Jake felt his eyebrows reach his hairline. “Oh really, doc? And what makes your pliosaur so valuable? Wouldn’t it be easier to study once it’s on ice?”
“Actually, I’m thinking of it more as a display specimen than a lab one,” she replied.
He sucked in a sharp breath, but before he could retort. Amara raised her hands in a soothing manner.
“Now hold on and think for just one minute, Jake Braddock. Barring federal aid, there’s no way Paradise Cove can afford to reimburse the victims’ families, let alone revive its demolished economy.”
Jake bit his tongue. Since its expensive recovery from the last hurricane, the marina was just starting to turn a profit. The maintenance alone made it more trouble than it was worth. Dean Harcourt would be the only one sitting pretty when he collected on the cove’s hefty insurance policy, leaving all its businesses to rot.
Amara continued. “The creature would draw tourists from all over the world. People would pay any price to see a living dinosaur.”
“You mean ‘marine reptile’ . . .” Jake said sarcastically.
“Whatever, Jake.” Amara rolled her eyes as she turned toward the drafting table behind her. She tilted her head to one side, gathering her long hair with both hands as she tied it back. “We’ve got a plan to capture it.”
“Capture it how?”
She turned back with a wicked-looking, black and silver firearm in hand. It had a knobby contraption fixed to its barrel. “This is a Sea Wolf pneumatic speargun, loaded with a satellite transmitter. One hit and we can track the creature anywhere in the world.”
Jake put his coffee mug down to take the weapon from her. He looked it over without enthusiasm and handed it back.
“Then what?”
“Then, we have to snare it.” Amara flipped quickly through a pile of papers. She reached for her own coffee, pausing as she took a long draught. “To do that, we’ve hired the Forsaken and the Nefarious, a pair of trawlers out of Key West.”
“And who’s going to be in command of these trawlers?”
“Willie and I.”
Jake rubbed one temple with his fingertips and shook his head. He could see where this was going.
“Look, even with you tracking it, there’s no way a fleet of trawlers could catch that thing. It’ll see them coming and either take off or rip them out from under you, depending on how foul its mood is.”
“That’s why, after we’ve tagged it, we’re going to replace the transmitter dart with this.” Amara held up a second projectile with a metallic cylinder situated directly beneath its barbed steel point. She grasped the four-inch-long aluminum tube in both hands and plucked it apart with a loud, sucking noise. One half contained a glass tube, filled with a viscous golden liquid.
Jake pursed his lips. “I guess it’s too much to hope that’s poison you’re holding.”
Amara scowled. “It’s Cetaprol-50, a whale tranquilizer. We use it to sedate stranded cetaceans – especially the bigger ones. It makes it easier and safer for us to float them out to sea during rescue attempts.”
“So you track it and hit it with some whale dope. Great . . . assuming it even works, then what?”
“Here’s the kicker.” Amara nodded to Joe Calabrese. “If you don’t mind?”
“Sure thing, boss,” the retired ironworker replied. He gestured at a series of rough schematics sketched out on the table’s glass top. “These lines represent the seafloor in and around Paradise Cove. We’ve marked off the listed depths. And this rectangular shape here represents your old railway pier.”
“Go on,” Jake drawled.
“The pier’s reinforced steel and concrete was the only thing able to withstand the pliosaur’s attack. We’ll use it as our mainstay. My contractor contacts can construct what we need with no problem.”
“You’re plan is to build a–”
“A wall,” Joe finished for him.
“A wall?” Jake scoffed. “You mean like in ‘King Kong?’ Because, as I recall, that one worked great . . .”
Joe sighed. “Actually, it will be more of a fence: a mesh-like enclosure curving out and around from the end of the pier, until it blocks off that entire section of the cove.”
“That’s impossible. There’s nothing to anchor it to.”
