The Tank

by Rick Chesler

  And then it struck him. The key was to come up with a new rule for the matches. Why didn’t I think of this before?

  #

  Kane stood atop the tank platform flanked by Cody and Boyd. He held up an arm in an attempt to silence the crowd, which was by far the largest yet. Too large, Kane thought, but tonight that would serve his purpose. He raised a megaphone to his lips and addressed the spectators.

  “As you guys know, we’ve kind played this thing by ear since we started doing it. One thing leads to the next. And now we’ve got a great white shark!” He paused while the crowd roared its approval.

  “And to keep things interesting around here, we decided it’s not right to be able to come to every match and never get in the tank.” He paused for effect while Boyd and Cody gave exaggerated nods next to him. The crowd was half-silent and half-cheering. Kane went on through the megaphone.

  “This new rule will go into effect tonight. In five minutes, I’m going to select someone. If you don’t want to be here when I do that—and that goes for men and women—then you can leave now. You’ll miss the show, but you won’t have to get into the tank. Five minutes. Time starts…” He looked at his watch. “Now!”

  Immediately, a wave of chatter spread through those in attendance as knots of friends discussed whether to stay. After about one minute, the first few people started walking toward the rows of parked cars—most of them female. Kane watched Heather closely, noting that although she turned toward the cars to watch who was leaving, she never even started to leave herself. That would be consistent with what some kind of undercover law enforcement agent would do, Kane thought. Five minutes later, she was one of the few females who still remained.

  Kane raised the bullhorn to his lips. “Wow, so all of you are ready to step into the tank if you’re picked?” A wild chorus of whistles and jeers came in response. “Or you just like the odds, I guess?” He smiled. There still had to be well over a hundred people in attendance. “You are a gambling crowd, after all. Okay, let’s get down to business. Time to pick someone.”

  His gaze roved around the crowd as though he were seeking a target and hadn’t already chosen one. “Eeenie meenie miney moe…” He bounced a finger along the crowd to muted laughter. “Catch a tiger by the toe…or maybe a Florida panther… If he hollers, let him go…” He slowed his cadence to time each word with a jab of his finger. “Eenie. Meeenie… miney… Moe.”

  He ended with his finger pointed at Heather Winters, who stood frozen, looking up at him as he raised the megaphone to his lips.

  “You’re it.”

  FORTY

  Heather stared up at Lyle Johnson, but she couldn’t call him that anymore now that she knew his real name, could she?—Kane Brooks—as he pointed right at her from atop the tank platform. She looked quickly around to see if maybe he was indicating someone else, if anybody around her was already stepping forward. But, in fact, everyone else was already staring at her.

  Her friend, Danny, although she was well aware that he wasn’t really her friend at all, that he wouldn’t be if he knew her true role, leaned in and said close to her ear, “It’s you! He picked you! Oh, I knew we should have left.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” But was it? A maelstrom of thoughts whirled around in her head as she tried to process not only what was happening, but what she was going to do about it. First of all, was this really random? She looked about at the crowd. There had to be over a hundred people still here. The chances he randomly picked her… And if he chose her deliberately, it most likely meant that he knew who she was…how was that possible? What would she do? What would happen if she blatantly refused to get into the tank? There were a lot of witnesses here. But were she to protest, would it compromise her cover?

  Her hand travelled to the phone in her pocket, still recording the audio she had started right before Kane took the stage. She needed to call in that tactical team now. Hopefully, they were sending one already after she had abruptly ended the last call with dispatch and hadn’t called back, but she did say she had to go and hadn’t claimed to be in danger. She had to assume she was on her own for now, until she could place another call. But with all eyes on her, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

  So what to do?

  She could pretend she was so freaked out that she couldn’t bring herself to do it, to get inside the tank with that monster. But then a couple of big guys were walking fast towards her—the one named Cody, and another, the friend of Boyd’s from the screening business, Johnny, she thought his name was. Cody walked up to her and nodded toward the tank.

  “Jenna, right?”

  She nodded and Cody spoke. “Let’s have a word with Lyle.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she followed after them. Her friend started to come with, but the screen guy asked him to stay put. “This is business,” is how he explained it. Danny didn’t put up much of a protest, not that Heather expected him to. She’d known him all of a few hours, and this was a very casual first date. When they reached the tank, she saw that a tarp had been hung from the top of the platform to create a private space beneath the stairwell that led up to the platform. One of the men held the tarp up while the other escorted her underneath, where Lyle was waiting next to the tank.

  Cody stood there a moment, but Lyle indicated he should leave them alone and he left them together in relative privacy. Both of them stood face to face, he a head taller than she, his eyes cold and calculating as he stared at her. Does he know?

  “You’re up. Are you ready?” he asked simply.

  “I didn’t think I’d be picked,” Heather said. It was the truth, after all. Next to her, she could hear water sloshing against the sides of the octagon from the shark’s passage.

