The Shark Rider (25 page)

Hugh handed it to Rosina. “Try it.”

She took it hesitatingly. “That's pretty lame.”

“Just try it,” Sam urged.

In the drizzling rain out on the patio, Rosina began waving and flicking the white piece of drawstring in the air. The frigatebirds soared effortlessly over the cliffs. Staying high overhead, two glided closer to the teens.

“Look, they're looking down,” Sam said.

Rosina kept waving the string as if it was a wriggling fish. One of the birds dipped its head and dropped so that it was hovering just above her head. She laughed awkwardly.

“What's so funny?” Tristan asked.

“It asked if we're crazy or just plain stupid. Says it doesn't look anything like a fish.”

“Well, it got their attention,” Hugh noted. “See if they can help us.”

“Okay, give me a minute.”

The bird continued to hover overhead, gently rising and falling. The other frigate flew over.

“They don't like Marsh. He built over their best nesting area and is ruining the fishing. They want to know how they can help.”

“Maybe they can create a distraction so we can escape,” Tristan suggested.

“Or they could carry a note to the ship for us,” Sam added.

Rosina passed on the suggestions and the birds agreed to try the note idea. Inside the suite, Hugh
found a pen and piece of heavily scented yellow stationary. While nearly gagging on the overpowering smell of vanilla, Meg wrote a note. They rolled it up and tied it with another piece of pajama-pant drawstring. Rosina raised the note above her head and the frigatebird grabbed it with its talons. Flapping its long black wings, the bird rose high into the sky. In the strong winds aloft, it soared swiftly out of sight.

“Hope some other frigate doesn't try to steal it,” Tristan said.

They went back inside.

“Well, that's something at least,” Meg told them.

There was a soft rapping of knuckles on the door.

When the door opened, the group was surprised to see the doctor, Maria. An armed gorilla guy was with her.

“Mr. Marsh would like to run a few tests on you.”

Meg hopped up. “Maria, how can you go along with this? They're just kids. Help us get out of here and come with us.”

“You'll have to stay here, Meg, while the rest of us go down to the lab. And don't try anything; the sedative in the guards' guns is quick acting and potent. It's based on the venom from a cone snail. One of my own discoveries.”

Tristan crossed his arms and planted his feet. Clearly, he wasn't planning to go anywhere. Tristan
was scared, but his anger gave him courage. The other teens followed Tristan's lead and remained firmly planted where they were.

“Now, don't make this difficult. We could just shoot you and carry you down there unconscious,” the doctor told them.

Another burly security guard entered the room to emphasize the point.

“Go ahead,” Meg said to the teens. “It'll be okay.”

The campers reluctantly followed the doctor out the door. Tristan was the last to leave. As he passed Meg, she secretly slipped something into his hand. He slid it into the pocket of his swimsuit as inconspicuously as possible.

21

A HUGH SURPRISE

T
HEY WERE MARCHED THROUGH THE MAIN HOUSE
to an elevator. The guards stayed close by the entire time. One whole side of Marsh's mansion was built of glass and overlooked the ocean. Tristan had to admit it was impressive. On the other hand, the overdose of yellow, scented candles, fake chirping, and gurgling fountains made him feel like a cat with a giant hair ball—ready to gag.

Ryder stared at the sweeping view of the ocean and the mansion's fine furnishings. “You know, I could get used to living in a place like this.”

The others glared at him murderously.

“Hey, I'm just saying, like, the lifestyle's not bad.” Once the group was inside, the elevator descended. After stopping, the doors slid open to a large laboratory.
It was gleaming white and silver, the exception being the yellow lab coats worn by the half-dozen scientists working at long benches with high-powered microscopes, spectrometers, and other sophisticated instruments. Marsh's people glanced up only briefly when the teens were led in.

“This won't hurt a bit,” the doctor told them.

“Speak for yourself,” Rosina snarled.

With sufficient prodding by the armed guards, the doctor was able to weigh, measure, and stand each camper in front of a three-dimensional X-ray scanning system. She also drew samples of their blood. Tristan had always hated going to the doctor for checkups. Being Marsh's lab rat was
way
worse. He had an overwhelming urge to smash all the fancy equipment to the floor.

With his anger and frustration growing by the minute, Tristan watched the guards closely, looking for an opportunity to escape or do something. He prayed they wouldn't discover what was in his pocket. Luckily, it didn't show up on the X-ray. Hugh wasn't so fortunate. His multi-purpose tool was quickly taken away.

“I've seen the video,” the doctor told them. “I know about the webbed feet. So, how does it work?”

Silence. The teens stared purposely at the doctor, tightened their lips, and said nothing.

“We have ways of getting it out of you, you know. It would be much better if you just cooperate. Besides, Marsh is a very generous employer.”

They shook their heads.

“Well, you can't say I didn't try. Joseph, could you
please take them to the pools? I believe Mr. Marsh would like to show them to our guests personally.”

One of the guards nodded and poked Sam in the back with his tranquilizer gun. The teens were then herded toward a set of metal double doors.

Two of the souped-up yellow golf carts were waiting for them in the cavern beneath Marsh's mansion. Tristan thought about trying to escape right then. He could dive into the water next to the black submersible. But he wasn't sure where the water led or that he could get away before being darted. And he didn't really want to go alone. Tristan decided to wait, hoping there would be another and better opportunity to get away. He felt for the small plastic bag in his pocket.

