MEG: Nightstalkers (5 page)

“Wow. She’s hyperkinetic. When did she become so aggressive?”

“Zahra is very territorial. All her life she has lived under the threat of her larger siblings. Now she is queen of her realm. Queen Zahra, we call her.”

Monty moved closer to watch the Megalodon circle the enormous habitat. “And if the queen should birth a litter of princesses? How will you get them out of her tank before she kills them?”

David glanced at the aquarium director, who had a perplexed look on his face. “This needs to be discussed with our new head trainer. Dr. McDonnell is waiting for us in the Devonian arena.”

Occupying exhibit T-1, the Devonian annex featured six pillar-shaped million-gallon aquariums situated in the gallery leading to the main tank. Five were empty; the sixth was occupied by more than a dozen small sharks. The
Stethacanthus
were three to five feet long, with narrow bodies and a blunt head resembling that of a tiger shark. What distinguished the species from other modern-day sharks was an anvil-shaped crest which functioned like a dorsal fin.

Standing by the tank while speaking into a handheld digital recorder was a heavyset Mexican-American in his mid-forties; a former athlete who had traded the gym for the lab. He acknowledged the approaching trio with a wave.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? We netted the mother last month. She died en route but we were able to salvage her eggs. These sharks are the first Panthalassa predators born in captivity.” He offered his hand to Monty. “Matthew McDonnell; I’m the new marine biologist.”

“Do you know forty-eight percent of smart-phone owners watch videos in the bathroom?”

The scientist looked to David. “Am I missing something?”

“No, but he is. David Taylor. What happened to Barbara Becker?”

“The Defense Department recruited her to head up a marine lab in Miami. Something about using shark stem cells to repair damaged spinal cords. Let’s go inside the gallery, the Crown Prince is waiting for us by the main tank.”

David’s heart raced as he remembered the monster contained in T-1.

Dunkleosteus …

The four-ton predator swam in awkward lurches behind the aquarium’s thick glass, its round eyes watching the Crown Prince, who was seated in the second row. The placoderm’s thick, armor-covered hide appeared dark brown, its belly reflecting a silvery hue. The creature’s head was rounded and blunt, its midsection barrel-chested and as wide around as a school bus. The tail was thick and upper-lobe dominant, capable of only sluggish movements. The Dunk more than made up for that with powerful jaws, which contained two long, bony blades instead of teeth. Cusped and deeply serrated from the shearing action generated by the double upper fangs constantly sliding past the lower incisors, the blades were backed by jowls possessing a bite force in excess of eight thousand pounds.

The Crown Prince turned and signaled his guests and staff to join him.

“I love this creature; I could sit and watch it for hours. I especially enjoy watching it feed. It’s a rather slow swimmer, but its mouth opens in a fiftieth of a second, creating a powerful suction that literally pulls its prey into its gullet. The Dunk remains my favorite exhibit … at least until we capture the
Liopleurodon
.”

He turned to David. “
Liopleurodon
fossils have been found throughout Europe, and yet these creatures were but half the size of the monster who stalked you in the Panthalassa Sea. Dr. McDonnell, tell him why our Lio is so much larger—so big in fact that I am forced to build an even larger arena to contain it.”

“Bergmann’s Rule,” the marine biologist replied. “A century and a half ago, a German biologist by the name of Carl Bergmann observed that animals tend to be larger at higher latitudes than they are at the equator, correlating colder ocean temperatures with increased body size. The lower the ratio of body mass to surface area, the less heat loss an animal will experience.”

The Crown Prince turned to David. “What was the water temperature in the area of the Panthalassa Sea where you first encountered the
Liopleurodon
?”

“Freezing. The Panthalassa was segregated into hot vent areas and cold seeps. The creature preferred a chilly habitat. You’re saying the Panthalassa Lios grew much larger than their reptilian ancestors in order to stay warm?”

“Precisely,” Dr. McDonnell said.

The Crown Prince stood, his movement eliciting a response from the Dunk. “David, no one knows that monster better than you. I would love to hire you and your friend to join my cousin in hunting down the Lio … only I can’t.”

David felt a knot in his stomach. “Why not?”

“Because you seek to kill this magnificent creature, just to avenge the death of this Szeifert girl … a girl you barely knew.”

“I give you my word, I won’t kill it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Test me. Let me prove it to you!”

The Crown Prince stared at the San Francisco Giants sweatbands covering David’s wrists. “There are two converted supertankers engaged in hunting down several predatory species that fled the Panthalassa Sea. The
Mogamigawa
is in the Western Pacific heading north toward Japan; her sister ship, the
Tonga,
is after the Lio, which is heading south. Prove to me your motives are pure aboard the
Mogamigawa.
Pilot one of the Manta subs and help the crew capture these creatures and I’ll allow you to join my cousin aboard the
Tonga.”

David exhaled. “What about Monty? My friend needs a job.”

“He can join the crew as a deckhand.”

Monty shrugged. “Beats living in my cousin’s garage.”

“Dr. Al Hashemi will take you to your hotel. Spend a few days resting poolside. We’ll fly you out on the next cargo plane bound for the
Mogamigawa.”

The aquarium director led David and Monty out, leaving the Crown Prince and the marine biologist alone to talk in private.

“Is he really worth it, Your Highness?”

