The Swarm

by Frank Schätzing

  Greywolf bristled. Anawak knew that Greywolf had been charged several times with assault, and wondered how far he could push him. One blow from the giant would finish the argument for once and for all.

  'Why do you talk such shit, Leon?'

  'You're only half Indian,' said Anawak. He paused by the sea otters' pool to watch them dart through the water like torpedoes. Their fur glistened in the morning sun. 'In fact, you're not even that. You're about as Indian as a Siberian polar bear. You don't know where you belong, you never make a go of anything, and you use your environmental crap to piss all over other people. Now, let me out of here.'

  Greywolf squinted up at the sun. 'I can't hear you, Leon,' he said. 'It looks like you're talking but I can't hear the words. All I hear is a meaningless din, like gravel pouring on a roof.'

  'Ouch!'

  'Come on, it's not like I want much from you, just a little support.'

  'I can't support you.'

  'I've even gone to the trouble of coming here to tell you what we're planning next. I didn't have to.'

  Anawak stiffened. 'What is it?'

  'Tourist-watching.' Greywolf burst out laughing. His white teeth glinted like ivory. 'We'll be joining you in our boats to photograph the tourists. We'll stare at them, pull up alongside them, try to grab hold of them. Then they'll know what it feels like to be gawped at and pawed.'

  'I'll have you stopped.'

  'You can't. This is a free country, and no one can tell us when and where to sail. We've laid our plans and we're ready for action – although maybe if you were a bit more accommodating I'd think about calling it off.'

  Anawak stared at him. 'There aren't any whales around anyway,' he said.

  'Because you've driven them away.'

  It's nothing to do with us.'

  'Yeah, right. We're never the ones at fault. It's always the animals. They're forever swimming into harpoons or posing for photos. In any case, I heard humpbacks had been sighted.'

  'A few.'

  'I guess your business must be suffering. You don't want us to dent your profits even more.'

  'Get lost, Jack.'

  'That was my final offer.'

  'Thank God.'

  'Leon, you could at least put in a good word for us. We need money. We rely on donations. It's for a good cause. Can't you see that? We're both working for the same thing.'

  'I don't think so. Take care, Jack.'

  Anawak quickened his pace. The eco-warrior didn't follow. Instead he shouted, 'Stubborn bastard!'

  Anawak walked determinedly past the dolphinarium and headed for the exit.

  'Leon, you know what your problem is? Maybe I'm not a proper Indian, but you are!

  'I'm not an Indian,' murmured Anawak.

  'Oh, sorry!' veiled Greywolf, as if he'd heard him. 'You think you're special, don't you? Well, how come you've abandoned your people? Why aren't you there for them, where you're needed?'

  'Asshole,' hissed Anawak. The beluga test had gone so well – it night have been a really good day. Now he felt worn down and miserable.

  His people…

  Who did Greywolf think he was?

  Where he was needed!

  'I'm needed here.' He snorted.

  A woman walked past, looking at him strangely. Anawak glanced round. He was on the street outside the aquarium. Shaking with fury, he got into his car, drove to the terminal at Tsawwassen, and took the ferry back to Vancouver Island.

  THE NEXT DAY HE rose early and decided to walk to the whaling station. Wisps of pink cloud trailed on the horizon, but the mountains, houses and boats still cast dark shadows on the perfectly still water. Within a few hours the tourists would arrive. Anawak walked the length of the jetty to where the Zodiacs were moored and leaned over the wooden railings.

  Two small cutters sailed past. Anawak wondered whether to call Susan Stringer and talk her into going out with him to look for whales. As Greywolf had said, the first humpbacks had been sighted, which was reassuring, but it didn't explain where they'd been hiding. Maybe together he and Stringer could identify a few. She had sharp eyes, and he enjoyed her company. She was one of the few people who never pestered him with questions about his background.

  Even Samantha Crowe had asked about it. Oddly, he might have told her a bit about himself, but by now she would be on her way home.

