by Russ Elliott
“Unbelievable,” Kate gasped. “Looks like the work of Jack the Ripper.”
“Oh yes,” Tom said, “a true calling card of pliosaur. Because of its long spiked teeth, it was known to be a sloppy eater. Over the years, we’ve examined a lot of whale carcasses. Nothing in today’s oceans has inflicted a wound like this . . . until now.”
Kate looked at the cavernous bite mark surrounding Tom. “How wide is the bite?”
Tom shook his head with a slight laugh. “It’s over eight feet wide. But because of the condition it’s in from the scavenger sharks, we weren’t able to take any type of tooth count. So we don’t know if the creature even had the whale all the way in its mouth.”
Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re saying that might not even be a full bite? Its mouth could even be bigger than that?”
“There is that possibility,” Tom replied.
Officer Marimba muttered, “A mouth large enough for a full grown man to stand up in.” He looked at John, who nodded knowingly.
Tom walked outside the bite mark to the undamaged flesh of the whale. “The size of the wound isn’t the only thing unusual about this attack. The bite was taken from behind the whale’s head. An angle of attack more consistent with a large pliosaur than a great white.”
“What do you mean?” John asked, stepping closer.
“This attack was bold . . . it went for the throat. The rest of the whale was virtually undamaged. On a whale this size, white sharks would have gone for the tail first to disable it, then waited until it was dead to come back to feed from it. A much safer approach. This whale was nearly bitten in half at the throat! Tom’s growing excitement reflected in his voice. He looked directly at John. “I knew there was something big out there! You haven’t approached the media with this, have you?”
Without looking away from the jagged wound, John said, “I’ve only talked to a couple of people from the Navy, but didn’t get very far.”
Tom stepped away from the carcass. “Whom did you speak to?”
“The last person I spoke with was Admiral Henderson.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. He can be a little less than cooperative at times. But I’m afraid we’re going to need his help. Especially when it comes to air power. Unfortunately, our resources are very limited at the moment. We only have two helicopters, and one of them is down. All our boats are functional, but considering what we’re looking for, I don’t think a boat is an option.”
Kate pointed at Tom, grinning. She teased, “Now, I like him. This . . . this is a smart bloke!” She then wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. “If it’s all the same to you, gentlemen, do you mind if we take this somewhere where the air’s a bit fresher?”
They all laughed appreciatively, the mood upbeat. Leading them back through the cooler, Tom said to John, “Let’s try giving Admiral Henderson another call. Maybe two eyewitnesses and an eight-foot bite mark will be enough to get his attention.”
~~~
Tom clicked on the speakerphone so everyone in the office could hear. John stood anxiously beside Tom while Kate and Officer Marimba sat across from them on the opposite side of the desk. “This is Tom Hayman with the Shark Research Institute. Could you put me through to Admiral Henderson, please?”
Once the admiral was on the line and pleasantries exchanged, Tom said, “I have a Mr. John Paxton here with me. Mr. Paxton said that he has already spoken to you about a tooth he’s come across from an extremely dangerous marine reptile. A creature that he’s personally seen firsthand.”
“I know of him and this tooth,” the admiral replied with caution.
“We also have a second eyewitness. I’m with Officer Marimba who has just taken a statement from a surfer who was attacked yesterday at Keurboom. And his description of the creature does match up rather well with Mr. Paxton’s. In an interesting twist, I, too, have here at the institute likely evidence of this creature: a whale carcass containing an impressive bite mark. I would ask that you visit the institute immediately to take a look at the bite radius on this mark. Once you have seen this, I think you’ll agree that it’s time to start taking this matter seriously, and try to set up a plan to locate this creature.”
The admiral cleared his throat. “Well, gentlemen, I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more than that. I’m not inclined to be taken by an eyewitness who is a friend of Libby Watson’s and who made an appointment to show me the tooth but never showed up, claiming someone stole it.”
“Sir, there is the second eyewitness who also confirmed the creature’s description,” Tom calmly reminded the admiral.
“Who?” mocked the admiral. “The surfer who the doctors say is in shock? And, Tom, this so-called bite mark . . . is it clean? Were you able to take a tooth count from it and accurately determine the creature’s identity?”
Tom paused and looked at his guests, then sighed. “It wasn’t quite clean enough to take a tooth count. But it’s so symmetrical, it couldn’t possibly—”
“Sorry, guys, but I have more urgent matters to tend to,” said the admiral, promptly disconnecting the call.
Slowly, Tom clicked off the speakerphone then curiously turned to John. “Do you know Libby Watson?”
John shook his head. “Does everyone on the planet know this little man? I don’t really know him, but I do owe the little guy my life. He pulled me out of the ocean the other day when my chopper went down. That’s the only time I’ve ever met him.”
Tom sat down in a chair behind his desk. “About a year ago we checked out a sighting of a hundred-foot sea serpent, called in by Libby. When we got out there, it turned out to be several basking sharks lined up in a row feeding. Apparently, he’s led the Navy on a few wild-goose chases too. So the next time you talk to someone about an eighty-foot pliosaur, you might want to leave Libby’s name out of it.”
