The Swarm: A Novel

by Frank Schätzing

  Eventually the solution came from scientists at the University of California in Santa Cruz, who invented a tiny, pressure-resistant underwater camera. They tried the device on an elephant seal and some Weddell seals and finally a dolphin. In no time they came across the most amazing phenomena. Within a few weeks their understanding of marine mammals was transformed. If only whales and dolphins had proven as easy to tag as other animals, everything would have been perfect. Instead it was virtually impossible. So Anawak was left with far less data than he would have liked - yet at the same time he had more than he could handle. Since no one knew what was important, every piece of information was significant - and that meant evaluating thousands of hours of images, audio recordings, readings, analyses and stats.

  ‘Project Sisyphus’ was what Ford had called it.

  But at least Anawak had plenty of time to devote to it. The station’s reputation had been restored, and yet Davie’s was closed. The waters off the west coast of Canada and North America were restricted to large vessels only. The disaster that had hit Vancouver Island had been repeated along the coast from San Francisco to Alaska. During the first wave of attacks, over a hundred smaller craft had been sunk or severely damaged. The number of casualties had fallen over the weekend, but only because no one was prepared to set sail unless they owned a freighter or a ferry. The media was awash with conflicting reports. Even the death toll was uncertain. Various government-appointed emergency-response teams had been brought in to deal with the situation, which meant that the skies were filled with helicopters whirring up and down the coast, laden with soldiers, scientists and politicians peering down at the ocean, each more helpless and bewildered than the next.

  It was standard procedure for emergency committees to draw on outside advisers, and that was what the Canadian authorities had done. Vancouver Aquarium was co-opted as the hub of all science-based operations under the leadership of John Ford. Almost every marine-science or research institute was placed under his control. For Ford it was a weighty burden: he was leading a mission without knowing what it was. There was a protocol for everything from catastrophic earthquakes to terrorist nuclear attacks, but no one had prepared a brief for this. Ford lost no time in proposing Anawak as an additional adviser. If anyone in North America or Canada could understand what was going on inside a whale’s head, it was him. And surely that was where they’d find their explanation. Whales were supposed to be intelligent, so had the creatures all gone mad? Or was something else affecting their behaviour?

  Yet even Anawak, of whom so much was expected, was unable to help. He’d begun by assembling all of that year’s telemetric data from the Pacific coast. Twenty-four hours ago he and Alicia Delaware had started to analyse the material, helped by staff at the aquarium. They’d pored over positioning data and listened intently to hydrophone recordings but they still had nothing to show for it. None of the whales had been carrying tags when they set out from Hawaii and Baja California towards the Arctic - with the sole exception of two humpbacks, who’d lost their transmitters almost as soon as they’d started migrating. The video shot by the woman on the Blue Shark seemed to be their only piece of evidence. They’d studied it at the Station with the help of some skippers who were adept at recognising flukes. After replaying the footage and magnifying the images, they’d identified some of the attackers: two humpbacks, a grey and several orcas.

  Delaware had been right: the video was a valuable clue.

  Anawak’s aversion to her had soon evaporated. Delaware had a big mouth and seldom stopped to think before she spoke, but beneath her brash manner was an intelligent, analytical mind. Besides, she had time to help. Her parents lived in the British Properties, an exclusive district for Vancouver’s élite. They gave her anything she wanted, but were hardly ever there. Anawak suspected that their financial generosity was an attempt to make up for their lack of interest, but their daughter didn’t seem to care - she could spend their fortune and do as she pleased. Things had worked out perfectly: Delaware saw working with Anawak as an opportunity to back up her studies with practical experience, and he needed an assistant now that Stringer was dead.

  Susan Stringer…

  Every time he thought of her he was overcome with guilt for having failed to save her. He had told himself that nothing he or anyone else could have done would have freed her from the orca’s jaws, but the uncertainty remained. What good were all his papers and articles about intelligence in marine mammals if he couldn’t understand a whale’s thought processes? Was it possible to convince an orca to let go of its prey?

