THE COMPLETE COCOON TRILOGY
Including
Cocoon (Book I of the COCOON Trilogy)
Metamorphosis: The COCOON Story Continues
(Book II of the COCOON Trilogy)
Butterfly: Tomorrow’s Children
(Book III of the COCOON Trilogy)
by
David Saperstein
Other books by David Saperstein
Cocoon – Book I of The Cocoon Trilogy
Metamorphosis: The Cocoon Story Continues – Book II of The Cocoon Trilogy
Butterfly: Tomorrow’s Children – Book III of The Cocoon Trilogy
Fatal Reunion
Red Devil
Dark Again
(With George Samerjan)
A Christmas Visitor
A Christmas Passage
(With James J. Rush)
A Christmas Gift
COCOON
Book I of The COCOON Trilogy
A Novel
by
David Saperstein
COCOON
Book I of The COCOON Trilogy
All Rights Reserved © 1985 by David Saperstein
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.
The quote from an article by Robert Jastrow which appeared in Natural History magazine, and is used by permission.
Published by Ebbets Field Productions, Ltd.
Cover Design by John Jay Moore
Cover art by Alexandra Rutsch
Originally published by Jove Books/Berkley Putnam Publishing Group
DEDICATION
To
My dear wife Ellen-Mae, my son Ivan and my daughter Ilena for their love and patience
and
To my dear brother Bert, who always encouraged and believed.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Michael Hertzberg
David Field
Gary M Snyder, MD, FACS
Melinda Jason
Susan Schulman
Aunt Lillian Eisen
Sara Camilli
John Silbersack
Rachel Mosner
Ivan Saperstein
Elizabeth Saperstein
Ellen Saperstein
John Jay Moore
Alexandra Rutsch
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE: A STRANGE CHARTER
CHAPTER TWO: CARGO FROM THE STONES
CHAPTER THREE: ANTARES QUAD THREE
CHAPTER FOUR: CONDO HUNTERS
CHAPTER FIVE: DOCKING
CHAPTER SIX: BEN AND THE POOL
CHAPTER SEVEN: A PLANET OUTSIDE IN
CHAPTER EIGHT: AFTER THE EMPTY NEST
CHAPTER NINE: A ROOM OF COLORS
CHAPTER TEN: THE ACTOR, THE AD MAN AND THE POOL
CHAPTER ELEVEN: ROSE’S TEARS
CHAPTER TWELVE: PROCESSING BEGINS
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A MAN FROM BROOKLYN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: LADY ON THE LADDER
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: COMPLICATIONS OF LOVE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE SECRET IN BUILDING B
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: A HELPER IS HELPED
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: WHAT HAPPENED TO US?
CHAPTER NINETEEN: LOVE IN THE AFTERNOON
CHAPTER TWENTY - CONFUSED WIVES
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: SOMETHING’S VERY DIFFERENT
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE ANTARES CONDO BASE
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: CONFUSED WOMEN AND JOYFUL MEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: ON THE RADIO PHONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: PARMANS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: MEMORIES AND REVELATIONS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: DISCOVERIES AT THE DOCK AND POOL
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: WHO ARE YOU?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: FOREVER CHANGED
CHAPTER THIRTY – WHO’S WATCHING WHO?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: A TRIP TO FOREVER
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: TO REPLACE AN ARMY
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: SPYING AND CONVERSATIONS OVERHEARD
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: A FOREVER DECISION
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: CONFRONTATION AND QUESTIONS
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: THE NEGOTIATION
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: MAGIC TRICKS
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: WE ARE ANTAREANS
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: THE FIRST RECRUIT
CHAPTER FORTY: POSSIBILITY OF FAILURE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: WEIRD SEX, A CASTING CALL, AND SPIES
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: THE GERIATRIC BRIGADE
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: THE MIND READER
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: WHAT GIRL?
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: PROCESS TO COMMAND
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: INTRUDERS ON THE DOCK
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: ALL THAT GLITTERS
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: STORMY WEATHER AHEAD
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: THE ULTIMATE TOOL
CHAPTER FIFTY: TAKING CARE OF LOOSE ENDS
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: WHERE DID THE SENIORS GO?
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: WHY WE GO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: UNWELCOME PURSUIT
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: DEPARTURE
SO NATURE DEALS WITH US, AND TAKES AWAY
OUR PLAYTHINGS ONE BY ONE, AND BY THE HAND
LEADS US TO REST SO GENTLY, THAT WE GO
SCARCE KNOWING IF WE WISH TO GO OR STAY,
BEING TOO FULL OF SLEEP TO UNDERSTAND
HOW FAR THE UNKNOWN TRANSCENDS THE WHAT WE KNOW.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
CHAPTER ONE: A STRANGE CHARTER
The large cruiser moved slowly down the canal past the sleeping residents of Coral Gables. Schools of leaping mullet made the only sound other than the chug of the powerful twin inboard diesels of the Manta III. The houses along the canal were sparkling shades of pastel pink, blue, and green, and the lawns were perfectly manicured. The docks were immaculate with at least two boats moored alongside each one. It was very quiet and very early.
