Mega #02 Baja Blood (11 page)

Mike laughed and rubbed his face.

“I know, I know, what fucking shark could take down a sub this size, right?” he sighed. “A great white could hurt a whale like this, but this isn’t a whale, it’s a sub. I must just be crazy.” He smacked his forehead. “And when I ran, Espanoza must have given the order to kill John’s family and to go after my old boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?” Gunnar asked. “Are others in danger?”

“Probably,” Mike said.

“On it,” Darren said. He activated his com. “Ballantine? We have a problem. Mike Pearlman says there may be others that are in danger.”

“Not to worry, Darren,” Ballantine replied over the com. “The company has them under watch as well as Mr. Stern’s mother. I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Good. Thanks,” Darren said. “Oh, and have Popeye get one of the specimen bays ready. We’ll need it.”

“Already done,” Ballantine said.

“Seriously? Okay,” Darren said. “Chambers out.” He looked at the cockpit hatch then Mike. “How many people can fit in there?”

“Just one in the cockpit,” Mike said. “And only if you’re like me. It’s not designed for people with their whole legs. Something about hydraulics configuration. They needed the space by the cockpit in order for the body to swim right and actually look like a whale. One of you guys would barely be able to move in this thing.”

“Fine,” Darren nodded. “Then you get in there and pilot that thing to my ship. Does it have to submerge to move?”

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “Otherwise the tail just splashes everywhere.”

“Hmmm. Then this is going to be tricky,” Darren said, activating his com again. “Hey, Marty?”

“What’s up?”

“Gonna need divers to help get a whale into the specimen bay,” Darren said. “But it’s not really a whale, it’s a sub.”

“Why do I even ask what’s up?” Lake sighed. “I’ll have Popeye get the best divers from the crew down there. How much time do we have?”

“Like none,” Darren said. “We’re on our way back now.”

***

It took six divers to help maneuver the sub into Specimen Bay #1, a fifty meter space close to the keel of the ship. On the other side of the keel was Specimen Bay #2. Darren had learned his lesson about where to put big, giant sea creatures after losing a shark and a whale in Somalia.

Once the sub was all the way in, the bay sealed up and the water was pumped back into the ocean. Mike popped the cockpit hatch and pulled himself out as the six divers took off their gear.

“Holy shite and shaboodle,” Popeye said, looking down from a catwalk that ran the length of the bay. “That ain’t something you see every day.”

Boatswain Trevor “Popeye” De Bruhl looked just like the cartoon character he was nicknamed after. Short, thin, bald, with massive forearms that were covered in tattoos. All he needed was the corncob pipe. And a right leg. That he lost to a hunk of metal in the Indian Ocean. In its place was a segmented titanium rod that ended in a splayed piece of heavy-duty rubber. It was his new school, old school peg leg and he was quite proud of it.

The hatch at the end of the catwalk opened and Ballantine walked in with Darren.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ballantine said as he looked at the sub. “You must be Michael Pearlman.”

“Call me Mike,” Mike replied. “And could I get some help? Left my wheels back in Baja.”

“I’ll bet,” Ballantine replied. “And you lost your legs in the Hindu Kush region of Afghanistan.”

“How’d you know that?” Darren asked. “Did you already do your homework on him?”

“I always do my homework,” Ballantine replied. “Especially when dealing with a headache like today. And seeing this submarine means my headache just got considerably larger.”

Ballantine studied the sub for a long time from the catwalk as Mike was helped down and offered a wheelchair that Popeye was able to find in the infirmary.

“Was Dr. Lisa Morganton there with you, Mike?” Ballantine asked.

“Morganton? Yeah, she was,” Mike replied as he was pushed to a hatch in the wall by the bay floor. “She invented these things.”

Ballantine snorted and chuckled lightly. “Is that what she said? She invented the subs? Conniving cunt.”

“Whoa,” Popeye said, looking at Ballantine. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that, boss guy. You must really hate that broad.”

“I only hate three people in this world, Popeye,” Ballantine replied. “Dr. Morganton is not one of them. However, with the amount of hell she has put me through over the years, I would say the name ‘cunt’ is being kind.”

“Oh,” Popeye said. “Wouldn’t want to be her when you two finally get face to face.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Ballantine said. “Please make sure Mr. Pearlman gets nowhere near the briefing room until I speak to him, will you, Popeye? I would appreciate that.”

“Thorne wants him there right away,” Darren said. “Since he has intel on the sharks.”

“Commander Thorne is going to be disappointed,” Ballantine said. “The man doesn’t get near the briefing room until after I speak to him.”

With that, Ballantine stormed out of the bay, the hatch slamming behind him.

“Damn,” Popeye said. “Company man is ticked off.”

“No shit, Pop.”

***

Mike stared at Ballantine. Ballantine stared at Mike. The two men, one in a wheelchair, the other seated behind an ornate wooden desk, refused to yield and speak first. Darby was the one to break the silence.

“They are expecting us,” Darby said. “You are wasting time.”

Ballantine sighed. “What do you know about Dr. Morganton and the program she was working on?”

“Not much,” Mike said.

“Then tell me the much you do know,” Ballantine ordered.

“Just that she developed the subs so they mimicked blue whales and could get past anywhere without detection,” Mike said. “Or at least, if they were detected, they looked like whales.”

“She succeeded in that,” Ballantine nodded.

“Yeah, no shit,” Mike said. “They look so real they were attacked by sharks.”

“It appears that way,” Ballantine said. “Now, tell me about the cocaine. I’ve read your file. You aren’t the type of guy that would get in bed with the cartels. This is out of character for you.”

“Didn’t have much choice,” Mike said. “If we didn’t, then they would kill our family and friends. We had to do what they asked or else.”

“And who did the asking?”

