by Steve Alten
Masao turned to Jonas. “In your opinion, in which direction will this Megalodon head?”
“Difficult to predict. She’ll follow the food, that’s for sure. Problem is, there are four distinct whale migration patterns heading south from the Arctic Circle as we speak. The Asian coastline is closest, but right now she’s moving east. There are two major runs occurring off the coast of Hawaii, plus the big California-Baja migration that intersects with your whale lagoon. Of course, if she ended up there…”
“What is it, Taylor-san?”
“Maybe you don’t have to kill her. Masao, how close to completion is the Tanaka Lagoon?”
“Two weeks, but JAMSTEC cut off our funding. Jonas, you’re not thinking of capturing this creature?”
“Why not? The lagoon’s certainly big enough to hold one Megalodon. You could study the creature while drawing huge crowds. Within a few months you’d be debt-free.”
“Tanaka-san,” Dr. Simidu asked, “is this option feasible?”
“Simidu-san, hai, it is possible, assuming we can locate this female.”
Terry stood, Masao’s daughter furious. “Father, what are you thinking? One of these monsters killed D.J. Our actions allowed this female to surface. We need to kill it before it hurts anyone else, or starts laying eggs, or having babies … or whatever the hell these things do to breed.”
Masao turned to his daughter, removing his sunglasses. “Kill? Is that what I’ve taught you? Do you know what this creature is, Terry? It is not a monster, it is a work of nature, the culmination of four hundred million years of evolution. Killing this majestic animal is out of the question. Its capture, however, would bring great honor, great meaning to D.J.’s death. It is what your brother would want.”
“It’s not what I want!” Terry stood and headed for the exit, slamming the warehouse door behind her.
Maggie smiled. “Temperamental little thing, isn’t she?”
The two representatives from JAMSTEC were talking rapidly in Japanese. When they were finished, Dr. Simidu turned to Masao. “Tanaka-san, I have the authority to release funding to your institute and will do so if you really believe you can capture this female.”
Masao looked to Jonas. “Taylor-san?”
“The lagoon would have to be finished quickly, the Kiku refitted. If we could locate the creature, we could tranquilize it, then drag it in using nets and inflatable buoys.”
“Inflatable buoys …” Maggie was scribbling notes. “And why do you need them exactly?”
Jonas turned to his wife. “Unlike whales, sharks don’t float. Being inherently heavier than seawater, if they stop swimming they’ll sink. Once we tranquilize the female, she’ll sink and drown unless we can keep water pumping through her gills.”
Mac mumbled. “Oh, is that all.”
“Tanaka-san,” said Dr. Tsukamoto, “you have lost a son to these creatures. With respect, if you so desire to capture this female, we will agree to underwrite the project and allow you to complete the lagoon. Of course, assuming you are successful, JAMSTEC will expect full access to the captured Megalodon, as well as our agreed-upon financial share of the lagoon’s tourism trade.”
Masao paused, tears welling in his eyes. “I think D.J. would have wanted this. My son dedicated his life to the advancement of science. The last thing he would want is for us to destroy this unique specimen. Jonas, will you help us capture the Megalodon?”
“Of course he will,” said Maggie, jumping in.
“Hold it gentlemen … and lady,” said Commander McGovern, rejoining the conversation. “Mr. Tanaka, just so we understand each other, the navy cannot support any of these efforts. My recommendation to my commanding officer will be to use gunboats to patrol the island shorelines. Should you manage to capture the shark first, so be it. Personally, I hope you’re successful. Officially, however, the navy cannot recognize this course of action as being a viable option.”
McGovern stood, signaling an end to the meeting.
Strategy
THE OFFICER’S GALLEY on-board the Kiku had been converted into a war room. On one wall Jonas had mounted a large map illustrating the global whale migration patterns. Red pins indicated the location of the whale carcass off the coast of Saipan and the whale and dolphin beaching. Although it was too early to establish a pattern, at first glance it appeared as if the Megalodon was heading east, away from the Philippine Sea and the Asian continent.
