Breakthrough

Series

Book Set

Copyright © 2013 Michael Grumley

All rights reserved.

i.i

Table of Contents

BREAKTHROUGH

LEAP

CATALYST

DEDICATION

To Autumn and Andrea, two of the most wonderful women to bless this Earth.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Special thanks to Kelly Foster, my number one fan.  Without her, this book would never have been written.  Thanks also to Andrea, Mom, Steve, Richele, Jennifer, Dan and Don, for their proofreading and expert feedback.

Breakthrough

Book 1

1

Something out there sounded strange.  He pressed the headphones in tighter against his ears.

Sonar operators were a special breed.  Few people could sit in front of a computer screen, fighting monotony day after day, listening to the faintest of sounds through lonely ocean waters. But for the few who could, it was surprising how attuned a human sense could become.  Eugene Walker would rather be a Ping Jockey than do any other job in the Navy.  Here, he could hear everything.  Even on a boring night like this, he knew exactly what surrounded them as they slid silently through the dark waters.

What he was listening to tonight was odd though.  He had heard it for some time but couldn’t pin it down.  He shifted in his seat and studied the computer screen in front of him, listening to the strange sound picked up by his computer.  He played it again and again, and still could not place it.  Some jockeys were rumored to be so good that they could identify the current moving through the coral, but those guys had spent their entire lives on their boats.  He couldn’t hear currents, though he had identified some natural occurrences that the computers could not.  But this one was strange; a steady hum at a very low frequency and just barely within the range of human hearing.

Not more than ten feet behind Walker stood Commander Sykes, reading through yet another fascinating maintenance report.  Sykes was a stickler for detail, as most were, but even the best commanders eventually fell prey to the unrelenting boredom of perfect routine.  He picked up his warm coffee and sipped, letting his mind wander to his wife and girls at home, wondering if they were in bed yet.  He glanced at his watch absently and turned the page, now just scanning for anything that stuck out.

By pure instinct, from the corner of his eye, he noticed his Navigation Officer repeatedly looking at the instruments and then back to the table and his digital map.

“Something wrong, Willie?”

Willie Mendez didn’t reply for a long moment.  Reporting a problem to the XO wasn’t something you did without triple checking.  “Mmm…”

Sykes turned slowly, still reluctant to take his eye off the report which was now blurring into a jumble of words.

The officer looked closer at the large illuminated, three square foot map between them.  “I’m getting something strange here, sir.”

Sykes looked at the table and back up to another monitor, seeing the problem immediately.  He took the clear rule and recalculated himself.  He frowned and looked back at the young navigator.

“How many times have you checked this?”

“Four times.”

Sykes scratched his chin while Mendez spoke.  “Plotting from our last verifiable had us here, two minutes ago.” He zoomed in on the screen, enlarging the area.  A small circle appeared next to his index finger, joined by small GPS coordinates hovering beside it.  He then moved his finger further up the chart in the same direction.  “Now it’s reporting us here.”

“In two minutes?”  Sykes’ response was rhetorical.  He shook his head and sighed.  380 knots was a bit optimistic for a nuclear class submarine.  Was it a glitch?  This wasn’t the first computer malfunction they’d had, far from it.  He knew that software written by some geek hyped up on Jolt was far more fallible than traditional mechanical or electrical systems.  Hell, even the cooks knew that by now.  “Anything else acting buggy?”

“No, sir.”

“Run integrity checks on both systems.”

“Already started, sir.”  All eyes turned to the monitor now displaying the results.  “Systems report no consistency errors.”

Great, broken software that doesn’t even know it’s broken.  Sykes looked closely at the orange GPS display.  “Try re-synching the satellites.”

Willie complied and waited.  He began to slowly shake his head.  “Birds look good. I’ve got five…now six.  Pinpointed to one meter and reporting the same coordinates.”

The Commander didn’t respond.  He remained focused on the GPS screen, thinking.

Eugene stuck his head out of the tiny radio area and dropped his headset around his neck.  “Sir, I’ve been picking up something for the last few minutes on sonar.  It might be related.”

Sykes’ eyes trained on Eugene.  “What is it?”

“Not a vessel, sir.  Nothin’ I’ve ever heard before.”

Sykes put the second headset on and listened as Eugene played it for him.  “What the hell is that?”

Frowning, Eugene switched back to the live feed and closed his eyes.  “…it’s gone now.”

“Any ideas?”

Eugene sighed.  “I’m not sure.  At first I thought it may have been thermal vents, but that wasn’t it.”  He watched Sykes look back at Willie and return to the table.  After a long silence and with forced control, he put his mug down.  Stepping from the room over the lip of the hatch, he continued down the long gray, metal corridor.  “Of all the damn timing.”

***

Captain Ashman replied to the knock on his door with a simple “Enter”.  Sykes stepped in, his head barely an inch from the piping overhead.

“What it is?” he hardly needed to look up from his own reading to know who it was.

“Sir, we seem to be encountering some problems with our navigation system. It’s put our position off by about fifteen miles.”

Ashman looked up.  “Fifteen miles?”

“Yes, sir”.

“Did you run diagnostics?”

Sykes nodded.  “Yes sir, by the book but cannot find any problems.”

Ashman tapped his finger gently against pursed lips.  “Could our speed be off?”

“No, sir.  The propulsion systems are in perfect sync.  It’s just our position that’s incorrect.  I suspect it’s a misread somewhere in GPS, but we can’t verify unless...”

“If we surface, the mission is aborted.”  Ashman’s tone was sharp.  “Did someone upgrade our systems before we left?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir.”

“If I find out that someone was stupid enough to upgrade anything before a four-month mission, I’ll personally escort them to the brig!”

“Yes, sir!”

He took a deep breath.  It didn’t matter whether someone upgraded the system or not, it was still broken and probably could not be fixed from here.  Even if it could, it would leave enough doubt to abort the mission anyway.  No one would risk continuing on and having a problem crop up at deeper depths.  Down there you can’t just pop up to the surface.

“Talk with the engineers and make sure no one made any changes.”  Sykes nodded.  He’d expected this order before he knocked on the Captain’s door.  Ashman retracted his legs and stood up.  “Take us up.  Tell them we’re coming back.”

By the time Sykes made it back to the bridge, he was developing a bad feeling.

2

The Cayman Islands were first discovered by Christopher Columbus in 1503.  Named Las Tortugas after the many sea turtles, the islands were governed as a single colony for centuries, until they became an official British territory in the late 1960’s.  Like many Caribbean islands, the majority of business in the Caymans was tourism, flocked to regularly by thousands of sunburned, overweight Americans with too much money and a penchant for cat naps.  Arriving in Georgetown and setting out for adventure in their sparkling rental cars and air conditioning, most visitors would be hard pressed to spot remains of the devastation inflicted by the hurricane just a few years earlier.  Progress could be simply astounding when it came to the anticipation of more money.

While undetectable from the island, Georgetown was in fact still visible, albeit barely, from the 38 foot catamaran across the stretch of ocean.  Anchored much closer to Little Cayman, the boat sat listless in the gentle ocean swell, swaying side to side just enough to allow the lazy halyard an occasional slap against the aluminum mast.  The warm winter breeze flowed gently through the lines and over the sails, which were rolled up tight.  If close enough, an observer might mistake it for abandoned with no one in sight.  Though at this distance the only neighbors were seagulls, two of which sat comfortably on the port hull.

A disturbance in the crystal blue water slowly appeared nearby and a ring of bubbles surfaced as a gentle turbulence.  A moment later, a dark head emerged and looked around.  Spotting the aft of the boat, a mask was quickly lifted over the short hair and the man swam forward.  Upon reaching the small ladder, he gently tossed the mask and snorkel aboard and with surprising ease, pulled his upper body quickly out of the water, allowing his legs to find the rungs.  He reached back and unbuckled each fin, tossing them up and grabbing his towel in the same motion.

He retrieved a bottle of orange juice from the small refrigerator and went forward to relax on the trampoline.  Peering at the larger island, he could make out the faint image of a jet ski skirting across the water.  It amazed him how many people loved noise.  Insistent that they need a break from the grind, they travel to a remote area to unwind, only to shop with a thousand other tourists, or zip across the bay on a rocket running at 80 decibels.  He smiled to himself and tipped his orange juice in their direction.

To each his own, he thought.  He should, in fact, be thankful.  If they were not over there, they would probably be here next to him.  With that, he stood up and squinted at the glimmering horizon.  Having to decide what to do every day was just the type of problem he wanted.

His body suddenly stiffened.  The sound was extremely faint but unmistakable and he felt a flutter of grim acceptance before reaching for the binoculars.  He wiped the water from his face and peered through the lenses.  He stood, watching stoically as the tiny black dot in the distance slowly grew into the recognizable shape of a helicopter.

3

It had always surprised Chris Ramirez how busy Fridays were.  He would have guessed a Saturday or Sunday, but the last day of the school week was always the busiest.  This was thanks to all the nearby schools and their field trips, which meant playing host for four exhausting hours.  An obligation Chris had finally been freed from just three weeks earlier with the hiring of a new tour guide.  Of course, now he had to admit that giving the tours to the kids was not all bad.  It was the fact that their retention levels dropped to zero once they were through the front door that bothered him.  From there, they could see the aquarium’s star attractions, dolphins Dirk and Sally.  Not that he would have been any different at their age.

He strolled through the empty lobby sipping his coffee.  As he approached, he smiled at Betty behind the information desk and his replacement, Al, who was looking over his schedule and straightening his tie.  What a beautiful day these new Fridays were, now that it allowed him to return to his real work.

Chris glanced at his watch; thirty minutes until the doors opened.  He headed downstairs to the bottom level of the main aquarium.  There, he stood before the giant wall of glass, holding back more than a million gallons of water.  On the other side, the gentle rays of sun were already illuminating the water with a soft shade of blue from the tank’s open top.  He watched both shadows dart back and forth effortlessly through the rays of sunlight.  The dolphins were swimming about with a grace of which only they were capable.  He looked higher at the third shape.  It waved to him, at which point he smiled and waved back with a gentle swipe of his coffee cup.  The figure turned and swam back toward Dirk and Sally.  With that, Chris walked down the hall to the aquarium’s private rooms and dropped his backpack onto the desk.

Swimming with dolphins was beyond what most could imagine, and she should know, she did it as often as possible.  She rarely missed a Friday, as it was the one day that the aquarium opened late, leaving a forty-five minute window between feeding time and opening time.  Over the last five years, Dirk and Sally had especially come to enjoy their swims together, it was more than obvious.  They constantly swirled around her, letting her run her hands over their slick bodies, and in turn, would playfully bump her as they passed beneath.  She looked at her watch, gave them one last pat, and headed for the ladder.

Alison Shaw surfaced and held onto the ladder while she cleared her mask.  She noticed a distorted shape quickly approach and looked up, removing her foggy goggles to see Chris smiling down at her.

“Weren’t you just downstairs?” she asked, brushing hair out of her eyes.

He did not answer.

Alison looked up again with a squint.  “Something wrong?”  He continued to beam.  “Why are you smiling?”

He bent down.  “I think you’re going to want to see this.”

Her eyes shot open.  “IMIS?”

Chris grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the water with one hand, and handing her a towel with the other.  She stepped out, quickly dried off and pulled a long sleeve shirt and shorts out of her bag.  She and Chris had been friends for years, but he still snuck a glance now and then at her trim figure.  A few inches shorter than average, she was still far from the norm when it came to female marine biologists.  Hurrying to get her sandals on, they ran across the viewing area and into the building.

They burst into the research area to find Lee Kenwood in his usual spot, at a large desk crammed with monitors and keyboards with cables snaking all over the floor, something Alison always imagined the bowels of a phone company to look like.  Behind Lee and against the wall were several tall metal racks holding dozens of computer servers each.  In the middle section of one of the center racks stood a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, used for manually controlling any of the one-inch thick machines, even though it was something Lee rarely had to do anymore.  With the myriad of systems on his own desk, he could now just as easily connect to the servers remotely.

The wall opposite the servers was part of the dolphin’s tank, constructed in clear glass to allow optimal visibility for study.  Before the thick glass stood six mechanical apparatuses of varying height and complexity, with a digital video camera perched on top of each.  Around the room were several dozen books and journals on topics ranging from marine biology, to language analysis, to writing code in various computer languages.

Alison made it to Lee’s desk before her wet bag even hit the carpeted floor.  “What is it?”

He looked through his rectangular glasses at Chris.  “Didn’t you tell her?”

She pushed her way in front of the screen.  “Tell me what?  What is it?!”

He gently pushed himself away from his desk, rolling out of the way and allowing her a closer view.  “Looks like it’s done.”

“Are you sure?!” she asked looking back at the tank.  She could see Dirk and Sally on the far side anticipating the first wave of children.

Kenwood grinned “Pretty sure.”  He rolled closer again and clicked the mouse, bringing columns of various numbers and results onto the screen.  “See…Frequencies…Octave Ranges…Inflection Points-”

“What about Inter-click Interval and Repetition Rates?”  She scanned the large monitor excitedly.

“Right here.  And we have multiple video positions for each of them.”

Behind them, Frank Dubois burst into the room.  “Just got your message.  What’s up?”  By the time the last word rolled off his tongue, he realized he did not need an answer.  He knew simply from the look on their faces.  “Tell me it’s done.”

“Oh, it be done, Captain.”  Lee grinned.   He pointed to the screen as Dubois leaned in behind Chris and Alison.  “All the variables have been identified.  Look, if you add them up you get almost the exact same number listed with the video positions, divided by three.”  He clicked another button and brought up the system log.  “And look at this; it says the last variable was found almost two months ago, so there hasn’t been anything new in terms of behavior or sounds.”  He leaned back with a cocky nod.  “This envelope has been licked and stamped!”

Alison smiled.  Lee always had a creative way with words.  “I trust you’ve already made the call to IBM?”

Lee nodded.  “I did.  They’re coming down to verify.”

Now Chris turned and looked at the dolphins.  “Who’s coming?”

Lee smiled.  “Uh…everyone.”

“Fantastic.”  Dubois turned and headed for the door.  “I’ve got to make a call.  You busy today Ali?”

She laughed.  “Are you kidding?”

“Well, when you come down off of cloud nine, maybe you can spare a few minutes…we’ll need someone to write us up a press release.”  With that, he let the door close behind him.

4

The silver doors opened and John Clay stepped out of the oversized elevator. With a sharp right, he made his way down the long white hallway of the Pentagon’s D ring.  From the far end of the hall, Admiral Langford spotted Clay and broke off his conversation with another officer.  He walked to meet him and handed Clay a thick folder.

“Sorry, Clay.”  The admiral was shorter by a couple inches but moved erect and with a sharpness that always made Clay feel he was looking up.  They met several years prior when Admiral Langford took over the department.  He’d been under Langford ever since.

Clay fell into step with Langford as he opened the folder and scanned the first page.  “A computer glitch, sir?”

“Apparently there’s more to it,” Langford responded calmly.  “It was originally filed as a glitch but we can’t replicate it.”  He nodded to a woman walking past them.  “Navigation system was working perfectly since the sub left port and then, all of the sudden, they’re fifteen miles off course.”

Clay tried to keep up while flipping through several pages of what most would consider random computer code.  “Any changes in direction?”

“No change in direction.  Same course but fifteen miles further out.”  Langford could see the problem taking hold in Clay’s head.  Clay was one of the best analysts he’d ever had, with a mind like a steel trap.  Langford never had to repeat anything to him.

“Sounds like that would rule out drift or cross currents.  Might be something with the engines if it were one of the older subs, but the new class measures speed by GPS too.  How about a satellite problem?”

They turned and continued down another hallway adorned with pictures of past military officers.  “That’s what I thought, but so far we haven’t had anything else reported.”

Clay spoke without realizing it.  “Those sats are all semi synchronous.  A GPS receiver is never locked onto the same six signals.  Which means by now-”.

“They’re all part of other sets.”  Langford pulled out a security card and swiped it through the reader next to a metal door that read DNI in large blue letters.  “We identified all the sets that the Alabama was using for that entire week and ran checks on them individually.  Nothing.”  Langford swung the large door open.  “How was the trip?”

“Short, sir.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

The Department of Naval Investigations was a large department and took a large part of the Pentagon’s second floor, rings A through E, on the west side.  Consisting of several hundred staff, most specializing in legal and personnel issues, the department was growing as a result of the softening of military policies.  Personnel issues such as harassment had skyrocketed over the last several years as the military struggled to adapt to twenty-first century expectations.  Next to legal and HR, the Navy’s technology group was small by comparison.  Clay’s team was smaller still.  Electronics and Signaling was a specialty that very few understood, let alone were interested in.  Even the brass, who were often technology’s strongest advocates, did not really want to know how.  They just wanted it to work.  Clay’s E&S team often had to find out why a technology was not working, where the failure occurred and why.  It required expert level knowledge in a wide variety of technologies including computer chip design, networking, signaling and a thorough understanding of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Clay turned a corner and passed a number of offices.  His aide, Jennifer, was clearly expecting him when he opened the door and walked through.

“Hi John.” She said, hanging up the phone.  “How were the Caymans?”

“You would have hated it,” he smiled and moved past her into his office. “No reality TV.”

She grinned and followed him with a folder of her own.  “I’ll be sure to cross it off my list.”  Jennifer laid the folder out and set aside his stack of messages, which Clay eyed with dismay.

“All of these in just three days?”

“You’re a popular guy.”  She flipped through the folder for his benefit.  She pulled out a number of documents from the back.  “And these need your signature.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Oh stop.  You’re going to give her a big head.”  They both looked up to see Steve Caesare in the doorway, smiling.  At six foot, with matching dark hair and mustache, he was one hundred percent Italian but without the ties to the mob, or so he said.  Caesare and Clay had been friends since the beginning, meeting in the earliest days of their now twenty-two years of service, and working through most of those years and several departments together.

Jennifer smiled and left the room, flicking him on the arm as she passed.

Steve entered and sat down in a chair across from John’s desk.  “Our leaves are getting shorter and shorter.  Pretty soon they’ll be shorter than our lunches.”

Clay dropped Langford’s folder onto his desk and fell into his chair, turning it toward Caesare.  “You’re lucky you didn’t come.  The shorter it is, the more depressing the return.”  He took a deep breath.  “Tell me why we do this again, for love of country or something?”

“It’s the chicks.”

“Langford talk to you already about the Alabama?”

“Yeah, I gave him that same folder this morning.”  Caesare stretched out his legs and leaned back.  “It’s strange.  I haven’t seen anything like it.  Probably not earth-shattering, but they want to put back out quickly before the crew gets lethargic.  We’ve been working with their technicians, going through everything with a fine tooth comb.”

“Find anything?”

“Not yet.  We’re about to start tracing out cables.”

Clay sighed and leaned forward, opening the Alabama’s folder.  “Were there any other vessels nearby using the same satellites?”

Caesare shook his head.  “No, the closest ship was only using four of the same birds, not enough for a true comparison-”.  He was interrupted by his cell phone.  He looked at the number before answering.  “Hey, any news?  Okay, be right there.”  He ended the call and stood up.  “Borger may have something.”

***

Will Borger was a true throwback from the hippy generation, though technically a few years too young to actually qualify.  He wore his hair long in a ponytail, likely trying to make up for the top of his head which was losing ground.  He routinely wore round glasses and loose fitting Hawaiian shirts.  He was the epitome of the old computer geek and Clay and Caesare liked him immensely.

The two walked into the lab, filled with computer and satellite equipment, some so complex that it was almost unrecognizable even to them.  Most of the shelves were a tangle of wires and cables, connecting dozens of monitors, computers, oscilloscopes, and amplifiers.  Clay estimated that Borger had enough coax cable in his office to start a television company.  A wooden desk sat in the corner under an old lamp with almost a dozen keyboards, some stacked on top of each other.

Borger stood nearby hunched over a table covered with a giant red and white map.  He looked up with raised eyebrows.  “Hey Clay, I didn’t know you were back.”

“Yeah, almost like it never happened.”

“Ah, you must have gotten called back for the Alabama.  I hear they want to get this zipped up and back out to sea next week.”

Caesare glanced down at the map.  “What’s this?”

“The Earth. At least part of it.  I finished stress testing the sats and didn’t find anything so I decided to take a look at the coordinates using the new Jason-2 satellite.”

Clay was familiar with the Jason-2.  Replacing its predecessor, the Jason-1, which itself replaced the TOPEX/Poseidon, the first satellite designed to study the planet’s magnetic field.  Those early missions had changed how satellite computer chips were designed and significantly increased their ability to withstand high doses of solar radiation, resulting in a boon for the satellite industry.  Yet, while the first two returned a wealth of information, the Jason-2 was the first craft sensitive enough to detect fields closer to the surface.  He recalled the launch creating quite a bit of excitement among the scientific community.

Borger continued.  “The maps won’t be completed for a few more years, but because of its launch orbit, the equator was the first area to be mapped, including the Caribbean where the Alabama reported the problem.”

They moved in closer.  “And?”

“Well, here’s the rest of the equator and here’s the area around Bimini,” he said, pointing to a large darkened circle.  “According to the J-2, there appears to be a very high level of magnetism here.”

“Any chance of a fluke?  Maybe the instruments aren’t calibrated yet.”

Borger shook his head and ran his hand over the rest of the map to straighten it.  “I don’t think so.  As you can see, the rest of the measurements are accurate.  Pretty coincidental that we’d see a glitch happen right here.  If I had to guess, I would say the sea floor has an unusually dense iron composition.”

Clay looked up.  “But that shouldn’t affect GPS.”

“Well, maybe not by itself, but we’ve been having small solar flares all month, and those have been known to throw off all kinds of things especially satellites.  The flares we had on the day the Alabama experienced this problem were pretty small but with the area having a high iron concentration, the ionization may have rendered the satellites unable to accurately pinpoint their position.”

“How long did the flares last on that day?”

“Six or seven hours, I think. I’d have to check.”

Clay stood up and tapped his finger on his chin, thinking.  “So if the flares were the cause we could expect to see inconsistencies in the sub’s data for up to six or seven hours prior?”

“Probably,” nodded Borger.  “They may be very subtle inconsistencies though, depending on how close they were to the area and their heading.”

Clay looked back to Borger.  “Can you find out exactly how long the flares lasted?”   He then turned to Caesare.  “Let’s pull all the sub data for that entire day.”

***

Four hours later, Caesare walked in and dropped a thick stack of paper on Clay’s desk.

“The Alabama’s complete log from the 31st.  Communications, navigation, propulsion…everything except the ship’s menu.”

“And?”

Caesare shook his head.  “Nothing.  Not a single discrepancy.  And let me tell you, that is one boring read.”

Clay flipped through the pile.  “Borger says the flares lasted almost eight hours, off and on.  Anything else from the tech team on board?”

“Nope.  They’re still tracing and testing cables, but I don’t expect to find anything.”

They both knew that the cabling was more of a formality than anything else.  A last act of diligence for the sake of being thorough.  Wiring and insulation in these subs were meticulous.  Rarely was the cabling ever found to be responsible.  He pushed his chair back, finally shaking his head after a long moment.  “Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t a solar flare, or a systems problem.”

“Or wiring,” Caesare added, leaning against the door frame.  “We going out?”

Clay nodded.

5

Alison sipped her tea and stared intently at the screen.  It was about to start, and she could almost hear her heart beating.  What’s with the anxiety?  She thought to herself.  You’d think you were the one on television.  She was rarely nervous, if you could even call this nervousness.  It was more excitement than anything else.  Her press release had been picked up by dozens of papers and news broadcasts, all wanting an interview.  She would never have imagined that kind of response, but with the progress they had made recently, maybe it was not so surprising.

What was surprising, was that they managed to make it on television and quickly.  NBC called and wanted Dubois to be part of their Monday show, just three days after their press release went out.  Previous announcements, albeit less exciting, had only been picked up by local papers.  Something about their latest news sure got somebody excited.  It made Alison wonder who got bumped.  Hopefully some corporate executive lined up to hype a new product line or brag about how much richer they were.

Chris Ramirez approached with his own mug and looked at his watch.  “Didn’t start yet, did it?”

She shook her head and bobbed her tea bag a couple times.

“You know you should have gone with him,” he said, taking a tentative sip.

Alison shook her head.  “Nah.  He’s better at this kind of stuff.”

“True,” Chris said, with a shrug.  “Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with him loving the spotlight.”

She raised her cup to hide the grin.

Suddenly Matt Lewis’s face filled the screen, his words barely audible until Lee turned up the volume.  “Here we go!”

“…at the Miami City Aquarium where a team of marine biologists have been trying to do the unthinkable.  Talk to another species.  With me today is Frank Dubois, the director of the center and the research being done there.  Welcome, Dr. Dubois.”

“Thank you, Matt.”  Frank’s face filled the screen and both Chris and Lee let out a whoop.   He looked good, comfortable on camera, much better than she would have.

“Doctor, I have to say, this is really exciting.  I never knew there was such research being done at the aquarium.  How did this all get started?”

Frank flashed his perfect smile and shrugged graciously.  He was a natural.  “Well the idea is not all that new, but the technology required for this approach was not available until very recently.  We started with a small grant and eventually garnered enough interest to pay some salaries.  In fact, much of the first two years of research was done on a volunteer basis by our senior researcher, Alison Shaw.”

Lee Kenwood leaned over and gave her a friendly bump.  “All right, Ali.”

“It’s a miracle,” Chris mumbled under his breath.

“Stop it!”  She blushed and stared back at the screen.  Accepting compliments was not her strong point.

Lewis continued on screen.  “So tell me about this IMIS system.”

“Well, it’s a distributed computing system which means we divvy up the load to a lot of smaller individual computers, over a hundred in this case.  This gives us processing power much greater than what we could achieve even with a super computer, and at a fraction of the cost.”

“And what does IMIS mean?

“IMIS is short for InterMammal Interpretive System.”

“And this IMIS translates the language?” asked Lewis.

Frank smiled.  “Well not yet.  But basically yes. IMIS works by recording all of the recognizable sounds from our dolphins; all of their clicks, whistles, even postures.  Once all of those have been captured in multiple scenarios, we then start the translation process using an advanced artificial intelligence program.”  He smiled again.  “Or at least we attempt a translation.”

Lewis frowned.  “So is this going to work? I mean, how long will it take to make this kind of breakthrough?”

“Well, the recording phase, or what we call phase one, has been completed.  Now we’ve begun phase two, which is Translation, and that’s all computer.  Unfortunately, since this has never been done before we really don’t have an estimate on how long it will take.  But the intelligence program is designed to learn as it goes, so every day it should get a little bit smarter.”

Lewis shook his head incredulously.  “How on earth do you write a program that talks to dolphins?”

“You get IBM’s help.”  They both laughed.  “IBM is actually one of our sponsors.  They have donated most of the hardware and a lot of programming brainpower.  The software is really quite impressive.”

“I bet it is,” Lewis continued, looking down at his notes.  “It says here that NASA is also one of your sponsors.”

“That’s right.”

Lewis shook his head.  “Okay, IBM I understand, but why NASA?  What interest would they have in something like this?”

“That’s a common question.  NASA is more interested in the technology that we’re using than us actually making contact.  They are hoping to build on the technology and one day use it to communicate with an alien intelligence.  If they find one, that is.”

“Really?”  Lewis was genuinely surprised.

Frank took a sip of water and nodded.  “Yes.  Their thinking is that our hopes of communicating with aliens are pretty remote if we haven’t even learned to communicate with another species on the same planet.”  He shrugged.  “The fundamental approaches should be very similar.”

“And here you are on the verge of doing just that.”

Frank smiled again and raised his hand in a cautionary gesture.  “Well, I don’t know if I would say on the verge.  We’re closer, a lot closer than say we were six years ago, but there is still a lot of work to do.  In all honesty, we may still be in for a very long wait.  Like I said, it’s up to the computers now.”

“So, if you are able to translate, what will you say?  Obviously, you’re not going to ask them what it’s like to be a fish.”  The audience laughed.

“Well, we might still ask them that,” Frank said with a smile.  “But no, it’s going to depend on what we can translate, if anything.  Dolphins are the second smartest animal on the planet and they are the only species besides humans that are self-aware.  For example, when you put a mirror in the tank, dolphins will actually look at themselves and even examine their bodies.  They understand the connection and the fact that there is a world around them, so the depth of exchange possible here is staggering.”

Lewis scooted forward slightly with genuine interest.  “Let me ask you this, without knowing what level of translation might be possible, what at this stage are you hoping for?  In other words what are you hoping to learn if all goes well, even if it takes years?”

Frank tilted his head, momentarily considering the question.  “Well, first and foremost, we would want to know who they are as a species.  And by we, I mean us humans, would want to know, as one sentient being to another, as one civilization to another.”

“Civilization?”

“Yes,” he continued.  “We define a civilization as an advanced state of society.  Obviously they have no technology or industry but government and culture are huge components of what we consider a civilization.  Like humans, dolphins are social creatures.  We know they live and operate in large groups, sometimes in the tens of thousands.  But what is really exciting is the idea of culture.  Again, dolphins are extremely intelligent, compared to the rest of the animal kingdom.  They even have a sense of humor.”

Alison watched the salesman emerge in Frank.  This was how he got their funding year over year.  He was a god.

“We know dolphins have a complex language.  But imagine…if they have the ability to pass information, not just to each other, but from generation to generation.  We could be talking about a lineage, about a progressive cognition.  That is culture!”

The idea had not been lost on Lewis.  He sat motionless for a moment before speaking.  “Wow.  That is really exciting.”  He reached out his hand.  “We wish you the best of luck and can’t wait to have you back.”

“Thank you.”  Frank smiled and shook.

“Dr. Frank Dubois,” Lewis said, closing. “Director at the Miami City Aquarium.”

“Alright!” Ken reached forward and turned the volume back down.  “Maybe now we’ll get some real funding.”

Alison smiled, her fingernail still between her teeth.  Not bad, she thought, not bad at all.

6

The Pathfinder was an oceanic research and survey ship.  At just under three thousand tons she was capable of an impressive sixteen knots fully loaded.  Commissioned in 1994, the Pathfinder was one of the Navy’s most modern and capable science vessels, performing experiments throughout the Atlantic Ocean.  Clay could see the ship’s unmistakable white hull from the window of the Sikorsky Seahawk helicopter, even at altitude.  And at two hundred feet long, the Pathfinder was large, though still one of the smaller ships in the research fleet.  He knew landing a helicopter of this size was going to be tight.

The helicopter banked slightly and began a gradual descent.  Clay relaxed and laid his head against the headrest.  Next to him, Steve Caesare slept soundly, almost in a catatonic state.  A trick many learned in their early days of service was “sleep when you can”, and Caesare had taken the lesson to heart.  Clay often joked that had he been there; Caesare would have slept through the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Clay watched through the window as the helicopter dropped closer to sea level.  After a few minutes, the pilot leveled off and skimmed the last mile at just under a hundred feet, low enough to see schools of colorful fish below the clear blue water.  He slapped Caesare awake and fastened his seat belt.

The helicopter slowed and hovered as it positioned itself over the ship’s black landing pad.  It floated close to the deck until the pilot could match the rising and falling of the ship on the ocean swells.  Reaching the last few feet, the craft dropped suddenly and bounced onto the pad.  An ensign trotted out beneath the slowing blades and pulled the door open.  With a quick salute, he unfolded the small set of stairs outward and motioned for Clay and Caesare to follow him.

They grabbed their bags and made their way off the pad and across the deck.  After climbing two flights of stairs, they opened a white steel door and stepped onto the bridge.

Captain Emerson looked up as the two men stepped inside.

Emerson grinned and extended his hand to Clay.  “Clay, how the hell are you?”

“Good, Rudy.  How are things in paradise?”

“Not bad.  I don’t think I’ve worn long sleeves in two years,” he said smiling.  He turned to Caesare.  “And, who do we have here?”

“Rudy, this is Commander Steve Caesare.  He’s in E&S too.”

Emerson shook Caesare’s hand and eyed the small trident pin on his collar.  “Pleased to meet you.  You were a SEAL too, were you?”

“A pleasure, sir.  Yes, some time back.  Was in Somalia in ’93.  Got transferred out a year after that.”

“Somalia.”  Emerson sighed.  “That was a real mess.”

“Yes, sir, it sure was.  Lost some friends.”

Emerson frowned and nodded.  “So, what is it that has us racing across the whole damn Atlantic to meet you fellas?”

Clay smiled.  Like Caesare, Emerson was another old Navy friend.   And though he took great pleasure maintaining his gruff exterior, much like the old sea dogs, he was never able to fully pull it off.  Nevertheless, Emerson had fun playing the part.  He was a good friend to have, being skipper of one of the leading research vessels in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command.   A large part of the MSC’s primary mission was to provide a wide range of support operations including fueling, vehicles, ammunition, and supplies.   Being part of the support system for the entire U.S Navy gave Emerson a deep insight into many things in which the military arm was involved.

Clay shrugged.  “Just some signal interference.  We need to put it to bed so the Alabama can go back out.  We lucked out that you were closest and have the new ROV onboard.”

“Well, we’re certainly one of the more comfortable ships.”  He signaled to a subordinate to take over the bridge.  “You’ll like the rover called Triton II; no tether and uses ultra-low frequency which gives it a damn impressive range.”

“How deep have you taken her?” asked Caesare.

“Four thousand feet, maybe more.  We’ll have to ask Tay. He’s the lead engineer.”

Clay and Caesare were impressed.  Almost a mile without a tether was nothing short of astounding.

Emerson led the men outside and back down the way they came.  At the bottom of the stairs, a female officer stopped and saluted.  The captain returned it quickly without slowing.  He saw the men exchange looks from the corner of his eye and replied without being asked.  “We have six female officers on board.  Bit of a pain to set up separate quarters and all, but it’s worth it.  Having them aboard raises the level of professionalism, contrary to popular belief.”  He ducked and stepped through a doorway and after a left turn, stepped into the galley.  “Coffee?” he asked, picking up a pot and selecting a mug from a neatly stacked pile.

Nodding, they both accepted a cup in turn.

“So, what kind of interference you guys having down here?”

Clay shrugged.  “Not entirely sure.  Nothing too serious, probably just interference based on high iron in the soil.  We need to get some samples for analysis.”  He sipped from his mug.  “We may have to come back out with an old sub and spot check if we don’t find something obvious.”

Caesare looked at Emerson.  “Incidentally Captain, we’d like to get some system logs from the Pathfinder too and compare them with the sub’s.  It’s likely an issue with depth or proximity to pockets of mineral concentrations, so we should eliminate surface ships from the list while we’re here.”

“Of course,” Emerson nodded.  He looked at his watch.  “We should head aft.  Tay and the team should be about ready to launch the Triton.  We’ll be at your coordinates within a few minutes.”

Reaching the stern of the ship, Clay and Caesare found several of the team slowly lifting the Triton II up and off the deck.  The craft was a noticeable change from most of the Navy’s previous remote operated vehicles.  Unlike the older tubular designs, the Triton was closer to U-shaped with most of the craft built around a clear sphere.  A number of motors and fins were attached to what was considered the back, though the entire craft was still more round than anything else.  Unlike the traditional designs of submarines, a sphere or globe maintained perfect pressure on all sides as it descended, in essence making the craft stronger the deeper it went.  By designing the Triton around such a shape, it was able to reach deeper depths without special efforts to increase body strength required in older tube shapes.  The tradeoff, of course, was speed.  With more surface area meeting the water while it moved, Clay guessed that the Triton was likely twenty-five percent slower than older models.  Nevertheless, with the benefit of a deeper limit without a ship having to carry thousands of feet of thick cable to use as an umbilical cord, he could see why the Triton II was so popular.

Edwin Tay was of Chinese descent and looked to be in his late thirties.  He was shorter than the rest of the team but was clearly in charge.  He was giving a steady stream of instructions as they smoothly moved the rover out and over the water, suspended by a long, thick articulating arm.  He finally turned and motioned for one of his team to lock it in place just moments before the drone of the engines disappeared and the ship began slowing to a stop.  Emerson caught his attention and waved him over.

“Mr. Tay, meet commanders John Clay and Steve Caesare.  Our friends from the E&S team in D.C.”

Tay shook their hands.  “Welcome aboard. I hear you’ve come to have some fun with our new rover.”

Clay laughed.  “I’m afraid it’s a bit more boring than that.  We just need some soil samples to take home.  We were fortunate that you were in the area, especially with the new rover.”

Tay looked back at the craft, hanging suspended in the air and swinging slightly from side to side.  “Yeah, she’s a beauty.  Battery life is a little limited, but I suspect that will be improved in future versions.  Even with that, we’ve had her down to forty-three hundred feet without a glitch.  Pictures as clear as cable TV,” he said with a wink.

“She’s a nice looking sub,” Caesare replied.

Tay quickly wiped his forehead.  “We still need to run some checks, but we should be ready to launch within about fifteen minutes or so.  In the meantime, we have a pretty decent galley if you guys are hungry.”

Clay put a hand on his stomach.  “Sounds good to me.”

“Let’s go round something up then,” said Emerson, nodding his head back the way they came.  “It’s almost lunch time anyway.”

***

Captain Emerson removed his hat and scratched the base of his hairline.  His gray hair was cut short, a style many in the military never outgrew.  He dropped his hat on the seat next to him and picked up his second cup of coffee for a drink before continuing.  “Getting a bit of pressure to resolve this, are ya?  I’m sure Washington isn’t happy with that large a crew and sub sitting idle dockside.  What’s it costing them, a million a day?”

“One point four, actually.”  Clay frowned.

Emerson grimaced.  “I hope Langford is backing you guys up.”

“He’s pretty good about that,” Clay said, watching Caesare take a bite of his pork chop with raised eyebrows.  The food was excellent.  “Still he’s got Miller breathing down his neck with the cost, but he can only stand on procedure for so long.  He made sure to mention the number a couple of times.”  Clay reached for his own mug.  “I suspect we’re looking at an anomaly here, but we have to go by the book.  We haven’t found anything wrong with the sub or the satellites which means a site survey.  If we find the soil rich in iron or other minerals, we’ll need to file a report with a theory which means scientific testing and peer reviews.  We may not have an answer for years.”

Emerson nodded.  “If it comes down to a theory, they’ll ship out the next day.  Nothing more that can be done until more testing bears something out.”

Clay took a bite of his salad.  “So, anything interesting on the research front?”

Emerson shook his head.  “Only on how we are becoming more and more commercial with each project.  Corporations are driving it all with their friends in Washington beating their ‘in the interest of national security’ drums which means that anything connected to energy these days, especially the black liquid kind, is considered national security.  Most of our projects in the last few years have been soil and drilling samples thinly disguised as marine research which really means looking for new oil reserves for the conglomerates.”  He leaned back in his chair unable to hide his irritation.  “I’ll tell you this, corporations have become the puppet masters behind the government.”  Emerson exhaled heavily.  “This is not the same Navy we started with, gentlemen.”

“Agreed,” Caesare said with his final swallow.  “It’s not an adventure anymore, it’s just a job.”

Emerson laughed.  “Maybe it’s time we reversed our motto.”  He leaned forward again and picked up his fork.  “Don’t get me wrong though, there are still some interesting things happening in the research area.  Hell, just our ability to probe deeper with better systems like this new Triton generates a fair amount of excitement.  The level of detail we’re able to track has the Navy talking about fields of underwater sensors and the idea of developing a living map, all live data and changing as it happens...pretty amazing stuff.”

“Sounds interesting.” Caesare emptied his water glass.  “I wonder how much we’ll spend trying to weaponize it.”

Emerson laughed again, harder.  “I like you, Caesare.  A fellow cynic.  How’d you ever get mixed up with Clay?”

He smiled at Clay before replying.  “Ah.  We met in SEAL training, back in ‘89. Clay got thrown out a while later.  What was it again?” he asked jokingly, “wearing dresses or something?”

Clay grinned.  “Bad knees.”

“Right.  Anyway, he ended up in intelligence working with some of the old members of SEAL Teams One and Two, so we worked together on and off for a couple years until he went off to Investigations.  We stayed in touch and one day he said he was looking for someone to join his team.”

“So you moved to Washington.”  Emerson was clearly enjoying this.

“I had no choice,” he shrugged.  “He had too much dirt on me.”

“Sadly,” added Clay, “everyone has dirt on Steve.”

“So, from SEAL team to an electronics expert.  That’s quite a jump,” Emerson said.

“Well, like Clay, I had a science background before joining the SEALs.”

The Captain nodded.  “Well, I’m surprised we haven’t met before.  This isn’t the first time Clay has hijacked one of my ships in the name of E&S.”

“Yeah, well, the last time,” Clay mused, nodding at Caesare, “he was getting married…again.”

“A girl in every port, I’m sure.”  Emerson looked at his watch.  “The team should be about ready.  I’ll drop you off at the comms room before I head back up to the bridge.”

The communications room served as the headquarters where most of the Pathfinder’s research was done.  Packed with wall to wall instruments, it was roomier than they were expecting, and clean as a whistle; a reminder that Emerson ran a tight ship.   They ducked slightly as they stepped into the room.  Several of the team members were there with one seated at what looked to be the control panel for their remote wonder.  Tay stood behind his seated comrade, looking over some instruments.  He stood up quickly, just as Emerson nodded, and headed back up to the bridge.

“You guys ready?  We’re done checking out.”  He looked out the small window.  “Should have plenty of daylight depending on how many samples you need.”  He motioned to one of the men next to him.  “Grab them a couple seats, Pete.”

Clay and Caesare sat down and scooted forward, close enough to see the monitors clearly.  Two were displaying a video feed, one of the rover swinging from the metal arm outside, and the other showing the view looking out from the Triton’s bubble.  The gentle waves, distorted through the craft’s reinforced Plexiglas, could be seen slapping against a small section of the ship’s hull.

“All right, all systems go?” Tay asked, looking around the room.  Most of the members turned from their instruments and nodded with an “aye”.

“All right, let ‘er drop,” he called out.

The crew member in the seat reached forward, grasped a chrome handle and pulled back firmly.  All eyes went to the first monitor and watched it fall from the steel arm into the water a few feet below.  Tay smiled and looked back at his visitors.  “That was always the worst part with the tethered rovers.”

The second monitor showed water sloshing across the Triton’s bubbled window, with roughly half beneath the water line.

“Everything up on screen, please.” A moment later the other monitors came to life displaying a variety of statistics and graphs.  The largest monitor reported information on battery charge and graphs for each of the rover’s nine motors.  Each graph listed the current and RPM of its individual motor, giving an impressive level of granularity.  “Looking good.”

In the chair, Jim Lightfoot grasped a large joystick and gave it a gentle twist. The rover banked right and began moving away from the ship.

“Okay,” Tay said standing up straight.  “How deep was your sub when it had the problem?”

“Five hundred and seventy meters.”

“Alright Lighty,” he said patting his teammate on the shoulder.  “Let’s take her down.”

With a gentle push forward, the Triton’s view became clear as it slipped below the surface.  The water was crystal clear with the colors becoming dark blue as the craft descended into the ocean’s depths.

“Full steam ahead.”

Lightfoot continued to push forward on the joystick and the small specks floating in the water suddenly raced past as the rover accelerated.  Clay looked up and watched the RPM’s of the motors jump.

“Lights on,” called Tay.  Instantly, the increasingly dark water became a tunnel of white light as the LED’s ringing the front of the Triton came to life.

Caesare looked at Clay, clearly impressed.

“Passing thirty meters,” called out a crew member.

“So, you guys think metal deposits in the soil are what threw off the sub’s instruments?”

“That’s the theory.  The area seems to be highly magnetized.  If the soil is rich enough, it could be influential.”

“Have to be damn rich, I would think,” Tay said looking back at the screens.  “Maybe we should stake a claim and start mining.”  He said with a grin.

Clay smiled in response.  He hadn’t considered the possible commercial aspects of such a discovery.  The soil would have to be surprisingly rich to interfere with the sub’s signaling, and any soil with that level of density might prove very attractive to mining companies.

“Who knows,” said Tay.  “You guys might just solve the old triangle mystery.”

And litter the Caribbean with thousands of mining rigs, thought Clay.

“Passing one hundred meters.”

The video feed now showed nothing but the white light in front of the Triton’s window, surrounded by a ring of black water.  The specks in the water zipped by now, looking more like strings than dots.  It reminded Clay a little of the special effects of stars speeding past in the old science fiction movies.

“How much physical range does the Triton have in those batteries?” Caesare asked.

“Depends on our speed,” replied Tay.  “With our planned speed and depth, we should be able cover a few square miles and still have enough to get her back to the ship.”

“Passing two hundred meters.”

“You guys realize that we’ll only be able to scoop the soil down to six or seven inches deep right?  We only have-”  Tay stopped speaking as he noticed some interference in the video monitor.  “That’s strange.  We’ve never seen interference at this depth before.”  He turned his head slightly without taking his eyes away.  “Let’s record this,” he called.  Behind, him a crew member typed a few strokes on his keyboard and another monitor began displaying a copy of the Triton’s video feed.   A red circle appeared in the upper right hand corner, indicating a recording in progress.

“Passing three hundred meters.”

The interference was getting noticeably worse now, reminiscent of the old TV antennae reception that Clay had used as a boy.  The snow was quickly taking over the screen.

“Alright, let’s slow her down,” Tay cautioned.

Lightfoot pulled back slowly on the joystick.

“Passing four hundred meters.”

“Slow her down!  Slow her down!” barked Tay.

“I’m trying,” replied Lightfoot.  He pulled back harder on the stick.  There was no noticeable change in speed.  The specks were still flying past and becoming very hard to see with so much interference.  They were almost invisible now.

“Turn us out!”

Lightfoot twisted the joystick trying to bank the Triton out of its steep dive.  The picture shifted only slightly.

“We’re losing her!” Lightfoot shouted.

He gave it everything and pushed the stick hard to the right.  The rover continued its path downward.  He jammed it left.  “I’m getting no response!”

Tay jumped past Lightfoot and slammed his hand down on one of the buttons on the control panel.  “Blow the tanks before we lose signal!”

A moment later, the video screen faded to black.  The interference was gone, along with the signal.

There was a long silence before Tay spoke.  “Shit.”  He sighed and rubbed his forehead.  “Let’s try and track it with sonar and see where it lands.  With any luck, it emptied its tanks and will float to the top.”  He backed up and leaned against a metal desk along the opposite wall, thinking a moment before turning to Clay.  “If it doesn’t come up, we’re going to have to call in another ship with a tethered rover.”

“How long will that take?”

“Depends on how far away they are.  Probably a few days.  We have more than enough room for you two, if you’d like to stay.”

“Thanks.”  Clay looked around the room.  “Do you have a phone I can use for a ship to shore?”

“Yeah,” replied Lightfoot, standing up.  “I’ll show you.”

Caesare frowned and watched them leave.  Three more days.  That was one call Admiral Langford would not be happy to get.

Tay turned back to Caesare.  “Well, you sure have something down there.”  He looked back at the blank monitor.  “Triton uses ultra-low frequency at 3 hertz, which should be immune from damn near everything.  Whatever your problem is, it’s not mineral deposits.”

7

Alison walked down the darkened hall with a cold Coke in her hand.  She didn’t care for sodas but she needed the caffeine.  She looked at her watch.  It was almost midnight and she was thinking about home, especially after sleeping in her office the last few nights.  As Alison entered the lab, she saw Lee still sitting at his desk, looking at the racks of servers and their countless green lights flashing and illuminating the dark walls with a soft glow.

“I didn’t know you were still here,” she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him.

He smiled without looking over.  “I really should go home.  I’m beat.”

“Why don’t you?”

He looked at her, with a smirk.  “Why don’t you?”

“I guess I just want to see what your servers can do,” she said playfully.

“It could be a long time, Ali,” he said, looking back to the servers.  “It could be years before they spit something out.  Hell, they may never spit out anything at all.”  He opened his eyes wide trying to fight off the exhaustion.  “But I’m just like you, too excited to go home, and sitting here watching it work is…I don’t know…addictive.”

By it, he meant the large flat panel monitor on his desk.  On it the screen displayed the collective results from over a hundred servers, which were constantly processing.  On the top half of the screen, dozens of jagged lines stretched from one side to the other, like the line graphs found in spreadsheet programs.  The lines represented various streams of raw data recorded twenty-four hours a day for the past four years; frequencies, interval clicks, pitches, video, everything.  The lines jumped up and down vertically, weaving in and out while the system looked for relationships between the streams and their trillions of bytes.

Lee looked at the last rack along the wall.  The systems there had a noticeably different look, with far fewer lights.  Unlike the servers, these lights all blinked at exactly the same time.  It was the rack that held the data itself, thousands of terabytes and a seemingly infinite number of variables, all of which IMIS was diligently sifting through.

Alison knew that Lee had a special place in his heart for the equipment.  He worked hand in hand with IBM in setting things up and was part of the programming team which designed the artificial intelligence software that was now working through all of the data.  He was also the expert on all of the digital camera and recording systems located strategically around the giant tank, recording every conceivable angle of Dirk and Sally’s movements and body angles.  The system was now going over those shots frame by frame, along with everything else.  As a marine biologist, how the intelligence of the machines worked was beyond her.  But Lee was as sharp as they came, and he had spent thousands of hours testing the algorithms.  If it failed, she knew it would not be due to lack of effort on anyone’s part.  Her worst fear, in fact, all of their worst fears, was that they would be long retired, or even dead, before IMIS found anything.

She looked at the screen with Lee and watched the pictures of the dolphins flash across, frame by frame, beneath the dancing, jagged streams of data.

“Do you think we’ll ever see anything?” she asked, lowering her chin onto her crossed arms.

After a few moments, he sighed.  “I don’t know.  I sure hope so.”  He turned and gave her a wink.  “If not, it’s sure been a great ride, eh?”

“It sure has.”  She patted his arm softly.  “Let’s go home.  It’s about time we slept in our own beds.  Besides, we don’t want your wife down here chewing us out.”

Lee laughed and stood up.  “Yeah, you don’t want that.  Trust me.”

***

Alison sat in her car and watched Lee drive away.  The lamppost overhead showered her small Chevy with yellow light as she stared past the building and out at the dark ocean behind it.  She had dreamt of this day for years and now that it was here, she was scared to death.  The tens of thousands of hours she’d spent studying and planning and documenting, was all done in an effort to get to this point; Phase Two.  She knew that of all of the work they would do, Phase Two was the biggest unknown.  Not gathering information, but actually being able to translate it.  Lee was right.  It was a long shot.  There was no way to know whether any of it would be decipherable using something so potentially limiting as human logic.

Alison realized that she had been afraid of this phase from the very beginning, and had simply ignored it, suppressing her fear by focusing on all the work that was still ahead of them.  What if it didn’t work?  What if the last six years had been a complete waste, getting this far only to find a brick wall and a powerful computer system that couldn’t make heads or tails out of their data?  What if the data was collected wrong?  What if they had left a major piece out, something that never occurred to them?

Alison leaned back against the vinyl seat and closed her eyes.  God, please let this work.  Please don’t let me die without ever knowing.

8

The Antarctic was unforgiving in November.  At two full miles above sea level the interior of the continent could reach temperatures of -130 degrees.  The Halley research station was located near the south end of the Ronne Ice Shelf and served as a research outpost for some of the most intense climate studies on the planet.  Shared and co-funded by the United States and Europe, the station was used year round by various teams conducting research, the bulk of which was measuring climate warming changes over the last several thousand years.  Using ice samples drilled from the frozen ground, the evidence was overwhelming; the planet was warming quickly, faster than any natural cycle recorded.  Whatever the arguments and theories back home regarding cause and effect, the result was indisputable.  The atmosphere was warming and the ice continent was melting.

Leo Torbin and Gale Preece were staffed at the Halley remote field camp for another three weeks.  They had completed their studies and spent most of their remaining time compiling data, while huddled together in the outpost’s small concrete framed structure, and habitually monitoring their diesel fuel level.  At two o’clock in the morning, they lay in their cots, long since accustomed to sleeping through noise that would have had most people wondering if they were going to live to see the next day.  Specially designed blankets covered them to their necks.  Leo’s wool-capped head stuck out from under his blankets while Gale’s remained completely concealed below the thick fabric.  A slow rise and fall of the blanket was the only evidence that Gale was even there.

On the plain gray walls hung a variety of tools, clothing, pots and pans; necessities of a humble and tenuous residence.  In the furthest corner from the door, next to the large propane heater, sat a metal desk covered with stacks of handwritten papers along with two Toughbook laptops, specially designed to work in extreme conditions.  A second door with a sign reading “Toilet” remained shut, providing a small amount of additional insulation from the howling winds outside and their constant onslaught against the concrete walls.

At first, the sound of a strange rumble was drowned out by the winds outside, but as it grew, the rattling equipment throughout the room grew louder.  The walls of the shelter began to shake violently, causing some of the pans to leap from their hooks and fall onto the floor.  One of the laptops vibrated across the desk and fell off, crashing into a metal bucket and sending it sliding across the floor.  The thunderous rumble became deafening.

Leo jumped from his cot while half awake, and tried to grasp something for support.  He turned just in time to see the shape of Gale tumble from her bed and onto the floor.  He reached and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her to him as she struggled to get the blanket off.  It was an earthquake!

Holding onto each other, they managed to pull themselves into the nearest corner and covered their heads.  Everything seemed to be falling around them now as the small building swayed eerily from side to side.  Leo grabbed the rest of Gale’s thick blanket and wrapped it around them.  Under the blanket, they quickly found themselves praying that the structure would hold.  He dropped his head and squeezed Gale tight.

***

The earthquake lasted less than two minutes but the wind took five hours to die out.  By seven a.m., conditions had receded to a gentle ten miles per hour when the thick metal door of the still-standing Halley outpost swung open.  Leo and Gale both stepped out, clothed in full protective suits and never so happy to see the sun.  In all of their time spent in Antarctica, it was the closest they had come to dying.  All it would have taken was even a small hole in the wall and the wind would have done the rest.

They looked around at the icy desert, stretching out as far as they could see.  Leo looked up at the transmission tower and frowned.  The tower was in perfect shape but the shortwave transmitter inside was smashed.  Thankfully, their backup line of communication was unharmed.  He pulled the brick sized satellite phone out of his large jacket pocket and flipped up the oversized antennae.

As Leo removed his glove to dial, Gale walked over to the snowmobiles.  One sat on its side, yet both vehicles appeared undamaged.  The small shack housing the giant diesel tank looked like it held up, as well as the larger building.  She turned and did a full scan.  Aside from the mess inside the main station, everything looked oddly normal.

“McMurdo, this is Torbin at Halley camp.  Can you hear me?” he yelled into the phone while looking at Gale.  “Yes, we’re alright.  Looks like we had an earthquake last night.”  He paused, looking around.  “Critical systems seem to be in working order but we’ve lost the shortwave.  Repeat, we have lost shortwave communications.  We’re going to finish a sweep of the base and have a wider look around on the bikes.”  He listened again.  “Yes, right. Will do.”

Leo hung up and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.  “They want us to call back after we have a look around.  If there are any immediate problems, they will move the delivery up.  If not, they’ll bring another shortwave unit with them next week.”

Gale nodded.  “Well, the generator works, so we have heat and electricity, and we’re certainly not short of food and water.”

Together, they grabbed the overturned snowmobile and pushed it back up onto its treads.  “Could have been a whole lot worse.”  Leo checked the vehicle’s gas tank for any leaks.

Gale checked the ignition, turning the key back and forth.

“Wow, look at that!”  Gale turned and followed the direction of Leo’s arm and gasped.  In the distance, the blue sky above suddenly ended on the horizon with an enormous wall of white.

“What the hell is that?”

Leo shook his head.  “I don’t know.  It’s not a storm.”  He climbed onto one of the snowmobiles.  “Let’s take a ride and have a look.”

***

The Halley camp was over a hundred miles from the Amundsen-Scott South Pole station and over a thousand miles from the supply station at McMurdo.  With help so far away, they kept to a slow pace on the snowmobiles, taking almost an hour to get close enough.  It looked like many of the “white outs” seen in the Antarctic but this one was not moving.  Instead, it seemed to linger in the air for as far as the eye could see.

Side by side, Leo and Gale entered what looked like a white fog and visibility quickly dropped down to a few dozen feet.  They slowed the machines even further to a crawl, carefully scanning the ground for any sudden rifts exposed by the storm.  They had been to this area many times, as their camp was the primary station of study for the ice shelf, but they couldn’t tell exactly where they were.

Leo stopped, raised his darkened glasses, and looked up.  The sun was completely blocked out which made it harder to see any detail on the white ground.  Gale put her snowmobile in neutral and pulled out a hand held GPS unit.

