by Steve Alten
“Yes,” the captain said.
“No,” Benedict yelled. “Secure the object beneath the sub.”
Terry felt claustrophobic. The walls of the submersible seemed to be closing in. She thought of the Proteus, how the slightest breach in the integrity of its hull would have caused it to implode.
“Object secured,” Ivan said.
“You may take us to the Benthos, Captain,” Benedict ordered.
Terry held on as the sub dropped, rolling to port.
“Goddamn it.” The captain squeezed his way forward to the ballast controls. “What the hell is that thing, Ivan? Must weigh over five hundred pounds.” The captain released ballast, the sub righting itself.
“Sir, two life-forms off the port bow, the others circling. Range—fifty meters. I think they mean to channel us away from the Benthos.”
Terry pressed her face to the glass. She could see nothing but blackness.
“Benthos now within view, Captain,” a relieved chief shouted.
“Life-forms moving away, distancing themselves.”
The captain smiled nervously. “The Benthos is too big to pick a fight with. Chief, request hangar doors be opened. Maneuver the Prometheus into position to deposit the object we’ve extracted from the seafloor, then prepare the sub for docking.”
Terry breathed a sigh of relief. She released her grip from the armrest and whispered a prayer of thanks.
Then she remembered Sergei was waiting for her on board.
Trapped
Sea World
Seattle, Washington
Sea World animal-care supervisor Pete Soderblom sneaked a peek at the gathering crowd from behind the auditorium’s backstage curtains.
“Christ, Andy, what the hell’s going on? It’s like a media feeding frenzy out there.”
Zoologist Andrew Furman handed him the newspaper. “Take a look at the front page.”
Pete scanned the headlines of the Seattle Times.
ESCAPED MEGALODON SIGHTED OFF LEADBETTER POINT
OYSTERVILLE, WA.—Carcharodon megalodon, the 72-foot monster shark that only days earlier attacked a Coast Guard vessel, killing two, was sighted by fishermen off Leadbetter Point early yesterday evening.
“We were heading in when this huge white dorsal fin started circling the boat,” said Cal Cambronne, a local fisherman. “Damn thing followed us right into the bay before heading out to sea. Scared the hell out of the entire crew. Our boat’s only a 50-footer.”
In a related story, scientists at Sea World report that Tootie, the 18,000-pound gray whale calf released into the wild weeks earlier, appears to have abandoned its attempts to migrate north to the Bering Sea. The newborn, which had beached itself four months earlier along Ocean Shores, was spotted feeding in Grays Harbor yesterday by whale watchers. Biologists at Sea World tracking the calf’s movements by radio transmitter confirmed Tootie’s position to be less than 25 miles from where the Megalodon was last sited.
Animal-rights activist Gay Gordon expressed concern that the newborn whale was in danger. “While we commend Sea World for saving Tootie’s life, we believe that officials should have delayed the calf’s return to the wild until after the Megalodon’s recapture.”
Pete Soderblom, Sea World’s animal-care supervisor, could not be reached for comment.
“This is horseshit,” yelled Pete. “I was in the office all night and no one called. And this reporter doesn’t even mention the fact that we released Tootie at least a week before the Megalodon even escaped. How the hell were we supposed to know—”
“Forget that, Pete, we’ve got bigger problems,” Andrew said. “I spoke with Jonas Taylor about an hour ago. He’s tracking the Megalodon aboard the William Beebe and confirmed that the creature could reach Grays Harbor within three hours. We have to face the reality that the Meg could enter the bay and slaughter the calf.”
Pete wiped sweat from his brow. “Christ, we’re looking at a public-relations disaster.”
“I got a call this morning from Anheuser-Busch, and, to put it lightly, they are not happy campers. Apparently, associating beer with a defenseless whale calf being eaten by a seventy-foot shark is not what they had in mind for their new ‘back to nature’ campaign. Pete, we need to get down to Grays Harbor with the tractor trailer and get her out of there.”
“Are you certain Tootie’s still in the bay?”
“According to our last radio fix. Why? What are you thinking?”