“The girl’s death was witnessed by both ships’ crews. After seeing the size and ferocity of the
Liopleurodon
the other pilots quit, along with a third of the deckhands aboard the
Tonga
’s trawler. In the last three months we’ve recruited a dozen more submersible pilots from around the world—Navy SEALs, Air Force pilots … none possess the reflexes or skills of David Taylor. He’s fearless, ready to put himself in harm’s way to kill that monster.”

“There’s a difference between fearless and suicidal. The kid’s as angry as Ahab, and that makes him dangerous. How do you expect to turn David’s demons into something more manageable?”

The Crown Prince smiled. “Leave that to me.”

3

Tanaka Oceanographic Institute
Monterey, California

A steady wind howled through the concrete and steel bowl, ruffling canvas canopies and rippling the azure-green surface of the man-made lagoon. Sunlight warmed the aluminum bleachers. The Pacific was more aggressive, slapping at the mammoth steel doors sealing the ocean-access canal, causing the bells atop the warning buoys to toll.

The Tanaka Institute and Lagoon: once home to the most dangerous creatures in the planet’s history; now an empty fortress.

James “Mac” Mackreides exited the elevator on the third floor. He walked past rows of vacant desks to the executive suites. The office manager—a petite blue-eyed blonde in her early forties—was seated before a computer screen, her newborn son, Kyle, swaddled in a blanket in her lap.

Patricia Mackreides looked up at her husband. “The authorities on San Juan Island couldn’t contain the story; it went viral about twenty minutes ago. Are you packed?”

“The gear’s in the chopper.”

“Mac, what are you doing?”

“My job.”

“You’re sixty-five years old. Do you really need to be chasing after sea monsters?”

“Hey, I’m a spry sixty-five. My loins just sprouted a kid.”

“My loins did the sprouting; yours couldn’t make it out of bed for his four a.m. feeding. And your pal Jonas is in worse shape, hobbling around on two bad knees. Terry said he was up all night again with his acid reflux.”

“The sisters will do that to you. This is the life we’ve chosen.”

“Don’t give me that
GodfatherII
bullshit; you’re not in the Mafia. Sell the institute and walk away from this nightmare while you still can.”

“You don’t think I want to? I spent two hours last night meeting with Tom Cubit. According to our lawyer, we’re liable for any damages inflicted by Bela and Lizzy, even though they’re no longer under our care.”

“I don’t understand. It was that radical animal rights group that broke in and released the sharks; the institute had no intention of letting them go.”

“Technically, Virgil Carmen was still employed as the institute’s assistant director of husbandry. As for the shark lovers at R.A.W., they don’t have a pot to piss in. Cubit’s right; the victim’s family will come after us.” Mac offered her his best Michael Corleone imitation, “Every time I think I’m out, they pull me back in.”

“This isn’t a joke. I didn’t marry you to be widowed before our first anniversary. Don’t you want to enjoy your son growing up? Look at what Jonas and Terry are going through with David. Is that Kyle’s destiny … to be hunting these prehistoric monsters until one kills him?”

Mac remained silent, watching his sleeping child.

“Terry’s had it, Mac. She’s ready to leave Jonas. So I’m asking you again; what are you doing?”

*   *   *

The bay windows of Jonas Taylor’s office looked out onto the man-made lagoon, the western bleachers, and the blue waters of the Pacific. Jonas adjusted the venetian blinds to filter out the reflecting rays of sunlight while he waited for the overseas call.

Like Jonas, Dr. Zachary Wallace was a marine biologist who had resolved the demons of his past by proving to the world that an ancient creature—in his case the Loch Ness monster—actually did exist. The two had met in San Francisco seven years ago while Zach was on a world tour promoting his autobiography,
The Loch
. They had become close friends and it was actually the Scottish intellect who had convinced Jonas to pen his own memoir—one of many projects he had never finished.

Three years later Angel had returned from her eighteen-year hiatus and the institute was back in business. With money to burn, the Taylors invested in a start-up alternative energy company founded by Wallace that his friend promised would one day manufacture clean energy machines designed to replace fossil fuels. Why a world-famous marine biologist like Zachary Wallace would walk away from his career to develop zero-point energy generators remained a mystery to Jonas, but he backed the brilliant inventor with $14 million in start-up costs without asking any questions—even after he refused to go public with his first line of prototypes, three of which were now being tested on the institute’s second generation of Manta submersibles.

Jonas’s iPhone chimed, chasing away his thoughts. “Zach, thanks for getting back to me.”

“No problem. I jist read about the attack in British Columbia. Whit are ye going tae do? Nothing crazy, I hope?”

“I don’t know yet. The authorities asked for my help in tracking down the sisters; I’m debating whether to recapture them or just kill ’em. What would you do?”

“Yer askin’ the man who was once the single-most despised human being in all of Scotland whether tae kill two sharks and potentially save a lot of lives, or risk yer own life tae save a business that grossed close tae a billion dollars in the last four years? The irony would be laughable if the outcome wasn’t so serious. So before I provide ye with an answer, assure me again that the new Manta subs the Crown Prince ordered are all equipped with air bags inside both cockpits.”

“You ask me this every time we talk. Yes, Dr. Wallace, the subs have air bags. Any other recurring dreams I need to pacify?”

“I’ll make a list. Which brings me tae David. Ye were right, yer son and his brain-bashed friend are in Dubai looking tae rejoin the monster quest. My source inside the aquarium tells me David leaves fer Japan in a few days, where he’ll rendezvous with the supertanker
Mogamigawa.”