She raised her goggles up over her hood.  “We’re still about 5 miles from the first ridge.  How much further do you want to go?”

Leo watched the white fog carefully.  “I think it’s starting to clear.  Don’t know how far out it extends though.  Let’s go up a little further and see if it thins out more.”

Gale nodded and put the device back in the pocket of her oversized parka.  They continued creeping forward.

After several more minutes, the visibility slowly started to improve and the sun began to make some limited progress getting through.  They both watched the ground carefully as they slowly sped up.

“Look out!”  Suddenly, Leo stopped his snowmobile with a tight clench of the brakes.  His bike quickly started to tilt forward as he stood and pushed himself backward up and over the back of the seat.  He landed head first on the snow and barely crawled out of the way before his snowmobile lifted its end into the air and disappeared.

Gale twisted her handlebars tight to avoid hitting him and nearly pitched into a sideways roll.  With gritted teeth, she was just able to stay on and avoid following his tracks which abruptly disappeared less than a foot away.  “Jesus!”

She jumped off and backed away.  Gale and Leo retreated several more steps to assure themselves that they were safe.

“What the hell is that?”  He said, slowly stepping forward while Gale unconsciously tugged him backwards.

Leo gradually inched toward the end of his tracks to see how far the drop was.  Near the edge, he tested the strength of the snow with a few heavy steps.  Gale instinctively took his other arm to let him lean forward and peer over the edge.  He could see his bike lying on its side below.

“How deep is it?”  She asked from behind him, reaffirming her grip.

Leo shook his head.  “It’s only about 15 feet down.  But…this is no hole.”  He waved her forward.  “Come here, carefully.”

She took several small steps forward until she was able to look over the edge.  She looked to the side where the air continued to clear and began to reveal how far the cliff extended.

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god is right.  This thing goes on for a long way.”  He pulled her back away from the edge with him.  “What does the GPS say?”

Gale pulled the GPS out and checked their coordinates.  She looked at him with a worried look on her face.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She shook her head.  Worry was turning to fear.  “We’re nowhere near the Shelf.”

9

The front doors of the aquarium were locked and would not be opened again for eight hours.  All displays were off and only a few overhead lights lit the long tiled floor.  Darkened posters lined the walls, barely legible in the shadows, displaying some of the aquarium’s upcoming events.

With all the lights off in the lab, the tiny blinking lights from the servers now gave the room an eerie glow.  The hum of the machines was much louder without the white noise from the building’s air conditioning system.  In fact, without the servers, there would have been no sound at all.

The colorful data streams continued to dance across the top of the monitor on Lee Kenwood’s desk.  The IMIS system never stopped.  It continued relentlessly processing the data.

Suddenly all of the lines came together for a single moment, the point of intersection instantly highlighted by a large green circle.  A note sounded and letters appeared in the lower left hand corner.  Words Translated: 1 - Estimated Accuracy: 77%

As suddenly as they had stopped, the streams began dancing again.

10

Alison rode up to the back door of the aquarium and jumped off her mountain bike.  It was almost noon and she had promised herself she would only stop to get the mail she’d left the night before.  Her bills were just one of the casualties of working seventy hours a week for the last two years.  It was a miracle they hadn’t turned off her electricity yet.  She leaned her bike against the wall and retrieved her keys from the small pouch under the seat.  She unlocked both dead bolts and swung the door open with a squeak.  After a quick trot down the darkened hallway, she unlocked a second door and walked into the lab, now brightly lit from sunlight coming through the glass walls from the top of Dirk and Sally’s open tank.  She could see the dolphins on the far side, swimming back and forth before a large pack of children, all pushing their noses against the cold glass.

Alison smiled and walked into her office, a small nondescript room housing little more than a desk, computer, phone, and a foldup cot in the corner.  The books and paper were carefully stacked and organized, a reflection of her sometimes irritating attention to detail.  She pressed the button on her phone next to a blinking light and typed in her code.  The messages started playing aloud while she looked around her desk.

“Hi, Ms. Shaw.  My name is Jay Sunderland and I’m a reporter for the Miami Independent.  I wanted to come in and interview-”

Alison moaned and cut it off.  The next message wasn’t any better.  She continued scouring her desk for the envelopes.  Frowning, she looked up and thought for a moment, then leaned and looked out through the doorway.  They were sitting on Lee’s desk with her cell phone on top.

She walked briskly by and picked them up when something suddenly caught her eye.  She looked at the screen and her eyes shot wide open.  “Oh my god!”

In a panic, she reached for the phone, knocking it and most of the paper off the desk along with the mail.  She quickly picked up her phone and began typing a text message with her shaking hands.

***

The late morning sun shone through the slatted blinds and across a figure in a large queen bed.  The room was simply decorated with a large dresser and desk, on top of which sat a laptop computer and a pile of papers.  Around the room were several pictures of group events, most with friends packing into the shot.  The settings of the pictures varied widely with some on the beach, some in mountains, and more in what appeared to be small and remote villages.

A professed over-sleeper, Chris Ramirez was still face down in bed when his phone chimed.  Barely more awake than asleep, he sighed and felt absently for it on top of his headboard.  He rolled over and pushed the comforter off his head.  He rubbed his eyes held his phone up about a foot from his face, and read the message.

“Oh my god!” he yelled.  He quickly tried to get up but tumbled out and onto the floor along with his sheets.  He desperately tried to kick them off and ran into the bathroom, dragging the top half of his bed behind him.  He stopped and read the phone again before dousing his face with cold water and running his wet hands through his messy brown hair.

***

In his small apartment, Lee sat in the living room and stared at a wide computer monitor.  With his hair sticking up and a fresh layer of stubble, it was clear that he had been in the chair for quite a while.  He wore a lightweight headset and watched the screen intently as his onscreen character moved in and out of large rooms, carrying a fearsome weapon.  In the video game, his avatar scanned from side to side looking for enemies.  Seeing none, Lee relaxed and reached for a can of Mountain Dew.  He raised the can to his lips and quickly emptied it just as his phone burst out playing Bob Segar’s Old Time Rock and Roll.  He reached for it, keeping his eyes on the screen.  When he held it up and peered at the tiny LCD screen, he froze.  “Hooooly cow!”  He jumped out of the chair, tearing his headset off and grabbing a pair of pants from an open dresser drawer.  He hopped and stumbled through the bedroom doorway with only one leg in.

Lee passed the doorway to the bedroom where his wife was sleeping.  He quickly ran back in and yanked a t-shirt out of a large drawer.  “I gotta go honey!”

***

Frank Dubois and his wife sat at a small table on the patio of a small French café.  A tall shade protected them from the already blazing sun.  He was reading the Wall Street Journal on a tablet computer, while his wife nibbled on the last of her croissant and flipped through her Martha Stewart magazine.  She felt a tiny vibration against her hip and looked down at her purse hanging over the back of the chair.  “Ooh honey, your phone is buzzing,” she said, reaching in.

Frank lowered the tablet and reached out for the phone.  He turned it around and looked at the screen.  He instantly jumped out of his seat, knocking over the entire table.

“What, what is it?!” she cried, looking down to see if she was now wearing part of her breakfast.

He bent down and quickly picked up their things.  “We have to go!”

***

Lee’s old Volkswagen beetle and Frank’s BMW raced into the aquarium’s rear parking lot at the same time, both screeching to a halt next to each other.  Lee leapt out and ran in front of the BMW’s silver hood as Frank kissed his wife.  “I’ll call you later!”  With that, he chased after Lee and disappeared into the dark hallway, with the large steel door closing behind them.  They both sprinted down the hall and arrived to find Alison and Chris standing behind Lee’s desk looking at the screen.

“What have we got?!” Frank asked excitedly.

Alison didn’t reply.  She simply smiled and watched their expressions as they reached the desk and saw for themselves.

“Right on!” Lee exclaimed, thrusting a clenched fist in the air.  “Three words!”  He grabbed the mouse and clicked on a button labeled vocabulary which brought up a small window with the three words listed within it; Hello, Yes, No.

Everyone shouted in excitement and pressed into a clumsy group hug.  Alison took a deep breath and covered her mouth with her hands, trying to keep calm.

Lee looked at the details of each word.  “Look at the accuracy, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, eighty-one!”  He smiled broadly.  “Can you believe it?  The damn thing actually works!”

“We don’t know that yet,” Alison said.  They tried to remain calm but couldn’t seem to wipe the excitement off their faces.  “This may very well be an error.”  They all turned toward the tank.  Dirk and Sally were watching them from the other side of the glass, slowly moving back and forth.

“They’re watching us,” Chris said.

Alison smiled and approached the tank, placing her palm gently on the glass.  “They’ve probably never seen us this excited before.”

Lee looked at Alison.  “So…what do we do now?”

Everyone turned back to Frank, and he knew why.  Part of the project’s planning naturally covered what they would do in the event that the system actually translated something.  The protocol they agreed upon called for a series of data checks and careful documentation.  Of course, those procedures left out one big factor, which was the sheer excitement and elation of the thing actually working.

Frank looked serious for a moment, but was finally unable to suppress his smile.  “Let’s at least try to maintain some protocol.  Chris, grab a video camera and we’ll document later.”

Chris ran across the room and picked up a small camcorder while Lee slid into his chair.  He powered the camcorder on and pointed it at Lee’s monitor.

Lee took a deep breath and typed out the word Hello.  He looked at them over his shoulder and clicked the large button labeled Translate.

Nothing happened.

Chris began to speak when Lee held up a hand and stopped him.  Finally, from the underwater speaker submerged within the dolphin’s tank, a high-pitched sound emerged followed by two distinct clicks.

Dirk and Sally suddenly turned and looked at the speaker.  They swam over and examined it closely.  They looked from the speaker back to the team on the other side of the glass, then back to the speaker again.  Dirk bumped it gently with his nose.  Sally swam closer to the side of the tank, briefly opening her mouth and returning the same sound with two clicks.

Suddenly the word Hello appeared again on the monitor just below the word Lee had typed.

11

Alison felt a lump in her throat.  She was so overcome with emotion and excitement at the same time that she could barely move.  Still grinning, she watched Chris and Lee trying to quickly verify the camera had recorded correctly.  Frank was sitting on the edge of a desk behind Lee’s chair, staring at the screen in a daze.  She knew what he was thinking.  Beneath the initial excitement lay a blanket of doubt.  After all, they had only exchanged one word.  This could still be a fluke, a computer error, or sheer luck although Sally had clearly spoken something back to them.  Was it an actual exchange, or were they simply repeating what they heard?

“No problems with the camera.  We’re good.”  Chris swung the camera back around to Lee’s monitor.

Lee looked over his shoulder.  “What next?”

“Try it again.  Let’s make sure we’re not hallucinating here.”

Lee nodded and for the second time typed Hello.  This time, clicking the translate button without hesitation.  Again, the sounds were repeated through the underwater speaker.  Chris swung the camera to Dirk and Sally.

Sally swam in a tight circle excitedly and came back to the glass.  She repeated the same sounds.  The word Hello appeared again on the Lee’s screen.  He repeated the exchange a third time, and again, Sally replied.

“There was no delay through the speaker this time,” Lee was thinking out loud.  “Which means that when IMIS translates a word for the first time, it becomes permanent.  It is learning.”

Alison took a deep breath.  Lee was right.  This was not a fluke.  But, it didn’t mean that the word actually meant “hello” either.  It could still be gibberish and Sally simply repeated it for them.  Even some human languages were so complex that the slightest variations in tone or inflection could make the language nearly impossible to learn.  The Navajo language was a perfect example.  Their system was so complicated that unless you were born into the language, you would never be able to fully grasp it as an adult.  This was the reason it was so successful when used in World War II against the Japanese.  Could the dolphin’s language be the same way?  Could IMIS think it was translating something that it actually wasn’t?

Chris pulled back from the camera’s eyepiece.  “Now what?”

Alison leaned forward.  “The question is whether we have enough words for actual context.  Send another word.”

Lee typed the word Yes and slowly clicked the translate button.

After several long seconds, the speaker finally emitted a slightly different sound.  This time Dirk swam over and joined Sally at the glass.  No longer interested in the speaker, this time he spoke first, repeating the pattern.  The word Yes appeared on the screen as the second incoming word.

“Unbelievable,” said Frank, running his hand through his hair.

Alison walked over to the tank and looked through the glass, just a few feet from Dirk and Sally.  Were they talking?  She wasn’t so sure.

Suddenly Sally made several long screeches and clicks.  She swam again in a circle and repeated it.

The four looked at each other, then turned back towards the screen as Chris swiveled the camera back over Lee’s shoulder.  They all held their breath.

Finally, after a long pause, the computer beeped with large red letters appearing in the translated window.  Unable to Translate.

“I figured as much,” said Lee.  “Until IMIS has identified them, it won’t recognize new words.”  He turned back to the others.  “It appears we’re a little limited with three words.”

“Do we know for sure that it’s working?” asked Frank.

Lee forced himself to remain objective.  “I think so, but it’s too early to tell.”

“Let’s at least try the last word,” he said.

Lee nodded and typed the word No.  Clicking the translate button got the same response, again from Dirk.

After a long silence, Alison frowned and folded her arms.  “We need to wait for more words.”

***

Alison rubbed her eyes and looked up at Chris’ silhouette.  “What time is it?” she asked, looking around her darkened office.

“Almost five.  The sun will be up soon.”

She nodded.  “What’s up?  Did something happen?”

“We got another word.”

“Really?!  What?” She rolled off the cot and jumped up.

“Come and see.”

She passed him and raced to the desk.  “Food.” she said, with a smile.  “Have you tried it yet?”

“Nope, we were waiting for you,” Lee said, approaching from behind with a can of Coke.  Frank followed, looking as though he’d just been woken up as well.  “Ready?” Lee asked, sitting down.

Alison looked at the tank.  Dirk and Sally were already awake and looking at them expectantly.

“How about ‘Food Yes’?” she offered.

They all gave her a strange look.  “Food yes?”

Lee raised his eyebrows.  “Ah I see. Very clever.”  He looked at Chris.  “Ready to roll?”

Chris quickly stepped behind the camera and started recording.  “Hit it.”

With that, Lee quickly turned and typed Food Yes and clicked the translate button.

After hearing it Dirk, suddenly very excited, replied with a single familiar response and the word Yes appeared on the screen.

Lee smiled at Alison, but spoke to Chris and Frank.  “By asking that, she provided an option for a single word response, differentiating between what was asked and also eliminating it as a simple repeat.  That, gentlemen, is a bonafide translation!”

Oh my god!

Frank jumped up and suddenly turned to leave the room.  “Wait right here.”

“Where are you going?”

He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.  “To get some champagne.”  He looked past them to the dolphins.  “And someone get Dirk and Sally some food!”

12

Clay and Caesare walked into Admiral Langford’s office and silently closed the door behind them.  He motioned for them to sit as he held the phone to his ear with the other hand.  They sat relaxed, having been in the office many times.  Langford’s office was actually where most of their discussions took place, both formal and informal.  While officially a bureaucrat, Langford still tried to remain involved in many of the details of his department, particularly on the technical side.  He was adamant that any leader who did not or could not understand the fundamentals of what their teams did should not be leading those teams in the first place.  He insisted it made for better decision making and created a more efficiently run department and his department’s achievements were hard to argue with.

It had been two weeks since their trip to Emerson’s ship.  After three days of searching for the lost Triton rover with an older submersible they were forced to return to Washington and file a formal requisition to go back out and finish the job.  Judging from Langford’s expression, they knew what was coming.

Finishing the call, he hung up with a sigh.  “Well, the sub is out,” Langford said.

“They know that we can’t hope to find the Triton or replicate the problem without taking a sub down,” Clay replied.

Langford nodded.  “They know.  I made that abundantly clear.  It’s just too damn expensive.  With these democrats cutting our budgets, we just can’t justify spending a couple million dollars to steam out there and run some tests.”

“What about Emerson’s submersible?” Caesare asked.  “They still haven’t found it and that’s going to be one expensive piece of equipment to write off.  We could be looking for that at the same time.”

Langford shook his head.  “Let’s not give up on the Triton.”

Clay was not surprised.  It was not the first time they were held up because of funding.  Sooner or later, everything came down to money.  What bothered him the most was that in all likelihood the decision was based on a spreadsheet rather than a death certificate.  If the Alabama had been in the Mariana Trench when it had the error, it could have smashed into one of the trench walls and turned that submarine into a giant tomb.  Clearly, someone had decided that this was an isolated system malfunction.  Something he could not deny without more testing.  Of course, he could not confirm it without testing either.  Another shining example of naval bureaucracy.

“Well, if the Navy wants the Triton but we don’t have access to a sub,” Caesare started, “how exactly are we supposed to recover it?”

Langford smiled.  “Funny you should ask.”

***

The United States Geological Survey was created in 1879 when President Rutherford B. Hays signed the bill appropriating the designated funds.  Based in Reston, Virginia, the USGS had the task of providing detailed data on the planet’s myriad environments and ecosystems.  With a budget of just over one billion dollars, nearly 400 locations, and a network of over 10,000 scientists, technicians, and support staff, the scientific reach of the USGS was enormous.  This was also the reason why the department’s Director, Kathryn Lokke, routinely got very little sleep.  With a tumultuous rise to the head of the organization, and with the previous director being caught in a scandal of fraud and extramarital affairs, Lokke had her hands full trying to run things and repair the damage to their image.

The irony was that the USGS was one of the better run organizations in the public sector; something Lokke thought about often.  She could not help but take it personally, since she had spent the better part of her career at the USGS.  In fact, Lokke was not only one of the first female directors of the department, but arguably the most scientifically capable as well, when compared to her predecessors.  She had been a lead scientist for years and headed some of the organization’s most difficult projects, which was why she found the job of running it all the more frustrating.  She was not a bureaucrat and loathed having to play one, something else she thought of often.  Especially as she exited the room after her 10 a.m. conference call.

Lokke walked quickly back to her office on the top floor and almost made it past her assistant without being stopped.

“Ms. Lokke!” said Richele, as she put down the phone.  “Mr. Haines just called and said he needed to talk to you urgently.”

Lokke frowned.  “About what?”

“He didn’t say.  But he’s on his way up.  I thought perhaps you would like me to bump some other…perhaps more annoying meeting instead”.

Lokke could not keep from smiling, even after being stuck on the phone all morning.  Richele was obviously talking about Albert Petriono, the head of Energy and Minerals.  Someone everyone tried to avoid.  “Thanks Richele.  That would be great.”

She winked.  “Already done.”

Haines burst into the office two minutes later and quickly closed the door.

“We have a problem.”

Lokke was startled.  This was very unlike him.  She pushed her laptop away and gave him her full attention.  “What kind of problem?”

“Have you been told about the earthquake in the Antarctic?”

“Briefly.  This morning.”

Haines took a deep breath.  “It was near the Ronne.”

“Did we get another break off?” Lokke asked, thinking about the giant, island-sized piece of ice that had broken off the Ronne Ice Shelf a few years earlier.

“Well, for starters, it was no ice quake.”

Lokke’s expression became concerned.  “Go on.”

“We’ve got a couple researchers there in the Halley camp; got thrown out of bed in the middle of the night.  The next morning they went out to take a look.  They found a crack, a big crack.”

Lokke held her breath.  “How big?”

“Miles. “

Her next question was very deliberate.  “Where?”

Haines inhaled slowly.  “Beyond the shelf, on land.  About ten miles in.”

She stared at him for a long time, then finally leaned back in her chair.  “Jesus.”  Haines sat silently while it sank in.  Lokke looked at a large map on the wall of the Earth’s southern hemisphere.  “How bad is the slide?” she asked.

“Fourteen feet.”

“Oh my god!”  She shook her head in disbelief.  “Has this been verified?”

“Yes.  We had a plane fly down from McMurdo.  They ran the length and measured 43 miles, most of it on land.  The ground team verified the slide depth nearest the camp.  It looks pretty consistent from the air.  It was strong enough to set off all the seismic instruments on the continent.”

Lokke knew what that meant.  Even though the Antarctic was a rather small land mass, all of the earthquake sensors being triggered meant the shift was powerful, very powerful.  “Let’s get a large team and some equipment out there right away.  We need to get all the measurements and verify with a ground penetrating scan before we communicate this out.”

Haines nodded.

“In the meantime, I’ll start getting people together.”

13

Chris replaced the camcorder’s tape with a new one and handed the old tape to Alison, who applied a small label on its back displaying a tiny barcode.  She then passed it under an optical scanner which recorded the number and brought up a small field on the computer’s monitor to add notes.  She typed a short summary of the exercise they had just completed and hit enter, adding the entry to the database.

“Ready for the next one?” Chris asked.

“Let’s give them a break,” she said looking at Dirk and Sally.  She glanced down at her watch. “It’s almost feeding time and I’m sure we’ve got a-”

Food now.  Sally’s words came over the speakers.

Alison smiled.  She leaned over and typed Yes, food now and clicked the translate button.  She turned around and picked up the phone to call the aquarium’s feeding team.

Thank Alison, came the mechanical reply.

Alison suddenly froze.  She dropped the phone and turned around to look at the tank.  Both Chris and Lee had done the same.  After a long silence, they all turned toward each other.

“What did she say?” asked Alison.

Chris leaned past Lee and looked at the monitor screen.  “Did Sally just say ALISON?”

Lee scooted forward and studied the screen.  “Uh…she sure did.”  He raised one of his eyebrows.  “How the hell did she do that?”  Lee typed several words on his computer and hit the enter key.  Another window opened, displaying the transaction log files and hundreds of lines of cryptic text.  He identified the last line translated and looked at the attribute signature of the word Alison.  He then scrolled down examining the log details for all translations over the last two days.  “Aha!” he said triumphantly, but suddenly leaned back in his seat with another thought.  “Oh wow!”

“What is it?” Alison pressed.

He did not answer immediately.  “Wow.  That is really something else.”

“What already?!”

“Context.  IMIS translated for context.”  He almost seemed to be talking to himself.  He quickly snapped out of it and looked at Alison and Chris.  “You see, the design of IMIS’ artificial intelligence, part of what allows it to learn, is trying to identify context.  This is basically the relationship between multiple variables to achieve what it believes to be the best accuracy.”

Chris frowned.  “This is starting to sound Greek.”

“Look,” Lee said, starting to get excited.  “Let’s say IMIS is trying to figure out the word hello.  If it thought it identified the right dolphin sound for hello, but that sound was emitted when the dolphins were moving away, the context of that interaction would show that translation to be wrong.”

Alison nodded.  “Of course.”

“Obviously that’s an over simplified example.  What IMIS just did was apply that context on BOTH sides of the translation.  Look at this!”  He pointed to the translation logs on the screen.  “What Sally said was not Thank Alison. She actually said Thank girl.  But, IMIS not only identified and translated girl successfully, it also used its context algorithm to recognize that Alison is the only female among us; probably based on her computer account, since she has been typing some of the words to Dirk and Sally.  Therefore, IMIS recognized that the message was meant for the only girl and substituted Alison’s name.  Hell, it even capitalized her name.”

“Holy cow.”

“Holy cow is right,” Lee replied, “IMIS is even smarter than I thought.”  He looked at all the servers on the far wall with their hundreds of blinking lights continually churning through the data.  “No wonder it’s making such fast progress.”

The phone rang, interrupting them.  Alison quickly picked up the receiver.  “Ali here.”

“Hi Ali, it’s Frank.  Can you come up to my office please?”

“Uh, sure,” she said, nodding.  “Can it wait twenty minutes?  We’re right in the middle-”

“Actually it can’t,” he broke in.  “I need you up here right away.”

“Okaaay… I guess I’ll be right up.”

Chris gave a disappointed frown.  “What, he can’t wait twenty minutes?”

“Evidently not.”

“What’s up?”

“No idea.  He just said he wants to see me.”  She let the phone drop back into its cradle.  “Check on their lunch, will you?”

“Will do.”

With one last glance at the dolphins, she turned and headed for the stairs.  She was in a good mood.  They were making excellent progress with the project in the last couple of weeks, and as much as she knew Frank liked to grandstand, she was thankful that he agreed not to issue another press release after that initial translation.  The attention they got from the morning show alone overwhelmed them with everyone wanting to come see Dirk and Sally.  It was great for ticket sales, but with a host of people, including the mayor, all coming down for public appearances and photo ops, it slowed their work considerably.  Frank enjoyed the attention but the rest of the team was frustrated with the delays and hobnobbing.  Okay, that wasn’t totally true, she thought.  She was the one frustrated.  The other guys enjoyed it too.  She had often considered why she avoided attention but never came up with a concrete answer.  Maybe it was all the looks in school, the luck of getting her mother’s features and constantly being hit on.  Maybe it was her determination in academics and always being singled out by the teachers.  She had resigned herself to the fact that she would never really know what started it, but even if she did, would it change anything?  Probably not.  She would always be a bookworm at heart.

Alison reached the top of the stairs a little winded and realized that she really needed to get back to the gym.  She walked down the short hallway and gave a polite knock as she opened the door.

“You won’t believe what we just-” she began, as she stepped inside but her smile abruptly disappeared.  Inside was Frank and two men dressed in shirt and tie.  They all stood as she entered.

“Ah, here she is,” said Frank, coming around his desk.  “Alison, I’d like you to meet John Clay and Steve Caesare.  They’re with the-”

“Let me guess,” she feigned politeness.  “From the government.  You’re dressed too nice for the Army.  CIA?”

Clay and Caesare were moving toward her with hands extended but stopped abruptly.  “Uh, the Navy, actually.”

She crossed her arms in front of her.  “What a surprise.”

The men looked at Frank with a trace of confusion.  “Ali,” Frank started.  “These men came to talk to us about the project.”

Alison raised her eyebrows sarcastically.  “Wow, really?!”

“Uh, yes,” Clay said, apprehensively.  “We were just explaining to Dr. Dubois that we heard about your project and thought we might be able to help in the research with your dolphins.”

“The government is here to help.  And what kind of help would that be?  Teaching them to attach mines to enemy ships?”

Again, Clay looked at Frank with more confusion, who was now looking sternly at his project lead.

“No, no, nothing like that.  We may be able to help your progress with an opportunity to work hand-in-hand with your dolphins.”

Alison’s posture did not change.  She gave Frank a long stare. “What kind of opportunity?”

Caesare gave her his trademark smile.  “Recovering one of our small research submersibles in the Caribbean Sea.”

Alison looked at him, then back to Clay.  She was having none of it. “You can’t do that yourself?”

“Well, we could,” Clay said, ignoring the sarcasm.  “But we thought it might provide an opportunity for you and your team; a real world interaction that might further your translation efforts, and perhaps even-”

“The dolphins haven’t been out in the open ocean for years.  They’re not accustomed and we can’t exactly put a leash on them.  Besides, transporting them would be a major production.”

“We’re prepared to accommodate any requirements you have.”

“I don’t think so,” Alison replied.  “Besides, our translation capabilities are still much too-”

“Gentlemen,” Frank interrupted, with a raised, yet professional tone.  “Could you give us a moment please?”

Clay and Caesare nodded and turned toward the door.  They stepped politely around Alison and closed it quietly behind them.

Outside they crossed the hall and leaned against the white wall with hands in their pockets.

“I don’t think she likes you,” Caesare said.

Clay laughed.  “She certainly seems to have some strong feelings about the military.”

“Kinda cute though,” said Caesare.  He took a few steps and studied a framed picture.  It was an old black and white photograph of the aquarium’s groundbreaking ceremony.  He guessed the number of people in the small crowd to be about eighty, dressed in suits and gowns, forming a half arc around a few people in the middle with one of them holding a shiny shovel.  The tiny plaque below the picture read 1925.  “This place has been around a long time.”

Clay nodded, coming over to see the picture.  “I’ve been here before,” he said.  “I was a boy, maybe seven or eight.  My dad brought me when I was visiting him in Miami.”  He leaned in for a closer look at the picture.  “It was a lot smaller then.”  Clay stared silently at the picture.  He still remembered that trip clearly.  It was the same weekend that his father told him of his parent’s pending divorce.

Caesare looked back at the door.  A small plate in the middle read Dr. Frank Dubois, Director.  “So what do we do if they say no?”

Clay shrugged.  “Break out our snorkel and fins, I guess.”

Frank stepped forward and sat on the edge of his large oak desk.  His face appeared tired.  He hunched his shoulders for a moment and then dropped them with a sigh.  He looked up at Alison.

“I think we should do this.”

“What?” she scoffed.  “You’re not buying this are you?  This is the Navy, Frank!  They’re not here to help us.  They’re here to find out how they can leverage the technology!”

“Look, Ali.  I know how you feel about these guys and I know what happened before-”

“And you think it’s different now?  I guarantee you they’re outside right now talking about how they can turn this into a military advantage.  All they want-”

“Who do you think is funding this, Alison?” Frank suddenly blurted, with a wave around the room.  “Santa Claus?!  It doesn’t matter whether it’s NASA, the Navy, or the goddamn IRS!  Government money is the only reason we’re here!  Do you have any idea how hard it is to raise this money?”  He took a deep breath and dropped his tone.  “Look, we’re losing money. You know that.  The ticket sales are still declining, even with the surge we got after that press release.  The plain fact is that we need more time.  We have so much more to do, but without our grants, we’ll be lucky to keep the aquarium open until the end of the year.”

Alison unfolded her arms and frowned.  He was right.  Without the money, all of this would come to an abrupt end sooner or later.

“Listen,” Frank went on.  “I know how you feel about these guys, I do.  I know what happened.”  He watched Alison tense up, knew he touched a soft spot, but he had to.  He had always known that someday, it would eventually come down to this.  “We have to play the game.  At least for now.  We have no choice.  We have a big lead in this field, but if we get closed down, all of our information will be made available to everyone.  And they’ll be where we are in a matter of months.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.  “You think they would cut us off just like that?”  He made no effort to answer.  He didn’t have to.  Alison could not believe that she’d even uttered the words.

She walked slowly to the window and stared out at the palm trees jutting into the air from the next street like a row of towers.  It was amazing how mad she still was.  It was almost ten years ago and she still hated to think about it.  Her first serious research project, her first meaningful project was in Costa Rica.  It was the world’s first serious attempt to map and document the complete breeding and migration patterns of sea turtles.  They had spent three years tagging, tracking, and caring for thousands of turtles while sleeping in tents with virtually no money.  And in the end, they had accomplished something that no other ocean biology team had been able to do.  God, they were so idealistic.  At the time, they considered the Navy, and the US government, for that matter, a godsend.  They provided the equipment, the computers, and the tracking devices.  Without their grants, Alison’s team would not have been able to track the reptiles off the damn beach, let alone across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

They knew beyond a doubt that if the program was extended, it would allow them to study not just the routes, but eventually their turtle’s entire life span from birth to death.   They were finishing their papers, some, including Alison, were finishing their doctorates when the hammer fell.  In one coordinated effort, the Navy confiscated the majority of their work.  Anything that was deemed in the interest of national security was permanently moved to government research teams in various fields.  She and the team were stunned, unable to imagine how on earth a population of turtles qualified as a security threat.  It never made any sense and they were all sure it was just some monumental misunderstanding.  Through a friend, she had found out that the Navy had another agenda from the start.  Their intention was to learn how they could use the turtles affixed with small, but powerful, transmitters to obstruct communications to and from enemy vessels, based on proximity of an agent turtle.  Agent turtle.  It still sounded as absurd today as it did then.  Absurd or not, it was a shock to find out that the Navy’s support was a sham from the beginning.  They never cared about the biology.  They simply wanted to deem whether it had a viable military application.

Of course, it didn’t.  The migration routes were helpful, but the logistical complications around the geographic management, the speed of migration, and the power needed to adequately block a signal, were simply insurmountable.  In the end, the Navy dropped the idea and after two full years of legal arguments.  They finally relented and made the whole of the data available to the scientific community.  But by then, the idea of a longer, more comprehensive study was too difficult to fund and was as good as dead.  The results were well received eventually, but a complete behavioral understanding from birth to death would have blown the doors off anything that was known about the species.  By the time they could have picked up the pieces, the excitement was gone and most of the researchers had found other projects.  It was less than a year after giving up that she met Frank, and his crazy idea about the science of language translation.

She turned from the window and stared at him.

He shrugged.  “Besides, these guys could just be genuinely interested in helping.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  “The Navy has money and resources that we could only dream about.  Why on earth would they come to us?  I mean, really.  How hard could it be for them to find a little submarine?”

“Fine.”  With a look of dejection, she unfolded her arms and walked toward the door.  Before opening it, she turned back to Frank.  “Do you realize, Frank, that we never sent out another press release when we made contact?”

He shrugged.  “I know.  Remember we were going to schedule another press release when we were ready to show the translation in action?”

She shook her head.  “That’s not what I mean.  If we haven’t formally announced the translation yet, how did the Navy know about it?”

***

Clay and Caesare followed Alison down the hall toward the stairs.  The conversation in Dubois’ office appeared to be a significant one since Alison emerged with slightly less disdain for them.  At Dubois’ request, she offered to show them their lab and a demonstration of the technology used.

Silently, as they walked behind her, Clay acknowledged that Caesare was right.  She was cute.  She was also extremely intelligent and clearly not someone to be trifled with.  At least not if you worked for the government.  He didn’t know what it was that had soured her, but he’d seen enough firsthand to feel sympathetic.

At the bottom of the stairs, they followed Alison through the new wing.  Clay guessed it had doubled the size of the aquarium since his boyhood trip.  The structural design was more modern, but was cleverly decorated to match the original building.  This made the extension almost indiscernible to the casual visitor.  They passed a horde of children all peering and waving at the dolphins through the enormous glass tank.  The hall stopped abruptly at a large secured door where they found the tank continued on the other side, forming one of the walls of their lab.  As they entered, Clay noticed another smaller set of stairs and realized that Alison had taken them along the scenic route.  Maybe she didn’t entirely hate them.

The lab was much larger than he had expected, with the far wall almost ten feet tall and largely covered with racks of servers.  In the center of the room were three tables and four large desks, along with two young men who appeared to be in the middle of eating lunch.

Chris and Lee both turned when the door slammed shut.  They quickly wiped their mouths as Alison approached with the two visitors.

“Guys,” she said, crossing the room.  “These gentlemen are from the Navy.  They’ve come to learn about our project.”

Chris and Lee suddenly stiffened.

“This is Chris Ramirez, another of our lead researchers, and Lee Kenwood, our expert computer engineer.  I’m sorry,” Alison said.  “Your names again?”

“John Clay,” he answered, stepping forward and shaking Chris’ hand, then Lee’s.  “This is my associate, Steve Caesare.”

“Pleased to meet you,” added Caesare, with a shake to each.

“Ms. Shaw was nice enough to give us a walk through the aquarium.  A very nice place you have here.”

Lee relaxed, however, Clay noticed that Chris seemed to maintain a defensive composure similar to Alison’s.

“Frank asked that we give them a demonstration,” Alison said.

Chris said nothing but Lee eagerly sat down and brought the IMIS system back up on screen.

“Frank and I started the program six years ago,” she started.  “It wasn’t long before we realized that we were going to need a lot more money and help.  Chris and I worked together on a project in Central America, so we brought him on about a year later after Frank and I got our first grant.”  Alison came around the other side of Lee’s desk and looked over his shoulder while he got things ready.  “We brought Lee on after the second one.  He’s an ex-IBM’er.”  She motioned to the wall of computers.  “They donated the servers and helped design the translation software and algorithm, called IMIS.  It’s the system that is actually translating our dolphin-ese.”

Caesare raised an eyebrow. “Dolphin-ese?”

She shrugged.  “That’s what we call it.  Who knows what the language will actually be called.  When it’s-”

“Excuse me,” Clay interrupted.  “I was under the impression that the translation was just beginning.  Are you saying that you have a vocabulary?”

Alison smiled.  “Well, vocabulary may be a bit of a stretch.”

Clay was genuinely surprised.  After a moment, he replied.  “So…exactly how far along are you?”

Alison was still grinning when she nodded to Lee.  “Let’s show ‘em.”

Lee quickly typed Hello in the translate window.

Clay and Caesare, not knowing what to expect, turned toward the large tank when they heard the sounds emanate from the underwater speaker.  They watched as the two dolphins, playing for the children on the other side, suddenly stopped and swam over toward them.  Clay noted an odd feeling at seeing the dolphin’s eyes actually seem to focus directly at them from the other side of the glass.

One of the dolphins repeated the sound and they watched the reply appear on the screen.

“Wow.”  Clay exclaimed.  He looked at Caesare who also had his eyebrows raised.  “That is amazing.”

The other three seemed almost giddy.  Alison leaned in closer to Lee’s shoulder, her eyes fixed on the monitor.  “Ask them how they are.”

Lee quickly typed out How you today? and clicked his mouse.

After hearing the sounds, Dirk quickly replied.  Good.  How you.

Lee responded.  Good.  Thank.

Alison straightened and looked at Clay.  “Lee is working on adding voice recognition so we won’t even have to type.  That may take a while.”

Clay and Caesare stood motionless.  Their eyes wide open and mouths gaping.  They were utterly stunned.

It took several seconds for Clay to recover.  “What…what else can they-“

Dirk interrupted from the other side of the glass.  How long food.

Alison smiled again.  “They’re always hungry.”  She leaned in and typed the reply herself.  Food soon.

Clay looked at Caesare who was still speechless.  “Wow,” he said, looking back at the dolphins.

Lee swung his chair around and beamed at them both.  “Gentlemen, meet Dirk and Sally.”

Who them, asked Sally.

Lee offered the chair to Alison, who promptly sat down and replied.  Friends.  They want help.

Even in his dazed state, Clay suspected Alison wasn’t thrilled about calling them friends.

Dirk and Sally suddenly burst into movement, swimming in tight circles, displaying what Clay assumed to be excitement.

Yes.  Like help, Sally responded.  Dirk hungry.

Food soon, Alison typed back.

Caesare could not take his eyes off Dirk and Sally.  “This is unbelievable.”

Lee gave a broad smile.  “You should see them do tricks now!”

14

Alison stood on the mid-deck looking down at the large tank constructed on the stern of the Pathfinder.  Two of the ship’s cranes had been disassembled to create enough space to house the 10,000 gallon salt water tank, which left only a quarter of the space on the stern’s open platform.  On the third remaining crane hung a heavy sling made of fabric used to hoist Dirk and Sally in and out.  Having them both confined to such a tiny space, with precious little room for movement during the five hour trip, made Alison extremely anxious.  The fact that it did not have any windows didn’t help matters.  Nevertheless, both dolphins seemed relatively calm as their water gently sloshed back and forth with the rise and fall of the ocean swells.

Luckily, the weather provided them an ideal window with calm seas and blue skies, conditions not uncommon during the Caribbean’s winter months.  Alison scanned the horizon behind them and seeing no sign of shore, looked at her watch.  She would be happy when this whole charade was over.  She watched some of the others mill around the ship, enjoying the fresh air and smell of the open sea.  Almost two dozen passengers were reporters or journalists invited along for the Navy’s photo op.  As far as Alison was concerned, they needed all the positive press they could get.  One of the reporters below was examining the tank.  He stood back and took what seemed like dozens of pictures which made Alison wonder if he was paid by the picture.  She also could not help but wonder whether he knew that his hat was on backwards.

Alison tried to shake herself out of her slump.  She did not want to be here, but it was not going to do any good to piss and moan about it the whole time.  She took a deep breath and tried to appreciate the view.  No one else seemed worse for the wear.

Clay approached from behind.  “Are you alright?”

She turned abruptly.  “Yes, yes. I’m fine.  Thank you.”

“Are you feeling seasick at all?  If so, we can give you something for it if we catch it early enough.”

She smirked at the comment but forced herself to turn it into a polite grin.  “Sea sickness makes for a short career as a marine biologist.”

He nodded.  “Of course.  Good point.”  He motioned back toward the bridge.  “We’ll be there soon.  Mr. Kenwood is almost done setting things up.”

She followed Clay back toward the front and climbed the third flight of stairs.  She mumbled a thank you as he held the door open to the bridge.  Stepping into the air conditioning, she was instantly reminded how warm it was outside.

On the far side of the small room sat Lee adjusting his equipment on a small table the crew had set up for them.  Beneath were two large portable computer servers surrounded by a tangle of cables and wires.  On top of the table sat Lee’s keyboard, monitor, mouse and a couple other pieces of equipment she did not recognize.  Chris stood behind him, peering out the window at the outline of Bimini Island, and trying to remain calm as a few reporters tried to squeeze by and snap pictures of Lee and his hardware.

“Are we ready?” Alison asked Lee.

“Almost,” he replied.  “I’m just running some test commands to make sure the system is ready.”

“So what kind of a vocabulary will we have?”

He shrugged as he continued typing.  “Everything that IMIS had successfully translated until we left.  We obviously don’t have the power to translate anything new, but,” he motioned to the two servers underneath, “these babies are at least strong enough to handle the words we already have.  Next, I’ll run some test translations without piping it through the speakers and we should be all set.”

***

The ship’s engines finally began to wind down as they neared their destination, and Captain Emerson returned to the bridge to verify all was well at the helm.  After speaking with his first officer, he turned to Alison and her team.

“Ms. Shaw, is there anything else you need? We should be stopping in just a few minutes.”

“No, I think we have everything we need.  Thank you.”

“My pleasure.  As soon as we turn off the engines, we will begin readying the sling to get your friends out of the tank.  I’m sure they are looking forward to a little elbow room, so to speak.”

“Thank you,” she replied.  “Chris and I will come down to assist.”

“Very well.”  With that, the captain nodded at the others and turned to speak quietly with Clay.

As the ship continued to slow, Alison and Chris looked at each other nervously.  They shared a worry that they had not spoken to anyone about, except Frank, before leaving.  Dirk and Sally were as much a part of the aquarium as they were, and Alison felt a deep love for the animals.  But they were still in captivity, which means they were captives to the aquarium.  Alison and Chris were worried, terrified in fact, that even though the dolphins demonstrated a strong connection with them too, there was no guarantee that once back in the ocean they would not simply make off for open waters.  It had taken almost two weeks to arrange their leave from the aquarium and the construction of the tanks to transport them in, not to mention dozens of other details.  During that time, their relationship with Dirk and Sally had gotten even stronger.  With the startling progress that IMIS provided them, the dolphins seemed as excited to speak to the team as they were to them.  However, they were still being kept from their natural habitat, from their home.  Once out of the tank and back into open water, Alison was scared to death that she would never see them again.

The engines finally fell silent and the ship slowly coasted to a stop.  A few minutes later, the giant anchor was released and it punched through the water with an enormous splash.  Alison and Chris joined the crew members on the rear platform to ready the sling.  They slowly rotated the mechanical arm over the tank and lowered it into the water.  Although dangerous for such a small tank, Alison insisted on climbing inside and keeping a hand on Sally as the large fabric was slipped around her.  Sally showed no sign of resistance.  She quickly wiggled herself into place so the sling could be fastened securely.  The reporters filled the deck above the tank and photographed the entire process.

Alison could feel the lump in her throat as she nervously watched the crew swing Sally across the deck and lowered her into the warm ocean water.  They did the same for Dirk and had them both in the water in less than five minutes.  Alison stood on the back of the ship in clear view and watched the two dolphins swim around excitedly.  When they moved around the side of the ship, Alison bolted up the three flights of stairs back to the bridge with Chris hot on her heels.  She sprinted through the door and over to Lee.

“Okay, let’s say something!”

Lee nodded and pressed a button to engage the underwater microphone and speakers.  He quickly typed out Hello and hit the enter key.

There was a long silence as they waited for a reply.  Alison’s eyes slowly widened with concern and she laid her hand on Lee’s shoulder.  They continued to wait.

“Should we try it aga-” Alison asked, but was interrupted by Sally.

Hello Alison.

Lee gave her the keyboard and she typed.  Hello Sally.  Are you ready to help?

Yes we like help, came the dolphin’s reply.

Alison looked at Chris.  They both breathed a sigh of relief.

Where you Alison?

Alison typed back.  I am on the boat.  An error message flashed on the screen that said Unable to translate.  She looked at Lee.  “How do I bring up the list of vocabulary words?”

Lee pressed a few keystrokes and the list appeared, displaying all of the identified words to date.

Alison typed her reply again.  I am on the metal.

Big metal, replied Sally.

Alison smiled.  Yes, the metal is big.  She looked up at Clay who had just joined them.  “Are we about ready?”

He nodded.  “Ready when you are.”

“Okay.  Let me make sure they’re okay being out here.”

Alison typed again.  Are you and Dirk afraid?

No afraid, Sally said.  Dirk hungry.

Alison laughed out loud.  “That boy is always hungry.”  She typed back playfully. Dirk is always hungry.

Sally made a strange sound that the computer could not translate.

Alison suddenly looked at Chris.  “Did she just laugh?”

He smiled excitedly.

Alison relaxed for a moment and straightened up.  “Okay. Mr. Clay, what exactly are we looking for here?”

“A small white submersible, roughly three feet cubed in size.”  He handed her a picture of the Triton.  “We estimate that it’s somewhere within a three mile radius.”

She looked at the picture.  “Jeez, how are we going to describe this?”

Lee brought up the vocabulary list again.

Alison studied the list and then began typing.  Ready Sally?  Ready Dirk?

Ready, Sally responded.

Ready, Dirk followed.

It looks like a metal bubble, she typed.  Please look and come back.

We look, answered Sally.

The team listened for anything more, but the speakers fell silent.  “They must be off.”

Alison turned to Clay again.  “Just to remind you, Mr. Clay, I don’t know how far or deep they will be able to search.  Dolphins don’t go much deeper than 150 to 200 feet, so even if they can find it with their echolocation, they may only be able to point us to it.”

“I understand,” Clay replied.  “We’re not sure how deep it ended up since the submersible’s buoyancy tanks were partially filled.  There are also a number of reefs around here, so we may get lucky.”  He ended with a friendly smile.  “And call me John.”

15

Caesare walked into Will Borger’s lab and found him at his desk going over the map Caesare had seen last time he was there.  Borger looked up and nodded.  “Hi, Steve.”

“Hey. Will.  Thanks for making time for me,” Caesare replied.  He walked over and handed a small storage drive to Borger.

“No problem.”  Borger gave the drive a quick once over and turned to his computer to insert it.  “Where’s Clay?” he asked, while typing.

“He’s out playing with dolphins.”

Borger smiled.  “I’m not even going to ask.”  A window opened on his screen showing the contents of the drive.  “Okay, so what do we have here?”

“This is the video file our friend Tay sent over from the Pathfinder.  It’s a recording the Triton submersible made during the dive…before we lost it for them.  It’s not very long, but Clay and I thought we should show it to you in case there was anything helpful on it.  We’re actually hoping it might give some indication of which direction it headed after after we lost contact.”

“Okay.”  Borger started the video in half speed.  He reached behind himself for another can of Jolt cola without looking away.  He appeared to be constructing a small tower of empty Jolt cans on his shelf.  Judging from the number of cans, Caesare wondered if Borger was a shareholder.

Borger popped the can open and watched as the Triton descended through the deep blue water.  There was no sound but the video quality was crystal clear.  At just over three minutes in, the first signs of interference appeared, with just a few tiny white dots that were barely noticeable.  As the timeline increased, the dots became larger and more frequent, but were still nothing more than a minor distraction.

Suddenly, the interference became noticeably worse and Borger leaned forward.  He stopped the video and rewound.  He played the same several seconds over and over repeatedly, stopping on a specific frame.

“What is this?” he asked, mostly to himself.

Caesare leaned in.  “What?”

Borger went back and forth between the series of frames.  He pointed to the screen in the upper right hand corner.  “This right here.”

Caesare looked closer.  A subtle but lightly colored shape appeared out of the blue. As each frame was played, the shape sharpened ever so slightly and began to resemble a line with a gentle curve.  “Hmm… a reflection of light from the sub’s interior light, maybe as it hits the front Plexiglas?”

“Maybe,” Borger said, pursing his lips.  He continued watching the frames again and again.  The shape grew more and more distinct until the interference finally became so bad that it overwhelmed the rest of the picture.  He backed the frames up again.  “I don’t think it’s a reflection.”  He pointed to a small speck on the screen.  “Ocean water is loaded with small pieces of debris and organic material.  Look closely here…we can see a small piece of it moving past the window in this upward direction.  And here it passes over the white shape.  If the shape were a reflection, this small speck would have disappeared in the glare.”

Caesare nodded.  “Right.”

“It’s possible that it could be some other video anomaly, but I doubt it.”  He played the video forward again.  “Unfortunately, right here the interference gets so strong that we lose it.”

Caesare straightened himself up.  “So we’ll never know.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Borger replied, closing the window on the computer.  He opened a program and typed a number of commands too fast for Caesare to follow.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Borger said, as he now moved in and out of windows and programs.  “Is that we may be able to remove some of that interference.”

“How do we do that?”  Caesare pulled up a chair and sat down.

“If we can identify the rate and degree of interference, the computer may be able to calculate for it and remove the interference from the screen.  This is a technique that astronomers use with ground based telescopes called ‘adaptive optics’.  The earth’s atmosphere distorts the light passing through it, so scientists have come up with a way to use a laser to measure this distortion and allow the computer to correct for that distortion.  The results are images almost as clear as the Hubble telescope produces, orbiting far outside of our atmosphere.”

“Of course, we don’t have a laser to measure with.”  Caesare pointed out.

“That’s true,” replied Borger.  “But we have the next best thing.”

“Which is what?”

Borger smiled.  “Mathematics.”

***

Clay leaned against the back wall of the bridge and waited with Alison and her team to hear back from Sally or Dirk.  Lee Kenwood sat in front of the computer and looked through some of the system’s logs.  He looked up at Clay.

“You know, Mr. Clay.  I mean John.  I can record this session if you like.”

Alison spoke before Clay could answer.  “I’m sure they’ve been recording this from the moment we started.”

Clay looked at Alison and then at Lee with a shrug.  “She’s right.”

Lee smiled nervously.  “Ah.”

“I’m going to get some air.” said Alison, as she opened an outside door not far from where they were standing.  Chris followed her out.

Alison grabbed the rail to steady herself and looked over the side of the ship into the blue water.  “I swear, these guys are all the same.”

Chris frowned, looking uncertain.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure if this guy fits the mold that we’ve come to hate.”  He looked at her, trying to get her to grin.

She was not biting.  “Didn’t you hear what he just said?  He admitted to recording this whole thing without us even knowing.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t deny it.  Did he?”  Chris pointed out.  “He could have just kept quiet and said ‘sure Lee. That would be great if you could record it for us’.  I mean, Christ Ali, this is the military.  They pretty much record everything!”

She shook her head.  “I don’t trust him.”

Chris dropped his head.  “Ali, you don’t trust anyone.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.  “That’s not true!”

“Oh yes.  It is true and you know it!  Look, we’ve been friends a long time, but admit it, you keep your cards close to the vest on pretty much everything.”

Alison squinted at Chris with a look of indignation.  “Not everything!”

“Ali, you’re great,” he said.  “But you’ve got to let some of this stuff go.  I don’t like the military either, and you know what, maybe they end up screwing us again, somehow.  But I don’t want to go through life being pissed off all the time.”  Chris looked back out on the water.  “Look, I don’t know this guy Clay.  But, it seems like he genuinely appreciates our help with this.  Okay, are they getting some PR out of it with the press? Sure, but who cares?  They can’t get some attention without us getting it too.”

Alison stared at him for a long time and finally exhaled.  “Fine.  I’ll give him a chance.”

“That a girl,” Chris said.  He put his arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze.  “Now, let’s enjoy the view and try not to think about the fact that he’s probably going through your purse right now.”

Inside, Lee looked up from his monitor again at Clay.  He was leaning against the wall to steady himself against the rolling of the ship, and watching the crew members at the helm.

“So, John.  What is it exactly that you do for the Navy, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Clay raised his eyebrows.  “Not at all.  I work for a department in the Navy called Special Investigations.”

“That isn’t one of those ‘I’d have to kill you’ type of groups, is it?”

Clay laughed.  “No.  Our investigations are unique issues, usually outside of normal naval operations.”

“What kind of things do you investigate?”  Lee was curious.

“Most of it is classified, but it typically has to do with system malfunctions or communication problems.  An example might be two systems using overlapping frequencies and causing problems.  Pretty boring stuff.”

Lee smiled.  “That sounds about as boring at a cocktail party as what I do.”

Clay laughed again.  “Well, if we run into each other at a party, I’ll listen to your stories if you listen to mine.”

“You’re on,” Lee said, laughing along.  “Well, for what it’s worth, it nice to be around another tech head for a change.  I think I bore the team a lot with my geek speak.”

“That’s understandable,” he nodded.  “It’s a hell of a project you’re working on.”

“That, it is,” Lee agreed.  “Things have gotten really exciting since the translations started.  We didn’t expect things to happen so quickly, but we’re certainly happy about it.  We were afraid it would be just the opposite, especially Alison.”

Clay nodded and looked out the window at Chris and Alison talking to each other.

“Listen,” Lee continued.  “About Alison, she’s a great girl.  She’s just very protective over this whole thing, especially Dirk and Sally.  She had a bad experience with the Navy in the past, and kinda got screwed career-wise, so she’s not too excited to go down that route again.”

“I can understand that.”

“She’s smart as a whip too,” Lee added, with a wink.  “So be careful.”

Clay smiled.  “I’ll watch myself.”

Captain Emerson approached and looked at Clay.  “We’re starting to see some chop.”  He then looked down at Lee.  “Any idea, son, on how long we might be waiting here?”

“No, sir,” Lee replied.  “That would probably be a question for Ali and Chris.”

Alison checked her watch and looked at Chris.  “They are coming back, right?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” he said, squinting.

The door opened behind them and they both turned around to see Emerson and Clay step outside.  Emerson glanced at the water again and approached Alison.  “Ma’am, any word from your dolphins?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, it looks as though we’re seeing some chop building.  If the swells increase too much, we won’t be able to stay here.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “You mean leave?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“We can’t leave without them!”

“Ma’am, I understand your dilemma, but if things get too rough, I have no choice but to weigh anchor.  I cannot risk the safety of the other passengers.”

“How much longer do we have?” she asked.

“It’s hard to say.  If conditions continue as they are, I would estimate we have one, maybe two hours.”

Alison was clearly starting to worry.  She nodded to the captain and turned back to the water looking for signs of Dirk and Sally.

As they stepped back into the bridge, Clay gave Emerson a curious look.  “Have you noticed anything strange about the weather?”

“What do you mean?”  Emerson asked, peering back outside.

“Well, the current is getting rougher, but there is no wind and not a cloud in the sky.”

16

Sitting on twenty-nine acres of land and housing over seventeen miles of corridor, the Pentagon was one of the world’s largest and most efficient office buildings.  On the bottom floor, tucked away in a tiny lab, Will Borger sat toiling over a program to try to remove some of the static from the Triton’s video.  It started with a long call with one of the programmers at U.C. Berkeley who spent an hour sending over computer code and walking Borger through the logistics, including the mathematical algorithms necessary.  Since Borger was not looking for planets he had to rewrite several large sections of the program.

Behind him, Caesare walked back in with an extra-large pizza and two six packs of Jolt; his payment for commandeering the afternoon of the smartest guy in the building.  Borger had been typing nonstop from the time Caesare left.  Upon returning, Caesare was beginning to worry that this might take even longer, in which case he was on the hook for dinner as well.

“How are we looking?” Caesare asked, sitting back down next to him.

Borger took a break and ran carefully through the syntax of the text he had just added.  “Had a couple of bugs I’ve been trying to work out.  I think we may have it.”  He switched to another window and typed a command to compile all the pieces again.  “Good.  No errors this time.”  He typed one last command and slapped the enter key.  “Let’s give it a whirl.”

Borger turned around and popped open the top of the pizza box.  He grabbed a big piece and a napkin then turned back to the monitor.  The screen filled with the video footage and advanced the frames again, in slow motion.  Caesare bit into his own slice and leaned back watching.

The frames advanced quickly until the computer reached the point in which the first dots of interference became visible in the video.  Suddenly, the video slowed considerably and the computer could be seen scanning the frozen picture pixel by pixel, and eliminating the extra dots before moving to the next.  The two men watched silently as each picture became clearer and clearer.  By the time the program finished, both Borger and Caesare were leaning forward trying to understand what they were looking at in the final frame.  The Triton had changed direction, as the object on the screen was no longer visible in the corner.  It was now stretching across most of the window.

“What in the world is that?”

Borger shook his head.  “No idea.  It looks like…an arc of some kind.”

“Is that,” Caesare asked, getting even closer, “on the bottom?”

“I think so.  See some of this darker material around the outsides?  That’s coral.”  He thought a moment.  “This reminds me of the bundles of fiber optic cable that the telecommunications companies lay underwater, but this is much bigger.”

