It always amused Stitches that organizations like the Worldwide Cetacean Society would purchase a dilapidated vessel like the Harbinger, refit her from bow to stern, and end up spending more money on the science equipment they crammed inside her rusty hull than the entire ship was worth. Perhaps, in their sheltered circles, it was possible their one-sided expenditures actually made sense.
Not this time, though. If Stitches was given the choice, he could name a dozen other ships he’d rather be hunting their rogue pliosaur on. And every one was bigger, better armed, and far faster than the forty-five-year-old whaler whose riveted belly he currently sat in.
God, the damn thing’s hull plates aren’t even welded . . .
He sighed and leaned back, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing his eyes against the harsh glare emanating from the main sonar screen. There was a bright green flash. He blinked spasmodically and did a double-take.
“What the hell?”
In an instant, Stitches was rigidly upright, giving the black-backed monitor his undivided attention. With all the interference, it was hard to tell if something organic was in the area or not. The vast kelp forests bordering Ophion’s Deep were constantly shedding huge strands, many measuring a hundred feet or more in length. Swirling in the current, the giant sections of seaweed were a sonar operator’s worst nightmare. They spiraled about, radiating false echoes, and duping even the most experienced technician into believing a sea serpent of epic proportions was bearing down on them.
After several minutes, Stitches lost interest. Whatever disturbance he thought he’d seen had vanished. Either that or it was concealed behind the vast swarm of debris that was clogging not only his sonar, but also his hull cameras. He leaned back again and considered sneaking a fat joint out of his pack of cigarettes.
Karl will never know . . .
Suddenly, he saw it again. This time, it was a definitive contact – and a damned big one. It was moving in their direction at high speed. Then, just as he reached for his radio, it disappeared again.
Frustrated, Stitches scratched at his goatee. He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his teeth to relieve some of his pent-up frustration. He started to reach for the volume control of the Harbinger’s ultra-sensitive hydrophone system. An unpleasant possibility dawned on him and his eyes narrowed. He hesitated, tapping his fingers on the desk in front of him before he gave into his instincts and twisted the volume knob to max.
“Holy shit!”
With trembling fingers, Stitches fumbled for his radio. His astonished eyes were like ostrich eggs, locked onto the shimmering black and green sonar panel before him.
Up on the Harbinger’s aft deck, Von Freiling and his co-pilot were finishing their final systems check of Eurypterid I. The big adventurer tapped a few keys and then cursed under his breath. He was aggravated by the local sheriff’s meddling and pondering what he was going to do about it.
Perhaps that tiny Zodiac we’re dragging – might be worth consideration. We don’t need it. We could just throw Braddock’s ass on it, give him a bottle of water and send him on his merry way. Maybe we’ll give him a compass.
Von Freiling clamped his jaws together, his brow furrowing up like newly planted rows of corn.
We’d have to waste time draining most of the dinghy’s gasoline first. Leave him with just enough to make it back to shore.
He thought it over and fought down an evil smirk.
Shit, if bleeding-heart Amara wasn’t there, along with that pseudo-intellectual friend of hers, it’d be simpler to just toss him over the side and be done with him.
He chuckled to himself. Harcourt certainly wouldn’t mind. He’d probably give them a nice, juicy bonus for doing it.
Von Freiling smiled, considering the idea for real.
Hell, his thrashing as he fights to stay afloat might even bring the pliosaur to our door . . .
“Karl! This is Stitches, come in!”
Von Freiling shook off his ponderings. He reached for his walkie-talkie. “Karl here, what’s wrong?”
“We’ve got company, boss!”
“Are you sure? Do you have it on the screen?” Excitement laced the big-game hunter’s deep voice.
“Not yet, but there’s definitely something out there!”
“How do you know, Stitches?”
“Because something just scanned us with active sonar, that’s how!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.”
Von Freiling frowned. “Stitches, are you sure you know what the hell you’re looking at?”
