“It’s impossible, but I . . . I know exactly what this is,” Amara said, her mind whirling with the realization. She felt herself trembling and took a moment to revel in the sensation. “Guys, this is the find of a lifetime. We’re going to be all over the news.”
“Really? Cool.” Adam looked confused. “Uh . . . so what is it?” His camera panned from Amara’s face to focus once more on the frozen mass of flesh before them.
“It’s something that’s supposed to have died out millions of years ago,” Amara took a deep breath, then reached into Adam’s dissection kit for a pair of latex gloves and a pair of long steel forceps. Leaning forward, she carefully poked around inside the fish’s cavernous mouth, checking its teeth. Satisfied, she looked up. “This is the head of a Xiphactinus audax. Paleontologists call it the “bulldog fish.” It was one of the top predators of the Cretaceous seas, competing for prey with mosasaurs and prehistoric sharks.”
Joe gaped. “You’re saying this thing is a dinosaur?”
“No.” Amara shook her head in awe. She reached forward with a gloved hand and felt the shape of the fish’s mandible, knocking on it with her knuckles. “But it lived during the time of the dinosaurs.”
“Wow, it sure looks big enough,” Joe said.
“It’s absolutely amazing!” Amara looked over at Adam, who had stopped filming and was making adjustments on his camcorder. “Did you gather any data yet?”
“Just the basics. Besides general measurements, the piece we have weighs approximately three hundred and forty pounds. Since I’m not at all familiar with the species in question, I can’t extrapolate further until I have additional data.”
Amara nodded. “I can. Based on the fossil record and comparing it to modern species, the entire fish would have tipped the scales at anywhere from twenty five hundred to three thousand pounds. Length, I’m taking an educated guess at, but I would say somewhere between eighteen and twenty feet.”
Joe whistled. “Holy shit, this thing was twenty feet long?”
Amara pursed her lips. “Or close to it.”
Joe shook his head. “Man, that’s one bad-ass fish.”
Amara scrutinized the specimen a moment longer. Then her eyes narrowed. “Yes, but it looks like we’ve got something a lot more bad-ass swimming around out there.”
“Why do you say that?” Joe asked.
“Look.” Amara pointed to the severed end of the fish’s head. “This fish was somebody’s dinner. The rest of its body was taken off in one bite. You can see the gouged out tooth marks where something bit down on it, shearing right through flesh and bone.”
“Like a shark?” Adam asked.
“No way. Bigger than that. Much bigger. Also, the teeth are conical in shape, not triangular.” Ignoring the freezing temperatures, she removed her coat and leaned down, bending her arm at the elbow. With a quick glance at her two comrades, she inserted the meaty part of her forearm directly into one of the semi-circular tooth marks. It fit. Perfectly.
“Good lord,” Amara muttered, raising her blood-streaked elbow and gawking at it. She could smell the fish’s aroma on her arm, its odor pungent and alien. Her frozen breaths became rapid as she numbly accepted her coat back from Adam.
“Any ideas?” he asked. “A whale, maybe?”
She shook her head.
“So, what do you want to do?”
Amara shivered involuntarily, then shook it off and drew herself erect. “Okay, first thing’s first, guys. This specimen needs to be protected at all costs. I want you to gather any data you can, then I want it sealed and kept frozen.”
“You got it, boss,” Adam said. “Joe, help me with the lid?”
Joe nodded, reaching down and raising the crate’s cover. Handing one end to Adam, they lowered it back in place, sealing the mysterious fish’s head inside its insulated coffin.
“What’s next?” Joe asked.
Amara ground her teeth as she mulled things over. “We prepare material for a press release.”
“What about our mission?”
“The mission goes ahead,” she said as she folded her arms across her chest. “We have too much invested. We’ll present our toothy friend to the world when we get back.”
Adam said, “Hey, if you’re right about this thing, we’ll be famous.”
“Oh, I’m right. But I do have important questions we need answered.”
“Like what?”
