Shark Beach

by Chris Jameson

  Reyes smirked. There was no love lost between himself and Chief Smalls. “You don’t hold back, Doc. And I appreciate the faith in me, but there’s a hell of a lot calling for my attention today, so why don’t you introduce me to your crisis and we’ll see what we can do.”

  The man nodded, turned, and led Reyes up the steps without another word. Dr. Tremblay had a certain grimness about him that belied his otherwise relaxed appearance. His beard was brown and gray and he wore glasses that drew attention to his expressive eyes. As they entered the Institute, he shook his head as if admonishing himself.

  “So, you wanna tell me what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess?” Sheriff Reyes asked.

  “It’s show-and-tell, Sheriff. The show part comes first,” Dr. Tremblay said.

  Reyes rolled his eyes, his thoughts wandering to the dozen other calls he needed to answer at the moment, most of them related to Captiva. He had deputies all over Lee County facilitating the recovery effort, but the only one on Captiva Island was Agnes Hayes, and as competent as she might be, that was where he needed bodies the most.

  Silently, he promised himself he would give Dr. Tremblay ten minutes, no more. He followed the research scientist. Was he director of this place? Was that how he had introduced himself on the phone? Reyes couldn’t remember, but obviously he had the run of the place, because Dr. Tremblay used a key card to allow them through doors marked Authorized Personnel Only. They passed entrances to labs, including one where some kind of control center revealed multiple observation screens, one of them shattered as if in anger. The whole place smelled like smoke and something else, some acrid odor.

  At last they reached a raised foyer, all glass and smooth plastic, like some 1970s vision of the future, where they were greeted by a tall woman with a long face, who turned to stare at them from beneath severely disapproving eyebrows.

  “Tali, meet Sheriff Reyes,” Dr. Tremblay said. “Sheriff meet Dr. Tali Rocco.” Without another word, he turned and walked back the way they’d come.

  “Dr. Tremblay?” Reyes called. “Hey, Doc! What the hell are you doing?”

  Tremblay kept walking, let himself through a security door, and was gone.

  “What the hell?” Reyes said, turning on Dr. Rocco.

  She held up her hands. “Follow me, please, Sheriff,” she said, and started walking the opposite direction.

  He took a deep breath and followed, anger simmering. “Dr. Rocco—”

  “Tali.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit. You have any idea what happened here the past couple of days?”

  “I’m not sure you do, Sheriff. That’s why we need you. You’re probably aware that the Institute does government work. Some of our research is funded by the Department of Defense, and most of that requires security clearance that you simply don’t have.”

  She glanced back at him. “Dr. Tremblay left because he needs deniability. Everything I tell you now, I will deny having told you. He likes to have a clear conscience, so he didn’t want to hear me tell you these things.”

  “What things?”

  “Let me be clear, Sheriff. I can’t be certain that this even needs to concern you. But given the possibility for something to go very, very wrong, we thought it our obligation to bring local law enforcement in. People may die, and we’re hoping you will be able to prevent it.”

  Reyes went cold. “‘People may…’ What are you talking about, Dr. Rocco?”

  “Tali.”

  “I’ll call you whatever the hell you want if you’d speak plainly.”

  “I promise you that I will.”

  She turned and pushed out through a pair of heavy, automatic doors that were slow to kick in. When they swept open, they did so with a grinding noise that could not have been normal. Damage from the storm, Reyes figured.

  Beyond those doors, the corridor was soaked. At the far end, where the glass exit doors had shattered despite the metal shutters that would have been drawn down to protect them, inches of water remained pooled by the threshold. Tali walked right through the water and stepped out through the doorframe, ignoring the fragments of glass still sticking from its edges.

  “Enough of this crap,” he muttered as he followed her outside.

  Reyes stopped short, staring at the Gulf of Mexico. Whatever had been behind the Institute had been obliterated. There had been a seawall here, he knew, but now the water came nearly all the way up to the shattered rear doors. He exhaled, nodding in appreciation of the power of the storm.

  “One of the most significant projects here,” Tali said, standing off to his right, “one of the projects the DoD had the greatest interest in, involved sharks. I had a lot of them here, Sheriff. Thirty-two. During the storm, someone—a security guard with an extreme animal-rights agenda, we believe—released those sharks into an outdoor research pool. We also believe that before he did that, he triggered certain behavioral modifications that were part of our research for the military.”

  Tali did not seem to notice that she had said ‘military’ instead of ‘government.’ Reyes did.

  The wind rippled across the water that had flooded the Institute’s property. The sun gleamed, beating down warmly, almost as if the storm had never come at all, as if nothing had changed.

  “The security guard. Where is he? Can I question him?” Reyes asked.

  “When the storm passed, there was no sign of him.”

  “Then how do you know—”

  “We have larger problems, Sheriff,” Tali said, and for the first time he noticed the same fear in her eyes that he had seen in Tremblay’s. “The outside pool…” She pointed straight ahead. “It was right there.”

  Reyes reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose. “And your thirty-two … behaviorally modified sharks?”

  “Now you see the problem.”