Caesare frowned.  “It’s not cable.  The ocean is not that deep here, but even at that depth, we should not be able to see it.  There’s not enough light that far down.  And there is no way the Triton’s lights are strong enough.”

“True,” Borger agreed.  “But that means that whatever it is, it’s emitting its own light.”

“This is bizarre.  Can we determine how big it is?”

“We can do better than that.”  He began typing again.  “If we invert the color…” the object suddenly turned black while the rest of the screen inverted to white.  “…and we tell the computer to zoom out…we can have it use the current dimension to estimate what the overall shape is.”  He hit the return key again and watched the object shrink in size.  Then, the computer began to add in pieces to complete what it calculated the shape to be.  When it finished they were both shocked.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

Borger nodded.  “It looks like…a giant ring.”

***

Lee sat at his small table and tried repeatedly to summon the dolphins.  Every few minutes he typed Hello Dirk, Hello Sally and waited.  No reply came.  Alison stumbled in and grabbed for the wall behind him.

“Anything?”

Lee shook his head dejectedly.  One of the small devices on the table abruptly slid with the pitch of the ship and he quickly grabbed it before it fell off.

Alison turned around and looked at Chris, who shared her worried expression.  “We may have lost them,” he offered gently.

Alison shook her head.  “No.”  She looked down at Lee again who took the hint and typed another message to them.

Clay stepped into the room from the other side of the bridge.  He nodded to Captain Emerson.  “All of the passengers are in the lounge.  It’s a little tight but they should be fine, although several have gotten sick.  They’re sitting close to the door.”

Emerson nodded and they both looked over at Alison and her team.  They crossed the rest of the room before Emerson spoke.  “I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

Alison held on, bracing herself against the wall.  “Just ten more minutes.  Please!  We can’t leave without them.”

“Young lady, we can’t wait any longer.  If things get worse, we’re going to be in some serious trouble.  We have to leave!”

“Please!” she begged.  “You don’t know what losing them would do to us!”

Clay leaned slightly toward Emerson.  “It will take us at least five minutes to get the anchor up.”

Emerson stared at him, then at Alison.  He exhaled and looked over this shoulder.  “Officer Harris.”

The first officer quickly turned around.  “Yes, sir!”

“Let’s get the anchor up.”

“Yes, sir.”  He turned back to his console and picked up a phone.

A grim Emerson turned back to Alison.  “It’s going to take five or six minutes to raise that anchor.  You have until then.  But when it’s up, we’re leaving!  Understood?”

Alison gave a meek nod.  “Thank you.”

In the bow of the ship, a giant motor slowly began turning and reeling in the enormous anchor chain.  The ship was beginning to pitch wildly as huge swells rolled in under the Pathfinder.  With each swell, the bow shot high into the air and crashed down on the other side.  The dolphin tank on the stern had lost almost of third of its water to the violent up and down movements of the ship.

In the lounge, purses and camera bags fell off the shelves and tumbled across the floor.  Everyone tried to find something to hold onto and a few became frightened when they lost their hold and fell on top of the person next to them.

Suddenly, the ascending anchor chain stopped with a loud clang.

Two crewmen below deck examined the anchor windlass and tried the motor again.  Nothing moved.  They tried again with more power.  This time the motor remained frozen and started releasing a small cloud of gray smoke.  The two men quickly adjusted the controls and reversed the direction trying to unwind the chain again; still nothing.  The massive anchor was clearly wedged on the bottom.

With phone in hand, First Officer Harris looked at the captain.  Emerson, like everyone aboard heard the loud noise and felt the sudden jolt of the ship.  “The anchor windlass is jammed.”

Emerson’s eyes widened.  “Well, get it cleared!”

“We can’t sir!  We’ve tried.”

Emerson and everyone else in the bridge were struggling to maintain a solid hold on something.  He looked out the window again.  The skies were still clear, but the ocean was continuing to worsen, and quickly.  He looked at Clay, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

“Cut it!” he told Harris.

“Aye sir,” the first officer replied.

Below deck, one of the two crewmen dropped a dark mask over his face and fired up a large torch.  He looped one arm over the large notched wheel.  The second stood behind him and tried to provide support.  The torch flame touched one of the huge chain links and slowly began cutting the thick metal.

In the bridge, the communication officer picked up another handset.  He listened for a moment, then turned to Clay.

“Mr. Clay, you have a ship to shore call.”

Clay stumbled forward, reaching for the end of the bridge’s massive console.  “Who the hell is it?”

The young man spoke into the phone and listened.  “Caller is a Steve Caesare.”

“For Christ sake,” Clay growled.  “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

He relayed the message, listened for a moment, and looked back at Clay.  “He says it’s urgent.”

Clay snatched the phone and almost yelled into the mouthpiece.  “Not a good time, Steve!”

“Are you okay?” asked Caesare.

“Yeah.  Got our hands full.  Make it fast.”

Caesare’s tone was serious.  “John, listen.  We found something on the video from Triton.”

“Go.”

“There is something big on the ocean floor,” Caesare said.  “Something really big.”

Clay looked at Emerson while he listened.  “What is it?”

“We don’t know.  It looks like a giant ring.  Borger puts it at about twenty-five kilometers across.”

Clay’s eyes widened.  “Did you say two five?”

“Yes, two five kilometers across,” Caesare confirmed.

“Good god!”

“And you’re sitting right on top of it.  You need to get out of there!”

“We’re working on that.”  Clay tossed the handset back to the communication officer and turned to Emerson.  “We need to leave right now!”

Two decks down, the sailors stumbled back and forth trying to keep the torch focused on the chain.  The bow rose up again and both grasped at the enormous windlass wheel to keep their footing.  Tiny pieces of steel fell to the floor as the white hot torch slowly ate its way through the section of metal.  Suddenly the ship rolled to port.  Both the crewmen fell and tumbled into the metal wall, smashing the head of the torch and extinguishing the flame.

Officer Harris turned to Emerson again.  “Sir, we lost the torch.”

Emerson stared at him, thinking.  “How far are we through that chain?”

Harris was not sure what the captain meant but then realized.  “Far enough!”

“Do it!”

Harris turned to the other men on the bridge.  “Engines up, gentlemen!”

“They’re here!” Lee interrupted.  “Dirk and Sally are back!”

Alison lunged to his table and checked the screen.  She immediately turned back to Emerson.  “Wait!  Wait!”

Emerson gave her a hard look and held up his index finger.  “One minute!”

Alison typed as quickly as she could.  “Sally are you and Dirk okay?”

Yes, answered Sally.

We have trouble.  We have to leave.  Follow us!  Alison clicked the Translate button and looked around the bridge.  Everyone was holding on to a piece of the room and watching her.

An error message appeared on the screen.  “Unable to Translate.”

“Oh, god,” she groaned.

Lee looked over her shoulder.  “Take out the exclamation mark.”

Alison typed it again.

After a long wait, both dolphins finally responded with Okay.

“Go!” shouted Alison to the crew.

The Pathfinder’s giant engines roared to life and the ship pushed forward.  The chain became taut as the Pathfinder pulled hard against it.  A shudder ran through the entire hull.  Both crew and passengers held tight as the ship strained under the pull of the chain and anchor.

“Full power!” barked Emerson.

The engines roared louder.  The chain scraped loudly on the side of the ship.  Very slowly and below deck, the half-cut link near the windlass began to twist under the stress.  Inch by inch, it continued to stretch and pull, until the chain finally exploded sending the broken end smashing through the hull as the ship lurched forward.

Nearly everyone on the bridge lost their hold and fell to the floor.  The Pathfinder sailed across the immense swell and smashed bow first into the next wave.  In the lounge, passengers bounced off the bulkhead and over tables, grasping for each other as they fell.

17

The President’s VH-3 helicopter, Marine One, slowly approached the back lawn of the White House and stopped in a hover just a few feet above the grass.  It gently touched down with little more than a bump as the giant shocks absorbed the weight of the heavy craft.  The marine on board waited for the rotors to begin winding down before opening the door and deploying the step ladder.  He held Kathryn Lokke’s hand and helped her down the first steps and into the hand of a second marine waiting at the bottom.

She instinctively clutched her satchel tight as she reached the ground and was quickly escorted away from the helicopter.  An older man with gray hair approached with a quick short stride that almost made it look as though he were stumbling.  Bill Mason was the White House Chief of Staff and known for his no-nonsense approach to all things security.  Kathryn had only met him a few times before.  He always seemed impatient and in a hurry, though relatively polite.

“Nice to see you again, Ms. Lokke,” he said, motioning up a small manicured path that headed toward the back entrance of the White House. “Please follow me.”

They reached a set of thick double doors and stepped inside, where Kathryn was asked to put her things on a conveyor belt to be scanned.  She was then patted down by a female Secret Service agent and escorted forward.  Kathryn quickly grabbed her bag from the far end of the belt and continued following Mason.

“Your flight was a few minutes late, so the President should be waiting.” Mason turned a corner and led her down a flight of stairs into the basement.  Two additional turns left them at the doors to the infamous Situation Room.  “Is there anything you need?”

Kathryn shook her head.  She had gone over the material and the presentation several times.

President John Carr was standing when she entered the room.  He turned to meet them as Mason stepped in behind her.  “Mr. President, may I introduce Dr. Kathryn Lokke, from the USGS.”

President Carr seemed to tower over her with his six foot, four inch frame.  “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Lokke.”

She smiled nervously.  “It’s my pleasure, Mr. President.  Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Not at all,” he replied, as he stepped back and grabbed a chair.  “Please forgive me for being curt.  I have a call with Israel in about twenty minutes.  Shall we get started?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Kathryn answered and quickly fumbled to get her laptop out of her bag.  Several other men were already sitting around the table.  She recognized the Vice President, Secretary of Defense, and the National Security Advisor.  Most of the others wore decorated uniforms and looked to be high ranking officers from the military.

She started speaking as she opened up her laptop and connected the cable to the large monitor behind her.  “Mr. President,” she looked at the others, “gentlemen, the USGS has been closely tracking some accelerating changes in the Earth’s north and south poles for the last couple of decades, and more specifically the last several years.”  She pressed a button and the large screen lit up with the map she was displaying on her laptop screen.

“These are four pictures, two of the Arctic and two of the Antarctic.  The pictures in each set are separated by two years.”  She turned around to point to the screen.  “From this high a level you can easily see the changes occurring, and in fact these changes are accelerating.  You may have heard a few years ago that a huge section of the Ronne Ice Shelf separated and fell into the ocean, floating north.  The separation of the shelf happened due to the growing weight and pressure of the ice pack as measured over the years, at which point the pressure surpasses the strength of the frozen ice and a collapse occurs.”  Kathryn hit a button on her laptop and a larger screen of the Antarctic was displayed.  A satellite image from earlier in the year showed where a piece had broken off the giant Ronne Shelf.  It could already be seen a few hundred miles away in the photo.  “This break was a surprise, but fortunately the impact was not serious.”  She paused and looked around the room again.  “The reason I am here is because a few days ago we received a very large wake up call.”

“An earthquake, or more specifically, a geological shift, has occurred along the shelf, and this time not in the ice.”  She advanced to the next slide, which showed the large ice portion of the shelf.  Further south, a red line traced the shift that just occurred.  It was clear the recent shift was on land and near the first large mountain range, heading into the heart of the continent.  “When the huge part of that ice shelf broke off years ago, it floated away.  It floated because it was ice and its overall mass was less dense than the water below it.”  The screen now zoomed in on the red line.  “This latest shift occurred at the base of a glacier, which is a far heavier section of land mass than just ice.  This land mass has now dropped by almost fifteen feet.”

President Carr looked around the table and back at Lokke.  “What does this mean?”

Kathryn paused.  Her heart was beating fast, but she wanted to be careful how she phrased this. “It means a high level of risk for an impending natural disaster.”

Mason spoke up from the left side of the table.  “How high a risk are we talking about?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Kathryn sighed.  She noticed a couple of the men frown.  “We cannot determine how high without a more accurate timeline.  Measured in likelihood and impact, the risk is…very high.”

One of the men started to speak but the President held up a hand.  “Ms. Lokke, when you say ‘impact’ what do you mean?”

“Well,” she started, “there are a number of scenarios escalating in severity.  The scenario we must consider is a massive slide of that glacial base into the ocean which would send a gigantic tsunami up through the Atlantic.  The size would be something modern history has never seen.”

“As big as the one in Indonesia?” asked Mason.

“Bigger.  Much bigger.  This could have the energy to destroy every major city or seaport on either side of the Atlantic, all the way up to London.  The surge could reach many miles inland, which means several orders of magnitude larger than Indonesia.”

There was a long silence in the room.

“So,” the National Security Advisor took off his glasses and held them between his two fingers, “what do we do?”

Hank Stevas was a highly political figure.  Short and in his late sixties, he had attracted criticism from both sides of the aisle.  Stevas was known for being confrontational and overly brash, or ‘rude’ as others would politely call him.  Someone Kathryn was hoping would not be in this meeting.

Kathryn took a deep breath.  “Well, the best step would be to take a proactive approach and try to avoid what could turn out to be a global panic.  This would mean purposely finding a way to relieve some of the strain being created.  There are a few possibilities that require a certain amount of time and resource-”

“I see,” replied Stevas, cutting her off.  “And does everyone at the USGS agree with your assessment?”

Kathryn was expecting this.  Hank Stevas had not so subtly attacked her a year earlier during one of her environmental reports.  She was amazed at his total disregard for empirical facts, even his lack of interest in learning the facts.  Instead, he attacked politically, by going after a person’s character or reputation.  After her run in with him last year, she later learned that he was friends with her predecessor.  It seemed he was not going to let sleeping dogs lie.

Kathryn hesitated, only because of the satisfaction he was about to get, even though the answer was far from simple.  “No.”

“No,” Stevas repeated nodding his head and frowning.  “So, how many other scientists do agree with you?”

His accusing tone lingered in the air as she stared at him.  How convenient that he said ‘agree with you’ instead of ‘this conclusion’.  “It’s not that easy-”

Stevas spread his hands in a mocking gesture.  “How many agree with you? Half?  Less than half?  Does anyone agree with your view?  Being the head of the largest scientific department on the planet, I would hope that at least some of your subordinates would agree.”

Kathryn had to force herself not to glare at the man.  “Some, yes.”

“Some,” he nodded sarcastically.  “Some.”  Stevas looked around the room, addressing everyone at the table.  “So we have a minority scientific opinion here regarding a geological event that may or may not be a serious risk, and that could cost who knows how much.  Might I remind everyone that last year you gave a presentation claiming that the ocean levels worldwide were actually falling, in contradiction to everyone else in the scientific community?  They suggested the exact opposite.  Even, in fact calculating the opposite.”

Kathryn did not want to respond, but would not let it go unaddressed in front of everyone in the room.  “My suggestion was that the widely accepted calculations were flawed based on failure to account for a number of variables such as lunar gravitational patterns, the Earth’s equatorial bulge, and-”

“You claimed,” Stevas cut her off again, “that the water level was falling, but could not explain where the disappearing water was supposedly going!  Tell me, Ms. Lokke, does anyone agree with your claim now, a full year later?”

If Kathryn did not want to respond to his last question, she really did not want to respond to this one.  Stevas had clearly known what the subject of this meeting was about and decided to dig up some dirt.  Reluctantly, she answered.  “Not to my knowledge.  But you have to understand this isn’t like walking down to the nearest beach with a measuring stick.  There are many calculations involved.”

“Not to your knowledge,” he repeated.

“Look,” she said, ignoring Stevas and addressing the others, “this is a grave situation.  If we don’t do something, and soon, to release some of the pressure along that shelf, we may be talking about the greatest disaster we have ever seen.  If that piece of the continent collapses, we could have just a matter of hours to evacuate 50 million people.”  Now she glared at Stevas.  “How smoothly do you think a last minute evacuation plan would go?”

Kathryn looked to the President, who had been watching the rest of the table with his hands folded in front of his mouth.  “Ms. Lokke, do we have actual proof that this collapse is imminent?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Stevas putting his glasses back on.  “No,” she answered.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not ready to go around warning half the countries on the planet, potentially starting a panic, over something that we cannot provide real proof of.”  He stood up and the rest of the table abruptly followed.  “I’d like you to have your team conduct more research and return when you have something more concrete.”  He shook her hand.  “Thank you for coming in.”

Kathryn watched in stunned silence as all of the men shuffled out of the room, some shaking her hand on the way out.  Stevas was not one of them.

She slowly gathered up her things and put them back into her bag while Mason waited for her in the hall.  She could not believe what had just happened.  The President sat there and completely bought Stevas’ argument, which in the end was that she was incompetent.

She began to feel slightly sick to her stomach.  She had been completely dismissed for nothing more than some political strutting.  If she was right, then Stevas and the President of the United States had just condemned millions of people to death.

She walked out of the conference room and followed Mason back upstairs.  Knowing they would do nothing until it was too late made her now hope that she was wrong, really wrong.

18

After nearly an hour of twenty foot swells, the conditions slowly calmed and the Pathfinder continued plowing north.  The ship’s crew and guests, thoroughly battered, began nursing their wounds.  Several of the journalists had sustained injuries after being flung around the lounge, requiring treatment and some bandaging by the ship’s medical staff.

On the bridge, Alison had made her way out to the side of the ship to make sure Dirk and Sally were still with them.  The two dolphins remained near the bow, swimming and jumping effortlessly through the waves.  Alison turned and stepped back inside just as Emerson returned to the bridge from the other side.

“Alright, Clay.  I’ve got a ship full of sick and injured people and my lounge has been turned into a clinic.  We’ve damn near run out of bandages and splints.  What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know, Rudy.  I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

Emerson shook his head.  “I’ve never seen anything like that before.  A storm out of nowhere with perfect skies, nearly sinking my ship; something awfully strange is happening here.”

“I wish I knew,” Clay replied.

“Well, what the hell was that call about?  Sounds like you learned something.”

Clay turned toward Alison and her team.  “I don’t suppose you have a security clearance?”

They all shook their heads in unison.

He sighed.  Clay turned back to Emerson.  “They’re all going to need to be read on.  Caesare and one of our experts at the Pentagon seem to have found something on the Triton video, recorded by your team.”

Emerson looked at him expectantly.

“It looks like there may be an unidentified object on the ocean floor, something very big.”

“How big?” Emerson asked.

“Upwards of twenty five kilometers.”

“Jesus Christ!” choked Emerson.  “Are they kidding?”

“I don’t think so.  They said it was in the shape of a ring.”

Emerson furrowed his brow.  “A twenty five kilometer ring.  What the hell does that mean?”

Clay shrugged helplessly.  “You know as much as I do.  I’ll call him back and see if we can get more information.  In the meantime, Ms. Shaw, shall we find out what your dolphins have to say?”

Alison nodded.  “We’ll need to shut down the engines first.”

Emerson looked at his first officer.  “Give them a rest.”

“Yes sir,” Harris responded and gradually reduced the engines, finally shutting them down.  The ship slowly coasted to a stop.

Lee sat down at the table and typed Hello Sally Hello Dirk and clicked the translate button.

Hello Lee.

Are you okay?  Lee asked.

Yes.

Did you find the metal bubble?

Yes.  Very far.  Follow us.

Wait. Lee frowned at the captain.  “I’m guessing you are not interested in going back.”

“I think I’d rather chew broken glass,”  Emerson scoffed.

“I think we should-” Clay suddenly stopped and stared over Chris Ramirez’s shoulder.  A person was watching them from outside the window.  Alison and the others turned around as Clay took a step between them to get a better look when the person suddenly raised something up and pointed in their direction.  “Get down!” Clay shouted and stepped in front of Alison.

Alison grabbed Clay and peered around his shoulder.  She instantly recognized the person in the window.  It was the journalist she saw earlier with the dumb hat.  The man was focused, not on them but on Lee Kenwood’s monitor screen.  When he realized the others were looking at him, he quickly put the object down and darted away.

“Hey!” Clay yelled and ran after him.  He burst through the door and chased the stranger along the long catwalk, his feet banging the thick metal grate with every step.

The stranger ran quickly to the stairs and half slid, half jumped to the level below.  He bolted past the lounge and headed for the stern of the ship.

“Stop him!” Clay yelled and cursed the fact that there was no one else outside.  Most of the crew was inside helping the ship’s doctor tend to the rest of the passengers.  Clay reached the end of the second level catwalk and turned the corner to find the observation deck empty.  He crossed over to the port side and looked forward.  Emerson was running down the other side, toward him.  Clay looked around again, just in time to see the man sprint past behind him.  He reached the railing of the deck, above the stern’s platform and the dolphin’s makeshift tank.  He looked around and then back at Clay.  With Clay now just a few feet away, the stranger swung over the rail looking for something to land on, but at the last moment the man’s sleeve caught a protruding bolt.  The sudden change in motion caused his legs to pitch inward and his head and shoulders to turn out.  He tried to correct his orientation as he fell, but could not correct in time.  He hit hard, head first, making a sickening crunch.

Clay, followed by Emerson and now another crew member from the bridge, scrambled down the last flight of metal stairs and ran to the motionless figure.  Clay put his fingers against the man’s neck and felt for a pulse.  “He’s still alive.”

Two more crewmen arrived.  “Get the doc down here!”  Emerson shouted.  One of the officers ran back up the stairs.  The remaining two knelt next to Clay and helped slowly turn the man on his back.  They cut his clothes open, looking for other obvious injuries.

Clay and Emerson stood up and stepped back as the ship’s doctor came running down the stairs and started checking his vitals.  After a few minutes, the doctor looked up at the crewman.  “Get him on a stretcher gently and get him to medical!”

Even against the rocking of the ship, Emerson’s crew managed to get the injured man up the stairs without losing him or the stretcher. Clay and Emerson watched as the men made it to the second deck and took him forward of the lounge, to the medical area, located just below and back from the bridge.

Emerson shook his head.  “This day is getting stranger by the minute.”  He started for the stairs when Clay reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Before we head back,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “take a look at this.”  Clay pulled out a small silver object and showed it to the captain.

“What is this?” Emerson took it and turned it over in his hand.  It was a small, flat rectangular piece of metal about an inch thick.

“I don’t know,” Clay replied.  “But that is what he was holding up when we saw him through the window.”

“Where did you get it?”  Emerson asked.

“It was in his pocket.”

“Hmm…looks like a silver brick.  Or, maybe a digital camera, except there is nothing on it.  No lens, no button, no anything.”  He handed it back to Clay.

Clay ran his fingers up and down the smooth sides.  “Why would he be holding this up?”

“No idea.”

Clay frowned.  “The funny thing is that when I saw him, he looked like he was pointing it.”

“Like a weapon?”

“I doubt it,” Clay said.  “Besides, he wasn’t pointing it at us.  He was pointing it at that kid, Lee Kenwood, and his monitor.”

***

Clay was standing outside the door to the medical lab watching Doctor Kanna, the ship’s doctor, examine the man who lay unconscious on his table.  They had run a check on his fingerprints, which came up empty, as did his identification and press credentials.  They were not sure how he managed to get aboard with the others, and assumed it was a mistake or some kind of forgery during check-in at the dock.  After some questioning, they also found that none of the other journalists had any idea who he was.

As the doctor examined the motionless figure, he spoke into a small microphone to record the details of his examination.  The injury was significant, and they had already sent for an airlift to the nearest hospital.  Clay was watching Kanna take an x-ray when Alison walked up behind him.

“Any news?” she asked.

Clay shook his head.  “Not yet.  He seems to be a bit of a mystery.”

“I hear a helicopter is coming out to get him.”

He nodded.  “The doctor thinks it’s pretty bad.”

After a long silence watching the doctor, she turned to Clay.  “Listen…I wanted to thank you.”

Clay turned away from the window.  “For what?”

“You shielded me from whatever he was doing.”  She motioned to the figure on the table.

“Oh,” Clay gave her a casual shrug.  “It was nothing, just instinct.”  He began to turn away when he noticed she was staring at him.  “What?”

Alison said nothing.  Instead, she glared at him.

Clay finally got the message and smiled.  “You’re welcome.”

Alison relaxed.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Were you really just in this to find your probe?”

He smiled again.  “Yes.”

“No hidden agenda?” she said, with a skeptical tone.

“Just the probe.”

Alison nodded at that.  “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been kind of a bitch.”

Clay laughed.  “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Then you’re blind.”

“Is this the bitchy side?” he asked, motioning to their little exchange.

“Oh shut up,” she said, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about it.  For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I read up on you a little, on what the Navy did with your project in Central America.”

“What?” she said. “You read my file?”

Clay smirked.  “File?  What file?  I ‘Googled’ you.”

This time Alison laughed.  “You found out about that from Google?”

“You’d be surprised.  A lot of times we use it instead of the Navy’s system.”

Alison nodded her head while still grinning.  “So…” she said, holding out her hand.  “No hard feelings?”

Clay took her hand and gave it a gentle shake.  “No hard feelings.”  He glanced back at the doctor who was continuing his examination.  “So how are Dirk and Sally doing?”

“They’re fine.  A little hungry, but good.”

Clay turned back to her.  “I have to tell you, Alison, I’ve seen some amazing things, but what you’ve done with those dolphins is nothing short of earth shattering.”

“Thanks,” she said, with a shrug.  “But it wasn’t all me.”

“I know.  But it was a lot you.”  He looked seriously at her.  “I think you’re about to change the world, Alison Shaw.”

Alison smiled.  “I hope so.”

Clay thought for a moment.  “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully.  “Is there anyone who would not…want you to succeed?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean do you have competitors?  Maybe other teams working toward the same goal?”

“Of course. There are several other teams.  A few in the States and a couple in Europe.  Why?”

Clay looked back to the man unconscious on the other side of the glass.  “That guy seemed awfully interested in what you three were doing upstairs.”

Alison looked confused.  “I thought that was the whole point of being on the ship in the first place, to cover this.  I just assumed he was trying to sneak a shot of the screen, you know, something to ‘up’ his story.”

Clay turned back to Alison.  “Then why would he run?”

Alison gave him a perplexed look.  The thought had not occurred to her.  “I don’t know, maybe he thought he was going to get in trouble for leaving the lounge or something.  The conditions were getting awfully dangerous.”

“Hmm,” Clay said to himself.  “How much trouble would someone be in for that?”

“Are you kidding?  This is the Navy.”  She gave him a sarcastic look.  “You know the military!  You guys are pretty obsessive about things.”

“That’s true.” He nodded, still thinking to himself.  He reached into his pocket and took out the small rectangular object he retrieved from the man’s clothing.  “Do you have any idea what this is?”

She looked at it.  “A camera?”

“That’s what I thought too.”  He turned it over and showed her the various sides of it.  “But there’s no lens, screen, or even lines, for that matter.”

Alison reached out and took it.  She examined it closer, bobbing it up and down in her hand.  “It’s not heavy though.  If it was solid metal, it would be heavy, right?”

“It depends on the metal, but yes.  Generally, it would be much heavier.”

“Then what is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Clay said, as Alison dropped it back into his hand.  “But if it’s not a camera, why would he be holding it up to the window?” He looked at Alison.  “I was assuming he was trying to steal your information.”

She shrugged.  “I suppose it’s possible, but researchers usually tend to be more collaborative than competitive.  I mean, don’t get me wrong.  There are definitely people who try to keep their research quiet, but that’s usually in things like physics or electronics, something with commercial potential.  When we keep things quiet, it’s just because we want to get a big jump on everyone else, not for material gain.  Let’s put it this way, not a lot of people get rich over marine biology.  Sure, we can write a book and get tenure at some expensive college, but it’s not the kind of lifestyle that would cause you to keep things secret in hopes of becoming rich.”

“Besides,” she continued, “the other groups working with dolphins have taken much different approaches.  More manual, and there’s not as much technology involved.  In fact, two groups are not trying to communicate as much as measure kinetic and energy influences.”

“So, not much reason to be after your data,” Clay finished.

“Not really.”

Clay nodded, accepting her explanation.  “You know, there is something else I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

Clay took a deep breath.  “I don’t think I did you any favors upstairs when I asked if you had a security clearance.”

“I thought you were joking,” she smiled.  “Why would we have a security clearance?”

“Well, I suppose I was, but after talking to Captain Emerson and my superiors, it was agreed that whatever we experienced back there has to be treated as a security matter.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well,” he continued.  “It means that everyone on board, including your team, will need to be debriefed when we get back to port.”

“Okay.”  Alison seemed unconcerned.  “How long does that take?”

“It’s hard to say, maybe a couple hours each.”  Clay said.  “Remember, this is the military.  We tend to be obsessive about things.”

Alison was surprised.  “A couple of hours each?!”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Well, that’s not going to work.  What are we going to do with Dirk and Sally?  We just got them back into the tanks.  We can’t keep them in there overnight while you guys are asking us questions under a bright light.”

“Bright light?”

“Well, I don’t know how you do it!” she exclaimed.

“Relax.  They’ve agreed to let you get the dolphins home before they put the big light on you.  They will have to escort you back though.”

“What do you mean agreed?”

“It took a little convincing,” he admitted.

“From who?  You?”

“The important thing is that you will have time to get Dirk and Sally settled first.”

“Thank you.”  Alison said, with genuine sincerity.  He was not turning out anything like she assumed.

“Don’t thank me yet.  The debriefing can be extensive.”

Alison nodded and looked around the small room.  She watched Doctor Kanna stare at a set of digital x-rays on a large screen.  He stepped back with his hand on his chin.

“I guess we’d better start getting things packed up,” she said.  “Are you heading back upstairs?”

Clay shook his head. “Not yet.  I have some questions for the doctor.”  He pulled the silver object back out of his pocket.  “And I think I might borrow his x-ray machine.”

“Okay,” Alison said.  She paused and then quickly held out her hand.  “It was nice working with you.”

Clay smiled and shook it again.  “The pleasure was mine.”

With that, Alison turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Doctor Kanna was still looking at the x-rays when Clay entered.  About the size of a large clinic, the room was filled with stainless steel instruments and furniture.  A small bookshelf on the far wall was filled with a number of medical journals and textbooks.  Kanna looked at him momentarily, then turned back to the display.

“Dr. Kanna,” he said, quietly.

“Hello, John.”

“Any changes?”  Clay asked.

“Yes, but not for the better.  His condition is deteriorating quickly.  I hope the helicopter gets here soon.  I’m worried there may not be enough time,” he motioned around the room, “and I don’t have the equipment to do much here.”

Clay nodded.  There were only a few wires on the patient, monitoring his heart rate and blood pressure.  Both of which looked unusually low, even with what little he knew about medicine.

“It’s strange though,” Kanna went on, “the worst of it is the blow he took to the head, and I think the brain is swelling.  But, the rest of him appears relatively undamaged.  Yet his respiration, blood pressure, and most everything else is depressed.  Even his heartbeat looks to be irregular.  Very odd and a little alarming.”

Clay took a closer look at the man.  “Could it all be a result of the brain trauma?”

Kanna shrugged.  “It’s possible.  He also looks like he’s had some plastic surgery, which may indicate other health problems.  We’ve got to get him to a trauma center where they can find out more.”  He looked at the x-rays closer.  “This is also weird.”

“What’s that?”  Clay stepped around the table and closer to the display.

Kanna pointed to one on the left.  “He’s missing a large area of bone around the right side of his rib cage.”  He pointed to another. “And here, he has a strange shape to his femurs.  He may have a birth defect or some kind of deficiency.  I wonder if it’s given him a weaker bone structure, which might explain why his injury is as severe as it-”

The doctor was interrupted by a piercing alarm.  The monitor showed the man’s heartbeat slowing dramatically.  A moment later, a second alarm sounded, and the graph showed the blood pressure dropping.  Kanna quickly checked the monitor and the sensors strapped to the patient’s chest and arm.  “We’re losing him!  Where is that damn chopper?!”

Suddenly, the monitor’s display became a solid green and went black with a loud pop.  Overhead, the fluorescent lights burst.  The room went dark with only small rays of sunlight seeping in around the window blinds.  A strange blue sheen passed over the room’s stainless steel table and shelves, and the air became warm.  Behind Clay, a small white circle appeared in the middle of the room and slowly grew in size.  As it reached a circumference of almost two feet, the ring began to stretch vertically into an oval.  The room began to glow.  Clay and Kanna whipped around in time to see the oval reach full length and touch the floor.

The pitch black center of the oval suddenly became a blinding white light, forcing Clay and Kanna to shield their eyes.  After a few moments, the light subsided to a soft glow and turned dark.  The table holding the patient began to vibrate and some of Kanna’s tools rattled to the side and fell off on to the floor.  The patient’s table slowly started to slide toward the light.  Kanna instinctively grabbed the table trying to stop the slide, but was pulled forward along with the table.  It was not until one of the legs stopped against a lip in the floor that it stopped.  The pull continued causing the table to shake harder, but the leg remained stuck.  Kanna let go of the table and grabbed the unconscious patient as the shaking caused his body to vibrate toward the edge.  In the next instant, the shaking stopped and everything fell silent.  After several seconds, the stunned doctor opened his eyes wide as a figure appeared and stepped out from the large oval.  He was dressed in light clothing and looked only briefly at the doctor.  He gently lifted the end of the table over the lip and began pulling it toward the light himself, stopping only when he heard the loud slide action of John Clay’s semi-automatic pistol being chambered.

The figure turned around to find Clay’s gun just inches from his head.  “What in the hell did you just do?” Clay said.

The man did not move.  Instead, he looked down at the patient still on the table.  He was no longer breathing.

There was not the slightest waver in Clay’s gun as his finger moved onto the trigger.  “Who are you?”  He motioned to the light.  “And how did you do that?!”

The man remained silent.  He looked at the light and then back at the patient as if deciding something.  When he spoke, it seemed reluctant.  “Please, he is dying.”

Clay momentarily glanced down at the unconscious figure on the table and back to the person before him.  “Answer my questions.”

“There is no time.  I have only minutes to save him.”

Clay brought his other hand up and wrapped it around the bottom of the gun, strengthening his grip.  “Who are you?”

The man before Clay looked at the light again, emanating from the middle of the room.  “Let me save him and I will answer your questions.”

Clay shook his head slowly.

“Please.  Let me save him and I will stay.”

Clay hesitated, squinting at him.

“Please.  I must save him!” he pleaded. His voice was beginning to sound desperate.  “You have nothing to gain by keeping him here.  He will die and you will still only have me.”

After a long moment, Clay agreed.  “Okay, but if you try to leave, I’ll end it for both of you.”

The man nodded. He lifted the table slightly, freeing the leg.  Very slowly, the man took a step back and out of the way of the table, which continued sliding toward the light, unassisted.  Clay watched the man on the other side of the table who, in turn, watched the table until it disappeared into the soft glow.  He continued watching until the light finally blinked out and disappeared.

Clay turned his head so he could see the doctor from the corner of his eye.  “Doc.”  Kanna did not respond.  He just stared, stunned at the man in front of Clay.

“Doc!” Clay shouted, shaking Kanna out of his daze.  “Call the bridge.  Get some backup down here now!”

The doctor jumped for the phone and picked it up.

“Tell them to come armed.”

Kanna nodded.  As he spoke into the phone, Clay examined the man in front of him.

“So who are you?” Clay asked again.

The man stood motionless, staring at Clay.  The gun did not appear to frighten him at all.  Finally, he answered.  “My name is Palin.”

“Where are you from?” Clay asked.

The man slowly looked around the room.  “Not far.”

Clay squinted.  “I’m going to need some better answers than this.”

The man called “Palin” looked back at Clay.  “I’ll answer what you ask.  That was our agreement.”

No sooner had Kanna replaced the receiver than several running feet could be heard on the loud catwalk above.  Clay motioned behind Palin.  “Back up against that wall and keep your hands in front of you.”

Palin complied, slowly stepping back until his back brushed the wall.  Moments later, Harris and Tay burst into the room behind Clay, with guns drawn.

“What happened?” asked Harris.

Clay did not take his eyes off Palin.  “That’s a good question.  Let’s start by having you handcuff Mr. Copperfield here.”

19

Captain Emerson approached Alison and her team who were in the process of dismantling their computer equipment.

“Ms. Shaw,” he started, then looked at Chris and Lee.  “Gentlemen.  We have a change of plans.”

Alison stood up.  “What do you mean?”

“We need to offload you and the other passengers from this ship immediately.”

They were confused.  “What?”

“For your safety and the sake of national security, I need to get you off the Pathfinder,” Emerson said.

“I don’t understand.  You were taking us back to Miami.  Did something happen?”

Emerson shook his head. “I can only say that there has been a security incident.  Believe me when I tell you that this is for your protection.”

“An incident?  When?”  She scanned the bridge and did not find who she was looking for.  “Did something happen to Mr. Clay?”

“John Clay is fine,” he assured them.  “There will be a Coast Guard cutter arriving in a few minutes.  It is important that you and your team be ready to transfer as quickly as possible.”

“Wait,” she said.  “What about Dirk and Sally?”

“I’m afraid the Coast Guard ship is not equipped to accept them.  They will have to remain with us until we have the situation addressed and can return them to you.  I’m sorry.  Rest assured that delivering them will be our top priority and they will be well cared for until we bring them to you.”

Alison would have normally protested, but she suspected something dangerous had just occurred.  She decided this was not a good time to pick a fight with the Navy.

She looked at Emerson.  “I have your word, Captain?”

“You most certainly do.  Do you need any assistance?”

She looked at Lee who shook his head.  “No, we’ll be ready.”

The Coast Guard cutter was half the length and much faster, judging by its sudden arrival making a half circle around the Pathfinder.  It slowed and finished its circle, coming up alongside.  Both ships lowered their giant fenders to protect their hulls from mutual damage as they pulled themselves together and placed a large walkway from one railing to the other.

All of the reporters were lined up with their belongings.  Once they were motioned forward, they began stepping across one at a time.  Alison, Chris and Lee paid a quick visit to Dirk and Sally.  They then made their way back toward the bow.  By the time they arrived, the last of the passengers were crossing over with the help of two sailors on either side.

Alison stepped up onto the walkway and turned back.  Clay was nowhere to be seen, nor could she see the dolphin’s tank, far back on the stern.  She took a deep breath and walked quickly across.  Chris and Lee followed.

When all passengers were seated and counted, the plank was quickly removed.  The engines roared to life, and the cutter pulled away.  As they charged forward, the Pathfinder slowly shrank in the distance behind them.  Alison leaned forward and caught sight of the helicopters approaching the Pathfinder’s bow.  One large helicopter was accompanied by two smaller Apache attack choppers on each side.

20

Kathryn Lokke was sitting at her desk, but quickly stood up when she saw Phillip LeBlanc walk in.  At nearly six feet tall and in his sixties, LeBlanc was the Secretary of the Interior and, in Kathryn’s opinion, one of the few honorable politicians left at his level.  He was also her boss.  Having run the USGS a few administrations prior, just before the wave of scandals, LeBlanc noticed Kathryn early in her scientific career and became a mentor.  He was instrumental in her becoming the director of the USGS as the person who encouraged her, or pushed, as she recalled, to go for it.

“How was your presentation?” he asked, sitting down on a leather couch which lined the wall near her desk.

She exhaled dramatically.  “Which half?”

“Not good, eh?” LeBlanc asked, rhetorically.

“My good friend Stevas was there.”

“Crap.”

Kathryn sat back down.  “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that.  And now, as far as I can tell, both he and the President think I’m a loon.”

“Stevas is a sleaze but he doesn’t think you’re crazy.  Or stupid, for that matter.  He’s just playing nasty politics.  You do know he’s thinking about running next year, right?”

Kathryn’s eyes shot open.  “For President?  Are you kidding me?!”

“That’s the rumor.”

Kathryn leaned back in her chair and covered her mouth with her hands.  “Jesus, can you imagine what he would do to this department?!”

“Yes, I can.”

Lokke shook her head and opened her bag, withdrawing her laptop.  She plugged it in and pressed the power button before looking back at LeBlanc.

“So,” he said, “I’m assuming they didn’t react the way you were expecting.”

“The way we were expecting,” she corrected him.  “And, no.  Evidently, the idea of unpredictable risk is lost on them.  The President said he wants more proof before going out to other countries and risking a panic.”  She spied him suspiciously.  “You should have come with me.”

LeBranc frowned.  “No, you run the department now, Kathryn.  I had nothing to add anyway.”  He leaned back into the couch and crossed his legs.  “So he wants more proof.”

“Yes.  Hopefully, something slightly less compelling than an approaching tsunami.”

He laughed.  “Let’s hope so.”

Kathryn shrugged sarcastically.  “Fortunately, I think they just want the day and time that it’s supposed to collapse.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Kathryn logged into her computer.  “We need more evidence.  And evidence that does not rely on my calculations of shrinking ocean volumes. Stevas really played me the fool on that one.”  She sat back again in her large chair.  “I’m thinking that if we can get more exact measurements, use early indicators from the previous Ronne break off, and the speed with which it actually separated, we may be able to present a more realistic risk level.  As long as we have a lot more facts than the other global agencies, they won’t be in much of a position to argue.  The only arguments left should be what we do about it and how much it will cost.”

“Who else was there and, more importantly, did anyone else believe you?”

“Well ‘believe’ may be a strong word, but yes, I think there were a few who understood the risk I was trying to impart.  Not surprisingly, it was the military officers and not the politicians.  They seem to have a pretty solid grasp on risk and consequences.  And Miller, the Secretary of Defense, seemed to be listening.”

“No surprise there.” LeBlanc replied.  “After all, they have to fight wars.  Politicians just start them.”  He went on.  “If you don’t know it by now, Stevas has the President’s ear, and that’s the polite version.  Your best bet is to get as much data as is possible, and convince Mason to let you present it to the President while Stevas is not around.  He’d probably be a bit more receptive.”

“And how exactly do I convince Mason?” she asked.

He shrugged.  “You’re a good looking woman.  Sweet talk him.”

Kathryn pretended to be offended.  “Did you really just say that?”

“Of course I didn’t.  You’re hearing things.”

Kathryn smiled and looked at her laptop, thinking.  “I’m going to need to assemble a strong investigation team, starting with the group that documented the slide.  We’re going to need more people.”

LeBlanc could see that she had just entered planning mode.  He stood up and straightened his tie.  “You’re also going to have to convince some of those people to get off their warm duffs and walk around in subzero temperatures for a while.”

She suddenly stopped typing and gave him a concerned look.  He was right.  She was going to have to yank people off other projects.  This was not going to make her popular.

He watched her expression change, with the full scope of what she had to do dawning on her.  “This might be a good time to practice that sweet talking.”  And with a wink, he walked out.

21

The two Apache attack helicopters hovered just off the Pathfinder’s bow, while the larger Seahawk lowered itself onto the ship’s landing pad.  Immediately upon touchdown, the door slid open and four marines jumped onto the platform dressed in combat gear and carrying M4 carbine assault rifles.  They ran quickly out from under the turning blades to the base of the stairs, where several of the ship’s crew, still armed, stood around John Clay and the smaller Palin.  Clay stood close to Palin, who was handcuffed with his arms behind his back.  He showed no expression as he watched the marines approach.

The first marine stopped in front of them and saluted to Captain Emerson, who also stood next to Clay.  The other three, just a step behind, did the same.

“Sir!” the marine said, turning to Clay.  “We have orders to bring you back to base.  Are you ready?”

Clay nodded.

The marines grabbed Palin by the arms and walked him briskly back to the helicopters, the blades still spinning at full speed.  Clay grabbed his duffle bag and pulled it up over his shoulder.  He turned to Emerson.

“Thanks Rudy,” he said, shaking hands.

Emerson nodded.  “Keep me posted.”

Clay gave an informal salute to the rest of Emerson’s crew, then turned and trotted after the marines.  He reached the chopper just as they hauled Palin aboard, and crawled in after him.  The marines sat on all sides with their rifles pointed at Palin.  Clay tossed his bag into the rear, climbed in next to them, and slammed the metal door shut.  One of the men handed him a headset.  He put it on and adjusted the microphone.

The pilot adjusted the rotors on the Seahawk, and the helicopter lightened until it lifted off the pad.  It quickly rose into the air, flanked by both Apaches.  They headed north, slightly away from the setting sun.  Behind and far below, the giant engines of the Pathfinder roared back to life.  It swung to port and began steaming north.

Under the sound of the helicopter’s powerful thumping blades, Clay finished his conversation and removed his headset.  He leaned against the door watching Palin.  The man sat uncomfortably, with his hands still behind his back, eyes lowered at the floor.  The marines watched him intently, with grips tight on their weapons.  Palin looked smaller than before.  He sat quietly and did not struggle.  To Clay, he looked almost despondent.

Palin slowly lifted his head to look around the small cabin and the marines sitting around them.  Their faces looked like chiseled stone.  He looked at Clay and their eyes met.  They maintained eye contact for a long time.

Clay could not help but notice something in Palin’s gaze.  Outwardly, he looked small and helpless but, at the same time, his eyes revealed no fear.  When Palin looked away, Clay turned his head away too and looked out the window.  After a few minutes, the blue ocean ended and was quickly replaced by white sand beaches as the helicopters raced north along Florida’s Atlantic coastline.

***

The Naval Air Station in Jacksonville was the largest Navy base in the southeast region and third largest in the United States.  Referred to as “NAS JAX”, the base was the largest in the region and specialized in anti-submarine warfare and some of the best aviator training on the planet.

The three helicopters arrived in just under two hours.  They landed at a remote area of the base on the southwest corner to avoid attention.  Several Humvee vehicles surrounded the landing area with their headlights on, and two dozen armed marines stood waiting.  As soon as the Seahawk touched down, they rushed and yanked open the door.  Clay quickly jumped down and watched the four marines climb out and strong arm Palin, as he stumbled down the steps.

“Easy!” Clay yelled above the sound of the rotors.

The marines paid no attention as they escorted Palin off the pad and over to one of the vehicles.  The rest of the marines fell in around them.  Clay ran to keep up, but was suddenly pulled aside by an officer.

“Mr. Clay?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Come with me please.”  The officer directed Clay to a different vehicle and opened the door for him.  After he climbed in, the officer ran to the other side and slid behind the wheel.

Clay tried to find Palin in the glare of the bright headlights, but could not determine which vehicle they had put him in.  The Humvees pulled out in unison and headed in a different direction, toward a small section of dimly lit buildings.

Clay’s driver turned left and, instead, drove to a small two-story building at the edge of a dark, thick forest which extended for many miles.  Had it not been for a single bright light and two marines standing guard in front of the metal door, Clay would have thought the structure was no longer in use.  The officer brought the Humvee to a stop and they both got out.  The driver noticed Clay instinctively looking into the back seat.  “Someone will bring your things shortly.”

Clay nodded and followed him to the entrance, where the officer waved an ID at the guards.  The guard on the right turned around and punched a code into an unseen console.  The huge metal door slid to the side with a loud hissing sound.

They both stepped inside into a brightly lit entryway, where they were met by four more marines.  Two of the marines held their rifles, while the other two each held up a long cylindrical Geiger counter.  One scanned Clay and the other scanned his officer escort.  Clay produced his military ID and both were run under a computerized scanner.  While he waited, Clay looked around the large room.  There were four cameras, each in different locations.  A large single hallway extended to a door at the far end.  Both men retrieved their identification cards and walked to the end of the hall.  The door was an elevator door, which opened as they approached.  They stepped in and joined another armed marine, who maintained a hold on his weapon with one hand, and pushed the down button with the other.  The tiny room jerked slightly and began its descent.

Clay stood calmly behind the marine, examining his outfit and gear.  All of his previous visits to NAS JAX had been to some of the base’s larger facilities, where he had made a number of friends.  In fact, his last visit was just five weeks prior, where he spent the day in discussions with submarine engineers on another communication problem.  He had never before seen the building he was now in, and it was quite clear that was by design.  In fact, Clay wondered how many of the other 23,000 base personnel knew about it.

They descended for what Clay assumed to be three or four levels.  When the doors opened, it was clear that the building’s real heart was underground.  In the background, several people hurried past back and forth.  In front of them, a female officer waited while they stepped off.  She turned to lead them without a word.  Both men followed.

After two right turns, they arrived at a large conference room.  To Clay’s surprise, Admiral Langford was waiting, along with Captain Foster, the commander of NAS JAX.  They crossed the room as both of Clay’s escorts saluted and disappeared.

“Here he is,” Langford said, extending his hand.  “John, meet Captain James Foster.  He runs the base here.”

“Hello, Commander.”

Clay saluted and then accepted Foster’s handshake.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.  I’ve been here many times but have never had the pleasure.”

Langford got right to business, gesturing toward the large conference table in the middle of the room.  At the far end was a flat monitor mounted to the wall.  “Clay, we’re about to have a call with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Defense and the National Security Advisor.  We are also going to include a few experts in various fields.  Obviously, we need you to recount exactly what happened this morning on the Pathfinder, so we can understand what we are dealing with here.”

Clay nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“Do you need anything before we start?” asked Langford.  “We have a few minutes yet.”

“No, sir,” replied Clay.  “I’m fine.”

“Excellent.  Why don’t we have a seat?”  They walked over and sat down.  “I hear you have a fix on the Triton II?”

“Yes, sir, though it’s probably a lead more than a fix.  We don’t know precisely where it is yet.  We did not have time to investigate before all of the excitement.”

“Understandable,” Langford said.  “Were those dolphins any help?”

“Yes,” said Clay.  “They claim to have found it, but that’s the part we still need to follow up on.  I suspect that it’s going to be a difficult recover-”.  Clay was suddenly cut off by his cell phone ringing.  It was Will Borger’s number.  He looked at Langford.  “Do I have time to take this, sir?”

Langford looked at this watch.  “You have four minutes.  Make it fast.”

Clay stood up and walked to the back of the room while Langford and Foster continued their earlier conversation.  He accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.

“This is Clay.”

“Hi Clay.  It’s Will,” came Borger’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, Will.  What is it?  Do you have something?”

“Yeah, more on our giant hula hoop at the bottom of the ocean.”

Clay looked at Langford and Foster, who were still talking.  “Let’s hear it.”

“We’ve been able to improve the video quality pretty significantly after fine tuning the program.”

“Okay,” said Clay.  “And?”

Borger looked at Caesare, who was sitting next to him.  “Well,” he continued, “the thing looks to be moving.”

“Moving?!” asked Clay.  “Moving how?”

“Moving as in spinning,” said Borger.  “The thing is spinning.  If my calculations are correct, I’d say this thing is making a complete rotation about every three minutes, maybe less.”

“Jeez!” Clay exclaimed.  “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

Clay lowered his phone and looked at Langford and Foster, who were now watching him.  “We’ve got to get Borger on this call, sir!”

The call started when the giant screen came to life.  On the other end, it showed a large conference room, which Clay surmised was somewhere in the Pentagon.  Around that table sat Secretary of Defense Miller and National Security Advisor Stevas.  Several other military personnel, including the Joint Chiefs Chairman, the Vice Chairman and the chiefs for each of the five military branches; the Air Force, Navy, Army, Marines and Coast Guard.

A moment later, four other images appeared along the bottom of the screen, which Clay assumed were the experts that Langford had mentioned.  Finally, in another small window, appeared Borger and Caesare.  Borger was out of breath from running a quarter mile to the nearest video enabled conference room.  Caesare did not look the least bit winded.

“Gentlemen,” Langford began, “I’d like to dispense with introductions for reasons of expediency.  John Clay has just arrived here in JAX and is ready to debrief us on exactly what happened on Emerson’s ship today.”  He turned and nodded to Clay.  “Go ahead, Clay.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Clay stood up and faced the camera.  He started from the beginning and explained the loss of the Triton submersible, the enlisting of the marine biology team in an attempt to find it, and everything that occurred on the Pathfinder from the time they left port.  When he finished, he remained standing for questions.  He thought to himself that if anyone were shocked by the story, almost no one on the screen showed it.

Miller, the Secretary of Defense, jumped in first.  “So Commander Clay, you’re saying that the air in the Med Lab just opened up and this man whom you call ‘Palin’ stepped right through?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Clay.  “That is what I believe happened.”

Stevas leaned forward in the video feed.  “That is what you believe happened?  What the hell does that mean?  Did it or didn’t it?”

“Sir,” replied Clay.  “I do not know exactly what happened, or how something like that is even possible.  What I am explaining to everyone here is what I experienced, to the best of my understanding.”

Langford interjected.  “Might I suggest that before we get into a debate, we find out if something like that is possible?  And if not, what else it could have been?”  Langford called on one of the experts on the screen.  “Professor Harding is on this call, who leads the physics department at MIT.  Dr. Harding, can you please speak to what we may be looking at here?”

“Well,” Harding started, clearing his throat.  “To be honest, it sounds hard to believe.”  Harding’s video grew larger on the screen as he spoke to the group.  “The kind of technology required to accomplish this sort of feat…well, just isn’t available today.”  He thought a moment.  “Mr. Clay, is it possible that this Palin person was already onboard the ship?”

“It is,” nodded Clay.  “However, we checked with every crewmember and passenger.  No one had seen him during boarding or any time on the trip.”

“What about this patient?” asked Langford.  “The one who was injured.  Could they have had some trick up their sleeve, something coordinated?”

“It’s possible,” acknowledged Clay.  “But I don’t think this was a trick.”

“And why is that?” Stevas shot back, from the Pentagon.  “Why are you so sure this was not some deception?  Mr. Harding himself said that it’s not even possible, so it seems to me that some form of deception is the most logical conclusion here.”

“Well, that’s true, sir,” Clay replied, “except for a couple of problems.”

“Which are?” Stevas insisted.

“The disappearance of the examination table, not to mention the body that was lying on top of it.”

Stevas did not appreciate the sarcasm.  “Well, can we be sure that the table is in fact missing?  You also said from your description that the man on the table and this Palin person looked very similar in appearance.”

“That is correct.”

“Isn’t it possible that some kind of illusion or trick might make it seem as though there were two people when, in fact, there was only one?”

“I don’t see what that would accomplish,” Langford said.  “If someone were in trouble, getting off the ship as an injured reporter would have been far easier than becoming a prisoner.  Besides, why would someone go to so much trouble to get onboard a research vessel?  To learn about some of our newly discovered oil deposits?”

“I agree,” added Leonard Bullman, the Army Chief.  Bullman was slender and had a quiet, thoughtful look about him.  “Why the elaborate deception or risk of life and limb just to get on a science vessel?”  He turned to look at Bruce Bishop, the Naval Chief sitting next to him.  “Is there anything else on Emerson’s ship of any serious value?

Bishop shook his head.  “I spoke with Emerson an hour ago.  There is nothing with that kind of value aboard.  In fact, the majority of their data has not even been analyzed yet.”

“Which means,” said Langford, “that the only thing that changed on that ship by the time it left port…” he trailed off and looked at Clay.

“…was the dolphins,” Clay finished.

“What’s this little piece of translation software worth?” asked Defense Secretary Miller.

Clay shook his head.  “Not much.  According to the team, bragging rights primarily.  Something worth winning a prize over, but certainly not a lifetime in prison.”

Will Borger raised his hand on the screen and spoke.  “Uh, excuse me.”

Clay spoke up.  “Gentlemen, this is Will Borger and my colleague, Steve Caesare.  They discovered the ring on the ocean bottom.  I asked them to join the call, as they have come up with more information on it.  Go ahead, Will.”

The video window showing Borger and Caesare grew larger and moved to the middle of the screen.  “We, uh, have analyzed this quite a bit more and it looks like this ring is…moving.”

Most of the participants on the call looked confused.  Harding, however, looked intrigued.  “What do you mean?” He asked, leaning forward.

“Well, when we say moving, we actually mean spinning.  From my calculations, it looks to be making a full rotation every three minutes.  Given that this thing has a total circumference of about 47 miles, that means it is spinning at a speed of nearly 700 miles per hour.”

Everyone on the monitors were suddenly speechless.  Harding’s mouth fell wide open.

22

“What did you just say?” said Miller.

Borger continued.  “The ring appears to be generating energy.”  He typed a few commands and his laptop screen appeared on the large monitors for everyone to see.  The picture showed an area of the ring.  “If we measure the light waves emanating from it, we can see a subtle shift in the Doppler which shows movement.  The change in wavelengths allows us to measure the speed.”

Nearly everyone on the call was still stunned.

“Will,” said Clay.  “What do you think this is?”

Borger shook his head.  “We’re really not sure.  My guess is some kind of power plant.”

“A power plant for what?” asked Stevas.

“I don’t know,” answered Borger.  “There are too many unknowns.  For instance, why is it underwater?  Why is it located so remotely?  How much power could it generate?  It would help if we could see whether something was situated in the middle, but the resolution is not clear enough.”  He shook his head.  “If it is a power plant, I’ve sure never seen one that spins like this.”