  Anawak decided to let Stringer sleep and set off on his own. He went in to the station where he stowed a laptop, camera, binoculars, tape-recorder, hydrophone and headphones in a waterproof bag. He placed a cereal bar and two cans of iced tea on top, then headed for the Blue Shark. He let the boat chug leisurely through the lagoon, waiting until the town was behind him before he opened the throttle. The prow rose up in the waves and wind swept into his face, driving the gloomy thoughts from his mind.

  Twenty minutes later he was steering through a group of tiny islands and out on to the silvery-black open sea. The waves rolled in sluggishly, separated by long intervals. He eased off the throttle, and as the coast disappeared, he gazed into the morning light, trying not to succumb to the pessimism that had lately become a habit. Whales had been sighted and not just residents: the humpbacks were migrants, on their way from California or Hawaii.

  Once the boat was far enough out he turned off the engine, opened a can of iced tea, drank it, and sat down with the binoculars.

  It was an age before he spotted anything. Then a dark shape caught his eye, but vanished in a trice. 'Go on, show yourself,' he whispered. 'I know you're out there.'

  He scanned the ocean intently. The minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Then, one after the other, two dark silhouettes rose above the waves at some distance from the boat. A sound like gunfire rang out across the water as two clouds of white spray shot into the air, like breath on a winter's morning.

  Humpback whales.

  Anawak was laughing with joy. Like any competent cetologist, he could identify a whale by its blow – a large one could fill several cubic metres. The air in the lungs would compress, then shoot out at high speed through the narrow holes, expanding and cooling in the atmosphere to form a spray of misty droplets. The shape and size of the blow varied, even within a single species. It depended on the whale's size, the duration of a dive and even the wind. But this time there was no doubt: those bushy clouds of spray were characteristic of the humpback.

  Anawak flipped open the laptop and booted it up. The hard drive contained a database with descriptions of hundreds of whales which regularly passed that way. To the untrained eye the little of the whale visible above the water was scarcely enough to identify the species, let alone the individual, and to make matters worse, the view was often obscured by rough seas, mist, rain or blinding sunshine. But each whale had its own identifying features. The easiest way to tell them apart was by looking at the flukes. When a whale dived, its tail often flicked right out of the water and the underside of each fluke was unique to that animal, differing in pattern, structure and form. Anawak could identify many flukes from memory, but the photos on the laptop helped.

  He was willing to bet that the two whales out there were old friends.

  After a while the black humps resurfaced. First to appear were the blowholes, little raised bumps on top of the head, barely visible among the waves. Then came the firing noise again, followed by two puffs of air, rising in synchrony. This time the whales didn't sink back into the water, but raised their humps high above the waves. Their stumpy dorsal fins came into view, arching slowly through the air, then slicing back into the water. Anawak had a clear view of the whales' backs with their prominent vertebrae. Then they dived again, their flukes rising leisurely out of the water.

  Hurriedly Anawak raised the binoculars for a glimpse of the undersides, but failed. Not to worry. The first commandment of whale-watching was patience, and there was plenty of time before the tourists arrived. He opened the second can of iced tea, unwrapped the cereal bar and took a bite.

  He didn't have long to wait before his
faith was rewarded, and five humps ploughed through the water not far from the boat. Anawak's heart quickened. The whales were close now. Full of anticipation he waited for the flukes. He was so engrossed in the spectacle that he didn't notice the enormous black shadow by the boat. It was only when the creature loomed vertically out of the water, towering above him, that he turned and jumped.

  Instantly he forgot the other humps.

  The whale's head had risen almost silently. Now it was almost touching the boat's rubber hull. Three and a half metres of whale extended upright out of the water, the drooping mouth covered with barnacles and knotty bulges. An eye as big as a human fist stared at him.

  It wasn't the first time Anawak had seen a whale at such close-quarters. On dive trips he'd swum alongside them, stroking and clutching on to them. He'd ridden on them. It wasn't unusual for grey whales, humpbacks or orcas to poke their heads out of the water right next to the Zodiac to look for landmarks or examine the boat.