  Reyes swore. How could something like this happen? His thoughts raced and he reminded himself that the population of the two islands had diminished drastically because of evacuations, and most people were too busy to be at the beach while the recovery was going on. But there would be swimmers. It was fucking Florida, after all.

  And there was more to the area than Sanibel and Captiva. Pine Island, Cape Coral, Fort Myers Beach… Reyes felt a migraine building behind his eyes.

  “So … Tali,” he said, “what exactly can you tell me about these sharks?”

  She stared at him, seeming to mull over the words to come.

  “I’ll say this, Sheriff. In some states, they’re virtually harmless. In others, they’re ruthless, murderous, unstoppable killers.”

  Reyes glared at her. “If you’ve got some way to control them—”

  “We did. But the storm didn’t do us any favors. If we can fix the system, get the program running properly again, we might be able to regain control. But until then … well, we just wanted you to know. It could be nothing. They could be just out there swimming contentedly.”

  It was clear she did not believe that.

  “Can you track them?”

  “Once the system is back online, we’ll let you know. We’ll coordinate an effort to find them. Hunt them if we have to, though of course that’s a last resort. Our … financers will not be happy if we have to destroy our research.”

  Reyes turned to leave.

  “Oh, and Sheriff,” Tali said. “You can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you.”

  “That there are nearly three dozen sharks roaming around that weren’t out there a couple of days ago?”

  “By all means, warn them to keep an eye out for sharks. But nothing about the work we do here, or who we do it for.” She smiled. “Trust me. You don’t want to upset them.”

  “You talking about the sharks or the Department of Defense?”

  Tali shrugged. “Both.”

  Reyes started back toward the shattered doors, but Tali reminded him that he’d need a key card to get through the building. He wanted to rage about it, but he had done enough talking. The hurri
cane recovery had suddenly become his second priority. He turned and started around the perimeter of the building, and he pulled out his cell phone to call Deputy Hayes. The Sanibel cops had sent a boat over to help her out, but she was the only person out on Captiva with any legal authority. He needed to give her a heads-up, let her know that as bad as the hurricane had been, the danger had not passed.

  It was swimming out there in the Gulf.

  * * *

  In the aftermath of the storm, Lennox had certain regrets. Not about the crimes he had committed—on the contrary, just thinking about the items he’d stashed in his boat made him feel giddy. But walking along Captiva Drive in search of a place to buy coffee, he had started to think about the moment he’d almost fallen into the water, the moment the boat had nearly shattered itself against some rich asshole’s dock, and that giddiness turned to a strange, sick dread in his gut.

  What the hell had he been thinking?

  Thinking about robbing some people, obviously. About getting away from Captiva and setting up somewhere he would never have to think about his ex again. Yeah, of course, but once upon a time Lennox had known where to draw the line between risk and reward, and in the middle of a goddamn hurricane, he had somehow lost that ability. The third house had turned up the most valuable goods—the jewelry, the vase, all of that—but it had also taken him time that the hurricane had used to gain strength, to spill a little bit of the Gulf of Mexico across Captiva and nearly sink him.

  It gave him a chill to think about navigating across the channel to Buck Key and finding his way into the bayou there. In the moment it had felt wild and brave, the kind of shit that real outlaws did, the kind of outlaws who had inspired him all his life. But he had been out there alone, and even in the bayou the water had nearly swamped his boat. The rain had been brutal. Lennox figured the only blessing was that the hurricane had moved through so quickly. If it had stalled at the coast it could have dumped a hell of a lot more rain. All in all, they’d been fortunate, but he still wondered how he had convinced himself to risk so much.

  Temporary insanity, he thought.

  But that temporary insanity was going to buy him a fresh start—and with any luck, the BMW he’d been coveting for a long while. He had been dropping hints for months to Dallas, his occasional drinking buddy who worked at the marina, that he wanted to sell. By now, he knew Dallas would be ready to pull the trigger and buy the boat, the business, everything—if Lennox wanted to go that way.

  For the moment, though, he was frozen in place. With the bridge out, he couldn’t leave the island except by boat, and he didn’t want to draw any special attention. If he just abandoned his business instead of selling, he would raise quite a few eyebrows. Fingers would eventually point in his direction. The only upside of the bridge being out was that until it was replaced, the people he’d robbed would not be able to return to the island unless they sailed over, which meant they would likely send someone to check on their property, and Lennox had been careful to make any damage he’d created in breaking in look as if it had been caused by the storm.

  He had time. Not a lot, but enough. Still, he was anxious to be gone, to begin his new life.

  Lennox reached the little strip mall across from South Seas Plantation where some genius had put a Starbucks. The telephone landlines weren’t working, so he had rolled the dice on the place being open and was rewarded with the bold OPEN sign in the window. He paused in the mostly empty parking lot, staring at the few heads he could see through the plate glass windows. Anxiety needled at him, though he understood the absurdity of the emotion. None of those people could tell just by looking at him that he’d become a criminal the previous day. He’d read so many stories in which characters had guilt “written all over their faces” and he knew people could create suspicion through their behavior, but as long as he acted normally, no one would be the wiser.

