by Michael Bray
“Why bother?” Rainwater asked. “It was already a dead project by the sound of things.”
“In the eighties it was. Since then, technology has come a long way, and Russo managed to convince someone way up the chain that he could pull this off. His plan is to find where this creature makes its lair, call in a huge support team who are waiting on standby. He wants to capture it, house it in captivity and if possible, clone it. One of these is devastating enough. Could you imagine an army of them?”
“Impossible, there isn’t a place on earth that could hold it captive. Let alone the public reaction if people found out what was going on. Greenpeace for one would be all over this guy.” Rainwater said.
“That’s why he’s so desperate to keep it under wraps. He knows if word got out, the entire project would be shelved. As to keeping it captive, it’s not as impossible as you might think. I saw plans for a facility in Florida. It’s all tied up in red tape and listed as a new multi-million dollar aquarium complex, which, in essence it will be. There’s also a separate wing closed to the public with tanks more than big enough to house this thing.”
“Sounds like a dumb move to me,” Mackay said.
“No, actually it’s brilliant.” Rainwater said. “Where else to hide it but in plain sight? Nobody would ever really know as long as the area was big enough and completely closed off to the public. Easier to hide it there than in a specific custom made facility designed to house it.”
“Exactly,” Clara agreed. “Russo is pouring millions into this aquarium and has teams working round the clock to finish it. The outer structure is still being worked on, but documents in the folders I read point to the holding tank for the creature being just about ready.”
“We need to tell someone, expose this for—”
“No time,” Clara interjected. “This is happening now. By the time we tell anyone, this will be all over. Even if we exposed the facility in Florida, I have no doubts they can tie any investigation in enough red tape to last for years. They have all the bases covered.”
“I think the both of you are missin’ the point.”
Clara and Rainwater looked at Mackay, who had a wry smile etched on his lips.
“What do you mean?” Rainwater asked.
“Well, it seems to me if the young lady here is locked in here with us, Russo must assume she knows about his little plan.”
“He does.” She said, watching the leathery fisherman.
“What makes either of you think any of us will get off this boat alive to be able to breathe a word of it?”
Rainwater felt cold fingers touch his spine at the simplicity of Mackay’s words.
“You think they would go that far? Over a fish?” He asked.
“I do.” Clara said, her throat dry as she said the words. “This Russo guy is willing to do anything to win. He has no boundaries. He’s already seen one man killed to get what he wants. What makes you think he would stop?”
“Exactly,” Mackay said, further stretching his grin as he looked at them in turn. “Look at what he has done already. He’s already responsible for letting Ox die, as well as those people who were in the water when they tagged the fish. Do you really think he would lose any sleep if he decided to put a bullet in the heads of the three of us?” He snorted and rubbed at his stubble-fluffed cheeks. “No, I think the only reason we’re still alive is because he’s concentrating on finding our fish. Keeping his eyes on the prize as they say. Soon enough, his thoughts will come back to us, and he’ll probably try to pander us with bullshit and keep us sweet, we all know what’s coming eventually.”
He held two fingers to his head and dropped his thumb, then grinned.
“The two of you need to face it, we’re dead already. It just hasn’t happened yet.”
“We can fight.” Rainwater said, triggering a dry chuckle from Mackay.
“Oh, I’m sure we could try, but I counted at least twelve men on deck, plus Russo and the other guy.”
“Andrews, and my assistant, Dexter. Oh God, I hope he’s alright.” Clara said.
“Aye, Andrews,” He repeated. “Most of em’ are armed. Plus, this is their boat so we have no real means of escape. I like a gamble as much as the next man, but these odds are too steep for me.”
“You can’t give up,” Rainwater said, holding the Scotsman’s gaze.
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t go down without fighting. I’ll be doing all I can to take that bastard Morrison with me. I just don’t want you to get all excited about some grand old escape plan that ain’t gonna happen.”
“Can we get word to your assistant? Get him to help us?”
“I don’t see how,” Clara said, shaking her head. “After we tried to get off the boat, they confined him to his room. Even if he did come looking for me, it’s not like they’re about to tell him where I am.”
“Any ideas?” Rainwater asked Mackay.
“I suggest for now we wait here and see what happens. With a bit of luck, this bastard fish will eat him and put an end to this. Until then, it’s a case of waiting to see if this damn crazy idea of theirs works.”
CHAPTER 43
Ocean world Construction site
Florida coast
5:45am.
Tom Royston woke to the high-pitched tone of his alarm clock. The forty four year old foreman swung his legs out of bed and rubbed his eyes. The air conditioning unit growled under the window, which although irritating was better than having to face the stifling humidity. Ignoring the aches that had beset his body over the last few weeks, he stood, shuffling towards the bathroom. As he urinated, he wished he was back in England. He enjoyed the sun as much as anybody did, but this was unbearable. For five weeks, he had been overseeing construction of the giant lagoon part of the complex. As was the American way, it really was huge. Shifts of men were working in constant twelve-hour rotations, meaning the site was always a hive of activity. He was foreman for the seven to seven shift, and even though he hadn’t looked outside, he knew by the golden bars of sunlight, which were trying to penetrate the curtains, it was going to be another scorcher.
