The Swarm: A Novel

by Frank Schätzing

He shook her hand.

  ‘OK. Now, there’s something we need to settle.’

  Anawak looked at Stringer for help, but she was steering the Zodiac. ‘Such as?’ he asked cautiously.

  ‘The other day at the aquarium I was acting like a stupid know-it-all and I’m sorry.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Now it’s your turn to apologise.’

  ‘What for?’

  She glanced away. ‘I didn’t mind you criticising my arguments in front of other people - but you shouldn’t have mentioned my appearance.’

  ‘Your appearance? I didn’t…Oh God.’

  ‘You said that if a beluga saw me doing my makeup, it would have to question my intelligence.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  Anawak ran his hand over his thick black hair. He’d been annoyed with the girl for turning up, as he saw it, with preconceived ideas, then drawing attention to herself through her ignorance, but his angry words had hurt her. ‘All right. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’

  ‘You were citing Povinelli,’ he said.

  She smiled. It was proof that he was taking her seriously. In the debate about intelligence and self-awareness in primates and other animals, Daniel Povinelli was Gallup’s principal critic. He supported Gallup’s theory that chimpanzees who recognised themselves in the mirror must have some idea of who they were, but he rejected the claim that this meant they understood their own mental state and therefore that of others. In fact, Povinelli was far from being convinced that any animal was endowed with the psychological understanding common to humans.

  ‘It takes guts to say what he’s saying,’ said Delaware. ‘Povinelli’s ideas seem so old-fashioned, while things are easier for Gallup - everyone likes to claim that chimpanzees and dolphins are on a par with humans.’

  ‘Which they are,’ said Anawak.

  ‘Ethically speaking, yes.’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with it. Ethics are a human invention.’

  ‘No one would contest that. Least of all Povinelli.’

  Anawak looked out over the bay. Some of the smaller islets were coming into view. After a while he said, ‘I know what you’re trying to say. You think it shouldn’t be necessary to prove that animals are like humans to treat them humanely.’

  ‘It’s arrogant,’ Delaware said fiercely.

  ‘You’re right. It doesn’t solve anything. And yet most people would be lost without the idea that life increases in value the more it resembles our own. We still find it easier to kill animals than people. It gets tricky when you start seeing animals as relatives of mankind. Most people are aware that humans and animals are related, but they like to think of themselves as the pinnacle of creation. Few will admit that other forms of life might be as precious as their own. And that creates a dilemma: how can they treat animals or plants with the same respect as other humans when they think that the life of an ant, an ape or a dolphin is worth less than their own?’

  ‘Hey!’ She clapped her hands. ‘You think the same as I do after all.’

  ‘Almost. I think you’re a bit, er, dogmatic in your approach. I believe that chimpanzees and belugas do have a certain amount in common with us psychologically.’ Anawak held up his hand before she could protest. ‘OK, let me put it another way. I’d say that humanity rises in the estimation of belugas the more they discover that humanity has in common with them. Assuming whales care about such things.’ He grinned. ‘Who knows? Some belugas might even think we’re intelligent. Does that sound better?’

  Delaware wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Sea-lions!’ Stringer called out. ‘Over there!’

  Anawak shielded his eyes with his hand and squinted in the direction she was pointing. They were coming up to a tree-lined island. A group of Stellar sea-lions were sunning themselves on the rocks.

  ‘This isn’t about Gallup or Povinelli, is it?’ said Anawak, picking up his camera. He zoomed in and took a few shots of the sea-lions. ‘So why not change the terms of the debate? There’s no hierarchy of life-forms in nature: it’s a human concept, and it needn’t concern us now. We both agree that it’s wrong to treat animals like humans. That said, I think it’s within our power to gain a limited insight into the psychology of animals - to understand them intellectually, if you like. What’s more, I’m convinced that certain animals have more in common with us than others and that one day we’ll find a way of communicating with them. You, on the other hand, take the view that non-human forms of life will always be a mystery to us. We can’t get inside the head of an animal, ergo, we can’t communicate. Which leaves us with the fact of our difference. So you’re saying we should hurry up and get used to the idea, and leave the poor creatures in peace.’

