MEG: Nightstalkers (42 page)

“I think you’ve been at sea too long, Miss Buchwald. Besides the fact that this monster would probably destroy its own tank, we are simply not equipped to deal with a mammal of this size. All our aquariums are indoor facilities. This creature requires an outdoor venue.”

“Can’t your cousin build him one?”

“And what happens when it dies? All our specimens are female, capable of internal fertilization. You know firsthand that we’ve been storing eggs to maintain our stock. This menace is a male. This creature is not worth the investment.”

“Then offer it to Jonas Taylor in exchange for the Lio offspring. The Tanaka Lagoon would be perfect for it.”

Bin Rashidi turned to her, his unibrow furrowed. “You think this thought has not occurred to me?”

Whomp!

“The helicopter will transport us over to the
McFarland
in ten minutes. Examine the Lio; make sure it is not injured.”

“Yes, sir.”

*   *   *

Whomp …

Six hundred and seventy feet beneath the
Tonga
’s keel, the
Liopleurodon
lay on its back in a catatonic state, gasping short swallows of sea water. Each inhalation produced soft oxygen-yielding ripples across its gill slits and searing white-hot pain through the damaged nerves in its neck and chest. A burnt scent filled its nasal cavity; fever racked its blood vessels.

The Manta’s lasers had melted its hide clear down to its chest cavity, stopping just short of its closest vital organ while cauterizing the wound. The injured creature was in too much agony to use its forelimbs, let alone right itself to swim. And so it remained on its back, paralyzed by the pain, the frigid Antarctic water gradually soothing the damaged tissue.

Aboard the Hopper-Dredge
McFarland

Fiesal bin Rashidi, Commander Molony, and Jacqueline Buchwald sat on one side of the conference room table, Jonas, Terry, and Monty across from them. Out of respect, David sat at the head of the table in neutral territory.

Bin Rashidi forced a smile. “So, Mrs. Taylor, was it really necessary to kill my creature?”

“Yes. And I don’t recall seeing a name tag on the animal.”

The smile faded. “Six months my crew and I have been at sea in pursuit of the Lio, the last two weeks in this icebox. My cousin hired your son at his own request and paid him like royalty. Knowing all this you still chose to interfere with our mission just to stock your own facility!”

Terry became livid. “What nerve you have! For your information, we were never after your monster. We were tracking the whale.”

Jackie whispered to her boss. “There’s a tracking device on the whale’s head, three feet below the blowhole.”

“The Miocene whale … where did it come from?” David asked, the question directed at his parents.

“We don’t know,” Jonas replied. “There were a few documented sightings … we got a tip.”

“Then this is a fortunate day for you,” said Fiesal bin Rashidi. “We shall trade the whale for the
Liopleurodon
’s offspring. The
McFarland
shall go to Dubai, the
Tonga
to California.”

“And my son?” Jonas asked. “Where will he go?”

“Wherever he wishes, of course.”

“Dad, I’m not a bargaining chip.”

“I know. I just don’t wish my legacy to be your nightmare. While you were away, your mother and I agreed to sell the institute. You and your sister will split our share of the proceeds.”

Bin Rashidi’s eyes widened. “Who are you selling the facility to?”

“At this point I’m not really sure. We have an offer on the table from Agricola Industries, but it’s predicated on recapturing Bela and Lizzy. However, having secured the juvenile Lio—”

“Sign nothing,” bin Rashidi interrupted. “Whatever Agricola Industries offered, my cousin and I shall best it.”

“You want to buy the Tanaka Institute?” David asked.

“Of course. There are two Disney locations in America, plus facilities in Paris, Hong Kong, and Japan. With aquariums, there are strategic advantages in owning multiple facilities. We could use the lagoon to house the whale and the Meg Pen to hold the
Liopleurodon
until it grew too large. By that time the whale most likely will have died, but our Megalodon back in Dubai would be ready to give birth, in which case the adult Lio would take over the lagoon and we’d ship a Meg pup to California. Whatever the case, multiple facilities and a successful breeding program affords us many options.”

Bin Rashidi turned to David. “I’m sure your parents and I would be willing to structure the deal so that you were one of the institute’s owners.”

