony again. The rain continued to fall in a steady drizzle, and he drolly wondered if Orlando would become a coastal city if the rain didn’t stop soon.
“LaFevre,” he answered curtly.
“Good afternoon, Jackson. This is Charlie Simmons.”
“Thanks for returning my call.”
“Before you tell me what I can do for you, I’d like to apologize for Special Agent Wilkerson’s rude behavior last night. I’ve spoken to him and suspended him until I can get down there and straighten out that mess,” Charlie explained. “We could’ve lost a good contract agent.”
“Thanks, but I can’t figure it, either. Why would Wilkerson open fire before securing my identification?”
“That’s one of the issues I intend to investigate so it’ll never happen again under my watch. Now, Jackson, what can I do for you?”
Jackson quickly related the extraordinary events of the past three days, including the mysterious temple in the grotto beneath Demon Key.
When Jackson finished, Charlie said, “I’ve got to see this temple of yours when I get down there. Be ready to move as soon as I arrive.”
“Definitely, but I’m afraid there’s an urgency to all this.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the grotto lake rises another quarter of an inch or so, the temple will come to life. That’s when we believe that whoever’s behind these crimes will show up and conduct some kind of ancient ritual,” Jackson clarified.
“You really believe that’s true?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll be on the next flight to Fort Lauderdale.” Charlie disconnected the call.
Jackson should’ve felt relieved about having his old fishing buddy Charlie joining them at the crime scene, but for some reason, he didn’t. Before he could fathom that conundrum, his cell rang again. He turned his back to the muggy breeze and answered it.
“Jackson, it’s me, Cole.”
“Hey, Cole. How’s Zeus?”
Cole hesitated.
“Cole, you there?” Jackson asked anxiously.
“Uh, yeah, I’m here, Jackson, but I’m afraid there’s no sign of Zeus.”
“What!”
“And I hate to tell you this, but his doghouse has been totaled.”
“What kind of idiot would trash a doghouse?”
“You got me, but it’s knocked flatter than a pancake.”
“And there’s no sign of Zeus? No blood? No footprints leading anywhere?”
“Nothing, and I think that’s sorta odd, don’t you?”
“Extremely. Anything else?” For the first time in his life, Jackson felt like killing someone.
“No. I thought that was bad enough.”
“You’re right. I’m heading back up there tonight,” Jackson informed Cole, even though he was traveling back home that afternoon. Jackson didn’t feel he could trust anyone these days.
“Good luck, mon ami. I hope you find Zeus. He was a good old dog.”
When Jackson returned to the room, the television was off.
“The mosasaur’s dead!” Teddi told Jackson. “Guess we don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“Yeah.” He yanked the duffel bag off the bed, his murderous rage coursing through his body. “I’m heading out.”
“Whoa there, pardner! We’ve got us a plan, Jackson. You might just want to sit a spell and listen to it.” Dex turned to Teddi. “You want to do the honors?”
She smiled. “Sure, Dex. We’ve decided to split up to maximize our efforts.”
Jackson sat on the edge of the bed and placed the duffel bag between his feet. “All right, I’m listening.”
“First, Dex and I’ll accompany you back home. There’s safety in numbers.”
“Not always,” he responded sullenly.
“But what if your Zeus prophecy is just a ploy to split us up?”
“It’s crossed my mind,” he replied grimly. “And by the way, Zeus is missing. I just heard from Cole back home.”
“I’m so sorry, Jackson,” Teddi said quietly.
“Could still be a hoax,” Dex said, trying to brighten Jackson’s mood.
“Could be.” He didn’t feel like elucidating about Zeus’s flattened doghouse.
“While we’re in Louisiana, John and Jilly are going back out to that Everglades cave where he and Dex took those pictures of the drawings. Jilly says that she learned a new excavation technique during her last dig in France that can partially restore damaged images. She and John’ll attempt to restore the burnt cave drawings.”
“I believe they’re crucial to understanding the big picture,” Jilly stated emphatically. “It’s hard for me to believe that a mosasaur still existed in early Seminole history, and even if it somehow survived like the one we saw murdered today, then I seriously doubt that it would climb on land and destroy an entire Indian village. They aren’t built for land travel.”
“Well, it sure looks like one trampled the wooden walkway at my house last week, crushing the whole danged thing!” Dex interjected.
“Could be. They might be capable of navigating land for short distances.”
“Two hundred feet?” Dex asked.
“Quite possibly, yes.”
“One other thing, folks,” Dex said, standing. “When Teddi had me pinned down inside that grotto lake, I felt something big brush me. Something so big that it sent me into an ass-over-applecart underwater spin! I almost bought the farm!”
“How big? Bigger than a bread box?” John ribbed his friend.
“Make it bigger than a transit bus, wise guy!”
They sniggered nervously, after witnessing the gruesome diver deaths.
“You’re suggesting that there may be another one of those mosasaurs hanging around down there?” Jackson asked.
“Yep.”
Jackson faced Jilly. “Well, Doc?”
“I don’t exactly know what to say. We scientists don’t like going out on a limb without empirical evidence.”
“Just go for the gusto, Jilly,” Dex prodded.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, I agree with Dex’s assessment. It’s entirely possible that there are two mosasaurs. A female and a male.”
“Which one died this morning?”
&n
bsp; “The male, I’d say.”
“Why, because he’s larger?” Dex asked.
“No, because he was smaller.”
There was a collective silence as they tried to imagine just how large a female giant mosasaur might be.
Chapter 72
Dex and Teddi snuck in catnaps during the chartered jaunt to the Baton Rouge airport, but they were fully alert for the late-afternoon thrill ride through the bayou rivers and channels leading to Jackson’s property. Rotting stumps protruded from the lazy currents and made the channels obstacle courses at times.
Dex declined the invitation to sit up front. He decided to ride behind the windshield, or as he referred to it, “the bug screen.”
Jackson maneuvered the sleek green and blue bow-rider past his new dock to an extremely narrow side channel.
“Why didn’t you dock back there?” Teddi asked.
“Too conspicuous,” he replied tersely.
“You expectin’ trouble?” Dex asked.
“Until this investigation’s wrapped up, yes.”
Reeds, Spanish moss, and wild brambles poked the bow-rider and its passengers as they proceeded slowly into the bayou’s checkerboard of shadows and sunlight. To Teddi and Dex, the passage appeared to be a dead-end, but Jackson pressed a remote control button beneath the throttle. A thick tangle of flowering vines slid aside, revealing an unobstructed channel on the other side.
“Slick as snot on a doorknob,” Dex remarked.
“When I need a back way into my place, this works fine.”
“I should say so.”
Teddi wasn’t as amazed as Dex, because she’d witnessed some of Jackson’s incredible gadgets inside his deceivingly ramshackle home. She absently wondered how many other tricks he had up his sleeve.
After another fifty feet, Teddi quickly ducked as Jackson cut the boat sharply to starboard. They passed beneath a vine-smothered trellis into a hidden boathouse. Even she was impressed this time.
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