Spawn Of The Deep

by Michael Bray

  “She told me about you. She said you were a drunk. A mess.”

  “I was. She wasn’t the only one who struggled to cope. It was the only way I knew how to handle it.”

  Jade pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “She’d never talk about it. I tried to get her to open up, to at least tell me so she could get it off her chest and out in the open, but all she would ever say was that there was more truth to the book than fiction.”

  “Yeah, it was… hard to go back to normality after that.”

  She turned more towards him, ghost of a smile on her lips. “So tell me about it. The book says this… monster you encountered was huge. Unbelievably huge. You just made reference to it yourself. Describe it. How big was it?”

  He swallowed and stared at his hands, then back at her. “Are you asking me as Clara’s sister or as a journalist?”

  “I’m just asking. Does it make a difference?”

  “It depends what your motives are. One thing I’ve learned from this whole experience is that it changes people. Your sister tried to fictionalize it. I tried to drink it away. Other people who were involved tried to control it. One thing I’ve learned about it since I got sober is that I can’t blame this creature for what happened. Sure enough, I’ve lost people. Friends, family. Even a little bit of myself. For a while, I was determined to find it, to kill this thing in the hope it would make things better. Thing is, I know it won’t. All it was guilty for was following its instincts. We were in its territory. It shouldn’t be a surprise that it reacted aggressively, so what’s the point of trying to take revenge on it? If this Decker guy is involved in any of this then I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “He is involved, I’m sure of it.”

  “Can I make a suggestion?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Drop this. Leave it be and move on to something else. This won’t end well. I tried to warn your sister not to get mixed up in things and she refused. In the end, it cost her life. I don’t know you well at all, but I wouldn’t want that to happen. God knows enough people have already died because of this thing.”

  “I can’t just drop it. I’m close to a breakthrough. Decker’s boat is due in town. When it docks I’m going to go down there, check it out and see what I can find.”

  “No,” Rainwater said.

  “Excuse me?” she replied, cheeks flushing and her face taking on the same hot-headed frustration as he had seen in her sibling countless times.

  “I said no. Don’t do that. This isn’t the movies. You can’t go sneaking around the docks and trespassing on people’s property just because you have a hunch about something which may not even be true.”

  “You don’t even know me. How can you sit there and try to tell me what to do?”

  “Don’t you get it? I’m trying to help you. This isn’t about a story or finding out what Decker might or might not be doing. It’s about safety. Think of your family. Do you think they want to lose you too?”

  “That’s not fair. You can’t use them against me. They understand, they want me to build a career.”

  “So go build one, just not around this. This isn’t something that will ever end well for anyone who gets mixed up in it.”

  She was angry and glaring at him. “So tell me about it. Everyone is so full of damn secrets about this, how can you expect me not to be interested?”

  “How about this,” he said, unsure why he felt so protective over someone he barely knew. “If you agree to drop it, I’ll tell you everything. The whole story from the beginning. The only condition is that you can’t print it. If you do, I’ll go to jail. Most likely you will too. There is a lot more to this than what appeared in your sister’s book.”

  She stared at him, and he saw she was shaking and her eyes were wet with tears. “You swear to me you will tell it all?”

  “All of it. Right from the start.”

  “Alright, I’ll do it, but you better not lie to me.”

  “Trust me, this is one of those times when truth is stranger than fiction.”

  “So spill it. Tell me about it.”

  Rainwater took a sip of his drink, then leaned back in his chair, recalling memories, letting his mind drift back to that first encounter on the Red Gold that skewed his life into an unexpected and unwelcome direction. He took a deep breath and started to tell her what had happened, leaving nothing out.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TRITON SPIRE

  Pacific Ocean

  Twenty six miles off the coast of California

  Purpose built on a natural rock ridge a mile beneath the Pacific Ocean, the Triton Spire was an incredible feat of engineering. At a cost of almost eight hundred million dollars, the structure was unique. The underwater sections, a series of bubble likes structures fixed to the ridge and interconnected by a vast network of corridors, comprised of a network of laboratory facilities, each bubble made from four inch plate steel to withstand the tremendous water pressures. In the center of the cluster of bubbles was the spire itself, a vertical tube connected to the surface and in turn connected to another structure which sat on top of the ocean. Like its twin, it too was aseries of bubble structures; however, these were bright and airy, living quarters for the staff who worked beneath the surface. Passage between the two sections was by high speed elevator, allowing free movement between both structures.

  In his lavish meeting room on the upper structure, Charles Decker stared out of the oval window at the glorious Pacific Ocean and sighed. He turned towards the man at the table.

  “We’ve already been through this, Darrell.”

  “You don’t pay me to butter you up and kiss your arse. You pay me to tell you the truth.”

  “I pay you to train my animals. Are you saying I hired the wrong man?

  “No, I’m saying you have unrealistic expectations.”

  Decker turned back towards the window.

  Darrell was Darrell Conway. The thirty-seven-year old former Navy lieutenant had been working for Decker for the last two years as head of his behavioral sciences division. At six feet two inches of pure muscle, shaved head and sharp blue eyes, he was an imposing sight as he worked around the complex. Bitter at his discharge from the Navy, he had a renowned mean streak and was, for the most part, avoided by the other staff.