  He reminded himself continually that orcas were animals - highly intelligent ones, but animals all the same. And prey was prey.

  But orcas didn’t prey on humans. Had the whales eaten the people drifting in the water or just killed them?

  Anawak sighed. He wasn’t making any progress. The burning in his eyes was getting worse. Half-heartedly he picked up another disk of digital images, then put it back. He couldn’t concentrate. He’d spent the whole day at the aquarium, discussing findings or calling people, and now he felt drained. Wearily he switched off his computer. It was gone seven. He got up and went in search of John Ford. The director was in a meeting, so he called in on Delaware, who was studying satellite data.

  ‘Fancy a juicy whale steak?’ he asked glumly.

  She looked up with a smile in her eyes. She’d swapped her blue glasses for contact lenses, but her irises were still suspiciously violet. Apart from the buck teeth, she was actually very attractive. ‘Sure. Where do you want to go?’

  ‘The snack bar on the corner’s not bad.’

  ‘Snack bar?’ she said in amusement. ‘I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll treat you.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  ‘Let’s go to Cardero’s.’

  ‘Christ!’

  ‘They do great food.’

  ‘I know, but firstly, I can pay for myself, and secondly, Cardero’s is…well, it’s…’

  ‘It’s fabulous!’

  Cardero’s was situated amid the yachts of Vancouver’s Coal Harbour. It was a big place with large windows and high ceilings - one of the trendiest outfits in town. The restaurant offered stunning views and good west-coast cuisine, while the adjoining bar was filled with the young and chic, laughing and sipping drinks. In his frayed jeans and faded sweater Anawak could hardly have been less appropriately dressed, but he always felt uncomfortable and out of place in smart restaurants. He couldn’t deny that Delaware belonged there, though.

  So, Cardero’s it was.

  They took his old car and drove to the harbour. They were in luck. It was usually necessary to book at Cardero’s, but one table was empty. It was a little removed from the bustle of the main restaurant, which was perfect for Anawak. They ordered the house speciality - salmon baked with soy, brown sugar and lemon on a cedar plank.

  ‘OK,’ said Anawak, once their order had been taken. ‘What have we got?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Delaware. ‘I’m baffled.’

  Anawak rubbed his chin. ‘Well, maybe I’ve found something. The video footage put me on to it.’

  ‘My video footage, you mean.’

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted, and added ironically, ‘We’re all very grateful.’

  ‘Well, you should be, if it’s given you a lead.’

  ‘It’s the whales we identified. Only transient orcas were involved in the attacks, not a single resident.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘We haven’t heard anything bad about residents.’

  ‘The Johnstone Strait was clear of attacks - even though it was full of kayaks at the time.’

  ‘So the threat’s being posed by the newcomers.’

  ‘By transients, and maybe offshore orcas too. The grey and the two humpbacks on the video were all transients. All three whales spent the winter in Baja California - we’ve got it all on file. We emailed pictures of their flukes to the institute in Seattle, who confirmed that the whale
s have been seen there several times in recent years.’

  ‘So what’s the big deal? Everyone knows that greys and humpbacks migrate.’

  ‘Not all of them.’

  ‘I thought…’

  ‘Something weird happened the second time we went out that day. I’d practically forgotten about it after everything else. We were desperate to get the people off the Lady Wexham, but the boat was sinking and a group of greys was trying to ram us. I couldn’t see any of us getting out of there alive, let alone saving anyone. Then two more greys appeared alongside us, and lay there in the water until the others backed off.’

  ‘Were they residents?’

  ‘Yes. A dozen or so greys stay on the west coast all year round - they’re too old for the gruelling journey. When the herds arrive from the south, they make a big show of welcoming the old guard back into the fold. One of the two whales was an elderly grey that lives here. He definitely didn’t want to hurt us - far from it. In fact, I think we owe those whales our lives.’

  ‘Unbelievable. To think they protected you!’

  ‘Tut, tut, Licia.’ Anawak raised an eyebrow. ‘You of all people projecting human intentions on a whale.’