“Let’s back up here,” Miller interrupted.  “Obviously this thing is enormous.  What country is even capable of building something like this, and undetected?”

No one answered, so Miller continued.  “What would it take if we built it?”

“Thousands of men and a decade, at the minimum,” Borger answered.  “And that’s assuming we weren’t trying to keep it a secret.”

“And that’s probably conservative,” added Harding.

“Okay, so we have some secret group that’s been working on this for decades,” Stevas said.

Miller raised an eyebrow.  “Like who?”

“How the hell should I know?  From where I’m sitting, the bigger question is not who built a massive power plant, but what is it for?”

“Maybe it’s supposed to change the water temperature, and affect the weather or something,” Mason offered.

Stevas raised his hand in agreement.  “Right.  Maybe they want to cause a hurricane or an earthquake.  Or sap our national power grid and shut us down.”  He folded his arms across his chest.  “I think we need to figure out what this thing does first.”

Miller looked at the screen.  “Dr. Harding?”

Harding frowned.  “Almost anything is theoretically possible, given enough energy, but even if someone figured out how to create a hurricane or earthquake, there would be no way to control it.  Your hurricane could go south instead of north, or east instead of west.”  He stared at the picture again.  “I cannot imagine this being intended for weather manipulation.”

“Fine!” Stevas barked.  “Then you tell us!”

Borger blinked a few times.  He swallowed hard.  “This…” he started shaking his head.  “This may sound crazy, but it reminds me of something a team of scientists are working on in Switzerland.”  He stared at his picture.  “They have been able to establish a space-time relationship between two small objects.  This was also done using rings, but they were very small, and the relationship only existed for a fraction of a second.  It’s a long shot, but there are several aspects that fit here.”

“What do you mean when you say ‘relationship’?” asked Langford.

Borger did not answer.  He just stared at the screen, wondering if he should go on.  This was almost too crazy.

“I think he means a tunnel,” answered Harding.

Langford was confused.  “A tunnel?”

“A wormhole,” said Borger.

“What the hell is a wormhole?”

“A wormhole is a tunnel through time and space,” Harding explained.  “A theory from modern physics.”

“And the Swiss have done this?” asked Stevas.

“Not this,” Harding answered, shaking his head.  “What Mr. Borger is referring to is a series of experiments carried out by the Swiss.  However, they did it only for a moment and it was less than a millionth of a millimeter long.  It also required an incredible amount of energy, equal to all of the electricity used by Switzerland in a year, compressed into less than a second.”

“And you think we’re looking at a giant version of this?”

“It’s conceivable,” Harding said slowly.  “In their experiment, the Swiss team found a harmonic relationship between the rings.  With enough energy and by spinning the rings, they connected at a harmonic level and made the tunnel possible.”  He scooted his chair closer to his monitor.  “Mr. Borger, can you enlarge this image?”  A moment later, the picture zoomed in.  “One of the unique aspects of the experiment was that they had to spin the rings above the speed of sound to establish the harmonic connection.”

Langford looked at Borger.  “How fast did you say this thing underwater is spinning?”

“Just under the speed of sound.”

“But the speed of sound is different in water than in air,” Harding pointed out.  He spoke as if he did not believe what he was saying, but could not stop himself from working though the theorem.  “Sound travels over four times faster in water.  But then again, if sound is a variable, then it’s possible that a wormhole would require less energy under the water, and therefore be the preferred place to have it.  But we would still be talking about a required level of energy that is far beyond anything we could manage.”

“You mean ‘we’ as in the United States?” asked Stevas.

“No,” said Harding.  “I mean ‘we’ as in human beings.”

A few people lowered their heads and mumbled an expletive.

Defense Secretary Miller took a deep breath.  “Are you telling us that this was not built by humans?”

“It’s a consideration.”

Miller could not believe what he was hearing.  “And you’re telling us we may have a wormhole under the ocean?”

“Maybe,” Borger said.  “But even if we knew how to create that much energy, it doesn’t sound like we have the means of doing it.”

Harding nodded in agreement.  “He’s right.  Not even combining all of the power plants in the world could do it.  Which brings us back to the question, if we are not able to power this thing, let alone build it, then who is?”

“Or…if the power required is not here, where is it getting its power from?” Borger finished.

The men at the table looked back and forth at each other.

“Okay, hold on,” said Miller. “Let’s back up.  Is there another explanation for this ring?  What else could it be?”

Harding cleared his throat.  “Well, if we made it, then its purpose should be limited to a few possibilities.  If we did not make it, then it could be damn near anything.”

“Mr. Borger,” Miller continued.  “How sure are you about your data?”

“Pretty sure,” Borger replied.  “I can certainly be wrong but I have gone over these numbers several times.  Of course, there could be something else happening here that we can’t see.  In fact, it would almost have to be.  For example, maybe there is something inside.  Maybe this is not what it appears to be from our limited picture resolution.  Some of the basic assumptions I’m working off here could be wrong.  It’s just a matter of likelihood at this point.”

Clay spoke up and turned to Langford.  “Sir, we need to get a better look at that thing.  At the very least, we need to find the Triton and see what else it recorded.”

Langford nodded.  “Agreed.”

“Okay,” Stevas said.  “Until we get a closer look at this ring, we need to consider the worst case scenario here.  If it turns out to be something else, then all the better.  If on the other hand this is some kind of wormhole, what the hell are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” said Langford.  “That should depend on what it’s for.”

“What it’s for?” said Stevas, incredulously.  “It’s a goddamn tunnel.  What do you use tunnels for?”  He looked at Harding.  “Doctor, is it just me or is the whole purpose of a tunnel to send something through it?  Could whoever built this bring something through?”

Harding nodded with a raised eyebrow.  “It’s possible.  We don’t know enough about its characteristics, but yes I would have to agree, that is a possibility.”

“Thank you,” Stevas said with satisfaction.  “So if it’s possible to send something through this wormhole, then I don’t know about everyone else, but my worst case scenario is that whoever we’re dealing with either has sent something through it, or is going to.”

Everyone sat quietly, contemplating Stevas’ suggestion.  After a long moment, Langford spoke up.

“Well, if this is a tunnel of some kind, it would certainly explain how someone was able to step onto one of our ships out of thin air.”  He motioned to the screen.  “Dr. Harding, is it possible that what Clay saw on the Pathfinder was a small person-size wormhole?”

“It’s possible,” he said, shaking his head again, “but it is very hard to believe.  I mean the amount of technical advancement to do what we are talking about, if someone was even able to create this ring, then presumably a very small tunnel wouldn’t be very difficult.  But, we are making a lot of assumptions here.”

“Anyone have any other ideas or explanations?” Langford asked.

Borger shrugged.  “Nothing else that matches the circumstances.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seems to fit.  The power involved, the complexity, time to build.  Why it would appear to be hidden underwater. The energy and magnetic field distortion.  It seems to be the most reasonable idea.  I also agree with Dr. Harding that if someone is able to build a big wormhole, they certainly would not have trouble making a small one.  I think the important thing to consider here is what we may already be thinking.  We may be dealing with someone vastly smarter than we are.”

Miller leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.  “I was afraid someone was going to say that.  Dr. Wong,” he said, turning back to the screen.  “You are our resident expert on astrobiology.  I presume you have been able to review the pictures and video of this Palin person?”

Professor Wong’s image filled the screen as he spoke.  In his early fifties, with glasses and very little gray hair, Wong’s reputation in the astronomical field was well known.  “Yes, I have.”

“What is your opinion?”

“Meaning?” asked Wong.

“Meaning…” said Miller, “are we even talking about humans anymore?”

Wong frowned.  “Well…while it’s feasible that this ring may be a portal of some kind, I doubt this man Palin is an alien, if that’s what we’re asking. Judging from his anatomy, including the patient x-rays from Dr. Kanna on the Pathfinder, they look far too human.”

“What do you mean ‘too human’?” asked Bullman, the Army chief.

“Well, let’s make some rather broad assumptions here.  Say we were dealing with an alien race that built this wormhole, and they are able to power it from somewhere else, potentially far away.  Their anatomy is simply not different enough,” Wong explained.  “The bottom line is that any life form developing on a different planet would have its own evolutionary path.  Another planet, for instance, would have wildly different environmental variables than Earth.  Maybe it’s smaller than Earth, maybe it’s hotter, maybe the days are shorter, maybe there is less water.  The fact is that with millions of small, even tiny, differences between our environments, there would be an infinite number of variations of physical form for them to evolve into.  So, with an almost limitless amount of diversity, the odds of another race developing into near identical beings is…well, a mathematical impossibility.”

“An impossibility?”

Wong nodded.  “Damn near.”

Miller leaned back and sighed.  He then raised his hand to rub his eyes.  “Okay.  So, let me get this straight.  We think we have a wormhole under the ocean, going somewhere we don’t know, requiring more energy that we can ever hope to produce, built by someone a lot smarter than us, and they are not alien.”  He looked around the room and then at the screen.  “Have I missed anything?”

No one replied.

“Admiral Langford,” Miller suddenly leaned forward in his chair.  “We need more information and I’d like your team to get it.”

“Yes, sir,” Langford responded.

“We have an interrogator due to arrive at your location shortly.  Let’s see what we can find out from this captive, Palin.  But, we need to be careful here.  Dare I say that taking any action prematurely could be very dangerous?”  Miller looked around the room.  “Let’s reconvene in the morning when we hopefully know more.  Thank you, everyone.”  With that, he reached for the remote control on his conference room table and his window blinked out.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Langford said.  “We’ll be in touch.”  He reached for his own controller and closed all of the calls except for Borger and Caesare.  Langford and Foster both stood up.

“Clay,” said Langford, “head back to the main base and get some sleep. “  He turned to Foster.  “Do you have a plane he can use?”

“We’ll find one.”

“Thanks,” he turned back to Clay.  “In the morning, I want you in the air.”

“Yes, sir,” answered Clay.

“You two,” he said to Borger and Caesare. “Keep on that video.  See if there is anything else you can find out.”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.

Both Langford and Foster left the room.

Clay watched the door close behind them.  He then turned to the large monitor, where Borger and Caesare were still on screen.  “Well, that was interesting.”

23

Alison watched as the harness holding Dirk slowly swung over the aquarium’s glass tank and then stopped.  It then began to descend until it gently touched the water.  It continued down until Dirk was a few feet below the water line.  At this point, a small rope was pulled which released a large clasp allowing the harness to unfold and fall away.  Dirk wriggled out and swam excitedly around the tank several times.  He then headed to the large glass wall, where Sally was watching the children press their hands and noses against the glass and waving at them.  After a few moments, Dirk turned, swimming under and away from Sally and the children.  When he reached the far end of the tank, he sped back directly toward the glass, suddenly twisting around and around to perform several barrel rolls through the bright blue water.  The children went crazy.

Alison was always struck at how much Dirk and Sally loved children.  Many mornings, the dolphins were waiting at the glass wall when the doors of the aquarium opened and the children came streaming through.  They clearly had a connection with each other, and she never tired of watching them.  She walked back to her lab at the other end of the tank, leaving the lobby and the laughing children.  When she reached the metal door, she slid her card through the small slot and waited for the door to unlock with a loud click.  She pulled the door open and stepped into the green carpeted room of their lab.

She walked up behind Lee Kenwood and looked over his shoulder.  “How are things looking?”

“Fine,” he said.  “All systems are good.  In fact, IMIS picked up a few more words while we were gone.”

“Our vocabulary list is getting long,” she noted, looking at his monitor.

Lee nodded.  He finished typing and closed a window on his screen.  He opened another window, a new program that Alison had not seen before.  Lee slid his chair to the side and looked up at her.  “I have a surprise for you.”

She looked at him with a puzzled expression, expecting him to finish the sentence.  He just sat smiling at her.

“What?” she finally asked.  She looked back to his screen.  The new program showed a large black circle with a thin green line through it.  She looked back to Lee wondering what she was supposed to be looking at.

“Lean in,” Lee said.

Alison leaned closer to his desk.  She still had no idea.

“Now talk,” he whispered.

She still looked puzzled.

He whispered again.  “Say ‘hi’.”

She frowned and looked at his screen again.  “Hi.”

The thin green line danced when she spoke, then went flat again.  A moment later, she heard IMIS translate the short word into the tank.

Dirk and Sally turned around and swam over to the lab.  Hi Alison, they replied.

Alison’s eyes widened.  “Did IMIS actually hear me?”

Lee smiled.  “Voice recognition.  No more typing.”  He reached out and slid the keyboard away from them.  “Just talk into the microphone and IMIS will automatically translate.”

Alison watched Lee as she spoke again.  Again, the green line danced at the sound of her voice.  “How are you today?” she asked.

We good, said Dirk.  How you?

“Lee,” she cried, “you are amazing!”

He smiled.  “Pretty cool, huh?”

Alison picked a banana out of her bag.  She peeled it and walked over to the tank where Dirk and Sally were floating on the other side, watching her.  She took a small bite, reached out, and put her hand on the glass.  Dirk floated forward and touched his nose to the other side.  Sally remained where she was and continued watching Alison.  She peeled more of the banana and took another bite.

What eat Alison? asked Sally.

Surprised, Alison looked at Sally.  After a moment, she turned from the glass and walked back over to Lee’s desk.  She took the mouse and opened the window listing IMIS’ current vocabulary list.  She scanned the list, trying to decide on the best word to use.

Alison leaned in close to the microphone.  “I am eating a plant.”  As an afterthought, she walked back to the glass and held the banana up for Sally to see.  Very slowly, Sally drifted forward to examine the fruit.

You like plant? asked Sally.

Before Alison could answer, Lee rolled his desk a little closer so the microphone could pick her voice up from where she was standing.

Alison nodded.  “I like many plants.”  She grabbed her bag and pulled out an apple.  After taking a small bite, she held it up for Sally to see.

Sally examined it.  No eat plants.

“I know,” Alison smiled.  “But I love plants.”

Sally wiggled her tail excitedly.  Me love Dirk.

Alison chuckled this time.  “I love Dirk too.”

A sound burst out through Sally’s blowhole that Alison’s team took to be laughter.

“Why did you laugh?” Alison asked.

Sally wiggled her tail again.  You no love Dirk.  Me love Dirk.

Alison looked curiously at Sally.  She turned slightly and glanced at Lee’s reflection in the glass, which now had Chris standing behind him.  Both men were watching.

“You love Dirk?”

Me love Dirk, she said again.  Dirk love me.

Alison looked back at Chris.  “You don’t think?”

Chris raised an eyebrow.  “I think so.”

“Is Dirk your mate, Sally?” Alison asked.

Yes.  He my mate.  I him mate.  Me love Dirk.

“Oh my goodness.” Alison said, turning back to Chris and Lee.  She made a cutting motion across her neck, signaling Lee to stop the microphone.  He quickly clicked the ‘pause’ button.  “They love each other.”

Chris picked up on her excitement.  “Are we surprised?” he asked.

“Well, no,” she replied.  “I mean, there has always been an assumption that animals experience levels of affection, but it sounds like Sally is describing something deeper.”  Alison suddenly gasped and covered her mouth.  “Oh my god.  Do you think…is it possible that they don’t just love each other, but are in love?”

Both Chris and Lee looked at each other, speechless.

We go back Alison? asked Dirk, who had joined Sally at the glass.

Lee turned the microphone back on as Alison spoke.  “Go back?  Go back where, Dirk?”

Outside.

Alison’s mood changed instantly.  She took a deep breath.  She was expecting this.  Dirk and Sally had lived at the aquarium since they were ten years old.  It had never occurred to Alison that they would be back in the ocean.  But, now it was downright inevitable after taking them out to help John Clay.

She opened her mouth to reply when Dirk spoke again.

How long stay?

Alison closed her eyes.  The question was like a dagger through her heart.  “Do you like it here?” she asked.

Yes like here,  Dirk said.  Much food.  He broke away excitedly, swam a small circle and returned.  When food?

Alison forced a smile.  Dirk was getting fed more often now that he could actually ask for food.  “You just ate, Dirk.”

Sally was still floating and watching Alison.  You sad.

“They read human emotions so easily,” Chris said, stepping up to the glass.  He placed his hand gently on her shoulder.  “While we can barely tell when Dirk is hungry.”

Alison shook her head at Lee, who paused the microphone again.  “We’re going to lose them Chris.  All because of that damn trip to help out the Navy.”  She was suddenly overwhelmed with frustration.  “It’s all Frank’s fault!  Why the hell did he have to agree to that?!  He has totally screwed us, Chris!  We’re going to lose Dirk and Sally, and that’s going to be end of this whole thing!”

“That’s not true, Alison, and you know it.  Frank could have said ‘no’, but that could have brought an end to our project even faster.  We both knew this was a risk.”  She tried to act innocent, but Chris shook his head.  “No, don’t give me that.  I know you’ve thought about it too.  We both have.  We set out to be the first humans to actually talk to another species and we have, and it’s huge!  But, neither one of us ever thought for a second that Dirk and Sally liked being in captivity.  Oh, sure, they have a good life, free food that they don’t have to hop through rings for, constant medical attention, no environmental dangers.  But, being safe doesn’t mean being happy.”  He looked back through the glass and sighed.  “The level of communication we’ve achieved with IMIS is beyond our wildest dreams, Ali.  And now we find out that Dirk and Sally don’t like living in a cage; that’s not a big surprise to either one of us.  Sad? Yes.  But, we can’t blame Frank for that, and we can’t blame the Navy either.”

Alison began to tear up and quickly wiped it away.  Chris was right, but it did not make her feel any better.  They had done something amazing and now she was going to lose them as a result.

Your friend here, said Sally.

Alison forced a smile.  “Yes, my friends are here.”

No other friend, Sally replied.  From metal.

“Oh.” Alison realized that Sally was talking about John Clay.  “No, friend not here.”

Sally laughed.

Chris squeezed Alison’s shoulder and walked back over to Lee’s desk.  He picked up his cup of coffee and looked back.  “You never know, maybe if we let them go they would come back.”

Alison frowned.

“Well, maybe once in a while,” Chris shrugged.

Me like talk Alison, Sally said.

Alison looked at Sally through red eyes.  “I like talking to you too, Sally.”

Why you wait long?

Alison laughed.  Why did it take so long for humans to talk to them?  She had to be kidding.  “We had to build a metal to help us.”

An error could be heard from Lee’s monitor.  Something did not translate correctly.  It didn’t matter.

We no talk very long time.

Alison gave a confused look.  “We haven’t talked in a long time?”

No.

“You and me?” Alison asked.

No.  People.

Alison’s jaw dropped.  Did she hear Sally right?  She turned to Chris.  “Did she just say what I think she said?”

Chris was also frozen, holding his cup just inches from his lips.

She must have meant something else.  Alison suddenly jumped when someone behind her said “Hello”.

She whirled around to find John Clay standing at the back of the room, near the rear exit.  He looked around and realized that he had either startled them or interrupted something important, or both.

“Sorry,” he motioned toward the lobby.  “The women at the front recommended I come in this way.”  He looked at Alison.  “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said.  She looked away and checked to make sure her eyes were dry.  “Just a morning full of excitement.”  She looked at Clay and saw that he looked tired.

He crossed the room and gave a short wave to Chris and Lee.  “I’m sorry to interrupt.  I’m also sorry for all the drama aboard the ship.  Things got a little…interesting.”

“I bet,” she replied, walking toward him.  “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.  I wish I could explain, but-“

“That’s okay,” she said.  “I understand.”  Alison motioned to Chris and Lee.  “We all appreciate you bringing Dirk and Sally back quickly.”

Clay smiled.  “Well, it was the least we could do after all the trouble you went to bringing them out to help us.”

He didn’t know the half of it, thought Alison.

Clay looked curiously at Sally, who seemed to be staring at all of them.  Dirk was swimming small circles around the near end of the tank.

“So, are you here on pleasure or business?” Alison asked.  “I hope you don’t expect a free pass to the aquarium.”  His hair seemed thicker and wavier than she remembered.

“Both,” Clay replied.  “I was also hoping to talk to your dolphins.  We never had a chance to ask them about our submersible.”

“Sure,” she waved him over to the tank by Lee’s desk.  She called into the microphone for Dirk.  He swam back and stopped near Sally, who was still moving gently to keep in place.  “Did you find the metal bubble?” she asked them.

Yes, Dirk answered.

“Do you remember where it is?”

Yes.  Dirk paused, as if thinking or trying to articulate.  South.  East.  After a moment, IMIS combined the words to Southeast.

“How far?” asked Alison, with a glance at Clay.

After a longer pause, Dirk replied.  Very far.  Many clicks.

She frowned.  “What is a click?”

Click is go.

Alison shook her head.  She was going to have to approach this from a different angle.  “How far is a click, Dirk?”

Dirk turned to look at the other end of the tank.  He darted off, swimming to the far end, then back to the glass in front of Alison and Clay.  Click.

“That was a click?”

Yes.

“How many clicks to the metal bubble, Dirk?”

Dirk was silent for a long moment.  Finally, he replied.  Hundred.  Eight.  Again, IMIS changed the words.  Dirk’s reply became Eight hundred.

Alison and Clay looked over at the sound of Chris dropping his cup.  He was staring at Dirk.  Clay looked down at the spilt coffee at Chris’ feet and then back at Alison.  “What happened?”

Alison looked like she had seen a ghost.  “They can count.”

Clay raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “Wow.”

“They can count,” Alison said, again to herself.  “I’ve got to sit down.”  She backed up and lowered herself onto the edge of a nearby table.

“This is big,” said Chris.  “I mean really, really big.”

“I know,” nodded Alison.  The ability to count had far reaching implications.  It indicated a depth of understanding far removed from simple hellos, and questions about feeding time.  Just the indication that they understood the difference between words and numbers was staggering.  In fact, just their understanding of words would have been incredible.  Alison was beginning to feel completely unprepared for the kind of information that Dirk and Sally were revealing to them.

Clay smiled.  “It seems I’m amazed every time I come here.”

Alison was not listening.

Clay leaned toward her.  “Not to spoil the mood, but can we ask them how deep our sub was?”

Twenty, replied Dirk.

Clay was startled.  “They can understand me too?”

Alison smirked.  “Evidently.”

Clay turned back to Dirk.  “Twenty clicks deep, Dirk?”

Yes.

“Thank you,” Clay nodded.  He looked at Dirk and Sally for a long time before turning around to the team.  “Well, I’d better-”

Near them city.

Clay suddenly stopped.  He turned back.  “What?”

Near them city.

Alison quickly stood up again.  “Did you say a city?”

Yes.

Alison looked at Clay nervously.  She wasn’t sure she wanted the next answer.  “Who’s city?”

Them.  Others.

Clay stepped closer to the glass.  “Have you been to the city, Dirk?”

Yes.

“What does it look like?”

Beautiful.

Alison, Chris, and Lee looked thoroughly confused.  They had no idea what the dolphins were talking about.  Clay did.  “How many live in the beautiful city?” he asked.

No know.

Clay thought for a moment, then pulled the silver brick out of his pocket.  He took another step closer.  “Dirk, Sally, do you know what this is?”  He held it up high.

No.

No.

Clay took a deep breath.  “Do you know why the other people are here?”

Dirk’s answer was unmistakable.  Water.

Clay put the brick down on the table and reached for his cell phone.  It had no signal.  He looked at Alison.  “I need to use your phone.”

24

Palin sat alone in the middle of a large, white room in a small metal chair, his hands cuffed behind his back.  The only exit was a single door on the far wall.  Two security cameras were perched in either corner of the ceiling.  Next to the door, a large one-way mirror served as an observation room.  He looked around the room curiously and looked up when the door opened and broke the deafening silence.

In walked a lean man, with glasses and short red hair.  He eased the door closed and then turned to Palin.  Walking across the room, the man sat down in the opposite chair, facing him.  After a moment, he spoke in a calm voice.

“Hello, Palin.  My name is Albert Keister.”

Palin did not answer.

Keister nodded, unsurprised.  “I work for the Navy and I’m here to ask you some questions.”  When Palin remained silent, he continued.  “I know you speak English.  I’ve read the report on what happened aboard our ship.  Something out of the ordinary, to say the least.”  Still nothing.  “We obviously would like to know who you are and how you did that.”

Palin still had not moved, but looked at him, unblinking.  Keister studied Palin for a long time.  This, he thought, was going to be difficult.

***

As soon as the Humvee stopped, Clay jumped out of the passenger’s seat and ran to the nondescript building, where the door was held open for him.  This time, he was quickly escorted through the security checkpoint.  He went down the elevator to the conference room where they had their group video call less than twelve hours before.  As Clay walked in, he was surprised to see Defense Secretary Miller and Security Advisor Stevas in person.  They were seated with Langford and Foster, and instinctively stood up when he entered.

Clay stopped and saluted.

Miller quickly returned the gesture and motioned to a chair at the end of the long table.  “Have a seat, Clay.”

Clay quickly sat down.

“Clay, I’d like you to tell me again exactly what you said to this Palin person and what he said to you,” Miller said.

Clay repeated the exchange while the Secretary listened intently.  When he was done, Miller gave a short nod and put his hands together, thinking.  Finally, he looked at Clay.  “I am aware of your security clearance, but nevertheless, I want to stress that nothing leaves this room.”

Clay nodded.  “Of course.”

“To begin with,” he started, “our friend does not appear to be very talkative.  Albert Keister is one of our very best interrogators and he couldn’t get a word out of him.”  Miller shrugged.  “Now we obviously need to be careful here, so we are not about to get aggressive with him.  But judging from Keister’s visit, we had better do something or we could be waiting here a very long time.”

“Yes, sir,” Clay responded.

“He has already talked to you,” Miller continued, “so to make this short and sweet, we’d like you to try talking to him.”

“Me, sir?” Clay replied, with surprise.  “I’m not really qualified-”

“These are unusual circumstances which require unusual tactics.  Besides, some of us are concerned that whatever it is we are dealing with may have the means of being weaponized.”  It was clear that Miller was referring to Stevas.  Miller looked intently at Clay.  “I know you’re not an interrogation expert, but we’re not talking about waterboarding here.  You’re a smart guy and, like I said, you have already established at least a limited level of communication with him.  We need some answers and we need them quickly.”

Clay nodded again.  “I’ll do my best sir.”

“Good,” Miller said.  “Now, what is it about these dolphins that you wanted to share?”

Clay looked uneasily around the table.  “Sir, it appears that the dolphins have made contact with whoever these people are.”  He paused at their initial reaction of surprise.  “And there may be a large number of them involved here; enough for the dolphins to refer to a city.”

Their surprise moved instantly to shock.  Stevas almost coughed his reply.  “What do you mean a city?!”

“I mean an establishment underwater, near the ring.  Maybe large enough to house hundreds.”

Miller held up his hand, cutting Stevas off.  “Are you positive about this?”

“Not positive, sir.  I repeatedly asked the dolphins, and in multiple ways.  I always got the same answer.”

“Wait just a damn minute!” shot Stevas.  “You’re telling us this revelation came from a computer that may or may not be talking to some dolphins?  Are you kidding?!”  He looked at Langford.  “Please tell me this is not your top guy!”

Langford’s eyes narrowed, but Clay replied quickly.  “Sir, I believe this communication to be real.  And that system they built is damn impressive.”

“I’m not going to base security decisions off of a fish.  We need some real intelligence here,” Stevas folded his arms and leaned back, “not messages from a computerized magic eight ball.  Jesus, Clay.”

Miller looked at Stevas and then back to Clay.  “I’m inclined to agree.  I will say that I think I believe you on this system, but we need something much more concrete.”

Langford turned to Clay.  “Did you find out where the Triton is?”

“I believe so.”  Clay considered correcting Stevas’ derogatory reference to the dolphins, but decided against it.

“Okay, we’ll arrange for whatever you need to go get it.  We need to know what that camera has on it.”

“Yes, sir,” Clay replied.  He looked around the table.  “There is something else I need to tell you.”  Everyone at the table looked at him expectantly.  “I asked the dolphins if they knew why these people were here.”  He took a deep breath.  “They said ‘water’.”

“Water?”  Miller’s eyes narrowed.  “What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure.  I wasn’t able to get much more context,” replied Clay.  “It may be that water is somehow critical to them or what they are doing.  Perhaps the ring is using the hydrogen from our water to power itself, or some other need that we don’t know about.”

Stevas frowned.  “You’re saying this is what is powering that thing?”

“Perhaps,” Clay answered.  “I spoke to Borger about it.  It’s certainly feasible.  Hydrogen atoms hold a lot of potential energy.”

Miller opened his mouth, but he was cut off by Stevas.  “That sounds like a stretch to me,” he said, shaking his head.  “This is all from these fish again, I’m assuming.”  The tone Stevas used every time he said ‘fish’ was very derogatory.

Clay nodded somewhat reluctantly.  “They evidently didn’t get that exact.”

“So, you’re telling us,” Stevas continued, “that there is a city on the bottom of the ocean and the people living in it need our water for some reason.”

“I believe-” Clay started, but was also cut off by Stevas.

“Let me tell you what I believe,” Stevas said, clearly frustrated.  “In case you have forgotten, in the last twenty-four hours, we have established that this is a portal, which is probably designed as a delivery mechanism for some kind of weapon that’s probably more advanced than anything we could build for a long time.”  Stevas’ voice grew louder as his words became more impassioned.  “And we don’t know whether that something has come through it yet!  We could be on the brink of warfare and only finding out about it now!  And,” he said, rolling his eyes, “you come to us with ‘they might need the water for something’?  You know what I say to that? Who gives a goddamn?!”  He turned and looked at Miller.  “We need to be planning defensive steps now, before it’s too late, rather than talking to these damn fish!”

Miller sat quietly, considering what Stevas had said.  Finally, he said, “I’m beginning to agree that we need to take a defensive position here.  We just don’t know anything about this thing.”  He looked at Clay.  “Even if your dolphins are right, unless it presents itself as some sort of priority, we need to focus on defense here.” Miller glanced at Stevas.  “However, that doesn’t mean we should ignore it completely.  Clay, please continue your investigation.  If you and Borger find something more on this that warrants further discussion, let us know.  But first, have a talk with our Palin friend.”

“Yes, sir,” Clay said.  “Is there anything else sir?”

Miller looked to the others before shaking his head.  “No, that will be all.  Mr. Keister is waiting for you outside.  He will brief you, and together you can take another crack.”

Clay nodded and stood up.  He promptly turned and walked to the door.

Stevas watched the door close slowly behind him before looking at Miller.  “We better do something and we better do it fast.”

“I agree,” Foster finally spoke up from across the table.

“And what exactly would we do?” Miller asked.  “We don’t even know definitively what this thing is.  Do you?!  Hell, for all I know it could be an enormous illusion.”  He looked hard at Stevas.  “Do you know something that I don’t?  Because if not, I’d like to know just what kind of action you have in mind based on the same lack of factual intelligence that I’m facing.”

Stevas hit the table with his hand.  “I’m not approaching this from an intelligence perspective.  I’m thinking that whatever this thing is built to do, it may already have done it.  We don’t know how long this ring has been down there.  All the data gathering in the world is not going to make a damn bit of difference if we wake up tomorrow under attack!  If this means you want to label me as shooting first and asking questions later, I don’t give a damn.  What scares the hell out of me right now is that we might not be here later to ask questions!”

***

Clay followed Keister into the large white room and felt a pang of sympathy when he spotted Palin.  He was not sure what arrangement he would find him in, but was somewhat regretful that he was dressed and bound like an inmate from a maximum security prison.  He noticed the video cameras as they walked across the white polished floor.  Looking at the walls, he guessed them to be soundproof.  He suspected this room was used often.

Palin watched them approach from his forced posture.  A look of acceptance could be seen in his eyes for he did not struggle.  In fact, Clay thought, his body did not seem to move in the slightest.

Both men took a seat in front of Palin, with Clay sitting slightly off to his right.  He was surprised to see Palin looking at him rather than Keister.

Keister noticed this and gave a slight nod to Clay, giving him permission to start with the questions and tactics he had outlined.  Questions were one thing, but the correct phrasing, context and words used were critical.

Clay leaned forward and cleared his throat.  “Are you alright?” he asked.

Palin looked at Clay for a long moment.  His expression seemed to soften slightly.  “Uncomfortable,” he said slowly, “but not unexpected.”

“Is there anything we can get you?” Clay asked.

Palin slowly shook his head.

Keister wrote something onto a pad of paper and showed it to Clay.  It read start with name.  Before Clay could speak Palin said, “My name is Palin.”  Both Clay and Keister looked at each other.

Just Palin.  Okay.  Clay turned back to him and asked, “How did you get on board our ship?”

Again, Palin did not answer right away.  “A doorway was created,” he finally said, slowly.

Clay waited for more information, but did not get it.  Palin merely sat calmly, staring at him.  “What kind of a doorway?”

“An energy doorway.”

Clay smirked at the short answers.  Why did he think that Palin would deliver some great monologue?  “An energy doorway,” he repeated.  “An energy doorway to where?”

“From,” he corrected.

“From where?” Clay said.

“The doorway was created from our settlement.”

“And where is your settlement?” asked Clay.

Palin gave Clay a look of vague amusement.  He cocked his head slightly, as one might do when asking someone else if they were serious.  “You already know the answer to this question, yes?”

“The bottom of the ocean?”

Palin nodded.

“Are you human?” Clay asked.

“Yes.”

Clay looked at Keister and then down to his notebook.  He had no more messages for Clay written on it.  Instead, he continued watching Palin intently.  No doubt for the more subtle body movements.  Clay wondered how much body language Keister could get when Palin was handcuffed with both arms behind his back.  “So,” he continued, “you are human but you are using a technology which appears to be beyond anyone else’s capabilities.”

“Anyone else?” Palin questioned.

Clay raised his eyebrows and shrugged.  “Countries, governments, anyone else on the planet.  No one to our knowledge is capable of doing what you did.  What nationality are you?”

Another trace of amusement curled the side of Palin’s mouth.  “None.”

“No nationality,” Clay repeated.  He thought a moment.  “How many people are in this settlement of yours?”

“Twelve hundred.”

Clay shot Keister another glance.  “Twelve hundred.  That does not sound like a large settlement.”

“It is not,” Palin replied.  After some hesitancy, he added, “That is all that is left.”

Clay frowned in confusion.  “What do you mean ‘all that is left’?”

Palin inhaled deeply.  He appeared conflicted over what he was sharing, and Clay wondered why he was choosing to reveal this information at all.  He didn’t think it was fear.  Palin had to know that they were not about to harm him.

Palin spoke carefully.  “We are all that remains of a very old group.”

“What group is that?” asked Clay.  “Do you mean a lineage?”  Clay suddenly thought how bizarre this was beginning to sound.

“We are an old group but have not been here very long.”

These answers were becoming increasingly cryptic.  Clay sat watching Palin.  After several moments, Keister looked over to see if he was going to continue.  Clay abruptly asked, “What is the ring for?”

Palin breathed in again.  “It is a very large doorway.”

“Another doorway,” Clay mused.  “And where does this very large door go?  What is on the other side?”

“Home.”

“Where is home?”

Palin hesitated, but gave in.  “A nearby planet.”

Clay could not believe what he was hearing.  If this were true, an awful lot of science theory was about to become science fact.  “Your home is a nearby planet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“But you are human,” Clay said, pointing out the contradiction.  Clearly, he could not be human if he were from another planet.  He remembered Wong pointing out on the video call that the odds of an extraterrestrial evolving into the same human form were effectively zero.

“I am human.”

Clay frowned.  “I have it on good authority that humans are exclusive to Earth,” he said, with a touch of sarcasm.

Palin’s smirk returned.  “And who’s authority would that be?”

An expert, Clay thought.  Actually, a supposed expert that I met less than twenty-four hours ago on a giant monitor.  He decided against a debate.

“How long have you been here?”

“Sixty years.”

“Sixty years?  And doing what?”

Palin did not respond.

Clay made a mental note to relax and leaned back slightly.  “So you are human but from a different planet?”

Palin nodded.

Keister spoke up.  “How can you be human and an alien?”

Palin looked at Keister, almost politely, but slowly turned back to Clay.  “There is more to evolution than you have yet learned, especially that which is carbon based.”

Clay leaned forward again.  “Are you saying that the human form is a common result of evolution?”

“Carbon based evolution,” Palin corrected.

“So,” Keister said, “planets with carbon life eventually develop human beings?”

Palin looked curiously at Keister.  He nodded his head.  “Carbon DNA contains characteristics that affect common, but not precise, evolutionary outcomes; generally things like four limbs, two eyes, internal respiratory systems, five senses, and in some cases, larger brains.  Survivability is always the priority.”  Palin looked back to Clay.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“We are visiting.”

Clay smiled on the inside.  He was certain that Palin had just lied to him.  “Visiting for what, exactly?”

Palin gave an almost imperceptible shrug.  The most he could manage with his hands bound, Clay suspected.  “We are observers.”  Palin’s tone seemed to shorten.

“What was your man doing on our ship?” Keister asked.

Palin gave Keister an expressionless answer.  “Observing.”

Clay was watching Palin closely.  They were losing him.  He was going to have to be more direct.  “What is the ring for?”

“It is how we came here.”

Clay nodded.  “It’s awfully big.”  Again, Palin remained quiet.  His body language, at least what Clay could detect, was changing.  He was quickly becoming uncomfortable.  He locked his eyes on Palin’s.  “It looks large enough to bring something else through, something very big.”

Palin stared at Clay.  After a long silence, he suddenly pushed his chair back, signaling that he was done with the conversation.

25

Kathryn Lokke sat in the C130 airplane, bundled tightly in her thick parka.  Her hood was raised up, barely fitting over the bulky headphones which allowed her to talk to the flight crew.  A quick shiver ran down from her shoulders.  She counted back the years since she had been in this kind of weather and temperature.  Peering down through the side window, she watched the white surface of Antarctica speed beneath them as the plane headed for the main base at McMurdo.

The plane slowly pitched forward as the pilots began their descent.  As the plane sank closer to the ground, Kathryn could see four giant supply tanks on the far end of the base, beyond the hundred or so buildings surrounding the three airfields.  In the far distance, she could make out the distant harbor with two big supply ships which sat motionless in the dark grey water.  Even further still was a thin line extending into the distance, the McMurdo road to the South Pole.

The plane came in low over the white runway and gently touched down.  Kathryn and the thirty-four researchers behind her sat forward and began gathering their things.  The plane taxied off the runway and stopped in front of a small terminal building.  Bags were grabbed and the passengers shuffled out and down the stairs.  Several large vans were waiting to receive them and everyone scattered to the nearest vehicle, throwing their bag up into the roof rack and quickly jumping inside the heated interiors.

Once loaded, all of the vehicles headed out in a single file line, driving half a mile to a tall nondescript hangar.  A large door opened as they approached.  All seven vehicles drove inside and parked.  The door was quickly closed behind them.

Kathryn climbed out of the lead van and stepped down onto the building’s smooth concrete floor.

“Dr. Lokke?” asked a man approaching from the center of the hangar.  His accent was distinctly New Zealand.  “I’m Steven Anderson,” he said, extending his hand.

Kathryn slipped off her glove and shook it.  “Hi, Steven.  We meet at last,” she replied with a smile.  “Thanks for all your team’s help on this.”

“Ah, our pleasure,” Anderson nodded.  “That ice quake scared the daylights out of us too.  Besides,” he turned his head, motioning behind him, “it’s nice to have the company.”

She turned and waved her staff over.

“Well, the good news,” Anderson said, “is that you’ve got the best weather possible.  Should have clear skies for the next six or seven days.  Probably get all the way up to minus 5 or 6 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“What a relief,” moaned Jason Haines, walking up behind Kathryn.  Jason was one of the newest and youngest geologists to join the USGS.  He had been there just thirteen months, yet was one of the first to volunteer for the trip.

She introduced the two and waited for the others.  His team had assembled the two dozen snowmobiles and arranged for the transport planes that would drop the researchers, and all of their supplies, at the Ronne Ice Shelf.  Anderson’s team would act as their guides.

Anderson went over the plan, explaining how Kathryn and her team would split up into ten groups.  They would then try to cover the length of the massive slide in five days, getting as much information as possible.  At the end of the five days, they would have exact measurements on the extent of the slide, strata samplings for subsurface composition and density, any signs of lateral slide, and a host of other pieces of data.  If all went well, it would arm Kathryn with enough hard data to show the White House just how dangerous this situation was.

Jason Haines, still standing next to Kathryn, raised his hand with a question.  Anderson nodded and Haines spoke up.  “How often are we to be in contact?”

Anderson spoke up to make sure he was heard by everyone.  “Communication will be constant.”  He motioned to several of his team members standing behind him.  “As you know, each team of three will be accompanied by a guide.  My men know the area well and are as comfortable in these conditions as anyone can be, if you want to call it comfortable.”  Anderson’s accent projected a friendly tone.  But he, and all of the men, had a hardened look that was all business.  “A small supply outpost will be located on the shelf in a central location.  Your guides will be talking to them every fifteen minutes with coordinates and a team status.  It does not take long out here to freeze to death, so do not get lost.  If any team is not heard from for more than twenty minutes, a reconnaissance crew will be dispatched immediately, and they will begin trying to reestablish contact while in transit.”  Anderson paused for just a moment to make sure everyone was listening.  He reminded Kathryn of a sergeant explaining a detailed exercise to his unit.  “As soon as they reestablish contact, they will turn around and head back to the outpost.  If they do not reestablish contact, they will be to you within 30 minutes.  If you see us coming across the ice, stop and wave your arms as high as you can.  It can be very hard to see, even with a very small amount of haze.”  He looked over the small group.  “Next question?”

Another of Kathryn’s team raised their hand, a woman named Ruppa Tadri, one of her best seismologists.  She looked around shyly.  “What if we need some…privacy?”

Anderson smiled.  “This is the Antarctic.  If you get lost and fall down a hole, you may be dead before we find the hole.  Believe me, you do not want privacy!”  A nervous laugh ran through the group.  “Don’t be shy, ladies and gentlemen.  You may feel a little embarrassed at first, but it is far more important that we can see you at all times.”  He paused again before continuing.  “The good news is that we have excellent weather this week.  If the wind is calm, we will provide a small round tent for anyone feeling particularly self-conscious.  And let me answer what is likely your next question.  Dig a deep hole and bury it.  You can use this.”  Anderson held up a small mountain climbing pick.  “You will all have one of these and we will give you some basic instructions.  I guarantee you will find this to be your best friend during your time on the Shelf.”  Anderson smiled again.  “Next question?”

After another twenty minutes of questions and answers, Anderson led the team out the side of the hangar to another building a couple hundred yards away.  The mess hall was anything but a mess hall.  The dining area was over twenty thousand square feet and held dozens of comfortable chairs and tables.  On the far side of the room was a large viewing area with four satellite televisions, surrounded by almost as many couches.  Half of the room was a giant sunroom decorated with many different kinds of plants from all over the world.  If Kathryn’s team was surprised at the dining area, they were stunned by the meals that came out of the kitchen.  They included salads loaded with fresh greens and vegetables, all grown locally in one of the McMurdo’s large hydroponic gardens.  There was even fresh fruit from hydroponic citrus trees.  This was clearly the hub of the station.

Tadri approached Kathryn with an empty plate.  She was on her way back to the kitchen for seconds.  “Kathryn, aren’t you going to eat anything?”

“Huh?  Oh right,” Kathryn replied absently.  She realized that she had been thinking so much about the next several days that she was still standing in the same place, holding her plate.

“Are you alright?” Tadri asked.

“Oh…yes.  Thanks.  I’m just thinking about everything.”

Tadri smiled.  “Well, try to take a break.  We have to be up at four a.m.”

She was right.  Kathryn had to find a way to stop obsessing.  They were barely going to get enough sleep as it was before an early morning breakfast and airlift.  The last thing she needed was to be up half the night before heading into one of the toughest weeks she would have in years.

She patted Tadri on the arm and followed her into the kitchen.

***

The next morning after a large breakfast, Kathryn’s team assembled and boarded three of the same C130 aircraft they had arrived on.  Each plane had been packed with three teams and their supplies.  The last plane, which Kathryn was on, held a fourth team.  Thirty minutes after boarding, the planes were airborne and headed for the ice shelf.  The team members huddled together for warmth next to their bags and supplies, which sat in front of eight large snowmobiles. Through the window, the sun was slowly rising from the horizon, where it remained during the night, low yet always in daylight during Antarctica’s summer months.

Kathryn looked around at the faces of her team.  She was surprised to see an edge on their faces that they did not have the day before.  Probably the acceptance that they were here now and there was no turning back.  She felt a sense of pride that many of her researchers had volunteered to come when they heard the White House’s, or more specifically, the National Security Advisor Stevas’ response to her warning.

After a long two hours, she felt the familiar dip of the plane’s nose signaling a descent.  The other two planes banked in opposite directions, heading west and east to drop their teams further along the wide fissure.

Kathryn’s plane landed with a hard thud on the ice shelf which was flatter than the area closer to the crack.  They came to a stop and the propellers slowed to an idling speed.  Anderson’s men threw open the door and rolled a ladder outward for the exiting team.  At the rear of the fuselage, they unlocked and opened a large custom door, which allowed them to slide the snowmobiles out and down a steep ramp.  Next, were the food, bags, and fuel, which also slid down the ramp with a hard thud.  Kathryn’s guide was a large man named Andrew with light hair who, judging from his tattoos, appeared to be ex-military.  He jumped out and helped pull the equipment out.  Andrew gave a thumbs-up to the other crewmembers onboard and pulled the large sled of equipment toward one of the snowmobiles.  Kathryn, Tadri, and their third member, Pierre, climbed down the metal folding ladder.  Once their feet touched the ice, the ladder was quickly retracted back up into the open door behind them.  They ran to Andrew who had clipped the supplies to the back of one of the snowmobiles with a large metal clasp.

Andrew climbed on and motioned to Kathryn, who got on behind him.  Pierre and Tadri climbed on the second snowmobile and both men started the engines.  As Andrew led them away, the doors on the plane were closed.  Less than a minute later, the engines roared back to life and the C130 began rolling forward.

As they sped toward the edge of the ice shelf, Kathryn looked back over her shoulder at Pierre and Tadri, then at the plane in the distance, which had just lifted back up into the air.  From the time it touched down, the entire drop-off had taken less than ten minutes.  She hoped the others would go as smoothly.

26

President Carr stood in the White House conference room, facing the large monitor with his arms folded across his chest.  He watched the video of Keister and Clay speaking with Palin.  Behind him, around the large table, sat Stevas, Miller, Langford, Clay, Keister and his military chiefs.  The video ended with Palin scooting his chair back.  The screen came to an abrupt end, frozen on the last frame of the video.  Carr remained staring at the picture as the room fell silent.  He slowly began shaking his head.  “What in the hell are we dealing with here?” he said, turning around.  Carr leaned forward, putting his hands on the table.  “I mean, Jesus,” he raised his voice, “do we even know whether this man is a friend or not?!”  He looked around the table.  “Well?!”

Stevas spoke up.  “We need to assume not.”  He continued when the President looked at him.  “We cannot be sure of anything, which means we have to assume the worst.  This ring is huge, far larger than they would need to bring just a thousand people through.  I don’t believe for a minute that they have been here long.  I think they came through and got caught before they could bring whatever comes through next!”

“So you’re saying what then?” asked the President.

“I’m saying we need to take action while we still can.”

“And what kind of action are we talking about?”

Stevas glanced around the room.  “We destroy the damn thing.”

Clay looked at Langford, who managed to remain completely still.

“Destroy the ring?” asked Miller, sitting across from him.

Stevas nodded.  “Shut down the portal.  Destroy it and by doing so, we cut them off.”

Clay could not believe his ears.  He looked at the military brass at the end of the table, and they seemed as un-phased as Langford.  Was Clay the only one who thought Stevas had just gone off the deep end?

“Just like that?” replied Miller.

“That’s right,” Stevas said, looking back to the President.  “Look, we have to be preemptive here.  If we do it right, we close down any possibility they have to attack us and, with luck, we trap them here as leverage.”  The President did not answer.  He was considering Stevas’ point.  “At the very least that buys us time.”

Miller frowned. “Time for what?”

“To prepare, in case they come back.  A defense, for Christ sake!”

Miller remained skeptical.  “Wait a minute, how do they come back if we destroy this thing on our end?”

Stevas looked surprised by the question.  He clearly did not have an answer.  In fact, Clay wondered if he had even considered that.  How could the President be listening to this man?  Clay cleared his throat and everyone in the room turned to him.

“Excuse me,” he said slowly.  “But I think we may be overlooking some things here.”  Stevas gave him a cold stare, but Clay ignored him and asked the question anyway.  “Surely we don’t believe they would be incapable of returning if we destroyed the ring.  After all, they got here before without a ring on this side.  We don’t know how they would, but if they did come back, shouldn’t we expect them to be a little…upset?”

Stevas’ stare grew even colder.

“And shouldn’t we be concerned at the ramifications of destroying this portal?”

Stevas looked hard at Clay when he replied.  “Our experts don’t think there will be any negative side effects.  We’re just pulling the plug.”

Miller broke in.  “Who?  Who doesn’t think so?”

Stevas turned to Miller with a slow and deliberate reply.  “Experts.”

Langford looked at Stevas. “And how are you envisioning we destroy this ring?”

The Naval chief, Bruce Bishop, leaned forward at the other end of the table.  “Subs.”  Everyone turned to Bishop.  “We can have the ring surrounded with two dozen Trident submarines inside of twenty-four hours.”

Clay’s heart sank.  This sounded like something that had already been planned out, and they were now just trying to sound objective for formality.

“They probably have some kind of defense, so launching a large number of torpedoes gives us the best chance of getting through.  The intent is to do just enough damage to stop it from spinning.”

Everyone turned to the President who had remained quiet.  He looked down, thinking, and finally raised his head.  “Any other opinions?”

Clay had to keep himself from jumping out of his chair.  “Uh…yes, sir,” he said, raising his hand.  “How about not doing that?”  It was not meant to be funny, but Clay could see Langford’s smirk out of the corner of his eye.  Clay looked at the others.  “I don’t understand.  We know virtually nothing about this man, or these people, yet we are willing to start a war because we think they are going to attack us?”

“Tell me, Mr. Clay,” said the President as he straightened, “how would you explain yourself to the country, to the world, if you are wrong?  How would you explain it to them if we are attacked and you did nothing with what little time you had available?”

In his mind, the chance of an imminent attack was low, and based on virtually no information.  In fact, the information Stevas chose to cite was handpicked from everything else they knew.  He denied the claim on how long they had been here, but he happily accepted as fact that the portal was from another planet.  He would not accept the idea that they were here for a more benign reason, but he certainly accepted that there was a small number of them.  He was choosing specific items to make his case and throwing out the rest, all while using everyone’s fear of the small chance he was right.  Clay suspected he simply wanted to attack, but why?

“Mr. President,” Langford interrupted, putting a cautious hand on the table next to Clay’s.  “I think what John is getting at here is to remind us that we make the best decisions when we have the most accurate information.  In this case, we have very little information, which means any decision we make now could easily be a bad one.”

“Sir,” Clay continued, “a lot of our information to date suggests there may be other possibilities here, and not all necessarily dangerous.”

“Which means what?” Stevas chided from across the table.  “We give them the benefit of the doubt?”

Neither Langford nor Clay even bothered to look at Stevas.  Instead, they kept their attention on the President.  “Not the benefit of the doubt, sir, just time to gather more information and make the best decision possible.”

“Alright,” said the President.  “Then get me some more information.”

“Yes, sir,” Langford replied.

“I presume you’re referring to this remote sub of yours?” he asked.

Langford nodded.  “We think it may hold significantly more information on it.”

“Do we know where it is?” the President asked.

Langford looked at Clay, who nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

The President leaned forward again onto the table, leveling his gaze directly at Clay.  “Then go get it!”

27

The K-955 submersible was the smallest and fastest submarine in the Navy.  Designed primarily for research and recovery, the small craft housed a maximum of four people, which left two empty seats behind Clay and Caesare.  Together inside, they ran through a complete systems check.  The water from outside sloshed up over the forward window while they bobbed back and forth on the surface of the Caribbean Sea.

Several miles from where they were hoping to find the Triton II was as far as Captain Emerson was willing to get with the Pathfinder.  He could not believe it when he read his instructions from the Pentagon that Clay and Caesare were headed back out.  Emerson and his crew barely had time to accept the transfer of the K-955 from a sister ship before the helicopter dropped the two men back onto his foredeck.  He greeted them by simply shaking his head.

Navy SEALs, including ex-SEALs, had a reputation for being a little crazy.  Clay expected they had just that reputation in Emerson’s mind.  He looked to his right, where Caesare was holding a manual, and verifying the locations of the various instruments.  “How does your side look?”

Caesare shrugged.  “Good.  Pretty straight forward, actually.”  He looked to the left side.  “How about you?”

Clay nodded. “Not bad.” He gripped the control stick in front of him.  “Stick will take a little getting used to.”

“We’ve got,” Caesare looked back over his shoulder at a digital read-out behind them, “a full charge, which should give us about a twenty to thirty mile range.”  He looked forward again.  “We also have full oxygen which should last well beyond that, especially without two more sets of lungs behind us.  I think we’re about ready.”

Clay reached up and tested the hatch seal by trying to turn the large metal wheel.  He then moved the microphone on his headset closer to his mouth.  “Pathfinder, this is ‘Saint Bernard.’”

“Go ahead, Saint Bernard,” came Tay’s voice through their headphones.

“We are checked out and ready to launch,” Clay said.

“Roger that.  Release at will.”

With a quick nod, Clay reached up to a large red handle above them and wrapped his hand through.  “Releasing now,” he said, and pulled down hard.  There was only a slight dip when the sub detached from the arm, since it was already floating on the surface under its own buoyancy.  The sub began to roll to the right just as Caesare engaged the main motor, giving it instant propulsion and causing the roll to correct itself.  As the small sub surged forward, the waves that were lapping across the front, bubbled window suddenly rushed up and over the top, causing the front to dip slightly.  Clay kept his right hand on the stick and slowly inched it forward, increasing their speed.  He then lowered the small flaps on the tail, which increased their dive angle, and the K-955 smoothly slipped below the surface.

“Feels good,” remarked Clay.

“Good,” said Caesare, looking down at his notebook.  “We need a heading of 131 degrees.”

Clay turned until the directional indicator matched.

“At this rate,” continued Caesare, “we should reach the bottom in about eight minutes.”

The bottom of the Caribbean Sea, or at least this part of it, was rather boring.  As many of the coral reefs passed beneath them, so did vast stretches of white fields of sand.  Past ninety feet deep, Caesare activated the ultra-bright LEDs, ringing the front of the sub so they could see further in front of them.  The K-955 skimmed over several shelves, which dropped below into patches of dark coral and more of the large fields of sand.

Thirty minutes later, something appeared on the small green screen in front of Caesare.  “Looks like we have a large object a few degrees off to port.  About three hundred yards ahead.”

Clay gave a gentle turn and inched off the throttle, allowing the sub to slow.  He continued forward at a reduced speed, and eased up completely as the object got closer and closer to the center of Caesare’s screen.

“Just about on it…” he said slowly.  “Okay, reverse throttle and stop.”

The tiny sub slowed to a gentle stop.  Both men looked forward through the small bubble, peering closely at the sandy bottom.  Several patches of green plant life poked up and were scattered randomly around them.  They slowly waved back and forth in the ocean’s gentle current.  Clay gave the stick a tiny tap and inched the craft forward.

Caesare stretched to look out to the side.  “We should be right on top of it.”

“I see something,” said Clay.  “He dipped the front forward and pushed a button, which forced a strong burst of current out from just beneath the sub’s belly.  The current pushed a large amount of sand and soil away, but caused a cloud to temporarily envelop the area.  They waited patiently as it dispersed.  Just below them was a very large and rusted metal anchor.”

“Crap.”  Caesare leaned back in his seat.  “We’re oh for four.”

“Well, on the bright side, at least the Triton should be easy to spot,”  Clay said.  “Even if it drove itself head first into the sand, it should still be sticking out like a sore thumb.”

“What a relief,” Caesare said sarcastically, as he wiped off some condensation from the window in front of him.  “You know-” he was suddenly cut off when their sub rocked from side to side.  “What was that?”

Clay shook his head.  “I don’t know.”  He leaned forward and looked out the window at the brightly lit sand.

“Are we in a cross current?”

Clay frowned.  “At this depth, I doubt it.”  Outside the sub, the sand remained still.  The small cloud created by the sub a few minutes earlier had almost completely settled.  Their sub rocked again, harder.