The carts sped through and out of the tunnel. The rain had stopped, but the weather outside was gloomy. Dark gray clouds filled the sky, and a strong breeze was blowing. They drove past a large white yacht alongside the dock. It hadn't been there earlier.

The carts stopped by a hot tub shaped like a scallop shell. Nearby was a swimming pool with a floating blow-up yellow raft and lounge chair. Tristan assumed those really were for relaxing. The guards got out and escorted the teens to a group of round pools a little farther away. These clearly weren't for chilling out in. One pool was empty. In each of the other three, a huge gray shark was circling. Two of the sharks had cameras mounted on their backs. A gate at the end of each pool separated it from a larger rectangular pool.

Tristan's attention was drawn to the far end of the bigger pool. He squinted, trying to better see what
was there. It looked like a square opening of some sort, maybe the entrance to a tunnel. He turned to the connecting shark pools and then looked back at the opening. It had to be a tunnel so the sharks could swim out. Tristan nudged Sam and Hugh, who were standing beside him. He nodded toward the entrance to the tunnel. He then dramatically began gasping, pointing at the sharks, and backing into his friends—as if it was the scariest thing he'd ever seen. Tristan thought for sure he'd overdone the acting job, but the guards laughed at his feigned fright. Meanwhile, he had quietly slipped the plastic bag out of his pocket to show Sam and Hugh. “Meg,” Tristan whispered.

Two more carts pulled up next to the pools. Marsh hopped out of one, but the men in the other vehicle remained seated, hidden from view behind the driver.

While the guards' attention was on their approaching boss, Sam whispered to Tristan and Hugh, “You should take them and go get help.”

Hugh shook his head. “No, Sam,
you
go with Tristan.”

Marsh was now too close for them to say anything more without being overheard.

“So, if you won't tell me how your unusual abilities work, maybe you'll demonstrate them for me and a few of my partners. And you can choose whichever pool you'd like.” The man did his slurred Santa laugh.

“We can't just make it, like, happen,” Ryder said.

The others glared at him, silently telling him to shut up.

“Thank you, young man. Then how does it work?”

“Don't say anything,” Tristan said angrily. “And what did you do to the sharks?”

Marsh stared at Tristan as if deciding what to do next. “I'll tell you, if you tell me.”

Tristan shook his head adamantly.

“I'll tell you anyway, because eventually
you will
tell me exactly what I want to know. A little drug intervention to relax the sharks, make them more pliable. We then enhance their electro-sensing capabilities, and with some electrodes embedded below the cameras—we can pretty much control where the sharks go and what they do.”

“That's horrible,” Sam said. “You're torturing them.”

“They're just stupid sharks,” Marsh responded.

Tristan imagined strangling Marsh and throwing him to the sharks.

“Look, dude, like I was saying,” Ryder interjected. “We can't just will our feet to get webs.”

Marsh turned to Ryder. “So how does it work, then?”

“What's in it for us?”

Sam shook her head. “No way, you can't tell.”

Never in a million years did Tristan expect what happened next.

Hugh stepped forward. “Uh, sir. I'll . . . I'll show you.”

The other teens stared at Hugh like he just said he loved swimming with sharks.

Hugh turned to Sam and Tristan so the others couldn't see him and winked. Tristan couldn't believe it. He seriously hoped Hugh knew what he was doing. Tristan decided to play along with whatever his friend had in mind.

“Don't listen to him,” Hugh said, staring at Ryder. “If the pool is saltwater and I jump in, the webbing will come out.”

“Hugh?” Rosina muttered.

Ryder stared at him, clearly baffled.

Tristan covertly slipped two red pills from the small plastic bag. “You can't tell him!” he shouted, lunging at Hugh. He pretended to stumble and bumped into Sam, secretly passing her a pill.

Hugh shook his head and stepped away from them, as if divorcing himself from their childish behavior.

“So glad one of you has finally come to your senses,” Marsh said. “You will be well rewarded, son. But hold on, my partners will want to see this.” He waved to the men in the cart.

As the men walked toward them, the teens' eyes grew wide. Tristan nearly choked. One man appeared to be your average well-to-do businessman in a suit and tie. The other man was short and thick around the middle, with a goatee, black beady eyes, and a head like a slightly hairy bowling ball—overall, very toad-like.

“Rickerton,” Tristan muttered under his breath, letting his hair fall down to hide his face.

The other teens ducked their heads so he wouldn't see their faces, either.

“So nice to see you
again
,” J.P. Rickerton offered, his voice laced with malice. “I'm so very sorry I didn't get to meet you personally, last summer,
in the Bahamas
. When I heard that my good friend and business associate here, Mr. Marsh, had discovered some teenagers with unusual swimming skills . . . well, you can just imagine how it piqued my interest.”

Hugh was now visibly shaking. “So, do you want to see this or not?”

“Yes, young man, please go ahead,” Marsh said. “Choose your pool.” He laughed again. “I expect you'd like the one that is shark free.”

“Yeah, thanks, that was going to be my choice.” Hugh glanced briefly at Sam and Tristan, and then walked over to the empty pool. He stood staring at it and at the gate that separated it from the bigger pool and the ones with the sharks. Throwing off the towel from around his shoulders, Hugh took a deep breath. He then jumped into the water. Within seconds, he was back at the surface. “Okay, it might take a minute or two for, you know, the webbing to come out.” Hugh stared directly at Tristan and Sam when he added, “I have to concentrate to make it happen.”