Suddenly, Officer Marimba’s radio squawked. He looked at his watch and said, “Okay, I can be there in ten minutes,” then quickly excused himself from the room.
After thanking the officer for his help, John leaned his hands against the desk. He looked at Tom. “So, what’s the next step?”
Tom rose from his chair and pointed to a detailed map of South Africa on his wall. His finger rested on Cape Infante. “From the beachings and the attack on the surfers, we know the pliosaur is heading west. For starters, I think I’ll take the chopper up and have a look around Cape Infante.” His finger moved along the map as he spoke. “Then I’ll continue farther along the Western Cape until I reach Gans Bay and the Dyer Island Channel, the most recent attack site. With any luck, the creature could still be here where it’ll be more attracted to the fur seal colonies than any boats in the area. If I don’t see it there, I’ll continue to head west.”
John looked at Kate who nodded. “Okay, sounds good,” replied John, looking closer at the map. “Earlier, Steven Jensen with the Port Elizabeth World Museum mentioned that False Bay would be a good spot to check. He also thought that the Cape of Good Hope would be a good place to look in case the pliosaur headed farther out for larger prey.”
“That’s a good point,” replied Tom. “The fur seals are quite agile. A creature this size could become frustrated trying to catch them and decide to go farther out for larger, slower prey.” Tom glanced at his watch. “I’d better get moving. The Western Cape’s a large area . . . I’ll cover as much as we can before nightfall.”
“What about my chopper?” Kate suggested.
John looked at her, wide-eyed with excitement. “Excellent! We can split up the area.”
She smiled at his enthusiasm and said, “We’ll drive back to the airport and get the chopper refueled.”
“Also, we’ll see if we can round up a couple barrels of chum,” John said.
Kate continued, “We’ll start farther east around Mossel Bay and work our way west until we reach the Dyer Channel. That way Tom can start just west of Dyer Island and follow the coast toward the Cape of Good Hope.”
“That sounds good,” Tom said, “we should be able to cover most of the Western Cape before nightfall.”
As Tom made arrangements for flight, John motioned to Kate for them to take leave. As they walked toward the front doors of the institute, Kate looked over at John and said, “I’ve got one more question. What do we do if we find it?”
Chapter 31
TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES
In the ship’s surveillance room, Nathan had become fixated on monitor number one, virtually ignoring the other three at this point. He scooted to the edge of his chair. In his eighteen years of marine research, he had never seen a whale exhibit such bizarre behavior.
The door squeaked and slid open behind him. He didn’t bother to look back. The heavy, deliberate footsteps and faint scent of pipe smoke told him it was the captain. The footsteps stopped behind his chair. Still, Nathan didn’t take his eyes from monitor one, which indicated that this whale had become entangled in a shark barrier net near the shallows. For the last fifteen minutes, he had been watching a group of bystanders struggle to cut the net away from the tangled creature and push it into deeper water. Nathan glanced back. “Looks like this guy needs a compass!”
“What’s that?” asked Nemo.
“The sperm whale on monitor one, trying to get untangled.”
“You mean the whale still caught in the shark barrier net?”
“Same whale, different net. Folks cut him free from the first net, and then he swam out about seventy yards, made a U-turn, and swam back toward the beach. Now he’s caught in another net not far from where they just released him. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to go back out to sea.”
Nemo put his hand on the back of Nathan’s chair. “Which whale is that? What’s the location?”
Nathan glanced at the monitors used to track the whale’s homing device and pointed at a dot. “That one’s about four miles south of us, somewhere around Pearly Beach.”
“Well, that whale certainly won’t find any squid.” Nemo scratched his chin, perplexed. “How much time do we have until we begin transmitting footage to the classrooms?”
“We’re about twenty-five minutes away.”
Short on optimism, Nemo grunted and paced the small room.
Nathan returned his attention to the other monitors. He focused on monitor three, where he saw the image jolt a bit. Then it twisted and turned as if freefalling to the depths. Then there was a poof of silt. Through the haze, he could see the light from the camera glaring off the rocky seabed.
“Great,” Nathan sighed. “Looks like we lost another one.”
“What’s that?” said Nemo.
“Looks like whale three’s transmitter and camera was just knocked off, my guess is by one of the juveniles playing.”
“Well, you know the drill. How deep?”
“Not bad. Probably don’t need to bother with the mini-sub. The pod’s moved in near the shallows, only about a hundred feet.” Nathan stood and stretched his back. “I’ll run down and get it . . . the dive will loosen me up a bit.”
The captain took a seat in front of the console. “Well, hop to it,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the monitors.”
~~~
Through the window in Kate’s airport office, John glanced at a small plane taxiing down the runway. He returned his attention to the TV. He took a sip of cold water, but no matter how much he drank, his mouth still felt like a desert. Was it exhaustion or his fraying nerves? Probably both. Every time he turned on the news, his mouth went dry at the thought of what he might hear next. Yet he had to keep watching. Knowledge of how this creature was moving was their only hope to stop it.