“Say what? I used to do this for a living, remember?” the irate sonar tech replied. “But if you don’t believe me, listen to this!”
There was a moment’s silence as Stitches held his radio next to the hydrophone’s speaker.
A low grating sound emanated out of Von Freiling’s walkie-talkie. A bemused expression on his face, the merc’s leader exchanged glances with Barnes. He focused his sights on Amara and Willie, who were lollygagging by the portside railing.
“Okay Stitches, you’ve convinced me,” Von Freiling growled. His alloyed eyes turned hard and calculating. “Keep watch for a definitive reading, and call me as soon as it shows up. I’ll alert the men.”
With his anvil-like jaw set, Von Freiling stalked straight towards Amara, the equally menacing form of Barnes shadowing him.
Five hundred yards away, the pliosaur surfaced for air. Filling its huge lungs, it submerged. It ran silently, leveling off at two hundred feet, and propelled itself forward in a wide, sweeping arc. Caught in its path, a school of squid scattered in shimmering terror.
Totally fixated on the bloody scent trail, it approached the anchored vessel from its port side. The excitement of the hunt started to build within it. Its jaws slowly opened and closed, and its monstrous heart beat faster and faster as it approached its target.
Just then, the creature spotted something suspended below the ship that its sensory field described from a thousand feet away as meat –fresh, bleeding meat – and in sufficient quantity to take the edge off its growing hunger.
Jake lounged against a nearby railing, enjoying a cool breeze as he listened in on Amara and Willie’s discussion regarding Johnson, Dean Harcourt’s hulking bodyguard.
“He has no tongue?” Amara stared with horrified eyes. “Are you sure, Willie?”
“Dat’s what Stitches told me,” the tall Jamaican said quietly. “He said da poor mon was taken prisoner during da war in Afghanistan. He was tortured and wouldn’t talk, so dey cut out his tongue.”
Jake cleared his throat. “That explains why he’s so quiet.”
“Dere’s more.” Willie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Before his unit found him, he lost it. He broke free and turned da tables on his captors. Killed dem all wit his bare hands.”
“Impressive feat, for an albino.” Jake appraised the towering merc, then turned to Amara. “Aren’t they supposed to be weak?”
She gave a tight head shake. “He’s not an albino.”
Jake blinked. “He’s not?”
“No, he’s leucistic.”
“Leucistic?”
“Yes, Jake. Haven’t you seen his eyes? They’re blue, not pink. He’s not pigment deprived; he’s a genetic mutation, like a white tiger. That means he’s as strong as anyone else his size. Maybe stronger . . .”
“Interesting . . .” Jake said.
Willie glanced nervously around. “Wait, I didn’t tell ya da best part. By da time da cavalry finally arrived, he’d gone totally Section 8. Dey found him playing some sick game of soccer wit dee insurgent’s bodies . . .”
“How sick?”
“He was using dere heads as balls – kicking dem for goals.”
“Imagine that . . .” Jake whistled softly. “Well, I must say, doc, your husband certainly surrounds himself with some interesting types.” His head cocked to one side as he spotted Von Freiling and Barnes approaching. “Speaking of which
. . .”
“A word with you,” Von Freiling said, storming up to them.
Jake’s muscles tensed involuntarily. There was trouble brewing. From Von Freiling’s body posture and the timbre of his voice, the eccentric adventurer was on the verge of exploding. Strangely enough, his anger wasn’t directed at Jake, or even Willie. He was after Amara.
“Yes, Karl?” she asked. She looked confused and scared.
“You know, you were so helpful earlier during our meeting downstairs,” Von Freiling remarked snidely. “You know . . . offering to let us use your fancy spear gun and all. But I think you may have left a little something out, darling.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you do. This pliosaur of yours . . . does it have echolocation?”
“Does it have . . . what?” Her mouth open and eyes wide, Amara stalled unconvincingly.