  ‘After what I saw three days ago I’m ready to believe anything.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say they actually protected us, but it seemed as though they kept the other whales at bay. They weren’t keen on our attackers. All in all, we could reasonably infer that only migrants are affected. No matter which species we’re dealing with, the residents appear harmless. They seem to know that the others are deranged.’

  Delaware scratched her nose. ‘It would fit. A large number of whales went missing in the middle of the Pacific on their way here from California. The aggressive orcas live in the middle of the ocean too.’

  ‘Precisely. So whatever has caused the change in their behaviour, we’ll find it - in the deep blue sea, miles away from anywhere.’

  ‘The question is, what?’

  ‘We’ll work it out,’ said John Ford, who had materialised beside them. He pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘The sooner the better - before the politicians and their perpetual phone calls drive me nuts.’

  ‘I noticed something too,’ said Delaware, as they were eating their dessert. ‘I can see how the orcas might have enjoyed themselves, but it can’t have been fun for the others.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked Anawak.

  ‘Well,’ she said, through a mouthful of chocolate mousse, ‘imagine how you’d feel if you kept running into something and trying to knock it over. Or flinging yourself on top of something with lots of hard edges and corners. The chances are, you’d hurt yourself.’

  ‘She’s right,’ said Ford. ‘Animals only hurt themselves for the survival of the species or to protect their young.’ He removed his glasses and polished them. ‘How about we let our imaginations run wild for a minute? What if the whole thing was a protest?’

  ‘A protest against what?’

  ‘Whaling.’

  ‘Whales protesting against whaling?’ exclaimed Delaware.

  ‘Whalers have come under attack in the past,’ said Ford, ‘usually because they were hunting calves.’

  Anawak shook his head. ‘You can’t seriously believe that.’

  ‘It was just an idea.’

  ‘Not a plausible one, though - it’s not even proven that whales know what whaling’s about.’

  ‘You mean they don’t know they’re being hunted?’ said Delaware. Crap!’

  ‘I meant that they may not see a pattern,’ Anawak retorted. ‘Pilot whales always strand themselves on the same stretch of coastline. In the Faroe Islands whole herds are rounded up by fishermen and killed with metal gaffs. It’s a bloodbath every time. Then there’s Futo in Japan, where countless dolphins and porpoises are slaughtered each year. It’s been going on for generations, so they must know what awaits them. But why go back for more?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem very smart,’ agreed Ford. ‘But we’re still pumping greenhouse gases into the air and chopping down rainforests, even though we know we shouldn’t. And that’s not very clever either.’

  Delaware frowned and scraped up the last of her chocolate mousse.

  ‘It’s true, though,’ said Anawak.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Licia’s point about the whales getting hurt when they launched themselves at the boats. I mean, if you decided to take out some humans, you’d find yourself a cosy niche with a good view, then point the gun and fire, making sure you didn’t shoot yourself in the process.’

  ‘Unless something affected your judgement.’

  ‘Hypnosis?’

  ‘Perhaps they were ill - or just confused. That’s it! They’re confused.’

  ‘Or maybe they’ve been brainwashed.’

  ‘Come on, guys, cut it out.’

  They all fell silent, immersed in their thoughts. The background noise grew louder and snatches of conversation drifted over from neighbouring tables. The situation at sea still dominated the media and a strident voice was linking the attacks along the went coast to accidents in Asia. Some of the worst shipping disasters in decades had just occurred in the Malacca Strait and Japan. Everyone in the restaurant was speculating and hypothesising, their appetites undiminished.

  ‘Suppose toxins are responsible,’ said Anawak at last. ‘PCBs and so on. What if something’s driving them mad?’

  ‘Mad with rage more likely.’ Ford was fooling around again. ‘They’re up in arms about the Icelanders who want new whaling quotas, the Japanese who can’t stop eating them, and the Norwegians who don’t give a damn about the IWC. Christ, even the Makah want to hunt them again. Hey, there’s our answer!’ He grinned. ‘They must have read it in the paper.’