  But this was different.

  Anawak wasn't sure if he was watching the whale or if it was watching him. The enormous mammal didn't seem interested in the boat. Looking out from under its elephantine lid, the humpback's eye was fixed on him. Beneath the surface, whales had acute vision, but outside their natural element they were damned to short-sightedness by their globular eyes. Close up like that, though, the humpback must be able to see him as clearly as he could see it.

  Slowly, so that he did not frighten it, Anawak stretched out an arm and stroked the smooth, damp skin. The whale showed no sign of wanting to dive. Its eye shifted focus slightly, but returned to him. There was something almost intimate about the scene. As pleased as he was to see the animal, Anawak wondered what it stood to gain from such a lengthy observation. Under normal circumstances a skyhop lasted seconds. It cost a lot of energy to stay vertical like that.

  'Where've you been all this time?' he asked.

  A barely audible splash sounded from the other side of the boat. Anawak swivelled just in time to see another head rising from the water. The second was smaller than the first, but just as close. It, too, fixed Anawak with a black eye.

  What did they want from him?

  Uneasiness crept over him. It wasn't normal for whales to stare fixedly like that. He'd never seen anything like it. All the same he couldn't resist bending down to his bag and fishing out his digital camera. He held it up in the air. 'Now, keep nice and still…'

  Maybe the camera was a mistake. If so, it was the first time in the history of whale-watching that humpbacks had objected to having their picture taken. As if on command, the two enormous heads vanished, like a pair of islands sinking beneath the waves. There were a few quiet gurgling noises, a slurp and some bubbles, then Anawak was alone again on the shimmering sea.

  The sun was rising over the nearby coast. Mist hung over the mountains. The grey water was turning blue.

  Not a whale in sight.

  Anawak released the air from his lungs and stuffed the camera back into the open bag. He was about to pick up the binoculars when he thought better of it. His two new friends couldn't have gone far yet. He pulled out the cassette-recorder, put on the headphones and lowered the hydrophone slowly into the water. The headphones crackled, plunked and droned, but there was nothing to indicate the presence of a whale. Anawak waited, expecting to hear the distinctive call of a humpback, but everything was quiet.

  In the end he hauled the hydrophone back on board.

  Some time later he spotted clouds of spray in the distance, but that was the last he saw of them.

  On the way back to Tofino, he thought about how tourists would have reacted to the spectacle – and how they'd react if it happened again. The news would travel fast. Davie's and their tame whales – they'd be inundated with bookings.

  Fantastic!

  As the Zodiac forged ahead through the still waters of the bay, Anawak stared out at the nearby forest. It was almost too fantastic.

  23 March

  Trondheim, Norway

  Sigur Johanson woke with a start, groped for his alarm-clock, then realised his phone was ringing. Rubbing his eyes and swearing, he hauled himself upright, but his sense of balance eluded him and he fell back on to his pillow. His head was spinning.

  He tried to remember the previous night. They'd stayed out late drinking, he, some colleagues and a few students. They'd only meant to have dinner at Havfruen, a restaurant in a converted wharf warehouse not far from Gamle Bybro, the old town bridge. It served great seafood and some very good wine. Some truly excellent wine, he recalled. From their table next to the window they'd looked out at the Nid, with its jetties pointing upstream and the little boats, and watched the river flow leisurely towards the nearby Trondheim fjord. Someone had started to tell jokes, then Johanson had gone with the owner into the restaurant's dank wine-cellar to inspect the precious vintage bottles…

  He sighed. I'm fifty-six, he told himself, as he pulled himself up again. I shouldn't do this any more.

  The telephone was still ringing. He got to his feet and stumbled into the living room. Was he supposed to be lecturing that morning? He imagined himself standing in front of his students, looking every minute of his age, barely able to stop his chin sagging on to his chest. His tongue felt heavy and furred, disinclined to do anything involving speech.

  When he reached the phone it dawned on him that it was Saturday. His mood improved dramatically. Johanson,' he answered, sounding unexpectedly lucid.