“Whoa!” Caesare said, bracing himself against the side window and ceiling of the sub.  He and Clay looked at each other.  “Are you sure?”

Clay was puzzled.  He grabbed the handle of the forward exterior light and rotated it around in front of them.  He spotted some coral ahead, and inched the sub forward.  The sub glided to within fifty feet of coral reef, covered by a variety of plant life, some of which were long tendril shaped flutes jutting up from the rock base.  “Look.”

Caesare followed his gaze through the front window and out to the plants beyond.  “They’re barely moving.”

“Exactly.”

“Strange.”  Caesare looked out the side window and back behind them.  Maybe we’re in some kind of channel.  He turned back around when the small green screen beeped again.  Another object was showing on the radar-like screen.  “Got another one.  Could this be lucky number five?”

They sped up and glided over the coral, then down the other side and across another patch of sand.

“A few degrees north,” Caesare said.

Ahead, a larger ridge of coral rose above the sand, which Clay skirted and angled away to starboard.  Something in the distance reflected the sub’s bright light, which prompted Clay to ease up on the stick.  “This one isn’t buried,” he said.  As they neared, the object became brighter, indicating a highly reflective material or a relatively clean surface.

“Looks about the right size.”

“It sure does.”  Clay let off the stick again to let the water slow the sub’s speed to a crawl.  After several more seconds, the unmistakable shape of the Triton II materialized in front of them, with its nose deep in the sand.

“Thar she blows!” declared Caesare.

Clay nodded.  “Thank god.  I was beginning to have my doubts.”  Something occurred to him and he turned to Caesare.  “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ll be headed back tonight!”

“No,” Clay said, “the dolphins were right.  We found it…” He looked at the GPS coordinates, “And it’s not more than a quarter mile from where they said it was.  This validates the team’s translation system.”

“That’s true,” Caesare nodded.  “Wait,” he said, with a raised eyebrow.  “Did somebody claim it didn’t work?”

“I forgot to tell you that part.”  Clay inched up to the Triton and pulled back on the stick to stop them completely.  “Stevas tried pretty hard to discredit them.  It seems their information didn’t necessarily mesh with his larger view.”

“You’re kidding.  What did he say?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t repeat the conversation.  Let’s just say that he is aggressively considering our options.”

Caesare shook his head.  “How did that guy ever make it to that position?  Makes me really doubt the system sometimes.”  He turned on another set of lights, flooding the area directly below, and grabbed the handle of their craft’s articulating arm.  He gave Clay a smile.  “Shall we make our pickup?”

Slowly, from underneath the submersible, a long articulating arm unfolded and extended outward.  Caesare controlled it from inside the sub, his fingers wrapped around and through the complex handle.  The thin metal arm stretched out in front of the window, reaching for the Triton sitting silently in the sand.

“Easy does it,” Caesare mumbled to himself.

Clay kept his hand steady on the stick, trying to maintain perfect buoyancy and keep the sub as still as possible.

The long, crab-shaped claw on the end of the arm approached the rear end of the Triton.  Caesare slowly twisted his handle, which caused the claw to twist in the same direction.  He pushed it forward again and tried to loop the larger half of the claw under the Triton’s propeller.  After several attempts, he finally managed to wrap the claw up through a small gap near the rear-stabilizing fin.  Tightening his grip caused the claw to close and grab the Triton’s tail.  Very slowly, he pulled on the handle, simultaneously retracting the metal arm.  The Triton did not move.  Caesare pulled harder, careful not to loosen his grip.  The Triton still did not move.

Clay continued watching his instruments and tried to keep the K-955 still.

“Damn,” said Caesare, “this thing really managed to burrow itself in.”  He pulled harder and finally the sand surrounding the buried end of Triton began to move.  More of the sand fell away and the Triton came free.  The rest of the sand slowly fell away as it slid out.

“Nice,” said Clay.  “Now bring it in and we-” suddenly, their sub shook violently and a powerful surge sent them and the sub smashing into the mound of sand.  “What the hell?!”  Clay struggled to regain control.  He pulled back on the stick, reversing the motor, but the craft was dragging backward.  Clay looked out and then up through a small window on top.  “What the hell is wrong with our buoyancy?”  He looked at the instruments.  “Are we taking in water?”  Clay was referring to the K-955’s buoyancy tanks, which filled with water to increase the sub’s underwater weight and allow it to descend.  To rise, the pilot would inject high-pressure air into the tanks, forcing some of the heavy water out and increasing the craft’s buoyancy.  Neutral buoyancy was a combination of air and water that provided the perfect weight and allowed the craft to remain at a desired level.  Clay had suddenly lost control of it.  He could barely move the sub, which now felt stuck to the sandy bottom.  He pushed a button above the control stick, increasing the air and decreasing their weight.  The hiss of the high-pressure air could be heard from below, and outside the cockpit.

Caesare quickly shifted from side to side as they hit the ground and rolled sideways.  He tried to brace himself with his only free hand, the other still on the articulating arm’s handle.  He was trying desperately not to lose his grip on the Triton, which was bobbing back and forth like a huge fish trying to escape his clutch.  His forearm tightened while he squeezed as hard as he could.

Clay jammed the control stick back and forth, trying to keep the craft from dragging.  They were becoming more buoyant, but it was too slow.  Something above caught Clay’s eye.  He looked up into the darkened water, the sunlight from above now only a dull pinpoint far above them.  He kept looking until he saw it again.  “This isn’t a current,” he said to Caesare.  “I think we have company.”

“What?!”  Caesare twisted his head, trying unsuccessfully to look through the small window above.  “What is it?!”

“I don’t know,” said Clay.  Again, they were suddenly slammed back against the ocean bottom.  The K-955 groaned under the impact, with a loud metal reverberation behind them.  He looked up again just as a giant shadow passed above them.  “Whatever it is, it’s big.”

“We’ve got to get out of here.”  Caesare looked at Clay.  “Do we drop the Triton?”

“No way.”  Clay’s eyes narrowed.  “I’m not going down for this thing again.  Hold on!”  He pushed the stick forward and slammed his other hand down on the button, pushing more water out of the tanks in a loud rush of pressurized air.  Almost immediately, the sub bounced up from the sand.  The motor whirled at full throttle sending up a cloud behind them.  The K-955 zipped forward, its nose pointed to the surface.

Something hit the sub, this time, causing it to roll hard to one side.  Clay quickly rolled against it to compensate and managed to level them back out, his hand still jamming the stick as far forward as possible.

“Oh my god,” said Caesare, looking out the side window.  “It’s a sperm whale!”

“Here?  Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding,” Caesare said, with a pause.  “And there are two of them!”

Clay practically leaned on the stick, trying to get every last ounce of speed from the sub’s motors.

“They’re coming at us!” yelled Caesare.

Suddenly, the K-955 was slammed sideways, causing it to roll completely over.  Clay tried to counter the movement, but realized that the roll had too much momentum.  He instead moved the stick back, allowing them to roll with the impact.  As they came around, he compensated again and managed to keep them on an upward course.

“Clay,” Caesare said quietly.

“You don’t have to whisper, Steve.  They’re not going to hear you,” Clay replied, looking at their depth gauge.  They were still almost eighty feet from the surface.

“Clay,” Caesare said, again.

Clay looked at Caesare, who was staring at him.  He turned to show Clay the side window.  Clay’s eyes opened wide when he saw the huge dent in the side of the hull.  What was far more critical, however, was the crack in the window, with water streaming down the inside wall.  It was a major leak that would scare anyone, even at a shallow depth.  The strength of the hull was seriously compromised, and the thick Plexiglas window was ruptured.  If it collapsed entirely, their inside pressure would be lost and the torrent of incoming sea water would drown them within seconds.  Clay and Caesare both knew their only hope was in that tiny window holding together.  They also knew that they would not survive another impact.

Clay looked back at Caesare. “Blow the tanks.”

Caesare flipped up a clear cover and slammed his fist against the large emergency button labeled ‘Emergency Discharge’.  The sub shook violently as four charges exploded, and the large buoyancy tanks instantly jettisoned from the hull, falling outward.  Losing the extra weight of the tanks, along with the upward force of the charges accelerated the sub’s ascent again and they rose toward the surface.  The explosion caused the leak in the window to open wider, sending in a much larger flood of water.  It quickly inched up past their shins.  Caesare looked down, quickly switching hands to maintain his grip on the Triton.  “We’d better hurry.”

Clay was glancing back and forth between their depth gauge and the bright blue water above.  The large shadow of Emerson’s Pathfinder could be seen overhead.  The sub quickly passed fifty feet and continued to race toward the surface.

Caesare looked repeatedly through the remaining windows.  “I can’t see them!”  He tried to look through the broken window but could not make out anything through the distortion.  “No idea where they are.”

Clay stared at the gauge and noticed their ascent beginning to slow.

Caesare saw something was wrong.  “What is it?”

“We’re slowing,” Clay said.  “The incoming water is increasing our weight again.”

Caesare unbuckled himself and slid out of his seat, still maintaining a grip on the handle in front of him.  He twisted past Clay and reached into the rear of the cockpit.  He felt back and forth below the water.  “No oxygen tanks.”  He knew they could not open the top hatch until they reached the surface since the ocean water would make it far too heavy to push up.  Hell, even if they could, they would drown under the massive deluge of water which would make the cracked window look like a trickle.

The sub’s upward momentum continued to slow as it passed forty feet and the incoming water reached their laps.

***

Above them, in the communications room of the Pathfinder, Captain Emerson and several of his crew were huddled around a large sonar display.  The speakerphone was on, transmitting everything Clay and Caesare were saying.

“They’re slowing,” Tay said.  He was sitting in the chair in front of Emerson.

“How fast are they moving?”

“About ten feet per minute, but slowing fast.”

“Anything else they can jettison?” Emerson asked.

Tay shook his head.  “Not from the inside.”

Another crewmember stood to the side, urgently searching through the K-955’s heavy manual.

Emerson stood up and turned to Lightfoot, who was standing just behind him.  “We have to do something.”

Lightfoot stared at the captain who motioned outside.  “Yes, sir!”  With that, they both quickly darted out of the room and ran toward the back of the ship.

***

The water inside the sub was at chest level and rising fast, as the increasing amount of water filled the quickly shrinking space in the cockpit.

Tay’s voice crackled over the speaker.  “Guys, it looks like there should be spare breathers built into a side panel of your seats!”  Tay leaned over and looked at the manual being held by his crewmember.  “On the right side.”

Caesare switched hands again on the large handle and reached around to examine his seat.  Only able to feel the tip, he slid his hand up and down beneath the water, feeling for a clasp.  He found a lip in the metal and quickly pulled it up.  The panel flipped only partially open, due to the volume of the water around it.  Caesare reached back, yanked it off, and felt inside.  He gripped the small metal canister and wiggled it out.  The small pony tank was approximately twelve inches long and had a green rubber mouthpiece on top.  Caesare handed it to Clay and quickly extracted the second bottle from Clay’s seat.

“Where are the whales?”

Caesare looked out through the two windows still above the waterline.  “Can’t see them over here.”  He looked at Clay.  “What’s the plan?”

Clay frowned.  He desperately pushed a few times on the stick.  There was nothing left.  The twin motors were at maximum propulsion, trying to push them forward against the increasing weight of the sub.  “We’re barely moving.  This is as far as we’re going to get.”  He looked at the gauge.  “Twenty-one feet.”  Clay looked up through the top window.  The huge shadow of the Pathfinder loomed over them.  He looked at Caesare and held up his tiny oxygen tank.  “Well, these should give us,” he shrugged, “ten minutes?  If we wait for the water to fill the cockpit and equalize the pressure, we should be able to get the hatch open and make a swim for it.”

Caesare’s chin dipped into the water when he nodded.  “That was the only thing I could think of.  You go out firs-”  He suddenly stopped talking when he noticed Clay staring at something over his shoulder.  He turned and looked out through what was left of the side window.  Two large shapes were approaching.  At that moment, they felt a sensation and looked up at the depth gauge.  The weight of the sub had overcome the strength of the propellers.  The K-955 began sliding back down.  The gauge increased to twenty-two feet, then twenty-three, and twenty-four.  It was quickly falling downward.

Caesare looked back out the window.  The whales were getting closer.  “What in the hell is their problem?!”

They both knew that they could not open the hatch unless the entire cockpit was filled with water.  With the water rising quickly, that would not take long, but the whales would reach them first.  Even if they could survive another impact, the sub was now descending fast enough that by the time they were able to get outside, they would be too far down to make it to the surface.  That is, unless they wanted a fatal case of the bends.

Clay looked at his friend.  “This may be it.”

Caesare gave a silent nod.  They both tilted their faces up and away from the rising water, then reached out to the sides to get a strong hold, readying for the impact.

Both of the men turned unexpectedly when they heard a sound from outside, a loud clunk.  The sound of metal dragged against the front of the hull.

“What was that?”  First Clay, then Caesare, dunked their heads beneath the water and pressed their faces to the large bubble window.  A blurry shadow could be seen through the glass, a human figure.

***

Emerson, Tay and two other crewmen stood on the large flat platform of the Pathfinder’s stern.  With two on each side of the platform, they tried to maintain their balance over the ship’s rocking while each fed a large cable into the blue water.  End over end, their hands moved deftly to keep the cables from becoming taut.  On one side, Emerson and Tay fed a thick black oxygen line while the men across the platform fed a large steel cable from a giant wheel behind them.

Beneath the water, Lightfoot was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts, a mask, and fins, holding onto the front of the K-955 sub which he could feel sinking beneath him.  Lightfoot worked to attach the thick cable to the sub without getting his oxygen line wrapped up in it.  He wore a full mask which covered his entire face and gave him excellent visibility, but as he desperately tried to pull himself up and over the top of the sub, his heavy breathing was beginning to fog the glass.  The benefit of the full face mask was that it provided an undistorted view and allowed the person to speak while working, but Lightfoot was putting out a great deal of carbon dioxide and overwhelming the gentle flow of oxygen which kept it clear.

As Lightfoot scampered on top, he saw the large steel loops used by the winch to lower it from the ship.  He grabbed one and pulled himself closer, careful not to lose his grip on the cable.  He pulled hard on the cable and managed to get it a foot closer.  It was getting tighter as the sub continued to fall back into the depths faster than Emerson and his team could feed it down.  Lightfoot pulled himself closer and passed over the small window on top of the sub.  Glancing down, Lightfoot could make out the interior lights, which were very dim and now completely submerged below the water inside.  The silhouettes of Clay and Caesare were both staring back at him, each breathing through a small air canister.

Inside, Clay raised his head and grabbed the controls again.  He needs some slack!  He pulled the stick all the way back, tilting the craft up with what little power they still had.

As the K-955 inched higher, Lightfoot pulled hard again on the cable and got just enough slack to run through one of the giant loops.  He grimaced as he struggled to push the end through, but with one last effort, he managed to clip the large hook up and back onto itself.  He pressed his mask closer to verify it was secure, then pushed a large button on the side of his mask.

“She’s hooked!” he yelled.

His voice was broadcast up and over the ship’s external speakers.  When Tay heard Lightfoot’s voice, he ran across the platform and wrapped his hand around a chrome colored lever.  He forced it up several notches to engage the motor at full power.  The huge platform on the stern suddenly dipped deeply into the water, as it counteracted the inertia of the sub’s descent.  They all stumbled and turned when the motor let out a terrible screech.  It eventually began to turn, pulling in the cable.

Below them, Lightfoot was sliding off the top when the sub jerked upward.  He quickly grabbed hold of the thick rubber oxygen line.  Above him, on deck, Emerson’s two extra crewmen jumped to the other side of the platform to help pull the oxygen line back in, hand over hand.

They ignored the churning of the motor as it continued to reel in the cable, turning faster and faster.

As they pulled him up, Lightfoot kicked his feet hard to try to catch the sub.  Once on the surface, he needed to get the sub’s hatch open as quickly as possible.  Clay and Caesare had been completely submerged inside for several minutes, which meant their canisters would soon be out of usable air.  Lightfoot got close enough to grasp the hatch handle and hung on, riding the sub as it rose to the surface.

“Fifteen feet,” said Harris, over the loud speakers.

Emerson looked up at the announcement, then back to his men.  “Okay, get to the edge and hold on.  She’s coming up hard!”

The four men held onto something near the end of the platform to steady themselves.  The wheel behind them was turning now at top speed.  This was going to be rough as there was no chance to bleed off any momentum before the sub breached the surface, which meant it was going to overshoot.  And since the cable was fed directly over the side of the stern, rather than from the large extended winch, the sub was most likely going to come up hard under the Pathfinder.

“Ten feet!” called Harris’ voice.

Moments later, the sub smashed into the underside of the Pathfinder’s stern platform.  All four men were lifted completely off the deck and into the air, along with everything else that was not nailed down.  Equipment and tools flew everywhere, and they all came down hard together.  One of Emerson’s junior crewmen lost his grip and slipped overboard, hitting the K-955’s now exposed tail and disappeared into the waves.

“Man overboard!” yelled Emerson.  The other junior crewman nodded and searched for his shipmate.  Once spotted, he grabbed a float ring and jumped in after him, barely avoiding the sub as it pitched and rolled out from under the Pathfinder.  A deafening shriek of metal on metal filled the air as the port side of the sub scraped along the bottom of the platform before finally freeing itself.  As it rotated freely, Lightfoot popped up out of the white swell, still holding onto the hatch.  He ripped off his mask and turned toward the circular door, straddling his legs across the top.  He shook the water off of his face and gripped the handle hard, turning it with everything he had.  The wheel relented and slowly began to turn.  Lightfoot kept working it and then, with a heave, pulled it open.  Instantly, hundreds of gallons of water came flooding out along with two large dark figures.

As the water poured out, the weight of the sub quickly changed.  It began to roll backwards, taking the hatch opening back beneath the water.  Lightfoot scrambled against the hull’s rotation, staying upright as it turned.  Less than thirty feet away, the heads of Emerson’s two junior crewmen popped up, unharmed.  Now all eyes were on the area of water in front of the twisting sub.

After several seconds, both Clay and Caesare surfaced and looked around.  They spotted Emerson and Tay and pointed back to the sub.  “Get the Triton!” they yelled.

Everyone looked to the K-955 and spotted the small Triton, flopping back and forth, miraculously still clasped in the sub’s retractable claw.  Lightfoot scrambled down to the tiny rover and unhooked it.  He then pulled it behind him as he slid down the side of the K-955’s belly and into the water, with the Triton in tow.

All five men slowly made their way to the ship’s platform.  Emerson and Tay reached over the side and pulled them up one by one.  They grabbed Lightfoot and the Triton last, hefting it up over the heads of the others.  All of them slouched forward, feet hanging over the end, trying to catch their breath.  Emerson and Tay set the Triton down and joined the rest of the men, sitting down behind them.

After a long silence, Emerson reached over and put his hand on Clay’s shoulder.  He gave him a broad smile.  “I was afraid we might just lose you two.”

Clay looked at Emerson and returned the smile, his chest still heaving.  His soaked hair hung down, pasted against his forehead with water streaming down over his face.  “The thought crossed our minds once or twice.”

Emerson turned to his crewman.  “Whitey, Ballmer, you guys alright?”

Whitey, the larger of the two, nodded his head.  “Yep.”  Next to him, Ballmer merely held up his hand and gave a thumbs-up.

Emerson turned to Caesare.  “Caesare?”

Caesare put his hands behind him and leaned back on them.  “I’m okay.”

Emerson took a deep breath and looked at the K-955 rolling back and forth in the rising swells.  The sub had deep scrapes covering most of its side but remained on the surface.  It was still tethered to the Pathfinder by the large steel cable which was slack, yet still visible below the surface of the water.  “Anyone else really starting to hate this place?”

28

Kathryn Lokke reached up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before opening them.  She looked at her watch and then peered around the tent.  It was 5:00 a.m., and only Andrew’s sleeping bag was empty.  Pierre and Tadri remained completely buried inside their own bags, neither leaving any skin exposed.  Kathryn looked at the thin layer of ice which formed around the base of the triple layered, insulated tent.  She thought about how even the most modern materials still could not keep you from freezing your butt off.  At least you still felt like you were freezing it off.  She was sure that, in reality, these advanced materials provided some serious protection, in spite of the attention they paid to the cold that still managed to get through.

Kathryn turned onto her back and closed her eyes for several minutes, trying to gauge her chances of getting back to sleep.  Eventually, she frowned and turned back over.  She grabbed her thick knit cap and put it back on her head, then pulled the sides down over her ears.  She quietly pulled herself out of her bag and sat up, putting her thick jacket on, followed by her insulated pants and Gore-Tex boots.  She managed to unzip the vinyl zipper without waking Pierre or Tadri and poked her head out.

The sun was low on the horizon which was white in every direction.  Kathryn glanced at the second tent and could see an orange-blue glow from the small flickering flame inside.  She pulled the large door flap open and stepped out, quickly re-zipping it from the outside.  Even without the wind, the early morning air felt like it penetrated through her clothes immediately.  She ran across the twenty feet of frozen ground and flung open the tent flap as fast as she could.  Without a second’s delay, she jumped inside.

Andrew looked up from his aluminum coffee mug.  “Morning,” he said, in a low voice.

“Good morning.”  She zipped the door closed and turned to sit down on one of the small lightweight collapsing chairs on the other side of the burner.  She leaned in close to the flame which was keeping the coffee hot and the tent warm.  She picked up a mug, scraped some ice out, and poured herself a cup.

Kathryn really did not care for coffee but decided three days ago that she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  Taking a sip, she frowned at the bitterness and wrapped her hands around the warm metal cup.  She looked absently around the tent.  Most of their geological gear lined the far wall, including two laptops and a satellite phone.

“Things are going well, eh?” asked Andrew, in this thick New Zealand accent.

“Touch wood,” she said, with a grin, which was the Kiwi equivalent of the same American phrase.  She looked around for a piece of wood to tap.  Both looked around the tent and laughed quietly when they realized that everything around them was made with lightweight metals and fabrics.

Andrew finished his coffee and reached down for the small Teflon coated frying pan.  “So,” he said, “I know the official reason for you all being here.  But it doesn’t seem to wash out.”  He lit a match off the burner and used it to ignite a second.  “If you already knew the extent of the Shelf slide, why come back with so many in such a mad rush?”

Kathryn looked at him and then quietly glanced down at the flame in front of her.  “Pride.”  She kept gazing and then shrugged and looked back at him.  “And a little arrogance, I guess.”

He put the pan on the flame, dug into the food chest, then retrieve some eggs and a strip of bacon.  “Your pride or theirs?” he asked, with a knowing grin.

“Mine.”

“Ah,” Andrew nodded. “So, your pride and their arrogance, eh?”

She smiled behind her cup.  “How’d you know?”

“Politics aren’t limited by country.  We’ve got our own share of dramas down here.”  He cracked open two eggs into the pan.  “In fact, I got a mate working in one of our government branches.  The things he tells me leave me in no hurry to get back.”

“How did you wind up out here?  I can’t tell if you’re a researcher or a soldier.”

Andrew laughed.  “Ah, I’m a soldier, but I do a little research too.  Have to.  Not to mention that conditions out here are rough enough that you tend to want to help out a bit just to get things wrapped up quicker.”  The eggs started to bubble and he reached for the plastic spatula.  “You want these over easy again?”

“Please.”  Kathryn watched him flip the eggs.  He was not a bad cook.  In fact, after factoring in the environment, she decided he was an excellent cook.  “Do you lead people out here a lot?”

“Ah, yeah,” he said, dragging his words.  “Few years ago, a team from China was out and they got lost in a snow storm.  Only two of the five made it back, and the ones that did were in pretty bad shape.  We had offered to go out with them until they acclimated and all, but they refused.  After that, we started going out with everyone, no exceptions.”

“Better safe than sorry,” She nodded.  “I’m afraid to think of how we might fare if the weather turned bad on us.”

“Nah,” he smiled again.  “You’d be alright with us.”  He flipped the eggs onto the small metal plate and slid the bacon on top.  He handed it to Kathryn and reached back into the chest.  “If we leave early, I’ll be able to make us all a big farewell breakfast.”

Like Kathryn and her four person team, the rest of the teams also landed without incident, except for one failed snowmobile on the last drop.  Thankfully, it was the three man team, and they were still able to manage with one machine.  The rest of the project had so far gone fairly smoothly, and with over half of their work done, they were expected to leave a full two days early.  Something everyone was happy about.

The teams had already placed most of the seismographs along the fault line.  The new models were solar powered and connected via a direct satellite link. About the size of a large shoebox, they would be able to measure any changes on the Shelf up to fractions of an inch in any direction.  The majority of work in the next two days would be primarily measurements and sample gathering.

Kathryn turned around when she heard the unzipping of the tent door behind her.  In stepped Tadri, who seemed to zip it back up even faster than she did.  “Did I hear someone talking about breakfast?”

“Yeah, you sure did,” Andrew replied, “have a seat and I’ll fix ya right up.”

“Bless you.”  Tadri sat down next to Lokke and drained some coffee from the percolator.  She let out a gentle groan with her first sip.  “Coffee has never tasted so good in all my life.”

Andrew smiled.  “Yeah, the Antarctic will do that.  Everything hot tastes better, and everything cold tastes a little worse.”

“Must be why we all started crying over your stew last night,” Kathryn said, and they all laughed.

Tadri looked at Kathryn.  “How many more of the SatQuake units do we have to place?”

“Just three more.  The rest of the trip should be mostly data collection.”

“Any problems with the other teams?”  Tadri had turned in early the night before, before Kathryn had made her rounds checking in with the other teams over satellite phone.

Kathryn shook her head.  “Not really.  A few hardware units that don’t seem to want to work, couple of small injuries from tripping, and a lot of complaints about the food.”  She smiled at Andrew, waiting for a reaction.

“Heeey,” he said, as he handed a plate of eggs to Tadri.  “Can I help it if the other gents can’t cook like me?”

“All in all, it’s been pretty smooth.”  Kathryn continued.  “We really lucked out with this weather and everyone is eager to leave early.”

“You know,” Tadri said to Kathryn.  “There were a lot of unhappy people when you told us what we were going to be doing.  A lot of people complaining that this was just a political axe to grind for you.  But, I think this has been good for everyone.  Most of us had not just gotten soft, but I think some of our skills had gotten a little rusty too.  I know a lot of people are probably still pissing and moaning on the outside, but I think everyone will be better for this.”

“Thank you.”  Kathryn gave a gentle raise of her eyebrows.  “To be honest, I thought I was going to get a wave of resignations over this.”

Tadri winked.  “Well, you might still get a few.”

“Just hope they are the right ones,” Andrew grinned.

Kathryn and Tadri looked at each other as if Andrew somehow knew who the problem members of the department were.  They both burst out laughing.

***

Kathryn’s four person group was out on the ridgeline by 7:00 a.m.  Two hours later, Pierre was positioning one of the seismographs while Kathryn and Tadri measured the width, depth, and horizontal shift of the fissure caused by the quake.  Andrew walked ahead examining the ground for signs of cracks or weakness in the ice.  A few falls from the other teams had resulted in only minor injuries.  However, a collapse under foot could easily result in something much worse, ranging from a broken ankle or compound fracture, to a cave in from which it would take too long to get someone out, if at all.  Ironically, the vast majority of deaths in the remote regions of the Antarctic were caused by smaller injuries that prevented the victims from getting out of the elements in time.  This was a lesson that all of the guides explained to Kathryn’s people on the first day and repeated frequently.

The two women approached the edge of the large crevice and looked down at one of the deepest gaps they had seen.  They guessed it was close to fifty feet deep and tip toed carefully along the edge, knowing that the edge was often still unstable.  Tadri knelt down and positioned her small laser unit for what felt like the ten thousandth time.  She turned it on and looked at the bright red line extending across the gap.  Then she turned the small wheel along the bottom, slowly dropping the angle of the laser, until the bright spot appeared on the lip of the opposite wall.  Tadri read the figure on the display.  “Forty three feet, seven and three eighths inches.”

Kathryn stood behind her and entered the measurement on a large handheld device, which automatically locked in their GPS location.

Tadri then turned a second laser downward, focusing on the bottom of the crevice.  “Fifty three feet, three inches and one sixteenth.”

Kathryn entered the numbers and frowned.  She hit a button and displayed all of the measurements in a spreadsheet view.  Running down the list, she noticed something.  “Hmm.”

Tadri stood up and turned around.  “What’s up?”

“Have you noticed a trend here as we move south?”

Tadri thought a minute.  “It’s getting deeper isn’t it?”

Kathryn nodded.

“That’s not good,” Tadri said.  “If it’s getting deeper, the further in we go that makes it very unlikely it’s a surface fracture and –“

“And it extends through the Shelf,” finished Kathryn.

A few hundred yards away, Pierre secured the last leg of his SatQuake.  He stood up and dusted the ice off his knees.  He looked south at the rest of the group and started to turn when something caught his eye.  He turned and looked back down at the seismograph below him.  The red light on top was lit.  Pierre stared at the bright LED bulb for a moment and then reached down and hit the reset button.  The light went off.  He nodded and picked up his pack.  He turned and took a few steps before stopping again.  He turned back to the SatQuake.  The red light was on again.

Pierre grabbed the walkie-talkie from his hip and held it up to his mouth.  He pressed down the transmit button.  “Hey, Kathryn, you there?”

Kathryn heard Pierre’s voice on her own hip and grabbed her walkie-talkie.  She looked back at Pierre, who she could see clearly, but was well out of earshot.  “Go ahead, Pierre.”

“I think we have a bad SatQuake unit here.” he said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The alert light keeps coming on.”  He looked around, doing a three hundred and sixty degree scan.  “It’s either not working right or the sensor is too sensitive.  There’s no other noise around to pick up.”

“Did you try the reset?”

“Yep,” Pierre answered.  He pressed the reset again and watched the light go off.  After several seconds, it came on again.  “Just tried it again.  Still comes back on.”  He looked back the way they came.  “Didn’t have this problem on any of the others.”

“Is it syncing with the satellite alright?” asked Kathryn.

“Seems to be.  Both battery and satellite lights are green.”

“That’s strange,” said Kathryn. “I wonder what the problem is.”

“Beat’s me.  What do you want me to do?”

“Just leave it.  I’ll note that it’s having issues.  Grab the snowmobile and come on over.”

“Will do.  Gonna grab a snack.  See ya in a few.”  He replaced the walkie-talkie on his hip and knelt down to dig through his pack for an energy bar.

Kathryn watched Pierre in the distance, rummaging through his bag.  She looked down at Tadri, who was folding up the laser.  “Looks like we have a bad seismograph.”

“Well, I guess it was bound to happen.”  Tadri collapsed the small legs on the unit and slid it back into a thick duffel bag.

“Guess so.  They’re pretty reliable though.  I can’t remember the last time we had a bad-“

Tadri turned around to see why Kathryn had stopped talking and found her gazing at Pierre in the distance.  She looked back at Tadri and slowly pulled the walkie-talkie back from her hip.  She held it to her mouth and slowly pushed the button again.

“Pierre.  Can you hear me?”  Kathryn shot Tadri a worried look as she waited for a reply.  Tadri’s eyes suddenly opened wide.

“Yeah, Kathryn.  Go ahead,” came Pierre’s voice.

“Pierre, get away from the ridge.”

“What?”

Kathryn squeezed the small transmitter in her hand.  “Get away from the edge!”

“What for?” he asked.

Kathryn looked at Tadri and pressed the transmit button down again.  “That unit may not be broken.”

Pierre heard her voice and turned south to look at them.  Before he could reply, the ice below them began to shake.

Kathryn’s eyes widened.  She looked at the ground then back to Tadri.  The shaking intensified, causing them to stumble and grab each other for support.  “RUN!” she shouted.

Tadri was thrown to the ground and quickly rolled over, continuing forward on her hands and knees as Kathryn looked for Pierre.  He had disappeared behind the thick wall of white mist rising from the fractures splitting the frozen ground.  Kathryn raised the walkie-talkie to her mouth, trying desperately to stay on her feet.  “Pierre?!” she shouted.  She tried to peer through the thick mist.  “Pierre!”  The sound of the quake thundered all around them, and she held the small unit up against her ear.  There was no reply.  She held the button down again and screamed as loud as she could.  “PIERRE!”

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands squeezed the back of her parka like a vice.  Kathryn fell to the ground, looking up to find Andrew dragging her behind him, away from the widening crack in the surface.  He trudged forward, stumbling from side to side, struggling to stay on his feet, through the violent shaking.  After thirty or forty feet, he finally lost his balance and fell to the ground, but continued scrambling forward, pulling Kathryn behind him.

The world suddenly felt in slow motion as Kathryn kicked at the icy ground, trying to help further their distance.  She could see large pieces where they were just standing suddenly crack and fall into what now looked like a chasm, inching its way toward them.  She twisted her body to the outside, then onto her hands and knees, in a desperate attempt to get further away from the edge.  She followed Andrew towards Tadri, who was also on her hands and knees ahead of them.  Kathryn noticed something that she would not process until later.  During their mad scramble, Andrew’s face seemed oddly composed as he kept scanning the area around them and looking backward.  How in the world could he remain so focused?

Finally, the rumbling subsided and the ground gradually became still again.  They were left on the ground panting, surrounded in a white fog created by the breaking of massive amounts of ice shelf.  The crack in the earth was barely visible in front of them through the thick white curtain, but it looked frighteningly wide.  Kathryn was staring at what little she could see of the gigantic crack when she realized that Andrew was patting her down and turning her body from side to side.  When he was confident that she had sustained no injuries, he quickly made his way to Tadri and repeated the process.

He returned to Kathryn moments later and pulled the walkie-talkie from her hand.  Pressing down on the large button, he called out for Pierre.  “Pierre, mate, are you there?”  He moved the device away from his mouth and listened.  After a long pause, he shook his head.  With a jerk, he ripped a whistle and cord from around of his neck, and dropped it into her lap.  “Wait here,” he said, peering into the thick fog.  Without another word, he pulled a small digital compass from a jacket pocket, held it up for a moment, and disappeared into nothingness.

Kathryn and Tadri sat motionless, listening to Andrew’s footsteps moving away from them.  After a long moment, Tadri scooted next to her and snaked her arm inside Kathryn’s.  They huddled together.  Their immediate worry was for Pierre, but Kathryn’s thoughts quickly began to spread to the rest of the team.  There were a lot of people out here because of her and any one of them may have been caught in that quake.  Jesus, all of them could have been.  Her chest suddenly began to feel heavy, and her fear grew into a paralyzing mix of guilt and terror.

Tadri felt Kathryn’s body begin to shake through their linked arms and turned to her.  “Kathryn?  Are you okay?”

Kathryn looked at Tadri with a helpless stare.  She slowly shook her head.  “The others.”  She trailed off, looking back at the fog, trying desperately to peer beyond.

Tadri grabbed her gloved hand and squeezed it.  “I’m sure everybody’s fine, Kathryn!  I’m sure everyone got away just like we did.”  Kathryn looked back at her.  “Including Pierre.”

Kathryn was not so sure.  She thought about how quickly and easily those edges fell away.  She had to find out.  She turned and looked for her large pack which had the long-range radio on it, but the thick white mist had already moved past them and enveloped the entire area.  Kathryn started to turn when Tadri gripped her tightly.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to get to my pack and call the other teams.”

Tadri turned around.  “Do you see your pack?”

Kathryn smirked and pointed.  “It’s right over there about forty feet away.

“Are you sure?” Tadri asked.

Kathryn nodded impatiently.  “Yes!”  Tadri remained silent staring at her.  Kathryn took the hint and looked around.  They were completely enveloped now and could not see anything.  “Well, I’m pretty sure it’s right over there.”

Tadri kept a firm grip on her arm.  “Do you even know which direction you’re facing?  I don’t!”

Kathryn looked again, thinking about the question.  “No.”  She sighed, slouching back down to the ground.

Tadri looked up.  Even the sky was white.  “I say we wait until Andrew gets back, or until we can actually see something.”

They both sat waiting for what seemed like hours.  Finally, they heard the distant crunching of footsteps and stood up excitedly.  It took almost a full minute for Andrew to appear out of the wall of mist.  They smiled at him but realized he was not smiling back.  He stopped in front of them and swung something large around his shoulders dropping it at their feet.  It was Pierre’s bag.

Kathryn’s eyes opened wide, fearful of what was coming.

“I can’t find him.”

She immediately felt like she had been hit in the chest with a hammer.

“I reckon he fell in.  He was pretty close when it started.”  Andrew knelt down and unzipped the bag.  He dug through it, taking a quick inventory.

“Wha-what do we do?” she asked.

“We get our bags and go back to look for him.  I didn’t hear anything when I called out for him, but I’m not ready to give up.  Get your bags,” he looked at his compass.  “They’re just a few meters that way.”  As he pointed, Kathryn noted that it was not the direction she was about to head earlier.  “We need our equipment and as much rope as we can find.  We have some on the other snowmobile.  Hopefully, we have enough between the two.”

Both women took a tentative step in the direction that Andrew had indicated, but turned back with an uncertain look.  He nodded his head, still squatting down looking in the bag. “Just follow the sound back to me, you’ll be fine.”

Andrew led the way back on foot, with Kathryn and Tadri riding their snowmobile slowly behind him.  The visibility was improving, and they were able to make out the outline of the other snowmobile at almost thirty feet when they arrived.  Part of the front skids hung over the edge of the steep drop, but amazingly had not fallen in.  Andrew quickly tied a rope back to back on the snowmobiles.  Kathryn slowly eased the throttle, pulling the second vehicle to safety.

Andrew stood carefully on the edge and peered into the deep white chasm.  He could make out the tips of large ice chunks below, but could not see anything else further down.  “Pieeerre!” he called aloud and listened. “Pieeeeeeerre!”  They heard only silence around them.

Andrew changed the lines on the snowmobiles, so each now had their own individual length of rope attached to its rear rack.  He pulled hard on each to make sure the machines did not budge.

“What are you doing?”  Kathryn asked.

“I’m going down.”

“What?  You don’t even know how far down it is!”

He shot her an impatient look.  “Look…Kathryn, he’s probably buried, which means we don’t have long.  It’s probably already too late.  But it’s now or never.”  He pointed to the snowmobiles.  “I need you two to sit on those to make sure they don’t go anywhere.”

Both women nodded and planted themselves on the seat, facing backwards.  Kathryn grabbed her pack and pulled out her radio.

“Don’t!”

She looked at Andrew.  “What?  We have to find out if everyone is okay.  They may need help too!”

“If they do, then my teammates are doing exactly as I am.  Besides, we don’t want to make any noise if Pierre is trying to call for help under a meter of snow.”  He ran the ropes through his belt and got ready to descend.  He planted his feet against the edge and looked back at them.  “I’ll be right back.”

29

Clay woke to the sound of his phone.  He opened one eye and peered at the bright screen.  After taking a moment to push the fog from his head, he accepted the call.  “Borger.  How goes it?”

“Hey, Clay, I wake you up?”

“No,” he said, before thinking about the question.  “Actually, yes, but go ahead.”

“Clay, we’re gonna need to get everybody on a call.”

Clay rubbed his hand across his face and sat up on the bed.  “Talk to me.”

Borger paused on the other end.  “It’s not what we thought, Clay.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s worse,” Borger sighed.  “I don’t think we should say too much on your cell.  We’re gonna need a secure line.  Maybe start with Langford.”

Clay nodded.  “Okay, hold tight.  I’ll find him and Caesare.”  He hung up the phone and stared at it for a minute.  He raised his eyes and looked around the darkened room.  When he had first woken, it took him a few seconds to remember where he was.  He and Caesare, along with a couple of Emerson’s men, had been airlifted back to NAS JAX last night, where they quickly unloaded the Triton.  After getting it into a lab, they removed the hard drive and attached it to a computer so they could transfer the data to Borger.  It took a couple hours, but once Borger had the data, he suggested they all get some rest and give him some time to go over it.  That was all the prompting they needed.  They procured some quarters reserved for civilian visitors, and hit the sack.  That was a little over four hours ago.  Now it was four thirty a.m., and he needed to find Langford for a conference call.  Finding Caesare was easy. He could hear him snoring through the wall next door.

Fifteen minutes later, Langford was the last of the four men to dial into the call.  He wasted no time.  “What do you have, Will?”

“Well, sir, I just got off the phone with Dr. Harding at MIT.  We’ve spent the last two hours going over the hard drive data that Clay and Caesare sent over.  The Triton captured twelve hours and fifty two minutes of video after losing contact with the ship, and slowly spiraled downward in large concentric circles until hitting the bottom.  Most of the video is not useful, as it captured things above the submersible, such as views of the surface or the ship above.”

“Okay, so what are we here to talk about?” Langford interrupted.

“Sir, most of the video was pointing up, but the segments of video pointing below the craft are why I asked Clay to get you guys on a call.”  He hesitated a moment before continuing.  “The camera on the Triton is an ultrahigh definition camera which records much more detail than what it transfers over its wireless connection, which is what we saw before.  With this new data, we can more clearly see the ring.  The physical characteristics are more advanced than we had previously believed.  For example, the width is thicker than I thought, and I believe it is moving faster than what we had calculated.”

“And what does that change?” asked Langford.

“Well, those observations do not change much of our previous assumptions.  If anything, they just tell us that the ring probably requires more power than we thought.  But, it’s the inside of the ring that changes things.”

“Inside the ring?”

“Yes, sir,” Borger continued.  “We can observe details within the ring’s interior, which gives us some inference; as in a direction.”

Clay spoke up.  “What does that mean?”

“I believe the assertion on our video call the other day was that these…people are planning to bring something through the ring.”

Clay and Caesare looked at each other across the table.  That was not their assertion.  It was Stevas’ assertion.  They were sure Langford was thinking the same thing when his voice came over the phone line.  “That is correct.”

“Sir, I think we have this backwards.  Instead of bringing something through, it…it looks like they may be sending something out.”

There was a long silence before Langford replied.  “Alright, give me some time to wake everyone up.”

***

Secretary of Defense Miller, Chief of Staff Mason, and National Security Advisor Stevas appeared on the video screen within thirty minutes.  A few moments later, a video feed from a Pentagon war room with the four Joint Chiefs appeared.  In the bottom right hand corner were Langford and Borger’s video windows which were already online along with Clay and Caesare.  They were broadcasting from the NAS JAX conference room.  Professors Harding and Wong appeared just as Langford began speaking.

“Gentlemen, we have some news, an update from the information recovered from the Triton submersible.  Data which has been verified by both Mr. Borger, as well as Professor Harding and his team at MIT.  The video taken below the surface is very clear and has given us new information about the ring.” He broke just for a moment. “We may have a larger problem on our hands.”

“Larger than a global invasion?”  Stevas asked, sarcastically.

“I’ll let you decide,” Langford replied.  “I will turn this over to Mr. Borger in a moment to speak to the details, but the bottom line is that it looks like we had the direction of the portal backwards.  The issue is not about what the ring is bringing in.  It’s about what it is sending out.”

“Sending out?”  Miller’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean out?”

“We think this is a one way tunnel,” said Borger.  “And the direction is clearly outbound, not inbound.”

Miller looked at Mason and Stevas sitting next to him, and turned back to the screen.  “And what exactly is that?”

“Water,” replied Borger.  “It appears to be water.”

“Excuse me?”

Borger took a deep breath.  “The camera on the submersible is very high quality and I am confident in what it shows, which is a massive inflow of water into the ring.”  Borger considered his words before speaking the next line.  “I think the dolphins were right, it’s about the water, as in taking our water.”

For a split second, Clay thought the live video feeds had malfunctioned as everyone appeared to be frozen.  But, when Stevas leaned forward he realized there was nothing wrong with their video transmissions, everyone had simply had the same reaction.

“Are you telling us that the purpose of this ring is in fact, to steal our water?”

Borger carefully considered Stevas’ question.  “Well, there is still a lot more we do not know…but it definitely looks like the direction of the portal is one way.”

“Mr. Harding,” Miller said, “is this your assessment as well?”

Harding nodded into his camera.  “I’m afraid so.”

“Is there any possibility that we are wrong?”

“Yes, it is possible.  As I said, there is still much we don’t know.  But what we know so far, and have been able to verify…we are pretty sure of.”  The screen was suddenly filled with a high definition video picture of the ring, being shared from Borger’s computer.  He played it in slow motion as he explained.  “A strong current of water, even within the ocean, creates a visual distortion which can be measured.  We can then make some calculations on this distortion.”  Borger then highlighted several areas within the video picture with red circles.  “There are other indicators as well, such as the movement patterns of the surrounding plant life and sediment, and the direction of flow within the ring.  There are more subtle optical cues as well, all of which are measurable with a relatively high degree of accuracy.”

“How much water are we talking about?” Miller asked.

“We’re not sure.  Professor Harding and his team are working on that, but our preliminary estimate… is a hell of a lot.”

“This just gets better and better,” Miller said, shaking his head.  “And we don’t know where this is going?”

Borger frowned.  “Probably off planet.”

Miller was still shaking his head.  “And if we are losing a ‘hell of a lot of water’ why didn’t anyone notice this out of the tens of thousands of scientists around the world, except for a couple of dolphins?”

No one answered.

Miller looked directly across his table and stared at Stevas.  “Or maybe someone did notice.”

Stevas stared back but said nothing.

“Okay,” Miller said, turning back to everyone on screen.  “Mr. Mason will wake the President and Vice President.”  He looked at his watch.  “Everyone meet at JAX.”  Miller looked again at Stevas.  “Looks like you were right, Clay.  Now, before you start gloating, go find Keister.”

30

Kathryn sat on the ground, her knees raised to her chest with her head between them.  The large handheld radio lay on its side in the ice next to her, silent.  Tadri sat next to her, with an arm wrapped around.  Kathryn raised her head just long enough to wipe more tears away.  She was devastated.  Pierre was gone.  Andrew searched for over an hour, but could find no trace of him…sight nor sound.  Judging from the depth of the chasm, he was now likely buried beneath twenty feet of ice, if not more.

Even worse was the news from the other teams.  Upon Andrew’s return, they found that six others had fallen in and been lost as well.  Just as he had said, all of the other guides went down after them, but only two were brought back up alive.  Three bodies were recovered.  Four could not be found, including Pierre.

It could not have been worse, Kathryn thought to herself.  It was all her fault.  Seven people were dead because of her.  She brought them all, practically forced them to come, and for what?  All so she could show those bastards in Washington!

Andrew finished tying their gear to the snowmobiles and walked over to her and Tadri.  “We’re ready.”

She stared at him silently, saying nothing.  She reached for his hand and he pulled her up.

A voice came across the radio.  Andrew reached down to pick it up.  The three of them listened in on a short conversation.  “Base, this is Team Nine.  We are moving out and headed for the rendezvous.  Over.”

The reply was immediate.  “Roger that, Nine.  Estimated touchdown at your location in approximately two hours twenty minutes.”  Kathryn recognized the second voice as Steve Anderson, Andrew’s commanding officer and the head of the small New Zealand research team stationed at McMurdo.

After Andrew had returned from his search for Pierre, it was Steve Anderson to whom he reported the grim news.  Their other guides did the same, and as each report of a fatality was heard over the radio, Kathryn’s heart sank deeper and deeper.

“Are you ready?” Andrew asked her and Tadri.

She gave a painful nod, and he raised the radio to his mouth.  “Team Ten ready to head out.”

“Roger that, Team Ten.  We should be at your rendezvous in approximately three hours.”

“Copy.  Ten out.”  Andrew lowered the radio and clipped it to his thick nylon belt.  He scanned the area again and then turned back to the women, following their gaze back to the monstrous crack in the ice.  Most of the white haze had cleared and the enormity of the second quake was breathtaking.  More than that, it was painful knowing that one of their group would remain there entombed.  He walked over to the lead snowmobile and waited.

Kathryn stared for a long time at the place where she had last seen Pierre.  The longer she stared, the harder it was to turn away.  This was it.  This was ground zero of her decision and people had paid with their lives.  They were not coming home, ever, because of her.

She felt Tadri’s hand on her shoulder and turned to look at her.  Neither said anything.  They simply turned around together and walked back to the snowmobiles.  Kathryn climbed silently aboard behind Andrew, while Tadri got onto the second machine.  They started both engines and slowly pulled away.

***

The trip to the rendezvous location was over thirty miles away, over flat icy terrain.  The quake had been so great that they were still detecting aftershocks on the seismic sensors.  Even though Anderson and his pilots were airborne minutes after the reports began coming in, without knowing how deep the crack now was, the last thing they needed to do was to land a few loud, giant airplanes close by.  Instead, ten different sites were identified that each of the teams were able to reach based on their remaining personnel, supplies and fuel levels.  The risks were low, but Anderson’s team was not about to take any chances.

***

The ground was challenging, but their progress was steady.  Andrew and the two women carefully navigated several depressions and gaps in the ice without much danger.  They reached their destination almost forty five minutes before their pick up.  Andrew opened a pack and offered Kathryn and Tadri something to eat while they waited, but neither accepted.  Instead, they sat near the warm engine of his snowmobile and tried to shield themselves from the increasing wind.  Not long after, he dropped down next to them.  They all sat silently for the hour it took to finally hear the sound of the plane in the distance.

The silver glint of the familiar C130 aircraft became visible in the bright sky from several miles away.  Andrew reached into his pack and retrieved a landing flare.  Walking away, he ignited the small tube and let it spew a thick red smoke, blowing away from him along with the cold breeze.  When he reached the flat area identified as their makeshift landing strip, he threw the flare as far as he could out onto the ice.  He turned and walked back to Kathryn and Tadri.  Together, they watched the large plane bank slightly toward the smoke signal.  The pitch of the engines slowed as it began dropping in altitude.  The landing gear followed, slowly unfolding out from under its belly like a massive bird stretching its legs.

With a couple hundred feet left, the plane leveled out and passed overhead, giving the pilot a chance to assess the surface of the frozen ground.  A moment later, Anderson’s voice came over the radio.  “Landing site appears acceptable.  Stand by for touch down.”

The aircraft made a wide circle and approached again from the same direction, which was against the wind.  The engines slowed even more, and it dropped steadily until reaching just ten feet above the ground.  Finally, less than a half mile out, it gently fell and bounced onto the ice.  The engines suddenly screamed as their thrust was redirected forward to slow the plane.  It bounced and shuddered several times as the wheels hit uneven ground until it slowed to a halt.

Andrew and the two women mounted the snowmobiles and started forward.  They headed for the beginning of the strip while the large plane slowly turned around and followed them.  Andrew brought them around in a large arc.  He waited to see where the tail of the C130 would line up after turning, yet again into the wind and readying itself for takeoff.  When the aircraft stopped, the specially modified tail folded down.  A large hydraulic ramp extended over the tail section and then down to the ground.  Andrew pulled them forward slowly and motioned Kathryn to dismount behind him.  After her, he swung his leg over and left the engine idling.

Steven Anderson and Kyle Bassen, the guide of Team Eight, descended the ramp and approached.  Anderson raised his eyebrows slightly at Andrew who nodded and then motioned to the two women.  Anderson understood and walked directly to Kathryn.

“How ya going there, Ms. Lokke?” he asked.

She struggled as she felt her emotions suddenly well up inside.  She only managed a nod.

Anderson frowned after reading her face.  He waited a few moments, giving her a chance to compose herself, fighting his instinct to reach out.  She was under a great deal of stress and likely very cognizant of how she appeared in front of her team, some of whom were now watching her through the opening in the rear of the plane.  When he continued, he spoke a little more slowly.  “The rest of your team is headed back to McMurdo, aside from those inside. We also have one of the recovered bodies aboard.”  There was no easy way to say that, but she appeared to take it well enough.  “Are you okay?”  he asked.

Kathryn’s gaze strengthened, and yet she answered with surprising honesty.  “No.  Not really.”

Anderson nodded and motioned to Kyle, standing next to him.  “Can we help you aboard?”

Her answer was exactly what he expected.  “No.”  With that, she walked past them, followed by Tadri, and climbed the slippery ramp in short controlled steps.  When she got to the top, she looked into the fuselage of the plane to find teams Seven through Nine.  They were huddled together at the far end, with all eyes on her.  The other snowmobiles and packs had been secured to the sides of the hull, leaving a tight path through to the other end.

She and Tadri slowly navigated through, toward the others.  As she passed some of the gear, she suddenly saw the shape of the wrapped body and froze.  She knew from the reports that it was Jason, the youngest and newest addition to her team.  Kathryn could hear Tadri behind her, and she forced herself forward again.

When she reached the front of the plane, the others squeezed closer together to make room on the narrow bench seat.  They were all bundled in their parkas for warmth.  Kathryn looked at the others; their gazes were a mix of sympathy, contempt, and sheer disbelief that any of this had happened to them.  She looked at the faces of Leo Torbin and Gale Preece, the two researchers who were onsite at the Halley research station when the first major quake hit.  Gale was leaning gently against Leo.  What Kathryn did not know was that Leo had saved her, grabbing Gale and keeping her from falling under the collapsing ice as some of the others had.

After the last of their gear was loaded, Anderson and the others re-boarded and closed the tail section.  He gave the thumbs up to the pilots who were looking back through the cockpit door.  Moments later, the engines roared back to life, drowning out everything else inside.  The plane shuddered and picked up speed and the ride progressed from bumpy to almost violent as the aircraft jumped and plowed through the uneven terrain.  Inside, Kathryn and her team instinctively held onto one another until the pounding disappeared, and the plane was airborne.

After several minutes, they leveled out and Anderson came forward.  He motioned for Kathryn to join him.  She stood and shuffled back to where he was standing, looking over his shoulder at Jason’s body bag again.  She leaned next to Anderson, against two big bags of gear.

“There is something I didn’t get a chance to tell you outside,” he said, in a lowered voice.

She leaned in expectantly.

He looked at the others and lowered his voice even more.  “We’re not heading back to McMurdo.”

She raised her eyebrows, surprised.  “Where are we heading?”

“It sounds like someone pretty high up in my government got a call from someone in yours,” he said, with a slight frown.  “We have been asked to return you directly back to the Falklands.”

“You were asked?”

He shrugged.  “Let’s say asked firmly.”

“This is probably going to sound like a dumb question, but can this plane make it that far with all of this equipment on board?”

“Barely.”

“Well,” she said, looking back at the other team members.  “I don’t think anyone is going to object.  It just gets us back to civilization that much faster.”

He nodded.  “Right.  I just thought you should know.  Apparently, there will be another aircraft waiting for you when we land.”

“I guess someone really wants to get us home in a hurry.”

Anderson shook his head.  “No, the plane isn’t waiting for everyone.  It’s waiting for you, specifically.”

***

Kathryn woke up when she felt the plane bank hard to the right.  She looked out the window and could see land beneath them.  Some of the others looked even more excited than she was to see brown land, instead of white.  Kathryn watched as the plane passed over nearly a hundred small lakes before lining up for its approach.  The sky was dark blue, with the sun just sinking below the western horizon.  One of Anderson’s men, sitting nearby, reminded everyone to fasten their harnesses and prepare for landing.  Hopefully, a much smoother landing this time.

The touchdown was uneventful, and the C130 slowed as it taxied down one of the long runways of Britain’s Royal Air Force station.  The area was a focal point in 1982 during the war over the Falkland archipelago between Argentina and the United Kingdom.  The war lasted just two months, but cost the lives of over nine hundred Argentinian and British soldiers.  After the victory, the British greatly reinforced the defense of the islands, particularly on the East Falkland Island where they had just landed.

The plane came to a stop, and all of Kathryn’s team eagerly unbuckled and stood up.  The air that rushed in when the side door opened was noticeably warmer.  She waited for everyone to exit before following them down the ladder.  As they walked toward a large waiting bus, Kathryn looked around and spotted the two other planes which had picked up the rest of her team.  She reasoned that everyone must already be inside, which gave her some solace.  It was over, at least for them.

“Dr. Lokke?” a British officer standing nearby asked.

“Yes.”

He reached out to shake her hand.  “I’m Captain Dyson. Welcome.”

Kathryn watched the bus close its doors and slowly pull away.  Tadri stared at her through the window with a confused look on her face.  She gave a small wave and turned back.  “Thank you,” Kathryn said.

“We have a plane waiting to take you to the U.S.  I trust you were briefed.”

“Yes,” she said.  “I was briefed.”

“Very good.  The flight back will be faster, but I’m afraid the accommodations are rather tight.  I recommend that you take a few minutes to stretch and perhaps use the loo before you leave.  Can I get you anything?  Maybe something to eat?”

Kathryn nodded.  “Yes, thank you.  That would be fine.  I mean the stretch and a trip to the ladies’ room.  I’m not really hungry.”

