The submersible was jet-black and shaped like a stealth fighter. No, Atticus thought, like a manta ray. “Ray…”
Atticus walked around the suspended sub and took in the details. The craft was fifteen feet long and twenty at its beam. He slid his finger across the gently sloping tail end—smooth, almost soft to the touch. Two large pump-jet vents protruded from the back, an impressive feature. He moved around to the front. In place of a real ray’s eyes, two glass bubbles, for pilot and copilot, rose out of the smooth surface, providing a 360-degree view from the top of the craft. Each side of the submersible had three small windows. The thing was so aerodynamic it looked like it could fly. “Are there no manipulator arms?”
Trevor met Atticus at the front of the submersible. Suspended above them, they stood at eye level with its underbelly, which like a real manta ray, gleamed white. “The arms are recessed until needed,” Trevor said, pointing out four small hatches, two on each side. “The hatches in the middle house the manipulator arms. The two on the outer extremities hold minitorpedoes.”
Atticus couldn’t hide his surprise. Trevor spoke before he could ask. “You never know what you’ll run into while traversing the deep, wouldn’t you agree? Though I doubt the punch these torpedoes carry would be enough to kill our creature.”
Atticus was impressed. The Navy versions of the submersible were half the size and not nearly as well designed, or armed. What was still in the design and testing phase with the Navy had been perfected by Trevor Manfred for his own personal use.
“What’s the maximum depth?”
“Three thousand feet.” Trevor rocked on his feet, with his hands clutched behind his back. Atticus thought he looked like an excited child showing off a new toy. But he had a right to gloat. Three thousand feet was extremely deep, and with the top of Jeffery’s Ledge ranging between one hundred and two hundred feet, depth would not be an issue.
The captain from the bridge approached Trevor. “Ray is powered up and ready to go.”
Trevor waved the man away with a swoosh of his hand. “Flood the chamber and open the hatch.”
“Yes, sir.” The captain gave a curt nod and headed for the hatch. As he was leaving, O’Shea squeezed past the man and entered the room.
Trevor’s eyes rose to his forehead. “And what, dear Father, do you want?”
“I was hoping to come with you,” O’Shea explained in a voice that Atticus realized was more relaxed than those of the rest of the crew. “I’ve never been down and thought this might be the perfect opportunity.”
“I never knew you were interested in the depths,” Trevor said.
“It is one of God’s creations I have not yet seen firsthand.”
“Ah yes,” Trevor said with a smile, then gesticulating as though he were reciting Shakespeare, added, “And God said, ‘Let the water teem with living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the expanse of the sky.’ So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living and moving thing with which the water teems, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind.” Trevor raised both hands in the air. “And God saw that it was good.”
He bowed, as though taking praise for being able to quote the Bible so fluently. When he stood straight again, his white hair was raised madly, and his eyes were twinkling. Atticus had never met a man so capable of amusing himself.
“And I assure you, Father, it is good. However, this trip is exclusive I’m afraid.” Trevor squinted and scrunched his nose. “Though now I feel I’m forgetting something. Is there another reason for your joining us?”
O’Shea smiled and nodded. “I didn’t want to mention it, but you missed your confession this morning. If something should happen to…go wrong. You will need me to—”
“Yes, yes. Quite right.”
Loud clanks sounded out around the room. Trevor’s orders were always followed and rarely delayed. The grinding of gears and whirring of unseen motors revealed that the hatch would soon be open and the room flooded with water. “Quickly, chop-chop.”
Trevor moved beneath the submersible and pushed a series of buttons. The code was simple, only four buttons. Atticus made a note of them: 2009. It first struck Atticus as a date, the year 2009, but he decided it was coincidence, though it made the number easy to remember. A hatch slid open, and a ladder descended. The three men quickly climbed the ladder and entered the submersible, just as the chamber began flooding with cold ocean water.
