by Steve Alten
Still shaken, Terry pressed the controls, sealing the hangar doors.
All thoughts of boarding the Epimetheus and stealing the sub disappeared. Dying aboard the Benthos was far better than facing the terror circling outside.
Terry heard the hydraulic rams activate, forcing water out of the hangar and into holding areas located throughout the Benthos. Long minutes passed as the chamber finished draining.
She waited until the panel lights turned green, then exited the control room, inhaling the humidity left behind by the sea. Walking along the damp floor, she inspected the room, verifying the absence of any evidence she had been there.
She held her breath, hearing a strange noise. It was a deep scratching sound, coming from outside the hangar door.
Terry ran from the chamber, sealing the corridor door shut behind her.
Bait
Gulf of Alaska
It was dawn by the time Mac’s helicopter touched down on the deck of the William Beebe. Harry Moon greeted them, escorting them to the control room.
Jonas saw Dr. Maren and Captain Morgan leaning over a chart of the Gulf of Alaska. Celeste was on the other side of the room, arguing with someone on the ship-to-shore.
“You guys look like hell,” said the captain.
“Been there,” Mac muttered.
Celeste slammed down the receiver. “Goddamn it. The Canadian authorities are holding us responsible for the deaths of the female kayaker and the kid who fell off the ferry.”
“We are responsible,” Jonas said.
“That’s horseshit,” Celeste said.
“If a lion escapes from a zoo and kills someone, the zoo’s responsible,” Mac said.
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Well, thank you so very much for enlightening me. You’ll be happy to know that the Canadian Coast Guard has now decided to handle the situation themselves. They’ve dispatched a cutter and two helicopters to locate the shark and kill it.”
Maren scoffed. “Fuck the Canadians. By nightfall the female will have moved into Alaskan waters and out of their jurisdiction.”
“Why are we changing course?” Jonas asked.
Maren pointed to the map. “From Vancouver Island there are two distinct routes migrating whales take to the Bering Sea. We now know the Megalodon is following the main route, along the Canadian and Alaskan coastlines. I expect the shark to continue heading west until she reaches the Aleutian Islands, at which time she should follow the whale pods north, right into the Bering Sea. The William Beebe is now following an alternate route, a shortcut used primarily by gray whales. Our new heading is much quicker, cutting across the Gulf of Alaska, placing us ahead of the shark. This will allow us to cut her off here—at Cape Chiniak, Kodiak Island.”
Jonas studied the map. “And once we get ahead of her, how do you plan to locate her, let alone draw her close enough to the ship to hit her with your harpoon?”
“Change of plans,” Celeste said. “We’re going to drug the monster by using bait.”
“What kind of bait?”
“Sea lions,” Maren said, “the creature’s favorite delicacy. When we get to Kodiak Island, three freshly killed sea lion bulls will be loaded on board. I’m going to surgically implant large dosages of anesthetic into each carcass. We’ll hook the bait, attach it to the winch by steel cable, then drag it along the surface until the Megalodon takes it. Within five minutes of consuming the drugs, the shark will be out cold.”
Captain Morgan studied the map. “When do you estimate the monster will reach Cape Chiniak?”
“If she continues her present speed, maybe three or four days.”
“Then I suggest we go on shifts,” Harry said.
Maren nodded in agreement. “I’ll put together a schedule.”
Valley Memorial Hospital
Monterey, California
When Sadia Kleffner entered her employer’s private room, she was surprised to see him sitting up in bed, a nurse tending to him.
“Masao, how do you feel?”
“Sadia, thank God. Kindly inform this nurse that I must leave here immediately.”
“Just sit back and relax, Mr. Tanaka. You’re not going anywhere until the doctor says.”
“But I feel better—”
“I’m sure your doctor will be glad to hear that. Now lie back down before I tie you to the bed.”
Masao glared at the nurse, then lay back, giving in to the larger woman.
Sadia sat down on the edge of the bed. “They finished replacing the lagoon doors yesterday. King Kong himself couldn’t get through these.”