  As he started up the steps toward the Starbucks, his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Lennox dug it out and studied the unfamiliar number. It took him a moment to realize that the call had been diverted from his business line—this was a potential customer, the day after a hurricane.

  “Captain Len’s Boat Tours. How can I help you?”

  “Oh, hi. I was sort of expecting an answering machine,” a man mumbled on the other end of the connection.

  “Nope. You’ve got the real deal. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, I know maybe it seems a little nuts right now, but we’re sort of stranded with nothing to do and I thought I’d see if you were still operating tours in spite of the hurricane.”

  Lennox smiled to himself. What better cover for his crimes than to be able to say he kept working, trying to salvage whatever he could of his business post-hurricane?

  “I’m not running my regular schedule, but under the circumstances, I could reinstate my two p.m. dolphin watch and shelling adventure, if you’re interested. How many in your party?”

  “Seven, but I’m not sure everyone will come. I could give you a call back in fifteen minutes or so, once I know. If you really don’t mind doing a trip for such a small group. I know there’s a lot of damage on the island.”

  Lennox glanced up at the Starbucks, thinking he might need extra shots of espresso. “No worries. I’m sure you won’t be the only call I get. And the seas may be a little rough, but at least out there the mess on the island isn’t going to disrupt our travels. Once you know how many in your party, please go and book on the web page. I can’t process payments over the phone at the moment. What was your name, sir? So I can keep a lookout?”

  “Scully. Rick Scully.”

  “Fantastic. See you at a quarter to two, please, Mr. Scully. We’re going to have a great afternoon. Nothing out on the water but sun and stunning wildlife.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Rick replied. “I can’t wait.”

  * * *

  Corinne stood in the living room, surrounded by tropical artwork in pastel colors, beneath a bamboo ceiling fan. All she needed was a Mai Tai to complete the picture of the island vacation. Instead, she stared at her husband and tried not to wish he hadn’t come along on this vacation.

  “That’s a terrible idea,” she told him, instantly regretting the sting in her voice. “It can’t possibly be safe.”

  Rick winced. She could see that he wanted to snap at her, but instead he nodded. “I get why you’d be concerned, but think about it. If there’s any danger, it’s here on the island. What could be safer right now than being on the water?”

  Corinne frowned. “I can’t believe this guy is even operating his tours today. What if there are sunken boats? He could hit something. How many paying customers can he hope to get?”

  “Zero if he cancels everything.” Rick threw up his hands. “Babe, listen, this vacation is over in a few days. The storm is a disaster for the people here, but once the cleanup is finished, they’ll still be here. We’ll be gone. I’d like to salvage as much of our time here as we can, and that means—”

  The front door opened and the kids tromped in. Emma led the way, loudly running down the list of her teachers at school and how much she hated each one on a scale from one to ten. Jesse trailed behind her, beach towel draped around his neck, patiently listening to her rant. Kelsey came last, still brushing sand off her feet.

  “Is there food?” Kelsey asked, turning hopeful eyes to her mother.

  “If you mean ‘Are you making lunch?’” Corinne said, “sure. I’ll make you a grilled cheese. Who else wants one?”

  Jesse’s hand shot up. Emma raised hers apologetically, at least courteous enough to realize she was old enough to make her own damn grilled cheese sandwich. Corinne didn’t mind. She had taught her kids a certain amount of independence, and they were pretty good about everything except preparing a meal. Unfortunately, they were expert snackers, so she didn’t mind cooking for them if it meant preventing them from eating too much junk.

  Across the glass coffee table from her, Rick raised his hand,
smiling innocently.

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  “Well, I mean, if you’re going to get the grilled cheese assembly line fired up.”

  Corinne rolled her eyes. Times like these, she could almost forget how often she wanted to strangle him. “It’s a good thing you haven’t forgotten how to be charming.”

  The door opened again, allowing Jenn and Matti inside.

  “What’s up?” Matti said, glancing around at them.

  “Mom’s making grilled cheeses!” Kelsey said happily.

  Jenn grinned and cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is she? That’s so sweet of you.”

  Corinne shook her head. “I’m going to murder you all.”

  “I’ll help,” Matti said. “With the sandwiches, not the murders. The kids need to get plates and serve drinks.”

  “Fair enough,” Jesse replied.

  “We’ll have to make it quick if we want to see the dolphins,” Rick said.

  Corinne shot him a dark look. “I’m not—”

  “Dolphins!” Kelsey said, head whipping back and forth to look at her mother and father. “Where are we seeing dolphins?”

  Rick sat on the arm of the plush sectional sofa and clapped his hands together. “Well, most of the boat tours aren’t running today, naturally, but I found a guy who’s willing to go out. Captain Len. It’s a dolphin watch and shelling trip, like we talked about.”

  “I don’t know,” Jenn said, brows knitted.

  Corinne crossed her arms. “Me either. I was just telling him that when you guys came in. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Rick teased. “Seriously, though, what’s happened on the island is awful. But who knows when we’ll be back down here, if ever? I think we need to scratch as many fun things off our to-do list as possible.”

  “Plus, dolphins!” Matti said happily.