Above her Elizabeth saw the towering pectoral fins. The massive four-hundred-pound flippers could easily crush her, but she was being held as gently as a calf cradled by its mother. After she had recovered from the shock and realized that she was not dreaming, she heard cheering. It was coming from the spectators lining the banks.
Elizabeth smiled a nervous half-smile, knowing that her colleagues and the Coast Guard might not be as impressed. While riding on whales was acceptable at marine parks, she knew it was considered interfering with a wild whale by researchers and, even more importantly, by law enforcement. She looked down at her hands, and what she saw made her heart sink.
The whale’s skin was not only blistering and sloughing off, but there were raised white plaques, like mold on cheese, and these lumps were already starting to ooze. She also saw white lesions and more superficial pockmarks. She wondered whether all of this could have happened so quickly, just from the fresh water.
The cheering had not stopped. Elizabeth raised her hand modestly to acknowledge the crowd and let them know she was all right. They cheered all the louder. She quickly slipped into the water to swim back to the boat.
The whale swam toward her, and just above the surface she saw his gray-brown eye. It caused her to tremble even more than the freezing water.
Through the clouding lens she recognized a light she had seen in other whales she had studied. It was not just perceptiveness or intelligence. It was the familiarity of something long forgotten, which she could feel but had never been able to give voice to.
Several large, blue-suited Coast Guard seamen helped Elizabeth over the orange gunwale of the boat. Water poured off her soaked clothes. As they wrapped a rough wool blanket around her, she felt it scrape against her neck. She could feel her body’s heat captured by the wool and was grateful for the warmth. Someone handed her a cup of coffee from a thermos. She smiled as she smelled its bitter aroma, and everything else seemed to disappear for a moment in a cloud of steam.
Lieutenant James came up to her. “They’ve agreed to make you a co-investigator on the permit for the Marine Mammal Center. You got your week.”
“And then what?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
WHEN ELIZABETH reached shore, the television film crews attacked her.
“Can you really talk to the whale?”
“Are you like Dr. Dolittle?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, remembering her mistake the day before.
“Is the whale sick?” a reporter asked as the crop duster flew overhead.
“I’m not sure, but I think we need to institute a no-fly zone to avoid harming it any more.”
“What did you see when you were on the whale?”
“His skin is blistering—he’s not healthy.”
“What do you think is making the whale sick?”
“I don’t know,” she said, remembering Connie’s words, “but the crop dusting can’t be good for him. I would strongly encourage the farmers in this area to stop spraying until the whale is safely back in the ocean.”
“So how did it feel to be on the belly of a whale?”
Elizabeth smiled. “I guess it’s better than being in the belly of a whale.”
Everyone laughed as she excused herself. Elizabeth squeezed the water out of her braid. She was grateful to have her hair braided, or she would have looked even more like a wet rat on television. She wondered if Frank would see the program, and she hoped she had looked at least halfway decent.
“Excuse me, Ms. McKay…”
Elizabeth turned around. Bruce Wood, a reporter from the Sacramento Times, handed her his card with a wry smile. “I’d like to do a story about you and the whales you talk to.”
“Why don’t you write an article on the effects of crop dusting?”
“Crop dusting is not news in the Central Valley, but whales and the women who love them will be of interest to our readers.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Elizabeth said as she met up with Connie, who had a tiny video camcorder in her hand. It looked like something an international spy might use.
“Home movies of the great Dr. Elizabeth Dolittle. You can’t trust the news to get the story right.” Connie handed Elizabeth a slip of paper. “I got you the name and number of someone who might be able to help stop the spraying. He’s the head of the Valley Chamber of Commerce. He’ll know who’s responsible.”
“Why me? You’re the activist.”
“He’s much more likely to take a call from a celebrity.”
“What are you talking about?” Elizabeth said testily, pulling the wool blanket more tightly around her. They crossed the police tape surrounding Incident Command and moved through the crowd of people still lining the shore of the levee.
Before Connie could answer, people began to recognize Elizabeth as the woman they had just seen on the whale. They moved apart to make way for her, staring silently. Elizabeth felt strange, as if she had returned from an alien world. Embarrassment flushed through her body like a red rash. She heard someone clap and then others joined in, and soon the whole crowd was applauding. It continued as Elizabeth walked down the levee. What she had done to deserve the applause, she wasn’t sure. What she meant to these people, she didn’t know. But she had given them something they longed for, and they were clearly deeply grateful.
THIRTY-SEVEN
4:00 P.M.
Davis
“DON’T YOU KNOW smoking bad for your health?” Teo pressed his filleting knife to Nilsen’s neck and pushed his chest firmly against the other man’s back. It had been easy to recognize Nilsen from the island—he was, after all, the one who had told Teo about the whales. He had also been the one who had cut a member of Teo’s crew in a bar fight. “Tell me why you spying on Liza before I slit your throat and watch the smoke come out.”