“I understand.  If you would be so kind as to follow me, I can escort you.”  Dyson led her to a small SUV and opened the door for her.  “If you do get hungry, I would recommend you not drink anything.  There is no toilet on this plane.”

“Good tip.”  She closed the door and leaned her seat back.

***

The plane waiting for her was a surprise.  Even with her limited knowledge of the military, she recognized the famed SR71 Blackbird as they approached in the car.  The Blackbird was a result of the cold war and the need for the U.S. to have a faster spy plane, after an earlier model was shot down over the Soviet Union.  The SR71’s shape was unmistakable.  Most U.S. citizens had seen several pictures of it over the years.

“Um, didn’t I read that these planes were officially decommissioned not too long ago?”

Dyson smiled.  “Well, you may have read that.”

He opened the back lift gate of the SUV and pulled out a pressurized pilot suit, in her size.

“I have to wear that?” Kathryn asked, surprised.

“I’m afraid so.  The good news is that this plane is very fast and the flight will not be long.  The bad news is that you will be traveling above the speed of sound, and you will need this suit for protection.”

“Okay, this is ridiculous.  Who the hell wants me back so fast that I need to wear protection inside the plane?”

Dyson shook his head helplessly.  “I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Fine!”  She removed her parka and flung it into the car.  Next, she removed her boots, put a hand on Dyson’s shoulder for balance, and slid a leg into the suit.

31

Everyone was standing when President Carr entered the underground conference room at JAX, twelve hours later.  Vice President Edward Bailey followed him in.  Bailey’s stockiness, at five foot eight inches, stood out in contrast to Carr’s taller slender frame.  Both were in their mid-fifties, but while Carr had a long established political career, Bailey’s spanned less than half of Carr’s.

Carr walked to the head of the table, and Bailey stood to his right.  “Gentlemen, please have a seat.”  He remained standing and continued.  “Thank you for getting here quickly.  I have just gotten off a call with several heads of state: Russia, China, Britain, and several others.  I have informed them of some of our developments here, and I’m sure you can imagine that they were all rather surprised.  I will say, however, that I have not provided all of the details yet as we are obviously still trying to piece things together ourselves.  I will also tell you that the United Nations is putting together a team of their top people, and plan to have them here within a couple days.  What this means is this situation is about to get very political and very messy.”

“Secretary Miller has briefed me on the latest developments which we are all here to discuss.  You might also be curious why it took us twelve hours to convene.  The reason is that we have added a couple people to the invite.  The first is Mr. Lawrence.”  Carr motioned to the man sitting across from Langford.  “Mr. Lawrence heads the research department of the Department of Energy.  He is fully up to speed.”  Carr glanced at his watch.  “The second person has just arrived and is being escorted to our room.  As soon as we have everyone here, I would like to do a formal round of introductions so everyone knows who is who.  I would also-”

Carr was suddenly interrupted by the conference room door opening and one of the guards ushering in Kathryn Lokke, who looked disheveled to put it mildly.  She walked into a room and looked around, surprised at the large attendance.  “Ah, Ms. Lokke,” Carr greeted her. “Please do come in.”  Mason got up and offered her his seat.  “Let me first apologize for the urgency involved in getting you here.  I know you have had a very rough couple of days.  Do you feel alright and can we get you anything?”

Kathryn was exhausted and not happy about being thrown into what appeared to be some kind of national security meeting with very little sleep in the last forty-eight hours.  She was also now starving, had a growing headache, and had the displeasure of sitting next to Stevas, a man that she had come to loathe.

“No thank you, I’m fine.”  Kathryn replied.

Carr nodded sympathetically.  “I know you have just returned from a terrible ordeal.  I am very sorry to put you on the spot here, but judging from what has been relayed to me about you and your team, I think you will agree that time is of the essence.”

Kathryn was reserved.  “I would.”

“Unfortunately, most of the men in this room are not up to date on our last meeting or what has transpired since then.  Do you feel you have the energy to give us a detailed summary?”

“Gladly.”  Kathryn replied, and slowly stood back up.

President Carr quickly went around the table introducing Langford, Clay, Caesare, and Borger from Naval Investigations.  He also introduced doctors Harding and Wong, as well as Lawrence from The Energy Department.  The rest of the men - Miller, Stevas, Mason, Bullman, and Bishop - she had met before at the White House.

Kathryn looked around the room and exhaled.  She had had a long time to think on her way back.  People that she knew and respected died because of game playing between her and others in this room.  That was why she had barely slept in two days.  She could not stop thinking about them, and their families.  Had any of these men lost any sleep over them?

She lowered her head and took a deep breath.  “I’m Kathryn Lokke, and I am the Director of the United States Geological Survey.  Late last evening, seven of my colleagues died during a sudden earthquake along the top of the Ronne Ice Shelf in Antarctica.  We were assessing the aftermath of an earlier quake, which runs the length of the shelf and threatens to dislodge a giant glacier.  If this glacier breaks from the shelf and falls into the ocean, there is little doubt that it would create a tsunami like we have never seen.  It would likely wipe out most life along both sides of the Atlantic seaboard.”

Clay and Caesare looked at each other quietly.

Kathryn looked sternly at the men on Stevas’ side of the table.  “The reason that my team was on the shelf is because when I presented this information to some of you at the White House, you ignored my warning, preferring to portray me as non-credible.  Well, now we are in far more danger, and frankly I don’t give a damn what you think of me.”  Now Carr’s team looked at each other.  “The next quake came much sooner that even I had feared, and was much worse.  Not only have good people died, but the time we have left to deal with this is greatly shortened.  Let me put it in a way many of you will understand,” she said, sarcastically, “we are now staring down the barrel of a gun.”  She looked around the room and stopped on Stevas, giving him an icy glare.  “I don’t care what you do to me.  I don’t care what you do to my reputation, and I don’t care what you do to my career.  Fire me if you want.  Arrest me.  Do whatever you like, but I am not going to cower to politicians who would rather be jackasses than to do the right thing!”  She finally took her eyes off Stevas and looked at the door.  “You can find someone else to be your puppet!  But when this nightmare happens, I’m going to tell anyone that will listen that some of you simply didn’t give a shit!”

Kathryn pushed her chair out of the way and walked toward the door.  She yanked it open and stepped through when she heard “STOP!”  She turned around to see Carr standing again at the head of the table.

“Okay,” he said.  “Okay.  We deserved that.  You’re right, we didn’t listen.  And I am truly sorry for your colleagues.  But we’re listening now.”  Carr gestured to her chair.  “Please.”  He gestured again.  “Please stay.”

Kathryn stood in the doorway, wondering if she were in shock.  Partly for realizing what she had just said to the President of the United States, and partly for hearing him actually apologize.  When was the last time that happened?  She was so angry.  She wanted to leave.  But if she was right about the Ronne, then they had very little time.  She could not just walk away.  She had to do something.  She tried to get a handle on her emotions and to calm her breathing.  Hate was not going to help anything.  She let the door close slowly behind her and walked back to her chair.

Carr nodded his thanks and then sat down.  Kathryn sighed and remained standing again.  “If the shelf itself collapsed,” she started, “it would be a small issue.  Ice breaks off all the time and ice floats.  The glacier, however, is very large.  It’s one of the largest solid land masses in the Antarctic.  If that detaches from the ice which holds it in place and collapses, it goes straight down.  And when it does, it will displace an enormous amount of water and energy.  We know that these things have happened in the distant past, and we know that they have been absolutely devastating.”

Clay raised his hand.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Any ideas on what is causing this?”

Kathryn took a deep breath.  “Some will tell you that it is part of the larger Global Warming trend.  The ice is melting at both poles.  With the Ronne Shelf being so large, the underlying ice floating on the ocean surface is melting away, losing strength and the ability to hold the glacier in place.”  She straightened up and put her hands on her hips.  “However, I think it’s something different.  My belief is that while the ice is indeed melting, it is not happening as quickly as others claim, and instead the actual volume of water is decreasing which is what is exerting pressure and causing the shelf to separate.”

“What do you mean the ‘water volume is decreasing’?” asked Miller.

She shrugged.  “To put it simply, there is less water under the ice than there used to be.”

“And what happened to the water?” he asked.

“That I don’t know.  But I believe it is a global phenomenon.  I have put forth a scientific paper with my calculations, however, in all honesty, no one believes me.”

“So,” said President Carr, “what should we do?”

Kathryn leaned forward, putting her hands on the table, and looked up from her tussled hair.  “We blow it up.”

More looks were exchanged around the table.  “We blow what up?” asked the Vice President.

“We blow up the shelf, preemptively.”  She walked over to a large whiteboard on the wall.  Picking up a pen, she drew a rough horseshoe shape of the ice shelf.  She then added a large oval to the inside ridge where the glacier was located.  “Here is the glacier.  And this line,” she drew a squiggly line around the inside, “is where the crack is, created by the earthquake, also called an ice quake.”  She switched colors and drew another line further out from the crack.  “If we can intentionally break the shelf closer to the water, we should be able to alleviate enough pressure and weight currently pulling against the glacier.”

The room was silent, with all eyes on her drawing.  “And how much would we have to blow up?”  Carr asked.

Kathryn shook her head as she thought it over.  “I don’t know.  We would have to run some computer simulations.  I would guess at least fifty miles worth.”

“Has anything like this been done before?” Miller asked.

“No,” she replied.  “Not by a long shot.”

“And how long would it take to set this up?”  Carr followed.

“I don’t know,” she said, with an inquisitive look at Carr.  “It depends on what kind of resources we are given.”

“Fair enough.”  He looked around the room.  “Okay, thank you, Ms. Lokke.  I would like to ask that you stay on base as we all figure this out.”

“Fine.”  She nodded. “But what happens to my team?”

Miller leaned forward.  “At the moment, they should be quite comfortable on base in the Falklands.  I think we would all agree that we need to keep things quiet until we figure out exactly what our game plan is.  Unfortunately, bringing your team back too soon could severely compromise things.  Ms. Lokke, is there information or data to be compiled from your expedition?”

“Yes.  A lot of data.”

Miller looked at the President.  “I suggest keeping them where they are and giving them an interim project.  Compiling their data seems logical and then Ms. Lokke can bring them into the next phase as needed.”

Carr looked at Kathryn.  “Any objections, Ms. Lokke?”

“No.  As long as they are safe.”

“They should have access to anything they need,” Miller said.  “Of course, you do understand that we will need to apply some level of lockdown when it comes to communications.  For example, to family and friends.”

“I understand.”  She replied.  “But I want to be honest with them.  They deserve that.  They’re responsible adults.  After what we just went through, they can appreciate the danger and risk involved with how this is handled.”

“Fine.”  Carr nodded.  “Let’s just make sure that we’re in agreement with what you communicate to them.  In the meantime, you deserve some rest.  We have accommodations arranged for you, and the sergeant outside will provide anything you need.  Including a good meal, which I’m guessing is probably long overdue.”

Kathryn adjusted her shirt and brushed some hair behind her ear.  “It is.”

Clay noticed that Lokke seemed to visibly relax.  She also suddenly looked very tired.

As she walked toward the door, everyone in the room stood up.

“Thank you,” was all she said before opening the door and stepping through.

They remained standing quietly as the door clicked shut.  President Carr sighed and leaned forward onto the table.  “I haven’t been dressed down like that in a long time.”  Some of the men let a small grin slip out.  The President motioned to the others and sat back down.  “As you were.”

As everyone sat back down, Caesare leaned toward Clay.  “I like her,” he whispered.

“So do I.”

“Thoughts?” asked the President.

Langford cleared his throat.  “Well, I think we may know where all of her water has disappeared to.”

Carr raised his eyebrows and frowned.  “Indeed.”  He leaned slightly back in his chair.  “Let’s hear from our science experts.  Mr. Borger?”

“Yes, sir?”

“So, tell us, is this in fact some kind of portal?”

“I believe so.”  He looked across the table to Harding.  “From everything we can measure, the direction of water flow is one way, into the ring.  What happens to it from there, we don’t know, but the most logical conclusion is off planet.”

“Mr. Harding?  Do you concur?”

Harding looked at the President.  “Yes, sir.”

Bill Mason, Carr’s Chief of Staff, who had been noticeably silent throughout, spoke up.  “We’re going to have to stop the water flow one way or another.”

“I agree,” Stevas quickly added.

There were several nods around the room.

“So what happens if we destroy this thing?” Carr asked.  “Is there any danger of collateral damage here?”

Doctor Lawrence, from the Department of Energy, shook his head and adjusted his glasses.  “Not that we can see.  If we destroy the ring or damage it enough, we shut it down.”

Borger looked at Lawrence and then gave a worried glance to Clay.  “Um…how exactly do we know that?”

Lawrence looked condescendingly at Borger.  “Energy is our business, son.”  He turned back to Carr.  “Mr. President, we’ve already run several scenarios based on the data.  There does not appear to be energy emanating outward, which means the system, whatever it is, is self-contained.  Furthermore, the depth provides a heavy blanket of protection through oceanic pressure, which means that even should the ring break apart the density and weight of the sea water around it would contain any explosive action.  In fact, given the inward direction of the water flow, any major damage would more likely be inward than outward.  We’ve looked at this from all angles.”

Clay looked back at Borger.  He wondered if these were the ‘experts’ that Stevas referred to before.

Langford spoke up.  “It sounds like we’re making decisions on some pretty large assumptions here.”

Lawrence glared at Langford.  His large frame and posture indicated that intimidation seemed to be a specialty.  “Our assumptions are based on your data.  Unless your data is bad, we are confident in our findings.  Are you saying that you have given us bad data?”

Langford took the insult in stride, but did not look away.  “Given the holes in what we have had time to find out, our data is as sound as we’re going to get.”

Lawrence frowned and looked back at the President.

“If we don’t destroy the ring,” Miller said, “then we risk a glacial collapse that creates a tsunami capable of destroying everything and everyone within driving distance of the Atlantic Ocean.  And if we do destroy the ring, we risk a war with an enemy that we know nothing about, how many they number, or where they are.”

“He said there were 1,200 in their settlement.”  Clay reminded them.

“That’s right,” said Miller, “but we obviously can’t take that as gospel now, can we?”

The President sighed.  “We need more options.  The two we have are not good.”

“There’s always diplomacy,” replied Clay.

Carr thought about it and nodded.  “Talk them out of it?”

Clay shrugged.  “Maybe.  We still don’t know why they’re after the water.  I think we should find out as much as we can before deciding what options we have.”

“I agree,” said Carr.

Miller looked at him.  “I trust you found Keister.”

Clay nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“Then go talk to him again.”

Stevas held up a hand.  “Before we go in there waving a white flag and trying to negotiate, I think we might want to consider another possibility…that they say no.”  He shrugged.  “Say whatever they are doing, they simply don’t stop, can’t stop, or refuse to.  Then what?  If it comes to us having to destroy that thing, then we need to be ready.”

“You’re suggesting the subs?” asked the President.

“Yes.  We send out the Tridents.”  He looked around the room.  “We get our subs either in place, or damn close.  If nothing else, it shows them we are serious.”

Clay thought about his meeting with Stevas at the White House.  Stevas had wanted to destroy the ring, before they even knew what it was.  Now that they did know, he was even more eager.

“Admiral Bishop?” Carr said, turning to the Naval Chief.  “You said previously that we had a couple dozen Trident submarines that could be in the Caribbean within twenty four hours.  Is that correct?”

Bishop folded his hands on the table when he answered.  “Yes, sir.  Of course, the element of surprise will be lost, but we would be in position to act swiftly.”

“And it will give us more leverage,” added Stevas.

“Perhaps.  Or, we incite something even worse.”  Carr thought it over.  What were the risks of actually starting an incident by parking some nuclear submarines nearby?  If they did need to destroy the ring, what would be the catalyst?  Waiting for something else to happen first in the Antarctic would be like closing the barn doors after the animals had fled.  They could not wait until a tsunami was already headed north.

President Carr turned back to Bishop.  “Admiral, launch the Tridents.  But I want them at a safe distance.  As far from the ring as we can be, but still able to act quickly, if needed.”

Bishop nodded.  “Yes sir.”

Carr tapped the table with this finger for emphasis.  “And, NO action or engagement without my orders!  Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, Mr. Clay,” he said.  “Go have another chat with our friend.”

***

Keister and Clay approached the holding cell underground.  With every step, their shoes clicked on the clean floor and echoed down the hallway.  As they approached the two armed marines outside the room, Clay looked at their M16 assault rifles and noticed their safeties were off.  He glanced at the gear they wore, including their armor, boots, and helmet types.  It was one of the habits from his time spent in the Navy SEALs.

The first guard looked them over and turned to his left.  He withdrew a security card with this left hand and swiped it through a small vertical slot.  The light blinked green and the lock on the inside of the door clicked loudly.  The guard did not open the door.  Instead, he stepped clear, put his second hand back on the rifle, and watched Keister and Clay carefully.

Keister grabbed the door handle and twisted.  The thick metal door swung inward and they both stepped through.  Palin was on a small portable cot near the corner.  He lay on his side with his back to them, un-cuffed.  Clay noted a small food table with a food tray and the remains of his dinner.  Interestingly, everything looked eaten except the meat and cheese, which was moved to the side of the tray.

Palin slowly turned over and looked at them.  Upon seeing Clay, he turned and sat up on the bed, then stood and walked to his only chair.  He planted himself smoothly, waiting as they both pulled their chairs over to him.  He did not look tired to Clay, but he did need a shave.

Clay sat down in front of him and wasted no time.  “Where are you from?”

“I have told you-“

“No,” Clay interrupted.  “Where are you from?”

Palin nodded.  He took a deep breath.  “Our sun…is a neighboring star to your own.  It is called Lalande.  Your planet is the third in your solar system, ours is the second.”  He stopped but then added.  “You cannot see it yet with your technology.”

Clay leaned forward.  “And why are you here?”

Palin did not answer.

“You’re not visiting,” Clay said.

Palin shook his head.  “No.”

“So why are you here?”

Palin furrowed his brow.  “You wish to know whether we intend to harm you.”

Clay nodded.

Palin sighed.  “You are a lucky race.  Luckier than you know.”  He tilted his head and asked Clay a question.  “Do you know how planets are formed?”

Clay shook his head.

“They are formed by the slow accumulation of dust-like matter in a solar system, very large amounts of matter.  Some of that matter is ice, which then turns to water as the planet forms and begins to warm.”

Clay remained quiet.  He wondered where this was going.

“You see, a planet with water is not rare.  But a planet almost entirely covered with water, like yours, is.”

“Our amount of water is rare?”

“Yes,” Palin said, “very rare.”

Clay gave him a hard look.  “Why are you taking our water?”

Palin was taken aback.  After a long pause, he continued, “You have no idea how fortunate you are.  So much water provides such incredible resilience for life.  And you take it for granted.  You have so much, that you pollute on an unimaginable scale with barely a second thought.”  He shook his head in pity.  “Your pollution runs much deeper than you know.  Much deeper than you will understand for a long time.”  He took another deep breath.  “A level of pollution that we could not afford.”

Clay looked at Keister, who continued to scribble notes.  “What does that mean?”

“Our planet developed with water as well, but far less.  It is precious, the single most important element for all forms of evolution.”

“And yet you had enough to evolve too.”

Palin shrugged.  “Until now.”

“What does that mean?”

Palin looked at Clay.  “Our planet is dying.  We have suffered a cataclysmic event which has vaporized most of our only two oceans.  We have had to turn underground for what little water is left.  But our ecosystem is near extinction, as are we.  The portal that you have seen may be our last technological achievement.  We have exhausted many of our remaining resources to build it, and to come here.”

“Are you telling me that you’re trying to save your planet?” Clay asked.

“We are trying to save our planet and our race.”

Clay leaned back in his chair.  Keister told him that one of the first rules was to not appear surprised at anything.  Clay was having a very difficult time appearing calm, when almost every time Palin spoke, he dropped a bomb.  They were not here to destroy us.  They were here to save themselves as part of some last ditch effort.  Of course, it was possible he was lying, but so far, everything seemed to fit.  All he could think about was Stevas almost foaming at the mouth to blow them up.

“So,” he said, “you’re just taking our water...and that doesn’t strike you as problematic.”

Palin shook his head.  “You have more than you need.  More than you will ever need.  Besides, your polar ice caps are now melting to compensate.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Clay replied.  This time, Palin looked confused.  “You’re taking too much water, too fast.  And if you’re relying on the melting of our caps to compensate, then we are all in serious trouble.”  Not surprisingly, Palin was not following.  Clay continued.  “We have had several quakes in our south pole which has destabilized large areas of an ice shelf.  The water level has dropped enough to cause a shift in pressure, which is about to result in a tsunami that will kill millions of people.”

Palin considered what he said.  He thought about it for a long time before answering.  “We’re not stealing your water.”

Clay smirked.  “Then what do you call it?”

Palin gave him an almost puzzled look.  “If you have more than enough, should you not give it?”

Clay opened his eyes wide with disbelief.  “Not at the cost of millions of lives.”

“This tsunami will not kill everyone.  Most will survive, will they not?”

“Yes but-”

“Is it not better to save both races than let one perish?”  Palin asked.

Clay shook his head incredulously.  “This is not a business transaction.”

“History, for both of our worlds, is filled with millions and millions of meaningless deaths.  Wars over lands or resources that later meant nothing.  The worst, over religious beliefs, which were nothing more than emotional ideas being systematically forced onto others.  Humans, both of us, have given much less thought and value to life than my people are doing now.”

Palin’s reference to humans struck Clay oddly.  “You said humans, as in both of us.  I still don’t understand.  How can you be human yet from a different planet?”

Palin sighed.  “Do you remember when I told you about the cycles within carbon?”

“Yes.”

“The process of evolution is not random.  Everything is determined by certain limits or preferences, and evolution is no different.  Carbon, like all elements, has its own characteristics, which means that it will react uniquely to a force placed upon it.  When the force is evolution, carbon has tendencies, call them ‘paths of least resistance’.  This means that, over time, those tendencies within carbon will lean toward certain types of biological structures and designs which prove practical.  Again, things like hands and feet, eyes and ears, brains, muscles, and fingers, are all practical assets to furthering the process.  This is one reason we look alike.”

“Just one reason?” Clay asked.

Palin smiled.  “Yes.  The second reason, and perhaps the most important, is where the elements came from that created us, our solar systems, our planets, even our soil and air.  These elements are all released when a star explodes, resulting in the end of the fusion process within that star.  My point is that when the star explodes, it scatters these elements over a great distance, including the same amino acids.  You see, the reason we are so similar is because it was a giant explosion that fertilized both of our solar systems with the same elements.  We were created by the same atomic building blocks.  This, along with carbon’s natural tendencies during evolution, is why we are so very similar.”  Palin leaned forward in his chair.  “Mr. Clay, we are your evolutionary brothers and sisters.”

Clay’s mouth suddenly fell open, and Keister dropped his notebook.  They were both speechless.

“You see,” Palin continued, “letting one of us perish is like allowing your only true relative in the universe to disappear.”

32

Clay sat staring out of the window as the Gulfstream III neared Andrews Air Force Base.  It was late afternoon and the sun was casting an eastern shadow across the Virginia landscape.  As the aircraft banked right, Clay could see Washington D.C. in the distance.  His favorite landmark from the air, the Washington Monument, was easy to see.  Even though few passengers did, Clay reached over and buckled his seatbelt as they began to descend.  Gulfsteams were small and comfortable commercial jets used by the military, and passengers never bothered with most of the safety precautions.  However, after having run training maneuvers through many different types, most SEALs were intimately familiar with all aspects of an aircraft.  They knew where the strongest parts of the structure were, the weakest, which areas failed first during impact, and a host of other details.  Most Special Forces graduates he knew were sticklers for safety, especially while riding in things over which they had no control.

Clay lay back against the headrest.  Chaotic was the best word he could think of to describe the last several hours since he had spoken with Palin.  When they returned to the conference room, things had changed drastically.  The President and his cabinet were in private meetings for over three hours.  When finished, Clay noticed that several high ranking Generals had joined them.  Langford had already sent Caesare and Borger back to D.C. to continue analyzing the data.  Both doctors were gone and only Lawrence, the man from the DOE, remained.  Finally, after a short discussion, Langford sent him back too.

After landing, Clay had a car issued to him and headed west on Suitland Parkway.  The sun was close to setting and the drive was slow, as everyone headed home in rush hour traffic.  Crossing the bridge to South Capitol Street, the traffic lightened a little.  At 395, it slowed again.  He made his way over the 14th Street Bridge and pulled into the emptying parking lot of the Pentagon.  He had barely landed when Caesare called and asked if he could swing by Borger’s office before heading home.  Clay walked briskly through an entrance and down a flight of stairs.

When he walked in, Caesare and Borger were both sitting in the middle of the room talking to each other.

“Hi, Clay!”  Uncharacteristically, Borger jumped up from the chair and ushered Clay in.  He motioned to a chair for Clay, while he shut the door behind him.  “Thanks for coming.”

Clay nodded and sat down heavily.  “Everything okay?” Caesare asked.

Clay shrugged.  “I guess it depends on your definition of okay.”  He ran his fingers through his hair.  “Things got interesting when I got back upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Caesare said, “we got shipped out of there in a hurry.  Must have been some conversation you had with ole’ Palin.”

“You could say that.”  He looked at Borger, who was examining the walls.  “What’s with him?”

“I don’t know.”  Caesare said, looking back at him.  “He just scanned the room for bugs.  He wants to talk to us about something important, but wanted to wait for you.”

Clay watched Borger curiously.  After he was finished, he came back and sat in front of Clay and Caesare.  “Okay, we’re clean,” he said, adjusting himself in the chair.  He began immediately.  “Look, I need to talk to you guys about something.”

They both nodded.

“I think we have a problem, a very big problem.”  Clay could not remember seeing Borger this excited.  “I think that guy Lawrence, in our meeting at JAX, is wrong.  And I mean really wrong.  When the President asked if there was any downside to destroying the ring and he said ‘no’, well, I think there is.  You see, we know this ring is a portal, and if it is operating on the same fundamental theories as we believe it would operate-”

“We?” Clay interrupted.

Borger shook his head.  “Not we as in us, we as in our physicists.  Anyway, if it works the same way, which I believe it does, then the other end of that tunnel is literally bound to this end.  They are both exactly the same size, they’re turning at the same speed, and powered by the same energy…which means that space and time would see them as one gateway.”

“So…” Caesare said, slowly, “if you destroyed one…”

“Then you would destroy them both!” Borger replied excitedly.  “Why that guy would say the ring was self-contained makes no sense.  How on earth could he believe that?  Either he is seriously incompetent, or he is lying for some reason that makes no sense.”

Caesare cleared his throat.  “Well, I wouldn’t rule out the incompetent part.  After all, he does work for the government.”

Clay squinted and looked at Caesare.  “You work for the government.”

Caesare raised his hands and shrugged.  “Need I say more?”

Clay turned back to Borger.  “So what happens if they destroy the ring, if they are bound to each other?”

“Well this is where it gets theoretical.  But the physics involved are solid.  And remember that the amount of energy involved here is pretty much unimaginable, given today’s standards.”  Borger stopped and exhaled, trying to slow down.  “Destroying these rings, with the energy involved, could be really bad.”

Clay and Caesare both leaned forward.  “How bad?”

Borger nodded, but spoke carefully.  “Like really really bad, for both planets.”

“Oh, boy,” mumbled Caesare.

“This is serious!” cried Borger.  “It’s why I wanted to talk to you both right away.”

Clay sat, thinking.  “How sure are you?  I mean, what kind of chances are we talking about?”

“I don’t know.”  Borger said, shaking his head.  He wheeled himself backward and tapped his keyboard, displaying a screen full of complex mathematical calculations.  “Only a physicist could talk to you about the odds.  I don’t know what the exact numbers are, but they’re real.  In fact, it almost doesn’t matter what the odds are.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m a history buff.  Remember the atomic bomb we dropped on Hiroshima?  Did you know that the physicists who created it, led by Robert Oppenheimer, actually calculated and acknowledged that there was a one in three million chance that the fission process might not stop when it was supposed to and could go on to melt down the entire Earth?”

“Is that true?” Clay asked.

“Yes, it is.”  Borger scooted his chair back to Clay and Caesare.  “My point is, they knew there was a one in three million chance of destroying the entire planet, and they tested it anyway!  Obviously, that didn’t happen, but they still took the chance.  They put everyone’s life on the line on the presumption that they were right.”  He looked back at the screen.  “I don’t know what the odds are with destroying those rings, but I can tell you they are a whole hell of a lot lower than that!  This time I would guess the odds are somewhere around one in five.  And this time, it’s possible that we could destroy two planets!”

“Jesus Christ,” Caesare said, putting his hands over his face.  “This just gets better and better.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Clay said.

Caesare dropped his hands and looked forlornly at Clay.  “What?”

Clay sighed and proceeded to tell them about his conversation with Palin.  When he was done, they both had the same reaction as he and Keister had.  He waited for them to digest it before continuing.  “And it gets worse.  Langford was in on those closed-door meetings afterwards.  When he came out, he pulled me aside and explained that they had been discussing two things.  First and foremost were the details of the submarine attack, which we all know about.  The rest of the meeting however, was about Plan B.”

“Plan B?” Borger asked.

Caesare frowned.  “There is always a Plan B.  The backup plan.  In fact, there is probably a backup plan to the backup plan.  Let me guess.  Stevas?”

Clay nodded.  “Stevas is no dummy.  He’s an ass and a war monger, but he is not stupid.  He knows that there must be a backup plan, and that’s what they were working out.”

Caesare studied Clay.  “So do you know what this backup plan is?”

“Langford told me that if the sub attack fails, then they plan to nuke it.”

“Jesus.”  Caesare moaned and put his hand over his face again.  “Those subs have all the nukes they could need.”

“No.”  Clay shook his head.  “That’s not how they plan to do it.  That was the original idea, but they have another angle.  They plan to send it in…on the back of one of those dolphins.”

“The talking dolphins?” Borger asked.

“Yes,” Clay answered.  “Apparently, Stevas is now a believer.  They know where the ring is, they’ve been there before, and if Palin’s people are looking at the subs, they probably aren’t going to be looking too closely at the fish swimming in and out.”  Clay looked back and forth at them.  “Remote detonation.”

The room was silent.  No one spoke.

“And that’s not all.”  Clay finally said.

Caesare moaned again.  “For the love of God!”

Clay spoke deliberately.  “Langford wants us to do it.”

They both looked confused.  “He wants us to do what?”

“He wants us to steal the dolphins and the equipment.”

33

Kathryn leaned her seat back and tried to get comfortable as they pulled away from the gate.  This plane was large and comfortable compared to the last two she had been on.  It was amazing what a little heat and lack of a pressurized flight suit could do to improve someone’s experience.  She felt like a new person after being fed and getting a few undisturbed hours of sleep.

She closed her eyes and thought about what lay ahead of her, the flight back to the Falklands, the explanation to her team, and a frantic attempt to prevent a catastrophe.  The long flight was the least of her worries.  If anything, it was a blessing, giving her time to figure out how to tell her team that some of them had to go back.

She thought back to the meeting with the President and his cabinet.  At least they listened to her this time, although it may have had something to do with her essentially telling them all to go to hell.  But it also got a commitment from the President to give her whatever resources she needed, so maybe it was not all bad.  In addition to the money, he ordered his Chief of Staff Mason to make available whoever Kathryn needed, with no exceptions.  Her first order of business was to contact a number of international experts that she would need in addition to her own team.  The second priority was to locate some of the best demolition teams in the country.  Something Mason and his staff were working on.  Next, was to procure the supplies needed.  And finally, they had to do it all quietly.  Yes, she thought, she had a lot to work through.  A long flight was just what she needed.

She opened a backpack and retrieved a laptop computer provided by one of the administrative assistants at JAX.  She placed it on the table in front of her and turned it on.  As she leaned her seat forward again, the door behind her opened, and a steward approached with a phone in his hand.

“Ms. Lokke?” he asked.

“Yes?”

He handed her the phone.  “You have a call.”

She gave him a surprised look and glanced through the window at the dark tarmac passing under them.  “Now?”

He simply nodded and left.

She held the phone to her ear.  “Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Lokke?”

“Speaking.”

“Ms. Lokke, my name is John Clay.  I don’t know if you remember me, but we met this morning in the conference room.”

“I remember you,” she replied.  “Weren’t you the one that asked me the causality question?”

She could not hear Clay smile on the other end.  “Yes, I did.  You have a very good memory.  Listen, Ms. Lokke, I know this may not be an ideal time, but I have something important to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“This is going to sound like a strange question,” Clay said, “but could other outside factors contribute to a collapse of the ice shelf?”

She frowned.  “What kind of outside factors?”

“Say, for example, vibrations or shock waves?”

Kathryn thought for a moment.  “I suppose it would have to depend on what kind of shock waves and how strong they were.”

“Well, as you probably know, the government sometimes conducts underwater detonations of weapons for testing purposes,” Clay said.

“Shock waves or vibrations do travel well underwater, but I suspect those kinds of detonations would be too small to have much of an effect.  The ice shelf is very far away.  Unless, of course, one of your tests were carried out very close to it.”

“I see,” said Clay.  “And what if the magnitude were much greater, say a nuclear detonation?”

Kathryn’s eyes opened wide.  “Are you telling me that you have a nuclear test planned?  Where?!”

“The mid-Atlantic,” answered Clay.

“Yes! That would be very dangerous.  It’s a straight shot down the Atlantic, directly to the Ronne!”

“I was afraid of that.”

“Mr. Clay, listen to me.” Kathryn pressed the phone to her ear, as the plane’s engines grew louder in preparation for takeoff.  “If you guys are planning a nuclear test in the Atlantic, you must stop immediately!  Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am. I do.”

Clay thanked Kathryn and ended the call.  He was quiet for a long moment before turning to Caesare and Borger, who were listening, “So…how bad do you guys want your pensions?”

Caesare shrugged.  “Well, if there ends up being no place to spend it...”

They both looked at Borger, who shook his head.  “Don’t look at me, I’m a contractor.”

Clay walked forward and sat down in front of them.  He sat, thinking, then turned to Borger.  “Will, do you have any hacking skills?”

He nodded.  “In my last job, I was a White Hat.”

“What’s a White Hat?” Caesare asked.

“People that hack computers for nefarious purposes are called Black Hats.”  He grinned.  “White Hats are the guys who catch them.”

34

The small airfield in Homerville, Georgia looked like something out of an old Hollywood movie.  The runway looked nearly abandoned and barely usable.  A row of two dozen hangars lined the west side of the field near the entrance, most of which were empty collecting dust and leaves.  Not far away stood what was left of a small café, boarded up with a crooked sign hanging precariously from the roof that read “Dolly’s Café”.

Standing alone, near the south end of the field, was a small building.  It was the only sign of life left from what appeared to be a popular stop-through decades before.  Its sign was still intact and read “Homerville Rotorheads”.  It just grazed Steve Caesare’s head when he walked under it.  Caesare turned the doorknob, noting the peeling paint, and heard the familiar jingle of a bell hitting the other side of the door as it swung open.  He looked around the room and came back to the small desk in the middle.  Loaded with papers, it was the only thing that looked to be recently used.

“One sec!” someone called from the back.

Caesare nodded and turned to a small rack on the wall.  He picked out one of the brochures on chartering.  Most of the others looked about as old as Dolly’s Café.

An old man appeared through the doorway behind the desk.  He was dressed in an old flannel shirt and blue jeans.  His hair was completely white, matching his mustache, and combed neatly.  “You must be the fella that called earlier,” he said.  “Steve, right?”

“Yes, sir.”  Caesare replied, reaching out to shake his hand.

“My name’s Charlie.”  His chair squeaked loudly when he sat down. “So what do you want to rent my helicopter for?”

“I work for a movie production company and we’re scouting the area for locations,” Caesare answered.

Charlie wrinkled his nose and looked out through the window.  “What kind of movie you making out here?”

“Uh, an action movie.  Military type.  I’m one of the consultants.”

“I never really cared for those action flicks.  Two hours of someone shooting everything in sight.” Charlie said.  “You military?”

Caesare nodded.  “I’m retired.”

Charlie looked him over.  “You know how to fly a helicopter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Got a license?”

“Yes, sir.” Caesare answered.  He handed Charlie a picture of him standing in front of a large Seahawk helicopter with his helmet tucked under his arm.

Charlie looked at the photo and then handed it back. “Eh, you’re fine.”  He stood up and walked around the desk.  “Let me show her to you.”

As Caesare followed him back out the front door, he asked, “How long you been here, Charlie?”

Charlie chuckled.  “Hell, I don’t think I can count that high anymore.  Feels like forever.”  He led him around the corner of the building.  “Let’s see, I opened this place up in ’64, so I guess we’re well over fifty years now.  Wife died nine years ago, and I just ain’t got all that much else to do.  And the rent’s cheap.”  He laughed at his own joke and led Caesare around a small group of trees.  When they rounded the trees, Caesare’s smile disappeared.

Charlie nodded to the small chopper on an old, cracked concrete pad.  “Only one I got that’s worth a damn.”

Caesare stood looking at it.  It was a small two-seater, but what he was not expecting was the long bar extending out almost ten feet beneath the skids.  “A crop duster?”

***

Clay walked calmly down the hall approaching Palin’s interrogation room.  He glanced at his watch as he neared the door.  He nodded at the first guard, who looked him over.  “No Keister?” the guard asked.

Clay shook his head.  “Just me tonight.”

The guard grunted and reached for his access card.  As he turned toward the door, Clay was instantly on him.  In one move, he wrapped his left hand around the guard’s mouth and kicked his supporting foot out from under him, pulling him off balance.  In a panic, the guard fired several rounds into the ceiling as he fell back against Clay, unable to breathe or get his footing.  In the same movement, using his right hand, Clay pulled a stun gun from behind him and fired two electrified prongs into the right leg of the second guard.  The second guard screamed in pain, dropped his rifle and fell to the ground.  The ten thousand volts ravaged his muscular system, causing him to convulse wildly.  The first guard dropped his gun and tried desperately to right himself and regain his balance, but Clay kept taking steps backward, knowing the human body’s instinctual reaction is to avoid falling as its first priority.  The guard, still struggling and reaching behind him for something to grab, inhaled the mixture soaked into the cloth glove on Clay’s left hand.  The chloroform was already beginning to confuse his senses.

Clay continued moving backward to keep the guard stumbling, but then made a quick turn in the hallway and began walking backward toward the second guard.  The guard on the floor was trying desperately to fight the seizures and reach his gun with his shaking hands.  Just as he got close, Clay dropped the larger, sagging guard on top of him and kicked the rifle out of reach.  The second guard, now beneath the first, tried to get free, but instantly felt Clay’s cloth glove over his own mouth.  Less than a minute later, they were both unconscious.

Clay pulled out some handcuffs and rags.  He quickly bound and gagged both men.  Stepping over the first guard, Clay yanked the access card free.  He looked up and down the long quiet hallway, swiped the card, and opened the door.

Clay stepped into the room and paused. Looking up at the cameras, he hoped Borger had done his thing with the video feed.  Not hearing any alarms, he moved across the room to Palin, who was already sitting up after hearing the disturbance outside.

Clay removed a pair of cutters from his pocket and looked Palin over, but he was not bound. “We have to go.”

Palin looked concerned. “What is wrong?”

“Your people and the ring are in danger.”  Clay said, pulling Palin to his feet.  “Are you injured?”

“No,” Palin said.  “What do you mean ‘in danger’?”

“My government is going to launch a submarine strike to destroy the ring.”

Palin’s face looked surprisingly calm.  “It’s okay.”

“What?”

“It’s okay,” Palin repeated, “we have anticipated this.”

Clay shook his head.  “Well, if it doesn’t work, they are going to strap a nuclear weapon to a dolphin and send it in that way.  Have you anticipated that?”

Palin’s eyes opened wide.  “No.”

“I didn’t think so.”  Clay looked at his watch again.  “And, by the way, when that bomb goes off, if we’re even still here, the shock wave may be strong enough to reach the South Pole and trigger the tsunami all by itself.”

“I must get back!” Palin had a look of panic in his eyes.

“You don’t say,” Clay said sarcastically.  “We have to get out of here.  Can you move?”

“Yes!” Palin was suddenly eager.

“Can you run?”  Clay asked.

“I can!”

“Good.”  Clay grabbed his shoulder and started moving for the door.  He suddenly stopped as the door opened from the other side.  Slowly the barrel of a gun crept in, and was pointed at them.  The deadly face of a marine appeared behind it.

Clay did not move.  He watched the marine take a single step into the room.  Both men stood frozen, staring at each other.

The marine spoke.  “Clay.”

Clay kept his eyes on him.  “Munn.”

Munn lowered his rifle and looked slowly around the room, and then to Palin.  “Interesting timing,” he smirked.  “Almost everyone is on the other side of the base getting ready for some big UN delegation due to land any minute.”

“No kidding,” Clay replied.

Munn looked behind him at the two guards on the floor.  “Are they dead?”

Clay shook his head.  “No.  But the one on the bottom is probably going to limp for a while.”

Munn looked back down at the guard and shrugged.  “He’s an ass anyway.”

Someone behind Munn passed something forward.  Munn grabbed it and tossed it into the room.  It was a large duffle bag.  He looked at Clay.  “It won’t be long before these two are found.  You’d better hurry.”

Clay nodded and led Palin toward the bag.

Munn gave Clay a farewell gesture and disappeared.  He suddenly popped his head back in.  “By the way, we’re now even.”  And he was gone.

Clay quickly unzipped the back and pulled out a dark jumpsuit for Palin.  “Get this on, quickly!”

While Palin dressed, Clay withdrew an AR-15 and ammunition belt loaded with several high capacity magazines.  He also clipped a holster onto his side and dropped a .40 caliber Springfield into it.  No sooner had Palin zipped up the jumpsuit, when Clay grabbed him and shoved him through the door.

They ran back down the hall and up three flights of stairs.  When they reached the first large set of doors, Clay tried the guard’s access card.  The slot buzzed and flashed a red light.  He tried it again.  The loud buzz sounded again.  Clay turned around and looked up at the ceiling mounted camera.

Will Borger was watching Clay and Palin on his monitor.  He quickly typed some keys on his keyboard, and the door behind Clay unlocked with a green light.  Clay put his hand on the handle and motioned Palin to back up.

In one motion, he jerked the door open and trained his rifle through the other side, finger near the trigger.  The bright entryway was empty.  They proceeded quietly, as Clay kept his muzzle trained on the steel door at the end of the hall.  As they neared the end of the hall, Clay looked over his shoulder, checking for Palin.

At the steel door, Clay tried his card again.  No dice.  He waited for Borger.  After ten seconds of silence, he began to grow concerned, but the electronic lock finally clicked.  Clay slowly pushed the door open and looked outside.  It looked empty.  He closed his eyes and listened.  Nothing.  He grabbed Palin and broke into a run, headed for two vehicles on the far side of the open, graveled area.  Palin ran quickly behind him as Clay swept his gun back and forth.

They made it halfway to the first vehicle, a small white Humvee, when the alarm went off. A screeching siren from the building behind them, along with a bright red rotating light, alerted nearly the entire base.

“Crap!”  He looked at Palin.  “Any chance you can teleport us out of here?”

“I need the brick.”

“What brick?” Clay asked.

Palin made a small rectangle with his hands.  “The small silver device you took on the ship.”

Clay suddenly remembered the object.  He looked around absently, trying to remember where he left it.  “Damn it!” he said, when he thought of where it was.  “I don’t have it.”

They watched as a searchlight from a tower in the distance pointed toward them.  They could hear yelling coming from multiple locations and two pair of headlights crested a small hill.

Clay looked back to the building.  “Plan B.”

They ran back to the door, still ajar, then ran back down the entryway.  They reached the stairs and heard faint voices below.  Clay knew there would be men responding from the lower levels.  They were lucky if they had two minutes.

They ran up two flights of stairs and stopped at another door.  Clay looked away and fired three rounds through the lock.  With a hard thrust, he kicked the door open, and he and Palin burst out onto the roof.

It was a large roof.  He could clearly see more headlights in the distance.  Over a dozen men ran towards them on foot.  Bullets suddenly flew overhead and hit the wall of the stairwell behind them.

“Get down!” Clay pushed Palin down onto the cold roof,  and staying low, ran back to the stairs.  He listened to the voices getting louder.  They were coming fast.  More bullets hit the outside wall.  One made it through, scattering pieces of plaster and sheetrock all over the top stair.  Clay looked around the dark roof, where Palin was lying quietly.

The pounding of footsteps grew louder up the stairs.  Clay knelt down and closed the door with only the barrel of his gun visible, pointing downward.  More bullets impacted the wall.  He waited patiently until he saw lights approaching in the stairwell.  He pointed his gun down to the corner where the stairwell made its last turn before ascending to the roof.  The reflection of the lights grew brighter from around the corner.  Finally, when the pounding grew loud enough and the lights reached full brightness, he knew they were close.  He fired three shots into the wall on that last corner.  The footsteps stopped instantly.  The bright lights that were reflecting off the walls suddenly went out.

Clay knew they would take the last flight of stairs slowly now.  Being shot at had that effect.  Clay fired one more bullet into the wall and then backed up and let the door shut.  Staying low, he ran back to Palin.  “You okay?”

Palin nodded.  “Yes.  Although our situation does not look good.”

“I know, I know,” agreed Clay.  This is exactly where he did not want to be.  He slowly slid down onto his belly and got into position, propping up onto his elbows with his gun pointed at the stairs.  He was thankful for the raised edge around the roof, making it difficult to be seen from the ground, and for the men approaching the building.  Clay leveled his eye with the rifle sights and locked in on the dark shape of the roof’s exit door.

Finally, the door slowly started to open.  Inside, it was pitch black, which made it hard to discern who or what was being used to open the door.  When it reached a fully open position, Clay could see something move toward the bottom hinge, something to prop it open.  Just as a muzzle began to poke out, Clay heard something.  It was the sound of an engine.

Suddenly, the dark shape of a helicopter rose up and over the far corner of the building and swept over the roof.  As it passed over the stairwell, a huge deluge of liquid was released from the skids, smashing through the opening and knocking the men inside backwards, slipping and tumbling back down the stairs.

The small helicopter banked hard to the right, as sparks flew off from bullets fired from the ground.  Caesare quickly dipped back down and circled, slowing at the far edge for safety.

“Run!” Clay yelled, pulling Palin to his feet and pushing him forward.  They ran low, as quickly as they could, to the waiting chopper floating just a few feet above the roofline.  As they reached the edge, Clay pushed Palin into the small oval opening of the passenger’s seat.  There was no room for a third person.  Bullets ricocheted again off the side of the helicopter, as marines covered in a slippery liquid came tumbling out of the stairwell.  Clay looked at Caesare sitting in the pilot’s seat.  He gave a quick nod and then motioned over his shoulder.  Caesare nodded back.

Caesare opened the engine wide and tilted away from the building.  In one motion, Clay turned and emptied the rest of his magazine just over the heads of the marines.  He continued his turn, stepping onto the edge of the roof, dropping his rifle, and dove head first off the side of the building.

***

Borger switched the view on his monitor to one of the security cameras at the airstrip.  He started shutting down the sirens as quickly as he could, but men were already running out of the buildings.  They headed for the other side of the base in armored vehicles.  Several ran out onto the nearby tarmac where four UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters sat waiting.  The pilots climbed in, quickly powering up the systems and starting the engines.  The cockpits lit up as all the instruments came to life, and the rotors slowly began turning overhead.  The pilots strapped themselves in and turned their computerized helmets on, waiting for the weapons system to sync with their digitized face plates.

“Uh oh,” Borger said.  He cut all of the lighting to the runway and tarmac, but it was too late.  The cockpit navigation systems on the helicopters were now fully functional.  They could fly with no outside lights or visibility at all.  The rotors increased in speed as they neared the point of lift.

Suddenly, a bright blue wave of light passed over the buildings and across the tarmac.  It passed the choppers and disappeared.  The Black Hawk’s lights and cockpit instruments went out, and the engines died leaving only the sound of the rotors spinning and winding back down.  The pilots inside looked at each other, confused and tried to power back up.  The aircrafts were all dead.

Borger’s eyes widened.  “What the hell was that?”

35

Alison Shaw opened her apartment door and walked through, trying not to spill the large stack of mail in her hands before the door tried to close on her.  She stepped out of the way just in time for it to sweep past, closing loudly behind her.  She tossed the mail onto her kitchen counter and put the keys down next to it.  She then dropped her large shoulder bag onto the carpet.  She looked at the microwave clock and sighed.

She retrieved a wine glass from the cabinet and a bottle of chardonnay from the fridge.  She poured herself a glass, and with a sigh, plopped down onto the couch.  How, she thought, did she ever think things would slow down after IMIS was left to do its thing?  She was busier now than she was before.  Of course, then it was mostly prep work.  Now it was execution.  The project was more successful than she had dared dream.  The system worked, real communication was established, and they were learning more than they ever expected.  Over the last several days, things had really become exciting.  Finding that Dirk and Sally could not only identify a number, but actually count, was a huge discovery.  It opened the door for much deeper cognitive ability and abstract thinking.  What she did not expect was where that would lead.  Dirk and Sally had started asking questions.

No longer were they just asking how she was or what she was eating.  Now, they were trying to form sentences and concepts that seemed even beyond the limits of IMIS.  But, even with their existing vocabulary, the dolphins were asking Alison questions that she struggled to answer.  It started with why humans wore clothes, which was hard enough.  But it was when they asked why people dirty ocean? that she really had trouble.  They wanted to know why humans were polluting the oceans, or the world, for that matter.  This not only showed a deeper awareness of the world around them, but the ability to understand the relationship between humans and their changing world.  The dolphins also seemed curious why the deeper their question, the longer it took for the humans to answer them.  Many earlier studies of the mammals suggested that they had cognitive abilities similar to very small children, which was clearly an enormous underestimation.  This suggested to Alison that our human ability to even test the intelligence of other animals was more limited than we knew.

She took another sip of wine and leaned back, putting a foot up on the edge of her coffee table.  She stared at a Wyland portrait hanging on the wall.  What an incredible world it was, a wonderful world on so many levels.  And, a world that she wanted to share with someone.

She suddenly frowned at that thought.  She thought about her last two relationships.  Both failed, and the last one bordered on abusive.  She realized now that it was after that relationship that she had really thrown herself into work.  It was her way to escape from a terrible time in her life.  And she had come to love Dirk and Sally so much, it gave her an excuse to avoid the possibility of ending up in another bad relationship.  She had been hiding for a long time, and now it had hardened her into someone she didn’t like.  Alison wiped a tear from her eye before it could fall.  She didn’t want to hide anymore.

Unexpectedly, Alison found herself thinking of John Clay.  He was intelligent and interesting, and even had a sense of humor hiding in there somewhere.  She wondered if she was going to see him again.  She hoped she would.  Who was she kidding?  She probably wasn’t even his type.  He was worldly, experienced, and handsome.

Alison wondered where he was.  She wondered what he was doing.  Probably something fun, somewhere exciting, and with multiple women on his arm.

***

John Clay clung to the bottom of the helicopter, desperately trying to hang on as Caesare maneuvered through the tree lines as close to the ground as possible to avoid radar.  Jumping off the roof, Clay collided with the metal skids hard and felt his shoulder dislocate badly.  He felt a searing pain in his left arm as he held on with everything he had.  The constant slapping into treetops prevented him from getting a better hold, or swinging his leg up with Caesare’s zigging and zagging in almost complete darkness.

Clay shifted to give his left arm a break, hanging more from the right side.  He tried again to get his leg over the bar used for crop dusting, but it was covered with liquid insecticide and too slippery to get any kind of grip on.  A large tree limb suddenly hit him in the chest and nearly knocked him off the rail.  His right arm started to shake.  He was not sure how much longer he could hold on.  Clay knew that if he fell at this speed he would not survive.

Inside the cockpit, Caesare had no idea whether John had been able to grab hold in time.  He could not see the right side of the skids and the darkness was not helping.  Palin was grabbing the edge of the open door tightly.  He could see no sign of Clay either.  Caesare hoped he was there but had to assume he wasn’t.  He popped up over a group of tall trees and dove back down again.  It was now up to him to get Palin home.

Almost thirty minutes later, Caesare spotted the clearing he was looking for.  The glow lights on the ground gave enough light to confirm the location, but not enough to see the landing area in any detail.  He came in low and circled the small clearing looking for anything out of the ordinary.  Seeing nothing, he slowed their descent and came down in the center.  With a slight pause just above the ground, he fell the last couple feet and bumped gently on the thick grass.  He turned down the engine and looked at Palin.

“You okay?”

Palin was a little shaken but nodded back.

As the rotor slowed, Caesare jumped out with a nervous knot in his stomach.  He bent down and looked under the frame of the helicopter.  On the other side, he spotted a large shape lying horizontally.  He quickly ran around the front, passing Palin who was stepping carefully down.  Clay was on the ground, clutching his left shoulder and groaning.

“Clay!”  Caesare yelled excitedly.  “You crazy bastard.  Are you okay?”  Caesare rolled him onto his back and saw that Clay’s left shoulder was much higher than his right.  He gently felt the area, front and back.  “It doesn’t feel broken.  Probably dislocated.”

Clay nodded but did not speak.

“I’ll set it for you,” Caesare said.

“Wait, wait.”  Clay protested through clenched teeth.  “Just give me a minute.”

Palin arrived and, together, they sat him up.

Clay looked up at him.  “Are you okay?”

Palin nodded.  Together, he and Caesare helped Clay back down onto the cool grass.

“Ready?”  Caesare reached under his shoulder.

Clay winced, but nodded.  With a sudden motion, Caesare moved the joint, dropping it back into place.  Clay let out a loud groan and rolled back onto his side.  He laid there for a few long minutes, trying to regain his breath.  “Did you have to hit every tree?!”

“Hey, you were the one who wanted to do this in the dark.”

“That’s true.”  Clay forced himself into a sitting position.  He searched for his right pocket and noticed the pistol still in its holster.  “How in the world did that not fall out?”

“See, it couldn’t have been that bad” Caesare joked.

Clay found the pocket and ripped the Velcro open. He pulled out a small padded package, unrolling it until his disposable cell phone fell out.  He turned it on and dialed a number.

A similar phone rang on Borger’s desk.  He answered immediately.  “Clay?”

“Hey, Will.”  Clay gritted his teeth again as the other two helped him onto his feet.  “How did we do?”

“Not too bad,” said Borger, “you were gone before most of them showed up.”  He moved the phone to his other ear and reached for his mouse.  “The darkness helped, and so did the big welcoming party on the other side of the base.  Caesare did pop up high enough a few times to show up on radar, and they are coming after you.  Fortunately, I was able to change the radar’s algorithm, so it reported you moving in the wrong direction.  They are currently pursuing you to the north, so that should give you some time.”

“Okay, they coming in choppers?”  Clay asked.

“Actually no, they are primarily on wheels.”

“What?  No aircraft?”

“No,” answered Borger.  “We got a little help on that front.”

Clay did not know what that meant, and frankly didn’t care.  Whatever luck he had going for them he was not about to question.  “Okay, we’ve got to head out.  Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Borger said, switching windows on his computer screen.  He typed a couple of commands and looked again at the response.  “It looks like our twelve Trident subs are approaching Bimini.”

“Already?  That was fast.”

“Well maybe not,” Borger said.  “Clay…the orders were issued three days ago.”

Clay thought for a moment.  “But that would be before the President ordered them out.”

“Exactly.  So either we were being played by everyone in that room, or-”

“Or someone else had already given the order,” Clay finished.

“Or both.”

Clay looked at Caesare, who was examining the tail of the small helicopter.  Some of the film was peeling off from hitting the trees, revealing the chopper’s real call letters.  “Anything else?”  Clay asked Borger.

“Not for the moment.  We should get off the line.”

“See ya later.” Clay nodded and ended the call.

“What’s up?” Caesare asked, pressing the torn film back into place.

“I’ll explain on the way.”

***

Hank Stevas watched the large group of United Nations delegates and scientists flood the reception area from behind a glass wall.  He shook his head.  This was turning into a circus.

Bill Mason stood behind him on his cell phone.  After a few minutes, he hung up.  “That alarm was from our building on the west side.  Palin is gone.”

Stevas’ eyes narrowed and his face grew red.  “Clay!”

“Why would Clay take him?”

“Because he’s a goddamn boy scout!” Stevas spat.  “And now he knows everything.”  He shook his head angrily.  “I told Langford not to tell him!  I told him I would take care of it, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“So what do we do?” Mason asked.