  “Look,” Darrell said, restraining his temper. “This isn’t like training dolphins or killer whales. You have to understand that. It’s totally different.”

  Decker spun back around to face him. “I seem to remember a conversation we had right before I hired you where you were under the impression that this wouldn’t be vastly different. You were head trainer at SeaWorld for what, three years?”

  “Five. Like I said, this is different. Orcas are a known quantity. They respond to very specific stimulus. These things… they don’t.”

  Decker raised his eyebrows. “I was under the impression that you were making progress on that front.”

  “We are. But progress doesn’t mean these are ready to sell. Not by a long shot.”

  “This is why I pay you, Darrell, so that I don’t have to worry about this kind of thing. Our buyers are coming here in a few days. I need these animals to be ready.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you,” Darrell said with a sigh. “They’re not. They won’t be. You know we’ve already lost three trainers to these things, right?”

  “Of course I know,” Decker snapped. “Paying so much compensation to the families isn’t something I’m likely to forget.” He sat down, putting his palms on the desk. “What kind of problems are you having and how can we fix them?”

  “They are tricky, Charles. Really tricky. Sometimes, they’ll be going along with the training, doing everything we ask, and then one of the others will rush in from the side. Twice in the last month I’ve almost been taken by them.”

  “These aren’t pack hunters. You must have made a mistake.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Darrell leaned forward, pointing at Decker
. “You hired me to do this job and that’s what I’m trying to do. I’m telling you, these things do hunt in packs, and they are dangerous. It seems to me maybe you’re underestimating them.”

  “Come on, Darrell, I thought you were made of stronger stuff than this. You trained twenty-eight-foot killer whales for god’s sake. Are you telling me you’re afraid of these juveniles? They’re only fourteen feet!”

  “Damn right I’m scared. You should be too.” Darrell folded his arms, doing his best to keep calm. “I don’t think you understand exactly what I’m saying to you. These animals, they are unlike anything you have ever experienced before. True, they are juveniles, god help us if they ever grew to full size. What I’m telling you is, juvenile or not, these things are already lethal to humans. Now I appreciate this is a big deal for you—”

  “Big deal?” Decker said, letting out a shrill laugh. “You have no idea how big. Do you know how much I have invested in this? This facility? The unlimited research budget you and your team enjoy, not to mention the scientific resources? If this goes under, I’m left with nothing.”

  “I hardly think it’s quite as bad as that.”

  “No,” Decker said, eyes wild and a little afraid. “It is. It’s make or break for me, Darrell. You know those numbers they attribute to people like me? ‘Oh, he’s worth three billion or he’s worth five billion.’ That’s all bullshit. That’s net worth of businesses. Shares. Big pies with a lot of fingers in them. This project has been funded by me, using my own money. I’ve put everything in to it. It has to succeed.”

  “This is what I’m trying to say to you,” Darrell said, holding Decker’s gaze. “You hired me as an expert, and in my expert opinion, you need to abort this sale. Delay it by at least six months. We’re not ready yet.”

  Decker shook his head, then stood and walked back to the window, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin. “Six months you say. Delay it, you say. Do you have any idea how much a six month delay would cost me, not to mention the damage it would do to my reputation? I won’t go into detail but it’s more than you could ever imagine. Now the fact remains that I hired you to do a job. I don’t care how much overtime you and your staff have to put in, and I don’t care what it takes to get it done, but those animals will be trained and ready to ship by the time our buyers arrive. Understood?”

  Darrell stood, glaring at Decker. “As long as you understand what I’m telling you. If one of your billionaire buyers gets killed by one of these things, don’t come to me looking for answers. You might be a rich man, Charles, but money doesn’t impress me. I’ll keep doing my job for as long as I can. You just remember this conversation, because when the shit hits the fan, you better not blame me.” He stormed out of the boardroom, slamming the door behind him. Decker walked back to the window and closed his eyes, telling himself that everything would work out for the best. It always did.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MALLONE’S RESTAURANT

  Little Italy, New York City

  The red brick restaurant was alive with chatter as the lunchtime rush reached its peak. Greg Michaels stepped through the door, his senses overcome with the glorious smells of fine Italian cooking. Dough and tomatoes, pasta and herbs. Although he didn’t feel hungry before he walked in, his stomach quivered at the idea of sampling some of Mallone’s signature dishes. He walked to the back of the restaurant, passing diners who he was sure were oblivious to just who owned the establishment they had chosen to eat in. It was quieter here, and much cooler. Two men stood by a segregated raised section of the restaurant, which was sealed off by a red rope. As Greg approached, the men standing either side of it unhooked the rope and granted him access, their stony faces betraying no emotion.

  The half dozen tables beyond the rope were empty apart from one at the back, which, like the cordon, was flanked by two men in suits who may as well have been robots for all the humanity they showed. Greg’s stomach tightened as he saw the man seated at the table, dressed as always in his white suit, greasy hair brushed back and stuck to his head with what looked like a gallon of oil.