“There will be,” Joe emphasized. “The pier doesn’t need strengthening. But this curved section will require reinforced, steel-cored pilings driven deeply into the seafloor, every seventy-five feet or so. Once completed, we’ll have an area of water measuring roughly five hundred feet square and a hundred feet deep. Compared to the whole ocean it’s no playground, but it’ll keep the lizard alive, at least until we effect construction of a more permanent enclosure.”
“There’s not a net in the world that can withstand that thing’s teeth. It’ll bite right through your fence,” Jake said. “And escape.”
“Not if it’s made out of this.” Joe tossed him a spool of silver-colored fishing line. “It’s the latest in braided line technology. Synthetic super-fibers laced with pure titanium. It’s already used in tuna farms here in the U.S..”
Jake pulled two feet of the flimsy-looking cord off the spool, wrapped it around his hand several times, and grunted as he tried to break it.
Joe looked on with satisfaction. “That stuff’s only a millimeter thick, but it has a tensile strength of a thousand pounds. It’s flexible enough that the creature’s jaws can’t tear it, and it’s immune to the corrosive effects of seawater.” He flipped open a notepad, scanning its pages. “In terms of a timeframe, I’ve got a rough construction timetable. We can–”
Jake wrapped the braided line back around its spool and tossed it back.
“Okay, I’ve heard enough.”
Amara stared at him confusedly. “What?”
Jake shook his head. “Your plan is nothing more than a Sea Crusade pipe dream. Chasing down a creature that fast with trawlers it could run circles around, using drugs that probably won’t even affect it, and penning it in an imaginary cage that it could jump right out of? Please . . . none of this will work, and even if it could, I’ll be damned if I’m going to stand by and let you try.”
“What are you saying?”
Jake folded his arms, his changing expression a violently shaken cocktail of anger and fierce determination. “That damned thing slaughtered people – my people! It’s a public menace, and it’s got to be destroyed. I’m making sure of it.”
Amara’s eyes peeled open wide. “You’re going to try to stop us from capturing it?”
“Absolutely.”
“But . . . I don’t understand. I know we can pull this off. Why would you do that? We didn’t even try!”
“Because it has to be done. You just can’t see it.”
“You have no right!”
Jake’s nasal exhale was an ugly little chuckle. “You’re wrong. I have every right. I’m the authority in these parts, and it’s my duty to safeguard the public. From what I see, your ‘plan’ involves risk to everyone onboard this ship. I can’t just stand by and let that happen.”
“We’re used to risks.”
“You’re not used to this, doc. Enough people have died. I’m not going to watch you and your crew be added to the list.”
“I can take care of myself and my crew.”
Jake shook his head. “I’ve heard that before.”
Amara blinked, her expression softening. “Jake . . . I’m not going to die on you. Just trust me. I can do this.”
“Forget it.”
“I don’t understand why you won’t even give me a chance. I can make this right, and you can help. We can remove a danger to the public and do some good at the same time. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”
“Maybe because I don’t spend my days sheltered on some ship. I live in the real world, doc.” Jake’s eyes hardened and his jaw tensed. “You should try it sometime.”
“So, that’s it, then?”
“Yep. That’s it.”<
br />
Amara’s wounded expression disappeared and was replaced by a guarded and distasteful one. She interlaced her arms and stared at the floor, shaking her head. “My God, Jake. I can’t believe you’re doing it.”
“Doing what? My job?”
“No, using your authority to hamstring our efforts, just so you can take revenge on an unsuspecting animal.”
Jake’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? Have you forgotten everything that’s happened over the last few days?”
Amara’s lips quivered as they curled back from her teeth. She tensed, her body contracting like a compressed spring. She gave a calculating glance at Willie and Joe, then wheeled on Jake. Her eyes were ice-coated harpoons, poised to strike. “We’ve forgotten nothing. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised by what?”
She looked him coldly up and down. “By you. I didn’t expect you to take advantage of an opportunity like this, just so you can be a hero again.”
