“Do you really think we can catch the beast?” Trevor asked, leaning both elbows against the bar.
“Can and will,” Atticus said, leaving no doubt.
“I like that about you, Atticus. You’ve a strong will. And I, for one, don’t doubt your resolve.” Trevor smiled. “But you won’t be doing much of anything if you don’t sleep, right?”
Trevor walked behind the bar, opened a drawer, and took out a bottle. He shook a single blue pill into his hand and offered it to Atticus. “This will knock you out. You’ll wake feeling refreshed. There are no adverse side effects, I assure you.”
Atticus took the pill and downed it dry without question. “Thanks.”
Trevor shrugged, “I own the company that makes them. They’re no cost to me.”
Atticus smiled. He wasn’t thanking him for the money spent on a single pill. He knew that was inconsequential. “Not for the pill,” he said, “for your kindness.”
His words brought a smile to Trevor’s face. “You may be the first person to thank me for that…and my motives are actually quite selfish. I can’t have my Ahab checking out before our first chase, can I?”
Trevor almost seemed nervous about being called kind…or was it that the gesture was so foreign to him that he really didn’t know how to respond? Regardless of his motive, Trevor had been kind to him. Atticus made a note not to forget, even with the alcohol clouding his mind … and the sleeping pill quickly pulling on his eyelids. Atticus slouched. “That sleeping pill is working fast.”
“Right then,” Trevor said. “Off to bed with you.”
Trevor helped Atticus to his room and laid the groggy man in bed. Atticus looked up, his body fully relaxed, the anguish of his life diffused by a drug-induced haze. “Trevor,” he said, as the rich man stole for the exit. “You’re a good friend.”
“We’ll see about that,” Trevor replied before stepping out of the room. “We’ll see…”
Atticus’s eyes closed before the door, and he was blissfully asleep within seconds, unaware that his new “friend” had never left the room.
19
US Coast Guard Cutter—Gulf of Maine
The rising sun cut through the cobwebs in Andrea’s mind. She’d slept fitfully the night before, not because of the swelling seas or rocking boat, but because of the nightmares that wracked her slumbering mind. She’d seen her own version, conjured up by her darkest imaginations, of what had happened to Atticus the day he’d lost his daughter. But with each waking and returning to sleep, the dream steadily changed until she was Atticus, and he was Giona.
Then she watched as a dark form rose from the depths, its teeth impossibly long and sharp, its size without equal. A massive jaw opened and sucked Atticus inside. She could still see his body as he slid, kicking and fighting, down the creature’s throat.
She had wakened with a start, crying. That was at 5:00 a.m. She’d stayed up since, hoping a sunrise would calm her spirit. With the sun on her face and the darkness of night washed away, she felt herself returning to normal—or some semblance thereof. She still had to face Manfred and talk sense into Atticus, but the dreams of the previous night had planted a seed of doubt. She wondered if Atticus would listen to her at all, or the strange request she’d make if he didn’t.
As the sun cleared the horizon and became too bright to look at, she turned around and realized just how soon the confrontation would take place. The massive yacht known as the Titan sat less than a mile away, gleaming in the morning sunlight. It looked like a marine home for a god or a phantom ship from some other time—mysterious and imposing.
“Well, they know we’re here, and they’re not running,” said Reilly as he approached from a staircase that led belowdecks. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“Not with a man like Trevor Manfred,” Andrea replied, glad for the distraction. “He’s so confident in his own power that he could have that ship filled with cocaine and not flinch at our presence.”
Reilly looked surprised. “You think he does?”
Andrea chuckled. Her muscles relaxing a bit. “No. Of course not. Trevor Manfred may be many things, but a drug smuggler he is not. People as rich as he is have plenty of other ways to make more money.”
“Then he’s legit?” Reilly looked confused.
“It’s not Manfred’s wealth or how he’s acquired it that’s been in question. It’s what he does with it. His hobbies, his collections. Much of what we believe is either speculation or based on secondhand information, but there is enough to make his ship an unwelcome sight in most ports.”
“Huh?” Reilly rubbed his face with his hands, waking himself up and clearly not impressed with Manfred or his reputation. “Captain says he’s ready to move when you are. Just give the say-so.”
Andrea met Reilly’s eyes. “Tell him to take us in, but slow and casual. Let’s not spook them. That ship is huge, but I have a feeling it could outrun us if need be.”
Reilly nodded after stifling a yawn. “You got it, Cap.” He headed for the bridge, leaving Andrea alone with the rising sun and her returning doubts. She had to do everything right or she might lose Atticus again. Only this time, he might end up in the gullet of an honest-to-God sea monster.
“They’re crazy,” Remus said as he peered through a pair of binoculars, watching the Coast Guard cutter bearing down on their position. It wasn’t moving fast enough to be perceived as a boarding attempt, but it was by no means a casual visit. “They have no good reason…”
Trevor relaxed in a floating lounge chair at the center of the dragon-shaped pool. The heated water steamed into the cool morning air, masking his features and any trepidation his facial expression might have revealed. “The U.S. Coast Guard is paying us a visit, I presume?”
“We’ve got about ten minutes.”
“And our guest?”
