The Swarm: A Novel

by Frank Schätzing

  ‘Meat that our businesses have knowingly contaminated.’

  ‘That’s something we’re working on with those responsible.’

  ‘I get it.’ The reporter made a note of something. ‘I was thinking in particular of the people where you come from, Dr…’

  ‘I come from round here,’ said Anawak curtly.

  The journalist stared at him in surprise.

  No wonder, thought Anawak. The poor guy had been snapped at for doing his homework.

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ the man responded. ‘I meant where you came from originally—’

  ‘Very little whale or seal flesh is consumed in British Columbia,’ Anawak interrupted. ‘By contrast, relatively high levels of toxins have been recorded among inhabitants of the Arctic Circle, in Greenland, Iceland, Alaska and further north in Nunavut, but also in Siberia, the Kamchatka peninsula and the Aleutian Islands. In other words, everywhere that marine mammals are part of the staple diet. It doesn’t matter where the mammals pick up the toxins because they migrate.’

  ‘Do you think the whales know they’re being poisoned?’ asked a student.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But in your books you say that they’re intelligent. If only they realised there was a problem with their food…’

  ‘Humans carry on smoking until they need an amputation or die of lung cancer. They’re aware of the problem but it doesn’t stop them. And humans are a good deal smarter than whales.’

  ‘How can you be sure? It might be the other way round.’

  Anawak made an effort to answer politely. ‘You have to see whales as whales. They’re highly specialised, but specialisation brings with it certain limitations. An orca is a streamlined living torpedo, but that comes at the expense of legs, hands, facial expressions and stereoscopic vision. They’re not like humans. Orcas are probably cleverer than dogs. Belugas are intelligent enough to know who they are, and dolphins certainly have a unique brain. But take a moment to think about what they achieve with all that. Whales and dolphins share a habitat with fish and have a similar way of life, but fish get by with only a few neurons.’

  Anawak was almost relieved to hear his mobile buzz. He signalled to Fenwick to carry on with the autopsy and took a few paces away from the group.

  ‘Leon,’ said Shoemaker, ‘Can you prise yourself away?’

  ‘Maybe. What’s wrong?’

  ‘He’s back.’

  This time Anawak was so angry he could barely contain himself. A few days ago, when he’d been called back to Vancouver Island in a hurry, Jack Greywolf and his Seaguards had disappeared, leaving two boatfuls of disgruntled tourists in their wake. Shoemaker had been besieged by people complaining at being filmed and stared at like animals, and had only just succeeded in calming them down, in some cases by handing out free tickets. After that, things had seemed to return to normal. But Jack Greywolf had caused an upset, exactly as he’d hoped.

  Back at the station they’d gone over all the options. Was it better to ignore the protesters or take action against them? If they made an official complaint they would give Greywolf a forum. People like him were as much of an irritation to serious environmental organisations as they were to the whale-watching business, but in the media uproar, an unsuspecting public would receive distorted information. Many would sympathise with Greywolf, without knowing the facts.

  They’d decided to ignore him.

  Perhaps, thought Anawak, as he steered the motorboat along the coast through Clayoquot Sound, that was a mistake. Maybe a simple letter of complaint would have satisfied Greywolf’s need for acknowledgement. Anything to show he’d made an impact.

  He scanned the surface of the ocean. The Zodiac was racing through the water and he didn’t want to risk scaring or hurting a whale. Several times he spotted flukes in the distance, and once he saw glistening black fins cutting through the water not far from the boat. He kept in radio-contact with Susan Stringer on the Blue Shark. ‘What are they doing?’ he asked. ‘They’re not getting physical, are they?’

  The walkie-talkie crackled. ‘No,’ came Stringer’s voice. ‘They’re taking photos like last time, and yelling at us.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two boatfuls - Greywolf and another guy in one boat, and three in the second. Oh, God, they’ve started to sing.’

  Anawak heard a faint rhythmic sound above the radio interference.

  ‘They’re drumming,’ Stringer bellowed. ‘Greywolf’s beating a rhythm and the others are chanting Indian songs.’

  ‘Keep calm. Don’t let yourself be provoked. I’ll be with you in a moment.’

