by Roland Smith
“Sorry for the stinky clothes!” she yelled down the chute, then listened. She didn’t get a reply, and didn’t expect one, but she felt it was important to try to make friends, even if they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, acknowledge her.
The marbled shower was almost as big as her cabin aboard the Coelacanth. She turned the water up to a notch below scalding, then stepped under the stream with her eyes closed. As she reached for the soap dish to her right the marble wall seemed to move. She opened her eyes and stared in disbelief. The wall had moved. There was a six-inch gap in the white marble.
• • •
Noah was standing in his state-of-the-art DNA laboratory on the third level beneath the Ark. His biochemistry company was called GeneArk. Above ground, the company did very standard biochemistry research. Below ground, under his direction, it had taken biochemistry to unheard-of places. In the Middle Ages, his scientists would have been called witches and warlocks. Their experiments would have been called dark magic.
Noah was talking to his chief genetic scientist, Dr. Strand. The scientist was as pale as an eggshell, as if he hadn’t been out in the sun in a decade. But in truth it had only been six months. He was wearing red surgical scrubs. He had a bandage wrapped around his left hand. Perched on the bridge of his prominent nose were the thickest black-framed glasses Noah had ever seen, making the scientist’s dark eyes pop from his bald skull. The effect, Noah thought, was irritatingly squidlike. He noticed that Strand’s glasses had been damaged, the bridge crudely repaired with silver duct tape.
“What happened?” Noah asked, pointing, and not really caring.
“Nothing,” Strand said. “Dropped them on the cement.”
Noah gave him a nod and got on to more important things. “How are the samples?” he asked.
“Pristine,” Dr. Strand answered excitedly. “There is nothing even remotely like them.”
“Can they be cloned?”
“Absolutely. But of course we will have to transport them south for the real work to begin. When do you think—”
“When I say!” Noah cut him off. Strand had been complaining about being stuck at the Ark for months, and Noah was sick of it.
“Of course … of course … ,” Strand whined, backing away as if Noah was about to take a swing at him.
Noah smiled. He had never hit the scientist, but knowing that Strand thought he might gave him a feeling of great satisfaction.
“Can the samples be mutated and recombined?” Noah asked.
“I’ll need more time to work with the material, but I don’t see why not.”
“And did you take care of the implants?”
“Of course … of course. Subcutaneously, at the base of the tail, just as you requested.”
Noah nodded. Although he already knew the implants had been taken care of. He had watched the minor procedure on one of his secret cameras.
“Where did you find these remarkable creatures?” Strand asked, his excitement overtaking his fear for a minute. “They are absolutely incredible.”
Noah frowned. Questions like this were not allowed at the Ark. Information was strictly segregated. One level had no idea what another level was doing. Most of his staff didn’t even know how many levels there were at the Ark.
“I-I’m sorry,” the scientist stammered, realizing his mistake. “It’s just that the material appears to be millions of years old, but it’s still viable. If I could learn the country of origin, I could—”
Noah cut him off again with a cold blue-eyed stare. “You’ll know soon enough.”
“Of course … of course,” Dr. Strand sputtered, backing farther away like a frightened crawfish.
“How is CH-9?”
“Yvonne was down here early this morning working with him. She said the training was going well. He has a very strong food drive.”
“What about his implant?”
“Well, his is very different from the implants we placed in the dinosaurs, of course. Yvonne aptly calls it a steering wheel.”
Noah thought about this for a moment. “Is it possible we could use that implant in a human subject?”
“I don’t see why not. It would involve brain surgery, which is always a risk. And we would need a willing subject.”
Noah nearly laughed. Willingness had nothing to do with a subject’s willingness. It had to do with Noah’s will. And he had the perfect subject in mind.
“We managed to come up with a harness for CH-9,” Strand went on enthusiastically. “It doesn’t impede his movements in any way, and with the new camera we can see everything CH-9 sees.”