“Still out cold.”
“Good, good. This will be easier without him, and we need him focused on his task. His loyalties to his daughter are without bounds. There is no doubt about that. But as a former Navy man, we can’t discount that he might fall into line with the military when the U.S. government shows up to inspect us. You did well in locating them last night.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It was rather fortunate that our friend had trouble sleeping. Injecting a trained killer with a sleep aid would not have been the wisest course of action.”
“I could’ve done it,” Remus said, his voice filled with confidence.
“Yes, of course you could.” Trevor’s tone was that of a man speaking to a dog. “But he is our guest and our best chance of finding and killing the creature, so I’d prefer to treat him with respect.”
Remus nodded. “Understood.”
“Good, now fetch my towel and prep the loudspeaker. I want to give them a reason to maintain a healthy distance.”
Trevor heaved his small frame from the pool and took the towel extended by Remus. He wrapped himself tightly, his muscles beginning to shiver. “Good God, it’s chilly!”
Remus smiled. One of the most powerful men in the world was also one of the most frail. Trevor headed into a warmer hallway, followed by Remus, who closed the door behind them.
“Did you find anything in his bag?” Remus asked.
Trevor stopped in the hallway and faced Remus. “Nothing that would indicate that he was anything but honestly out for revenge. His weapons are quite formidable though, and it makes me wonder why he’d bring them to use against a sea serpent; but I doubt that Young was thinking much when he prepared for this little jaunt.”
The seriousness in Trevor’s eyes caught him off guard, and he came to an abrupt stop. “I can say this for the man. He is broken. I tell you that I’ve never seen a man in such a sorry state. I doubt if he’ll ever recover. Once we have the beast and his vengeance is complete, I wouldn’t be surprised if the man took his own life. He literally has nothing left to live for.”
“Then you don’t foresee him becoming a problem?�
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“Not at all. I’m beginning to think he might be a worthy asset to have on board.” Trevor smiled at Remus’s furrowed brow. “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men didn’t have Trevor Manfred as a friend.”
“Cute.”
“Not to fear, good Remus. There isn’t a man alive I trust more than you. Your station is secure.” Trevor gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “But if we can shape Dr. Young into a real monster hunter, a man willing to track down…items of interest, well then, he might just be worth keeping around.”
Remus visibly relaxed.
“Come, the Coast Guard is nearly upon us. To arms! To arms!” Trevor was having fun. He lived for such situations. The conflict. The intrigue. The heartbreak. So far, the adventure had been exactly what he’d hoped for. Even a possible run-in with the Coast Guard, raising the stakes, increased his pleasure.
But there was little time to spare. After the Coast Guard was sent packing, Atticus would have to be roused and prepared for his first confrontation with the beast the Titan had been tracking for the past three hours.
Only as the cutter approached Manfred’s ship did Andrea feel intimidated by the vast size of the Titan. The Coast Guard craft was dwarfed by it. As they cut a path around the ship, the sun disappeared behind it. As a child she’d visited New York, and was dizzied as she stared up at the towering skyscrapers. The same feeling struck her now, staring up at a wonder of modern engineering and science, and it left her mouth hanging open.
“You said it.” Reilly said as he noticed her open jaw. “I doubt we could board that thing if we wanted.”
While his presence wasn’t required, Reilly had joined her on deck. He said it was for more moral support, but he was eager to know how she would handle the situation. What he didn’t understand was that the deck of a ship usually wasn’t her place. She spent more time in the air pulling people from the water than anything else. When she’d pursued this matter, turning the training into a mission and boarding the cutter in pursuit of Manfred, she had assumed she would be a bystander in the process.
She’d been wrong.
Her “training exercise” had led them there, and she had chosen to summon the cutter for assistance. The captain, a kind and fair man, requested that since Andrea was so eager to pursue Manfred, she be the one to experience his charms firsthand. Apparently the man had dealt with the rich tycoon before, and neither he nor his crew felt like matching wits with the “little white devil” again. Andrea had reluctantly agreed. She would see it through.
As she stood on the bow of the boat with only Reilly for support, she raised a megaphone to her lips and prepared to begin the conversation. The Titan had been informed of their approach by radio, and she could see a few crewmen and a white-haired man, who she could only assume was Manfred himself, dressed in black, standing on the main deck three decks above where she stood. She could even see the smug smile on his face. But, before a single word left her mouth; a voice as loud as the sound barrier being broken boomed through the air.
“Beautiful sunrise this morning, don’t you think?” The voice rang like that of a British sixteen-year-old, not quite a child, but not yet a man. It held a taunting undercurrent that instantly irritated Andrea.
“Could you turn down your speaker?” Andrea said, her voice, magnified by her megaphone, a mere buzzing of a mosquito in comparison to whatever sound system Trevor utilized.
“What was that, my dear?” Trevor’s voice pounded into her skull. “I couldn’t quite make it out.”
Andrea set her teeth grinding and turned the megaphone volume all the way up. “Could you turn down your speaker?” Andrea paused for a moment and when no reply was forthcoming added, “Now.”