“Like where this thing came from and how many more are out there. Who sent this to us?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “Joe, you have the packing slip?”
“Yeah, it’s right here.” Joe reached into his pocket and extracted a folded letter. “It was attached to the outside of the crate.” He handed it to her.
Amara’s eyes scanned the yellow piece of paper. Her eyebrows lowered and her jaw tightened up. “Well, that answers one question.”
“Why, what’s up?” Joe asked.
“Never mind,” Amara said. She tossed the steel forceps to Adam. “You guys get this taken care of and keep it under wraps. I don’t want any of our interns emailing their friends and letting the cat out of the bag.” She turned to leave, muttering irritably under her breath.
Adam wore a concerned look as he stared after her, “What did you say?”
Amara looked back at him. “There’s someone I need to talk to.” Clutching the packing slip tightly in her hand, she made a beeline for her quarters.
Swimming silently just beneath the surface, the blue whale cow rose for a quick breath before continuing on her voyage. At one hundred and nineteen feet in length, the colossal Balaenoptera musculus and her kind were the largest creatures to inhabit the planet. The truest of titans, they dwarfed the biggest terrestrial dinosaurs that ever lived, and exceeded even the prehistoric fish Leedsichthys in both length and mass.
Like Leedsichthys before it, the huge whale was a harmless plankton feeder, gorging herself daily on five tons of krill filtered through baleen plates projecting from her upper jaw. This endless food supply, coupled with the water’s life sustaining embrace, enabled the cetacean to achieve an astounding natural weight of one hundred and ninety tons. Currently, the female was even heavier, weighing closer to two hundred.
She was pregnant, and her calf was almost due. Soon, she would give birth, releasing her twenty-five foot offspring into the surrounding sea. A caring and experienced mother, the gigantic female would provide her rapidly growing infant with over one hundred gallons of fat-rich milk each day, and would continue to care for and protect the helpless calf for the next seven to eight months.
Submerging deeper, the whale moved ponderously along, scanning the surrounding seas with active sonar as she went. Every so often, she emitted a deep rumbling sound, a call so low in pitch it could be felt as well as heard. The reverberating bellow was a long distance call that traveled far underwater, enabling the gentle giant to communicate with others of her kind across distances measuring hundreds of miles.
As she rested some forty miles off the coast of Boca Grande, the colossal female picked up the resounding replies of several of her species, all many miles in the distance. One was from a big male, her current calves’ sire, in fact. The two others were adolescent females, one of whom she gave birth to five years earlier. The cow sighed loudly, the mournful sound resonating through the water.
Once, there had been many of her kind. At one point, they had numbered four hundred thousand strong. That was before the humans and their noisy metal ships had taken their grisly toll. Each year, tens of thousands of the harmless cetaceans were mercilessly slaughtered, their bodies melted down and consumed. After a mere forty years, over ninety-nine percent of the great animals were eradicated. Now a protected species, their numbers were slowly rebounding, with a currently stable population of some ten thousand adults.
Emitting a series of quick clicks and pings, the blue whale’s sonar echolocation brought the surrounding waters to life in vivid detail. Given the accura
cy and efficiency of her sonar, eyesight was more a luxury than a necessity.
As her brain transformed sound waves into images, she sensed all that went on around her. She knew instantly that the cloud-like school of krill she followed would continue on for many miles, assuring her several more days of bountiful feeding before she migrated to the place she would birth her calf. A thousand yards to her left, she detected a pod of bluefin tuna, cruising by at high speed, scattering a school of frightened bluefish as they went. Behind them, a prowling eighteen-foot white shark provided the reason for their impetus.
Oblivious to the nearby predator, the enormous female continued on with a flick of her twenty-five foot flukes. Again, her rumbling vocalizations echoed underwater, informing the other, far-off titans of her impending approach.
The nearby white shark meant nothing. By size alone, the gigantic blue whale had no natural enemies. Not since the prehistoric shark Carcharodon megalodon died off had there been anything that swam the seven seas that would even consider challenging one of the sulfur-bottomed titans.
