by Greig Beck
She nodded appreciatively. “Looks beautiful. The Heceta, huh? Yeah, good choice.”
He came to the wharf edge, and put a leg onto his boat. Jack held out a hand. She took it stepping up and onto the gunwale and then jumping in. Jack leapt in behind her, followed by Ozzy.
“Want to freshen up? The cabin downstairs has everything you need. Come up on deck when you’re ready.”
“Sure.” She took her bag. “But after driving for an hour, priority one is a washroom.” Cate went down the stairs, taking in the fresh varnish, and wood scents. The Heceta bobbed on a few slight swells, and below deck there was the pleasant sound of lapping water against the hull.
Cate stood with her hands on her hips. The cabin was immaculate – there was a double bed, with fresh linen, and flowers everywhere. Sunlight streamed in through old-style portholes, and there was an ensuite washroom. She grabbed her makeup case, and pushed in. Upstairs she could hear Jack lurching around, and the skitter of Ozzy’s claws on the polished wood.
She changed into shorts, deck shoes, and a t-shirt, and emerged into the afternoon sun to the sound of cicadas somewhere off in the trees behind the cabins, as well as a few gulls squabbling on the railing of the wharf.
“Drink?” Jack asked, pointing to a fully stocked bar.
“Just water for now; I’m still a bit parched after the drive down.” She sat in one of the seats on the rear upper deck; the breeze from the water felt great against her skin.
“No wonder you never come into the city.” She took the offered glass.
Jack continued to stand and looked out over the water. “No need to now; most of my work is on the water, and this baby, has WiFi connectivity for phone, fax, and Internet. I’m free of your mortal city constraints.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Why do I get the feeling you’re running away from something?”
“Who me?” He looked shocked, but then grinned. “Not at all. You know, most people work all their life and then hope to retire to something like this…” He placed one hand on the polished railing beside him, and rubbed. “I get to continue working at something I enjoy, and now thanks to the Mironov Foundation, I have my retirement dream here and now.” He sat down, one eyebrow up. “Some might say I’d be a good catch.”
She raised her glass. “Here’s to never-ending fishing quips.”
He raised his beer bottle. “Aye aye.”
Jack’s phone rang in his pocket, and he grimaced. “Sorry.” He pulled it out quickly, and looked down at the small screen. “Hey, an old friend.” He held it up. “You mind?”
“Go ahead, but I’ll be looking for one of those beers in a minute.” She eased back in her chair, looking towards the shoreline; she still wasn’t comfortable looking over open water, even after half a year.
Jack got to his feet, turning away. “Vince, how you doin’?” He frowned. “Speak up, buddy, what’re you in the chopper?” He turned back to Cate, his mouth open. “You’re where?”
The sound of a helicopter could be heard in the distance, and Jack turned to face it.
“I’ve got company…” he stopped to listen some more, his frown deepening.
Cate watched closely now.
“Yeah, yeah, sure. See you in…” He looked up at the huge helicopter as it came around the bend in the coastline. “Probably five minutes I’d say. I’m at the end of Miller’s Wharf; you can’t miss me.”
“Friends of yours?” Cate asked, eyes on the approaching chopper.
“Yeah, Vincent Kelly, we go way back. He’s a senior officer in the Coast Guard. We’ve worked together numerous times over the years.” He put his beer down. “Says he’s got something for me to look at.” He shrugged as he got Cate a cold beer.
Cate took it and turned to the settling chopper. “Something that was important enough for him to fly all the way up here to show you personally.”
* * *
The huge helicopter settled gently on a grassy picnic area. A few residents stuck their heads out of cabin doors, shielded their eyes and stared as the craft powered down. Jack knew he’d have some explaining to do after this was over. The last thing he wanted was for one of them to tell his landlord he was disturbing the peace – he might find his rent suddenly going up… waaay up.
The chopper’s rotor brakes slowed the sixty-two-foot blades until they finally stopped. Jack could see two figures inside pull off their helmets, and then they jumped out, and immediately headed towards the wharf.
Jack saw the familiar gait of his friend, and with him a slimmer female figure, dressed in a near identical Coast Guard uniform.