“I said, does it have echolocation?” Von Freiling bristled, his glittering eyes growing fierce as he moved closer. “You see, we’ve just been scanned by active sonar. So unless there’s a military submarine following us around, I’d say this creature of yours is an accomplished echolocator!”
“And what makes ya tink we’d know dat, mon?” Willie asked.
“You know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m asking the wrong person,” Von Freiling warned, his eyes locking onto Amara’s first mate’s. “After all, you’re the sonar operator of this ship, aren’t you, mon? So, if anyone should know the answer to my question, it would be you . . . right?”
Jake uncrossed his arms to draw attention to himself. “You know, Karl, I don’t know much about sonar, but I don’t see why you’re getting so worked up. Even if someone onboard did know the answer to your question, what possible difference would it make?”
Von Freiling wheeled on him, his eyes as hard as the metal they resembled. “First off, Braddock, you should learn to mind your damn business. But since you asked, it makes a big fucking difference. You see, if this creature does use active sonar, then it also has a distinctive sonar signature we could use to track it. Something my beloved wife is apparently not in favor of us doing. And if it is a true echolocator, then it will have a significant advantage over us in the water. It’ll see us coming from far off, and have time to react before we get anywhere near it. It could mean life or death!”
“I’m sorry Karl, but I don’t know anything about this,” Amara said. She swallowed hard. “This animal is almost as new to me as it is to you.”
“We’ll see.” Von Freiling’s thick finger was like a spear pointed at her nose. “I hope you’re telling me the truth. Because if I find out you’ve been interfering with my operation, Amara, I–”
With a horrendous groan, the Harbinger lurched savagely to port. Caught off guard, everyone present was thrown hard to the deck and left scrambling for a handhold. All around them, loose tools and pieces of equipment shifted, slamming haphazardly into people and objects. Desperately clutching Willie and Amara to keep them from falling overboard, Jake caught a glimpse of Senator Harcourt and his escort clinging tightly to a section of railing adjacent to the bridge.
Jake watched through disbelieving eyes as the section of reinforced railing that held the mercenaries bloody bait in place began to buckle. The air was pierced by the sound of rupturing steel as the heavy metal barrier parted, the four-inch-thick cable shearing through it with a series of vibrations that shook the entire ship. Like a knife slicing through cheese, the nylon docking line continuing on, rail by rail, until it struck the solid metal decking of the ship. The powerful pull continued, with the portside dropping and the starboard rising, until several feet of the Harbinger’s belly was visible.
As he struggled to rise, Jake shook his head in disbelief. It’s impossible, nothing can be that strong! Seeing the straining rope disappearing into the approaching waves quickly convinced him otherwise. It was simply a matter of time before the behemoth capsized the ship, turning them all into pliosaur puree. Lurching unsteadily to his feet, he half-staggered and half-crawled to where a gaping Karl Von Freiling fought to stand.
“It’s the monster!” Jake bellowed at the bewildered adventurer, struggling to be heard over the cries of the astonished crew and the clattering sounds of falling machinery. “We’ve got to cut the cable! If we don’t–”
His words were cut short as the rope parted. Snapping in two beneath the surface, the heavy docking line shot out of the water and slammed thunderously against a nearby bulkhead. Freed from the cable’s pull, the Harbinger plummeted ponderously back toward starboard, throwing everyone and everything in that direction.
There was a moment of fear-filled indecision as the freed research vessel swayed sickeningly back and forth, before settling back into its previous position, its anchors holding tight against the current. The mercs collectively made their way to their feet, moaning and groaning as they went about making sure everyone was all right.
“Son of a bitch!” Von Freiling staggered like a drunkard, holding his palm heel against his injured forehead to staunch the flow of blood. “Okay men, it looks like our target has come to us, and a lot sooner than expected. No problem. It just made our job easier. You guys know the routine, so let’s get moving!”
With a few grumblings, six of the seven mercenaries dusted themselves off and began to make preparations. Johnson alone remained where he was. He reached down, carefully helping Harcourt to his feet before surveying the surrounding seas. The senator had a wild look in his eye as he joined his bodyguard in searching for any sign of their enormous adversary.
