Jess climbed in while Devon started the engine. He backed out of the parking space and proceeded down the ramp to the garage exit.
Twenty minutes later they were driving on Van Ness Avenue to the Marriott Hotel for a one-night stay.
“When we get to our room I’ll give Vernon a call and let him know we’re in the city,” Jess said. “Ask him to join us for dinner.”
“But I only made reservations for two.”
“It won’t hurt you to spend time with my brother.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“By the way, where are we eating?” Jess asked.
“Can’t tell you.”
“But how will I be able to tell Vernon where to meet us?”
“That would ruin the surprise.”
Jess creased her brow and gave him an evil stare.
“Once we get to the restaurant, you can let him know.”
“Why so secretive?”
“I read about this place, and it’s going to blow you away. Believe me, this is going to be a night you’ll never forget.”
***
Twenty-six miles west of San Francisco
Vernon combed the jagged coastline of Southeast Farallon Island in his 25-foot powerboat. Heavy swells hammered the pillars of white rock. He could see the Coast Guard lighthouse up on the ridge.
A small whaler launch, with one man aboard, approached the powerboat. Both vessels bobbed like two apples in a tub.
A chomped half section of surfboard lay on the launch’s stern.
“So, Dale, how’s it going?” Vernon said.
“Pretty slow, I’m afraid. Haven’t seen one great white in almost two days. That’s unusual for this time of year. I should have been able to free tag at least two by now.”
“That is strange.”
“What’s really strange is that there aren’t even any seals around. As you know this is a big feeding ground for both sharks and seals. Can’t explain it. Anyway, I better get back before the tide. Good to see you, Vern.”
Vernon watched the launch head back.
He glanced down at the water. He spotted something just below the surface and leaned over the gunwale for a closer look.
A sea turtle poked its head out of the water and gazed up at Vernon as if to say hello. A black box GPS transmitter was on its back along with some scrawled numbers and the name Gorge.
“Hello, Gorge. Don’t tell me you’re the culprit scaring everything off.” He reached inside the bait box, grabbed a sardine, and tossed the six-inch fish into the water in front of Gorge’s nose. The sea turtle snapped up the offering.
“Surprised you still have an appetite after eating all those great whites.” Vernon took out a spiral pad and a pen and copied down the numbers from the back of Gorge’s shell. The short antenna wriggled on the GPS transmitter.
“So, Gorge, who’s keeping an eye on you?”
Vernon started up the powerboat and steered for the mainland not realizing that the sea turtle was following its wake.
***
Kelly and Nell were on the flat tar-and-gravel roof of the rental houseboat, anchored in the shallows at Bethel Island.
Nell scooted onto the upper rim of the slide that stretched down to the houseboat’s stern and out over the water. She pushed off without hesitation and screamed with glee all the way down. She flew out over the water making a big splash.
Wearing a pair of swim trunks, Sean climbed the ladder to the roof. When he reached the top rung, he saw Kelly lying on a towel, sunbathing in a sensuous white two-piece bathing suit.
“Oh my God, I think I’m going snow blind!” Sean said, shielding his eyes with his hand.
“Get bent,” Kelly said.
“Whatever.”
“Shouldn’t Kate be back by now?”
“Hey, what’s the rush?” Sean said and sprinted off the roof. He grabbed his knees in a cannonball on the way down and entered the water like an anvil.
A short walking distance away, Kate was in the store toting a case of baby formula in a cardboard flat over to the register. She put the formula down on the counter.
Pam Foley, the resort owner, was holding Jonathan for Kate.
“You’re a lifesaver, Pam,” Kate said. She opened her wallet and pulled out some bills. “I was so afraid you might not have Jonathan’s brand.”
“Glad I could oblige.” Pam handed the infant over to Kate.
Pam took the money and rang up the sale. She handed Kate her change. “So how have you been? It’s been awhile.”
“It has. You know how it is, running your own place.”
“Tell me about it,” Pam said.
Kate looked over at a section of the store that was blocked off with sheets of plywood and asked, “Remodeling?”
“Not by choice. We had a fire in the office. Stupid coffee pot, if you can believe it. The contractor’s been dragging his heels.”
“Sounds like you could use a vacation. You and John should come up sometime, pay us a visit.”
“I’d like that.”
“I better get going. Poor Jonathan’s starving. Sure wouldn’t want Devon and Jess thinking I’ve forgotten how to look after a baby. They’re supposed to meet us here tomorrow. Hey, maybe you and John would like to join us for a barbeque.”
“Sounds good. Count us in. So, what are your plans for today?”
“I thought we would conserve on our gas and anchor out at Big Break.”
“Have fun.”
Kate had brought along a collapsible carrier with wheels for lugging the baby formula, so the trek back to the houseboat was manageable carrying Jonathan.
Once at the houseboat, Kate quickly prepared a bottle for Jonathan.
“Cool, you’re back,” Kelly said, opening the sliding glass door.
Jonathan cooed, suckling his bottle.
“Now that Jonathan’s taken care of, we can get going. Tell Sean and Nell we’ll be getting underway in about fifteen minutes.”