“Looks like he brought a date,” Cate said. “Better get me another beer before the party starts.”
“Huh?” he turned to her and grinned. “Good idea.” He went to the small icebox and grabbed another cold bottle and handed it to her. “Somehow, I don’t think he’s here for the booze.”
Vincent Kelly stopped at the wharf edge, looking down. “Captain Monroe, permission to come aboard.” He saluted, grinning.
“Only if you brought rum.” Jack held the boat and wharf to steady them, as Vincent jumped onto the deck. He didn’t turn to help the woman, who jumped down beside him, landing lightly. She had short-cropped red-blond hair, a snub nose and a dimpled chin. Her green eyes glinted with fierce intelligence.
Vincent turned to her. “Pilot First Class, Regina Boxer.” He turned back to Jack. “Regina, Jack Monroe, the guy I told you about.”
Jack shook her hand, and stood aside. “And this is Cate Granger, a good friend.” Cate nodded and shook hands with both of them
“Beer?” Jack asked, already reaching towards the box.
“We’re working, but…” He shrugged. “Sure.” He looked briefly to Regina who nodded. “Make that two.”
Jack grinned up at Regina. “And two for you as well?”
Vincent nudged her. “I told you, he’s got old jokes.”
Regina laughed. “Just the one; I’m the sap who has to do all the flying.”
Jack led them under the canopy, and motioned to the storage benches that had cushions on them. He and Cate sat back in their chairs.
“So, Vince, long way to come for a beer, buddy. What’s up?” Jack could see something in his friend’s eyes – impatience, worry… something.
Vincent‘s eyes shot to Cate for a moment. “Please tell me you don’t work for the LA Times.”
Cate scoffed and Jack waved the question away. “Don’t worry, she’s an evolutionary biologist, so may have some insights into whatever it is you want to chat about.” He leaned forward. “Which is?”
Vincent reached under his jacket and pulled out a folder and opened it. There were several pictures in it, and he quickly sorted through them. He began to hand them one after the other to Jack.
Cate leaned closer. Jack looked at the first – an image of nighttime scene on the water. A person, Vincent, he assumed, was standing on the body of a floating whale.
“Big whale.” He looked up “Blue or fin?”
“Fin, about eighty feet we think.” He handed Jack another photo. “Now look at the bite mark. Please tell me that’s multiple bites and not a single one.”
Jack turned to the next shot. The huge chunk of missing flesh showed the white blubber cut all the way down to pinkish meat of muscle that continued on down below the water-line. The sheared off rib was also visible.
Jack pursed his lips to whistle, but no sound came. He felt his gut give a little kick. “Yeah, maybe.”
Vincent sat forward. “Could a prop do that? A big freighter, with a twenty-five foot screw on full rotation?”
Jack knew it couldn’t make a wound that clean, no matter how sharp, or how fast the propeller was turning. “Maybe.” He handed the picture to Cate, whose brows were drawn together.
“Two maybes.” Vincent sighed and handed Jack his last photo. “Then there’s this, Mr Maybe.”
The image showed Vincent once again on the whale carcass. The pictu
re was taken with some sort of 3D illuminating film that made much of the whale seem to float in space. But it was the huge torpedo-shaped shadow passing underneath the carcass that sent a jolt through Jack’s body.
He swallowed dryly. He knew exactly what it was. He went to hand it back, but Cate caught his arm, dragging the picture towards her.
Cate squinted hard at the image, and then straightened, her eyes dead as she handed it over. Jack felt her turn to him, but he wouldn’t look at her for fear of betraying his own thoughts.
“Well, Jack, you’re the expert. But tell me that doesn’t look like a shark.” Vincent sat back. “And yes, I know water can magnify some objects just below the surface, but the refraction and distortion rate is only in the order of about ten per cent.” He exhaled. “That damn thing looks to be sixty feet.”
“I also took some thermal shots. It was no whale, but it flared hot.” Regina’s green eyes were like gun barrels.
Jack nodded. “The Great White is warm-blooded, so it can regulate its own body temperature. That’s why it can adapt to different water temperatures. It’d be as hot as a whale.”