  The Zodiac slowed to pass the sea-lions. Stringer imparted some information about them, while the tourists got out their cameras.

  ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ said Delaware, finally. She said scarcely another word until they reached the open water.

  Anawak was content. It was good to start the trip with some sea-lions: it had put the tourists in a good mood.

  Soon a herd of grey whales had appeared. Greys were slightly smaller than humpbacks, but still imposingly large. Some swam within a short distance of the boat and peeped briefly out of the water - to the delight of everyone on board. They looked like enormous moving pebbles, with their mottled grey skin and powerful jaws covered with barnacles, copepods and whale lice. Most of the tourists were filming frenetically or taking photos. The others looked on in silence, visibly moved. Anawak had seen grown men cry at the sight of a whale rising out of the water.

  Three other Zodiacs and a bigger boat with a solid hull waited nearby, engines switched off. Stringer radioed the details of the sighting. They were all committed to responsible whale-watching - but that wasn’t enough for the likes of Jack Greywolf.

  Greywolf was a dangerous jerk. Anawak didn’t like the sound of tourist-watching. If it came to the crunch, the media would side with Greywolf - initially, at least. He and the others at the station could be as conscientious and careful as they liked, but a protest from an animal-rights group, however disreputable, would reinforce people’s prejudices against whale-watching. No one bothered to distinguish between serious organisations and fanatics like Greywolf and his Seaguards. That only happened later, when the press got hold of the true facts and the damage had been done.

  Anawak scanned the ocean intently, camera at the ready. Maybe he’d succumbed to paranoia after his meeting with the humpbacks. Had he been imagining things or were those whales behaving oddly?

  ‘Over there, on the right!’ Stringer shouted.

  Inside the Zodiac all heads turned. Not far from the boat some grey whales were diving in glorious close-up. They looked as though they were waving with their flukes. Anawak was busy taking pictures for the archive. Shoemaker would have jumped for joy at the sight of it. It was a picture-perfect trip - as though the whales had decided to make up for their absence by putting on a real performance. Further out to sea three large ones stuck their heads out of the water.

  ‘Those aren’t grey whales, are they?’ said Delaware, chewing gum.

  ‘Humpbacks.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I don’t see any humps, though.’

  ‘There aren’t any. They make a hump when they dive, arching their backs in the water.’

  ‘I thought it was because of the lumps on their mouths. Those bumpy things.’

  Anawak sighed. ‘You’re not trying to start another argument, are you?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She gesticulated excitedly. ‘Hey! Look over there! What are they up to?’

  The heads of the three humpbacks had shot up through the surface. Their enormous mouths were wide open, revealing their tongues hanging down from their narrow upper jaws. The baleen plates were clearly visible and the throat grooves looked as if they were straining. A column of water rose up between them, with glints of som
ething that sparkled in the light. Tiny fish, twitching frantically in the air. From out of nowhere flocks of gulls and loons appeared, circled, then plunged down to share the feast.

  ‘They’re feeding,’ said Anawak, while he photographed the scene.

  ‘Unbelievable! They look like they could eat us.’

  ‘Licia! Try not to make yourself sound dumber than you seem.’

  Delaware pushed her gum from one side of her mouth to the other. ‘I was joking,’ she said. ‘I know perfectly well that humpbacks eat krill and other little fish, but this is the first time I’ve seen them feeding. I thought they just swam with their mouths open.’

  ‘That’s how Eubalaena feed - right whales,’ said Stringer, turning. ‘Humpbacks swim under shoals of fish or copepods and surround them with a net of bubbles. Small organisms don’t like turbulent water, so they swim away from the bubbles and cluster together. Then the whales lunge out of the water, expand their throat grooves and start to gulp.’

  ‘Don’t try to explain it to her,’ said Anawak. ‘She knows it all already.’

  ‘To gulp?’ echoed Delaware.