The Manta III turned into the main channel and left the tranquil, misty scene behind. The engines responded as Jack Fischer urged them up to six knots. He stood on the flying bridge, spun the wheel hard to the right, and then positioned the Manta III to the left of the channel markers. It was a mile run to the sea wall and then out into the open ocean.
Jack sipped his coffee and breathed in deeply. This was the best time of day for him. The rim of a red sun rose in front of him, and there was peace and quiet. All was well this morning, and if his clients below were a little strange and secretive, well, that wasn’t any of his business. The short bald guy was obviously in charge, even though he never spoke.
A pelican flew across the path of the boat in search of breakfast, which reminded Jack of the buttered roll he had not eaten. He found it and took a healthy bite. Yes, it was going to be a good week. These folks were paying top dollar to charter the Manta III.
Jack glanced back toward the stern and eyed their equipment. He counted ten scuba tanks. There was an assortment of flippers, weights, masks, and markers. The large suction pump and hose were off to the left - a vacuum cleaner of sorts. The other cases were unopened so he could only speculate as to what they held.
This was not the first diving expedition that had chartered his boat. There were a few treasure hunters, although it was rare that they didn’t have their own boats. Actually, these people had never said they were after treasure. In fact, they hadn’t really told him the purpose of the trip.
He studied the map and the overlay they had supplied. It marked an area that he had fished many times. It was just to the southeast edge of the reef. In season, that was a good spot for trolling for barracuda.
He took another bite of his roll and a sip of the coffee.
A noise below made him turn to see one of the three divers moving a crate to the center of the deck. Jack watched as the man opened the crate and lifted out what appeared to be a small transmitter. There were two coils of silver wire that he placed on the deck. He then turned and began to climb up to the flying bridge.
Jack checked the channel markers, judging that they were now about five minutes from the open sea. The young man, was his name Hal or Hank, came onto the bridge and smiled.
“How’s it going, Captain?”
“Fine ... we’ll be out in a few minutes and I can open this tub up. Then we can make some time. It’s going to be a great day.”
The young man looked at the rising sun and smiled. “Can I use the outriggers? I want to string an antenna like this.” He outlined the shape of a triangle with his fingers, indicating that he would use the tips of the outriggers as the base and vortex would be attached to the stern. Jack could find no reason to say no, and he was curious to know why they needed a transmitter.
“What kind of radio is that?” he asked.
“Oh, well, it’s not really a radio ... just sort of a direction finder for working under the sea. Actually, it’s a new piece of equipment that we designed and were going to test out today.” The young man seemed uneasy, but Jack dismissed that as part of asking permission.
“Sure. Go ahead. You’re Hal?” Jack asked.
“No. I’m Harry. Hal is the guy with the blond hair.” He disappeared from view as he quickly went down the ladder to the deck. Jack heard the squeak of the pulley attached to the outrigger. His thoughts then quickly turned to the sound of a motor ahead of him.
The sleek bow of a Hatteras emerged from the canal that led to the site of the new condominium dock. That was some development - brand new and built in record time. It was the talk of the Gables. And what a name. Antares. It took the local newspaper two weeks to track down the owners and another week to report that Antares was an obscure star in the constellation of Scorpios. Why they called the place Antares was a mystery.
The Hatteras was out into the channel now and in front of him by about fifty yards. As the bow swung around he could read the name—Terra Time. He observed that her outriggers were spread and that thin silver wires were attached to the tips and joined on the bow. There was a blond young man attaching the lead to a double of the transmitter on his own deck. As they passed the sea wall, the sleek Hatteras throttled up. Her heading was due east into the rising sun. Jack revved up his twin Volvo engines and turned toward the southeast and the reef. Behind him other charters were emerging from the main channel and he had to pay attention to the traffic. He reminded himself to ask about that antenna setup later. Now he had to get down to the lower bridge and get on the radio to check the weather. His customers had also asked him to check to see if there would be many boats in their area today. Jack took a quick look around and then set the auto pilot down to the lower controls. He gathered up his coffee and roll, leaving the chart and overlay in place. One of these days he would run a radio mike connection and speaker up to the flying bridge on a permanent basis, but for now he would have to go below.
Harry had finished attaching the antenna setup and was opening another crate as Jack negotiated the last rung of the ladder and dropped to the main deck. The crate contained a gas cylinder and what appeared to be a shiny metallic cloth. Jack sensed that this was going to be a different kind of treasure hunt. As he turned to enter the main cabin, the bald man emerged from below decks and nodded hello.
He was short, perhaps five feet, two inches, but extremely well built. He appeared to be in his early forties. He had stripped off his clothes and was wearing only a pale green bikini bathing suit. Jack nodded back and went into the cabin as the man passed him and knelt next to Harry.
There was something strange about that guy, Jack thought. He seemed to glow, yet he wasn’t sweating. As a matter of fact, he was as dry as a bone. Then it hit Jack - the man had no hair! Not just on his head, but on any part of his body. Jack glanced back to confirm his thought. Yes, no hair. Probably a result of a severe case of scarlet fever. Or chemo? Too bad. The radio crackled as he turned the “On” switch and moved the squelch knob. He punched in channel 27.55 and keyed the mike. “This is KAAL-9911 ... Manta Three—Phil, you out yet? Over.”