Masao watched the nurse leave. “What is it, Sadia? I know when you’re hiding something.”
Sadia broke eye contact. “There’s been another death. A young boy.”
Masao shut his eyes, feeling the strain in his chest.
“The media’s on the warpath. Things are getting nasty.”
“Have you heard from my daughter?”
“I finally got through to the Goliath. They claim Terry decided to remain on board the Benthos for another week.”
“What? She’s still in the Trench?”
Sadia could see the older man’s hands trembling. “Masao, they assured me everything is fine.”
“No, something is wrong, I can feel it. Where is Jonas?”
“Heading into the Gulf of Alaska. They’re attempting to intercept the creature at Kodiak Island. Oh, and we delivered the AG-Two as per Celeste’s orders.”
“The AG-Two?” Masao opened his eyes. “Why the abyssal sub?”
“I don’t know. Celeste specifically requested the AG-Two.”
Masao shook his head. “Sadia, listen to me carefully. I want you to contact Commander James Adams at the Navy base in Guam. Tell him I wish to meet with him immediately. Make arrangements for me to fly out as soon as possible.”
“But the doctor hasn’t discharged you yet.”
Masao sat up, removing an IV tube from his arm. “I’m discharging myself.”
“Masao—”
“Sadia, my children’s lives are at stake. Now hand me my clothes before Nurse Ratched returns.”
Cape Chiniak
Southwest Coast of Kodiak Island
Celeste stood by the starboard rail, watching as the last of the three sea lion carcasses was lifted from the hull of the fishing boat and onto the deck of the William Beebe, then packed in ice.
Maren joined her, handing her a telegram. “This message just came from the Goliath.”
Celeste opened it. “It’s from Benedict.”
“What’s it say?”
“Age quod agis—to the business at hand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means he’s losing patience with me.”
“Don’t worry,” Maren said, slipping his arm around her waist. “We’ll capture the Megalodon very—”
Celeste pushed his arm away. “I told you, not in public.”
“Why not? Are you afraid Taylor might see you? Don’t deny it, Celeste, I see the way you look at him.”
“Jealousy doesn’t become you, Michael. As Benedict says, tend to the business at hand.” She checked her watch. “What time am I scheduled on lookout?”
“I gave you the noon till six shift. Harry will relieve you until midnight, then Taylor and Mackreides take over from twelve to six A.M. It worked out nicely. You and I will be able to see each other late at night without Taylor knowing.”
“Idiot.” Celeste’s eyes blazed in anger. “I’ll determine if and when we’ll be together, not your hormones. I specifically instructed you to put Jonas and me together.”
Maren cowered back. “I know, but Taylor insisted he and Mackreides take the midnight shift. What was I supposed to do?”
Celeste watched the fishing boat move away from the William Beebe. “The two of them are up to something. Where’s Jonas now?”
“Last time I saw him, he was with Mackreides in the chopper.”
“Find him. Tell him that I’m very up
set, that I’m worried about the Benthos. Tell him I need to speak with him in my cabin right away.”
“What about us? What about tonight?”
“Business before pleasure. Now do as I say.”
* * *
Maren peered into the cockpit. Finding it empty, he walked around to the helicopter’s cargo-bay door and slid it open.
Empty.
As he was about to secure the door, Maren noticed the butt of what appeared to be a large rifle lying beneath a blanket. He climbed inside, then pulled back the blanket, exposing the rest of the grenade rifle.
“Son of a bitch . . .”
Making sure no one was watching, he slipped into the back of the chopper and went to work.
* * *
“You’re insane,” Mac said, closing the cabin door behind him.
“It’s risky, but it’ll work,” Jonas said. “It’s the only way I know I’ll have a clear shot at the Megalodon.”
“Exactly bow close are you planning to be?”
“Fifty, sixty yards.”
“And what’s to prevent the creature from attacking you?”
“The shark won’t even know I’m in the Zodiac. Instead of using the raft’s engine, I’m going to allow the William Beebe to tow me, just ahead of the bait.”