The submersible’s interior looked like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise—plush, comfortable, and ultramodern. Like the Titan, Atticus assumed that the sub could pilot itself if need be. Even the manual controls looked ridiculously simple. There was a control stick, like that in a jet fighter, but there were few buttons to worry about and almost no gauges. The screens in front of each chair led him to believe that all the systems were monitored and adjusted by computer. The cabin smelled of leather and warm electronics. The air felt cool and breathable, and, while small, the sub was far from cramped. Trevor directed Atticus to the right-hand chair, which sat beneath one of the glass eyes. Trevor sat beneath the left eye, and O’Shea took one of the two rear seats, which had a view through the side windows.
After Atticus adjusted to the seat, he looked up and found the glass viewing port to be a foot above his head. “Was this thing designed for giants?” he asked.
Trevor smiled and reached his hand over the side. As in a car, each seat had a small control panel. Trevor depressed a button, and his seat rose into the air, bringing his shaggy-haired head within the confines of the glass bubble. Atticus did the same and was happy to see the control stick rise with him.
“I wanted to be able to stand up inside,” Trevor said without offering any other explanation. “If you tire of looking at the ocean from the eye of a manta, there is a concealed front viewing port.”
Atticus twisted from side to side. The mobility and field of view were far beyond those of any submersible he’d ever been in. “No. This is great.” As he spoke, water rose to the lower edge of the window and quickly covered it. He hadn’t even been aware that it was rising.
“When the cables let go,” Trevor said, “don’t touch the controls until we’re in the open ocean. The computer will guide us out.”
A moment later a slight drop signified that they were no longer attached to the support cables. True to Trevor’s word, the submersible came to life and descended through the open floor, into the ocean.
They were immediately greeted by a pair of massive jaws bearing rows of razor-sharp teeth. For a moment, Atticus thought he must be having some kind of hallucination brought on by a subconscious fear of entering the ocean again. But as the bubbles and froth cleared, he could make out the distinct triangular teeth of a shark, a very large great white shark—Laurel.
“Is she a danger to the sub?” Atticus asked.
“Not at all.” Trevor said with a chuckle. “She comes to say hello every time we descend in Ray. I’ll tell you, she’s given many a guest quite the start!”
Laurel circled Ray twice before swimming lazily away. “You see,” Trevor said, “she’s a friendly girl when she wants to be.” Atticus looked at Trevor, whose face was distorted by the two glass bubbles separating them. The way the glass bent and stretched his image made the man look more like a Troll doll than a multibillionaire. When Trevor flashed a wide smile at him, Atticus couldn’t help but laugh.
Trevor’s next words immediately erased his smile. “Take us down, good Ahab! Down, down into the depths to recover the record of the beast that we might glimpse what makes it tick and discover a chink in its armor.”
The jovial tone of Trevor’s theatrics had no effect on Atticus. He was not looking forward to recovering the tape, or seeing the creature again. He would move toward it regardless. Like a meteorite through the galaxy, propelled by forces out of his control, he would not stop until he met an unmovable force and collided with it. Atticus gripped the control stick and thrust it for
ward, sending Ray into a fast dive through the azure depths.
23
Aboard Ray—Beneath the Gulf of Maine
Though his sorrow fought against it, a smile grew on Atticus’s face. He twisted the control stick and took the sleek submersible into a spin. He followed the spin with a twist in the other direction and a loop that brought them toward the ocean’s bright blue surface, then back to the depths.
Atticus hadn’t planned on the joyride, but after feeling the speeds the sub could reach and how easily it handled, he’d started testing its limits. He had yet to find them. It handled like a jet fighter—an amazing jet fighter—underwater.
Trevor bellowed a laugh. He was enjoying himself as well. It wasn’t until O’Shea groaned loudly from the back that Atticus eased up on the controls and slowed. He ducked down out of the bubble and looked back at O’Shea. “You all right back there?”
“Peachy…” O’Shea looked green. “Just, slow down, will you? I’ve never been fond of amusement parks for a reason.”
