The Swarm

by Frank Schätzing

  'But they'll die if they stay here. We won't he able to help them.'

  'I know. It's terrible. But we've got to think about everyone else. From now on, I want New York to be an island.'

  'How am I supposed to do that?' Peak sounded desperate. 'The East River flows inland.'

  'We'll think of something. But in the meantime…'

  Peak didn't hear the explosion: he felt it. The ground shook beneath his feet. There was a muffled rumble and Manhattan trembled in the shock waves, as though there'd been an earthquake.

  'Something's exploded,' said Peak.

  'Find out what it is. I'll expect your report in ten minutes.'

  Peak ran to the window, but there was no sign of trouble. He signalled to his men, and hurried out of the room, back along the corridor and towards the rear of the hospital, where there was a view across Franklin Drive and the East River towards Brooklyn and Queens.

  He looked left, following the river upstream.

  People were running towards the hospital. About a kilometre away he saw an enormous mushroom rising in the sky. It was hovering above the site of the United Nations headquarters. At first Peak was afraid that the building had exploded. Then he realised that the source of the cloud was closer than he'd thought.

  It was billowing from the entrance to the Queens Midtown Tunnel, which crossed beneath the East River and connected Manhattan to the opposite bank.

  The tunnel was on fire.

  Peak thought of all the cars that littered the city – the pile-ups on the roads, the vehicles that had collided with shop-fronts or streetlights. He thought of all the drivers who'd collapsed at the wheel. He didn't need to be told what had happened in that tunnel, and it couldn't have happened at a worse time.

  They ran back into the building, through the foyer, heading for the jeep, their movements hampered by the protective clothing, but somehow Peak managed to swing himself over the side of the vehicle and they accelerated away.

  Three storeys above them, Bo Henson, the deliveryman who'd done battle with FedEx, passed away.

  The Hoopers had already been dead for hours.

  VANCOUVER ISLAND, Canada

  'So why Whistler? What are you doing there?'

  It was supposed to be an excursion back to normality, but so far it was nothing of the kind. For the first time in days Anawak was sitting in Davie's Whaling Station, talking to Shoemaker and Delaware, who were draining a couple of cans of Heineken in his honour. Davie had closed the Station until further notice. His land-based expeditions had failed to catch on. The idea of watching animals held no appeal. If the whales had turned against humanity, who could trust bears? Besides, there was no telling what the Pacific might spring on them, now that Europe had been flattened by waves. Most tourists had abandoned the island already. As Davie's manager, Shoemaker was taking care of the Station on his own, trying to keep the place afloat by calling in old debts. 'I'd give anything to know what you're up to,' he repeated.

  Anawak shook his head. 'It's no use bugging me, Tom. I promised to keep my mouth shut. Can't we talk about something else?'

  'Why can't you just tell me? It must be a really big deal if-'

  'Tom…'

  'The thing is, Leon, I'd like to know when to get the hell out of here,' he said, 'in view of the tsunamis and so on.'

  'Who said anything about tsunamis?'

  'We don't need you and your fancy committee to tell us what's going on. People aren't stupid, you know. Ships are capsizing, people are dying in Europe, and now we're hearing horror stories about a plague in New York.' He leaned forward and winked. 'What do you say, Leon? The two of us, we saved those people from the Lady Wexham, didn't we? Come on, buddy, I'm with you guys – one of the gang, part of the team.'

  Delaware took a sip of beer and wiped her mouth. 'Oh, stop pestering him. If he can't tell us, he can't tell us, OK?'

  She was wearing a new pair of glasses with round orange-tinted lenses. She must have done something to her hair, thought Anawak. It had lost its frizziness and swept her shoulders in silky waves. In fact, even with her oversized teeth, she looked pretty. Really pretty.

  Shoemaker raised his hands, then let them drop back helplessly. 'You guys should sign me up too. I mean it, Leon. I could he useful. And it would sure heat sitting around here and wiping the dust off the guidebooks.'