“A Great White; that’s what I originally thought.” Vincent reached into his pocket and pulled out the tooth fragment. He held it out. “From the bite wound.”
Jack took it in his palm, feeling its weight. It was a glossy white, around two and half inches long. He knew the largest Great White tooth ever found, measured out at about three inches. That was estimated to be from a shark around twenty-five feet in length. He looked at the blunt end – broken off – it had been bigger.
“Now that’s a goddamned big shark,” Vincent said.
Jack held it up. “Carcharodo…”
“Carcharodon Carcharias – yeah, that’s it… the Great White. Now I remember.” Vincent turned to Regina. “Thought so.”
Jack stared. “No, it’s something else.”
“Shit.” Cate stood up too quickly, knocking her chair over, and walking away.
Jack turned to her, reaching out to grab her forearm. She looked pale. He held on, looking up at her. “It can’t possibly be…”
“Yes it can.” She gently pulled her arm free and disappeared down into the cabin. Jack thought she had panicked, and went to follow her when she reappeared, holding a plastic sleeve with some papers in it. She sat back down, and held it out to him.
He took it from her, turned it around, and looked at the pages. They were from a web site and showed an image of something on the deck of a fishing boat. He frowned and then angled it to get better light.
“Russian?”
Cate nodded.
Jack scanned the printed story underneath the images, and then his eyes went back to the long fish-like thing. “The Southern Bering Sea.” He looked up. “Not that far from Baranof.”
Cate just stared back at him. “There’s something else; remember that small earthquake in the papers a few months back? Well I spoke to the Colorado seismic event facilities. They recorded a huge warm-water temperature spike in the Bering Sea.”
Jack held her gaze. “Upwelling?”
Cate hiked her shoulders. Vincent watched them and reached out to take some of the pages from Jack. Regina leaned in closer to look over his shoulder. The Coast Guard officer looked up.
“Is this related?”
“Maybe,” Jack said.
“Will you stop saying that, Jack?” Vincent shoved the pictures back at him. “Listen buddy, we’ve got a dozen boats and a total of thirty people now missing off the Californian Coast. That’s in the last few weeks, and just the ones we know about. There could be more still unreported. There’ve been no storms, no tidal surges, no boat hijackers in the area.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And then I see the shape of something that might or might not be a freakin’ nightmare, and I’m betting you guys know more than you’re letting on.” He sprang forward. “Jack, don’t bullshit me, please. Have we got a problem or not?”
Jack sat back, lifted his beer, and sipped. The liquid wet his dry mouth, but was tasteless. Cate continued to stare at the ground, but nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Okay.” Jack put down his beer and clasped his hands in front of him. “This is confidential, okay?”
Vincent shrugged.
Jack sighed. “There was an expedition a few months back – an exploratory excursion to a newly discovered environment buried below the north-western Alaskan coastline.” He looked up at his friend. “It was a body of water – huge, and been locked away for millions of years. It contained life forms, big life forms.”
Jack held up Cate’s picture of the armor-plated fish. “Like this thing; a Placoderm, been extinct for a hundred million years – same amount of time as the coelacanth.”
Vincent took the picture back, and held it next to his image of the shape under the whale. “This is not what I saw. This thing only looks to be about a dozen feet long. What I saw—”
Jack held up his hand. “Let me finish. There were other life forms down there. It was no lake, but a damn subterranean sea. We lost good people. Only Cate, myself, and one other walked out of there.” He sighed, feeling the heaviness in his chest. “We encountered a massive predator; a Megalodon – a Carcharodon Megalodon.” He nodded towards the pictures in Vincent’s hands. “The Placoderms were just its food source. But that thing passing under your whale – it was like that.”
Vincent sat back, just watching Jack for a moment. “And it got out… how?”