“You are insane. Look, at least let me go with you.”
“You can’t. I need you watching the sea from above. The transmitter will tell me when she’s in the area but you’ll be able to spot her before I do.”
“I still think this plan of yours is too risky.”
“Maybe, but this madness has to stop. Tonight I end this, one way or the other.”
They were interrupted by a knock. Mac opened the door.
Celeste stood in the corridor, her makeup streaked with tears. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“Celeste, what’s wrong?” Jonas asked.
“When you have a chance, I need to talk to you.”
“I’m just leaving,” Mac said, rolling his eyes.
Celeste stood by the porthole, her eyes glistening with tears. “Jonas, I don’t know where our friendship is going, but I need your support. I need you to trust me.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been thinking about the nightmares you’ve been having. Maybe we shouldn’t ignore them. I know this sounds crazy, but for my own peace of mind, I need to warn Benedict about the Devil’s Purgatory.”
Jonas shook his head. “All of a sudden you believe in my dreams? I thought you said it’s just my guilt—”
“Terry’s still on board the Benthos.”
“What?” Jonas grabbed her arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why the hell is she still in the Trench?”
“According to Benedict, Terry absolutely refuses to leave until the last UNIS is deployed.”
Jonas felt weak. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. “I want to speak with her.”
“You can’t. Only the Goliath can communicate directly with the Benthos.” She sat down next to him, massaging his neck. “Jonas, give me the coordinates of the Devil’s Purgatory. Let me warn them.”
Jonas was silent.
“You still don’t trust me, do you?”
“It’s not a question of trust.”
“Then your word to the Navy is worth more than Terry’s life, is that it?”
“Now you’re worried about Terry?”
“I’m worried about Benedict and the crew of the Benthos, the only family I have. Do I have to remind you that these people are seven miles beneath the ocean, that the slightest breach in their hull would—”
“Celeste, stop. I’m the last person who needs to be lectured about the Mariana Trench. Look, I need to think—let me think about this, okay?”
Celeste turned away in frustration. “Fine. Sit here and do nothing. But if something happens to those people, I’ll never forgive you.”
* * *
Surrounded by impenetrable darkness, Jonas lost all sense of direction. Pressing his face against the cold LEXAN glass, he stared into oblivion, waiting for the Angel of Death to appear.
A faint glow circled in the distance. Jonas couldn’t’t tell if it was below or above him, only that he was moving toward it. The light grew larger, the shape taking form. Jonas began trembling, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach.
The being seemed to sense his presence. It broke from its circling pattern, the triangular head moving silently toward him, its ghostly, luminescent skin frightening against the pitch blackness of the abyss.
Jonas fought to draw a breath. Terrified, yet unable to turn away, he watched his tormentor open its grotesque jaws, exposing the cathedral-like gullet.
An object appeared from within the beast’s mouth. In surreal motion it was expelled from the jaws, rising toward him.
An escape pod?
The clear coffinlike tube stopped several feet below him. Jonas could see the silhouette of a figure within. A man, totally naked, his face hidden in shadow.
The glow from the beast diminished, allowing the features of the face to come into view. Jonas screamed, staring at the lifeless figure—of himself.
* * *
Jonas lifted his head from the suffocating pillow and shut off the alarm clock. He rolled onto his back, the vision of his own lifeless body lying in the escape pod refusing to go away. Still trembling, he sat up, his skin drenched with sweat.
He looked at the clock: 11:35 P.M. Still feeling claustrophobic, he limped to the porthole, pulled back the drape, and opened the window. A blast of Arctic air filled the cabin. Jonas felt a light drizzle. Sealing the porthole, he began pulling on his wet suit.
He knew he was in for a bad night.
The rain was coming down harder by the time he walked out on deck. He adjusted the hood of his parka, then crossed the slick aft deck.
Mac was speaking with Harry Moon by the big winch. Harry nodded to him. “Miserable enough night, huh?”