Next to the whale map hung a large diagram illustrating the external and internal anatomy of the Great White shark, along with a list of its sensory organs.
Maggie was on-board. Jonas’s spouse had convinced her network to sponsor the expedition in exchange for complete access to the ship and crew. As chief correspondent, Maggie and her cameraman, Fred Barch, would film raw footage and crew interviews which they would then upload to her producer back in California. The segments would be edited down and broadcast on the evening news in San Diego and their affiliate stations.
It was a huge career break, but it required Maggie to keep up appearances with her soon-to-be-celebrity husband. When she showed up with her suitcase in his stateroom aboard the Kiku, fully expecting to bunk together, Jonas quickly set her straight. “You’ve been having an affair with Bud Harris; story at eleven!”
Maggie did not take this unexpected rejection well.
Then there was Terry. As if one angry woman on-board wasn’t enough, Jonas had to deal with Masao’s daughter, who openly blamed him for having the audacity to suggest they capture the monster that had devoured her brother. Never mind the fact that it had actually been the male Megalodon which had killed D.J.; as Mac reminded Jonas, neither facts nor logic held any bearing on a woman, especially one in grief. For his part, Masao assured Jonas that Terry would eventually come around, but the anger in her eyes told him a different story.
Mac was quick to point out that angry women came in threes; the third being a sixty foot, seventy thousand pound female shark.
Capturing that angry lady was going to be a bitch.
*
Terry and Masao filed into the galley, taking seats opposite DeMarco and Mac. Maggie and her cameraman were situated in the back of the room. Frank Heller was the last to arrive.
Masao addressed the group, Maggie’s cameraman filming everything. “As you know, I’ve appointed Jonas to head this expedition. If there’s anyone in the room who has a problem with that, speak now.” He glanced at his daughter and Frank, neither of whom made eye contact. “Jonas?”
Jonas stood. “Before I review my plan to capture the female, it’s important everyone knows exactly what we’re dealing with.” He pointed to the anatomical chart. “Megalodon’s no ordinary predator. It’s intelligent, it can sense vibrations in the water miles away, and it can detect the electrical impulses of its preys’ beating hearts. Its nostrils are directional, allowing it to target one particle of blood or urine in billions of particles of seawater—”
“Yes, we know all this,” Terry said. “We’ll all make sure we use the bathroom prior to hunting her down.”
Jonas shot her a look, then walked to the back of the room to a pneumatic drill. Loosening its vise, he attached the female’s tooth to the hammer end, then held up a square piece of 3-inch titanium from a UNIS robot. “Megalodon teeth are among the hardest substances ever created by nature. Each tooth is serrated, like a steak knife, designed to puncture whale bone.”
Positioning the titanium plate beneath the tooth, Jonas flipped on the drill’s power switch. When the air pressure indicator pointed to green, he hit the ON switch.
The tooth instantly punctured the titanium plate, its tip protruding from the other side. He powered off the machine and returned to his seat.
“That was 10,000 pounds per square inch of pressure. The female’s jaw probably exerts twice that force. Now imagine a mouth the size of a small bus filled with hundreds of these teeth—a jaw big enough to swallow our mini-sub whole.”
In the back of the room, M
aggie’s eyes widened as an idea came to her. “Jonas, let’s say we wanted to film her capture underwater.”
Terry scoffed. “Are you suicidal or just stupid?”
“I’m talking to my husband, sweetheart.” She turned to Jonas, her cameraman filming the exchange. “How large would a shark cage have to be in order to prevent the Meg from swallowing it?”
Fred Barch stopped filming. “Hey, I’m not getting in any cage.”
“A shark cage would be crushed,” Jonas replied. “However a Lexan tube, say twelve feet in diameter and cylindrical, would be too large and slippery for the female to expand its jaws around.”
“I’m still not getting in any tube,” said the cameraman.
Maggie ignored him, jotting down notes.
“Let’s talk about something more important,” DeMarco said, pointing to the map. “How are you going to find one fish in all that ocean?”