The creature picked up the sound of the whale’s booming calls from thirty miles away. It ran silently, relying on its incredible sense of smell and the repeated vocalizations of its prey to guide it. Ravenous from the previous night’s exertions, the predator accelerated to its top cruising speed, striving to close the distance between itself and its potential meal.
Closing to within five hundred yards, the creature peered into the gloom, studying the noisy life form. A ring of specialized bones encircling its eyes compressed inward to aid its sight. Unlike the enormous fish and squid it often hunted, it possessed binocular vision and could see superbly underwater, even over extreme distances. Focusing hard, it made out the outline of the unfamiliar animal looming in the distance.
As it moved in for a closer look, the creature became fascinated by the sheer size of the other. For the first time in decades something gave it pause. Not since it reached adulthood, some forty years prior, had it seen a living thing that exceeded it in size.
The creature hesitated. Its instincts for caution in the presence of a larger predator were honed by days spent hiding out from its own kind. Its appetite temporarily suppressed, it became content with running parallel to the whale, observing its movements and probing for weaknesses.
The blue whale was alarmed. She had sensed the unknown creature’s presence as it attempted to approach her from the rear. Whatever was pursuing her now swam a hundred yards off her starboard side, following soundlessly along, matching her speed. Where she went, it went. When she changed direction, the newcomer did too.
A quick scan from the whale’s sonar told her that her mysterious admirer was not another whale. In fact, it wasn’t mammalian at all. It appeared to be some kind of gigantic reptile. Judging from its teeth, it was a predator, and from its half-opened jaws, a hungry one.
Snorting loudly in alarm, the blue whale cow’s next course of action was instinctive and immediate. Fearing for the safety of her unborn calf, the giant female rose to the surface, spouting noisily while taking in a tremendous breath of air. Then she sounded, accelerating with all of her strength as she sought to flee the enormous carnivore that hounded her.
As he climbed back over the paint-chipped gunnels of Deep Trouble, Jake glanced at the antiquated vessel’s well maintained racks of oxygen tanks and gear. He paused, shaking off a sudden chill that radiated through his powerful frame, and took a moment to center himself. He looked down, his expression regretful as he checked his day’s paperwork. Nailing that cocky troublemaker Brad Harcourt with a pile of well deserved fines, as well as a court appearance, had certainly been a pick-me-up, but being onboard dive boats always brought Jake unpleasant memories. He checked the time. It was almost an hour past his shift’s end. He frowned. There was no one waiting for him at home, and as the main source of law and order in Paradise Cove, he didn’t think twice about pulling extra hours. But a sideways glance at Chris told him his youthful deputy was predictably anxious to be out and about his business.
“Thanks, Pete,” he yelled to the boat’s heavyset captain. “I’ve got everything I need for my report. I’ll send you a copy for your insurance company. If I find out anything, I’ll be sure to call.”
“Thanks, Jake,” Pete replied, good-naturedly. He nodded his bearded head and disappeared below deck.
“Let’s get going, kid,” Jake said, grabbing onto a side rail as he climbed deftly aboard. Thirsty from the day’s heat, he reached down into a small cooler, grabbed an ice-cold can of diet cola, and cracked its tab. He savored a long draught from the perspiring can, then glanced over at Chris to see if he wanted one.
“No thanks, chief. I’m good.”
“Suit yourself. Say, it’s getting late and you must be tired. What do you say we call it a day?”
Chris smiled, eagerly cracking his knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”
Nodding, Jake took another sip and inserted the Infidel’s key to turn over the ignition. Instead of starting smoothly, the powerful Yamaha engine made the same screeching noise it had earlier. He cranked it repeatedly, making several attempts before he got the five-year-old outboard to come to life. He gave Chris an annoyed look. “I thought I asked you to have the motor looked over back at the dock?”
“I tried, chief,” Chris explained, “but Sal said he was full up and couldn’t give it a good once-over until tomorrow afternoon. He said to bring her back around three.”