He walked to the window, pulling open the curtains and letting in the intrusive sunlight. His view, such as it was, consisted of the skeletal construction in progress. Looming ahead was the giant dome of the lagoon complex, its intimidating steel framework shimmering in the heat. Working in such oppressive conditions was bad enough, however his contract also stated he had to live on site until construction was complete. He, along with the rest of the workforce, had been provided with temporary accommodation, and the money was good so he didn’t complain. He turned his attention towards the workday and hoped the night shift had managed to meet their quota. They had been lagging of late, and it had been down to his dayshift to pick up their slack. Even so, it didn’t really matter. The lagoon was ready for all intents and purposes. There was just a couple of weeks’ worth of minor work to be done, then they could move on to the rest of the complex.
As he looked at the giant structure, he had to hand it to the Americans. When they got their teeth into a project, they always went big with it. It looked more like a football stadium from the outside than an aquarium and he wondered how much it must be costing the people who were bankrolling it.
Still, none of that was his problem. He had work to do, and pay to earn. With a sigh, he headed back to the bathroom and started to get ready to go to work.
Forty-five minutes later, he was making his way across the construction site, hardhat tucked under his arm. The heat was already borderline unbearable, and he was certain they were in for one hell of a day. As he approached the huge domed wall of the aquarium, he could see the night supervisor, Trautman, waiting for him. He was pacing by the door.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Tom asked, as he looked the portly Brooklyn native up and down.
“Overtime,” he said, exhaling acrid cigarette smoke and rolling his narrow eyes at Royston.
“Overtime? For what?
We’re way ahead of schedule.”
Trautman shrugged, “Damned if I know. All I was told is the people in charge want this project finished and quick. Until it’s done, they are offering to pay the guys as many hours as they can put in.”
“What’s the rush?”
“They didn’t say. All I know is they want the lagoon bowl finished and filled by Sunday.”
“Next Sunday?”
“I wish. This Sunday.”
“Today is Wednesday. We need at least a couple of weeks.”
Trautman nodded. “I know, I told them the same. They said there’s a bonus in it for us if we can get it done on time.”
Tom nodded and looked at the imposing dome, grateful to be standing in its cooling shadow.
“I don’t see why they’re so desperate to get this thing finished. What’s the rush?” Royston asked.
“I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care. I’m on overtime rate, so as long as they pay me to be here, I’ll be here.”
Tom nodded, squinting at the pristine blue sky.
“Well, in that case, I guess we better get back to work.”
“I’ll follow you in, I’m just going to finish this smoke.” Trautman said, holding up the tempting looking cancer stick to Royston.
Resisting the urge to snatch it from his hand and smoke it, Tom put on his hard hat and went inside.
CHAPTER 44
The creature went deep, attempting to quell the searing pain where the barbed harpoon had struck. The Victorious followed at a distance, matching every move and change of direction the creature made.
“Do you still have him?” Russo asked.
Andrews lowered his headset.
“Signal is good and strong. We’re right behind it.”
“I wonder where it’s heading?”
“Somewhere familiar. A territorial hotspot. Somewhere our fish likes to call home.”
Both Andrews and Russo looked at Morrison, who was leaning on the wall, deftly rocking with the motion of the boat as he hand rolled a cigarette.
“What makes you so sure?” Andrews asked.
“Hunch,” Morrison replied as he licked the edge of the cigarette paper and rolled it tight.
“This is a multimillion dollar mission,” Andrews countered. “I think we need more than a hunch.”
Morrison sighed and looked at Russo, then turned his attention to Andrews.
“Well, whilst you have been here hanging off Russo’s dick, I’ve been tracking this thing. I’ve also been studying its feeding patterns. It’s all there if you choose to look for it. Since it found its way into the world, our fish has been without challenge.”
Despite the no smoking signs, Morrison popped the cigarette into his mouth and lit it, exhaling through his nostrils. Andrews looked about ready to protest when Morrison continued speaking.
“When the harpoon dart hit our fish, it got him just here.”
Morrison pointed to the soft tissue above his eye. “It will have hurt. All those nerve endings will have come alive, and our fish here, he’s not used to pain. He’s used to being king of the seas. So he runs and we chase. According to the radar, he’s gone deep, and my guess is to try to cool the burning. Our fish isn’t used to it. It panics. What would you do in that situation?”
Andrews stammered as Morrison watched him.
“Let me help you out,” he said, letting Andrews off the hook. “You’d go somewhere familiar. Somewhere you could go and lick your wounds. You’d go back to wherever you called home. That’s where our fish is going, and we’re gonna follow it.”
“Do we have any idea where?” Andrews asked.
Russo looked to Morrison, who took a long drag of his cigarette. “Antarctica is my guess. Back to where it came from.”