  'You took your time,' said Tina Lund.

  Johanson rolled his eyes and lowered himself into an armchair. 'What time is it?'

  'Half past six.'

  'It's Saturday.'

  'I know it is. Is something wrong? You don't sound too good.'

  I'm not feeling too good. Why the hell are you phoning me at this uncivilised hour?'

  Lund giggled. 'I was hoping to talk you into coming over to Tyholt.'

  'To the institute? For Christ's sake, Tina, why?'

  'I thought we could have breakfast together. It'll be fun. Kare's in Trondheim for a few days, and I know he'd love to see you.' She paused. 'Besides, there's something I want your opinion on.'

  'What?'

  'Not on the phone. So, are you coming or not?'

  'All right, give me an hour,' said Johanson. He yawned expansively, then stopped in case he strained his jaw. 'In fact, give me two. I'll call in at the lab on the way. There might be news on the worms.'

  'Let's hope so. Weird, isn't it? First I was the one making all the fuss, and now it's the other way round. OK, take your time – but don't be too long!'

  'At your service,' Johanson mumbled. Still dizzy, he dragged himself off to the shower.

  Thirty minutes later, he was feeling more alive. Outside, it was sunny and Kirkegata Street was all but deserted. The last piles of snow had melted and as Johanson drove out towards the Gloshaugen campus he was whistling Vivaldi. The university was supposed to be closed at the weekend, but no one paid any attention to the rules: it was the best time to sort your mail and work undisturbed.

  Johanson went to the post-room, rummaged in his pigeon-hole and pulled out a thick envelope. It had been sent from Kiel and almost certainly contained the lab results that Lund was so desperate to see. He stowed it away, unopened, went back to his car and resumed his journey to Tyholt.

  The Institute for Marine Technology, or Marintek, as it was known, had close links with the NTNU, SINTEF and the Statoil research centre. In addition to its collection of simulation tanks and wave tunnels, it also housed the world's biggest artificial ocean-research basin, offering scientists scale-model testing in simulated wind and waves. The Norwegian shelf was covered with floating production systems that had been tested in the eighty-metre-long by ten-metre-deep pool. Two wave machines created miniature currents and storms that seemed terrifyingly powerful. Johanson was pretty sure that Lund would use it to test the underwater unit that she was planning for the slope.

  As he had expected, he
found her at the poolside, talking to some scientists. There was something droll about the scene. Divers were weaving through the blue-green water past Toytown platforms, while miniature tankers floated past lab staff in rowing-boats. It resembled a cross between a toy-shop and a boating party, but it had a serious purpose: the offshore industry needed Marintek's blessing before any new structure could be built.

  Lund spotted him, broke off her conversation and headed over. It meant walking all the way round the pool, which she did at her usual canter.

  'Why not take a boat?' asked Johanson.

  'This isn't the village pond, you know,' she said. 'Everything has to be coordinated. If I ploughed willy-nilly through the basin, hundreds of oil workers would die in the tidal wave.'

  She gave him a peck on the cheek. 'You're all scratchy.'

  'All men with beards are scratchy,' said Johanson. 'It's lucky for you Kare hasn't got one, or you'd have no excuse for picking him instead of me. So, what are you working on? The subsea problem?'

  'As best we can – the basin only lets us simulate realistic conditions for depths of up to a thousand metres.'

  'You don't need to go deeper.'

  'Theoretically, no. But we still like to run through the scenarios on the computer. Sometimes its predictions don't fit the results from the basin, so we keep adjusting the parameters until we get a match.'

  'Shell's looking into building a unit two thousand metres down. It was in the papers yesterday. You've got competition.'

  'I know. Marintek's doing the research for them too. It'll be an even harder nut to crack. Come on, let's get some breakfast.'

  Once they were out in the corridor Johanson said; 'I still don't understand why you can't use a SWOP. Isn't it easier to work on a floating platform and connect it via flexible flowlines?'

  She shook her head. 'Too risky. Floating structures still have to be anchored.'