  Rorqual whales gulp-feed. They expand their throat grooves, which is why they look as though they’ve been puffed up. As the grooves open up, the throat turns into an enormous pouch, which the whale fills with food. In one huge mouthful the krill and fish are sucked in. The seawater drains out, but the prey is stuck in the baleen.’

  Anawak squeezed in next to Stringer. Delaware must have sensed he wanted to talk to her privately because she made her way unsteadily out of the cabin towards the passengers in the front and started to explain gulp-feeding.

  After a few moments Anawak asked softly, ‘How do they seem to you?’

  ‘Weird question.’ Stringer thought about it. ‘Same as always, I suppose. How do they seem to you?’

  ‘You think they look normal?’

  ‘Sure. They’re putting on a great show, though. In fact, I’d say they’re having the time of their lives.’

  ‘So you don’t think they’ve changed?’

  She squinted across at them. The sunshine glistened on the water. A mottled grey body rose to the surface, then disappeared again. ‘Changed?’ she said slowly. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You know I told you about the megapterae that suddenly appeared either side of the boat?’ At the last second he chose to use the humpbacks’ scientific name. What he was thinking was mad, but at least when he put it like that it sounded half-way serious.

  ‘So what?’

  ‘It was weird.’

  ‘That’s what you told me. Humpbacks on either side of you. Some people have all the luck - an experience like that, and I missed it.’

  ‘It was like they were checking me out…They looked like they were up to something.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘It wasn’t nice.’

  ‘Wasn’t nice?’ Stringer shook her head in disbelief. ‘Are you feeling OK? I’d give anything to be so close to them. If only it had been me!’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d been there. You wouldn’t have liked it at all. I’m still trying to figure out which of us was watching whom. And why…’

  ‘Leon, they’re whales, not spies.’

  He passed his hand over his eyes. ‘Forget it. I must have been mistaken.’

  There was a crackle from Stringer’s walkie-talkie. Tom Shoemaker’s voice screeched through. ‘Susan? Tune into ninety-nine.’

  They were currently on ninety-eight, the frequency used by various whale-watching stations to send and receive messages. It was a practical arrangement that allowed them to keep up with all the different sightings. Tofino Air and the coastguards also used the channel, as, regrettably, did various sport fishermen, whose idea of whale-watching was considerly less sophisticated. Each station had its own frequency for private conversations. Stringer switched over.

  ‘Is Leon with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She passed the walkie-talkie to Anawak, who took it and spoke to Shoemaker for a while. Then he said, ‘All right, I’ll do it. No, it doesn’t matter that it’s short notice. Tell them I’ll fly over as soon as we’re back. Catch you later.’

  ‘What was all that about?’ asked Stringer, as he handed her the radio.

  ‘A request from Inglewood.’

  ‘The shipping line?’

  ‘Tom had a call from the directorate. They didn’t say much except they needed my help and it was urgent. He had the impression they would have liked to beam me over.’

  Inglewood had sent a helicopter. Less than two hours after his radio conversation with Shoemaker, Anawak was in the air watching the spectacular landscape of Vancouver Island unfold beneath him. Hills covered with fir trees gave way to rocky mountain peaks connected by shimmering rivers and turquoise lakes. But even the island’s beauty couldn’t disguise the ravages of logging. The deforestation of vast swathes of land was all too evident.

  They left Vancouver Island and flew over the bustling Strait of Georgia. The Rockies, peaks dotted with snow, ran along the horizon, while towers of pink and blue glass lined the sweeping bay, where seaplanes soared and dipped in the air like colourful birds.

  The pilot radioed ground control. The helicopter dropped down, banked and headed for the docks. Minutes later they landed. Stacks of cedar towered on either side of them, while mounds of coal and sulphur rose in cubist-style arrangements from the wharf. A colossal cargo vessel was moored nearby. A man detached himself from a group of people and headed over. The wind from the helicopter’s rotor ruffled his hair. He was wearing a long coat, and hunched his shoulders against the blast. Anawak unbuckled his seatbelt and made ready to disembark.