Trevor was peeking out of his side. “Oh, Father. You can’t tell me that didn’t make you feel alive.”
“God makes me feel alive,” O’Shea said with just a hint of a smile.
“Oh, phooey on you,” Trevor said with a wave of his hand. He looked at Atticus. “And you! When this business is finished, you have a spot on my crew if you’d like it.”
Atticus wasn’t sure what to think of the offer. It was a temptation filled with the prospect of money and adventure, but those things seemed so hollow in the wake of all that had happened and might happen. He’d already considered the idea and imagined he would accept. He liked Trevor, and if he survived the confrontation with the creature, he’d need to do something with his life, no matter how shallow. He nodded his response and returned to the confines of his glass bubble.
The rest of the descent was made in silence and without reaching breakneck speeds. As they neared the seafloor some two hundred feet below, the light from the sun filtered away to a blue so dark that they couldn’t see more than a few feet.
“Trevor,” Atticus said, “this thing has lights, correct? And can you work the manipulator arms once we find the camera?”
Atticus saw Trevor look at him, his troll-shaped face deep in thought through the two glass bubbles. He seemed to be seriously considering something. Then he smiled and saluted. “Aye aye, mon capitaine.”
The ocean became a globe of bright blue as two exterior five-hundred-watt metal halide lights blazed to life, lighting the surrounding area to near-daylight conditions. The seafloor came into view, glowing golden brown under the light. The sandy bottom was pocked with orange cerianthids, burrowing anemones, their jellylike limbs swaying with the ocean currents. Skittering across the sand were several small crabs, fleeing from Ray’s bright lights. Tiny specks of life, known as zooplankton, flittered all around the sub, not even aware of it.
Atticus ignored the life that normally would have enthralled him and set about the task at hand. “I’m going to run a search grid. It will be tedious, but we should find it.”
Trevor nodded his agreement and Atticus pushed the sub forward.
Forty-five minutes later they were rewarded for their efforts. A flicker of reflected light in the distance revealed something on the sandy surface. Atticus wasted no time in approaching the object. He caught his breath, instantly recognizing the camera resting in its protective casing.
As they approached the case, Trevor spoke up. “We’re approaching the edge of the ledge, Atticus. Watch out for upwelling currents.”
Atticus nodded. He’d already noticed the building currents and was working hard to compensate for them. “Just grab the camera.”
Atticus couldn’t see Trevor’s hands working, but he could hear small motors moving within the submersible. Then two mechanical arms gradually reached out from Ray, stretching toward the sunken camera. As Trevor latched both manipulator arms tightly to the camera case handholds, a hiding flounder panicked and burst from the sand, swimming quickly away over the sandy seafloor. The movement brought Trevor’s eyes up from the camera.
He screamed.
A massive shadow rose from the depths beyond the ledge. A creature of undetermined length ascended, its massive mouth held agape.
“Get us out of here!” Trevor shouted, his voice squeaking in fear. “The beast is upon us!”
Atticus laughed hard, grateful for the distraction from the lump that had been forming in his throat since he first laid eyes on the camera. “It’s just a basking shark.”
As the forty-foot shark continued to rise, sucking down and filtering out a cloud of helpless copepods, Trevor slowed his anxious breathing and took in the creature. “A shark. A damn shark! That thing is huge!”
“Basking sharks are the second largest fish in the ocean. The first is the whale shark.”
“But, it’s so big.”
“Trust me,” Atticus said, “when you get your first look at what we’re after, this toothless giant will seem small and gentle. In fact, it makes Laurel look like a sweet little puppy.”
A voice echoed through the cabin, transmitted from the Titan above. “Mr. Manfred! We just picked up something huge on—”
Trevor slid on a headset, flicked it on, and cut the panic-filled voice off. “It’s a shark, you nervous twit. And the next time you let something this big get this close to me without warning; I’ll have your head. Understood?”
