by M. N. Arzu
“He’s been asking when we are going to release him,” Higgs said, as the admiral walked to the glass wall, looking at the seemingly empty tank. Nothing but water met their eyes.
“I was under the impression he’s unable to breathe air. Has that changed?”
“Not for the time being, though Drake thinks it will resolve itself in a couple of days, maybe a couple of weeks.”
“Hmm. Is he a close friend of yours, doctor?” the admiral asked, still looking into the pool.
“I think I’m more of a handy ally. They don’t seem to have many medical experts on the ready, and my time with Ray puts me at an advantage.”
Ironically, that was the exact same reason the Navy had asked him to come.
Coleman turned to look at Higgs, sizing him up with calculating green eyes. Nodding once, he reached for a pocket and took a phone out. “Julian Brooks has requested proof that Mr. Drake’s fine. Since he can’t talk on his own, would you like to put Mr. Brooks’s mind at ease?”
* * *
“Admiral Coleman is the man who has Drake,” Aurel said over the computer. Mireya looked tired, and Lavine was ready to say I told you so every two minutes. “They’re being very careful with keeping his location secret, but once you deliver the equipment from one of my subsidiaries, we’ll trace it to him.”
In Drake’s absence, Aurel was the one with the most contacts and the fastest with gathering information.
“Dr. Higgs confirmed what Major White told me earlier: Drake’s unable to shift his lungs back. Even if we had his location, it would be hard to get him out,” Julian said, while Mireya rubbed her eyes. It was 1:30 a.m. in Buenos Aires, two hours ahead of him.
“It took us ten days to find a way to get Christopher out,” Aurel said, the shining sun of a cloudless Tokyo afternoon behind her, “and that was with the element of surprise on our side. The Navy is not going to be unprepared, and this Coleman is no laughing matter. We need to carefully plan our next move, not just because Drake is essentially a prisoner, but because he’s a Council member and they know it. Rank is probably our best card to play in this negotiation. At the very least, we need to buy time to find a safe way of getting him back.”
“I agree,” Mireya said. “Besides, we can’t deny that one of ours attacked them. We need to appear as cooperative as we can while we work on a backup plan to get Drake out.”
“What kind of backup plan?” Lavine asked, frowning. “You just said they won’t let us get Drake out the same way we got Christopher out.”
“That’s why we have to be creative,” Julian said. “While we play along with the Navy, we’ll need to find someone else to work from the shadows. Someone who doesn’t point right back at us. That’s the real problem we need to crack. We need to find an ally that the Navy doesn't see coming.”
* * *
Nathan Forest got out of the taxi and took a deep breath of chilly air. He’d left the Brooks penthouse earlier tonight, and the future had never been brighter—or more uncertain. He needed to call the UN committee and inform them of his progress with the merfolk talks. Like Julian had said, this had been but a mere formality, a brief acknowledgement of their existence and their willingness to talk. But it was official, and that made all the difference in the world.
He entered his apartment building, and hardly paid attention to a man in a suit in the lobby.
“Dr. Forest?” the man asked as he stood up. Nathan stopped and looked at him, trying to place his face and failing.
“Yes?”
“Are you Nathan Forest, from the United Nations?” the man asked in a lower voice as he walked to Nathan.
“Yes,” Nathan said, now getting suspicious. “Who are you?”
“I’m Paul McKenzie,” the man said, reaching for a handshake. “I received a message earlier tonight. A message concerning…merfolk,” McKenzie whispered, almost afraid someone else was behind the walls listening in. “Can we talk in your apartment?”
“Of course,” Nathan said, understanding McKenzie’s apprehension. Both walked in silence to the second floor, and Nathan opened the door. Most of the public didn’t know about Nathan’s involvement with Ray’s rescue and treatment, but if they dug deep enough, they could find he was part of the UN efforts that had formed the special committee on merfolk affairs.
Paul looked around Nathan’s apartment, and sat down along with Nathan in the living room.
“I’m sorry for the time. I’ve been here since 8:00 p.m. hoping you would come back tonight. We didn’t trust using phones, so this was the safest bet.”
“I’m sorry, we?”
Paul reached for his wallet, and extended a black plastic card to him. The word SWIMMER was written in gold lettering.
“I’ve heard about your organization,” Nathan said, taking the card.
“I know most people think we’re nothing but a joke,” the man said, all serious now. “And for the most part, most members are curious, mindless people. However, I am part of the SWIMMER network that actively works to establish a real connection between them and us. I’m also a lawyer here in New York City.” Paul reached for another card. “I’ve been researching the personhood angle and other legal actions merfolk should take to guarantee their rights and fair treatment. I assure you, Dr. Forest, I am not a joke.”
The card read McKenzie & Associates, and the office address meant Paul here was no ambulance chaser.
“All right, Mr. McKenzie. What do the SWIMMERs want with me?”
“Connections, Dr. Forest. You are part of the UN committee which supervises merfolk affairs. I think that’s the way you talk about them, right?” Nathan nodded. “Usually, we would be wary of working with high-ranking officers, especially the ones who might have their own agendas regarding exploiting merfolk.”
