Meg: Hell's Aquarium (35 page)

“You told me the Megs frighten you.”

“They do. But this isn’t aquarium work. This is cutting edge science. I can deal with the fear by being prepared. Come with me. I know you want to.” She nuzzles his neck. “Think about it . . . the two of us on a research vessel, netting deep sea creatures by day, bunking together at night—”

“I can’t. I gave my word.”

“So did I. I’m going.”

“I love you.” The words are blurted out, surprising even David.

She stares at him, caught off guard.

“I know, I know. We barely know each other, but I really mean it. And I’m not pussy-whipped! All night long I’ve been feeling like—like somebody’s ripping my heart out. I know it’s against your rule, but I really do love you, Kaylie.”

She lays her head against his chest. “I feel the same way.”

“You do?”

“Shh.”

They hold one another, the moment chasing away the dilemma at hand until exhaustion takes over, and they doze off in each other’s arms.

Kaylie awakens with a start. She checks her watch. “David? David, wake up.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after four. I have to pack. We leave in less than an hour.”

“You’re still going?”

“Yes, and I think you should too.”

“Kaylie—”

“I’ll make you a deal. If we get out to wherever we’re going and we see it really is a suicide mission, then we leave. No argument. But I just can’t blow this off because your father decided it’s crazy—not without checking things out for myself. You understand?”

“Yes.”

She stands. “What you said earlier . . . I want you to know, it means the world to me.” She kisses him softly on the lips then heads for the door. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

David remains on the sofa, feeling helpless as he watches her go.

PART 2

‘TIS BETTER TO BUY A SMALL BOUQUET AND GIVE TO YOUR FRIEND THIS VERY DAY, THAN A BUSHEL OF ROSES WHITE AND RED TO LAY ON HIS COFFIN AFTER HE’S DEAD.

—
an Irish toast

22.

Tanaka Oceanographic Institute
Monterey, California

Two weeks later . . .

A cool westerly breeze blows in from the Pacific, the sun high in a cloudless blue sky.

James “Mac” Mackreides watches from the main deck as the capacity crowd files into the arena. Two CBS film crews are posted at either end of the lagoon, shooting B-role for the
60 Minutes
segment that will air later this month. Seagulls circle overhead, the scavengers alerted by a potpourri of aromas wafting from concession stands, back after a forty-one-day reprieve.

A few of the birds stand sentry atop the new plexiglass wave wall, a barrier which shields the first twenty-two rows in the south end’s lower bowl.

Mac touches the radio strapped to his left shoulder. “Deck to Princess—”

A moment’s static, then Danielle Taylor’s voice comes through. “Don’t call me that.”

“You’ve been in make-up for three days.”

“Shut up.”

“Capacity crowd, lots of film crews. Try not to fall on your head this time. It’s bad for business.”

“Isn’t there an early bird special somewhere that we could drop you off?”

Mac smiles. “Have a good show, kiddo.” He clicks over to another setting. “Deck to Base. J.T., you coming up?”

From the lab three stories below, Jonas speaks into his radio. “Be there in five. How’s the crowd?”

“Dry, so far.”

“Let’s keep ‘em that way.” Jonas turns his attention to Dr. Nichols, who is seated before two computer screens and a bank of closed circuit video monitors revealing various views of the lagoon.

Over the last several weeks, Jonas and his team had been testing the neurotransmitter they had surgically implanted in Angel’s brain, cataloguing different combinations of impulses with the Megalodon’s responses. By stimulating the right distal area of the Meg’s olfactory center, Dr. Nichols was able to create an alluring phantom odor powerful enough to coax the big female from the canal into the lagoon, thirty percent of the time. When the odor was combined with half a steer carcass tossed into the southern end of the tank, positive responses increased to fifty-five percent.

When the two were combined with Bobby Baitman, Angel responded every time.

Bobby Baitman was the brainchild of Misty Walker, one of Dr. Stelzer’s environmental techs. Having just rebounded from a bad divorce, Misty had been involved in an ongoing debate with several of her female colleagues on what qualities they looked for in the perfect man. Two weeks later, Misty showed up at work with her new boyfriend, a well-endowed, lifelike sex doll that she had rigged with robotic appendages.

Inspired by the gag, Jonas approached Misty about making specific modifications to the doll to simulate the erratic movements of a swimmer. The final product was an anthropomorphic robot with limbs that could kick and paddle, and a “beating heart” that generated electrical impulses when submerged in water.

The sellout crowd of fifteen thousand rises to its feet, applauding Danielle Taylor as she makes her way to the podium at the southern end of the tank. Acknowledging the crowd, Dani takes the wireless microphone. “Ladies and gentleman, welcome back to the all-new Tanaka Institute and the most frightening show on Earth.”