Nilsen exhaled and said calmly, “You got this wrong.”
“Have I now?”
“We’ve got twenty-five thousand dollars for that package you brought from the island.”
“That a lot of money for a couple kilos of whale meat.” Teo was having fun with the man, but he was also thinking fast about why they were willing to part with so much cash.
“The offer is for twenty-five thousand U.S. dollars,” Nilsen said, still surprisingly relaxed for someone whose throat could be slit at any moment. Teo considered the offer. He could do a lot with that kind of money, but what kind of a bargain was he making with the devil? He knew Nilsen worked for the Japanese, who were trying to bring back commercial whaling. He did not object to it—they were fishermen, just like him—but they’d wipe out the whales in a few seasons. Then there’d be no more catching days, not for anyone.
Teo thought about the package in Elizabeth’s freezer. He’d need to move it to keep it—and Elizabeth—safe.
“Well, I got an offer for you. Get the hell out of here and never come back. Then I won’t slit your throat. That’s my final offer.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
5:00 P.M.
Liberty Slough
ELIZABETH WAS FEELING QUEASY again as she got into the car. Connie had decided to stay with the whale and coordinate the protesters, who still held signs demanding an end to Japanese “scientific” whaling and to sonar testing.
It was highly unlikely that the crop dusting could have caused her to feel ill so quickly, particularly as it was not affecting the rest of the crowd in the same way. Still, she thought it best to minimize the stress on the whale, whether from pesticides or the noise of the airplane. She would talk to Lieutenant James about the no-fly zone, but she decided to try the number Connie had given her.
Out of her bag she pulled her old silver cell phone and flipped it open. She dialed the number. As it rang, she drove out of the field where her car and now several hundred others were parked.
“Valley Chamber of Commerce. Can I help you?” The receptionist’s warm voice allowed Elizab
eth’s shoulders to relax.
“George Conley, please.”
“Who may I tell him is calling?”
“My name is Elizabeth McKay.”
“Will he know what this is about?”
“I’m one of the researchers working with the whale trapped in the slough.”
After a short delay, a man with a deep voice said, “This is George Conley. And you must be the whale whisperer? I just saw you on top of the whale.”
“You did?”
“I’ve been watching everything on the webcam—it’s not every day we have a whale visiting the Valley.”
“Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’d like your help getting the farms near the slough to stop spraying until the whale leaves.”
“Spraying crops is a highly time-sensitive operation.”
“It might just be a week or two.”
“I wish I could help you, Ms. McKay, but those fields around the slough are owned by G&G Foods, one of the largest agribusinesses in the world. If they don’t spray now, they could lose hundreds of thousands of dollars to pests, and then the farmworkers won’t have crops to pick. Do you want me to ask them to put people out of work? How would those workers feed their children?”
The guy sure had a way of making a request sound heartless and unreasonable.
“The whale might be sick and—”
“Businesses can’t stop because a whale decided to pay us a visit.”
“We think the water in the slough might—”
“Ms. McKay, our members are good businesses. That agribusiness grows food for families to eat. The oil refinery makes gasoline for families to drive their cars. The chemical factory makes plastics for products like baby bottles. These businesses give people what they need.”
“I have no doubt, Mr. Conley. We’re just concerned about controlling any chemical exposure that the whale might be experiencing.”
“Ms. McKay, all of the companies in our area obey strict federal and state regulations. Scientific research has shown time and time again that the pesticides the agribusinesses use are safe—unless, of course, you’re a pest. So please, if you know what’s good for you and everyone else…don’t start being a pest.”
There was something strangely defensive and even threatening in his rant, but Elizabeth had to get off the phone as a wave of nausea rolled through her body. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Conley.” At a stop sign, she took several deep breaths to prevent herself from vomiting. She jumped at the foghorn blast of an eighteen-wheeler waiting impatiently behind her, and looked up to see its big steel grille and shiny glass headlights in her rearview mirror. She accelerated quickly. Elizabeth was out in the middle of miles of agricultural land, and the winter sun had already fallen below the horizon. Perhaps the tone of the phone call had shaken her more than she realized.
HE SWALLOWED another antacid. More heartburn.
“ESC.”
“It’s George Conley. I need to speak with Ms. Hanson right away.”
“One moment, please.”
“George, so good to hear from you.” Amanda Hanson spoke in a voice that was so smooth and calm that it always made him nervous. He imagined her holding the receiver with her perfectly manicured red nails. Perhaps it was just that he knew her reputation from the business and philanthropy circles in which they traveled, but she made him think of a black widow spider. From what he had heard, she wove her intrigues as if she had eight legs, and she was apparently not unwilling to eat her mates—or anyone else who got in her way.
“I’m very sorry to bother you, Ms. Hanson, but I thought you might want to know that Elizabeth McKay, that whale whisperer, just called me. She’s poking around the slough and talking to the media. We could have a problem with that whale.”