“We won’t be using the camera in the next field tests,” Noah stated matter-of-factly.
“Of course … of course,” Strand sputtered again. “That’s a given, but as a training tool it’s perfect. CH-9 is fast. He gets ahead of us. Without the camera to see where he’s going, we might lose him. We’ve left the camera harness on him so we don’t have to tranquilize him every day. He’s a little hard to handle.” Dr. Strand rubbed the bandage wrapped around his hand.
Noah smiled. CH-9 had bitten Strand three times. The last two requiring stitches.
“I’m glad to hear the camera is working well,” Noah said. Ted Bronson’s high-tech camera had been an added bonus to the Mokélé-mbembé raid. Butch had stolen it from the Coelacanth. Noah’s technicians had modified it to fit the harness.
“It’s unbelievable! The video is almost as clear at night as it is during the day.”
Noah glanced at his watch. He had just enough time to take a look at the final cut of his syndicated television show before sending it off. It was due to go out early the following morning and air the following evening all over the world. It was a dramatic episode. All he had to do was add an announcement at the end that would shake the scientific community and the general public to their very core. He was looking forward to it.
Luther scooped up the last smudge of baba ghanoush and popped it into his mouth. “So your mom teaches at the University of Washington?”
“Just for the summer,” Dylan answered. “She’s an Egyptologist.”
“So she’s not really your mommy she’s your —”
“My mummy.” Dylan finished the old joke and gave him an eye roll.
Luther grinned. “I guess you get that a lot.”
“Only when I tell someone what she does for a living. There’s a good chance you won’t even meet her. She’s putting together an exhibit at the university. That’s why Theo, I mean Ted, loaned me the pickup. She’s been spending her nights in the exhibit hall. I didn’t have a way to get around.”
“Can I drive?” Luther asked.
“No!” Marty said.
“Just asking.”
Dylan laughed. “What’s the plan?”
“We don’t have a plan,” Marty admitted. “We thought we’d just go to the Ark and see if we could spot Grace and maybe get a chance to talk to her.”
“And maybe get those hatchlings back,” Luther added.
“Fat chance,” Marty said.
“And Noah Blackwood is going to be on the lookout for you?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah, and his thug Butch McCall.”
“Don’t forget that snake Yvonne.”
“The animal trainer,” Dylan said.
“She’s worse than Butch,” Luther said.
“Nobody’s worse than Butch McCall,” Marty said. “He tried to throw me overboard, and he murdered a guy aboard the Coelacanth.”
Dylan pointed at the graphic novel. “I read about that. I thought you were kidding.”
“It’s no joke,” Marty said. “These guys play for keeps. You may not want to get involved with this. We just need a ride to the Ark. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Of course.”
“Good. We’ll just give you a call when we’re ready to be picked up.”
Dylan shook his head. “No way. You need me. I’m the only one of us that Noah Blackwood and the others don’t know on sigh
t. I’m going with you.”
Marty looked at Luther.
“It’d be nice to have one more person — to call the undertaker if things don’t work out at the Ark,” Luther joked grimly. “And he’s right about Blackwood not knowing him.”
Marty turned back to Dylan. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Dylan said.
Marty nodded. “When we get there, we should enter the gate separately.”
“Why?” Luther asked.
Marty looked at Luther’s shaved head. “Because we’d be humiliated to be seen anywhere with you.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Luther said.
Marty smiled. He and Luther had been throwing smack talk at each other since they were in first grade at Omega Opportunity Preparatory School in Switzerland (OOPS for short).
“Seriously,” Marty said. “If we go in together and they recognize one of us, we’ll all get busted. We can stay in touch by cell phone. Providing your phones work after getting dunked in Puget Sound.”
“Mine was in the truck,” Dylan said.
“Mine’s in the bathroom next to the blow-dryer blasting it,” Luther said. “I’ve dropped it in the toilet half a dozen times. The blow-dryer always revives it.” He looked at Marty. “You don’t have a cell phone.”