  ‘Leon? What kind of Indian is this asshole?’

  ‘He’s a con artist,’ said Anawak, ‘not an Indian.’

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘His mother’s half Indian, but that’s as far as it goes. His real name is Jack O’Bannon.’

  Anawak sped on towards the boats. The noise of the drum floated over the water.

  ‘Jack O’Bannon,’ said Stringer slowly. I’ve got a good mind to—’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing. Can you see me now?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sit tight.’

  Anawak stowed his radio and turned the boat towards the open water. At last he could see what was happening. The Blue Shark and the Lady Wexham were in the middle of a group of humpbacks that had spread out across the sea. From time to time flukes disappeared under the waves or a cloud of droplets rose into the air. The Lady Wexham’s white hull shimmered in the sunlight. Two small, dilapidated sport-fishing boats with red-painted hulls were circling the Blue Shark tightly.

  If Greywolf had noticed Anawak approaching, he didn’t let on. He was standing in the boat, banging a drum and chanting. The people on the other boat, two men and a woman, were shouting insults and curses. Every now and then they took pictures of the Blue Shark’s passengers and pelted them with something that sparkled. Fish scraps, Anawak realised The people on the Blue Shark ducked. Anawak felt like ramming Greywolf’s boat and watching as the man toppled overboard, but he restrained himself.

  He pulled up close to the boats and shouted, ‘Quit drumming, Jack. Let’s talk.’

  Greywolf ignored him.

  A male voice came over the radio: ‘Hello, Leon. Good to see you.’

  It was the Lady Wexham’s skipper. The boat was about a hundred metres away. The people on the top deck were leaning over the rails, staring at the beleaguered Zodiac. Some were taking photos.

  ‘Everything OK at your end?’ asked Anawak.

  ‘Fine. What are we going to do about the bastards?’

  ‘I’ll try the peaceful approach.’

  ‘If you want me to run them down for you, just say the word.’

  The Blue Shark was being jostled by the Seaguards’ motorboats. Greywolf swayed as his boat hit the inflatable, but he carried on drumming. The feathers on his hat quivered in the wind. Behind the boats a fluke rose into the air and disappeared again, but no one had eyes for the whales.

  ‘Hey, Leon! Leon!’ One of the Blue Shark’s passengers was waving at him - Alicia Delaware. She was bouncing up and down. ‘Who are those guys? What are they doing here?’

  Anawak did a double-take. The other day she had told him she was about to leave the island. But right now it didn’t matter.

  He manoeuvred his Zodiac towards Greywolf’s boat and drew up at right angles to it. He clapped his hands loudly. ‘All right, Jack, you can stop now. Tell us what you want.’

  Greywolf increased the volume. His monotonous chant rose and fell like an aggressive dirge.

  ‘For God’s sake, Jack!’

  The noise stopped. Greywolf faced Anawak. ‘Do you want something?’

  ‘Tell your people to back off. Then we can talk about whatever you like, so long as you tell them to stop.’

  Greywolf’s face contorted with rage. ‘We’re not backing off.’

  ‘What’s your point, Greywolf? Why all the fuss?’

&n
bsp; ‘I tried to tell you at the aquarium but you wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘I didn’t have time.’

  ‘And I don’t have time to talk to you now.’ His supporters laughed and jeered.

  Anawak nearly lost his temper. ‘I’m going to make you an offer, Jack,’ he said, as calmly as he could. ‘You call this off, and we’ll meet tonight at Davie’s. Then you can tell us what you’d like us to do.’

  ‘Just keep away from here.’

  ‘But why? What harm are we doing?’

  Two dark islands surfaced next to the boat, textured and mottled like weathered stone. Grey whales. It would have made an amazing photo, but Greywolf had ruined the day.

  ‘Turn back,’ shouted Greywolf. He stared at the Blue Shark’s passengers and lifted his arms imploringly. ‘Turn back and leave the whales in peace. Live in harmony with nature. Your boats are polluting the air and the ocean. Whales are being hounded so you can take photos. This place belongs to them. Go home. You don’t belong here!’

  What a load of garbage, thought Anawak. Surely even Greywolf didn’t believe it. But his supporters cheered.