David looked around the table, all eyes on him. “How long will it take us to get the Lio and the whale back to Monterey?”

“It depends on the
Tonga
.” Jonas said.

Fiesal bin Rashidi calculated in his head. “Eight days. Possibly less.”

“Dad, is that enough time for Mac to fix the Lexan panel that Bela cracked in the Meg Pen?”

“It’s already been repaired. We also installed electrical sensors to prevent any wildlife from charging the glass again.”

David tapped his fingers on the tabletop, a life-changing moment staring him in the face. He looked at Jackie. “Want a job in California?”

“With you as my boss? That depends. Does it involve copiloting a submersible?”

“Hell, no.”

“Where would we live?”

David turned to his parents, grinning from ear to ear. “Lock it down.”

32

Ten days.

Three ships.

Two monsters.

And the reality show film crew covered nearly every moment of the return trip on tape. From the negotiations of the sale of the Tanaka Institute, to a rogue wave in the Drake Passage that nearly capsized the trawler, to the daily feedings that drove the weekly ratings through the roof and spurred animal rights protesters across the globe.

What does an eight-foot, two-hundred-and-sixty-pound
Liopleurodon
eat?

A thirty-hour stopover at Grytviken Island stocked the
McFarland
with king penguins, fur seals, and elephant seals, the meat frozen in walk-in freezers.

What does an eighty-foot, two-hundred-thousand-pound Miocene sperm whale eat?

An adult minke will quench the appetite of a full-grown
Livyatan melvillei
for two to three days, a humpback twice that time period—if you can keep the blubber from going rancid.

Of course, audiences tuning in to the reality show never saw the trawler’s crewmen netting these sacrificial mammals, nor did they watch the meat being filleted in much the same way Grytviken’s whaling community did over seventy-five years ago.

By dawn of day eleven the three ships, crews and two monsters were located ninety miles south of Baja, California, steaming up the coast—unaware that an even larger creature was hitching a ride in the
Tonga
’s displacement current, its wound healed, its senses attuned to its captive offspring sealed within the
McFarland
’s steel hopper.

Flora Islet, Georgia Strait
Salish Sea, British Columbia

Situated off the eastern tip of Hornby Island, Flora Islet was a moonscape of bare rock inhabited by hundreds of sea elephants and seals. The mammals barked and belched and dove in and out of the sea, but none would venture far from land.

The captain of the hopper-dredge
Marieke
positioned his ship to the north of the landmass, then powered off his engines as instructed.

Out on the main deck, Paul Agricola sat on a bench by the empty hopper as his engineer, Michael Tvrdik, used the starboard winch to lower the remotely-controlled Sea Bat into the emerald-green water. Sunset was thirty minutes away, but the skies were overcast and the sisters were never timid about making a daytime appearance.

Opening his briefcase, Paul powered up the drone’s remote control console—a laptop with two small joysticks.

The engineer waved from the winch. “You’re good to go.”

Paul activated the drone’s exterior camera, then pushed down on the right joystick as he accelerated with the left, sending the Sea Bat into a steep dive along the vertical rock face.

The monitor revealed a dazzling array of life attached to the volcanic rock. Purple and yellow sponges and pink algae were adhered to the wall, along with bright green sea urchins and orange coral.

Mike Tvrdik joined him, a walkie-talkie attached to his belt. “The captain’s standing by at the hopper door controls. You sure you brought enough phenobarbital on board to handle these monsters?”

“We’re good.”

The engineer watched as the laptop’s depth gauge dropped below seventy meters. “You’re halfway to the bottom. Where are your sharks?”

“Watch and learn, my friend.” Paul hit CONTROL and S on his keypad, engaging the Sea Bat’s sonar array.

The screen split, the video camera’s images now limited to the left half of the monitor, the drone’s sonar array to the right. Small objects appeared on screen, the fish finder identifying each species.

“Rockfish and greenlings, looks like a few longfin sculpins and a bunch of lion’s mane jellyfish. Let’s see if we can’t lure something a tad larger up from the depths.”

Paul engaged the drone’s autopilot, dialing up a figure-eight holding pattern.

“Thirty-five years ago we dropped the Sea Bat into the Mariana Trench just above the hydrothermal plume. We were pinging the bottom, taking readings when a forty-eight-foot Meg showed up.”