  Anawak didn't feel comfortable about being so secretive. The role didn't suit him. He'd kept quiet about his own life for so many years that any kind of secrecy was beginning to get on his nerves. It occurred to him to tell them the truth, but then he remembered the look in Li's eyes. She always seemed friendly and supportive, yet Anawak sensed that she'd be seriously angry if she found out.

  He glanced around the office. All of a sudden he realised how distant the Station had become in the short time he'd been away. This wasn't his life any more. So much had changed since he'd patched things up with Greywolf He felt as if something decisive was about to happen; something that would turn his life upside-down. It was like being a kid on a roller-coaster – it had started moving, and he couldn't get out. The fear and horror were tinged with an indescribable sense of elation and expectation. The Station had been a kind of wall around him, but now he felt as though he was in the open and everything was bearing down on him with an intensity he wasn't accustomed to – too loud and too bright.

  'Well, you're going to have to keep on dusting those guidebooks,' he said. 'You know as well as I do that your place is here, not with a bunch of scientists who'd never let you get a word in edgeways. Besides, Davie would be lost without you.'

  'Was that supposed to be motivating?' Shoemaker asked.

  'Why should I have to motivate you? I'm the one who's been told to keep my mouth shut and not talk to my friends. Why don't you try to motivate me?'

  Shoemaker twisted the beer can in his hands. Then he grinned. 'How long can you stay?'

  'As long as I like,' said Anawak. 'They're treating us like kings. We've got our own private helicopter service, day and night. I only have to call, and they'll be here to pick me up.'

  'You're getting the full royal treatment, huh?'

  'Well, they do expect us to work for it. In fact, strictly speaking, I should he working right now, in Nanaimo or at the aquarium or wherever – but I wanted to see you.'

  'You can work here too, if you have to. OK, I'll motivate you. Come round to dinner tonight. You'll have a big fat steak to look forward to, and I'll fry it myself. It'll taste like pure heaven.'

  'Sounds good,' said Delaware. 'What time?'

  Shoemaker gave her a funny look. 'I'm sure I'll have room for one extra,' he said.

  Delaware frowned. Anawak wondered what was going on, but promised Shoemaker he'd be there at seven. It was time for them to get moving. Shoemaker headed over to Ucluelet for a meeting with Davie, while Anawak set off down the high street in the direction of his boat, glad to have Delaware to talk to. She might be a pain in the butt but, somehow, he'd missed her.

  'What was all that about?' he asked.

  'What?'

  'You know, about dinner tonight. I got the impression that Tom wasn't too keen on you bringing a friend.'

  She fiddled with a strand of hair and scratched her nose. 'I guess there've been a few changes since you went away. I mean, life's full of surprises, isn't it? Sometimes you can't even believe it yourself.'

  Anawak stopped in his tracks. 'Go on, then.'

  'Well, the day you went to Vancouver – you disappeared overnight and never came back! No one knew where you were, and a few people got worried. And one of those people was, uh…Jack. So Jack called me up – well, actually, he wanted to talk to you, but you weren't there, and so…'

  'Jack?' asked Anawak.

  'Yes.'

  'Greywolf? Jack O'Bannon?'

  'He said you'd had a chat,' Delaware continued hastily. 'And I guess it must have been a positive chat. Or, at least, he was pleased about it, and he just wanted to, um, talk to you some more…'
She looked him in the eye. 'It – was a good chat, wasn't it?'

  'Well, what if it wasn't?'

  'That would be a bit awkward because, you see…'

  'OK, fine. Jack and I had a good chat. All right? If you've finished tying yourself in knots, maybe you could get to the point.'

  'We're going out,' she said quickly.

  Anawak's mouth opened and closed again.

  'He drove up to Tofino – I'd given him my number because I thought he was kind of cool … I mean, well, you know I always had a kind of sympathy for his point of view, and…'

  Anawak tried to stay serious. 'A kind of sympathy. Well, yes, of course.'

  'So he came over. And we had a drink at Schooners, and then we went down to the jetty. He told me all kinds of things about himself, and I told him a bit about myself And you know how it is – we talked and talked and then… out of the blue… Well, you can guess the rest.'