A voice came back immediately. “Hey, Jack, how are you this morning? Yeah, we’re out about five miles ... gonna take a shot at some sails over in the Stream. Picked up two yesterday ... What are you up to? Over.”
Jack keyed again. “I got a party for the week here ... gonna do some diving over by the south reef. Anyone say they were heading that way? Over.”
“No ... no way. That’s been real dead over there for the past two weeks. Not even a stray cuda. Strange, because it was really hot, and then ... nothing. Let me know if you see anything over there ... I’ll give you a call around noon ... over.”
“Roger, Phil—what the hell!” Jack was startled as a huge shadow nearly blocked his view. He saw a flash of silver and then realized that Harry and baldy had launched an enormous silver balloon. “Sorry, Phil, I gotta go have a talk with these folks about rules and regulations ... I’ll look for your call around noon. Over and out.”
He placed the mike on its hook and pulled the throttle back to slow. The engines responded immediately and their forward motion slowed. The swells caught the bow and the boat began to roll. Jack sensed something, turned around and found the bald man standing directly behind him. For a moment he was startled and then realized that he was looking into the coldest eyes he had ever seen. It was as though he was looking at them for the first time. They were ice blue (hadn’t they been brown before?), and the man did not blink.
“What did you guys do with that balloon? I don’t think we’re allowed to let things like that go without the proper permission.”
The man’s expression didn’t change. “We are,” he said. “How long before we reach the reef?”
“About an hour, if the sea stays this way. Hold on a minute. What do you mean we are? And are there any more surprises in store?”
“... really sorry, Captain. I should have told you ... it’s my fault. A voice emerged from behind. It was the man who had originally made the charter arrangements. His name was Bright. Amos Bright. When he came aboard in the dark this morning he had been wearing jeans and sneakers and a sweat shirt. Now he was wearing a metallic diving suit. It was copper-colored and had wires hanging from the shoulders and knees. Mr. Bright continued his apology. “That’s a high-altitude marker to test some new equipment ... that stuff out on the deck. We’re going to bounce an underwater signal off it and make some calculations. There won’t be any more surprises. I’m truly sorry.” He had stepped between Baldy and Jack. Harry, who had followed into the cabin Amos, placed his hand on Baldy’s shoulder. The shiny little man and Harry left and walked to the stern of the boat.
The moment of silence was now interrupted by a toot from the horn of an approaching charter boat. Jack realized that he had better get under way. The traffic was getting heavy and he was an obstruction. “Okay ... okay ... I was just startled. Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“No harm done,” Bright answered. Jack was about to ask him about the Hatteras and the antenna, but Amos was moving away to join the two men at the stern. None of my business; besides, the money is good, he thought. He pushed the throttle. Once again the diesels responded and soon they were making twenty five knots. The skyline of Miami Beach was visible off the stern, while the near shore was dominated by the new Antares complex.
Nearly a half hour had passed since Jack had gone back up to the flying bridge. He estimated they would be at the reef site in another fifteen minutes. It had been a while since he had seen another boat. The charter party seemed to sense that they were nearing their destination because they had all assembled. The only one missing was the bald man.
There were a total of six
men below on deck. Mr. Bright, Harry, Hal the blond, two other men dressed in the copper suits, and another short, hairless man who could have been Baldy’s brother. The only difference was that this man was jet-black. It was as though he had been sprayed with hi-gloss enamel paint. He stood apart from the others and was looking up at the sky. Jack’s eyes followed his line of sight and saw the large silver balloon hovering over the boat. He couldn’t tell how far above it was because he hadn’t really had a chance to see how big it was close up. He guessed it was about five hundred yards slightly off to port. For a moment Jack thought he saw two balloons. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but there was only one.
The pings from his depth finder’s sonar bouncing off the ocean floor came quicker, indicating they were nearing the reef. He eased the throttle back and checked the overlay on his chart. Jack figured that he was about a half mile west of the site and slightly to the north. He turned the wheel and peered out for the Coast Guard marker, reef buoy number forty-three Green. It lay off the starboard, about one hundred fifty yards. He swung the wheel so that they would pass to the south of the buoy.
That would bring them straight to the site.
As Jack reached for the ice chest on the flying bridge, the white bald man came on deck. He was carrying a black rod. Attached to the rod were two wires. One wire ran to a silver disk that was stuck to the center of his bald head. The other wire was held in his hand and had a disk at the end of it.
Jack reached into the Styrofoam chest and grabbed a cold beer. He opened the can and looked up. The second wire was now attached to the black man’s head. Both knelt at the bow and placed a hand on the antenna wire that ran from the outriggers. The black rod was being lowered into the water by Mr. Bright. As the rod sank into the greenish water above the outer reef, Mr. Bright stepped back below the bridge. All the others followed except Hal, who knelt and moved some switches on the equipment.
The Cocoon Trilogy Page 1