Stevas looked back at the people continuing to pour into the larger room, smiling and shaking hands.  “Clay knows exactly what we have planned, and even if he didn’t, these people are going to turn this into a political nightmare.  After a week of talking, they’ll form a scientific commission.”  The disgust almost dripped from his lips.  “Democracy is such a poison.”

“When Clay gets Palin home, we’re sunk,” said Mason.

Stevas looked at him.  “If we’re going to do something, we have to do it now.  We’re losing control.”  Stevas pulled out his phone and dialed a number.  He spoke slowly.  “This is Stevas.  Do it.”

There was a pause while someone on the other end spoke.  “That’s right.  I am speaking with the full authority of the President.”

He hung up.  “If he won’t do anything, we will.”

“So where is Clay headed?”

Stevas thought it over.  “He’s headed South.”

36

Alison suddenly awoke to someone pounding on her front door.  Trying to get her bearings, she sat up and grabbed her robe off the back of the door.  She shuffled quickly down the dark hallway, flipping on the kitchen light, before she reached the door and looked through the peephole.  In one motion, she unlocked the deadbolt and stepped back, swinging the door open.  Chris Ramirez was on the other side, covered in sweat and out of breath.

“Chris what are you-”

“It’s gone!  It’s all gone, Alison!”

She looked confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“Everything!  Everything is gone!  The servers, IMIS, and the dolphins, Alison!  Dirk and Sally are gone too!”

Alison was in shock.  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.  She tried to form words, but could only shake her head in disbelief.

***

The lab was empty.  Cleared out.  Alison could not believe it.  Wiring and parts of the computers were strewn all over the floor.  One of the desks was overturned, and dozens of books scattered around it.  The racks of servers and all of their data, the heart of IMIS, were gone.  The entire wall where they had once stood looked eerily blank.  And the worst part was the tank; filled with nothing but water.  Dirk and Sally were gone.

Alison felt nauseous, grabbing the corner of a table for support.  She felt like she was going to be sick.  Across the room, Lee Kenwood picked through what was left on the floor.  He kicked over books and pieces of metal left from the server racks.  Chris stood next to Alison, silently.

Alison simply could not speak.  She could not find any words.  Her chest felt tight, as if on the verge of a heart attack.  Her face was flushed, and she was doing all she could to keep from bursting into tears.

Behind her, Frank Dubois burst into the room.  “What in the hell…,” he said shaking his head.  “What…what happened?” he asked to no one in particular.

Alison’s nausea suddenly turned to anger.  It welled up inside her uncontrollably.  She turned and almost screamed at him.

“Are you happy, Frank?!  Are you happy now?!  Everything we worked for, everything is gone!”  She looked at him with disdain.  “You just had to do it, didn’t you?!  You just took their money!  You just sold out to anyone who would give it to you!  You make me sick!”

Dubois was stunned.  He looked around, confused.  “What are you talking about?  What…what happened?  Who did this?”

“Who did this?” she screamed.  “Who the hell do you think?!  The government!  I told you they wanted this from the beginning.  Did you think they were just going to let us tinker the whole time?!”

“Government?” he said, shaking his head.  “The government as in who?”

“The Navy!” she replied disgustedly.  “They knew what we were doing from the very beginning!”

“The Navy?”

“Yes, the Navy!” she cried.  “And I’ll tell you exactly who…John Clay!”  Alison could not believe she ever liked that bastard.  She felt so angry and hurt at the same time.  “He’s such a liar!” she growled.  Everybody stood looking at her.

“Well, then, I say we hang him!” a voice said behind her.

She whirled around to see Clay standing behind them along with Caesare and Palin.  They all looked exhausted.  Clay looked like he had been in a bar room brawl, and lost.

Alison’s eyes opened wide with rage.  She ran at him and slapped at his face.  “You did this!”

Clay caught her hand a few inches from his cheek.  “Easy, Alison.”

“Don’t call me Alison!” she barked.  “You-”

“I didn’t do this,” he said calmly.

Alison was taken aback.  She just stared at him, frozen.  She suddenly was not sure what to say.  She shook her head disbelievingly.

Clay looked at her calmly.  “If I had done this, why would I be here now?”  He turned and looked at Caesare and Palin.  “Why would we be here?”

Alison stumbled for words.  Why indeed?  “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

He gave a slight shake of his head.  “I’m not sure.”

Everyone stood looking each other over.  Finally, Caesare dropped a giant duffle bag on the floor.  “Well, that was a hell of a greeting.”

Alison put her hands on her hips.  “Well, if you didn’t do this, why are you here?”

“I need something.  Something I accidentally left when I was here last.”  Clay said.  “It’s that small silver object about the size of a deck of cards.”  He made an approximation with his hands.

“What’s it for?” she asked.

“It’s a long story, but it’s important.”

She folded her arms.  “I’ll give it to you when you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Clay sighed and looked at Caesare and Palin.  They both shrugged.  “It’s complicated,” he began.  “When I was here last…Dirk talked about a city under the water.”

“I remember.”

“Well this is Palin,” he said, motioning backward.  “He’s from that city.  Our government wants to destroy it, and their power plant, which could have some really nasty side effects.”

“Why?”

Clay exhaled. “Basically, because they’re idiots.”

Alison’s eyes narrowed.  “Okay, I’m inclined to agree with that.”

***

Will Borger reached for his cup and took another sip of coffee.  He watched his monitor carefully and noticed a call originate from Stevas’ cell phone.  He leaned in closer and started typing on his keyboard to reveal the number it was placed to.  He traced the second number through the system.  It belonged to the cell phone of Bruce Bishop, the Navy Chief.  Borger continued watching as another call was then placed from Bishop’s phone.  With a bit more work, Borger found that Bishop’s call was to a Naval Operations Center.

Borger brought up another window and watched the screen of data scroll by.  He stopped it midway through, zeroing in on multiple outbound messages beginning with the word “Alert”.  It was an encrypted message which meant that Borger could not read it.  He stared at it for a long time, then had an idea.  The message was encrypted, but perhaps the log file that generated and sent it was not.  It took him about fifteen minutes to locate the correct server, log in, and find the log file itself.  Matching the time of the Alert messages and the log file entries, he found the generating code.  It was not encrypted.  Borger quickly reassembled the bits and the message reappeared.

Oh no.  He thought to himself.  The message was a command to the subs.  He suddenly thought about the ring and realized what had been eluding him all this time.  “The Alabama!”  He quickly turned to a second monitor and brought up another window.  He found the data logs that Clay had given him from the Alabama and frantically searched through pages of diagnostic information.  Finding the first piece he needed, Borger printed it out and kept searching.  A few moments later, he found the second and printed again.  He grabbed both pieces of paper and placed them next to each other.  He started scribbling calculations in the margins. After a few minutes, he had it.  Borger grabbed the cell phone and dialed as fast as he could.

***

Clay was in the middle of a sentence when the cell phone rang in his pocket.  He held up a hand apologetically, and flipped it open.  “Go ahead, Will.”

“Clay!” Borger nearly shouted.  “We’ve got a problem!  Actually, a couple of ‘em.”

“What is it?” He calmly looked at Alison and her team.

“The subs have just been ordered to fire on the ring!  But that’s not the worst part.,”  Borger said in a rush.  “I think this is going to end badly, for us.  Remember the Alabama?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, their mission was cancelled because they had a computer malfunction when identifying their location.  Clay, there was no malfunction!”

Clay’s eyebrows rose.  “What do you mean, no malfunction?”

“Remember that the Alabama’s systems suddenly put it fifteen miles off course, which was thought to be a computer glitch.  But the computers were right!  They were always right.  The Alabama got too close to the ring, Clay.  It got too close to the ring and was instantly transported to the other side.  Granted, their angle was a little off, but that’s why the computers said they were suddenly somewhere else.  Because they were.”

Clay rolled his eyes.  Of course!  Now it all made sense.  The sudden GPS change, the clocks that were still in sync, even the sound that the sonar operator heard just before it happened.  But then, he looked puzzled.  “So why is that a problem?”

“Clay, those subs are about to fire a bunch of armed torpedoes at the ring.  I think the same thing is going to happen.  What if those torpedoes come out the other side?”

“Jesus,” Clay said.  “Is there time to warn them?”

Borger’s voice became grim.  “I don’t think so.”

Clay gave Caesare and Palin a look that matched Borger’s tone.

“Clay, there’s something else.”  Borger said softly.

“Of course there is,” he replied sarcastically.

“When this fails, I’m sure they are going to try sending in the nuke, using the dolphins.  But there is something we haven’t considered.”  Borger looked down at his calculations.  “Remember we asked Ms. Lokke about a nuclear blast under water, and its shock waves reaching the South Pole?  Well, what we didn’t ask is what happens when billions of tons of water get vaporized in that blast.”

Clay thought about it.  “It’s going to create a vacuum.”

“Of course.  That water is going to disappear instantly, creating a massive surge which rushes in to fill it, a surge that will include water flowing away from the ice shelf at a rapid pace.”

Clay closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Will, I’m really beginning to hate talking to you on the phone.”

“Clay,” Borger said. “We have to stop that nuke.”

Clay looked at Alison and her team.  “I’m working on that.”

Caesare looked at Clay as he hung up.  “What now?”

“The Tridents are engaging, and that nuke is going to cause a whole hell of a lot of damage.”

Lee Kenwood spoke up.  “Is this about the city?”

Clay nodded.  “And about your dolphins.”  He turned back to Alison.  “Alison, your dolphins were taken because they know where the city is.  They’ve been there.  They were taken because our government is going to use them to nuke Palin and his people.  They plan on strapping an atomic warhead to your dolphins’ backs and sending them in.  And they’re going to do it soon.”

Alison gasped.  “No!”

“Those sons of bitches!” Chris growled.

“Where is this city?” she asked.

“Not far.  Off the coast of Bimini.”

Alison nodded, silently, and then walked over to one of the tables.  She bent down and picked up her backpack.  Reaching inside, she retrieved Palin’s cube.  “I assume this is yours.”  She handed it directly to Palin.  She was certainly not going to admit to anyone that she kept it as a reason to call Clay.

Palin smiled and took it gently from her hand.  At the same time, Caesare dropped down and unzipped his bag.  He pulled out more rifles and magazines of ammo, handing some to Clay.

Clay looked at Alison.  “We need to get your team somewhere safe.  After that, we need to borrow your boat.”

They looked at each other, suddenly concerned.  “Why?” Alison asked.

“Because now that you’ve talked to us, you are no longer safe.”  Clay shrugged.  “We also kinda busted out of jail.”

“You did?!” she said with surprise.

They all turned to Caesare.

Caesare looked aggravated.  “Why the hell does everyone always think I’m the one that’s been in jail?!”

Clay checked the magazine in his gun and slapped it back in.  “Anyone here have a safe place to hide?  A vacation home, friend’s cabin, anything like that?”

Alison frowned.  “Apparently, you’re not familiar with how grant funding works.”

“You’ve got me there.  Are there any other ways out of here other than the service hallway and the main entrance?”

“Yes,” answered Dubois.  “There is a maintenance corridor back there.”  He pointed to a dark corner near the end of the tank.  “It’s not used often, but it will get us outside.”

“Good,” said Clay.  “What I want you to do-” He suddenly stopped.  Alison started to say something, but he cut her off with a raised hand.  He listened carefully.

Caesare was also listening.  They both looked up, then back to the dark hallway.  “We’ve got company.”

Just then, a bullet zipped past Clay and hit Dubois in the chest, ripping a hole through him.  He was dead by the time he hit the ground.

“Get down!” Clay instantly jumped on top of Alison and reached out to pull Chris down with them.

Caesare was also moving.  He zipped around, grabbed Palin, and used the momentum to throw him into Lee Kenwood, knocking them both over like bowling pins.  He opened fire immediately, showering the hallway with bullets.  Caesare’s return fire bought them a few seconds of delay, as they all hit the ground and scurried behind a row of large, heavy desks.

Clay quickly crawled forward, grabbing and pushing Palin, Alison, Chris, and Lee, ahead of him.  He motioned for them all to lie down on the ground and become as small a target as possible.  While Caesare shot back, Clay grabbed a long table behind him and tipped it over.  He pushed it forward against the back of the desks to add a second layer of protection.  The monitor on the desk above them suddenly exploded.  Three slugs could be heard hitting the thick metal on the other side of the desk.  Clay had the others scoot forward and stay behind the upturned table.  He then took a defensive position and fired back.

A loud grunt could be heard from the hallway, and one of the silhouettes fell to the floor.  Clay and Caesare came back down, knelt behind the desks, replacing their magazines without looking.  More shots came from the hallway.  Caesare looked at Clay.  “You hear that?”

Clay nodded.  “They’re coming closer.”  Two bullets skipped off the top of the desk and over Clay’s head, impacting the giant tank behind them.  The bullets were stopped dead in the glass.  Clay looked up at the tank and then over to Alison.  “How thick is that glass?”

Alison was cringing at the sound of the gunfire.  She tried to think.  “Six inches…it’s six inches.”

“Good,” Clay said.  He looked around at what he could see of the room.  Caesare unloaded another magazine and reached for a replacement.  “Where is that corridor?” Clay asked her.

She took one of her hands away from her ears and pointed to the corner of the room behind her.  Clay followed her pointing hand and could see the subtle lines of a small door, close to where the tank met the building.  It was almost a clear shot to the door along the back side of the desks, but there was about ten feet of open space between the last table and the door.  When he heard a short lull from the other side, he quickly rose and fired three rounds into the hallway.  He looked at Caesare, pointed down the line of furniture, and then pointed to the wall where the small door was.

Caesare squinted toward the door and then nodded his head.  He grabbed another magazine and looked up at the ceiling.  He turned to Clay, covered his eyes for a moment, and then made some kind of flashing sign with his hands.  Clay looked up and then nodded back.  Four more rounds hit the top of the desk and lodged themselves into the tank’s glass, next to the others.  He reached over and grabbed Alison, pulling her close.

He whispered loudly in her ear.  “We have to get you three out of here!”  Behind him, Caesare unloaded another magazine.  “We’re going to take out the lights.  That should give you time to make it to the door.  When you get outside, look before you run.  If it’s clear, you run like hell.  Find some place safe.  Don’t worry about us.”

Alison nodded and looked back to Chris and Lee.  She turned around and whispered to them.  Clay watched them.  None seemed frozen or in panic, which meant they were at least thinking.  Scared to death but thinking.  That was a hell of a lot better than freezing like a deer in headlights.

Clay turned back and got Caesare’s attention.  Steve nodded and reached into his bag to withdraw a large light.  He grabbed the cord and plugged it into the nearest power strip.  Caesare nodded again.  With that Clay quickly turned back and mouthed the words to Alison.  “Get ready.”  She nodded back, putting her hands on the floor, ready to move.

Clay and Caesare changed their locations behind the desks.  Then simultaneously, they both rose up over the top.  Caesare fired at their attackers, while Clay aimed carefully at the ceiling, destroying all four of the overhead lights and plunging the huge room into darkness.  “Go!” he whispered loudly.  He heard the sound of them quickly crawling away.

The firing stopped briefly.  On the floor, Caesare grabbed the top of his light and placed it atop the desk.  Neither of them moved.  Instead, they counted.  They knew that it normally took five to ten seconds for an expert to transition to a pair of night vision goggles.  It was a normal part of tactical training, which allowed a soldier to continue even in pitch black.  By magnifying what little light there was by fifty thousand times, night vision goggles provided more than enough vision to continue the fight.  The drawback of course was that it magnified all light by fifty thousand times.

Caesare got to seven and flipped the switch on the two million candle mega-lamp.  It instantly flooded the entire room like a search light, blinding the five men who had expected Clay and Caesare to be donning their own goggles.  Instead, the intense magnification of the search light rendered them unable to see anything at all.  At that moment, Alison and the others ran into the open, toward the door.  Clay and Caesare came up over the desks and opened fire, dropping all five of them.

They both sat down quickly and reloaded.  They could hear the small door click shut in the distance.

“Any more?”  Clay asked.

“Don’t know.”  Caesare turned and scanned again.  Then just as he swung to the right, he saw something out of the corner of his eye.  A muzzle flashed from the second hallway leading to the main entrance.  With less cover from that direction, the bullet ripped through a stack of binders and hit Caesare in the right shoulder.  He yelled and fell backward, emptying the rest of this magazine in the new direction.  More flashes were seen, as several more silhouettes spread and took up positions.  Clay came over the top of Caesare and fired everything he had.  He quickly pulled the end of the last desk down in front of them, but it was too late.  Even as several more bullets hit the other side of the desk, Caesare rolled onto his side grabbing his shoulder.

“How bad?” cried Clay over the gunfire and papers flying all around them.

Caesare gritted his teeth.  “I can make it.”

Suddenly, Palin spoke from behind them.  “John?”

Thunk thunk thunk. More bullets hit the front of the desk.  Clay looked at Palin to find him staring back with a calm expression.  Clay waited for him to say something else, but then lowered his gaze to see the bright red circle spreading across Palin’s chest.  It was a direct hit.

“John.” he said again, starting to fade off.  His eyes started to close as his head tilted back.

“Palin!” Clay grabbed Palin and tried to shake him awake.  “Palin!!  Stay with me!”

Suddenly, a brilliant blue flash of light filled the room from behind them, adding to the bright search light.  Clay looked up to see the air split in half and open into a large hole in the shape of an oval.  He looked at Palin, who was unconscious.  A glow was coming from his coat pocket.  It was the cube.

Clay looked back to Caesare, who was reloading his gun.  “Get him out of here, Clay!”

Caesare gave him his best smile.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”  Clay stared at him for a long moment.  They both knew it was a lie.  Caesare had limited use of his shooting arm, and more shadows could be seen entering from the main hallway.  The two friends stared at each other.  They knew this was it.

“Get him out of here!” Caesare yelled again.  So many bullets were hitting the other side of the desk that it was beginning to move, pushing in on Caesare.  “Give me your gun,” he said, “and go stop that nuke!”

Clay hesitated for only a second.  He then replaced the magazine, flipped his rifle around, and handed it over.  He then turned and kicked one of the desks to the side outwards, making a small path.  He grabbed Palin and laid him flat on his back, making it easier to pick him up.  He looked at Caesare and nodded.  Again, they moved together.  Caesare came up over the desk, shooting with both guns giving the cover needed for Clay to pick Palin and throw him over his shoulder.  With his dislocated shoulder screaming in pain, Clay got to his feet and ran.

Behind him, Caesare got hit twice in the chest and fell backward onto the floor.  Clay ran as hard as he could, with every step propelling him toward the glowing portal.  Palin was heavy but at just several feet away Clay pushed off with everything he had, throwing them both forward.  They flew through the air and into the center of the dark oval.  It was then that Clay and a large bullet entered the portal at the same instant.

37

Red lights replaced the interior ones on each of the twelve submarine bridges, and commands were called down for all levels to “man battle stations”.  The Tridents had received their orders and were preparing to fire.  They had strategically positioned themselves with six on one side of the giant ring and six coming around the far side, to reduce risk.  Each submarine also remained nearly five hundred yards apart from each other.  The commanders had no idea what kind of strike Palin’s people might retaliate with, so it was lunacy to have all of the ships together, providing a singular target.

At nearly the same time on each Trident, the torpedoes were armed and loaded into both forward tubes.  The communications officer onboard the lead sub, the Montana, sat glued to his instruments.  He waited for any word or change in orders that might signal aborting the attack.  The Montana’s commander, Captain Hallgren, waited patiently, knowing the other subs were also loading and arming.  With no radio communication, they had to do this the old-fashioned way.  He kept checking the red LED clock on the wall.

After another minute, he looked at his communications officer, who looked back at him and shook his head.  Hallgren turned to his Operational Commander.  “All hands…stand by.”

His Operational Commander repeated the message into the microphone.  Hallgren took a deep breath and watched the digital clock hit its mark.  “Fire!”

The Operational Commander immediately passed the order.  “Shoot two one!  Shoot two one!”

Less than a second later, two torpedoes burst from their tubes on either side of the Trident’s bow, as they did on the other subs simultaneously.  The torpedoes raced forward, their target less than two thousand yards away.  The men on board waited, listening for the sound of a direct hit.  Their hearts began to beat faster.

“One thousand yards…” called the Helmsman.

“Eight hundred yards…”

“Six hundred yards…”

“Four hund-”  The Helmsman stopped.  He pressed his headset harder against his ears.  “Sir!  I’ve lost them.”

“What?!” said Hallgren.  “What do you mean lost them?”

“I don’t know, sir.  I just…wait!”  Suddenly, a piercing alarm sounded behind them.  His eyes opened wide.  “Sir!  Torpedoes are CLOSING!”

“Closing?!”  Hallgren yelled.  “Closing on who?”

“Closing on US, sir!” replied the Helmsman.  “Ten…NO, twelve torpedoes in the water at eight hundred yards bearing 192, bearing 183, bearing 166…”

“Evasive maneuvers!  Get us turned around!”  He looked at his helmsman.  “Are they ours?!”

“No, sir!” he said, shaking his head.  He turned to Hallgren.  “I think they’re from the other subs.”

“That’s impossible!  They’re over fifteen miles away!”  Hallgren shouted.

With full power, the Montana began to turn.  At that moment, the other eleven subs were all doing the same thing.

“Five hundred yards and closing!”

“Blow the tanks,” growled Hallgren.

Still turning, the Montana opened its tanks and forced a hundred thousand gallons of water out as an emergency measure.  The exiting water was replaced with air quickly, increasing its buoyancy.  The Montana slowly started to rise.  Beneath the water, the sounds of all the subs pressurizing their tanks could be heard for miles.

“Three hundred yards!”

The Montana’s crew held tight and, like the others, desperately willed the monstrous ship up through the dark waters.  Their ascent was agonizingly slow.

“A hundred and fifty yards!” called the Helmsman.

“Launch the decoys!” yelled Hallgren.

Several large canisters shot from the rear tubes and began to descend.  They instantly began releasing bubbles and noise to confuse the detection systems of the torpedoes.  Several torpedoes suddenly changed course and smashed into the decoys exploding prematurely, but the others did not.  One by one, the rest found their mark, slamming into the submarines with powerful blasts.  Their hulls were instantly destroyed, causing them to implode under water.  The Montana, still clawing for the surface, was the last to be hit.  Like the others, its hull shuddered under the impact and collapsed in on itself.  Slowly, the shock waves subsided.  What was left of the twelve nuclear submarines stopped their ascent and slowly began the lifeless slide into the dark waters below.

38

The small metal door opened slowly with a creaking sound.   Alison tilted her head out just far enough to get a look around.  Beyond the grass that surrounded the back of the building was the secondary parking lot, and it appeared empty.  She looked slowly to the right, the direction back to the main entrance, and saw nothing but the familiar dark trees and shrubs.  She leaned just a little outside, looking around the door’s edge to the left.  The large grassy area, littered with picnic tables, sat silently.  Further and around the left side of the building was the exterior of the giant tank.  It had no entrance into the aquarium except from the large deck which was high above and inaccessible from the ground.

“What do you see?” Chris stood nervously behind her.

“Nothing.  Shhh!” she snapped.  She tried to concentrate over the sound of gunfire inside the building.  She could not hear anything outside.  Alison looked at the waist high hedge that bordered the far end of the parking lot.  Beyond that, were trees, and further still was a faint outline of a sloped roof.  She turned around.  “It looks clear.  I think if we can make it to the hedge, we can stay out of sight until we get to the larger trees.  From there, we should be able to get to the maintenance shed.

They both pushed their heads through for a look.

“That looks awfully far,” said Chris.

“Not if we’re fast.” Alison looked at Chris who was wearing a white t-shirt.  She quickly pulled her green sweatshirt over her head.  “Take off your shirt and wear this.”  She straightened the dark shirt she was wearing underneath.

With shaking hands, Chris pulled off his shirt and put the tiny sweatshirt on.  It was at least two sizes too small and barely covered his skin, but was better than wearing a white shirt, acting as a beacon.  They both looked at Kenwood’s red shirt.

“Hey, at least it’s not white.”

“Okay.” Alison looked at them.  “Ready?”

The other two nodded.  Suddenly, back down the hall they heard the gunfire stop.  That was all the incentive they needed.  “Stay low!” Alison whispered over her shoulder and ran toward the hedge.  All three stayed close, and reaching the hedge, they dropped to the ground behind it.  They slowly peered up over it, seeing more of the parking lot and the road to the main lot.  Still no sign of movement.

“C’mon!” Alison ran, bending down as far as she could to stay below the top of the hedge.  Chris and Lee followed behind.

Less than ten seconds later, they were ducking behind one of the larger trees in the aquarium’s outdoor area.  Still seeing no one behind them, they ran for the dark structure near the edge of the property.  The large shed, hidden behind the trees, was used by the gardeners and various grounds people who maintained the exterior of the property.  They quickly tried the main door, which was locked.  They spread out and circled it.  Both windows on each side were also locked.  Alison looked around for another place to run, when she suddenly heard the smashing of one of the windows.  She turned around to see Lee holding a large rock.  He held a finger over his lips and proceeded to clear the rest of the glass by running the rock around the inside edge of the frame.  Alison looked around and ran a few feet to a small banana tree.  She pulled off two of its thick leaves and draped them over the window edge.  Using them for protection, Chris and Lee lifted her up and in through the window.  Moments later, Lee followed her in and Chris tumbled in last.  As an afterthought, Alison kicked the broken glass out of view and leaned a few long handled tools up against the open window.

A few minutes later, two of the soldiers burst out through the maintenance corridor looking for them.  They slowly scanned the grounds, spreading out with their guns up, pressed into their shoulders.  One headed past the outside tank and toward the other end of the building.  The other silently trotted across the small parking lot to a long hedge.  He jumped over and panned his rifle across the picnic area.  He followed the hedge, looking left and right, until he came to the end.  To his right, a small road led back to the main entrance and split in two after passing a small walkway.  It ran up to the same double doors and hallway that his other team members had charged through earlier.  He turned back and looked at a group of large trees.  Behind it, he could see the edge of a low hanging roof.

He moved quietly through the trees and found the large shed which the roof was attached to.  He very carefully stepped around each corner, ready to fire at any moment.  When he found no one hiding around the outside, he tried the door.  He then peered back around the left corner, noticing a broken window on the west side.  Unable to see anything inside, he flipped on the LED light at the end of his barrel, bathing the entire inside of the shed with the bright beam.

He scanned back and forth, seeing a wall of tools, along with dozens of sacks of fertilizers and compost on the back wall.  A giant lawnmower sat on the opposite side.  Behind the lawnmower were a couple small rusted gasoline tanks, and in the middle countless buckets and hoses, all stacked neatly in place. Suddenly, a voice sounded over the headset wrapped tightly around his ear.  “No, no sign of them yet,” he said, stepping back from the window to listen.  “I think they made a run for it.  They can’t be more than a half mile away.  We can still get ‘em.”  He listened again and nodded.  “Okay, heading back.”  The soldier took one last look at the window and, not seeing any glass on the floor and the tools leaning against it, decided it had been broken for a while.  He turned and quickly ran back toward the building.  When he got close, the rest of the team emerged and all ran smoothly toward the beach.  After two trips to retrieve the bodies of their team members, they pulled three black zodiac boats out of the bushes and dragged them back down the sand, and into the water.  Within seconds, they had the engines started, their gear aboard, and had disappeared into the darkness.

***

It was over thirty minutes before Alison peeked out from under one of the heavy compost sacks.  Her face smeared with dirt, she looked slowly out and toward the window.  A small amount of light shone through from the tiny gibbous moon overhead, creating a silhouette around the trees and bushes rustling outside in the wind. She half slid, half pulled herself out from the small gap left between the bags and the wall, and looked around quietly.  They had not heard anything since what sounded like boats speeding off in the ocean, but they were afraid that one or two might have stayed back, in hopes of flushing them out.

Alison peered out of the window and then walked to the other side, looking through the dirty glass.  “I think they’re gone,” she whispered to Chris and Lee.  A few seconds later, they both wiggled out, covered in dirt themselves.

They looked through the windows to double check.  Alison was shaking.  “Oh my god!  They killed them!  They killed them all!”

Lee tried to calm her.  “We don’t know that for sure, Alison.”

“No?”  She yelled under her breath.  “What the hell do you call it when everyone goes in, but only one side comes back out?!  My god, they killed them - Clay, Caesare, and their friend.”  She suddenly gasped.  “They killed Frank!”

Chris was looking out the window and then ran back to the other side.  “We’ve got to do something!”

Alison grew quiet.  Her eyes welled up as she absorbed the full weight of what had happened.  “They died for us,” she said, looking at Chris, then Lee.  Her voice began to tremble.  “Clay and the others died, so we could get out.”

All three of them sat in the shed, thinking about what she had just said.

Chris sighed and slumped back into the seat of the lawnmower.  “I think we’d better call the police.”

“I don’t know,” Alison said, suddenly shaking her head.  “Is it just me or did those guys look like government?”

Lee nodded.  “Looked like it to me.”

“Then can the police even protect us?” Alison asked them.  “What if we call the police and they’ve been told ‘shoot to kill’, or something?  I mean, we saw the whole thing in there!”

“Are you kidding?” Chris exclaimed.  “The cops are the only chance we have.”

Alison and Lee looked at each other but remained silent.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?  Everyone in there is dead, including Frank!  We could be in there lying right next to him!”

Alison raised her voice slowly.  “Well, that doesn’t mean we want to give them a reason to come back either.”

“Oh, okay, great,” whined Chris, “let’s just hide out here then!  You know, put in a change of address-”

“Knock it off!” Alison snapped, cutting him off.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us live,” said Lee, quietly.  He looked at both of them.  “Alison’s right.  We did see everything.  We also know why they took Dirk and Sally.  We know about the city, or ring, or whatever it is.  And now we’re witnesses.  We know too much and they have to cover it up.  That’s how they do it.”

Alison nodded.  “And for whatever reason, they had to leave quickly, but it doesn’t mean they won’t be back.  Maybe they let things die down and wait for us to come home.”  She sat quietly.  “Unless,” she said, suddenly looking up.

“Unless what?”

“Unless we stop Dirk and Sally,” she said.

“Stop them?” Chris asked.

“Stop them from delivering the bomb,” Alison said, standing up.  “That’s why John said they had come here.  They were trying to stop it.”

“Yeah,” Lee agreed.  “I say we stop it and then call the press and tell them everything.”

Chris folded his arms.  “And how do you propose we stop them?  In case you’ve forgotten, there’s nothing left.  They took everything, the equipment, our notes, everything.”

Alison had stood up but now slumped back down thinking.

“Uh,” Lee raised his hand. “I have backups.”

“What?”

Lee grinned.  “I have backups.”

Chris looked confused.  “What do you mean?  The backup tapes were in the servers, and they took them all.”

“I back up the servers every night,” Lee said.  “And I replace those tapes every week.  Most of the tapes are shipped to a storage facility, but the last two weeks have not been sent yet.”

“So…where exactly are those tapes?” Alison asked.

“Downstairs in the storage closet.”

Alison and Chris looked at each other, but he shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  The tapes don’t help without the servers.”

Alison saw that Lee was grinning again.  “What?” she asked again, with a cautious look.

“We have a server.  We have two.  The small servers we took on board the Pathfinder.  Captain Emerson had them shipped back to me about a week ago.”

“Any chance those servers are in the storage closet downstairs too?”

“Yes, they are.”

Alison smiled broadly with excitement.  “Lee Kenwood, I could just-”  She suddenly changed her mind and just lunged at him, giving him a giant kiss.  “You are amazing!”

“I know,” he joked.

“Could we install it on the boat?”

“What?!”  Chris said, jumping to his feet.  “We’re taking the boat?”

The boat was a thirty-year old, forty foot Bayliner diesel powerboat.  It was donated to the aquarium years ago, and primarily used for small trips out on the ocean for local research groups, or students on a field trip.

“We’re not taking the boat, Chris.  I’m taking the boat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m doing this…alone,” she said, calmly.  “It’s dangerous.  I’m not going to risk two more lives over this.  There’s something big going on here, and I’m not going to let us all die over it.”

Chris just stared at her, silently constructing his argument.  Finally he said “Alison, don’t you think we should leave this to the pros?  My mom has a friend who’s a cop.  I’m sure we can trust him.”

Alison frowned at Chris.  “We may not have time.  And I really don’t know who we can trust, Chris.  To tell you the truth, I can’t let anything happen to Dirk and Sally, or anybody else out there.  I love those dolphins.  You know that.”

“I know,” Chris said, with a sigh.  “But they mean a lot to us too.  You know that!”

She put her hand on his arm.  “Then help me.”

He sighed again, defeated.  “Fine.”  Chris looked over at Lee.  “What do we have to do, Lee?”

Lee ran through the list of things they would need.  They slowly climbed back out of the window, and made sure there was no movement other than the trees.  Cautiously, they made their way back toward the building.  When they reached the edge, they pulled open the double doors.  Quietly, the three snuck down the main hallway, back toward the lab.  It was completely black, for which Alison was glad.  It meant they could walk around the edge of the wall to the stairs without having to see any of the bodies.  She felt sick thinking that Clay, Dubois, Caesare, and their friend Palin, were lying lifeless somewhere in the darkness.  As they made their way through the lab, their shoes crunched on broken glass and pieces of plaster from the walls.  When they reached the stairs, Lee led the way down with his left hand on the railing.  They reached the storage room and found the electricity to the building was still on.  Inside the closet, Lee grabbed one of the servers.  Chris carried a monitor, while Alison followed them out with the backup tapes, a keyboard, and a number of other items that she did not recognize.

They made their way back outside, out to the water where a small dock led to the boat, sitting and bobbing contently in the gentle swells.  They quietly climbed aboard, putting their equipment down inside the cabin.  Alison quickly closed all the curtains and turned on one small light so Lee could see.

“Chris,” he said, “I need you to find some straps or rope to hold this stuff down.  If you can, grab a toolbox too.”

Chris nodded and disappeared outside.

“What should I do? asked Alison.

“Where’s your phone?”

She gave a puzzled look and patted down her clothes.  “I don’t know.”  She thought for a minute.  “I think I left it in Chris’ car.”

“Go get it.  And grab the charger too.”

While the other two were gone, Lee pieced together the server components.  He fired up the engine and kept it idling as quietly as possible, while he powered up the server and began restoring the data from the tapes.  He let the data restore run, and proceeded to rewire the boat’s existing speakers and microphone into the server.

Alison arrived with her phone and handed it to Lee.  He duct-taped it to the dashboard, above the boat’s steering wheel, and plugged the charger in.  A few moments later, Chris returned with the straps and toolbox.  Together, they wrapped the straps around the server and monitor, then tugged on them to be sure the systems would stay upright against the back and forth motion of the boat.  It took another thirty minutes to restore the data onto the server and a few more still to test it.  All in all, it took them less than an hour and a half.

Lee finally finished typing.  “I think we’re about ready.”  He looked at Alison.  “Okay, let me walk you through this.  I was able to restore IMIS’ information all the way up to last week.  However, you are limited only to the vocabulary up to that point.  This does not include the bulk of the raw data, which means you cannot learn new words.  But you should have more than enough translation capability to find Dirk and Sally, and warn them.  Now,” he said, pointing to the server on the floor, “the server uses a lot of power, which means you must be running the engine for it to operate.  I attached a small battery backup though.  If the engine is turned off, you can probably still use it for ten minutes, but that’s it.  Oh, and the server is sensitive to any significant motion, so do your best to keep the boat steady.”

Next, he pointed to her cell phone.  “I’ve turned on the GPS navigation on your cell phone and plugged in the coordinates for Bimini.  You shouldn’t have any problem finding it.  Basically, it’s about seventy miles, due east.  I also disabled your cellular signal so they can’t track you.  You also have,” he looked at the gauge, “about half of tank of fuel, which should be more than enough to get you there and back.  Any questions?”

She shook her head.  “I don’t think so.”

“Okay-” Lee suddenly stopped and looked around.  Where’s Chris?”

“I don’t know.”

Outside, they heard someone hop onboard.  A few seconds later, the door opened with Chris panting.  His arms were filled with junk food from the vending machine inside.  “Here, take this,” he said, dropping everything into a seat next to them.  “Wait!” Chris shouted, quickly pulling an orange life vest from under the same seat.  He wrapped it around Alison and clipped it in front.

She smiled at him reassuringly and gave him a tight hug.  She then turned and hugged Lee.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, wondering if that sounded more like a question than a statement.  She looked at Chris.  “Chris, take Lee and find your mom’s police friend.  It won’t be long before the cleaning crew comes in, and then all hell is going to break loose.  We need to make sure we’re in front of this and already explaining things to somebody.”

“And what if they ask where you are?”

She shrugged.  “Tell them you don’t know.  Tell them we got separated after the shooting.  By the time they start to suspect anything, I should already be back with Dirk and Sally.”

They both nodded sullenly.  They opened the door and backed out.

“Find them, Alison,” were Lee’s last words before they shut the door and stepped off, back onto the dock.  Together, they untied the dock lines and threw them aboard, waiting for her to pull away.  She peered through the side window and waved.  She then pushed forward on the throttle and the engines revved louder, pushing the boat forward through the small waves.

When Alison was close to a mile out, she opened the engine up and sped forward.  The sea was relatively calm as the boat’s bow cut smoothly through the waves.  She reached down and typed a simple message as a test; Sally Dirk Stop Danger.  She hit the return key and the screen read, “Translating…”

Satisfied, she looked back up and gripped the wheel with both hands.  She stared intently through the glass, as she could see very little in the dark ocean in front of her.

Alison thought about the one potential problem with her plan, something she was hoping neither Chris nor Lee would bring up.  If by some miracle she did find and stop them, what on earth was she going to do with a nuclear bomb?

39

“What?!” Stevas screamed into his phone.  He was in disbelief.  “All of them?!  Every single one?”  He listened in anger and his face turned dark red.

“God dammit!”  He turned and looked across the table to Mason, who was watching apprehensively.  Stevas closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair in frustration.  “They did it!’ he said. “By god they did it!  They hit us first!  I knew we should have moved faster.”

He ended the call and looked at Mason.  “The bastards destroyed every one of our subs.  Every one.”  He looked at the wall still shaking his head.  “This is Miller’s fault.  He kept dragging his damn feet.”

Mason sighed from across the table.  “It didn’t help having to bring the Tridents in slowly.  They could see that coming from a mile away.”

Stevas turned and pointed at him.  “That’s right!”  He started pacing.  “If they had done things like I wanted to do, like we wanted to do, that ring would be a giant pile of junk right now.  Goddamn bureaucracy!  And those damn panty waists, Miller and Langford.  We had the President thinking straight before they turned everything around.”  He put his hands on his hips.  “Dammit!”

“They’re not going to listen, you know.” Mason said.  “Miller and Langford are just going to see this attack as them being provoked.”

“I know.” Stevas said, continuing to pace.  “And if we think this is bad, just wait until all of these U.N. idiots get involved.”

“Game over.”

“Not if I can help it.”  Stevas held up his phone and began dialing.

***

The tank was smaller than their old tank and the building was dark, making it hard to see.  Dirk and Sally hovered near the glass wall watching all the men walk back and forth, quickly piecing the last of the many servers together.  One man, tall and lanky with dark hair, was sitting in front of the tank typing on a computer.  His face reflected an eerie glow from the monitor in front of him.  They both wondered where Alison and the others were.

After what seemed like a long time, the man finished typing and looked up at them.  A short pause later, the words Hello Dirk and Sally came through the underwater speakers.

Dirk swam past the speaker, excited.  Hello, he answered.

Sally swam close to the microphone.  Where Alison?  Where Chris?  Where Lee?

The man forced a smile and typed back.  They will come soon.  We are friends.  IMIS translated, and Dirk swam excitedly again.  The man noticed that Sally continued to watch him very carefully.  We need help.  He typed.

Dirk answered quickly.  Yes help.  Dirk like help.

We want to give gift to people.  He said.  People in the city.

Dirk rolled to the top of the tank and came back down.  Dirk take gift.  People nice.

Thank you Dirk.  The man at the computer replied.  Must go fast.

Two scuba divers descended from the top of the tank holding a thick harness.  In the middle of the harness was a large lump, hiding a compact nuclear warhead.  It was preprogrammed for the ring’s depth and location.  As soon as it got within a quarter mile of any part of the ring, it would instantly detonate.

The harness was gently fitted onto Dirk’s back and fastened underneath.  When they were done, he wagged his tail eagerly and swam around the small tank.  Sally stayed close, swimming next to him.

The man behind the computer was now standing at the end of the tank watching, when someone walked up behind him.  “We ready, Jared?”  The young man turned to see Naval Chief Bruce Bishop.

“Yes, sir.”

“Any problems?” Bishop asked.

“None at all sir.  They seem to be adjusting quickly.”

Bishop shrugged.  “Good, though it’s not going to matter much longer.”  He peered at Dirk and Sally through the glass alongside Jared.  “If they’re ready, let’s send them out.”

Jared nodded and picked up a phone on his desk.  “Open the doors.”  He put the phone down and typed a message out.  Please take gift fast Dirk.  Hurry.

Dirk swim fast, Dirk replied.  A few minutes later, behind the dolphins, two large doors began to open slowly.  The ocean water on the other side rushed through and mixed with the tank water, creating a tiny vortex.  Using their powerful tails, both dolphins waited for the surge to subside, then quickly darted into the open ocean and were gone.

40

For the second time in less than two weeks, an exhausted Kathryn Lokke saw the McMurdo base station in Antarctica appear on the horizon.  Her plane was much larger this time but only slightly more comfortable.  Even so, she was really going to miss it when they had to transfer to the smaller and much colder C130s.

She turned and looked at the rows of people behind her.  The effort had come together faster than she could have hoped.  True to his word, President Carr delivered everyone and everything she needed.  International experts were brought in almost overnight, and when she explained to her own team what they were up against, almost all of them volunteered to go back.  She had never felt so proud and humbled at the same time.

There was also no question in her mind, telling them the whole truth was the right thing to do.  When they learned how grave the situation was, partly after compiling their own results, they were ready to get to work immediately.  Nearly all of the remaining members became part of the project planning effort to ‘blow up’ the Ronne Ice Shelf and prevent a modern catastrophe.  Her team worked relentlessly.  By the time the demolition teams had landed, many of the largest logistical problems and details had been worked out.  Now the entire group, along with their equipment, was back.

At over 500 feet thick, the Ronne Ice Shelf presented a number of challenges.  First and foremost was the depth of the wells required to ensure the greatest level of explosive effect.  And the required mobile drill rigs were huge.  They were also slow.  In fact, as she found out, it was not the size of the drilling vehicle that was the challenge, but the amount of the drill string piping needed for each vehicle.  With at least three hundred feet of piping per drill, they took up most of the storage capacity on the plane.

Next was the food and supplies.  Anderson’s New Zealand team would again serve as guides, but the project was expected to last for months, which meant the food and supplies were substantial.  The compact snowplow would be essential in creating airstrips smooth enough to land on, in order for the planes to safely drop off more supplies.  Satellite pictures and deep level scans would help identify the best areas.  Although in the end, it would be up to those on the ground to decide where to plow.

Due to the urgency involved in getting the project underway, it was decided that it would be carried out in a staggered approach.  This meant that with the essentials addressed, Kathryn would then be onsite to continue the planning from their base on the ice.  Thanks to some innovative inflatable building structures from Norway, they were able to bring a relatively permanent form of shelter with them.  Made out of an expandable material that strengthened as it was exposed to oxygen, the small outbuildings would be fully insulated and capable of housing up to five people each.  Best of all, they were heavy but still mobile.  As the drills moved, so could the camp.

The explosives were expected to be approximately a mile apart.  It was just enough, according to their computer simulations, to create the vibration and stress needed on the inner shelf to effectively allow it to break itself off, and relieve stress at the core.  Finally, due to the energy required for the mobile drills, explosives and fuel would be delivered on an almost constant basis.  And while her team would be measuring and assessing the surface for the drills, the best news Kathryn could give her team would be that they would sleep warmly at night.  That fact alone made them smile.

It only took four hours to land and transfer their equipment to the waiting C130 planes.  They were the best aircraft for transport to the ice shelf.  They were more durable and had a much better strength and carrying capacity, when factoring in the length required for a landing field.  Kathryn had hoped her body had adjusted, at least a little, to the extreme cold, but the deep chill on board her C130 told her otherwise.

The planes finally landed and began unloading.  The long sunlit nights allowed them to begin setting up immediately, and within just a few hours, they had most of the inflatable houses up and operational.  The inside temperatures were increasing and expected to reach a balmy sixty degrees Fahrenheit.  The drill teams prepped their three mobile drillers and readied them for the next morning.  They estimated that each mobile drill could create one two-hundred foot hole per day, which meant that they were expecting a rate of progress of two or three miles a day, for a total of sixty to seventy miles per month.  Therefore, their best case scenario would allow them to detonate in six to eight weeks.

Kathryn hoped they had enough time.

41

The swells were getting taller the further Alison got from land, and the morning sun was finally beginning to crest over the horizon.  The straps that the guys installed were keeping the server relatively stable.  She kept her hand on the equipment when she could, to help counter the rocking motion of the boat.  The increasing swells and the sensitivity of the server kept her limited to a relatively slow speed.  After more than two hours, she was not even half the distance to Bimini.  Alison also realized that to transmit a clear signal, she had to stop and turn off the engine.  This kept the engine noise from impairing the broadcast from the speakers, something she remembered from their trip on the Pathfinder.  Unfortunately, every time she turned off the engine, the battery backup device would sound an audible alarm indicating that it had lost power from its source.  She wished Lee had remembered to disable that.  The benefit, though, was that she had a digital display of exactly how much more time she had left before the battery went dead.

Alison throttled down again and let the boat coast to a stop.  Most of the boat’s rolling motion disappeared, and she let go of the server to reach over and turn off the ignition.  She turned on the monitor and typed the command again. Dirk Sally Stop Danger.  A moment later, she heard the sound come out from the speakers under the boat.  She waited patiently for a couple minutes and tried again.  While she waited, she wondered how far the sound from those speakers could travel in the open ocean.  She knew that sound traveled better underwater, but she had not thought to ask Lee what the distance was.  It also occurred to her that she didn’t know exactly which direction Dirk and Sally might be coming from.  They assumed it would be a similarly straight line from Miami, but if not, then the range of the speakers was even more critical.  The other unknown was when Dirk and Sally would be coming.  John Clay indicated it was going to happen soon, but the more she thought about the statement, the less sure she was.  Did he mean ‘soon’ as in now, or ‘soon’ as in a couple of weeks?  In the end, she didn’t know.  She just had to go with her gut.

Alison was beginning to feel the exhaustion setting in.  She sat down and reached for a couple more packs of Oreo cookies.  The previous dose had perked her up, and she was hoping they would again as she tore the wrapper open.  She slowly chewed the cookies, thinking how much less enjoyable junk food was when it was your only option.

Alison sent one last message before starting up the engine again.  When the engine rumbled to life, the alert on the battery shut off and the system went back to charging.  She eased the throttle forward again, verifying her location on the GPS, as the boat resumed her drive forward through the small waves.

After the third hour, she began stopping the boat more frequently and sending more broadcasts.  Sitting on the seat waiting, she watched the server nervously as it rocked more from side to side under the influence of the swells rolling under the boat.  She looked at the digital screen on the backup battery.  She had three minutes of power left.  At two minutes, she turned the engine back on and continued forward.  Alison was getting increasingly nervous.

After each stop, Alison’s anxiety grew until she was well within sight of Bimini Island’s south cay.  She did not know where this underwater city was, but she couldn’t be very far from it.  It probably would not be long until she was right on top of it which meant she might not be able to reach Dirk and Sally until it was too late.  Her heart began beating faster at the sudden prospect of now being too close to what was about to happen.

Alison quickly stood up and decided to head back away from the island.  She turned the key to start the engine and listened to the battery alert, waiting to hear it go off.  In a moment of confusion, she looked down at her hand thinking something did not seem right.  The battery alert was still sounding, but she realized the key had already been turned.  She was not sure what she did wrong, but she tried it again, twisting it back to its original position and turning the key again.  Again, nothing happened.  She looked at the battery and the alarm was still ringing.  The display on the battery read five minutes and forty-eight seconds, but what caused Alison to panic was that the display did not indicate that it was charging again.

She quickly examined the ignition area, thinking she hit something or flipped a switch, accidentally turning something off.  She could not find anything.  Every piece seemed firmly in place or downright immovable.  She tried to start the engine again, this time a little more forcibly.  All she heard was a mechanical “click” somewhere inside.  She instantly felt a feeling of dread come over her and stop right in the middle of her stomach, as though she was going to be sick.  “Oh god,” she said, trying the key one more time.  Still nothing.

“Oh god!  Please, please start!” she moaned.  She kicked the area beneath the steering wheel, very nearly breaking her foot.  She was now in a full panic.  She looked at the battery display which read five minutes and twenty-one seconds left.  Alison suddenly realized that if she could not start the engine, this was all she had left on the server.  She desperately hit the return key sending out another broadcast.  The battery continued to count down.  “No! No! NO!!” She checked the gas gauge and found the tank still a quarter full.  She tried an interior light, which showed the electrical was working.

As the battery kept counting down, a dark realization swept over her like a terrible nightmare.  Not only was she about to lose power and the ability to call out to Dirk and Sally…but without the ability to start the engine, she couldn’t leave.  She was stuck and probably well within range of being killed instantly when the bomb went off.  She was trapped.

“God, please no!’ Screaming, she hit the keyboard over and over in desperation.  Below her, the sound from the speakers could be heard broadcasting the same familiar clicks in rapid succession.  She stood watching helplessly as the battery display counted down past the five-minute mark.

***

Sally followed close behind an excited Dirk, who swam quickly through the emerald blue waters.  Both were happy to be in the open ocean again.  She stayed close to Dirk easily as the large gift on his back slowed him down.  She could now detect the distant hum of the giant ring almost twenty miles away.  It was then that she heard something else, a faint sound coming from another direction.  Sally slowed, listening, as Dirk began to pull away.  The sound was familiar.  She watched Dirk, intent on helping his friends, slowly fade ahead into the glimmering blue veil of the underwater sunlight.

***

Alison kept hitting the keyboard, sending out the message again and again.  The display was down to two minutes and thirty-two seconds.  She was desperately digging through the storage compartments, looking for a manual to the boat.  Of course, it was pointless.  She did not know the first thing about boats or mechanics, but she looked anyway.  She simply could not think of anything else to do.  She had every cushion seat turned over and finally pulled up the last storage compartment lid.  She felt a glimmer of hope, spotting a large toolbox and pulling it out.  Alison flipped the cover over and dug through the tools as quickly as she could.  No manual.  Her heart sank.

She looked at the battery.  It read one minute and forty-five seconds.  She hit the keyboard again and collapsed down onto the floor crying.  She felt so utterly stupid.  She hardly knew anything about what was happening, and here she was running to the rescue.  Except there was no rescue.  Instead, she had condemned herself to die as she sat helplessly in the middle of the ocean.  She even tried turning her phone’s cellular back on but there was no signal.  It was hopeless.

She was crying so hard now that she did not hear IMIS relay a message.  Alison.  She tried to catch her breath, and looked at the battery display which was now nothing more than torture.  It was almost down to one minute.  IMIS broadcasted again and Alison’s heart stopped.  Alison.

Alison almost couldn’t move.  Half frozen, she forced herself to the side of the cabin and looked outside.  Sally was next to her, with her head sticking out of the water.  “Oh my god!” she ran for the door.  “Wait!”  She suddenly stopped when her hand grabbed the handle and turned around.  The display said forty-seven seconds.  In a flash, she rushed back to the keyboard and typed as fast as she could.  Sally danger.  Must leave fast.  Get Dirk.  She hit the enter key and waited what felt like an eternity for Sally’s reply.

Dirk far now.  Has gift.

“No! No!!” Alison moaned.  She quickly typed again.  Must leave. Gift much much danger.

She hit the enter key and looked at the display.  It passed ten seconds.  She could hear the server making noise, preparing to shut down.  “Nooooo!” Alison yelled.

And then it was off.  The screen went blank.  All of the lights on the server disappeared.

“Dammit!” she shouted.  She turned and burst through the door into the open air.  Sally was watching her, making a series of clicks and whistles, but Alison no longer had any idea what she was saying.  She looked out over the water, then to the dark flat line on the horizon which was Bimini.  How far ahead was Dirk?  How close was the ring?  Her hands were shaking.  The explosion could come any second.

Alison looked off to the south and could see the tiny island of North Cat Cay, a few miles away.  She then looked down at Sally.  In desperation, she jumped from the side of the boat and into the water.  She passed Sally and began swimming in the direction of North Cat, but she did not get more than ten feet before Sally bumped her from behind.

Alison shook her head.  “We have to leave, Sally!”  Sally remained quiet, watching her.  Alison gave her an exasperated look.  Frustrated at her inability to communicate, she started swimming again.  But she knew it was futile.  Even an Olympic athlete could not swim that far in time.  It was all she could think of.

Sally bumped her again from the back, momentarily pushing her underwater.  Alison sputtered, coughing water out of her mouth, and then continued swimming.  Again, Sally bumped her.  “We have to GO!”  She spit more water out.

She turned away again and felt another bump, this time harder.  Alison realized she was not moving.  Instead she felt Sally’s nose and mouth dig into her back, grab the life jacket strap, and rip it free.  The life jacket suddenly came loose around her neck and she scrambled to keep it on.  Sally then bit the jacket around Alison’s neck and pulled it off.

“What are you doing?!” Alison screamed, trying to tread water.

Sally gave another series of clicks and whistles.  She then flipped the jacket around, keeping the neck area in her teeth.  Alison stared at her, trying to understand.  She looked at the white nylon straps hanging on either side of Sally.

Suddenly Alison’s eyes opened wide.  She quickly swam up behind Sally and wrapped her arms around Sally’s thick neck.  She gave her a kiss on the back of the head and then reached for the straps, wrapping them around her wrists.  “Go Sally!” she yelled.

At once, Sally bolted forward with Alison hanging on behind her.  Her powerful tail pumped hard behind them and the water surged past.  Alison laid her head against Sally’s neck and closed her eyes, trying to keep as much water out of her face as possible.  She felt Sally’s whole body move back and forth, soon reaching a smooth rhythm powering through the water.

***

Dirk did not know where Sally went, but he could now see the distant bright blue glow from the ring.  He pushed forward excitedly and descended deeper and deeper toward the bottom.

***

Alison was struggling to keep from choking on all the water.  She tried to lift her head for air.  They were getting closer to North Cat.  Suddenly, Sally accelerated.  Alison began to slide side to side from the motion and fought to stay on.  The pressure on her wrists was cutting off her circulation.  She could barely feel her hands, now white and losing blood.  Alison lifted her head and could see something ahead.  It looked like… rocks.  Did Sally see them?  Were they going to come all this way just to smash themselves onto the rocks by accident?  Sally’s pace suddenly quickened even more.

Alison looked up again.  It was a breakwater!  And it was made up of thousands of giant boulders.

“Sally, stop!”  Alison yelled, but Sally seemed to move even faster.  “Sally, rocks!”

At that instant, behind them and deep underwater, the nuclear material inside the bomb fused and the atomic detonation was unleashed.  In a fraction of a second, billions of tons of water were instantly vaporized.  The explosion lifted a massive amount of water over twenty feet above sea level before falling back down again into the giant vacuum created in the center.  The shock wave was enormous and traveled out in every direction, hitting Bimini first.  Trees, cars, and buildings, were instantly flattened as Bimini’s two islands absorbed much of the impact headed westward.  The rest of the shock wave quickly rippled outward into the Atlantic, to the northeast and southeast.

After climbing over Bimini’s islands, the wall of energy approached North Cat Cay at over two hundred miles per hour.  Sally was now upon the breakwater and, with all of her might, she jumped as high into the air as she could, with Alison desperately holding on.  In what felt like slow motion, they traveled over the breakwater rocks and hit the water on the other side, just as the shock wave smashed into the north side of the island.

42

President Carr walked into his oval office and slammed the door behind him.  He turned to the men waiting for him, as angry as anyone had ever seen him.

“Who did it?!” he yelled.

Miller, Mason, Stevas, Langford, Bishop, and Bullman, all stood before him quietly.

“I said, who did it?!” Carr pointed at them angrily.  “We all know that I’m going to find out soon, and the longer I have to wait, the more I will want someone in jail!”

The men all looked at each other.  Clearly, some of them had no idea what he was talking about.  Some, however, did.  Stevas stepped forward and came out swinging.

“I did,” he said, in a low growl.  “I did what you wouldn’t do!  I did what you couldn’t do.”

