by Greig Beck
“Arthur, now you.” Jackson helped Arty get one trunk-like leg up on the gunwale, and between he and Philippe they managed to get him wedged into the cage.
Jackson sat astride the gunwale, and one of the deck hands handed him a three-foot fish – it was a fresh tuna, sliced open and starting to drip deep red blood onto the deck. Jackson groaned under its weight. A natural fiber rope was tied around its tail, and he lowered into the cage, for Philippe. Jackson then opened a dive pocket on his vest, and felt for the waterproof tracker. In a moment he saw the orange blip – a mile out and three hundred feet down, but closing – good.
He pulled his facemask down and turned to give his crew a wave, before sliding in through the cage door. He closed it, and went to the cage’s winch controls and pressed the red button to take them down – they immediately began to be lowered into even darker water. Time was racing them now, and Betty had been known to rise up, not see them, and then turn tail, as if worried about the coming sunlight. The last thing Jackson wanted was to have to suffer their rich fool passenger one minute longer than necessary.
The cage gently lowered. The deck spotlights that were angled down into the water created a giant halo around the boat, but as they sank below the hull it quickly became dark with just a blush of light coming from above. Philippe’s camera was loaded with light-sensitive film, and the lenses could be relied on to provide excellent depth, but still, they needed Betty to be as close as they could get her.
At twenty feet, Jackson stopped their descent and floated closer to Arty, and gently took hold of him, pulling him close so he could look into his eyes. They were wide, and he could immediately tell he was sucking oxygen too fast. Good grief, Jackson thought, what was he going to be like when a twenty-plus foot behemoth came out of the shadowy depths? He’d fill his damn wetsuit. He tapped the man on the head and gave him a thumbs-up. Arty nodded and returned the gesture.
He supposed it didn’t master if he chewed through his oxygen in half the time; after all they had enough air for an hour, and they should only be down for twenty minutes if Betty was on time. Jackson floated back to the controls and started them down again, the electronic whine of the winches a background hum as they were lowered to their destination depth of forty feet below the keel.
Once they settled, Philippe positioned his lights and switched them all on. Spots at each corner of the cage illuminated a massive halo around them for a good fifty feet in all directions. Jackson took the tuna and lashed it to the bars of the cage. When Betty came in for her breakfast, he’d cut it loose. Though the inch-thick titanium bars could stop a freight train, he didn’t fancy the idea of having five thousand pounds of shark getting tangled in their overhead cabling.
Jackson breathed slowly. The sound of his escaping bubbles, and the occasional bump or knock from the boat above, and there was nothing else. Philippe was ready on the camera and Arty was gripping the bars with both hands and looked frozen with fear.
Jackson grinned around his mouthpiece, not believing he actually got paid to do this. He loved this moment – the anticipation, the utter darkness beyond their halo of light, and the unknown depths below them. The three of them were small alien creatures that had descended to another planet to observe the weird and wonderful life forms. He brought out the tracker. Betty was around but seemed to be keeping her distance.
He pulled out his clicker, and began to snap it, making a popping sound under the water. It usually brought her up fast, but today she seemed a little skittish. Rising up, but then darting off, or heading back down.
Come on, my big darling. Jackson clicked it again, and was relived to see the blip on his tracker begin to change direction and rise. She was coming up from the south, and he tapped Arty on the shoulder and pointed out into the blue-black water.
She usually came in slow, her massive body seeming to glide or float from the depths. The shark would circle them, passing by several times before judging all was in order, and then come in fast to take her prize.
Beside him Arty started to jostle Philippe who was trying to hike his camera a little higher. And then, from out of the deepest shadows the familiar torpedo shape appeared.
He grinned, feeling the thrill pass through his entire body. She never failed to instill awe, and a little primal fear. Her girth was astronomical, as wide around as a draft horse, and everyone knew she had to be pregnant. It must have been why she would accept easy meals from cumbersome little human beings in a cage, and not have to try and chase anything down. But today, strangely, instead of gliding in, she moved fast, shooting by them so quickly, they all felt the current rock the cage.