“I hope it doesn’t get worse,” Jonas said.
Harry looked up. “This rain should ease by two or three. Not much to do, really. Just watch the line and try to stay awake. If that monster of yours decides to take a bite, you’ll know it. Just give her as much line as she wants and pray those drugs take effect.”
“I know the drill,” Jonas said.
“Then I’ll say good night. Celeste is set to relieve you at six.”
Jonas waited until Harry had disappeared inside. Then he reversed the winch and reeled in the bait, while Mac headed for the chopper to retrieve their equipment.
Jonas watched as six hundred thirty pounds of dripping sea lion carcass was dragged up from the sea. He stopped the winch, then grabbed the two-inch-thick steel line and swung the waterlogged bait over the transom, releasing enough cable to allow the load to flop onto the deck.
The steel cable ran through the sea lion’s mouth to a three-foot hook piercing the lining of the stomach. A porous ten-gallon elixir of drugs had been surgically placed within the animal’s digestive tract. An additional dozen pouches containing more anesthetics had been hastily sewn along the blubbery hide.
Maren’s taking no chances.
Mac returned with the grenade rifle. Jonas unlocked the storage compartment, removing a small suitcase from the crate. Opening the case, he extracted a powerful wireless underwater speaker. Mac stretched the sea lion’s mouth wide, allowing Jonas to shove the instrument into the animal’s esophagus.
“Let’s test it.” Jonas reached into the suitcase to power up the sound system. A deep baritone thrumming rose from the carcass. Jonas turned up the volume, the voodoolike acoustics causing the lifeless mound of blubber to gyrate across the slick deck.
“Damn thing’s dancing,” Mac said. “How far away will your shark be able to hear this racket?”
“Sound travels much farther underwater. There’s no telling how acute the Megalodon’s senses are, but I’d guess she’ll be able to detect these vibra
tions quite a distance away.” Jonas wiped rain from his face. “Help me get this bait back into the water.”
He restarted the winch. The carcass rose off the deck. Mac pushed it out over the side as Jonas released three hundred feet of cable. The sea lion disappeared into the night, its pounding reverberations echoing in the dark.
“My turn,” Jonas said
“Jonas—”
“Mac, don’t, we’ve already been through this. Just help me with the Zodiac.”
Extending out along either side of the ship’s mid-deck were small winches designed to launch the motorized rubber rafts known as Zodiacs. Jonas climbed aboard one, attaching a long coil of nylon rope to the bow of the craft.
“There’s two hundred feet of rope here,” Jonas said “Allowing for the ship’s draft, that should place me a hundred and fifty feet in front of the bait.”
Mac shook his head, handing him the grenade rifle. “That translates into two Megalodon body lengths, not much room if you ask me. It’d be safer if I piloted the Zodiac.”
“I told you, towing’s better. The sound of the Zodiac’s engine would attract Angel.”
Mac passed him a walkie-talkie. “I’ll keep the chopper at one hundred feet, but I’m also going to trail the rescue harness, just in case you need to get off this raft in a hurry.”
Jonas forced a smile, then removed a remote headset from the case. He placed it over his ears, pausing to listen.
“Anything?”
“No, she’s not in range yet. You realize this could be a long night.”
“Just don’t fall asleep in the boat, Ahab.” Mac released the catch on the A-frame’s pulley, allowing the Zodiac to drop straight down to the sea.
Jonas reached up and released the boat from its harness. Taken by the William Beebe’s wake, the raft drifted quickly behind the research vessel, which was moving southwest at just under three knots.
Using the length of rope, Mac guided the Zodiac behind the stern. He secured the end to the iron guardrail, allowing the raft to be towed halfway between the William Beebe and the trailing bait.
Jonas situated himself within the rubber raft, which glided silently along the surface of the dark Alaskan waters with barely a ripple. A cold rain continued to fall from the overcast sky, the northern air sending shivers down his spine. Sitting low in the boat, he propped a life preserver against the bow and leaned back, facing the engine.