Jake felt the room’s temperature drop and an uncomfortable feeling settled over him. He gave Amara a hard look. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you want to kill the pliosaur because you believe it will give some meaning to your pitiful existence.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Is my existence so pitiful?”
Amara’s eyes were snowy slits. “Absolutely. You curled up like a snail in its shell after your wife died, then slunk off to Paradise Cove to hide. You threw away your career, and unless I’ve missed my guess, you’ve been an alcoholic ever since.”
Jake’s features hardened. “I haven’t had a drink in years.”
“I doubt that. You probably lie awake every night, wallowing in regret. You hate yourself because you’re not center stage anymore. The limelight has passed you by, and all you do is hand out summonses all day. Very impressive.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, coming down on me,” Jake growled. His tone caused Willie and Joe to exchange nervous glances. “You want to try picking on my life? You’ve got no kids, no man, and from what I’ve seen, hardly any friends. At least I have people to care about. You’ve got nothing.”
“I don’t need a man, you vindictive bastard. I’ve got my work.”
Jake sneered sarcastically. “Oh yes, of course, your work . . . how could I forget? Tell me something, doc – do those precious whales of yours keep you warm in bed? Do they wake you up every morning, cook you breakfast, and tell you how much they love you? Do they shower you with kisses every night? I don’t think so.”
Amara’s face twisted up with untold fury. “You don’t have that either, loser!”
“Loser, eh?” Jake shook his head and backed away, a sardonic grin on his face. “God help you, doc, if you ever end up with the loser I could’ve been.”
He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, yanking the heavy metal door shut.
Behind him, the observation room shivered once more with the foghorn bellow of the distant super-predator.
Jake stormed along the corridor leading back to his quarters, his fists clenched and face on fire. As he rounded a corner, he collided hard with Christian Ho. The young intern uttered a grunt of pain and staggered three steps back from the impact. He opened his mouth to apologize, then took another step as he spotted Jake’s infuriated expression. His apology came out as a strangled bleat of alarm, and he bolted for the nearest stairwell.
Ignoring him, Jake yanked open the door to his cabin and slammed it shut behind him. Exasperation and cold fury waged an agonizing tug of war through the center of his chest, the tightening feeling increasing until he wanted to scream. He couldn’t believe how Amara had belittled and embarrassed him. He deeply regretted having opened up to her. He’d unwittingly given her a guided tour of all the chinks in his armor.
Jake squeezed his way inside his tiny washroom and stood in front of its painted metal sink. He flipped on the tap and hunched over, cupping his hands under the spigot and splashing handfuls of water over his face and throat in a futile attempt to cool off. He gasped. The ship’s water was surprisingly cold and had a bitter, coppery aftertaste.
He rested his hands wearily on the edge of the sink, his arms locked straight, his head down. He stayed there, brooding. The sudden familiarity of the scene caused his mind to wander back. His head snapped up, and as he saw his reflection he shivered. It was two years ago, the night he–
It was 1 a.m. on a Friday night, in the middle of August. He was stumbling for the hundredth time out of the Cove Hove, bleary eyed and blind drunk. He had a buxom blonde clinging to him, her hip pressed so tightly to his that, from a distance, they could have been mistaken for Siamese twins.
Her name was Suzy. At least, he thought it was.
“So c’mon, sheriff,” Suzy slurred. Her inviting eyes and shiny lips painted pagan promises. “You’re in no shape to drive. How’s about I give you a ride?”
Jake shook his head, as much to stop the surrounding wharf from spinning as to decline the invitation. The girl was well endowed and obviously horny, but he just wasn’t interested. Still, drunk as he was, he was coherent enough to remember he didn’t have a car – although fierce male pride kept him from admitting it.
“Okay, fine . . . but no funny business.”
“Of course not . . .” The girl smiled sinfully. She took her index finger and made an exaggerated ‘X’ across the exposed portion of her honeydew-sized breasts. “Cross my heart.”