“Sure thing,” Kelly said and darted back out onto the rear deck.
***
Steve McKay sat behind his desk at the Charles Darwin Research Center, reading a report he was considering submitting when a chime on his computer alerted him to an incoming message. He looked up at his computer monitor.
A screen popped up with the words Receiving GPS Signal.
He typed in a code on his keyboard. A location fix came up on the screen with the exact longitude and latitude coordinates. He typed in another command, and a map of the California coast appeared on the screen. A red blip kept blinking in the inlet to San Francisco Bay.
“Gorge? What in the world are you doing way up there?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Fisherman’s Wharf near Pier 39
Bernie found an obscure spot by an abandoned warehouse and parked the KHIP news van. He climbed out the front of the vehicle. Victoria and Tony exited out the side door.
“I hate these assignments,” Victoria grumbled.
“Jeez, all you have to do is interview the tourists. Get their opinions of Fisherman’s Wharf and the attractions. Sounds like a gravy job if you ask me,” Tony said, reaching into the van and taking out his camera.
“Yeah? More like a job for an intern,” Victoria replied.
Tony and Bernie exchanged looks and shook their heads. After collecting their gear and locking the van, the news crew headed for the main entrance. They followed a large crowd meandering into the waterfront complex, crammed with gift shops and over a dozen seafood restaurants. A magician was performing on a stage, drawing a decent-size audience.
Victoria led the way with her microphone in hand. She spotted what appeared to be good candidates for her first interview, a family of three. They were well nourished, the pudgy son a younger spitting image of his father. The wife had ruddy cheeks, and her hair was pulled back in a fat bun. She was squinting through reading glasses at the selections on a large menu posted outside the entrance of a restaurant.
Victoria quickly announced who she was, stated her question, and shoved the microphone into the woman’s face.
The surprised tourist stepped back with an indignant scowl and snarled something in German.
“Never mind,” Victoria mumbled in a disgusted tone and walked off.
***
Sausalito Houseboat Marina
Vernon eased the powerboat up to the slip beside his houseboat. He cut the engine and looped a line to the cleat on the dock. The portside of the hull kissed the black tire fender. He pulled on the rope taking out the slack and secured the end around a cleat on the gunwale.
As he was climbing over the side and stepping onto the dock, something caught his eye. He walked over to the twin outboard motors mounted on the stern and looked down at the water.
It was Gorge.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were stalking me,” Vernon said with a laugh.
The creature undulated in the saltwater current, the motion quivering the antenna on the black box attached to the sea turtle’s shell.
Gorge craned his neck and looked up.
“I’ll be damned. You are following me.” Vernon took his notepad out of his shirt pocket and turned to the page where he had copied down the numbers painted on Gorge’s shell.
“Stay put, I’ll be right back. Now, don’t go anywhere,” Vernon said. He dashed across the deck and rushed inside his houseboat.
Vernon went down the hall into his office. He’d left his desktop computer on. The screensaver was goldfish swimming in a faux aquarium. He hit the space bar and the AOL menu popped up. He typed in the information he had copied into his notepad and watched as the homepage for the Charles Darwin Research Center appeared on the screen.
“Well, I’ll be.” He clicked on the To Contact Us field and shot off a short e-mail stating Gorge’s current whereabouts. He figured someone was standing by on the other end and would probably respond back shortly.
He wasn’t disappointed. A reply came back from a Steve McKay, thanking Vernon. Along with the response was a map of the Western Hemisphere showing Gorge’s journey since leaving the Galapagos Islands—the exact route that Vernon had compiled on his laptop computer of the events that had been transpiring up the coast.
Which meant that Gorge was following the same course for some unknown reason.
Vernon sent another e-mail and inquired to Gorge’s relationship to the center.
A minute passed before Steve replied. He explained the tragic events and how Gorge’s mate, Maria, had been killed.
This is unbelievable, Vernon thought to himself. Gorge’s actually hunting them down. If I can keep a fix on him, he’ll lead me right to them. Vernon quickly thanked Steve and signed off.
Vernon burst out of the room and ran down the hall. He shoved opened the door but by the time he got to the dock, Gorge was gone.
“Damn.” Vernon looked out over the bay. There was only another hour left before sunset. He had to find Gorge.
And then he remembered he was supposed to meet Vanessa. He hated to cancel but there was no other way. He hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed.
Then there was Jess’ clandestine invitation.
He figured it best that he apologize to them in person before he took off in search of Gorge. Maybe if there was time, the four of them could plan a future dinner date.
Vernon was anxious for Jess to meet Vanessa.
He was sure they would become quick friends.
***
Devon and Jess strolled along the walkway on the western side of Pier 39 and peered down over the railing. Below were twenty or more floating platforms, each one weighted down with half a dozen sea lions. The raucous animals were a favorite tourist attraction despite their annoying barking and grunting and their pungent stench.
“I hope you don’t plan eating outside,” Jess said, wrinkling her nose.
“Heaven’s no. Come on, we’re almost there.”
Soon, they were at the end of the pier. A small launch chugged toward the dock.
“So where are we going again?” Jess asked.
“Over there,” Devon said and pointed across the enclosed concrete breakwater to a lighthouse on a small island.