“Yes. Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Where is the creature now?”
“Umm, the shark is moving away.”
“Not the shark!” Trevor shouted. “The…the creature. The monster!”
“Oh, it’s ahh…it’s still following the herring. It’s about three miles east of your current position, moving north.”
Trevor switched off the headset and put it down. “Imbeciles.”
Atticus gave one last look at the basking shark as it swam gently away, gobbling up more copepods. Not everything in the ocean is an evil monster, Atticus thought, as a shred of his old self surfaced for a moment. He worked the controls and rather than head directly for the surface, he gave chase to the basking shark. He pulled up next to its head as it lazily swam through the water. As it was illuminated by the bright lights, Atticus could clearly see its brownish coloration, conical snout, and large gill slits. While being far from attractive, a basking shark’s size and smooth glide made it a wonder to behold.
Suddenly its massive jaw snapped shut. The shark hovered for a moment, then, with a speed Atticus thought impossible for one of its kind, turned tail and fled back into the depths beyond the ledge.
Atticus’s body went rigid. “Oh hell.”
Trevor’s eyes were wide. “What?”
Atticus put the submersible at a steep angle and accelerated as fast as he could. A voice, yelling this time, came over the intercom. “It’s coming your way. It just changed course. Holy…It’s fast!”
Trevor switched off the intercom and shouted to Atticus. “Hit the yellow button on the control stick, aim for the Titan’s underside. When we get within twenty feet let go, and the computer will take over.”
Atticus didn’t bother to ask why. He simply flipped up the button’s protective covering and pushed it with his thumb. In the split second before anything happened, he wondered what the green, red, and blue buttons were for. Then they were off. It felt like the beginning of a terrible roller coaster. Atticus felt himself pinned to his seat as the craft reached fifty knots in just a few seconds. He heard O’Shea groan, but he didn’t sound sick.
“Oh, Dear Lord, there it is,” O’Shea said.
Atticus knew O’Shea’s view was out the port side and looked in that direction. He looked past Trevor’s glass bubble and saw a huge shape shifting through the water. At that distance he could only see its dark silhouette, but the up-and-down undulation was unmistakable. If the creature hadn’t been moving past them, in the direction of the basking shark, Atticus might not have look
ed forward. But he did, and in that instant realized they were going to crash headlong into the hull of the Titan.
He let go of the controls and felt the craft shift as the computer immediately took over. Huge jets of bubbles exploded from Ray’s roof. The jets served to correct their angle of approach and slow them down. In seconds, what surely would have been a quick and violent death morphed into a smooth, gliding ascent. They rose smoothly into the confines of Ray’s bay.
With their safety assured, Trevor lowered his seat. Atticus followed suit and met his eyes. Trevor was near tears and his skin paler than usual. “It was beautiful,” he said, wiping wetness away from his eyes with his black sleeve. “I simply must have it.”
O’Shea spoke from the back. His voice was quivering with fear, not holding an iota of Trevor’s excitement. “Are you sure that is wise? This…this creature might be out of even your league.”
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…” Trevor started.
“I shall fear no evil,” Atticus finished.
O’Shea gave a nervous smile. “Except for that thing.”
24
Coast Guard Cutter—Gulf of Maine
Andrea stood on Coast Guard cutter’s deck feeling more alone than ever. Most of the crew had lost interest in the Titan and the men still fishing—incessantly fishing—off the back of the giant ship. But she found herself locked to the top deck of the cutter, unable to leave. She knew the crew suspected there was more to her obsession with Trevor Manfred than she’d explained, but short of lying to them, she couldn’t change that perception. It was the truth.
She raised the binoculars to her eyes and scanned the Titan again. Except for the men fishing off the stern, there was no movement. Nothing at all. She scanned the men at the back of the boat, watching them cast their lines into the ocean, searching for a fuzzy white-mopped head of hair. Nothing. Trevor had been missing in action all day.
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