  Anawak grinned. 'And Shoemaker isn't happy.'

  'He hates Jack!'

  'I know. And you can't blame him either. Just because Greywolf has taken a liking to us – well, you in particular – doesn't change the fact that he behaved like an asshole. I mean, let's be honest here: he behaved like an asshole for years. He is an asshole.'

  'No more than you are,' she blurted out.

  Anawak nodded. Then in spite of all the wretchedness in the world, he laughed. He laughed about Delaware's awkward explanation, about his grudge against Greywolf, which had really been anger at the loss of a friend, and at himself He laughed so hard that it hurt.

  Delaware cocked her head. 'What's so funny?'

  'You're right,' chuckled Anawak.

  'What do you mean, I'm right? Are you feeling OK?'

  His hilarity was edging towards hysterics, and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like this – if he ever had. 'Licia, you're priceless,' he said, between gasps. 'You're so darned right. We're assholes. Absolutely! And you're seeing Greywolf Oh, man, I can't believe it.'

  Her eyes narrowed. 'You're laughing at me.'

  'No, no, I'm not,' he spluttered.

  'Oh, yes, you are.'

  'I swear I'm not. It's just-' Suddenly he thought of something and his laughter dried up. 'Where's Jack at the moment?'

  'I don't know.' She shrugged. 'At home, maybe.'

  'Jack's never at home. I thought you two were together now?'

  'For God's sake, Leon, we haven't got married. We're just having a hit of fun. I don't keep tabs on him.'

  'No,' murmured Anawak. 'He wouldn't like that anyway.'

  'Do you want to speak to him?'

  'Yes.' He put his hands on her shoulders. 'OK, listen to me. I've got a few things to sort out, but try to find him, would you, Licia? Before dinner, if you can. We don't want Shoemaker going off his food. Tell him I – I'd be pleased to see him. No, I'd love to see him right now.'

  Delaware smiled uncertainly. 'OK… Men are weird – I mean, honestly. And you two are just as weird as each other.'

  ANAWAK WENT ON BOARD HIS BOAT, checked his post and dropped in at Schooners, where he got himself a coffee and talked to the locals. During his absence, two men had died. They'd defied the regulations and gone to sea in a canoe. In less than ten minutes, a pack of orcas had capsized them. The remains of one man had been washed ashore later, but there was no trace of the other, and no one felt like looking.

  'And they don't give a damn about it,' said one of the fishermen, referring to the ferries, freighters, factory trawlers and warships. He was drinking his beer with the bitterness of one who was convinced he'd found the guilty party, and nothing was going to stop him laying the blame at their door. He looked at Anawak, as though expecting confirmation.

  But that's where you're wrong, Anawak felt like saying. The big ships weren't faring any better. He kept quiet. He wasn't allowed to mention the other incidents, and the residents of Tofino saw only their corner of the world.

  'They're probably laughing up their sleeves,' the old man grumbled. 'Those big fishing companies had the monopoly already. First they gobble up our stocks, and now they mop up what's left, while regular fishermen like me have to sit and watch.' He took a swig of his beer. 'We should shoot those damn whales. We need to show them who's boss.'

  It was the universal refrain. Ever since he'd arrived in Tofino, Anawak had been confronted with the same demand: kill the whales. The frustrated fisherman had hit the nail on the head – the fishing grounds were only accessible to the largest factory trawlers, which gave ammunition to those who'd always agitated against the International Whaling Commission, fishing quotas and hunting bans.

  Anawak paid for his coffee and went back to the station. The office was empty. He settled down behind the counter, switched on the computer and started to search the web for military applications of marine-mammal research. It was a tedious process. Back at the Chateau, they had access to all the information they needed, but the public network kept crashing, thanks to the problems with deep-sea cables.