Jonas nodded. “It’s not going to be easy. We know she needs to feed … that her favorite prey will be whales. Her eyes are too sensitive to surface during the day, which means she’ll do her hunting at night, attacking whales close to the surface. Mac’s equipped the helicopter with a thermal imager and monitor, which will assist us in spotting both the Megalodon and the whale pods in the dark. I’ll be riding shotgun, using a pair of night-vision binoculars. The Meg’s hide is white, making her easier to locate, so that helps. It also helps that whale carcasses float. After a certain number of kills we should know how often she surfaces to feed and her average speed—variables that will allow us to anticipate where she’ll surface.”
“Then what?” Frank Heller asked.
“Then we tag her.” Jonas held up a homing dart the size of a magic marker. “This transmitter dart fits into the barrel of a high-powered rifle. If we can inject the homing dart within twenty feet of the Megalodon’s heart, we’ll not only be able to track her, we should be able to monitor her pulse rate.”
“What good will that do?” asked DeMarco.
“Once we tranquilize the Meg, the next step is to harpoon her. These are not whaling harpoons, they’re hollow tubes with explosive back ends designed to inject a mixture of pentobarbital and ketamine into the shark’s bloodstream. The pentobarbital will depress the Meg’s cerebral oxygen consumption; the ketamine is more of a nonbarbiturate general anesthetic. The Meg’s heart should slow significantly once the combination of drugs take effect, however there may be an initial reaction that we need to watch out for. That’s why monitoring her heart rate is so important.”
Mac looked up. “I’m a little fuzzy on the whole ‘initial reaction’ thing. Maybe you can elaborate?”
Jonas nodded. “The pentobarbital could cause some initial hyperactivity.”
“What the hell does that mean?” asked DeMarco.
Mac slapped both palms on the table. “It means she’s gonna be one mighty pissed off fish just before she goes into la-la land.”
Masao stared at the whale migration map. “Jonas, once we tranquilize the creature, how will you bring it to the lagoon?”
“That’s the tricky part. The harpoon gun will be positioned at the Kiku’s stern. We’ll use the steel cable that’s wrapped around the big winch as its line. The harpoon won’t remain fastened very long in the Meg’s hide, so it’s important that we get the harness around her as quickly as possible. The harness itself is basically a two-hundred-foot fishing net with inflatable buoys attached every twenty feet along its perimeter. Inflate the buoys and the net should level her out. As the Kiku tows the net, the forward momentum will channel seawater into her mouth, forcing her gills to breathe. After that, it’s just a matter of towing her into the lagoon.”
Terry looked skeptical. “And how do you propose we secure the net around a thirty-ton sleeping shark?”
“Once her heart rate slows, I’ll enter the water in the shallow water version of the Abyss Glider and use the sub to align the net into position.”
Terry looked at Jonas, incredulous. “You’re going back in the water with that monster?
“I’ll be fine. Remember, we’ll be monitoring the Megalodon’s heart rate and I’ll be in constant communication with the Kiku. If the Meg begins to awaken, her pulse rate will increase rapidly as a warning. We can then inject her with more pentobarbital and ketamine. Believe me, I have no desire to play the hero. The Meg will be knocked out long before I enter the water in the glider.”
Jonas looked over his team. “There’s a sense of urgency here. The Coast Guard has been patrolling the area over the last few nights with no dead whales reported. Tonight will mark seventy-two hours since Mac and I located the whale carcass off the coast of Saipan. It’s vital we locate another kill as soon as possible. The longer it takes, the wider the search perimeter grows. And let’s not forget the Meg is pregnant, she’s feeding for two … or maybe twenty-two, who knows how large a Megalodon litter is.”
Masao nodded. “Better get some rest; it could be a long night.”
*
Seven hours later, Maggie stood at the stern rail with her cameraman. The sun was beginning its descent along the western horizon, the shadow of the two-story-high A-frame creeping across the main deck toward the bridge.
Jonas approached. “You said five o’clock. Let’s get this over with. I still have a lot to do before we go on patrol.”
The cameraman clipped a dime-size microphone to the lapel of Jonas’s jumpsuit. He handed him the battery pack. “Slip that into your pocket, then count backwards from ten, I want to do a quick sound check.”