“Really? With the whale?” Her voice was cool and unflustered, as usual.
“That scientist is worried about crop dusting hurting the whale, but she could find out that there are greater dangers out there than a few fields of tomatoes.”
“Thank you for calling, George. We will certainly look into the problem.”
THIRTY-NINE
5:30 P.M.
AS SOON AS CONNIE SAW the caller ID on her cell phone, her heart started pounding. She needed privacy and hurried some distance away from the protesters.
“Tano’s nervous.” The Internet call from Japan was clipped, forcing Connie to press the phone closer to her ear. She looked at her watch—it was 10:30 A.M. Tokyo time. Jake and Tano were no doubt making final preparations.
“Of course he’s nervous. It’s dangerous,” Connie whispered forcefully into the phone. “All actions are dangerous, especially one like this.” She could tell there was something else behind Jake’s call.
Tano was the nicest person Connie had ever met: sincere and earnest and polite. He was not like so many of the activists, who were angry at the world, wounded by people, and seeking refuge in their love of animals. Tano was the future of the anti-whaling movement in Japan. He had gone out on a whale watch with his biology class at university, fallen in love with the whales, and now wanted to save them. He also happened to have fallen in love with Connie. She knew it would never work and that love was only a distraction from the war they were fighting. It had already complicated her relationship with Jake.
“I am worried about Tano,” Jake said.
“Do you think he can be trusted tonight?”
“I think so. He’s committed, just nervous. We both are.” Jake was fishing. “You should be here with us.”
“I am there with you.”
“I don’t understand why you need a Ph.D. You already know everything you need to lead this organization.”
“If we are ever going to make a real difference, I need to know the science.” It was true, but she had also come back to help her parents, who had been farmers in the Valley and were now dying from respiratory illnesses.
“Whatever you say, Dr. Kato…Are you worried about us?”
“Of course I’m worried about you.”
“Then it’s not over.”
Why the hell do I have to deal with my troops falling for me? “It’s over, Jake.”
“You’ve met someone?”
“No.”
“It’s not over until you sleep with someone else. Not until you’ve got the smell of someone else on your skin,” Jake said. Connie regretted her recent night with Skilling. She remembered how she had showered for an hour in scalding-hot water to try to get his scent off her body. She knew Jake would go ballistic if he knew that another man had slept with his girlfriend—even his ex-girlfriend. She had wanted to tell Elizabeth but was embarrassed and hadn’t yet worked up the courage.
“Stay focused, Jake. Where’s Tano?”
“He just walked in.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“He can hear you.”
“Do me proud, Tano. Do your father proud.”
Tano’s father, Koji Ito, worked for the whaling industry. They had not spoken since Tano abandoned his plans to work for the whaling fleet.
“You sure tonight is a good idea, Connie?”
“The timing is perfect—right before the vote on commercial whaling and with people worrying about Apollo. It has to be now.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Jake said, trying to encourage his comrade in arms. “Tell your friend Elizabeth that she’s a big hero over here. She’s really pissed off the Japanese Cetology Research Center.”
“How do you know?”
“Remember the back door that Yoshi hacked into their intranet? Well, he’s been reading their e-mail. Seems she’s a real publicity nightmare for them.”
“Their nightmare is just starting. You got the files I sent?”
“Yes.”
“Be careful.”
“Tell Tano and me you love us,” Jake said with nervous laughter. “Give us something to live for.”
“Love is not the only thing to live for,” Connie snapped. Then she was sorry she’d
said it. Why was it so much easier for her to hate than to love? “Be safe tonight,” she added quickly.
FORTY
5:45 P.M.
Davis
ELIZABETH PUSHED through the glass doors of Haring Hall. Her nausea had subsided. She wanted to hear—and at the same time did not want to hear—whether her committee had started reading, although she doubted it. Skilling often left early and would be long gone. The thought was a source of relief as she opened the wooden door to the department. She could focus on the recordings and hopefully come up with something that might help Lieutenant James save Apollo.
She turned on the lights and wondered if she had stepped into the wrong office. Her desktop computer and sound equipment were missing. The modular desk where she worked was empty—even her papers and coffee cup were gone.
“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to tell you myself.”
She spun around and was facing Skilling. “What happened to my computer…and my data?”
“The committee reviewed your dissertation all morning and announced their decision at the department meeting this afternoon.”
“Already? What was your decision?”
“I’m afraid the committee thought your conclusions were unsubstantiated, and they decided not to approve your dissertation.”
“So you want me to revise it?”
“The department voted to terminate your candidacy, Elizabeth, effective immediately.”
“You’re kicking me out?”
“Not me. The department.”
“Is this personal? Because I challenged you at the slough?”
“Elizabeth, this has nothing to do with me. I have always had your best interests at heart.”
Eye of the Whale Page 15