“Weird place for an island.”
“Well, it’s not actually a real island. It’s a floating barge made to look like an island. It has palm trees, an underwater restaurant, and a functioning lighthouse. Pretty cool, eh?”
“I’ll say.”
The launch cruised up to the pier where other couples and small groups were waiting.
Devon took Jess’s hand as they boarded.
***
The tourists that were not dining in the Pier 39 restaurants were outside in the center of the buildings being entertained by the captivating street performers.
“What is that God-awful racket?” Victoria griped, heading down a ramp to escape the crowd.
“Sea lions.” Tony looked across the bay and saw the sun setting behind the distant orange trestles of the Golden Gate Bridge. “We should be able to get some great shots with this lighting. But we better hurry.”
“Good. I’ve got a dinner date.”
“Yeah? With who?” Bernie asked.
“None of your business,” Victoria snapped.
Bernie threw up his arms. “Well, excuse me.”
Shouldering his bulky news camera, Tony slowly approached the railing. Bernie stayed close behind carrying the sound boom. Victoria yanked her microphone cord from Bernie’s tape deck recorder so she wouldn’t have to trail behind. She leaned against a marine storage locker and coiled up her cord. She stood impatiently and waited, tapping her microphone on the palm of her hand.
***
Once arriving at the man-made island everyone headed for the restaurant.
Devon and Jess decided to check out the view from atop the lighthouse, as it was just minutes away from a beautiful sunset. After climbing the spiral staircase, they went out onto the observation deck and had a glorious panoramic vantage of San Francisco’s waterfront, Alcatraz Island on the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Quite the view, wouldn’t you say?” Devon said.
“It’s amazing.”
“See, I have my moments. Wait till you see the restaurant.”
“Speaking of the restaurant, I better call Vernon and tell him where we’re at,” Jess said and reached in her jacket pocket for her cell phone.
Devon couldn’t stop himself and let out a little groan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Bernie was monitoring the sound levels through his earphones when suddenly the volume of the sea lions rose. The cacophony of barks and wails was so deafening that Bernie stripped off his earphones. “What the hell?”
“Something’s got them riled up,” Tony commented, panning his camera on the overcrowded platforms teeming with agitated sea lions. A large bull barked the loudest, its platform barely afloat under the 800-pound creature. The young bulls and cows wailed.
“My God,” Victoria said. “They’re scared to death.”
A silurid lunged out of the water, its mouth agape and bit the large bull in half with it bony jaw like a guillotine coming down on a watermelon. Gore spewed everywhere. Pink entrails gushed onto the platform. The upper section of the severed creature flopped into the water, the surface slick with blood.
“Jesus, what is that thing?” Tony yelled, capturing the footage on his camera even though there was minimal lighting as it was already sunset.
“Must be a killer whale,” Bernie answered.
Tony flicked on the lamp attached to the camera housing to get a better shot but the beam did not stretch far enough to illuminate the carnage. The huge fish continued to charge across the platforms attacking the other sea lions. He could hear a loud crackling sound when the fish brushed against the other animals causing them to shudder and collapse.
“Holy shit, I think it’s electrocuting the sea lions,” Bernie said.
“That
’s crazy, killer whales don’t do that,” Victoria shouted. Even in the waning light, she could see that the colossus fish was a magnificent specimen. The behemoth was draped across three platforms with its tailfin still in the water, which meant that it had to be over fifty feet long—twice the length of any killer whale.
Its entire body was covered with hexagon-shaped scales that looked like armored plating. Six-foot long barbs swished about its face. In front of the massive gills were spear-like bony protrusions that the fish was using to impale and gut the sea lions.
It looked similar to the fish she had seen on the video they had stolen from the Quonset hut at the hatchery. Somehow this creature was related to that experiment, and the information she had swiped from Vernon Murdock’s laptop—and now she had living proof that it existed.
“Guys! Get closer,” she shouted. “That’s a million dollar shot!”
***
The waiter had just seated Devon and Jess when the restaurant began to pitch and roll. Devon grabbed his water glass before it tipped over.
“What’s going on?” Jess asked the waiter, staring up at the chandelier swaying over their table.
“You needn’t worry. Whenever a large ship goes by, we feel the wake.”
“Jess, look!” Devon pointed at a porthole high on the bulkhead of the underwater dining room that resembled the interior of a galley ship. An inquisitive sea lion peered through the glass.
“How cute.”
The sea lion’s face vanished, replaced by a circle of murky green water shimmering from the interior lighting fixtures.
“So, should we have appetizers while we wait for Vernon?” Devon asked.
“Sure, what do they have?”
“Well, it is mostly French cuisine,” Devon noted, browsing the menu. “Feel up to trying the escargot?”
“You mean snails! Not on your life.”
***
Vernon gunned the powerboat and cut through the swell. He knew the bay like the back of his hand, running at night with only silhouettes of the shoreline and navigational lights to guide him. Even though there were fewer boats to worry about, the danger of a collision on the water was greater in the pitch dark, which was why he had two halogen spotlights mounted on either side of the cockpit.
Silurid Page 18