“Why of course, my dear.” There was a pause. “Is that better?” The voice was still unnecessarily loud, but it was bearable and as good as she was likely to get. She knew two things about Manfred already. First, he liked toying with people. The volume wouldn’t have been so loud without his instruction. Second, he wasn’t fond of women in positions of authority. His use of, “my dear,” twice, wasn’t meant to be kind; it was a jab at her gender.
Neither bothered her beyond annoyance. It was just the kind of spoiled behavior she had expected. She often felt that money made people not only reclusive, but also monumentally immature. Money bought freedom, and in most people, no longer being bound by the restrictions of law or society meant a return to the baser qualities of mankind, or in Trevor Manfred’s case, back to puberty.
“Why are you in the Gulf of Maine?” she asked.
“Right to business then? Are you sure you wouldn’t want to pop over for a spot of tea?” She could see Trevor’s face gleaming down at her, his smile ridiculous. She just stared back at him.
“Some other time then? Well, my dear, we are here for sport.”
“Please clarify.”
“Fishing, my dear. What else?”
Andrea knew his response was a load of bull, but there was no way to argue the point. And she had no grounds to assert otherwise. He’d pushed her into a corner. But she had one hand left to play, and not even Reilly knew it was coming.
“May I speak to Dr. Atticus Young, then?” Andrea paused after speaking, watching the smile on Trevor’s face fade slightly. Atticus was on board. “We know he’s on board and would like to consult with him.”
In an instant, Trevor’s smile returned. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t know who you are talking about. No man by that name is on my crew.”
Andrea persisted. “He is not on your crew. He is a guest.”
“My dear, please do not insult me by telling me who is on my ship and who is not.” Trevor’s irritation sounded loud and clear.
Good, Andrea thought. Trevor might keep her from speaking to Atticus, but she was winning the psychological battle. She knew the man was rattled, and without giving him a chance to recover, she motioned to the bridge. It was time to move off.
“Your actions will be monitored as long as you stay off the coast of the United States,” Andrea said, filling her voice with authority, willing it to sound deeper, and more assertive, than Trevor’s. “Please let Dr. Young know the Coast Guard is watching.”
The engines of the cutter roared to life, drowning out the beginning of Trevor’s response. They’d cut the man off. It was her turn to smile.
Reilly turned to her. “That was great, but who is Atticus Young?
Andrea smiled, an image of Atticus entering her mind. “A friend.”
“He’s the real reason we’re here.” It wasn’t a question.
Baffled by the young man’s intuitiveness, Andrea stammered over a few words, searching for an appropriate answer, but then gave up. “Yes.”
“Not to fear, my dear.” Reilly smiled wide. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
She knew he wouldn’t tell a soul, but she’d have to live with every bit of guff Reilly decided to give her. Her only consolation was that Reilly didn’t know the half of it.
20
The Titan—Gulf of Maine
In an instant, Atticus woke and hopped to his feet. Whatever Trevor had given him the night before delivered as promised. He hadn’t felt so rested in years and experienced no residual grogginess. He took in the VIP guest suite around him and sighed. Maria would have loved the place. He had two rooms to himself and an Incan-themed bathroom the likes of which he’d never seen. The bedroom held a forty-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed, a fully stocked minibar, and a superb view of the ocean. The living room held a second TV, also mounted on the wall, a forty-gallon tank filled with exotic fish, and furniture that was not only exquisitely comfortable, but also hand-crafted from what appeared to be single pieces of redwood trees.
If not for the twisting knot of despair and loneliness coiling in his gut, Atticus might have enjoyed himself. He entered the bathroom and shook his head at the décor. The mirror was framed by small skulls—monkeys, Atticus believed.
Below the mirror, a sink carved into the top of a large boulder looked like a natural water basin formed from millennia of erosion. But the showpiece of the bathroom was the shower itself. The walls of the shower enclosure were formed from stones, set together neatly. But on the stonework grew moss and vines—real moss and vines. The shower itself was a waterfall that dropped from the mouth of a large statue of the serpentine Incan god, Quetzalcoatl. Atticus ran his hand along the curves and details of the statue. Cold and heavy, he had no doubt that the showerhead, like everything else on the Titan, was the genuine article.
Atticus turned on the shower, shed his clothes, and let the warm water cascade over his body. He was instantly transported to another world. The moss and vines filled the shower with an earthy odor. The sound of the falling water was accompanied by the chirping of birds and distant monkey calls from a sound system that had been triggered the moment the shower door closed. Atticus felt his mind wander and relax. He appreciated the Titan’s otherworldly feel. And he enjoyed the oddity known as Trevor Manfred. Perhaps, when his quest was complete, he would find some way to remain on board…perhaps.
After finishing his shower, he dressed in casual clothes rather than the military garb he’d brought. He was still serious about his intentions—to kill the beast—but he felt silly for bringing along equipment that would serve no purpose on a sea hunt. Dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a gray T-shirt with navy across the front, he exited his room into a long hallway.
The dim light of the hall revealed three doors on either side. He looked into all of them and each led to another VIP suite. Atticus headed down the hallway, not exactly sure where he was going, but he felt no apprehension about moving about the ship on his own. He passed a door and heard a loud beat from behind it…repetitious…catchy…familiar.
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