Pete smiled. “If the Megalodon does enter Grays Harbor to go after the calf, we could use some gill nets to seal off its exit and trap it within the bay. In fact, we could coordinate the Megalodon’s capture with Tootie’s rescue.”
“You want to use Tootie as bait?”
“Unfortunately, her presence near the Megalodon makes her bait. But picture this: Tootie’s safe in the cargo truck, the Megalodon’s been captured, thanks to Sea World, and we’re all celebrating with a cold one. Think I could sell that to Anheuser-Busch?”
“Beats the hell out of Spuds MacKenzie. What do you want me to do?”
“Arrange for the cargo container and harness to rendezvous with us at the Westport Marina. That truck needs to be on the highway within the next hour. I’ll set up a conference call between Jonas Taylor, myself, and the harbor master. We need to minimize boating traffic and see if there are any gill nets available to seal off the mouth of the bay.”
“What about the calf?”
“When you contact Westport Marina, rent us a fishing trawler, complete with nets. We’ll locate Tootie and drag her into shallow water before the monster can get to her. Once she’s safe, we’ll either wait it out or transport her back to Sea World, depending upon what happens with the Meg.”
“We’ll need a crane then.” Andrew motioned to the auditorium. “Don’t forget about the press.”
“I’ll handle them. In fact, I’ll brief them regarding our intentions. Then I want to speak with Jonas Taylor.”
* * *
Jonas shielded his eyes against flying debris as the helicopter touched down on the helo-pad of the William Beebe. He waited until the rotors stopped before greeting Mac.
Mac slid out of the chopper and looked Jonas up and down. “You seem to have recovered well. Guess you have your private nurse to thank for that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jonas asked.
“We need to talk, pal, but not here. Give me a hand. I’ve got the equipment you requested in back.”
Mac led him to the cargo bay. He slid open the door, revealing two wooden crates, each marked “TANAKA OCEANOGRAPHIC INSTITUTE.”
Mac opened the first crate, removing a bizarre-looking rifle. “One Olin RAAM rocket-boosted rifle grenade. It’s not bulky, like a LAWS rocket, and it can be launched from the muzzle of any NATO-standard rifle.”
“Yes, but is it capable of killing an animal this size with one shot?”
“Hell, yes. The charge was designed to go through four hundred millimeters of armor at a range of two hundred fifty meters. One good shot broadside and your shark is fricassee. What’s inside this other crate?”
“A portable acoustics transmitter, tape recorder, and a set of underwater microphones.”
“Planning a deep-sea concert?”
“More like an underwater dinner bell. Let’s leave the grenade rifle inside. We’ll stow the sound equipment in the stern.”
They carried the crate aft, locking it in one of the storage compartments adjacent to the ship’s A-frame.
“So talk to me, Mac. What’s on your mind?”
Mac stared out at the Washington coastline. “Explain to me why you have a death wish.”
“A death wish?”
“Don’t play me for stupid.”
“I have a death wish because I jumped in after that cadet? What was I supposed to do? Stand there and watch him get eaten?”
“You didn’t just go in after him, you went in with reckless abandon, like you didn’t give a shit if you lived or d
ied.”
Jonas spit into the sea.
“I recognize the symptoms, Jonas, I’ve been there myself. You’re suffering from a classic case of survivor’s guilt.”
“I already have a psychiatrist.”
“Now you have two. I guess you’re forgetting that I went through the same thing in ’Nam.”
“How is this the same?”
“Hey, pal, no one volunteers for a third tour of duty unless their brain’s been seriously fucked up. Third week I was in the jungle, I led my platoon straight into a Gook ambush. Lost more than half my men. I blamed myself, just like you. Hell, I must have relived that night in my dreams a thousand times.”
“Do you still have the dreams?”
“Once in a while, but they’re nowhere near as intense. I don’t wake up screaming anymore.” Mac put his arm on Jonas’s shoulder. “You’re going through the same shit I went through, except you’ve declared war on this creature. Course, the creature don’t know it, being just a dumb animal trying to survive, but you—hell, you’re as obsessed as Captain-fucking-Ahab. You blame the last eleven years of your life and everything you’ve lost on this monster, and you won’t be satisfied until you kill it.”