It was Willie who spotted the creature first. “Dere he blows!” he cried out, pointing off the portside.
“Holy shit,” Von Freiling sputtered. He moved next to Jake and Amara, staring wide-eyed at what glared up at them.
Brazenly surfacing amidst a blast of water vapor that reached the Harbinger’s gunnels, the pliosaur emerged from the ocean’s depths. With its eyes blazing like garnet-colored footballs, the huge reptile circled the Harbinger, its five-meter-wide back breaking the surface.
“Holy shit is right,” Jake said. He shook his head from side to side as he studied the primordial colossus.
Von Freiling’s eyes never strayed from the creature. It spouted once more and hissed loudly, staring coldly up at him from less than twenty yards away. “Man, look at the girth on him! Amara, how much did you say this thing weighs?”
“I don’t know – sixty or seventy tons?” Amara guessed. She leaned back, straightening her arms and gripping the railing before her, afraid she’d fall in.
“No fucking way, love.” Von Freiling whistled aloud. “He’s a lot more than that. I’d say a hundred is more accurate – maybe more.”
“Who cares how heavy da damn ting is?” Willie’s eyes spewed undisguised fright. “Da question is, what da hell do we do now, mon?”
Von Freiling looked amused. “What the hell do you think we do? We get to work. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a little surprise in store for our overgrown friend down there.”
The big game hunter turned wordlessly away, moving past the deformed railing as he headed toward the bridge. He moved purposely, speaking in low tones into his radio.
Jake watched him disappear into the bridge. Wondering what kind of “surprise” the merc’s leader had in mind for the marauding reptile that circled the Harbinger like a hungry shark, Jake signaled for Amara and Willie.
As Von Freiling passed her, Amara fell in behind him. Jake followed ten steps back, with Willie tagging along. As they passed Harcourt the two men hesitated, pausing to listen in on what the irate senator was saying to Johnson.
Ignorant that her escorts were no longer behind her, Amara continued blithely on, discretely trailing her husband all the way to the ship’s helm.
Harcourt paced back and forth, waving his hands as if preaching to a non-existent congregation. “The beast, which you saw, once was, now is not, and will come up out of the Abyss and go to his des
truction.” He gobbled a noisome breath, gesturing at the boiling wake left behind as the creature looped around the Harbinger’s stern. He focused on Johnson. “The inhabitants of the earth whose names have not been written in the book of life from the creation of the world will be astonished when they see the beast, because he once was, now is not, and yet will come.”
Jake stood ten feet away, watching as the hirsute politician continued his bizarre rhetoric. He leaned toward Willie, whispering in his ear. “What the hell is he talking about? Jesus, I think he’s losing it. Look at him; he’s practically foaming at the mouth!”
“Dat’s a quote from da Book of Revelations, mon,” Willie said. He cast a dire look at the senator. “And ya may be right. Dat entry is about da arrival of da Antichrist and da end of da world.”
Jake grimaced, shaking his head. “As if we didn’t have enough bullshit to worry about, now he’s preaching doomsday? He was always unstable, but I’ve never seen him like this. Something must’ve really driven him over the edge if he’s quoting Armageddon from the bible . . .”
“Da devil can cite scripture for his purpose,” Willie said. He watched Harcourt continue ranting. “Dat’s from da Merchant of Venice, in case ya wanted to know.”
Jake smirked at him. He was beginning to see why Amara found her first mate and friend so entertaining. “I didn’t, but thanks for telling me.”
They turned away from Harcourt, moving toward the stern to resume observing the pliosaur. Distracted by the sight of the prowling titan, neither of them noticed that Amara was gone.
Dean Harcourt stood by the Harbinger’s bridge, his rambling unabated. Having the source of his angst so close, he found himself unable to quell the rapid pounding of his heart. With Johnson steadfastly by his side, he continued spouting scriptures at length.
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