“But I have the Gizmo, which works like a smartphone.”
“The Gizmo is real?” Dylan said.
“It’s all real,” Luther said. “And the Gizmo isn’t a smart-phone, it’s a genius phone. Show him, Marty.”
Marty didn’t have to be asked twice. He pulled PD out of his pocket so he could get to the Gizmo. He handed PD to Luther. She growled.
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“She doesn’t recognize you. You look like one of the walking dead.”
“I told you the disguise was good.”
Marty and Dylan each gave Luther a heavy-duty eye roll.
“What?”
They ignored him. Marty fished out the Gizmo and turned it on. It was a little bigger than a standard smartphone and had the same functions: phone, camera, video, email, texting, web browsing, etc. But there were a couple of other functions that made it very different. The first was its tracking capabilities. Everyone officially connected with eWolfe wore a color-coded tracking tag around their neck. They could be tracked anywhere in the world in real time.
Marty demonstrated by clicking Wolfe’s icon. He was currently forty-thousand feet over Montana, traveling at seven-hundred miles an hour.
“Hope he’s in a jet,” Luther said.
Dylan laughed.
“Don’t encourage him,” Marty said, randomly clicking through a few other names. Ted Bronson was at the Squidarium. Not surprisingly, Theo Sonborn was in the exact same position as Ted. Laurel Lee and Ana Mika were passing over Columbia, South America, on their way to Brazil.
Marty wished Wolfe had thought to give his parents tags. If he had, Marty would know exactly where they were.
“What about Grace?” Dylan asked.
“Blackwood tore off Grace’s tag before he took her,” Luther said.
Marty nodded. “She’s off the grid.”
“Show him the dragonspy!” Luther said.
Marty knew Luther well enough to know that what he really meant was: Let me show him!
“Here.”
Luther eagerly grabbed the Gizmo and pushed the wake icon. A drawer slid open, revealing a tiny gold insect the size of a dragonfly. Its wings unfolded. There were two working dragonspies in existence. Grace had one of them. The second one belonged to Ted. He had loaned it to Marty and forgotten to ask for it back.
“What’s it made out of?” Dylan asked, watching the bot in shock and wonder as it stretched its spidery legs out one at time.
“Some kind of organic bug material that Wolfe discovered in the Congo,” Marty answered. “Ted Bronson synthesized it into a new compound. He used it to build the Orb, the aqua-suits, and —”
“His coolest invention,” Luther interrupted. He pushed a button and the dragonspy rose into the air on two sets of wings. He flew it around the room, then brought it to a hover just above Dylan’s head.
Dylan stared up at the tiny bot in amazement. “What powers it?”
“Light,” Marty answered. “The wings double as solar panels.”
“So,” Dylan said. “The dragonspy Luther flew into your cousin Grace’s pocket could still be active.”
Marty still wasn’t used to people calling Grace his cousin after all their years believing they were twins. “If she still has it, the dragonspy is out of juice. Or Blackwood might have taken it from her. But that’s not the problem. She can’t fly it without a Gizmo.”
“She couldn’t fly it even if she had a Gizmo,” Luther said. “It’s not easy, and video games were never Grace’s thing. Whoa, dude! You didn’t do the dishes.”
Marty and Dylan looked at the Gizmo screen. Luther had flown the dragonspy into the kitchen and was hovering it over the sink.
“You know the deal,” Marty said. “If I cook the food, you do the dishes.”
“I didn’t ask you to cook,” Luther said. “I wasn’t even hungry.”
“That’s odd. You ate most of the food.”
“I was just being polite.”
“I’ll do the dishes,” Dylan said. “I can’t believe how clear the video is. The camera must be microscopic.”
“Cameras, plural,” Luther said. “And I’ll help you with the dishes.”
“Audio, too,” Marty said. “With speech-to-text.”
“Speech-to-text?” Dylan asked.