“I didn’t realize all those sessions in the loony bin had taught you so much.”
“Joke if you like, just don’t be so quick to throw your life away. Just because you can’t see the forest for the trees right now doesn’t mean you won’t find your way out. I did, and I was in deep.”
“I know the way out. I’ve seen the way my life ends—”
“They’re just nightmares, Jonas. I used to dream about getting killed all the time, too. Don’t turn them into a self-fulfilling prophecy.”
“I’m not trying to, believe me.”
“Bullshit.” Mac slapped him playfully across his head. “Jumping in to rescue that cadet? Who are you, fucking Batman?”
Jonas smiled. “Okay, that was a tad risky.”
“Yeah, a tad. So, these nightmares of yours—how does it happen—your death?”
Jonas looked Mac in the eye. “I’m in the Abyss Glider, descending to the Mariana Trench. For some reason, I seem to be searching for Terry.”
“Terry’s in the Trench?”
“Yes. She dies with me right after I find her.”
Mac slumped down onto the deck.
“What?”
Mac leaned back against the rail. “I was waiting to tell you. When I stopped by the Institute to pick up your toys, I was told Masao suffered a heart attack.”
The blood drained from Jonas’s face. “When?”
“Yesterday afternoon. Sadia found him unconscious in his office. They transported him to Valley Memorial. The doctor says he’s stable, but he was still unconscious when I stopped by to see him. He looked pretty bad.”
“I need to call the hospital . . . has anyone contacted Terry?” Mac averted eye contact.
“Now what?”
Mac looked pale. “There’s more. Masao had just received word that your wife descended into the Mariana Trench with Benedict Singer. She’s aboard the Benthos.”
Jonas took it like a punch in the gut. His eyes shut, all the strength drained from his body.
“Jonas, she’ll be okay.”
Jonas shook his head. “It’s happening, Mac. My nightmare’s playing itself out like some bizarre déjà vu. Terry and I will both end up in the Trench. The creature will appear and—”
“Take it easy, pal—”
Jonas became enraged. “I begged Terry not to go. Goddamn it, I begged her—”
Mac stood, grabbing him by the arm. “Jonas, listen to me. Terry will be back on board the Goliath in a few days, and the Megalodon is thousands of miles from the Trench. Thousands of miles! Don’t let your guilt fuck with you. Terry descending into the Trench is just a coincidence. I’m telling you, she’ll be topside by the end of the week.”
“I don’t know anymore. I can’t think rationally. Maybe—maybe that’s all it is, just a coincidence, but I can’t take a chance. I need to kill this fucking monster and remove all doubt.”
“Agreed. Once the shark’s dead, you and Terry will ride off into the sunset.”
Jonas exhaled a deep breath. “You’re assuming, of course, that she’ll still have me.”
“She’ll have you, you guys were meant to be together.” Mac looked up to see Celeste approaching. “Just stay away from the temptations of the wicked queen.”
“Why don’t you do us all a favor and fly that bucket of bolts back to Vietnam,” Celeste said.
Mac smiled at her. “Beats the hell out of flying a broomstick—”
“Will the two of you knock it off?”
Celeste turned to Jonas. “I came to tell you that one of the directors over at Sea World is on the radio. He says he knows how we can trap the Meg.”
* * *
Jonas spread the chart of the Pacific Northwest out on the light table, circling Grays Harbor with a red erasable marker. “According to Sea World, the calf they released has taken up residence here, in Grays Harbor. If the Meg stays on her present course, she’ll detect the calf and home in on her. Sea World’s plan is for us to follow the Megalodon into the bay. Once inside, the harbor master would drop the gill nets into place across the inlet, which will hang vertically under the sea like giant curtains. The depth in this area is only fifty to sixty feet, the inlet is about three miles across. The Meg would literally be confined within the bay.”
“Sounds good,” Celeste said.