“Wonderful.” Story of my life, Jake mused. Another much-needed repair put on hold. He reached down with his free hand, threw off their mooring lines, and started them moving gently away from the dock. Just then his radio squawked loudly, causing him to spill the remaining half of his soda on himself. He cursed as he grabbed his radio. “This is Sheriff Braddock.”
“Jake, it’s Molly,” his dispatcher radioed back. “I got a very insistent call from Ben Stillman over at Above the Claw. He wants to know if you were able to look into his missing lobster traps yet. Over.”
“Tell him that’s a negative,” Jake said, wiping irritably at his soaked uniform shirt. With an effort, he kept the exasperation out of his voice. “We weren’t able to make it out that far today. Too many local issues, including some boat trouble. Tell him I’ll be out there in the morning and I’ll call him when we come in. Over.”
“Thanks, Jake. Over and out.”
Jake permitted himself a low growl of irritation. There weren’t many people he felt that way about, but he couldn’t stand Ben Stillman. It amazed him how Molly managed to stay so nice when forced to deal with idiots like that. Still annoyed, he removed his soggy shirt and reached into his steering console. He extracted an old Hawaiian shirt he had folded inside and put it on, tails out. Comfortable now, he clipped his badge to his belt, then turned toward Chris, who was already in the process of unloading and storing his sidearm. As Jake watched him, he chuckled. He knew from experience that the kid would have his gear stowed and be back in civilian clothes long before they reached shore.
“Strictly between you and me, Chris,” Jake reached down and adjusted their trim, “I think Ben Stillman’s either a lousy lobster fisherman or the fat bastard’s eating all the profits himself.”
Chris shook his head, laughing. He stopped suddenly, opened his mouth to speak, but then hesitated. His expression grew uncharacteristically serious. “Hey, chief . . . can I ask you something?”
“Sure, kid. What’s up?”
As he watched, Chris’s face contorted as if he tasted something bitter.
“It’s about the girl I’ve been seeing . . .”
Jake nodded. “The new one you were talking about before?” A nightmarish thought popped into his head. Oh God, please don’t tell me she’s pregnant.
Chris took in a breath. “Yeah . . . I mean, we’ve only been going out a few months, and maybe it shouldn’t be an issue yet, since we’re not going steady yet and all . . . but–”
Jake raised a calming hand.
“Take it easy, kid. What’s the problem?”
“I think she’s cheating on me.”
“You think or you know?”
Chris folded his arms across his chest and stared crestfallen at the Infidel’s deck. “Well, a few weeks ago, she asked me if I’d mind if some other guy started paying her bills.”
“Paying her bills? Sheesh. Is this girl a pro?”
“Not that I know of . . .”
“I’m sorry, kid. Keep going.”
“The other night, I saw a text come in on her cell phone while she was in the shower. It was pretty obvious . . .”
Jake slowed their pace to a crawl, the sleek patrol boat easing its way along. He studied his deputy’s wounded expression and measured his next words with care.
“Listen . . .” He cleared his throat. “You can’t blame yourself. It happens. I went through it once. Before I met Samantha I dated someone I was head over heels for. And she put me through hell.”
Chris looked shocked. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Her name was Anita. She was a tall, Amazonian beauty from one of those war-torn eastern European countries. Hair like spun gold and built like a . . . well, never mind.”
“Wow, she sounds like trouble.”
“Oh, she certainly was,” Jake grinned ruefully.
“So . . . what happened?”
Jake’s eyes softened as he allowed himself the memory. “She went back home to renew her visa, came back knocked up with some rich guy’s baby.”
Chris’s face changed color and he nearly choked. “Holy shit! Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, man, Jake. What did you do?”
“What any guy in my position should do, and what you’re going to have to,” he said, giving Chris a stern-but-supportive look. “I walked away. But I did it like a man, with my head held high.”
Chris gnawed his lower lip raw. “Well, mine’s gonna get hers, when I’m done telling her a thing or two . . .”
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 7