“Yeah. Ted figured it out on the way back from New Zealand. You can land the dragonspy and it will stream the conversation and video to Wolfe’s satellite and play it back later.”
“Wolfe has a satellite?” Dylan said.
Marty nodded. “Two, actually. One in the air, one being built.”
Luther moved the dragonspy and found PD sniffing around for crumbs near the kitchen table. She heard the buzz of the wings and barked. Luther pushed the speech-to-text icon. The bark came out: arrgh … ugrk … shlep …
“Guess it doesn’t understand teacup poodle,” Marty said.
Luther grinned. “That Ted is such a dunce, creating an app that doesn’t speak dog.”
“Are we taking PD with us?” Dylan asked.
Marty shook his head. “Not this time. It’s going to be hard enough for us to get past the gate without getting busted. She lets out a single whine and it’d be all over for me.”
“Let’s get going,” Luther said. “The Ark will be closing in a few hours.”
“Dishes first,” Dylan said.
“We can do them when we get back,” Luther said.
“Better do them now,” Marty said. “In case we’re murdered.” He looked at Dylan. “Are you sure you want to go with us?”
Dylan shrugged. “Why not?”
Grace walked into the dining room, her head still spinning with the discovery of the secret passage. She hadn’t had time to explore it like she wanted, but she’d seen enough to know that it was extensive and there were more passages, connecting somewhere behind the walls of her grandfather’s mansion. And as far as she could tell, there were no surveillance cameras in the passages.
But enough of that, she thought. It’s time to find out if I’m getting a nibble.
Twenty-two white chairs sat around the glass and chrome table. The chairs were empty, but Grace wasn’t discouraged. Not yet anyway. The few times Noah had joined her for a meal he had been late.
She sat down near the end of the table. On the white linen placemat was a steaming bowl of crab chowder; a beautiful green salad with tomatoes, avocado, and olive oil dressing; and a plate of calamari ceviche. An identical meal was set out next to her, at the head of the table, for her grandfather, but she knew from experience that there was no guarantee he would show up to eat it.
Grace frowned at the plate of raw squid. The choice of entrée was
not a coincidence. She suspected that Noah Blackwood carefully planned all of the menus.
Looking at the beautifully prepared and plated food, she couldn’t help but think of Marty and his love of cooking. She wished she’d been able to talk with him before she had left with Noah Blackwood. She could only hope that he understood why she had gone.
“Calamari!”
Grace jumped. One thing she had not gotten used to was Noah Blackwood’s ability to enter a room without a sound, as if he were a ghost.
He smiled at her. “One of my favorite dishes.”
“Mine, too,” Grace lied. She didn’t like any kind of food that reminded her of crawling animals.
Noah pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. “I apologize for being late. I was reviewing the final tape for my television show. I’ll send it out first thing tomorrow morning. It will air tomorrow evening in nearly every country on earth. It’s a wonderful segment. Pirates off the coast of New Zealand.”
“Pirates?” Grace said.
“Surely you remember the attack?”
“Of course,” Grace answered, not mentioning that she and the Coelacanth crew all believed the pirates were sent by none other than Noah Blackwood himself.
“They attacked our ship first,” Noah said. “Fortunately, we were able to repel them. When they couldn’t board us, they tried their luck with you. We were preparing to come to your assistance when your …” Noah hesitated. “When Dr. Wolfe broke out the sonic cannons. I wish he’d used them on the pirates when they were attacking us, but that’s neither here nor there. I’m just happy the casualties were low.”
“Casualties?”
Noah nodded sadly. “I lost two of my best soldiers in the war for wildlife. They will be greatly missed. I’m dedicating the episode to them.”
“I’m sure their families will appreciate the gesture,” Grace said.
“It was the least I could do.” Noah picked up his fork, stabbed a tentacle, and popped it past his perfectly aligned, unnaturally white teeth. “Delicious! Aren’t you hungry?”