Andrews nodded, and Morrison grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Keep me informed.” Russo said, as he headed below deck.
Andrews watched Morrison as he smoked.
“Let me ask you something,” he said.
“Shoot.”
“Do you think we can do it? Catch it? Clone it?”
“I don’t know much about that,” Morrison replied as he exhaled more acrid cigarette smoke. “All I do know is that this is a big, dangerous animal. If it wanted to, it could tear this boat apart and none of us would stand a chance. Then I remind myself it’s just a fish, and if we use our brain and outsmart it, we can take it easily enough.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
Morrison shrugged, “If I’m wrong, I don’t think it really matters. We won’t live long enough to worry about it.”
CHAPTER 45
Russo made his way below deck towards where his prisoners were held. Although he would rather not go to the trouble of getting his hands dirty, it was looking increasingly likely he would have to, especially with their insistence on interfering in the mission every chance they got. With the creature tagged, all that remained was to track the creature to its lair. Once the location was established, Russo would contact the 880-foot Navy battleship Titus.
Officially decommissioned in the mid-nineties, the records said the ship had been dismantled and sold for parts, however, the truth was it had never left dock. Its serial numbers had been changed, as had all its markings identifying its previous lineage. In essence, it was a ghost ship. Russo’s department had spent a small fortune converting the boat to accommodate his needs. Its innards had been removed and remodelled, the aircraft hangers replaced with laboratories and rooms to house the 2,000 strong staff on board. The bulk of the remodelling and much of the multi-million dollar budget had been spent on the five hundred foot long holding tank designed to transport the creature. Located centrally in the hull, the corridor like enclosure was designed to hold the animal in place safely without allowing it the manoeuvrability to let it cause problems for the duration of its journey and overbalance the ship. At the bow, seawater was fed via pressurised tubes through the tank and out of rearward facing exit pipes, ensuring a constant flow of seawater allowed the creature to breathe. There had been some concerns over the stress, which may be caused to the creature under such conditions, each of which Russo had swept aside. Even if the creature didn’t survive, he was still confident the cloning could still take place. His team were under instructions to take blood and tissue samples from the creature as soon as it was on board. He fished a fresh roll of mints out of his pocket, popped one in his mouth and entered the storage room.
“What the hell do you want?” Mackay said, spitting on the floor for good measure.
Russo simply smiled and sucked his mint, rolling it around his mouth.
“How long do you plan to hold us here?” Clara asked.
“That depends on the three of you.” Russo replied, sitting on the lip of a wooden box filled with potatoes. “I’ve come here to offer you all a chance to fix this mess, and save us all any more of this unpleasantness.”
He waited for an answer, and when none came, he continued. “I appreciate we’ve had a few disagreements.”
“Disagreements? You had an innocent man shot.” Mackay snapped.
“That was a mistake, I won’t deny that. You left me with no choice.”
“Yeah, Project Blue right?” Rainwater said.
Russo’s smile faltered for a second.
“I’m surprised you know about that,” He said to Rainwater whilst looking at Clara. “Although, maybe I shouldn’t be.”
“It’s a mistake. You know it as well as we do.” Clara said, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
“I thought you were all for conserving these creatures? Studying them for the benefit of science.” He countered, reaffirming his grin. “You need to pick a side and stick to it, Miss Thompson.”
“It’s not about sides,” Rainwater cut in, “it’s about doing the right thing. This isn’t something you can weaponise or control.”
“You have it wrong. You see me as some kind of monster, hell bent on creating the next super weap
on to feed my own ego. What about the other benefits? What if this creature has properties that can advance science? Cure diseases? Would you call me a monster then, or a visionary?”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Clara said, the colour rushing to her cheeks. “You don’t care about advances in science, or the safety of us or anyone involved. All you care about is completing the mission.”
“For someone who is supposed to examine evidence with an open mind, that’s a pretty judgemental viewpoint.”
“What did you expect?” She shouted, surprising both Mackay and Rainwater. “You put a gun to my head, you lock me in here, and you threaten me. I only came here to do a job, not risk my life.”
“And yet here you are. I wonder if you know what side you are on.”
“I don’t have a side!” She screamed, glaring at Russo. “I’m a scientist, I thought I was going to be able to study a brand new species, I didn’t expect to be treated like a prisoner.”
“You aren’t a prisoner.” He shot back, for the second time, his smile faltering.
“Shoving us in here and locking the door says otherwise.” Rainwater cut in.
“Look,” he said holding his palms up and finding his greasy smile again, “we’re going off track here. I came here to make peace, not point the finger.”
“Tell that to Ox.” Mackay grunted.
“I’m sorry about your friend, I’m afraid he was a -”
“Don’t say casualty of war, or collateral damage or any of that shit,” Mackay said, standing and taking a half step towards Russo. “As it is, I’m only a hair away from breaking those fucking shiny white teeth of yours.”
“Take it easy,” Rainwater said, hopping to his feet and standing between Mackay and Russo.