  ‘Come on, Jack! We’re here to protect the whales, remember? Whale-watching helps us to understand them. It lets people see them in new light. It’s not in their interest for you to disrupt our work.’

  ‘Their interest? You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ Greywolf jeered. ‘Can you read their minds, Mr Scientist?’

  ‘Jack, drop all the Indian crap. What do you want?

  ‘Publicity,’ Greywolf said.

  ‘And how are you going to get that here?’ Anawak waved his hand at the ocean. ‘There’s just a couple of boats and a few people. Let’s talk about this properly and get some real publicity. Both sides can put forward their arguments, and may the best side win.’

  ‘Pathetic,’ said Greywolf. ‘Listen to the voice of the white man.’

  Anawak lost his patience. ‘That’s crap and you know it. You’re more of a white man than I am, O’Bannon. Get real.’

  For a moment Greywolf stared at him. Then a grin spread across his face. He pointed to the Lady Wexham. ‘Why do you think the people on your boat are so interested in filming us?’

  ‘Because of you and your mumbo-jumbo.’

  ‘Exactly,’ laughed Greywolf. ‘You got it in one.’

  Then it dawned on Anawak. The people on the Lady Wexham weren’t tourists: they were reporters whom Greywolf had invited for the show.

  The son-of-a-bitch.

  He was about to make a suitably cutting response, when he noticed that Greywolf was still staring at the Lady Wexham. Anawak followed his gaze, and gasped.

  A humpback had catapulted itself out of the water just in front of the boat. For a moment it looked as though it was balancing on its flukes. Only the tip of its tail was still submerged as it towered above the Lady Wexham’s bridge. The throat grooves on its lower jaw and underbelly were clearly visible. Its long pectoral fins stuck out like wings, two shiny white appendages with dark markings and knobbly edges. A loud ooh! went up as the gigantic body tipped slowly to one side and hit the water in an explosion of spray.

  The people on the top deck shrank back. Part of the Lady Wexham disappeared behind a wall of foam. But the jet of water had cloaked another dark shape. In a mantle of mist and water a second whale surged up from the waves. This time it was even closer to the vessel. Even before the cry of horror went up, Anawak knew that the leap had gone wrong.

  The whale hit the Lady Wexham with such force that the vessel rocked violently. There was a cracking, splintering sound. The whale dived down, and people on the top deck were thrown to the floor. The sea around the craft foamed and boiled, then several humpbacks rose to the surface. Two dark bodies launched themselves into the air and hurled themselves at the hull.

  ‘Vengeance!’ shrieked Greywolf. There was a hysterical edge to his voice.

  The Lady Wexham was twenty-two metres long, far longer than any humpback whale. She had a permit from the Ministry of Transport and conformed to the Canadian Coast Guard’s safety standards, which required passenger vessels to be able to withstand rough seas, metre-high breakers and the occasional collision with a lethargic whale. The Lady Wexham had been designed to cope with all such misfortunes. But she hadn’t been designed to contend with an attack.

  From across the water Anawak heard her engines start. Pandemonium broke out on the two viewing decks, and screams of terror echoed over the waves. People were pushing past each other in blind panic. The Lady Wexham started to move, but a whale rose out of the water, catapulting itself against the bridge. Even this assault wasn’t enough to capsize her, but now she was pitching dangerously, as debris rained into the water.

  Anawak knew he had to do something. Maybe he could distract the whales. His hand reached for the throttle.

  At that moment another scream pierced the air, but this time it was coming from behind him. Anawak spun round.

  He was just in time to see the body of an enormous humpback surge vertically out of the water, looking almost weightless. It rose, ten, twelve metres into the air and, for a heartbeat it hung above the little red motorboat with the three protestors.

  Anawak had never seen anything so terrifying, and yet so beautiful at such close range.

  ‘Oh dear God no,’ he whispered.