Jackson pulled back, spinning to watch her go by. He turned to Philippe who shrugged and shook his head – no shot. At least Arty seemed happy, and he tapped Jackson on the shoulder and gave him a double thumbs-up.
Betty came back, once again, travelling at speed. She came a little closer this time, and he could see the recognizable scars from either netting or fights with other denizens of the deep. On her back, just behind her massive dorsal fin there was a small pad with two exposed wires affixed that looked like some sort of shrimp had attached itself to the huge shark’s body. It was this that transmitted Betty’s every move to Jackson and marine biologists everywhere in the world.
Betty came back fast, her tail flicking now. The creature was obviously agitated by something, and Jackson looked up briefly at the boat to make sure someone wasn’t doing something out of the ordinary.
Philippe tried to follow her with his camera, but soon lowered it, and turned to him shrugging and shaking his head. Shit – it’d be impossible to get anything meaningful in the frame if she was going to move so quickly. And no picture, meant no twenty-five grand from Arty-Farty.
Jackson pulled out his dive knife and made a few more slits in the tuna’s body before letting it out another dozen feet, hoping that seeing the solitary fish further out might at least slow her down. Come on, he urged. The scent trail from the bleeding fish should have created a floating highway a mega predator should have found impossible to ignore.
He hit the red button, and lowered them another ten feet to hold at a depth of fifty. Then, as he hoped, Betty swam through the cloud and blood particles, and found it irresistible. Hunger and instinct overriding any other sensations she was feeling. She turned and slowed. Jackson saw Philippe was already rolling, and he grabbed and pushed Arty close to the bars so he was in the shot.
The big shark approached the tuna, and its massive mouth opened. The maw was big enough to nearly take in the three-foot tuna in one bite. He always wondered what it would be like for those teeth to clamp down on you – he guessed, like several dozen blades attached to an industrial press closing over you.
Betty’s jaws extended and she gripped the fish, and tugged at it, but immediately spat it out. Jackson’s brow furrowed behind his mask.
What the fuck is wrong with y…
The behemoth rose from the darkness, and grabbed Betty in exactly the same manner he had expected her to grip the tuna. The massive head, with possibly ten-foot wide jaws now extended forward, snapped down on Betty’s torso and first crushed and then sawed at her body as it shook its head like a massive hound.
Jackson screamed into his mouthpiece. Beside him Philippe had dropped his camera and had moved to the back of the cage. In front, Arty seemed to be doing a little dance like he was receiving an electric shock.
The water was suddenly full of blood. Just visible, was Betty’s head, little more than the jaws and gill slits, now tumbling free. Betty’s mouth gaped wide like she was trying to draw a breath, and as the damage had occurred so quickly, he wondered whether she even knew what had happened.
Jackson’s mind refused to process what he had seen. Something, maybe a shark, some sort of whale, or some other sea monster had erupted from below, and cleaved his twenty-one-foot shark in two with a single bite.
A fist punched down hard on his shoulder, and he screamed again, spinning to se
e Arty’s red face behind his goggles. He looked like he was screaming something – Jackson didn’t need to know what it was. He pushed himself to the cage controls, and immediately punched the green button to lift the cage.
Jackson looked up and saw that his boat seemed to be miles above him, and he wished now he hadn’t dropped them that extra few feet lower. The lights of the boat were obscured and they lifted through a dark red haze. Impossibly, a scream and rush of bubbles dragged his head around. Philippe had climbed to the top of the cage, drawing his legs up, and facing down. His eyes almost filled his facemask. Jackson’s head snapped down.
Rising into the range of the lights was a vision straight from hell. He knew what it was now, a shark, but of such monstrous proportions it defied belief. The monster came with its jaws already open, and the gullet behind those long daggers seemed bottomless. It came for its next meal. Them.