Jake sighed and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, a daunting task as they wound their way toward the girl’s silver Corolla with her belting out an adulterated version of “I Shot the Sheriff.” He attempted to see her to her driver’s side door, an act she found overtly comical. She started giggling, then stumbled and fell as one of her stiletto heels disappeared through a sewer grate beneath her. Jake’s inebriated attempt at supporting her ended with both of them in a heap, the girl’s previous chortling upgrading to hysterical laughter as he failed repeatedly to help her back to her feet.
A few minutes and a few Hail Marys later, Susie pulled up in front of Jake’s rented bungalow. He dragged himself out and stood there, sucking in the moist night air in an attempt to clear his vision and his head.
“C’mon, big boy, I’ll see you to your door,” she chuckled, leaning heavily on him.
As Jake made his way toward the door the girl once again welded herself to his side, her body heat radiating through her skin-tight mini-skirt.
“Here, let me help you,” Susie said as he dropped his keys.
She bent down, her long, golden hair a burnished cascade as she lowered her head. She looked coquettishly up at him as she grabbed his key ring, then accidentally rubbed her cheek against the crotch portion of his pants as she writhed her way to her feet.
“There you go, now stick it in,” she breathed heavily into his ear, clamping both her thighs around his leg like the coils of a hungry python, as he fumbled with the key once more.
She was all over him the moment the door closed. Jake felt her fingernails digging painfully into his chest and back, her hot tongue probing its way into his startled mouth.
“Now . . . hold on a sec,” he stammered, his head swimming from all the beer. His eyes went wide as the girl yanked off his loafers. Next thing he knew, she was clawing at the front of his khakis. He reached down, trying to wrestle her hands loose, and was surprised by how strong she was. “I told you earlier . . . I’m not looking for anything. I was recently wid–”
The girl uttered a throaty growl and released the top of his pants. She grabbed at his belt with both hands, heaving back on it with everything she had, as if to tear the leather and underlying fabric in one fell swoop. “Oh, please. I’m not buying that ‘I’m in mourning’ bullshit. You’ve gotta be itchin for a fuck, especially after a whole year of doing nothing but spanking it.” Annoyed with Jake’s continued attempts at fending her off, she sprang upright and grabbed the front of his shirt. S
he pulled hard, ripping the buttons off as she attempted to bully him toward the bedroom.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle!”
Jake sensed himself being manhandled. He felt annoyance force its way through the beer-induced fog obscuring his brain, stomping out the tiny flame of desire that yearned for a foothold. As gently as he could, he grabbed Suzy by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length.
“Sue . . . I’m going to bed, and you’re going home.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What are you, some kind of faggot?”
Jake shook his head. “Just go home.”
The girl’s eyes went wide and her bird-like features contracted, giving her a cold, harpy-like appearance. She took a step forward and gave him a hard shove to the chest. “Like hell I am, asshole. I left a perfectly good scene to come here.”
He turned his back on her. “Just get out.”
Suzy’s growl of frustration was more like a scream. She hauled back and punched him hard on the back of the head, then pounced on him like a cat, slapping and scratching and tearing away a large section of what remained of his shirt.
Jake staggered a step under the surprising assault, disbelief and anger welling up within him. He whirled back around, hands raised. “Jesus, lady! What the hell’s your prob–”
The slap was an off-balance backhand that clipped the girl’s face. Even so, the impact lifted her off her feet and sent her sprawling to the floor.
“Oh my God, you fucking bastard!” She cupped her hands to her mouth and nose. They came away bloody. “Look what you did!”
Jake’s jaw dropped to his chest and his eyes grew to twice their normal size. He took a tentative step forward, his lips quivering as he tried to speak.
“Get away from me, you son of a bitch!”
More punch-drunk than intoxicated now, Jake swayed from side to side, his woozy eyes following the girl as she stumbled to her feet and bolted from the bungalow. Still cursing at him through the Corolla’s open window, she roared off, her wheels burning rubber.
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 37