  The man opened the door for him. He was in his early sixties, tall and well-built, with a round, friendly face and intelligent eyes. He smiled at Anawak and held out his hand. ‘Clive Roberts,’ he said, ‘managing director.’

  Anawak followed him to the others, who were inspecting a freighter. They seemed to be a mixture of crew members and people in suits. They were walking along the starboard side of the boat, staring up at it, pausing, then setting off again.

  ‘It’s very good of you to come at such short notice,’ said Roberts. ‘We wouldn’t normally call and expect you to come running, but it was urgent.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Anawak. ‘What are we looking at?’

  ‘An accident. We think.’

  ‘Involving that freighter?’

  ‘Yes, the Barrier Queen. Although it’s more to do with the tugboats that were supposed to be bringing her home.’

  ‘You know I’m a cetologist, right? An expert in animal behaviour? Whales and dolphins.’

  ‘That’s exactly what we need.’

  Roberts introduced him to the others. Three were from the shipping line’s management team; the rest were representatives from the technical contractors. A short distance away two men were unloading dive equipment from a truck. Anawak looked into the circle of worried faces, then Roberts took him to one side.

  ‘Unfortunately we can’t speak to the crew right now,’ he said, ‘but I’ll forward a confidential copy of the report as soon as it’s available. We don’t want to involve any more people than are absolutely necessary. Can I count on your discretion?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. I’ll give you a rundown on what’s happened, and when I’m done, you can make up your own mind whether you want to stick around or fly home. Either way we’ll reimburse you for your trouble and expense.’

  ‘It’s no trouble.’

  Roberts looked at him gratefully. ‘The Barrier Queen is fairly new. When she sailed, everything was in A-1 condition and it’s all been properly certified. She’s a sixty-thousand-tonne freighter that we’ve been using to transport HGVs, mostly to Japan and back. We’ve had no trouble with her until now. We put a lot of money into making sure our boats are safe - more than strictly necessary. Anyway, the Barrier Queen was on her way home, fully
laden.’

  Anawak nodded.

  ‘Six days ago she reached the edge of the two-hundred-mile zone on her way into Vancouver. It was three in the morning. The helmsman changed course by five degrees - a routine correction. He didn’t bother checking the display: he could see the lights on a vessel ahead, which gave him perfect visual reference. He waited for the lights to shift right, but they stayed where they were. The Barrier Queen was heading straight on. He tried moving the rudder again, but there was no noticeable change in direction, so he went for full rudder, and suddenly it worked. The trouble was, it worked too well.’

  ‘She hit the other vessel?’

  ‘No, she was too far away for that. But the rudder blade seemed to have jammed. Nothing could budge it. Just imagine: a speed of twenty knots and you’re stuck on full rudder…A ship of that size isn’t simply going to stop. She heeled with her cargo. A ten-degree heel - do you know what that means?’

  ‘I can guess.’

  ‘The drainage system for the vehicle deck is located just above the waterline. In rough conditions the water floods in, then pours straight back out, but at an angle like that the drainage holes would be submerged. It wouldn’t take a second for the ship to fill with water. Luckily for us, the sea was calm that day, but the situation was still critical. The rudder had stuck.’

  ‘So what was wrong with it?’

  ‘We can’t be sure…but one thing’s certain: that was when the trouble really started. The Barrier Queen stopped her engines, radioed a mayday and waited for help. It was clear she wasn’t seaworthy. Several ships in the vicinity changed course to head over in case they were needed. In the meantime two salvage boats set out from Vancouver. They arrived two and a half days later, in the early afternoon. One sixty-metre deep-sea tug and one twenty-five-metre craft. The trickiest part of any rescue operation is to get the rope from the tug to land safely on the vessel. In bad weather it can take hours: first a thin line, then a slightly thicker one, then a heavy-duty cable. It’s an interminable procedure. But in this case, well, there should have been no problem. Conditions were good and the water was calm. But the tug was obstructed.’