“You take a trust no one approach with everyone,” Nathan said.
“Extreme circumstances call for extreme measures. In any other situation, we wouldn’t be approaching you, doctor. But as I told you in the lobby, I received a message earlier. One that directly asked for our help as SWIMMERs and to bring you along as a UN representative. He asked for you by name.”
Nathan frowned. “Bring me along where? What does this message say, exactly?”
Paul took his phone out, and placed it facing Nathan so he could read it on his own. “It’s a message claiming that Ray’s alive.”
27
The Other Side
A hand gently moved Drake, summoning him from a deep sleep. Particularly bad injuries could trigger coma-like states in merfolk, so Drake was thankful all he’d gotten was a deep slumber. Lewis was back in his diving gear and oxygen tank, signing if he was okay.
I must have overslept, Drake thought, as he looked upward to the already shining morning. His body still felt heavy and somewhat sluggish, but he signed to Lewis that he was okay. Sleeping underwater left him a bit disoriented, and his stomachs reminded him how unfulfilling a liquid diet was. Hunger gnawed at him as he made his way upward, while Lewis went to keep working in front of the observation room.
“Morning,” Higgs said, a cup of coffee in hand. “We were getting worried about you.”
Morning, Drake mouthed, looking around for the whiteboard and the marker. They had installed a simple but effective communication system between the observation room and the pool, but not between the pool and the surface.
More problems to fix, Drake absently thought as he spotted both things.
“I was able to talk to Julian last night,” Higgs said, and Drake stopped writing his first question. “Admiral Coleman let me call him to explain your situation. Julian was worried, but also relieved. He wanted you to know he’s keeping the agreement with Major White.”
He’s staying, Drake thought, unsure if he liked that or not. Frowning, he wrote: Coleman?
Higgs handed him a thermos with what passed for breakfast, and nodded. “He’s the one in charge of—well, of you, I guess. He wants to talk to you as soon as the communication i
nterface is fully operational. He doesn’t want any errors in translation, apparently. If I were you Drake”—Higgs lowered his voice—“I wouldn’t underestimate him.”
* * *
Alex had barely set foot in Saavan Academy when Gill practically dragged him to the nearest suitable empty room.
“Something really big is going on,” she said in all seriousness.
Yes, my uncle is being detained, my father has started the UN talks, and we’re willing hostages of the government. He could share none of that. Instead, he barely asked, “What?”
“I don’t know. Dad got a message last night, and he went really quiet. He talked to a few other high-ranking members, and then told me he was working late and to not wait for him. He wasn’t home when I woke up this morning.”
“Maybe a client called?”
She shook her head. “Why would he call other SWIMMERs if it was work related? No. I hacked into his SWIMMER account, and everyone is on high alert. Alex, everyone’s meeting at a hotel tonight here in New York. It’s the first time all gold operatives are going to be there. This is huge.”
“Okay… I’m not sure what you want me to do?”
“I thought you might know why everyone is acting like this. At the very least, you should know the SWIMMERs are on the move.”
He’d never told her Drake had gone missing. He hadn’t told her because Julian would ground him for life, yes, but also because Scott’s words had resonated since lunch on Wednesday. Was she doing this because of who he was or because of what he was? But seeing her now, worried sick, drove home that it didn’t matter, really. Gill McKenzie was risking an awful lot because she believed it was the right thing to do.
I hope you’re as concerned as Gill about representing the merfolk side of this partnership, Julian’s words echoed in his mind. And his side didn’t only include protecting merfolk secrets. It also included protecting Gill’s life from merfolk affairs. It meant keeping her out of his life as much as he could.
“I don’t know, Gill,” he said, shrugging. “I can’t tell you what’s happening on my side, I really can’t, but I don’t see how the SWIMMERs could get involved with it. Unless they’re working against the Navy, there’s nothing connecting your huge news to my huge problems.”
“The Navy?” she asked, worried. Shutting her eyes for a moment, she added, “Okay…I might be able to attend the meeting. If you need something from us, now’s the time to ask for it.”
“I—I can’t. I can’t talk about this.”
She looked at him, straight to his soul, and frowned. “Alex, is your life in danger?”
He didn’t say a word, but she knew the answer was yes. Nodding to herself, she took a deep breath. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you. Even if you can’t tell me what’s going on.” She turned to leave, but Alex stopped her.
“Gill. You can’t go against the Navy.”
“Why not?”
“My father and others are working on this problem. If you show up, you’ll get in the way. I know you don’t want to hear this, but we are teens, and if right this moment a SWAT team entered this room, we would be powerless to stop them. I’m going against forces that are way bigger than I am, and I don’t want you being dragged into this. You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever known, but you have to stop.”
“Stop what? Trying to save your life?”
“Yes. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve fearing for me at every turn or putting your relationship with your dad in jeopardy. I’m not worth your life.”
Gill stared at him, something changing in her eyes, solidifying somehow. For one glorious moment, he truly thought he’d steered Gill out of harm’s way.
“Huh. Well, you know what you’ve just said about how you can’t tell me what’s going on? Well, you also can’t tell me what to do. With or without you, I’m going to help merfolk.”