“The shark that attacked Jonas Taylor?”

“I had no idea the navy was conducting secret dives into the trench; Taylor was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It took me a long time to realize it was the frequency of the Sea Bat’s sonar array, combined with the drone’s metal skin that rendered it a Megalodon lure.” Paul pointed to the screen. “And what do we have here?”

A life form measuring 2.45 meters appeared on screen, circling the Sea Bat from below.

“The fish finder identifies it as a great white, but you can bet the farm it’s one of the pups. Now watch what happens when I go after it.”

Switching his controls from
remote
to
manual
, Paul dove the drone at the eight-foot object, chasing it off to the east.

A moment later a blinking red object appeared on the monitor—a much larger object, listed at 14.32 meters—slightly smaller than an eighteen-wheeler.

“And the first sister has arrived; let’s see who it is.” Paul zoomed in with the drone’s camera as the life form rose silently from the depths, a dark caudal fin appearing on screen.

“Good evening, Bela. Want to go for a ride?” Pulling back on the right joystick, Paul sent the Sea Bat on a steep ascent straight up the rock face—as a second blinking red object appeared on the edge of the screen, moving in from the south on an intercept course.

“Good evening, Lizzy. Catch me if you can.” Paul accelerated, forcing the albino Megalodon to alter its angle of pursuit.

“Fifty meters to the surface … Michael, get the captain on your walkie-talkie, tell him to stand by to open the hopper doors.”

Swooping in behind the drone, Lizzy’s snow-white face bloomed on the laptop’s screen, forcing Paul to increase the drone’s speed.

“Damn, she’s fast. Twenty meters—get ready, Michael. Not yet … not yet … now!”

“Captain, open the doors.”

The ship shuddered as a geyser of seawater erupted behind the two men, propelling the Sea Bat up through the flooding hopper and sixty feet into the air, the stunned Megalodon with it.

“Close doors!”

The forty-six-foot-long shark fell back into the overflowing hopper, sending a ten-foot swell rolling over the sides of the tub in all directions.

Seeing the wave, Michael Tvrdik grabbed his boss and held on to the deck-mounted bench as the swell swept over them, blotting out the sky. A long muted moment passed before the wave retreated over the sides of the ship, leaving both men soaked and shivering.

Paul staggered to the hopper’s rail and looked down. “Holy shit, it actually worked.”

The albino shark was swimming in tight circles in forty feet of water, searching for an exit.

Whomp.

The ship shuddered as Bela struck the
Marieke
’s keel.

Whomp.

Lizzy pounded the hopper’s sealed doors.

“Michael quickly, help me with the phenobarbital.”

The two men stumbled and slid across the wet deck to where four fifty gallon drums of phenobarbital—a central nerve suppressant—was lined up next to a generator and pump. Tvrdik powered up the machinery while Paul dragged a seventy-foot hose over to the hopper and began spraying the liquid elixir into the Olympic-size tub.

Spotting the human, Lizzy circled the tank, then leaped at Paul, who dropped the hose into the hopper and ran.

Over the next chaotic minutes the captured Meg slapped its half-moon-shaped caudal fin against the sides of the hopper in protest. Paul waited her tantrum out, starting a second fifty-gallon barrel. He drained three-quarters of the container before the shark settled down.

Shivering in the cold dusk, Paul and his engineer crept over to the hopper and looked down.

Lizzy was underwater, barely moving. Her remaining functional eye was rolled back in her head, revealing a bloodshot membrane.

“She’s out. Have the captain start the dredgers.”

The two massive suction pipes trailing along either side of the ship jumped to life, pumping a river of water into the front of the hopper, providing a steady current for the Meg to breathe.

After a moment Lizzy’s gills began to flutter as seawater passed down her gullet.

Paul slapped his engineer across his back. “What’d I tell you? Am I good or am I good?”

Whomp.

“What about the other sister?”

“That’s the best part. Bela will follow us all the way down the coast to Monterey.”

Grabbing Tvrdik’s walkie-talkie, Paul contacted the bridge. “Captain, take us out of the Salish Sea, next stop—the Tanaka Intstitute.”