“It’s not going to be easy. There’s also some financial considerations. Before Westport Marina moves their fishing vessels into place to spread the nets, they want Geo-Tech to guarantee to pay for any and all damages incurred, plus an additional ten thousand dollars to cover labor and expenses.”
Celeste scoffed. “They should be paying us for the publicity we’ll be bringing to their damn harbor. What do you think, Maren?”
“I say do it. We’ll never get another opportunity like this. The costs involved are a drop in the bucket compared to what the Institute’s losing every day.”
She looked at Jonas. “Do you agree?”
“The plan could work, but it’s risky as hell. We’re not allowing the harbor police much time to clear away boating traffic.”
“I disagree,” Maren said. “SOSUS indicates the Megalodon to be less than two miles ahead, moving north at only three knots. At her present speed, she won’t even arrive at the mouth of the bay for another ninety-four minutes.”
Jonas scoffed. “Let me tell you something, Maren, the moment Angel detects that calf, she’ll be racing through the ocean like a runaway freight train. Her top speed’s sixty-eight miles an hour. So you better get that slide rule of yours back out and rethink this whole plan. My vote is to keep this battle at sea. Cornering any animal, let alone a seventy-two-foot great white, is a dangerous proposition. Angel’s spent her entire life in captivity. She’s not going to be real happy about being confined again.”
“I remember when the first shark went berserk off the coast of Monterey,” Mac said. “Plenty of boats went down that afternoon. A lot of people died.”
Maren rolled his eyes in disgust. “We’re wasting time. The harbor master is waiting for our call.”
“This whole discussion seems moot,” Celeste said. “Like it or not, there’s a good chance the creature is going to detect this baby whale and go after it. If it enters the bay, we’d be foolish not to attempt to capture it there.”
“Finally, a voice of reason.” Maren grabbed the radio to contact the harbor master.
Captain Morgan studied the map. “The inlet may be narrow, but Grays Harbor is huge. Harpooning that monster once she enters won’t be very easy—we still have to find her. SOSUS will be useless to us once we’re in the bay.”
“The bay’s shallow,” Jonas said. “Mac and I should be able to spot her from the air.”
“Just locate the baby whale and Angel will follow,” Celeste s
aid.
“Sea World just radioed,” Maren said. “Their rescue team has arrived in Hoquiam. They should be heading out into the bay aboard a fishing trawler within the next twenty minutes.”
Celeste turned to him. “Tell them not to remove the calf before the creature enters.”
“Sea World’s first priority is to save the calf,” Jonas said. “In my opinion, they’re already cutting it close. I’m telling you, once Angel homes in on that whale, she’ll enter the bay faster than you think.”
“Well, if she does, it’ll be arrivederci, Tootie,” Celeste said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Maren said. “As long as the wolf enters the pen, who cares if it happens to eat the sheep?”
Mac shook his head. “You can bet your ass the sheep cares.”
* * *
The gray whale calf known to Sea World as Tootie continued plowing the muddy bottom of Grays Harbor. Unable to keep up with the other migrating whales, the calf had sought shelter in the bay, attracted by the vast quantities of food located along the seabed. Sucking the turbid water into its mouth, the calf filtered out sandhoppers and other bottom-living organisms from the silt through its baleen before sucking the food to the back of its throat. After several minutes Tootie would rise back to the surface to blow, then inhale another breath before returning to feed again along the bottom.
* * *
The predator moved silently along the seafloor, its bioluminescent skin casting a dull glow on the murky bottom. Baleful eyes, cataract-gray, searched the sea in vain for an object its primal senses insisted was somewhere ahead.
Short, powerful sweeps of the crescent tail propelled the giant into a higher gear. Soaring in from behind its darting prey, the leviathan rolled onto its side and opened its jaws, creating a vacuum of sea that sucked a six-foot octopus and its inky trail down into its immense gullet.
Swallowing the morsel whole, the shark righted itself, its bulk sailing effortlessly along the bottom. Once more the predator slowed, returning to automatic pilot, its senses keeping it on the trail of the migrating whale pods.