The shark exploded into the titanium cage, ripping it from its cables, and launching it and itself from the water. In the air now, Jackson had a brief image of his boat, and the deck hands, the captain, and behind them, the morning sun. It was if time moved at one-quarter speed. The men on deck were frozen in place with their eyes wide and mouths hung open, as the monster from the deep hung in the air, metal cage in its mouth, and three men still trapped inside, before falling back into the dark water to create a wave that nearly swamped the boat.
It took them down rapidly, and as it travelled, its jaws began to compress, and the titanium bars, formidable against most anything under the ocean began to crumple. There were furious bubbles and movements from his two colleagues, and a feeling of intense pain in their heads as they began to move into very deep water.
Jackson found himself crushed to the top of one side of the cage, with Philippe and Arty on the other. Ten-inch shovel-sized teeth gripped them, and behind it there was nothing but blackness and, Jackson knew, death.
Without thinking, Jackson’s self-preservation instincts kicked in. He pushed upwards, the cage trapdoor flipping open, and he slipped through. Jackson dropped his weight belt and in a single motion looked back. In the glare of Philippe’s shrinking camera light he saw his friend, arm out through the bars and behind him, the fatter silhouette of Arty, just before they and the monster vanished into the fathomless depths.
CHAPTER 33
Cate watched Jack pace, phone to his ear and a face like thunder. He grunted occasionally as he listened.
“Cate’s here,” he said. “I’m opening this up on speaker for her to listen as well. You can repeat what you told me.” He set the phone down on the table setting it to speaker mode. “It’s Vince.” He straightened, folding his arms.
Cate heard an exasperated sigh.
“Cate, how you doing?”
“Vincent, we’re okay here; what news have you got?” she said, as Jack sat beside her.
“You guys were right; the Coast Guard don’t regard it as their problem. Fact is, I don’t think they even see it as a problem at all.” He sighed again. “This thing is such an efficient killer it’s leaving no bodies, no residue, no… proof.”
“We’ve got eyewitnesses. Have you heard about Big Betty down in Baja? Took out a dive team, and the thing breached – everyone on deck saw it.” Cate leant forward on her knees.
“Yes, just saw the reports. But that’s at the other end of the coastline, and in Mexican waters – well out of our jurisdiction. Once again, we got an eyewitness, and guess what? He went in the water with a camera, and came out with a heart condition and no camera. We still got nothing.” There was the sound of a squeaking chair as if Vincent was sitting back. “Sorry guys, but Coast Guard has handballed it to the FWS.”
“Seriously?” Cate scoffed. “The Fish and Wildlife Services?” She felt her face go hot. “To do what? Try for a tag and release?”
Jack held up an open hand waving her down a few degrees. “The thing is, Vince, I’m as supportive of sharks and sea life as any other Ichthyologist. But this thing is an abnormality in these waters, or any modern waters. It’ll make shipping impossible for however long it lives, and by the way that could be many more decades, or even centuries, for all we know. And I haven’t even mentioned the cost to human lives.”
“I know, I know. I needed you with me, and I should have goddamn made sure you came. Thought I could handle it…” There came a sound like a fist coming down on a desk. “I fucked it up.”
Jack shook his head. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, buddy. Even if you managed to locate the Megalodon, you still had the odds stacked against you. It might never have surfaced, or when it did, it might have been a hundred miles away.”
Vince groaned. “So, now what?”
Jack looked to Cate. “We still need to go after it. This thing is only just staking out its territory. Once it does, sea travel in anything under a hundred feet will be at an end.”
“I agree; but I’ve seen the size of the thing, Jack. If you go out in The Heceta, I’ll be scooping up its kindling in a week.” Vincent voice lowered. “What you’ll need is some sort of submarine, right?”
“No goddamn way.” Cate was on her feet. “I agree we need to go after the thing, but there is no way I, and for that matter you, Mr Jack Monroe, are ever going below the surface while that thing is down there.”
Jack exhaled. “We need help.” He frowned and then sat forward, to start tapping keys on his computer tablet.
“That’s it, Jack; I’m out of ideas. The Coast Guard has dropped this one onto the pubic servants, and not for a New York second is there a chance the Navy is going to pick up any slack.”