“Um, some guy named Espanoza,” Mike said. “He was scary as hell.”

“Ricardo Espanoza?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Mike said. “He kinda looked familiar, but I don’t know why.”

“I do,” Ballantine said. He looked over at Darby and sighed. “It’s time. Go get prepped.”

Darby nodded and left the office quickly. Mike watched her go then turned back to Ballantine.

“Who is Espanoza?” Mike asked.

“A complication,” Ballantine replied. “And someone you will not mention to anyone. Not to my Team, not to the crew, and not to Gunnar Peterson. Do you understand me?”

“Why do I have the feeling I’m back in an ‘or else’ situation?” Mike sighed.

“Because you are,” Ballantine said. He stood up, walked around the desk to Mike, and took hold of the man’s wheelchair. “Now, I am going to take you up to the briefing room where you will answer questions with generic answers only.”

“Or you kill me,” Mike said. “I get it.”

Ballantine pushed Mike towards the office hatch. “No, Mr. Pearlman, I’m not that person. I just need your cooperation so others don’t die. This is so much bigger than you. Can you help me with that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Mike said as they left the office. “I just want to be done with all this shit.”

“Soon you will be,” Ballantine said. “And if I can hold things together, then maybe we all will be.”

***

“This ship is huge. Has to be at least 130 meters,” Mike said, sounding as casual as possible as Ballantine wheeled him into the briefing room. “What’s it name again?”

“Beowulf III,” Ballantine said as he parked Mike next to the conference table and then took his own seat. “And it’s 125 meters.”

“What happened to the Beowulf II?” Mike asked.

“We don’t talk about that,” Max and Shane said at the same time then high fived.

“Guys, shut up,” Darren said then looked around. “Where’s Darby?”

“She is handling some company business,” Ballantine said. “Don’t worry about her.”

Darren and Thorne shared a look, not happy about one of the members of Team Grendel absent from the briefing.

“Ugh! This is going to break my brain!” Gunnar shouted. “I’m seeing something here, but I don’t know what. There’s a pattern of behavior with these attacks, but no matter how I analyze it, it’s completely random.”

“I’ve had the company run them through every possible scenario,” Ballantine said. “The report came back as chaos. No true pattern, just frenzied attack after frenzied attack.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Gunnar said. “Sharks hunt, they don’t go berserk. They are cold and calculating.”

“If they are our monster sharks then they are different,” Thorne said. “Something triggered them to act this way.”

“What can you tell us about the subs?” Gunnar asked, looking at Mike. “Is there anything that the sharks could have come in contact with that would make them freak out?”

“I don’t know anything about sharks,” Mike replied.

“Yes, but you know about the subs,” Gunnar pressed. “What are they made out of? What is that skin? It looks so real. Could it be such a good analog that that is what attracted the sharks? Maybe there’s a compound in there that is pushing the sharks’ aggression centers of their brains.”

“Gunnar, I don’t know,” Mike said.

“There was,” Kinsey laughed.

“How do you mean?” Gunnar asked.

“The two subs that were lost, were they running coke too?” Kinsey asked Mike.

Mike looked at Ballantine briefly before answering. “Uh, yeah, they were. I don’t know if it was the same amount, but it was at least as much as was in mine.”

Gunnar looked at Kinsey then over at Darren then turned and looked back at Mike.

“How’d you get mixed up in all of this, Mike?” Gunnar asked.

Another glance at Ballantine. “Long story,” Mike replied. “We were just pilots. We thought we were testing some secret project. Not running coke. Honestly, I had no idea this would all happen.”

“Shit,” Gunnar said then let out a sad laugh. He glanced at Kinsey. “You don’t actually think…?”

“I don’t know,” Kinsey said as she stepped closer to the monitors.

She studied the gory images for a couple minutes. Every time someone tried to talk, she snapped her fingers and growled. The briefing room remained quiet for a while.

“No fucking way,” Kinsey finally said, laughing and looking at Gunnar. “I’m right.”

“Right?” Ballantine asked. “Fill us in, please.”

“The behavior has no pattern because there isn’t one,” Gunnar said. “It is chaos at its most basic. Except for the obvious pattern of behavior.”

“Dude,” Shane said. “Contradict yourself much?”

“How can there be a pattern and not be a pattern?” Max asked.

“Because they’re fucking high,” Kinsey said, stepping away from the monitors. “I’d know that behavior anywhere. Used to be an apartment of tweakers below me that would just run out into the street and terrorize cars. The fuckers just went nuts. Classic methamphetamine psychosis.”

“This is cocaine, though,” Max replied.

“Oh, right, my bad,” Kinsey laughed. “Then I’m totally wrong. You know, since everyone here is an expert on coked out mega sharks, right?”

“Good point,” Max frowned.

“There is nothing good about this, people,” Gunnar said. “If the sharks attacked the subs, and ruptured the hulls, which we know they have the power to do, then they probably broke open that coke. It mixed with the water and they breathed it through their gills.”

“What the fuck does cocaine do to sharks?” Shane asked.

“That, apparently,” Max said, pointing to the monitors. “They go loco.”

“Say hello to my little fin,” Shane replied in his best Al Pacino as Tony Montoya voice.

“Gold, bro. Solid gold,” Max said. “That was like spot on.” The brothers high fived again.

“Boys?” Thorne asked.

“Yeah, Uncle Vinny?” Max responded.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Right. Sorry,” Shane said.

Ballantine turned his attention to Mike. “And you don’t know where the cocaine came from?”

“No, no,” Mike replied. “Not a clue. All of a sudden we were told we had to move it north or bad things would happen.”

Ballantine took a deep breath. “This twist complicates things. Lord knows what those beasts are capable of while stimulated.”

“Darren?” Lake asked over the com. “You and Ballantine busy?”