  He soon found the official website of the US Navy Marine Mammal Program. It couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know – every half-decent investigative journalist had written dozens of articles on the subject – but before long he had found information on a military programme in the former Soviet Union. During the Cold War, a large number of dolphins, sea-lions and belugas had been taught to find mines and retrieve lost torpedoes. According to the Internet, they'd been deployed to defend Soviet warships in the Black Sea. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, they had been transferred to an oceanarium in Sebastopol on the Crimean peninsula, where they'd performed tricks until their new owners ran out of cash for the vet bills and food. Some of the dolphins had ended up in therapy centres for children with autism. Others were sold to Iran, where the trail went dead, prompting the suspicion that their military career had continued elsewhere.

  Marine mammals seemed to be making a comeback in strategic warfare. During the Cold War, the arms race had taken a new direction, with America and the Soviet Union each trying to create the most efficient sea-mammal fleet. After the dissolution of the USSR, the world was no safer; already the conflict between Israel and Palestine was spinning out of control and a new generation of terrorists was emerging, capable of sabotaging American warships. Underwater mines were being laid, projectiles went missing, and expensive weaponry sank to the bottom of the ocean and had to be retrieved. It was a job at which dolphins, sealions and belugas proved far more adept than any human or robot: tests showed that a dolphin could find a mine twelve times faster than a diver. Sealions at naval bases in Charleston and San Diego had a ninety-five per cent success rate at detecting torpedoes. Humans operating underwater couldn't see where they were going and had to spend hours in a decompression chamber afterwards, but marine mammals were working in their element. Sea-lions had good vision even when the light was weak. Dolphins could navigate in total darkness by using sonar, giving off a volley of clicks, whose echo they measured with amazing precision to detect the location and shape of any object. Marine mammals could dive dozens of times a day to depths of several hundred metres without tiring. Millions of dollars' worth of divers, vessels, crews and equipment could be replaced by a small fleet of dolphins. And the animals nearly always came back. In thirty years, the US Navy had lost just seven dolphins.

  The American marine-mammal training programme was still going strong and there were indications that animals were being used again in Russia for military purposes. The Indian Army had begun a breeding and training programme. Similar initiatives had been launched in the Middle East.

  Did that mean Vanderbilt was right?

  Anawak was convinced that scouring the depths of the web would turn up details that went unmentioned on the US Navy's website. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of military attempts to subjugate whales and dolphins to full human control. The programme was based on neural research of the kind conducted by John Lilly. Armed forces
all over the world were interested in echo-location, a sonar system that outperformed anything man had invented and that still hadn't been fully understood. There were indications that experiments had taken place in recent years that went beyond the bounds of what was publicly acceptable.

  But the web refused to tell him anything. For three full hours it maintained its silence until Anawak was on the point of giving up. His eyes hurt, and his enthusiasm and concentration had sunk so low that he almost missed the short article by Earth Island Journal when it appeared on the screen: 'Did US Navy Order Dolphin Deaths?' The quarterly journal was published by Earth Island Institute, an environmental organisation committed to bringing new ideas to the conservation movement. It ran a variety of campaigns. The journal's staff were heavily involved in the climate debate and had uncovered some serious environmental scandals. A large part of their work was focused on preserving life in the oceans and protecting whales.

  The article referred back to an incident that had occurred in the early 1990s when sixteen dead dolphins had been washed ashore in the French Mediterranean. The corpses were all marked with the same mysterious wound – a fist-sized hole on the underside of the neck, through which the lower cranium was exposed. At the time, investigators were unable to explain the presence of the marks, but there was no doubt that the injuries had caused the dolphins' deaths. The episode had taken place against the backdrop of the first crisis in the Gulf, when fleets of American warships were crossing the Mediterranean. The Earth Island article suggested a link to a classified programme of experiments that was rumoured to have been carried out by the US Navy at around the same time. By all accounts, the experiments had failed to achieve their expected success, forcing those involved to conceal the programme's existence. 'Something had gone badly wrong,' an expert had told the journal.

  Anawak printed the article and searched through the journal's archive, hoping to find more leads. He was so immersed in what he was doing that he barely heard the Station door opening. It was only when a shadow fell over the screen that he looked up.