As she speaks, Teddy Badaut and his crew of three—among them a petite woman with dark blonde hair—wheel in a skinned steer carcass placed on a spring-loaded steel catapult. The small platform is maneuvered into its preset location on the south deck, the device aimed at the center of the lagoon.

“Today, one lucky audience member will be given a chance to win a million dollars!” Dani approaches one of the patrons seated in the first row. “Sir, what’s the craziest thing you’d be willing to do to win a million dollars?”

“Me? I don’t know . . . feed Angel?”

“Feed Angel? Do you think that’s worth a million dollars?”

The audience boos.

“Ma’am, how about you? A million dollars. What would you do?”

“Oh, gosh. I’d strip naked and run around the lagoon in my birthday suit.”

Her husband covers his head as the crowd boos.

“I don’t think they liked that. You sir, how about you? What would you be willing to do for a million in cash?”

Seated in the fourth row, twenty-eight-year-old Nathan Lee Tolbert stands to address the crowd, a beer in hand. “For a million bucks, I’d swim across the lagoon! How’s that?”

The audience goes crazy.

“Wow. What’s your name?”

“Bobby Baitman. From Bayonne, New Jersey.”

“Let me get this straight, Bobby. For a million in cash, you’d actually swim across the lagoon—”

“—the width, only the width.”

“Are you a good swimmer?”

“Pretty damn good. But I’m a little drunk.” He flops an arm around Dani’s shoulder.

She fends him off. “And you’d be willing to swim the width of the lagoon, right now, for a million dollars?”

“Right now?” He turns to the cheering crowd egging him on. “Sure! Let’s do it!”

“Well, Bobby, come on down!” The crowd goes wild as Nathan Torbert follows Dani to the A-frame. “Teddy, can one of your men get Bobby a wetsuit. Make it an extra large.”

One of Teddy’s men enters a supply closet, returning moments later with a wetsuit, and hands it to Dani—

—who hands it to Nathan. “Bobby, go get changed. You can use that port-o-potty.” She points to the enclosed bathroom near the southern bleachers. A security guard keys the unit open.

Nathan waves to the crowd then ducks inside.

“Hold it! Hold it right there!” Jonas appears on deck, yelling through a wireless mike pinned to his shirt, the battery pack stowed in his back pocket.

“Dad, please. I’m in the middle of a show.”

“Young lady, maybe your concussion caused brain damage. You cannot allow one of our audience members to risk his life. Even for a million dollars!”

“Why not?”

“Why not? For one thing, if something terrible were to happen—a slipped disk, for instance, or an accidental drowning, or something even worse—the trauma of witnessing such an event might cause members of our audience to sue the Institute.”

“Dad, they wouldn’t do that. Would you?”

A chorus of
nos
fills the stadium.

“See? Hey, Bobby, how you doing in there?”

“I’m ready. Just a little nervous.”

Jonas opens the port-o-potty, and—

—Nathan passes him Bobby Baitman, the robotic dummy dressed in a full wetsuit and hood, along with a flotation jacket, rigged with clear piano wire to the pulley atop the A-frame.

Misty activates a remote control device, signaling the robot’s legs to walk. Jonas and Dani guide the mobile dummy to the edge of the southern sea wall, while inside the port-o-potty, Nathan continues speaking through his wireless microphone, carrying on his part of the conversation between the dummy and Dani. “I’m a little nervous. Where’s Angel?”

Cheers rise from the crowd.

“Angel’s in the canal. Bobby, if you’re going to do this, you’d better do it now.”

“Any last minute advice?”

“Swim really fast, and try not to splash.”

“Just have the cash ready.”

They walk Bobby past the newly installed guardrails to the edge of the sea wall. “Okay, then, on the count of three. One . . . two . . .”

The crowd yells three, but the dummy remains seated on the sea wall, its robotic arms seemingly clutching Jonas.

“Bobby, what happened?”

“Just nervous. Can we try it again?”

“Okay, one more time. One . . . two . . .”

On “three” Jonas releases the robot, which appears to dive into the water. The flotation device keeps it prone and buoyant along the surface. The crowd screams and cheers as Misty Walker signals the life-like mannequin’s limbs to kick and paddle, while the invisible cable wires, fastened atop the A-frame, discreetly pull the dummy across the width of the lagoon as if it were really swimming.

The crowd goes crazy.

Mac speaks into his radio. “Deck to Base. Bobby’s in the water. Cue Angel.”

Dr. Nichols activates the neuro-implant, stimulating the olfactory bulb in Angel’s brain.