Cate sat forward. “Vincent, what does Fish and Wildlife have?”
“Hardware?” Vincent snorted. “A few small cruisers, open topped boats, plenty of dinghies, and a truckload of goodwill to man and beast. Just enough to get themselves all killed. Bottom line; we won’t find it, until it decides it wants to find us.”
“Good grief.” Cate sat back. “We’ve got nothing.”
“No,” Jack said, finishing his typing. “We’ve got more than we could ever hope to have.” He grinned, as he let the silence stretch. Cate frowned but her lips began to curve into a smile.
“Well?” She tilted her head.
“C’mon buddy, we need some good news,” Vincent said. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“I think I’ve got some – the report from Jackson Biggs, the marine biologist. He said the Megalodon came out of very deep water just off Guadalupe Island and took Big Betty whole.” Jack still grinned.
“That’s right.” Vincent’s voice exuded impatience. “So it proves the old maxim – what do big predators fear? Even bigger predators. How is that good news?”
“But that’s a good thing, you see, because Big Betty was tagged. Its tracking frequency was available online for you to follow her movements via the Sharkwatch App. No one has thought to check whether it was still active.”
“Oh my god.” Cate’s mouth dropped open. “But you did, didn’t you?”
Jack grinned. “Oh yeah, just then, and guess what? Surprise, surprise, the beacon is still active, and it’s moving. Last I checked it was over the edge of continental shelf. Our Megalodon is patrolling its new turf.”
“You clever sonofabitch, Monroe.” Vincent sounded like he rocked back in his chair. “Holy fucking hell – sorry Cate – we can find and track that big bastard.” He whooped.
Cate’s phone rang, and she looked briefly at it, frowned, and walked away.
Jack’s watched her go for a moment, before Vincent dragged his attention back.
“So what next, Jack?”
Jack’s forehead creased. “Well, I’m afraid tracking it is only part of our problem. Sure, we can track it, but then what?” He stood. “We can’t make something two thousand feet down come to the surface, and believe me, no one should go down there after it.”
Cate rejoined him a puzzled expression on her face.
“What’s up?” he asked.
She held up her phone. “That was Sonya Borashev. She’s invited us to a meeting. Says we seem to have a problem she might be able to help with.”
Jack held the phone back to his ear. “Vince, like I said, this is where we’ll need help.” He grinned at Cate. “And I think we have just the party in mind.”
CHAPTER 34
Cate and Jack sat in deep leather chairs in the foyer of the gleaming silver spire of the Mironov Tower. Cate occasionally pointed out different objects of art to Jack who stared in wonder at all the gleaming marble, chrome, and glass.
“I feel underdressed,” he whispered. “In fact, I feel like a country bumpkin who’s just stumbled into the big smoke.”
Cate reached across to squeeze his forearm. “It’s fine, darling. Just don’t sip your moonshine or try and speak, and no one will know you’re a little slow.” She grinned and sat back.
Jack made his eyes go cross-eyed and leaned towards her. “I’ll try not to scare the purdy lady, Miss Granger, ma’am.” He sat back, his face becoming serious. “So, Sonya, she took Valery being killed, badly, huh?”
“Yeah.” Cate leaned closer to him, and lowered her voice. “I have a feeling she and Valery had something going on. She was deeply affected by his death.”
Jack nodded. “Good to know.” He looked around. “I’m guessing she got over it pretty quickly, after she learned he left her everything.”
Cate shrugged. “Would have helped.”
“Ms Granger?”
Cate turned to the receptionist, who smiled benignly. “Someone is coming down for you now.”
“Thank you.” Cate got to her feet, straightening her dress. Jack also rose beside her. She turned and looked him over briefly. “And you behave.”
“I’ll be my normal charming self.” He half bowed.
She rolled her eyes, and turned to the elevator doors just as they opened. It wasn’t Sonya Borashev, as she expected, but instead a tall man, with a face that looked carved from stone, and a jaw she could have cracked walnuts on.