  ‘For someone who’s head of a scientific think-tank,’ said Anawak, ‘you don’t seem to be taking this seriously. You’ve got an academic reputation to keep up, remember.’

  ‘The Makah?’ echoed Delaware.

  ‘The Makah are part of the Nuu-chah-nulth people,’ said Ford. ‘Indians from the west coast of Vancouver Island. They want to start whaling again. They’ve been campaigning for years for legal recognition.’

  ‘No way! Are they crazy?’

  ‘Your civilised outrage is all very commendable, Licia, but the Makah haven’t hunted whales since 1928.’ Anawak yawned. He could barely keep his eyes open. ‘In any case, it wasn’t them who pushed grey whales, blue whales and humpbacks to the brink of extinction. For the Makah it’s a question of preserving their culture. They say that the art of traditional whaling will soon be forgotten.’

  ‘They could always try shopping like everyone else.’

  ‘I hope you’re not spoiling Leon’s noble plea for tolerance,’ said Ford, refilling his glass.

  Delaware stared at Anawak. Oh, no, he thought. He looked like an Indian, anyone could see that, but she was about to draw the wrong conclusions. He could hear her question gather steam. He’d be forced to explain himself and he hated doing that. It only Ford hadn’t mentioned the Makah…

  He caught the other man’s eye.

  ‘Let’s talk about it some other time,’ Ford said hastily. Before Delaware could argue, he went on, ‘The toxins theory is something we should talk about with Oliviera, Fenwick or Rod Palm, but I don’t buy it. The pollution stems from oil spills and chlorinated hydrocarbons. We know what that leads to: damaged immune systems, infection and premature death - but not madness.’

  ‘I thought all the orcas on the west coast were supposed to be dead in thirty years?’ Delaware piped up.

  ‘Thirty to a hundred and twenty, if we don’t do something about it. But it’s not just the chemicals. The orcas are being deprived of their main prey, so they either die of poisoning or they’re forced to find new waters. And because they’re hunting in areas they’re not familiar with, they get caught in nets. The odds are stacked against them.’

  ‘Actually, forget the toxins theory,’ said Ford. ‘If it were ju
st the orcas, I’d say you were on to something - but when orcas and humpbacks join forces like that…I don’t think so, Leon.’

  Anawak thought for a moment. ‘You know my stance on whales,’ he said softly. ‘I’m usually the last person to read intentions into animal behaviour or to talk up a creature’s intelligence. But…don’t you have the feeling they wanted to get rid of us?’

  He’d expected vehement protests, but Delaware nodded. ‘Yes. Except the residents.’

  ‘Because the residents haven’t gone wherever the others have been or experienced whatever it is that has changed them. Those whales that sank the freighter…We’ll find the answer out to sea.’

  ‘Christ, Leon.’ Ford gulped some wine. ‘It’s like a horror movie. Go forth and kill humanity.’

  Anawak didn’t reply.

  That night, as he was lying awake in his Vancouver apartment, Anawak played with the idea of tagging a whale. The creatures were still in the grip of whatever had possessed them, so if he could fit one with a transmitter and a camera, maybe it would provide them with the answers they so desperately needed.

  But how could he tag a rampaging humpback, when even the calmest of whales seldom stayed still?

  And there was the problem of the skin.

  Tagging a whale and tagging a seal were two entirely different propositions. Seals could be caught on land while they were resting. The tag’s biologically degradable adhesive would stick to the fur and dry quickly. After a set period of time it was designed to fall off. Later in the year, when the animal moulted, the last traces of glue would disappear.

  But whales and dolphins didn’t have coats. It was hard to imagine anything smoother than the skin of an orca or a dolphin. It felt like a freshly peeled boiled egg, and was covered with a thin layer of gel that decreased water resistance and kept out bacteria. The top layer was continually being replaced. When the animal breached, it shed its skin in long thin strips, ridding itself of parasites and tags in the process. The skin of grey whales and humpbacks was scarcely any easier to deal with.