While Kate was in the restroom changing, he flipped channels and stopped when he saw a female reporter standing at the water’s edge. Uh oh, this doesn’t look good. He turned up the volume. The reporter was saying, “The Navy is still mystified by a boat that was discovered eight miles off Mossel Bay earlier this morning.” The camera panned left, showing a gray boat being guided onto a trailer by two men in uniform. “To the Navy’s surprise, the abandoned vessel turned out to be one of their own. After careful examination of the boat’s weathered hull, they were able to discern the boat’s ID number and discovered it had been missing for nearly twenty years.
“The vessel was last heard from while in pursuit of a boat allegedly transporting narcotics through the Indian Ocean. Traces of blood and cocaine residue found on the deck helped confirm the boat’s involvement in a drug investigation. But no one can explain the whereabouts of the two naval officers who mysteriously disappeared nearly two decades ago.”
Kate walked up behind John, tying off the bottom of her shirt. “Is that something about the pliosaur?”
John got up from the couch. “No, it’s nothing. Just some old patrol boat that went missing suddenly showed up near Mossel Bay.”
Kate shook her head as they walked toward the door. “Guess you never know what’s gonna come outta these waters!”
When John reached for the door handle, there was a knock from outside. Opening the door, his jaw dropped. Professor Atkins stood before him holding a musician’s flute case. The bags under her eyes indicated she hadn’t slept much recently.
“Good morning, lad,” said the little silver-haired woman.
“Mom!” said Kate.
“You came back!” gasped John.
They were both wide-eyed with astonishment. The old gal, on the other hand, was cool as a cucumber. “Of course, I came back.”
John looked at the flute case. “Is that the—”
“Precisely, it is,” she said loudly, and with a flourish, “the tooth! What are you so surprised about? I wasn’t going to keep the bloody thing. When I saw the gum tissue on the specimen, I decided to test that first, which would only take a few hours.” She winked. “And, of course, they found it to be reptilian . . . but not a match for any contemporary creature. No surprise to you and me, but I assure you it created quite a stir at the lab.”
Opening the case, she slid out a bundled towel and unfolded it to reveal the enormous tooth. She pointed to where part of the root was covered in a clear plastic wrap. “You need to leave this on. Some of the gum tissue was starting to dry out and flake off. This sealed area has a solution in it that will keep the tissue moist.” She handed him a manila folder. “These are the verification papers from the lab, complete with photos of the gum tissue and the appropriate lab numbers. This should be everything you need.”
Momentarily speechless, John reached out and took the tooth as if it were a piece of priceless china. He looked at it for a long time, then up at the professor, and then to Kate who was wearing a scowl. “Still, Mother. I can’t believe you took that—”
“No, no. We’re all good here.” John blurted. “And what timing! Professor, you’re beautiful. After I show this to the proper authorities, I . . . I promise I’ll have it right back to you. I swear . . . thanks a lot!”
The little woman looked at John, her eyes somber. “You go kill that bloody thing . . . then we’ll really have something to study.” With that, she turned and headed back to the parking lot without as much as a goodbye.
Placing the tooth on the couch, John scooped up Crystal. “Hey, one more thing,” he said, catching up to the professor on the sidewalk. “We’ll be gone for a while. Do you mind chimp-sitting until we get back?”
“That’s some trade-off,” smirked the professor. “I bring you back a priceless tooth, fully authenticated, and you give me a bloody monkey. Very well,” she muttered, and headed off, guiding the chimp by the hand. Crystal blew a raspberry at John as they walked away.
Back in the office, John held the tooth like a newborn, nearly cradling it in his arms. “Wow. Guess the old girl had a change of heart.”
“I think I know why,” said Kate.
John turned to find Kate staring at the TV. “This was on the news last night. It’s the surfer attack that took place ye
sterday,” she turned up the volume so John could hear.
The reporter stood on the beach, moonlight reflecting off the waves crashing against the shoreline in the background. “An apparent shark attack leaves one man dead and another struggling for his life in the hospital.” A photo of an attractive young man with shoulder-length, blond hair appeared on the screen.
“Dorian Anderson was born in Durban. This twenty-one-year-old South African native was schooled in Port Elizabeth, achieving public acclaim as a surfer. Placing in the top five in last year’s Billabong Pro held at Jeffery’s Bay, Dorian had proven himself as a world-class competitor with brilliant potential. He was also scheduled to continue his education at the University of Port Elizabeth with only one more semester to complete his bachelor’s degree in marine biology. But earlier today, in the waters behind me, those dreams were tragically cut short.”
As the reporter continued, Kate turned to John. “Dorian was the one surfing with Ron, the surfer we saw at the hospital. Dorian Anderson . . . I knew that name sounded familiar. Morene Anderson is one of Mom’s colleagues, and Dorian was her son.”
On the TV, John saw the camera turn and focus on the vast waters behind the reporter.
“Come on,” he said, “we’ve got to go.”
In full dive gear, Nathan treaded water beside the towering hull of the Nauticus II. The water felt cool and refreshing, a welcome relief from the endless hours he’d spent in the stale surveillance cabin. He lowered his dive mask. Through it, he could see the glistening backs of the whale pod about thirty yards out. He slipped the regulator into his mouth. A thumbs-up to Erick who was looking on from the starboard rail, and Nathan descended below the surface.