  “But you are, so the question stands.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Yes. You can tell me who you really are. I’ve seen you sneaking around, taking pictures. You helped out with first aid that time for Greg after his match with the reef sharks. Looked like you knew what you were doing, too. And now you’re back for more. So tell me about yourself—where do you live?”

  “Flamingo.” She figured that a little truth would help her to seem more convincing.

  He looked at her for a long beat without saying anything. Then, “You know who I am, don’t you?”

  Heather’s adrenaline spiked so hard she thought for a moment she would pass out. She knew her face had to be flushing red; she couldn’t control it. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this undercover work after all. But it was too late now, she was neck deep in this case, face to face with a dangerous criminal and she had to see her own way out—probably through a great white shark tank. Still, she had one last chance. She could play dumb.

  “Yeah, you’re Lyle. You started this octagon thing, right?”

  “You can quit the charade. You chased me with the panther on the highway that day. You almost caught up to me—in Flamingo—with the shark on the boat ramp.”

  Heather turned and started to run, but he grabbed her hard by the upper arm.

  “I’ll scream,” she threatened. “What are you going to do, kill me in front of all your spectators out there? Just let me take you into custody, Mr. Brooks.”

  He nodded sagely at her use of his real name. “If I have to. But I think I have a way to give both of us what we want.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to get out of here, and you want credit for bringing this animal ring down. That’s what got you involved in the first place, right? You’re Fish and Wildlife?”

  She nodded, feeling like she had to have some level of dialog with him at this point.

  “So after I leave, this ring will be busted, and you’ll be the officer who took it down. And I’ll be gone. It’s a win-win.”

  Heather looked dubious. “So I just walk away now and leave?”

  Kane laughed softly. “Sorry, it won’t be quite that easy. But almost. Yo
u can walk out of here in five minutes.”

  “Why five minutes?”

  “To give me a head start, and to keep everyone else occupied.”

  “How am I going to—?” and then she got it. Five minutes. Kane nodded as he watched the stark realization wash down her face like the water that sloshed over the side of the tank with the shark’s movements.

  “Five minutes in the tank,” he said. “And then you’re free to go, free to pull the plug on these little shindigs we’ve been having. You’ll get all the credit.”

  “And if I won’t get in the tank?”

  Kane’s hand movement was so swift it caught her by surprise. “Then I wouldn’t be able to let you walk out of here.” Heather stared in shock at the gun pointed at her mid-section.

  “Let me tell you how it’s going to go,” Kane said. “You and I are going to walk out of here, and you’re going to climb the steps to the platform, with me right behind you. Try anything funny, and you’ll leave me no choice but to take you with me at gunpoint as a hostage until I can get clear. But if you get in the tank, and I’ll head out on my own, and you and I will never see each other again. Hell,” he added, throwing his head back with a little laugh,” you’ll even make some decent side cash if you go the whole five in the tank. I’m only taking my fair share. Everyone else involved, including you, will get their cut.”

  “I don’t want your blood money,” Heather spat. “It would just be turned over as evidence against you anyway.”

  Kane shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’ll leave it on the table in case you change your mind. Now get going. The crowd is waiting. The shark is waiting.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Heather lifted the tarp and emerged from beneath the platform to an expectant crowd. Behind her, she could feel Kane holding up the tarp, following close. She locked eyes for a second with her date, and he looked like he was pleading with her not to get in the tank. But then she turned and gripped the ladder rungs and ascended to the platform amid raucous cheers.

  Kane climbed right on her heels, and soon, the two of them stood side by side on the small platform over the tank. Heather glanced at Kane and couldn’t see the gun in his hands, but she knew he had it hidden beneath his shirt. Looking carefully, she could just see the outline of it. Then she turned her gaze to the tank, where the triangular dorsal fin of the great white shark parted the water’s surface as it circled the octagon. She debated with herself whether being taken hostage by this escaped convict would give her better odds for survival than getting into the tank for five minutes with the marine predator. She wasn’t sure, but then the megaphone was exploding with Kane’s voice next to her ear and she lost her train of thought.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready?”

  He paused to let the roar swell and die down before continuing. “Jenna, here, is going to take on the great white shark in the octagon!” More applause and cheering while Kane glanced briefly toward the parked cars before pointing to the clock. “The timer will be set to five minutes. I’ll start it as soon as she gets in, and if she lasts five minutes…” He turned to look at her as if to say, You better make it five minutes to give me my head-start… “I’m thinking she might be in the market for a new car, am I right, sports fans?”

  The cheers were deafening this time, the applause thunderous. Heather looked into the tank and saw the white shark swimming at what for it was a sedated pace, yet still, it was faster than a human could swim and created a powerful displacement of water in its wake. She couldn’t help but try to look at the menacing jaws, but they were underwater, not clearly visible.

  “Are you ready?” Kane shouted while looking at her, so that the crowd could hear. The crowd was ready. They cheered, roared, shouted. Heather didn’t feel ready—could one ever truly be ready for something like this? But something about Kane’s eyes was making her very, very nervous. It was unsettling. He was brimming over with some sort of feral excitement that threatened to unhinge him, she could see that.