Two seconds later, Alex was alone in the room.
* * *
Major White stared at his computer, trying to understand what he was seeing—and what he wasn’t seeing. Fifteen minutes ago, Admiral Woodland’s secretary had finally forwarded him the video of the possible merman in Brazil. It was taken from a bar in front of the beach, where several people had been ordering drinks.
The man who was frozen on White’s screen had been in the middle of ordering two caipirinhas, and by the looks of it, these weren’t his first drinks of the night. A party could be seen going on in the background, people dancing and shouting and generally getting drunk.
The problem with this picture was that the man on the screen couldn’t have been there.
What the hell is Matthew Brooks doing on a beach in Brazil?
It took White the better part of two minutes to realize that this was an older version of Matthew, with a more matured body in a decidedly more matured setting than the young Brooks would be allowed. White still checked the logs, and sure enough, Matthew Brooks had been seen going to school on the date the video had been taken.
My God, what do they do? Clone themselves? That would certainly explain the lack of mermaids all around.
It didn’t matter. The only relevant answer right now was that yes, this man was a merman. The first identified by thermal scanning. The Brazil incident might just be a blip on the radar compared to merfolk activity in New York, but it proved they could be traced.
It was one step further in getting merfolk under control.
* * *
Nathan closed the door of his apartment, and exhaled. Paul McKenzie had just left after a marathon ten-hour session regarding merfolk, law, and the United Nations. They had worked through the night and most of the morning, so a shower and a shave were in order.
The UN committee had suspected that the SWIMMERs were well-meaning and well-organized people, but they had had no idea how deeply embedded they were, not to mention how dedicated they took the notion of protecting merfolk and welcoming them to the human world.
If he’d been excited yesterday about the UN talks taking their first baby steps, he was far more concerned about the news that someone had sent a message on Ray’s behalf. The SWIMMERs made it clear they would take action soon, and McKenzie had explored with him how the UN might be of help, either by aiding them or by staying out of the way.
Nathan had not revealed how closely he knew merfolk, but McKenzie was not stupid. He might not know the circumstances or the relationships, but he suspected that if Ray had asked for him by name, the UN must be doing something right. On the other hand, McKenzie was more than willing to break a few laws if that meant rescuing Ray, in which case the UN would deny any knowledge of the matter.
That was plan B. What McKenzie had really been discussing with Nathan was how to use public opinion in Ray’s favor. And for that, the UN could use all its power and influence.
Now it was Nathan’s turn to be smart. He needed to call the committee and plan a course of action. His first instinct was to call Diana, but then he remembered she was out of reach. His second thought was to contact Julian. He needed to tell him that someone was aiding Drake from the inside.
* * *
Andrew had barely arrived home from his therapy session with Chris when the doorbell rang. He stopped chopping the vegetables for an energy shake, and opened the door with no idea of who it could be.
For a moment, he stared at the man, the word Matt stuck in his throat. “Matt—Matthew?” He blinked, and the man smirked. “I mean, Matthew’s brother, right?”
“Adrian, yes,” he said, raising a curious eyebrow. “News travel fast.”
You have no idea. “Come in, please.”
“Thank you.”
Adrian walked in, and Andrew’s trained eyes didn’t miss the way he tried to hide a limp. “Chris said you looked a lot like Matthew, but you could be his twin brother.”
“His evil twin brother, I’m sure,” Adrian said, taking a look at his apartment. It was an open-space design, with practically only the bathroom out of view. “You
were cooking?”
“Just doing some shakes. Would you like something to drink? I still have some of that shake your brother loves so much.”
“That would be perfect. Anything to help me get to know Matthew.”
“Must be strange. To suddenly know you have family out there in the world,” Andrew said, getting the Brookses’ favorite green shake out of the fridge.
“Probably as strange as knowing mermaids exist,” Adrian said, making Andrew smile. “I wasn’t sure if I should come here, actually,” Adrian continued, serious. “I had this accident on Wednesday, and the pain keeps getting worse.”
“With your legs and lower back?”
“You noticed,” Adrian said, frowning.
“It’s kind of my job. Would you like me to take a look right now?”
Ten minutes later, Adrian lay on a mat, wearing one of Chris’s therapy robes while Andrew took a careful look at the muscles in the back. Dozens of fine scars crisscrossed Adrian’s back, speaking of a life much different than that of the Brookses.
“Coral reefs can be dangerous,” Adrian said when Andrew mentioned them. “I do a lot of salvaging and underwater cave systems mapping, so my back usually gets the worst of it.”
“Interesting job for a merman,” Adrian said, pressing the muscles alongside the spine. “You’re quite tense.”
“Meeting Matthew hasn’t exactly been stress free and—” Adrian cursed as Andrew pressed on the lower back.
“Sorry. You have a pretty bad injury on the lower discs here,” Andrew said, taking a closer look at a recent scar. Merfolk skin didn’t scar easily, but Andrew was used to looking at Chris’s twin white scars on his legs. This was not so different, just smaller and straight. “I’m guessing you injured yourself a few weeks back, and this accident just aggravated the older wound.”