Jack shrugged. “Don’t know. The site was sealed, and our reporting was also classified as not for public dissemination under the EPA’s environmental hazards act. Homeland Security has said we’re not supposed to even talk about it anymore. They’ve shut down any reporting of the site, and may do further analysis and exploratory later – when they can work out how to do it safely.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “That body of water underneath the western coast of both Alaska and Canada also stretched many miles out into the Bering Sea.” He looked to Cate, and raised his eyebrows. “Whether it was an earthquake or somehow, someone managed to breach the partitioning sea walls, and broke into it. If that occurred, there might have been some biological transference – the Megalodon could have gotten out. Anything else that came with it, like the Placoderm there, should have been killed instantly by the temperature or pressure differential.”
“Well, no maybe this time, mister. And why the hell is it here… and for that matter, staying here?” Regina’s jaw jutted.
“Makes sense,” Cate said. “This is its home… or was, around fifteen million years ago. Many creatures retain primordial base memories. Sharks are one of evolutions enduring success stories, and can live in all sorts of temperatures. But they prefer to hunt in warm water.” She laughed with little humor. “You might say it’s come home.”
Vincent gritted his teeth, looking from Cate to Jack. “And you’ve been sitting on this for how long?”
“Hey...” Jack held Vincent’s fierce gaze. “We didn’t even know about the shark until about five minutes ago. So don’t come onto my boat pointing fingers, okay?”
“You should have told someone, Jack. Now I got people missing all over, and I’m betting they aren’t going to be turning up any time soon.” Vincent got to his feet. “That’s on you.”
Jack also got to his feet, stepping in close to the Coast Guard officer. Jack was taller and well muscled. But Vincent looked like he was made from iron and teak. Both men stared hard at each other.
“Sit down,” Vincent said, holding his eyes.
Jack’s jaws worked for a moment. “I know what this thing can do, and if I had any idea it was in these waters, I’d be first in line to do something about it. But there’s no proof.”
Vincent snatched up the picture of the Placoderm. “There’s your proof.”
“Calm down.” Cate got in between the two men, and pushed them apart. “This isn’t helping.”
Jack folded his arms. “Vince, you came here for help
. No use trying to beat me up, because that isn’t the way to get it.” He sat down heavily.
Vincent Kelly paced for a moment but then plonked down in his seat. “We need get back out there, and we need to go public – issue a general alert.”
“Go public?” Cate snorted. “You’d have every recreational fisherman on the coast, no, worldwide, out on the water in everything from a destroyer to a dinghy. This is no ordinary shark, and what you need right now, is education. Jack…?”
Jack nodded. “She’s right, Vince. This is a hyper-predator of unprecedented magnitude. It is the biggest, meanest killer that has ever lived on land or sea. If it’s taking boats, it’s learned that’s where the food is. So, a lot more small boats on the water will be nothing more than a smorgasbord.”
Vincent sat forward “We restrict it to boats over fifty feet, sixty… I dunno, a hundred feet.”
“And made of pig iron?” Jack’s eyebrows went up. “An oversized Great White has a bite force of around thirty-eight hundred pounds per square inch. Your picture tells me that this thing is around sixty-five feet, and will have a comparative bite force of up to forty thousand pounds. Let me give you some context: the T-Rex could only bite down at around seven thousand pounds. Unless your fishermen are in a destroyer they’ll just be sailing on out to their deaths. Plus its territory will be hundreds of miles – it could be anywhere along the west coast.”
Cate looked over the side at the still, blue water. “I’m suddenly thinking I’m not going to go for that little sail around the bays after all.”
Jack reached out and grabbed her hand. He rubbed it.
Vincent’s eyes narrowed, as his vision had turned inward. “Fine, then we take the Bertholf out – she’s a National Security Cutter – four hundred and eighteen feet, two by 7.400 kilowatt diesel engines, plus one pumped up 22.000 kilowatt gas turbine engine, that can fire us up to twenty-eight knots.” He smiled grimly. “Plus, she’s got a fifty-seven millimeter deck cannon, and four fifty-cal machine guns – we’ll blow that fucking fish back to hell.”
“Yeah.” Regina turned to bump knuckles with him.
Vincent got to his feet. “Jack, sorry, but you’re gonna need to file another report so I can get this project underway. With your input, we can keep a lid on it for public safety perspectives. But we need the Bertholf on the water.”