  “Take a seat,” Victor Mallone said, his grin looking especially white next to his tanned skin.

  Greg did as he was told, taking a seat opposite one of the most dangerous men in all of New York.

  “You want something to eat? A drink?” Victor said, his accent thick with Italian twang, gold rings and bracelet glittering under the ceiling spotlights as he took a sip of his wine.

  “No, I’m good,” Greg mumbled, giving the two heavies by the table a cautious glance. It wasn’t lost on him that they could snap his neck like a pencil with little effort if their overweight employer demanded it.

  Victor watched him, dark eyes probing and dull somehow. Greg imagined it was similar to how a lion watches its prey just before it pounced.

  “I’m glad you reconsidered my request that you come out to see me. Vic said you didn’t seem too keen on the idea.”

  “Under the circumstances, I’m sure you can understand why.”

  Victor said nothing. He simply stared. Lion and gazelle. Panic surged through Greg, he had to explain, had to state his case. “Look, Victor, I’m sorry about the boat. Really I am. And all that mess with the Russev’s, I—”

  Victor held up a fat hand, white ghosts of scars visible on his forearm. “That’s not why you’re here. True, having my boat impounded was an inconvenience, but I’ve been around long enough to have plans in place to get me out of messes like that. As for the Russev’s, they know well enough not to cross me. They know I’ll take it out on their families if they do. Consider all that water under the bridge.”

  Greg shuffled in his seat.“So why am I here?”

  Victor folded his pudgy hands on the tabletop. “Last time you came to me wanting my help, you talked about this… monster you were looking for.”

  “Yes.”

  “For obvious reasons, I didn’t believe you. Why would I? However, when the boat was impounded, the Russev’s pretty much backed up your story.”

  “It’s true, just like I told you at the time, it was important to me to go out there and do what I intended to, even if it did all go wrong.

  Victor leaned forward, his stomach pressing against the table; face thrown into an ugly mask by the way the lights cast him into partial shadow. “All this stuff with the boat, with the Russev’s cost me. A lot of time. A lot of money. Time I could have been spending on more important things. As you know, money means nothing to me. I have more than I could ever spend, more than someone like you will ever see in a lifetime. Even so, it’s a matter of principal. You cost me time and money, and because of that, I now own you. That’s the reason you’re sitting there across the table and not feeding the fish at the bottom of the Hudson River.”

  Greg was frozen, too afraid to look at Victor, instead focusing on the tabletop. The Italian went on.

  “Ever since then, I keep hearing things. Rumors. Whispers. Some people saying this creature you mentioned is real and has been around for a while, others saying its all bullshit and that it never existed at all. Nobody seems to be able to give me a straight answer, so I’m asking you. Right here, right now. This beast of yours. Is it real?”

  Greg looked Victor in the eye, holding the Italian’s gaze. “I swear to you, it’s real. I’ve seen it twice.” He propped his arm on the desk and rolled up his sleeve, showing Victor the scarred stump of a wrist. “It was so real, so frightening that I cut off my own hand to get away from it.”

  Satisfied, Victor leaned back, his face out of the shadows and reverting to his fat, greasy self. “There’s a man I’ve heard of. A rich man called Decker. You ever heard of him?”

  Greg shook his head.

  “I hear he has some of these creatures. That he’s breeding them.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “He has a lab, a facility out in the Pacific. It’s secret, off the books. Word is he has these creatures there.”

  “If y
ou want them dead, then you’ve picked the wrong man. I’m done with all that.”

  Victor glared, and Greg realized he’d overstepped the line. “You’re done when I say you’re done. Fact is you owe me. This is your opportunity to clear your debts. Are you saying you don’t want that chance? Should I have Marco and Giuseppe here take you out back, slice you up and feed you to the dogs?”

  Greg stared at the tablecloth, letting his eyes trace the subtle pattern. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to take a crew of my men out to this facility of Decker’s, and take what he has. By all accounts, the black market value on these things is something else. You do this for me, and that’s you and me square.”

  “Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, I really do. But these creatures can’t be captured. People have tried and they’re just too big, too dangerous. I’ve almost lost my life twice to these things. I’m not prepared to do it again. I’m sorry, but if the alternative is to kill me, then that’s what you’re gonna have to do.”

  Victor smiled, the simple expression somehow chilling. “You know my reputation,” Victor said, taking a sip of his wine. “You know I always get what I want. You might not care about your life, and to be honest I don’t either. But I’m sure you’re soon to be ex-wife does. As does your seven-year-old daughter. Annabelle, is it?”

  “You leave her alone, she’s got nothing to do with this!” Greg said, slamming a fist on the table.

  “How do you think little Annabelle will feel when she is having her fingernails pulled off, or the skin peeled from her face, knowing it was all because of her deadbeat father who has let her down so spectacularly because he didn’t want to pay his debts?”

  “You wouldn’t do that, she’s just a kid.”

  Victor exhaled. “Only, you know I would do that. I wouldn’t even lose any sleep over it. If you want to stop it from happening, you’ll go out there and bring me what I asked for.”