  As if in slow motion the body gently tipped and started falling. A shadow descended on the little red motorboat, then swallowed the Blue Shark’s bow. It grew longer and longer as the enormous body plummeted downwards, travelling faster by the second…

  Anawak jammed down the throttle. Greywolf’s boat was also quick off the mark - heading straight for Anawak. The two boats collided and Greywolf’s driver disappeared overboard but Anawak didn’t stop. Before his eyes, thirty tonnes of humpback crashed on to the motorboat, burying it and its crew in the water, and hitting the front of the Blue Shark. The Zodiac’s stern flipped up at right-angles to the water, sending its load of orange-clad passengers spinning through the spray.

  It was a chilling sight. The campaigners’ boat had been reduced to splinters and the Blue Shark was drifting upside-down. The water was full of people, shouting and paddling wildly. Their orange suits had inflated automatically to keep them afloat but some lay still on the water, killed by the weight of the whale. Across the waves, the Lady Wexham was surrounded by flukes and fins. He watched as she picked up speed, listing severely.

  Anawak picked his way slowly through the drifting bodies, trying to avoid causing more injuries. He flipped on to channel 98 and reported his position. ‘We’re in trouble,’ he barked. ‘Casualties and maybe fatalities.’ Every boat in the area would pick up his distress signal. He didn’t have time to say more or to explain what had happened - there’d been a dozen or so passengers on the Blue Shark, plus Stringer and her deputy, then the three protestors in the motorboat, seventeen in all.

  ‘Leon!’ Stringer was swimming towards him. Anawak grabbed her hand and pulled her aboard, then spotted dorsal fins in the water not far from his boat. The orcas’ black heads and backs poked out of the water as they sped towards the carnage.

  They were moving with a single-mindedness that made his stomach lurch.

  Alicia Delaware was floating nearby. She was holding the head of a young man whose orange suit hadn’t inflated. Anawak steered the boat towards her, then he and Stringer hauled the unconscious man and the girl on board. Others were swimming towards them now, stretching out their arms to be pulled out of the water. The boat was filling rapidly. It was much smaller than the Blue Shark and already overloaded. Frantically they kept pulling people in, while Anawak scanned the sea for bodies.

  ‘There’s one!’ shouted Stringer.

  A man was floating motionless in the water, face down, no suit - a protester from the motorboat.

  Anawak and Stringer grabbed him by the arms and lifted him.

  He wasn’t especially heavy.

  Not nearly heavy enough.


  His head lolled back and his eyes stared blankly. His body ended at the waist, torn flesh, arteries and intestines dangled from the torso, blood dripping over the waves.

  Stringer gasped and let go, then Anawak lost his grip and the corpse splashed back into the water.

  All around the boat, sword-like fins swirled through the waves. There were at least ten of them, maybe more. A blow sent the boat spinning. Anawak leaped to the wheel, opened the throttle and sped off. Three vast backs rose out of the water before him. He swerved and the whales dived. Two more appeared on the other side, heading straight for the boat. Anawak swerved again. He heard screaming and crying and panic took hold of him, but somehow he steered the Zodiac past the black-and-white bodies blocking their escape.

  There was a crunching sound. He swung round in time to see the Lady Wexham shudder and heel in a cloud of spray. In that split second of inattentiveness, the Zodiac’s fate was sealed. A giant tail was already hurtling towards the boat.

  The Zodiac flew into the air and flipped over.

  Anawak soared up, past a cloud of spray, then plummeted down into the ocean. It was bitingly cold. He kicked with all his might, and fought his way up to the surface. Gasping, he was pushed back down. Seized by panic he thrashed about, paddling madly until, spluttering, he surfaced again. There was no sign of the boat or any of its passengers. The coastline bobbed into view. He was lifted by a wave and at last he saw some of the others. - half a dozen at most. Then gleaming black blades cut through the surf and dived down. A head jerked under and didn’t resurface.

  An elderly woman saw the man vanish. ‘The boat! Where is it?’ she shrieked.

  Where was the boat? It was too far for them to swim ashore. The woman’s screams became more desperate.

  Anawak swam over to her. She saw him coming and stretched out her arms. ‘Please! You’ve got to help me.’

  ‘I’m going to,’ called Anawak. ‘Just try to stay calm.’

  ‘I can’t keep my head up. I’m sinking.’

  ‘You won’t sink.’ He took deep long strokes to reach her. ‘The suit won’t let you.’