Jonas counted while Maggie checked her hair again. The wind was wreaking havoc, despite having used a third of the contents of her can of hairspray.
The cameraman framed the shot, the setting sun to his back, washing Maggie and Jonas in its golden hue. “Looks great. Any time, Maggie.”
Maggie smiled, pouring on the charm. “So Jonas? How does it feel to be vindicated after all these years?”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
“Of course it does. It changes the public’s perception about Jonas Taylor.”
“Meg or no Meg, two men died under my command. Their families have to live with that every day.”
“It was an accident, Jonas. Life goes on.” She gazed at the sunset. “So beautiful, isn’t it? Reminds me a little of our honeymoon.”
Jonas stared at her perfect profile. “What happened to us, Maggie?”
“Cut! This is an interview, Jonas, not a venue to air our dirty laundry.”
“Then why the honeymoon remark? Are you attempting to manipulate the public’s perception of our marriage?”
She looked at her cameraman. “Fred, give us a minute.”
“Okay, but we’re losing the light.”
She waited until he walked out of earshot. “Jonas, we’re so beyond this.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Okay, if you really need to know. The man I fell in love with was a cocky navy commander with an ambition that matched my own. You knew you were the best, and that turned me on.”
“And after the accident?”
“The Jonas Taylor who surfaced from the Mariana Trench was bitter and angry. I came to realize you weren’t the same man I fell in love with.”
“Shit happens, Maggie. People change.”
She touched his cheek, her eyes all business. “I don’t. But listen, life goes on, right? I put up with a lot over these last seven years. You’re in a position now to either help my career or destroy it, that’s up to you. You want to hold onto your anger, then do it, but you’re only hurting yourself. Me? I’m a survivor. Bitterness doesn’t put food on the table or Emmys on my bookshelf, only hard work can do that.”
Jonas nodded. “You’re right. I have been angry … it was me who pushed you away. At the same time you haven’t exactly been the supportive wife.”
“Agreed. We’re both at fault and this marriage is over. So, do you want to finish the interview? Or would you rather burn our rel
ationship to the ground?”
Jonas signaled the cameraman to return. “I’ll give you what you want, Maggie, only don’t play me. I know it was you who fed that reporter the story about my dives into the trench. Trust me, there are people in Washington who wouldn’t be happy if that story grew legs.”
She saw Terry Tanaka watching them from the starboard rail. Taking his hand, she held it as she whispered in his ear. “Okay, Jonas. We’ll keep our relationship professional.”
Attack
THE FULL MOON REFLECTED off the windshield of the helicopter, illuminating the interior of the small compartment. Jonas was up front in the passenger seat, using the night vision binoculars. Seated in back directly behind him was Terry, who was holding the high-powered rifle and a backpack full of transmitter darts. If they could locate the Megalodon, it would be Terry’s job to tag it, allowing the Kiku to track it and move into range of the harpoon gun.
Maggie was seated next to Terry, holding the heavy video camera mounted on a steady-cam. The chopper only held four passengers, and she was not about to allow Fred Barch to hog her glory.
Situated between Jonas and Mac was a monitor wired by cable to an Agema Thermovision 1000 infrared imager. Mounted below the helicopter was a small gyrostabilized platform that held the thermal imager pod in place. The device was designed to detect objects in the water by the electromagnetic radiation the object emitted. The internal temperature of a warm body would appear on the monitor as a hot spot against the image of the cold sea. The warm-blooded whales were easily detected; the Megalodon’s internal temperature would be slightly cooler.
For nearly five hours, Mac had flown his chopper along a thirty-mile perimeter of ocean, hovering two hundred feet above the black Pacific. They had located a dozen pods of whales without seeing a trace of the Megalodon, and the initial excitement Jonas had felt was quickly fading into boredom as he realized just how difficult their task was going to be.
“This is crazy, Jonas,” Mac shouted over his headphone’s mouthpiece. “It’s worse than looking for a needle in a haystack.”