  She nodded and tipped her head back to yell in response. “I’m ready! Let’s do it!”

  Another wave of hollering from the crowd and then Kane reached his hand up to the clock timer. “Go ahead. Time starts when you let go of the ladder at the bottom.”

  Heather turned and faced the ladder, glaring at Kane ever so slightly when she faced away from the audience. Then she was descending the ladder, head whipped around to watch the white shark. Heck, she thought, it was so big that it could take her right here, right off the top of the ladder, before she even reached the water. Why even bother to look at it? She almost laughed out loud as her left foot plunged into the water.

  Then she dropped all the way into the tank and was immediately surprised at the current.

  She dimly registered Kane screaming into his megaphone, “Five minutes starts now!” followed by an air horn blast.

  The water flowed clockwise around the tank with the shark’s motion, so much so that she couldn’t stand in once place. She kicked off the bottom and started to swim along with it, but avoided a splashy crawl stroke in favor of an underwater glide where she knifed through the water and then angled her body up to break the surface for air every twenty seconds or so.

  She looked over and saw the massive white underbelly of the white shark.

  #

  Kane made eye contact with Boyd as he headed down the platform steps, signaling he wanted to talk. He made his way to him and pulled him aside from two other people he had been talking to, but they didn’t notice too much because they were totally absorbed with watching the action unfold in the tank.

  “What’s up?” Boyd wanted to know. “We need a spotter up there!”

  “I know. Can you take my place for a couple of minutes while I take care of something?”

  “Yeah, why, something wrong?”

  Kane had to push aside his irritation in order not to have it show, but he managed it. Barely. “I need to count the cash.” He leaned in even close to Boyd in order to effect a conspiratorial whisper while he jerked his head toward the tank. “I told her we’d double her cut.”

  Boyd reared his head back in surprise. “You did what?”

  “I had to. Only way I could get her to do it.”

  Boyd looked into the tank, where Heather swam in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, undulating through the water like a psychotic mermaid swimming alongside a great white shark. “She doesn’t even have a knife. Maybe that would have made her feel better about it?”

  Kane shot Boyd a disapproving look. “What the hell is a little knife gonna do against a white shark?”

  Boyd made a gesture of conceit. “True.”

  “So can you get up on the platform and watch the tank—take Cody with you if you can find him—while I count the cash. Because if there’s not enough, I want to know that ahead of time so we can work something out. The last thing this operation can afford is to get a rep that we don’t actually pay.” After as many matches as they’d had without any money-handling issues, Kane knew that Boyd had no reason not to take him at face value.

  Boyd looked to the platform. “All right. Meet me up there when you’re ready.”

  Kane looked him in the eyes, holding his gaze a little longer than normal. “Thanks, Boyd. Thanks for everything.”

  Boyd gave an awkward laugh. “Okay, man. Hurry up, you’re not going to want to miss this match.”

  Kane ran off toward Boyd’s screen truck, where he knew they kept the collected cash for safe-keeping until the match was over, and afterwards for transporting home. As he pushed his way through the onlookers, he got a glimpse into the tank and saw Heather pushing off the massive side of the white shark with her hands. It wasn’t attacking her, just swimming by, but the contact elicited a shocked roar from the crowd.

  #

  In the tank, Heather’s senses lit up as her hands came into contact with the raspy sandpaper hide of the white shark. Underwater, eyes open but vision severely blurred, she hadn’t even seen it com
e up on her. One moment, it wasn’t there, and the next, she was pushing herself off of it as it swam by, apparently either oblivious to her presence or else not caring. It wasn’t attacking her, that’s all she cared about.

  Heather surfaced for a breath and heard the megaphone boom, “Three minutes remaining!” Only something was different about it. It wasn’t Kane’s voice. Heather reached one of the clear side panels—she could tell when things suddenly went from dark to light—and raised her head above the surface, conscious that the shark was on the other side of the tank and would reach her in about three seconds if she didn’t keep moving.

  She had been disoriented in the tank, not realizing which way she was facing, but looking out now, she could see the parked cars. And a lone figure running toward them. Kane, no doubt making his getaway, she thought, while I’m in here risking my life with a great white shark.

  She kicked on past the window, already feeling the surge of water the shark pushed against its massive snout as it made its rounds. How many times would it pass her by before it decided to take a little “exploratory bite?” Or before she made a move that it deemed somehow threatening and retaliated by biting one of her legs off? As she made her way around the tank again, still utilizing the underwater stroke that had gotten her this far, she knew she had to get out of here. Already, she couldn’t hold her breath as long as when she had first gotten into the tank. When she could no longer stay underwater, where she was more of an equal with the shark—it was perhaps one reason why scuba divers were attacked much less frequently than surfers—she would be more at risk to a strike. The more time she spent on the surface, the more vulnerable she was.