Carr was not the least bit surprised.  “You set off a nuclear bomb less than a hundred miles outside of a major metropolitan city.  And you did it against my direct orders!”

“I did what had to be done.” Stevas spat back.  “Our country, our entire world, was on the brink of annihilation.  The U.N. was bringing in the mother of all bureaucracies, and our time to control the situation was almost up.  If we hadn’t done it then, we wouldn’t have been able to do it at all!”

“I gave you a direct order!” the President growled.

Stevas stepped towards him in defiance.  “And I did what had to be done!  I stopped it, and I stopped them!  If you want to arrest me for saving this planet, then go ahead.  I’ll gladly sit by while I type out the whole story, explaining that our President didn’t have the guts to act when it was clear that we were under attack!”

“Under attack?” The President looked at Stevas with disdain.

“That’s right!” Stevas sneered.  He looked at Miller.  “What’s wrong?  Didn’t your servant here tell you that those bastards destroyed all twelve of our subs?  Every single one!  And if you want to stand here and act like we still had time for some kind of diplomacy, then you go right ahead.  I know what happened, and in the end, I did what you should have done!”

The President remained still, glaring at the smaller Stevas with a look that said he was contemplating punching him out.  The room fell silent with both men staring at each other, chests heaving.

“And you didn’t care,” the President said, trying to control himself, “what the risk of blowing up that ring was to us or them.”

Stevas shook his head.  “Lawrence was confident there was no threat.”  He paused for effect.  “And guess what, we’re still here.”

***

Kathryn Lokke sat inside the small inflatable habitat, sitting at a small desk with her laptop computer.  She was surprised at how well it worked at retaining the heat and giving them all some semblance of normality, considering the accommodations during their last stay.  In one brisk movement, she closed her laptop, then stood up and put her parka and gloves back on.

The day was off to a good start, she thought, as she stepped outside.  Not far away, one of her teams was examining the ice, making deep holes and testing for density.  The area had to be strong enough to support the weight of the drilling machines, but not so hard that it would impede their drilling speed.  Her other two teams were one and then two miles ahead of them, also looking for ideal areas for those holes.

One of the big mobile drilling machines rolled past Kathryn on its way to meet up with one of the forward teams.  The tiny ice crystals kicking up behind the machine stung her face momentarily before she turned away.  After it passed, she walked behind it and crossed the small working area.  Steve Anderson, the head of the New Zealand team, was standing next to her old pal, Andrew, the guide who virtually saved her the last time here.  They both looked up when she approached.

“G’day, Ms. Lokke.”  They said, almost in unison.

“I told you, it’s Kathryn.”

“Roight.” they said, in their Kiwi accent.

“How are my charges coming?” she asked, referring to the explosives that would be placed at the bottom of the drilled lines.

“They should be here any minute,” Steve confirmed.  “Just spoke with the crew a couple minutes ago.”  He nodded past Kathryn’s shoulder and she turned around.  “The airstrip is ready.”

She could see Manly coming back toward them in his big red plow, bumping up and down inside his cab.  He had one of the toughest jobs.  After this job, he was headed forward to the end of the line, where he would have to plow yet another strip next to where they would camp for the night.  Between gas, food, the explosives, additional people, and equipment, they would be getting a drop off nearly every morning for the next two weeks.  Fortunately, next week would bring another plow and one of Manly’s partners, which would make it easier and provide some backup.

Kathryn looked back when she heard the sound of the plane.  It took her some time to find it in the bright sky, even though she had now seen more of these C130’s then she ever wanted to.  As the plane grew closer, lowering its landing gear, she and the two others began walking toward the strip.

The two men were talking about where they planned to put the supplies, when Kathryn stopped to tie her right boot which had come loose.  She bent down and pulled the lace taught again and began to tie the knot, but stopped when she saw something appear next to her boot.  It was a tiny crack.  She looked at it curiously, without moving.  A few seconds later, another crack appeared, this one slightly bigger.  Was she standing on a weak spot?

Kathryn slowly stood up and looked around.  Small cracks were appearing everywhere.  She turned back to Steve and Andrew, who were still walking toward the plane that was now less than fifty feet above the ground.

“Hey.” she said, but neither of the men heard her.  “HEY!” she called out, louder.

Steven and Andrew turned and looked back at Kathryn.  She was standing still, looking at the ground.  “Yeah?”

“Look!” she yelled.

“Look at what?” Steve answered.

“Look at the ICE!” Her voice was trembling.

Both men looked around them and saw the tiny cracks forming all around.  They looked back at Kathryn and their eyes opened wide when they saw what was behind her.  Kathryn turned to see a giant crack forming and pieces of ice shooting up from the ground.  Farther in, over the ice shelf, she could see many more pieces exploding into the air.

She looked at the two men in front of her.  “Run!” she shouted.  “RUN!”  The people working behind her, including Manly who was just getting out of the truck, turned and looked at her curiously.  “RUN!” Kathryn yelled again, waving them toward her.  She looked further on, to the group of inflated structures serving as sleeping quarters.  There were at least several more people inside.  She felt sick as she realized they were too far away to hear her over the noise.

She turned back and saw the large plane rolling past them a few hundred yards away.  She pointed to the aircraft and starting running.  Steve and Andrew were already ahead of her.  They were all running and yelling to anyone else they could see.  They all stopped and called to the others again.  “RUN!”

When she turned around, she saw her four-man team, who had just been measuring the ice, now running as fast as they could toward her.  Far off in the background, she could see the familiar white fog rising into the air, but this time it was much, much bigger.  In the far distance, she could see mud slides beginning against the base of the giant glacier.  It was happening!  The glacier was collapsing!

Now, Manly was running toward her with his arm behind one of the drillers.  Kathryn turned to Steve and Andrew and shouted, pointing at the plane.  “Don’t let the plane stop!”  They both nodded and ran after it.

The shaking began under her feet.  She kept waving the others towards her and looked for anyone else.  Tadri was one of the team members running to her.  She stopped to pick up someone who had fallen and helped her to her feet.  Kathryn kept looking at the living quarter huts, praying that they would come out.  She looked back at the plane, watching Steven and Andrew jump up through the rear door as it slowed to a stop.  A moment later, the engines, which were winding down, suddenly roared back to life.  The plane quickly began to turn around to face the other direction.

The others finally caught up to Kathryn, and they all ran for the plane together.  She looked over her shoulder and finally saw the others coming out of the living quarters.  They looked around, then saw Kathryn and the rest running toward the plane.  At that moment, a wide crack appeared, spreading in a long jagged line between Kathryn and the camp.  It was too late.

The shaking was growing stronger and everyone tried to keep from stumbling sideways.  They covered the distance to the strip, as the plane was slowly passing them.  Stumbling back and forth, they rounded the back of the plane and chased after the side door.  Both men were waiting, and holding onto each side of the door.  They grabbed Tadri’s hand, pulling her off her feet and inside.  They reached out for the driller, and then for Manly and the rest.  Finally, they grabbed Kathryn and hauled her in.

The engines roared again and the plane accelerated.  Everyone in the back looked out the side windows as the ice sped past.  They watched the cracks grow larger and larger.  The wheels of the plane hit a big crack and everyone flew up, hitting the metal ceiling then fell back down.  They all looked at one another rubbing their heads.

The plane was really moving.  Outside, most of the ice became a blur, but all of the supplies were still onboard and with the added weight of its new passengers, the plane was struggling to take off.  Boom.  They felt another impact against the wheels that sent everyone into the air, fumbling for a better hold after they crashed back to the floor again.

Kathryn looked out one of the side windows.  The glacier was barely visible and had turned dark brown from all the slides.  The plane suddenly became smooth as it lifted off the ice, just as she watched the glacier collapse in the distance under its own weight.

At that moment, several billion tons of rock and ice separated and slid beneath the shelf.  The collapse displaced an unimaginable amount of water, forcing it out and up into a massive tsunami.  As the tsunami rose, it forced the entire ice shelf up with it, rising hundreds of feet within seconds.

Kathryn’s team on the plane watched the ice shelf rise up, pushed skyward by the force of the tsunami.  Their eyes grew wide and their breathing increased with every foot the shelf rose under them.  As it climbed higher and higher, everyone instinctively tightened their grip, waiting for the land mass they had all just been standing on to smash into the bottom of the airplane.

The plane climbed as quickly as it could, but the speed of the rising shelf was much faster.  No one in the back heard the pilots shouting in the cockpit and giving the engines everything they could.  It was at that moment Kathryn remembered all of the drilling explosives that were still onboard.  The ice below looked like it was now just inches away.  Several of them closed their eyes and waited for the impact, but it never came.

***

President Carr was glaring at Stevas when the phone on his desk beeped three times.  He left the men standing in front of him and walked across the room and around his desk, pushing the speaker button on his handset.  The voice of one of Mason’s female assistants came on.  “Mr. President, I have an urgent message for you from a Ms. Lokke.”

Carr looked at the phone and squinted curiously.  He looked at the other men and replied.  “Put her through.”  There was a short click and the President spoke up loudly.  “Hello, Ms. Lokke, what do I-”

“It’s happening!” Kathryn screamed frantically through the phone.  “It’s collapsing right now!”

Panic filled the room as Carr looked at the others.  “The Shelf?”

“The glacier!  The glacier has collapsed and destroyed the shelf!”

“Oh, god.” the President tried to think as he lowered himself close to the phone.  “Is it as bad as you thought?”

“Yes!” Kathryn answered immediately.  The sound of the plane’s engines in the background drowned out her voice.  “The tsunami is enormous and it’s headed north!”

“How fast?” Carr asked, as the other men quickly crowded around his desk.  “How much time do we have?”

“I don’t know.” She yelled over the background noise.  “Probably three or four hundred miles an hour which means it would hit Florida in,” she paused, “something like twelve hours.  But it will hit South America long before that!”

Carr closed his eyes and hung his head.  “What are our options, Ms. Lokke?”

“I told you there were no options.  We can’t stop this.  The only thing we can do is evacuate!”

“Hold on.” The President muted the line.  He looked at the men around him.  “Jesus Christ.  Is that even possible?”

“Evacuate the entire Atlantic seaboard, in both North and South America?” Miller said, shaking his head.  “No, not in twelve hours.”

“But some would be able to get out right?” Carr said.

“Not necessarily,” replied Langford.  “We’d start a panic of biblical proportions.  It would likely be nothing but a mob scene until the tsunami arrived.”

“Mr. President?” asked Kathryn.

Carr quickly took her off mute.  “Yes, Ms. Lokke, we’re here.”

“You stopped the nuclear test right?!”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at the phone.  “Nuclear test?  What nuclear test?”

“The one that John Clay told me about.”

Carr looked up again at the group surrounding his desk.  “What exactly did John Clay tell you, Ms. Lokke?”

Kathryn was still yelling over the engines.  “He called and asked me whether the shock wave from a nuclear test you were planning could accidentally trigger the glacier collapse.  He was going to stop it.”  She paused for a moment when she realized what had just happened.  “My god, you didn’t stop it did you?!  That’s what caused the collapse!  Tell me you stopped it.”

The President muted his microphone again and looked directly at Stevas.  It all became clear.  “Clay knew what was going to happen, and he was trying to stop your attack.”  The President raised his voice.  “Your nuclear explosion just triggered a global tsunami!”

Stevas’ face went white.  He shook his head, utterly speechless.

The President looked like he was going to come over the desk at him.  Instinctively, the other men stepped back.  “You did what you had to do!  That’s what you said, and now tens of millions of people are going to die because of YOU!”

“I-I was just doing what…”  Stevas stammered, looking at Mason for help.  “I didn’t know.  It was the ring we were worried about…I didn’t know it would trigger anything.”

“Look at me, Hank.”  The President growled as he leaned forward.  “Where is John Clay?”

Stevas did not answer.  His mind was struggling to understand exactly how everything had just turned so horribly wrong.

“I said,” the President repeated, “where is John Clay?!”

Stevas looked down at the floor.  “I-I sent a Delta team.”  He looked up sheepishly.  “They killed him.”

Langford’s eyes suddenly filled with rage, and he leapt at Stevas.  “You son of a bitch!”  He grabbed Stevas by the collar and hit him with a right punch, knocking him over a small table and onto the floor.  Without missing a beat, Langford jumped over the table and reached for Stevas again before Miller and Bullman grabbed his arms and pulled him back.

“Mr. President?” Kathryn called out.  “Are you there?”

“Yes, Ms. Lokke, I’m still here.  Please hold on a minute.”  He looked at Stevas who was trying to stand up.  “We’re working through something here.”  The President watched Stevas regain his balance and back away from everyone in the room.  The President was about to walk around his desk when his phone beeped again three times.  He slowly reached down and hit the second line.  “Yes?”

“Mr. President,” a man’s voice said, “this is Agent Rubke, downstairs.  There’s uh…someone here to see you.”

“Someone to see me?” Carr asked.  “Who the hell is it?”

“He says his name is John Clay.”

43

The Secret Service agent walked into the room and held the door open, waiting for Clay to enter.  Everyone was surprised to see Palin follow Clay into the room.  Clay stopped and scanned the room.  When he got to Stevas, his eyes locked on him.  “That’s him,” he said to Palin.

Palin stood still, staring at Stevas.  For the first time, Clay saw genuine fear in Stevas’ eyes and watched as he backed up still further into the wall.  If he could have become the wall, he would have.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the agent said to the President.  “We don’t know how they got past the gate.”

“It’s alright.  You can leave us.”

The agent hesitated until Carr looked at him again.  He finally stepped past them and joined the other two agents waiting outside.  The door closed quietly behind Clay and Palin.

“Well, well, Mr. Clay.  We’ve been looking for you.”  The President stepped forward, glancing at Stevas.  “In fact, we thought something had happened to you.”

“Something did.”  Clay followed Carr’s look back to Stevas and then looked over at Langford.  “They killed Caesare.”

Langford’s jaw tightened in anger, but he remained silent, glaring at Stevas.

“I’m sorry, Clay.  It seems some of us thought you may have been on the wrong side.  Something that just got corrected a few minutes ago.  I think I can speak for everyone here when I say we are relieved that you are alright.  Both you and Mr. Palin.”  He gestured toward the phone.  “Ms. Lokke has informed us that you were evidently trying to stop the nuclear blast.”

“That’s right.”  Clay stated simply.

“Well, now we have a serious problem on our hands.  That nuclear explosion apparently triggered the collapse in the Ronne Ice Shelf just a few minutes ago.  We now have a tsunami headed north that we cannot stop.”

Clay pointed to the phone.  “Is she still on the line?”

The President reached down and pushed the button for the first line.  “Ms. Lokke, are you still there?”

After a moment, her voice came out of the speaker.  The engines sounded lower.  “Yes, sir.  We have to head back to McMurdo though as we won’t have enough fuel.  I have lost sight of the tsunami.”

Carr quickly motioned to Mason, his Chief of Staff.  “Get us a video feed!  However you have to do it.”

Mason nodded, walked to the far side of the room, and pulled his cell phone from his jacket.

Clay looked at the President who nodded and moved back, giving him the phone.  Clay walked across the large rug and sat slowly down in the seat.  Palin followed and stood next to him.  Clay exhaled slowly and spoke into the phone.

“Ms. Lokke, this is John Clay.  We spoke a few days ago.”

“I remember.  You said you were going to stop the explosion.  What the hell happened?”

“Well,” Clay said, “some people had other plans.”  He softly put a hand to his chest and scooted forward in his chair.  His wound was still extremely painful.  “Ms. Lokke, I understand this cannot be stopped by conventional means…but there are other islands that are also at risk of a massive collapse, correct?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly.

“Isn’t Tristan Island one of those high risk locations?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, with a touch of sarcasm, “although Tristan is medium risk.  There are dozens of them around the world.”

“Ms. Lokke,” Clay continued slowly.  “Isn’t Tristan’s slide zone on the south side of the island?”

“Well, yes.”  Kathryn suddenly gasped. “Oh my god!  Yes it is!”

“Is this possible?” Clay asked her.

“Yes!” She almost yelled into her headset.  “Yes, it’s possible!  We’d have to check some things, but it might work.”  She paused.  “But we would need something to start it.”

Everyone seemed to close in around Clay and Palin at the desk.  “What?” said the President.  “What might work?!”

Clay turned to Carr.  “These land mass collapses have happened throughout history and are very infrequent, but as we know, the effects are devastating.  Tristan is a large island in the South Atlantic and is one of the locations where part of the land mass is slowly separating.  It’s not due for a very long time but we may be able to help it happen, and create a tidal wave traveling in the opposite direction.”  He looked at everyone as he spoke.  “If we can’t stop the tsunami headed this way, perhaps we can block it.”

Everyone looked eager.  “Ms. Lokke?” Carr asked.

“We need to verify our data,” she said, “Most waves pass through each other but it is possible for some to collide, given the right circumstances.  Something called constructive interference.  It’s not as common but there’s still a chance of reducing the size of the wave traveling north.  It may mean the difference between thousands of lives instead of millions.”

Carr looked back to Clay.  “And how would we start it?”

“It would take something big,” he said, “like a nuclear impact.”

The President shook his head.  “Wait a minute.  We’re talking about another nuclear bomb?”

The irony was not wasted on Clay, or the President, for that matter.  Without the first nuke, they would not have needed the second.  But, more importantly, this would be the first time a nuclear explosion was used to save lives.  The President stepped back, shaking his head.  How on earth was he going to explain two nuclear explosions?

Langford placed his hand gently on Clay’s shoulder.  “How did you know that, John?”

Clay shrugged innocently.  “I read up on Ms. Lokke and her work after we met her at JAX.”

Miller looked at the President.  “Sir, we are going to require launch codes for this.  And the Vice President.”

***

“Mr. President, we have a visual on the tsunami.”  Mason turned on a large monitor on the wall.  “It’s a live satellite.”  The picture in the monitor showed a wide angle view of the South Atlantic Ocean.  When Mason zoomed in, a small, almost faint line could be seen moving up the picture.

“It looks smaller than I thought.”

“Tsunamis cannot be seen in deep water,” answered Clay.  “They grow when they reach the shore.”

The phone rang and Carr answered immediately.  “Go ahead.”

Kathryn’s voice came over the speaker.  “Mr. President, we’ve just gone over the data with some colleagues in D.C.  We think this is our best option.”

Carr sighed.  “And what happens if we unleash another wave in the wrong direction?”

“Mr. President,” came Kathryn’s voice over the loud engines.  “I honestly don’t think we can make this situation worse.”

He looked at Mason.  “Get the Chinese and the Russians on the phone.  We better make damn sure they know what this is when it shows up on their radars.”  Mason nodded and ran for the door.  He opened it just as Miller and Vice President Bailey were coming in.  Miller was carrying the infamous briefcase called ‘the football’, which carried the country’s nuclear launch codes.  He placed it on the table in front of the President.

Carr skipped to his second phone line.  When the female voice answered, he said, “Get me NORAD.”  He then moved to the metal briefcase, turning the tumblers to the correct combination and then pressing the buttons in to release the locks.  The lid popped open quietly.

“NORAD is on, sir,” replied the female voice.  A moment later, it was replaced by a deep voice.  “This is General Schmidt.”

The Vice President stepped to his side as Carr leaned into the microphone.  “This is President Jonathan Scott Carr.  Prepare to verify.”

The sky was overcast over most of central Georgia.  The trees were dark green, and the forest seemed to go on forever.  The rolling forested hills were only interrupted periodically by patches of open space, covered with bright green grass waving gently under the cool breeze.  One large patch of open space was nearly hidden among the oaks and pines, surrounded by a large steel chain link fence.  The old painted sign on the entrance to the area read ‘No Trespassing - Department of Agriculture’.  Inside the fence was a large metal shed with a dome on top of the roof.  A tall antenna tower stood next to it.

Suddenly, the silence was split when a deafening siren sounded and the dome lit up with a bright orange spinning light.  On the ground, a large section of grass rumbled sideways, revealing a silo beneath it.  As the silo was revealed, so was the tip of a large missile.  No sooner had the door slid fully open, the silo instantly filled with smoke and fire.  In less than a second, the missile shot from the ground, climbed quickly through the air and disappeared into the gray clouds above.

44

First sighted in 1506, the island of Tristan Da Cunha was the largest island in the most remote archipelago in the Atlantic Ocean, lying over 1,700 miles from the nearest major land mass.  Annexed by the United Kingdom in 1816 to prevent it being used as a staging ground to rescue Napoleon Bonaparte on Saint Helena, the island was home to just over two hundred sixty residents.  With only one small town called “The Settlement”, the local families were far removed from modern conveniences, and problems.

Eleven-year-old, Neri Repetto, had finished school and was climbing the hill to his secret place along the island’s only waterfall.  The days were long this time of year and he still had plenty of time to finish his chores.  Today, he hoped to surprise his mother and younger brother with fish for dinner.  He had been hoping the same thing every day for almost two weeks, but Neri was not one to give up.

As he climbed the side of the mountain, he spotted a goat behind a large tree and contemplated whether he should take it back to Mrs. Hagan.  He decided to take it home on his way back.  The afternoon was warm.  In tattered shoes, Neri jumped from rock to rock as he continued to climb.  It was not long before he could hear the sound of the waterfall beyond the large trees.  With long strides, Neri quickened his pace and headed into the shade beneath the trees.

Neri froze.  He stood, still staring, trying to figure out what it was that he was looking at.  He slowly looked around.  Seeing no one else, he took a few steps forward.  It did not look like anything he had ever seen.  He crept a little closer.  It was wavering slightly, and the bright blue light formed a large oval that was a little higher than his head.  The center looked dark, but not quite black.  He studied the object carefully.  He looked at the ground in front of the strange oval.  There appeared to be footprints in the wet grass.

“Mama! Mama!” Neri ran yelling into the small house.

“Neri!” His mother snapped at him, looking up from her wood stove.  “Your brother is asleep!”

“Mama!” he said quietly.  “You have to come see!”

She wiped her hands on her apron.  “Come see what, Neri?  Did one of those goats run off again?”

“Yes, yes, but that’s not what I want to show you.”  He grabbed her hand and pulled her reluctantly out the door.

His mother stepped outside, looking around.  None of the red roofs of The Settlement appeared to be on fire and there was no sound coming from the main street.  “What is it?  I don’t see anything.”

“No,” he said, “it’s up there.”  Neri pointed to the trail that ran up the mountainside.  “Up by the waterfall.”

His mother squinted her eyes.  “I still don’t see anything.”

“You can’t see it from here.  You have to come up.” He insisted, still pulling on her arm.

“Please, Neri,” she sighed.  “I can’t very well leave your brother here alone.”

Neri was still breathing hard from his run back to town.  “It’s…a light.  A bright blue light, just standing on the grass.”

She eyed Neri with a raised eyebrow.  “Have you been eating the mushrooms?”

“No!” he complained.  “I was on my way to fish.  It’s up there next to my spot.  It’s…incredible.”

“I’m sure it is,” his mother said, shaking her apron out.  She really could not imagine what he was talking about.  She turned to walk back into the house when something caught her eye.  She turned around and looked up along the hill.  There was something in the sky, something moving very quickly and leaving a white trail behind it, like the big airplanes did.  “What is that?”

Neri looked up and saw it too.

His mother watched it carefully and then suddenly opened her eyes wide.  She did not know what it was but it looked like it was headed towards them.  “Neri!” she screamed, grabbing him by the arm.  “Get inside!” She threw him through the door ahead of her.  As she began to close the door, she paused just for a moment.  Why is the sky so blue? She thought to herself that she had never seen anything like that before.  She blinked and looked at the other buildings around her.  Everything looked blue.

***

The President and his cabinet watched as the giant wave moved up through the Atlantic ocean at a speed of over three hundred miles per hour.  The island of Tristan Da Cunha with its small archipelago was just below the latitude of Africa’s Cape of Good Hope.  Everyone could see clearly from the satellite that if it could not be stopped there, the damage would start almost immediately when it hit Africa’s southwestern coast.  It would begin with the first large metropolitan city of Cape Town and its population of over three million.  The next city to be devastated was Buenos Aires, on the South American coast and the other side of the Atlantic.

Kathryn had landed just minutes ago at McMurdo where she and her team now watched from a large conference room.  The room was deathly silent as they watched the massive wave.

The dark line in the ocean approached a small uninhabited island, two hundred miles southeast of Tristan.  This island would provide the best measurement of the tsunami’s energy.  It would be the first island hit full force, and give a visual estimation for what was to come.

Kathryn and her team knew that if a counter wave could not be generated before the tsunami passed much farther beyond this first island, the wave would not be able to travel far enough from Tristan to provide the effect they needed, or spread wide enough across the ocean.

As the tsunami reached the first island, it quickly grew much larger on the monitor as the island’s rising mass beneath the ocean forced the full size of the tsunami up to the surface.  Kathryn and her team gasped.  It was enormous.

In one smooth movement, the wave struck and quickly wrapped itself around, enveloping the entire island.  Part of the island’s southern facing cliffs could be seen crumbling into giant pieces, before the water engulfed everything.  The total shock, however, felt both from the White House and McMurdo, came when the island completely disappeared from view.  Over twenty five square miles of solid rock reaching hundreds of feet high, was completely destroyed in less than a minute.  It was as if the top of the island had been simply wiped away.

“Oh my god!” Kathryn Lokke gasped.  It was so much bigger than any of them were expecting.  Her hopes of stopping this thing, even with a counter tsunami, began to melt.

In the White House, President Carr’s face, as well as the others, went completely white.

The incredible wave of destruction continued its relentless push north.

***

A blue dome covered The Settlement as the intercontinental ballistic missile approached Tristan at over 3,000 miles per hour.  Its coordinates were exact.  The missile dove and detonated less than 300 feet above the south end of the island.  Even with the island’s peak blocking some of the impact, the entire sky turned bright white, as the incredible force of the nuclear reaction was unleashed.  Much of the rocky slope instantly turned to glass and the downward impact against the mountain caused the structure beneath the island to shift and then buckle altogether.  A line formed and cut its way across the southern slope, breaking the glass and rock into millions of fragments and sending them upward in every direction.  A deep rumbling followed, shaking the entire island violently.  Then in one giant motion, a third of the island slid away from the mountain and off its underwater base, plunging straight into the ocean.  The energy released in the warhead was just a fraction of that released when the slide displaced an enormous mass of water, pushing it forward into a second gigantic wave.

***

The wave raced southward, almost instantly washing over the smaller islands of the archipelago, taking every bit of loose soil or life form with it.

Everyone watched as two waves of unimaginable power sped towards each other.  It took less than ten minutes for them to cover the distance.  When they reached each other, the impact was easily visible as the dark lines on the satellite suddenly turned white.  The white line of impact became thick and began to grow wider and wider, becoming a mile wide, then five miles, then ten.  The pressure pushed the water into the air, forming a giant white wall which began to ripple out almost half way across the Atlantic.  The wall of water grew taller and taller reaching nearly three hundred feet above the surface before it began to slow.  The rising water finally began to slow, and then stopped, dropping back toward the ocean.  When it hit the surface, the impact created a huge depression, which was quickly covered by the incoming surge on both sides.  Both sides of the surge smashed into one another, created another wall, which itself eventually dropped down to make another depression, followed by one final surge.

At hundreds of miles per hour, each successive surge followed the ripple outward in both directions, as the tails from both waves finally impacted each other.

***

From the satellite, they could see the thick line of water begin to disperse and eventually return to its normal blue color.  The faint lines from each wave could be seen continuing further away, having passed through each other, but with virtually none of their energy left.

Everyone at McMurdo screamed and jumped up and down, hugging each other.  Kathryn stood motionless, feeling the energy drain from her body.  At the same time, her eyes filled up with tears.  She couldn’t believe it.  She simply could not believe it.  It worked.  It actually worked.

In Washington, the President fell back into his chair exhausted.  The rest of the men clapped wildly and Stevas, still off to the side, clapped harder than anyone.  They all stared at the monitor, watching the water swirl and blend back in with the rest of the ocean.  Carr covered his face with his hands and just shook his head.  He had no words.  No words at all.

45

Clay stepped out of the portal, behind Palin, and into a large blue room.  He looked around and realized that they were standing in a large sphere surrounded by water.  The portal blinked out behind them and the room darkened, allowing his eyes to adjust.  He looked at the nearby wall and walked to it.  The water appeared to somehow be part of the room.  Incredulous, he turned and looked back at Palin, who merely smiled.  Clay reached out and touched the wall.  His finger went straight through into the cold water on the other side.  He drew his hand back and looked at his wet finger.  He tasted it.  Saltwater.

He looked further through the water and could see the distorted shape of the ring, giant and still.  He turned back to Palin.  “This is the city.  Your settlement.”

“Yes.”

“We were here before, right?”  Clay examined the room.

Palin made a humorous expression.  “Yes, but we were unconscious then.”

Clay smiled and nodded his head.  He looked through the wall on the other side and could see hundreds of similar spheres.  Something caught his eye and he turned to see a moving object headed their way. It looked like a tunnel forming from another sphere to theirs.  In the tunnel were several people, all walking toward them.

The tunnel connected to their room and a small group entered, led by a woman dressed in a deep colored blue robe.  On her head was a band with stones embedded in it.  She walked smoothly toward him and stopped a few steps away.

“Hello, Mr. Clay,” she said, with a smile.  “My name is Laana.”  She reached out her hand and he took it gently.

“Laana.” Clay bowed slightly.

She continued to smile as she watched him.  “I want to thank you.  You have helped us greatly.  Without you, I’m afraid we would not have survived.”

“Well, with all due respect, I think I was also part of the problem.”

Her blue eyes softened at the edges.  “I suppose so, but there were others.  Yet in the end, you were our salvation.  You returned Palin in time for us to protect ourselves, and the ring.  Without you, both rings would have been destroyed and neither of our people would have survived.”

He accepted the compliment.  “It was my pleasure.”

A loud sound reverberated behind them.  Clay turned around to see the ring slowly begin turning again.

“What now?” he asked.

She motioned to the others behind her.  “Now we go home.”  She answered his next question before he could ask it.  “We have enough water now to maintain and grow again.”  Behind her, Clay noticed some of the distant spheres begin to move.  They seemed to detach from the rest and float inward, toward the ring.  Others also began to detach until dozens were following.  Clay realized that she was still holding his hand.  She gave it a warm squeeze.  “We are thankful that Palin found a good man to trust.”

“I have questions,” he said.  “A lot of them, actually.”

She smiled.  “I’m sure you do.”

“Why did you tell us everything?”  He looked over her shoulder at Palin.  “Why reveal everything to us so easily?”

Laana tilted her head.  “Palin agreed to tell you.  He was in your debt.  You see, the man you allowed him to save aboard your vessel…was his son.”

Clay’s eyes widened.  “I had no idea.”

She smiled.  “Besides, we knew we could not remain undetected for long.”

Clay contemplated his next question.  He was afraid of what she would say.  He took a deep breath.  “Is there-” he began, when Laana held up her hand and stopped him.

“As for your other questions,” she said, “your people will need to discover the answers for themselves.  It is unwise for a race to gain knowledge too quickly.  Trust me.”

With that, she let his hand slip from hers and took a step back.  The others behind her, in similar robes, all nodded to him and turned away smoothly.  One by one, they left as the tunnel reappeared and traveled back in the opposite direction.

Only Palin remained.  The tunnel stayed open, waiting for him.  He approached Clay and put out his hand.

“Thank you, John Clay.”

“You’re welcome, Palin.” Clay looked at him and smiled.  “Brothers?”

Palin squeezed his hand.  “Brothers.”

46

Alison sat in what was left of her large research room.  The aquarium was officially shut down for three weeks.  The carpet was gone and dozens of workers were repairing the walls.  On the far side, some of the carpet had already been replaced, and the servers were being reinstalled with the help of Lee and Chris.  New desks were being carried in through the large hallway and stacked to the side until the floor was ready.  Now, the workers were slowly beginning to file out for the evening.

She looked at the tank.  The bullets had been removed from the glass, and the holes patched and refinished.  Inside, Sally slowly swam in place, healing from the deep wounds that covered her body.  Alison had fared even worse.  Her right arm was in a cast and lacerations covered most of her face.  Her legs had been very badly injured, but fortunately, the wheelchair she sat in was temporary.

The place felt like an opened tomb.  She thought of the people who had died.  She thought of Dirk, who had innocently swam right into the middle of it all, thinking he was helping.  Dolphins were so much more beautiful than humans, she thought.  They deserved to be here more than we did.

She lowered her head.  Dirk and Sally felt like her children, and losing Dirk hurt her heart more than she ever thought possible.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash.  Alison looked up and around the room.  After exchanging curious looks with Chris and Lee, she looked back and froze when her eyes fell on the tank.  There in the water, next to Sally, was Dirk, slowly moving his tail back and forth.  Sally burst with excitement, circling him over and over, wounds and all.  Dirk nudged her affectionately as she passed.  After several moments, he turned his attention to Alison and swam to the edge of the tank.  He opened his mouth and said something, but without IMIS, it would go unheard.

He looked at her curiously, unsure why she was shaking.  It would be some time before she could explain human crying to him.

And it would be almost a full year before Alison would learn what had even happened.

***

President Carr stepped up to the lectern.  He looked like he had aged rapidly in the last week.  With his normal prose, he smiled and began the press conference.

“My fellow Americans, I am both troubled and proud to report to you the extraordinary efforts of our men and women in uniform in stopping not just one, but two nuclear terrorist attacks.  As you know, avoiding a nuclear strike on American soil is our upmost priority, and today we have done precisely that.  Two airplanes, one coming from the Middle East and one coming from Africa, were both identified, and destroyed, before they could reach our shores.  And while we can be glad that they were stopped, the bombs were, in fact, armed and detonated on impact.  Fortunately, the lives lost were minimal.  We believe these two warheads were stolen from Russia’s stockpile, which we will…”

Clay watched the President from his barstool at the end of the counter.  The spin was better than he expected.  He reached for his beer, which had hardly been touched.  Governments lie, he thought.  They always have and they always will.  He raised the glass to his lips, but stopped short and put it back down.  He sighed and stood up slowly, holding his side.  It was going to be a long recovery.

He pulled a bill from his wallet and dropped it onto the counter.

***

Out on the street, he decided to go for a walk and headed toward Constitution Avenue.  Within a few blocks, he could see the tip of the Washington Monument over the rest of the buildings.  At the park, he found and sat down on a bench, admiring the monuments to our forefathers.

“Next time you have one of your bright ideas,” a voice said behind him, “you can count me out.”

Startled, Clay whirled around to see Steve Caesare standing behind him.  He blinked several times.  “What…how?”  He stood up without turning around, wondering if he were hallucinating.

Caesare, with a load of bandages under his clothes, stood smiling at Clay.

“I don’t understand,” Clay said, walking toward him.

He shrugged.  “Back in the lab, when you went through that portal thing, I managed to crawl through before it closed.  I don’t really remember much after that.”

Clay simply stood there, shaking his head.  His eyes began to well up.

“Aw,” Caesare said.  “I hope you’re not gonna cry right here in front of everybody.”

Clay smiled and wiped the tears away.  He walked forward to Caesare and hugged him, causing both of them to groan in pain.

“Hey,” Caesare said, stepping back.  “Did you hear about Stevas?”

Clay shook his head.  “No.”

“Nobody’s seen him.  Sounds like his wife called in a missing person’s report and nobody can find him.  What a shame, huh?”

“Carr probably threw him in jail.”

“From what I hear they don’t know where he is either.”

The two exchanged a puzzled look.  After a long moment, a grin began to spread across both their faces.  They turned and began walking away from the park.  “So what now?” asked Caesare.  “I still get my pension right?”

Clay stopped and frowned at him.  “Man, I’m sorry, I told Borger he could have it.”

Caesare laughed.  “Damn, John, I wasn’t even cold yet.”

Clay smiled at him and looked up at the setting sun.  “Actually, I thought I might take a drive south to Miami.  Maybe check out the aquarium.  I hear they’re doing some interesting things down there.”

Leap

Book 2

DEDICATION

To Andrea.  My wife and partner in everything.  Including writing.  If people only knew what my stories look like before she gets a hold of them.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to Autumn, Julie, Liz, Richele, Susan, Tony, Frank, Bojan, Rob, Luke, and Shawn, for their expert advice and proofing help.

And to Jill Weinstein, a great proofreader and editor if there ever was one (easyedits@outlook.com).

1

“I think you’d better get down here.  We’ve got company.”

Her eyes opened wide with the phone receiver still gripped tightly in her hand.  She immediately hung up and jumped out of her chair, rounding the desk and running for the door.  After flinging it open and sprinting down the carpeted hallway, she approached the wide stairs and descended as quickly as she could without tripping.

The layout of the new building was strikingly similar to the old one, but here the air conditioning system was barely able to stave off Puerto Rico’s brutal humidity.  By the time she’d made it to the large double doors, the familiar flush through her body told her that her sweat glands were kicking into gear.  She lowered her head and leaned into the doors, pushing them both open.

The familiar computerized voice sounded almost immediately.  Hello Alison.

Alison smiled broadly toward the giant seawater tank.  “Hello, Sally,” she replied, partially out of breath.  “You’re back.”

Sally wiggled her tail happily.  We back.

Alison raised an eyebrow, scanning the rest of the tank’s bright blue water.  “Where’s Dirk?”

Before she could answer, Dirk plunged into the top of the tank with a giant splash and performed a barrel roll as he skirted past Sally.

Alison laughed.  He loved making a grand entrance.  Of course, they really needed to change the part of the tank that allowed him to do that.

Dirk continued to the bottom where he swung up and around before coasting in next to Sally.  Hello Alison.  Hello Chris.

Alison smirked and tilted her head slightly.  “Hello, Dirk.”

We happy see you.

“We’re happy to see you too.”  Chris Ramirez joined Alison in front of the tank, holding his perpetual cup of coffee.  How he could drink coffee all day in this heat, she would never know.

Their new facility was smaller than the aquarium in Miami, but this one was strictly a research center, which meant fewer unplanned distractions.  Gutted from an old cannery, the building was refurbished and expanded to include a large indoor-outdoor tank for Dirk and Sally.  Now they could come and go as they pleased.  No more bars.

It was, of course, the least she and the team could do after what they’d all been through.  And true to their word, the dolphins returned regularly.  It also helped that Dirk was fed like a king.

Behind Alison and Chris, and against the far wall, stood an immense computer system with hundreds of blinking lights.  IMIS, short for Inter Mammal Interpretive System, was the same system that made their first communications with Dirk and Sally possible.  But now IMIS was over twice its original size.  After her team relocated to Puerto Rico and closer to the dolphins’ natural breeding ground, the IMIS system had gone through a major upgrade.  It was almost quaint to think about its abilities before, compared to its computing power now.  It made Lee Kenwood, their head of technology, absolutely giddy.  In fact, Alison and Chris had both joked to Lee that it looked as though he were trying to show up the engineers at NASA.

Alison didn’t fully understand the specifications of the newly upgraded IMIS, but she did know it had a lot to do with what Lee called teraflops. But to her, it was simply bigger and faster.  And even though it had doubled in size, Lee claimed it was almost eight times more powerful.  The amount of data that IMIS could process before in a day, it could now do in a couple hours.

Sally swam close to the underwater microphone.  How you Alison?

“I am very well,” she smiled.  “How are you?”

We good.  You ready now.

“Not yet, but soon.”

Smiling, Chris took a sip from his cup.  “I guess we have some calls to make.”

“We sure do.”

Food now.

Alison glanced back at Dirk as he thrust his tail up and down, excitedly.  She folded her arms in front and shook her head.

If the world had been surprised at their breakthrough before, this time they were going to be absolutely stunned.

2

“The Cradle of Naval Aviation” was the unofficial name of the Naval Air Base near Pensacola, Florida.  It was built as the country’s first Naval Air Station and remained so even well into the First World War.  In present day, it was known for being the primary training facility for all Navy, Marine, and Coast Guard aviators and flight officers.  It was also home to the Blue Angels, the Navy’s famed flight demonstration squadron.

Spanning an area of well over eight thousand acres, the Pensacola Naval Complex employed twenty-three thousand military and seventy-four hundred civilians.   Not surprisingly, it was a major hub for modern hi-tech naval research and testing.

It was also where Commanders John Clay and Steve Caesare, from Naval Investigations, had been living for the past two weeks.

Both men briskly made their way down the long, polished hallway of the Naval Education and Training Command building’s third floor.  When they reached the end, the pair stopped before a large white door.  John Clay knocked and the door was promptly opened from the inside.  Stepping into the room, Clay and Caesare recognized Rear Admiral David Einhorn, the commander of the NETC.  Einhorn was sitting behind his desk with his Force Master Chief standing next to him, both of whom ceased their conversation and looked up expectantly when Clay and Caesare entered.  Almost unnoticed, the lieutenant who had opened the door then silently stepped out behind them and closed it again.

Einhorn nodded.  “Gentlemen, I understand you have something for me.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Clay.  They both approached the desk, but Clay took an extra step forward and handed Admiral Einhorn a thin folder.  “We’ve finished the investigation, sir.  Here is the signed report.”

Einhorn took the folder and flipped it open, glancing over the first page.  “A power failure?  Are you kidding?”

Clay shook his head.  “No, sir.”

“How the hell does a power failure cause a drone to go rogue?”

They’d been expecting this reaction, especially from Einhorn.  After all, they’d already uploaded their report online and forwarded copies to both Einhorn and their own boss, Admiral Langford, a half hour ago.  Their hand delivered copy was merely a formality.  Judging from his reaction, Einhorn had read the online version already.

Einhorn hadn’t wanted them there from the beginning.  The failure with the drone was a fluke as far as he was concerned.  Hell, as far as his entire staff was concerned.  But it did happen.  A new drone lost connection with its remote pilot for twelve seconds.  It may not have seemed like a big deal to everyone else, especially since the connection was reestablished successfully, but it required an investigation.  Not because the Navy necessarily worried about the connection, but because of what might have happened during those twelve seconds.

A few years before, a Predator Drone had been captured in Iran by blocking the aircraft’s satellite connection back to its remote pilot in Arizona.  Worse, Iran never had to hack the drone.  They only had to keep the connection blocked long enough to force it into an emergency mode, which compelled the drone to get itself to the ground safely.  It was a bug in the software: a mistake.

Nevertheless, having the world watch their televisions and see Iranian soldiers dancing up and down on one of the United States’ four million dollar secret weapons was not something the Pentagon was willing to endure again.

Clay cleared his throat and answered Einhorn.  “Well, sir, the failure was caused by a power fluctuation on one of the drone’s motherboards.  It’s the same board that controls the transceivers and antennas.  We think it’s a design flaw with the hardware since we’ve been able to reproduce the problem several times.”

Einhorn dropped the file on his desk and leaned back in his chair, clearly irritated.  “So, was it hacked?”

“No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so,” the Admiral scoffed.  “I told them they were sending you boys out for nothing.”

This time Clay and Caesare looked at each other.  “Well,” replied Caesare, “it doesn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t be hacked…sir.”

Einhorn furrowed his brow at Caesare.  He didn’t care for either one of them.  He had a department to run, one of the most important in the Navy, and he didn’t like these guys from investigations poking their noses wherever they liked.  Yet, while Einhorn was not happy, he certainly wasn’t stupid either.

It wasn’t clear why, but he knew both of the commanders standing before him reported directly to Admiral Langford, the President’s new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.  Langford had replaced General Griffith, who moved to fill the role of National Security Advisor after that position was unexpectedly vacated.  Now Langford had the President’s ear, so Einhorn wasn’t about to do or say anything stupid.

“So, what’s your recommendation then?” asked Einhorn, with heavy sarcasm.

Clay paid no attention to the Admiral’s tone.  “A full analysis, which includes an audit of the hardware design and software computer code.”

“And how long will that take?”

“I’m not sure, sir.  It would depend on the resources available.”  Clay knew Einhorn wasn’t going to like any estimate he offered, so he simply left it at that.

Einhorn grunted and picked up the folder again.  “Well, I trust Langford will let us know how to proceed.  I suppose that’s all, gentlemen.  Thank you for your time.”

Clay and Caesare both gave slight nods and spun around.  They walked back to the door and exited without a sound.

After Caesare pulled the door closed behind him, he looked at Clay.  “Have we ever discussed how thankless this job is?”

“Almost weekly,” smiled Clay.  He turned to fall into step with Caesare when his cell phone rang.  Stopping, he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the displayed number.  “It’s Langford.”

He held the phone to his ear.  “This is Clay.”  After a long pause, he replied with a simple, “Yes, sir.”

Caesare raised his eyebrows, curiously.  “That was quick.”

“We need to find a conference room.”

***

Truth be told, Admiral Langford never wanted the chairman job.  But in the end, he was an officer and the President asked him to do it.  And frankly, he was leery of who else would have been asked had he declined.  Although he originally had his doubts, Langford decided that Carr actually had the fortitude and ethics to be a solid President.  And that was something most military leaders longed for.

Langford’s weathered face appeared on the video screen in front of Clay and Caesare.  “I see you’ve uploaded your report on the drone.  Have you talked to Einhorn yet?”

“Yes, sir,” Clay nodded.  “We just dropped off the signed hard copy.”

“How’d he take it?”

Caesare smiled.  “He loved it!”

“I bet.”  Langford couldn’t decide whether to scoff or roll his eyes.  “I guess as long as he didn’t physically throw you out of his office, we can consider it a success.  You’re probably aware that he’s not a big fan of Investigations.”

“We picked up on that.”

“Good,” Langford continued, glancing at his watch.  “I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him shortly.”  He looked back into the camera.  “In the meantime, I’m sending a plane for you.  I need you on it ASAP.”

“Where are we going?”

“Brazil.  We have a bit of a situation.  Call it a surprise.”

“I hate surprises,” Caesare chortled.

Clay looked at Caesare.  “That’s true, sir.  His second marriage was largely a surprise.”

The corner of Langford’s lip curled at the joke.  “Relax.  It’s not an engagement party.  It appears we are the proud owners of a new sub.”

Clay and Caesare peered with anticipation at the screen.

“Last night the Brazilian Navy captured a submarine off the coast of French Giana.  It’s Russian.  November class.”

Both men’s expressions changed from curious to confused.  “November class?  I thought those were decommissioned.”

“So did we.”  The admiral leaned forward onto his elbows.  “It appears at least one was not.  It was first detected three days ago and a Brazilian Tikuna was dispatched.”

“And they captured it?”  Clay asked.  A single submarine catching another was quite a feat.

Langford smiled, reading Clay’s face.  “Well, they asked for a little help.  We had two of our boats behind the Tikuna.  Unofficially, of course.”

“What’s a November doing in Brazilian waters?” asked Caesare.  “Something that old wouldn’t simply be out on patrol.”

“No, it wouldn’t.  Unfortunately, we don’t know why.  The crew isn’t talking.  All twenty-seven of them.”

“Twenty-seven?”

“A skeleton crew,” confirmed Langford.

Caesare raised an eyebrow.  “Is that even possible?”

“Evidently.”

“What did the Russians say?”

“We haven’t asked them yet,” Langford replied, with a smile.

“You’re not suggesting we talk to the crew, sir?”

“No, I want you two to get down there and take a look at that Russian sub.  The pictures we got back suggest it has something important on board, and we want to know what it is.”

3

Lee Kenwood was thrilled with their new lab.  Finally able to separate their systems from the main observation area, it gave him some much needed elbow room to work on the hardware for their next project.  And it was a doozy.

He also appreciated the extra help from Juan Diaz, a Puerto Rican native and computer engineer, just a few years out of college.  He was a fast study and incredibly sharp.

Lee and Juan both looked up from a large table they were standing over as Alison opened the door, letting in a loud roar from the yelling children behind her.

“Hi, Ali,” they said, in tandem. Lee punched a button on his keyboard and watched the results appear across the screen.  Juan was carefully holding still a large device with a thin computer cable attached.

“Hello.”  Alison let the door close behind her and crossed the room.  “How are things looking?”

“Pretty good.  We’ve got most of it uploaded and tested.  I think we should be ready by Thursday morning.”  He looked up from his screen.  “I take it Dirk and Sally are back?”

“How can you tell?”

“Sounds like a zoo out there.”

The ‘zoo’ was approximately forty screaming, very excited children.  During their big move to Puerto Rico, Alison and her team somehow managed to become local celebrities with all of the press.  Earlier in the year, her team had officially revealed the amazing breakthrough of their IMIS translation system in a demonstration for several news crews.  Not surprisingly, the news went global and people from everywhere quickly descended upon the aquarium to see for themselves.  Their communications with the dolphins was deemed the ‘Achievement of a Lifetime’ by several magazines, and for the next two months, she and her staff were invited on hundreds of television and radio interviews.  It was overwhelming, but it initially provided a welcome change of pace after what they’d been through.  However, in the end, the attention and visits never seemed to let up, so their move off the mainland wasn’t just for their research; it was also for their sanity.

Of course, no matter where they went, they were going to garner a lot of attention, and Puerto Rico was no different.  In fact, the entire island went wild when they found out that one of their old buildings on the south side of the island, just outside of Ponce, would be converted into a new research center for the famous ‘Dirk and Sally.'  What was a surprise was the reaction of the kids in Puerto Rico.

In the States, during their early stages of research, Alison and her team played host to countless children on field trips, coming to visit the dolphins.  Many of the kids were genuinely excited, but many others were not.  Instead, they sat off to the side, glued to their cell phone screens.  Alison had thought it odd at first, but after seeing the same thing class after class, it became downright depressing.

However, she did remember a very special fifth grade class from Hedrick Elementary in Lewisville, Texas, and the Puerto Rican children reminded her of them a lot.  In Puerto Rico, all the children were absolutely thrilled to come.  Every face remained pressed against the thick glass the entire time.  They couldn’t get enough, and, as a result, it couldn’t help but bring back some of that early excitement for Alison and her team.  So, in exchange, they decided to do something special for the kids.

Alison had an idea one day and talked to Lee and Juan about it.  It took a while, but they managed to set up a smaller translation server for visitors.  It had a much shorter vocabulary than the giant IMIS system and couldn’t translate new words, but it allowed the children to do something astounding: actually stand in front of the tank and talk with a real-life dolphin.

Alison remembered watching the children type on the keyboard for the first time, thinking some of the kids might actually pop from the excitement.  It was contagious.  She had never seen Dirk and Sally so excited either.  They would stay and talk to the children for hours until the very last one had left.

Of course, Dirk and Sally were free now and they came and went as they pleased.  So, when they did arrive, Alison and her team would promptly call the nearby schools to arrange some visits.  And neither the children, nor Dirk and Sally, ever showed any signs of tiring.  It was indeed a ‘zoo’ and she loved it.

“By the way,” Lee interrupted, standing behind her.  “Did DeeAnn find you?  She was looking for you earlier.  Something about helping with her research this afternoon.”

“No.  I’ll head over.”

Lee nodded and turned back to Juan, who was showing him something on his monitor.  As Alison turned to leave, her phone rang.  She looked at the screen and answered immediately.

“Hey there,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

“Hi,” replied a deep voice on the other end.

“How are you?”

She instinctively turned away from Lee and Juan, who both chuckled at her.  Lee playfully cupped his hands over his mouth.  “Tell him we said, ‘hi.’”

She made a shushing gesture with her hand and turned further around.  “Sorry.”

John Clay chuckled himself.  “I’m fine.  How are you?”

“Oh, pretty good.  I was just standing here giving Lee and Juan some tips on computers.”

Clay laughed.  “I bet that’s some advice.”

“Hey,” she said, half pretending to be hurt.  “I have a toaster.  I know how this stuff works!  So, where are you?”

“Um, I’m on a plane.”

Alison glanced at her watch.  “Already?  I thought your flight wasn’t until this evening.”

“Yeah, about that…unfortunately, something’s come up and I’m not going to be able to make it.”

Alison looked dejected.  “That’s too bad.  I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I know.  I’m sorry.  So was I.  Hopefully, it won’t be too long.”

“Where are you going?”

“Brazil,” Clay answered.  “Not too far.  Just on the other side of you.”

“Can you say what for?”

“I’m afraid I can’t.  Let’s just pretend I’m scouting romantic vacation spots.”

“You know it’s going to be one year pretty soon.”

“Yes, I know.”

Of course he did, she thought.  The man didn’t forget anything.  He had a mind like a steel trap.  He was actually kind of amazing that way.  He not only knew how to listen, but he actually remembered what she said for more than ten seconds.

Alison had to admit, he was nothing like she had expected when they first met.  He worked for the Navy, a branch of the military she loathed.  Of course, to be truthful, she hated all military branches.  But as it turned out, John Clay wasn’t just some Marine jarhead.  In fact, he was not only a man; he was a bona fide anomaly.  He was smart, considerate, and devastatingly handsome.  And those shoulders!

“I’m really sorry, Alison.”  Clay swayed side to side in his seat as his plane turned and bounced onto the runway.  “I’ll call you in the next day or two, okay?”

“Okay,” Alison said, still wearing a trace of a frown.  “Be safe.”

“Always.”

“Bye.”  She ended the call and remained staring at the phone.

“I take it he’s not coming,” Lee said behind her.

She sighed and dropped her hand, sliding the phone back into her pocket.  “No.”

***

The plane was a C-20 Gulfstream III, which had arrived less than thirty minutes after their video call with Langford.  Clay powered off his phone and closed his eyes, pressing his head gently into the leather headrest.  He regretted hearing the disappointment in Alison’s voice.

After a long moment and from the table between them, Clay picked up the folder containing his copy of the report on the Russian sub and flipped it open again.  He remained quiet, thinking.

“So, what I can’t figure out,” Caesare said, speaking first, “is what the hell kind of interest Brazil would hold for a Russian sub, and an old one at that?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.  Russia has a pretty good relationship with Brazil, so why the secrecy?”

“Because that’s what you do when you’re hiding.”

“But what were they hiding from?” Clay pondered.  “And why a fifty-year-old submarine everyone else in the world thought had been decommissioned?”

“Maybe it was because everyone thought it had been decommissioned,” Caesare said, with a touch of sarcasm.  He raised his bottle of beer and took a swig.  “But if I was Russia and wanted to go stealth, I sure as hell wouldn’t do it in a November class sub.  They’re noisy.”

Clay tilted his head back and absently examined the ceiling.  “Brazil has the second largest navy in the Americas.  Their entire fleet and infrastructure are well known.  What could the Russians be trying to find out?”

“It’s also odd that they haven’t said anything.”

“Agreed.  If there really was some secret to hide, wouldn’t they want to get their crew out quickly?”

“Unless speaking up makes it worse.”  Caesare tilted his bottle, examining it.  “Even if it did, why not just make up some PR story or misdirection?  Governments do that all the time.”

“True.  But it means we’re still asking the same question.  What do they want to know about Brazil?”

Caesare placed the bottle in a cup holder and leaned his seat back.  “Maybe there’s a simpler explanation.”

Clay raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“Maybe their navigator’s just an idiot.”

Clay laughed.  Outside, the dual engines of the Gulfstream reached maximum thrust, and the plane abruptly began to roll forward as the pilot released the brakes.  The aircraft sped down the runway, building speed until it lifted smoothly into the air.

As he watched the ground quickly fall away, Clay tried to relax, but couldn’t seem to dismiss something.  It was a nagging question that should have been answered in the report, but wasn’t.

4

After Alison left the guys in the lab, she headed back downstairs.  She was disappointed at not being able to see John, but a small side of her actually felt relieved.  They’d been dating for a year but given their jobs, and her move off the mainland, they hadn’t spent much time together lately.  Their relationship was moving slowly and Alison had to admit, she was beginning to feel a tad insecure.  It was why she was both excited and nervous to see him.  She had finally mustered the courage to broach the topic of ‘exclusivity.'

But it didn’t matter now.  She decided she was relieved to get a reprieve and gladly pushed it to the back of her mind.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and continued down the building’s new stone hallway, past the giant saltwater tank.  As she strode by, she grinned and stopped to watch the dozens of children surrounding the tank.  Chris was standing next to them, giving each child a turn at the keyboard, typing something out to Dirk and Sally.  Above them, an oversized monitor displayed each question for everyone to see.  The little boy now standing in front of the keyboard and typing away looked to be about eight.  Alison smiled when she read his question overhead; how high can you jump in the air?

That was a dare if she’d ever heard one.  She watched as Dirk heard the message and immediately darted off, swimming around the tank and shooting to the top of the water.  He then jumped high into the air above.  The kids went absolutely crazy.

Alison grinned and continued walking.  She passed the enormous wall of humming servers, which made up the new IMIS distributed computer system.  All of the machines were contained within dozens of large climate controlled, glass cabinets.

Turning a corner, she headed for the other half of the complex.  The second hallway was longer and darker but led into a bright, open area, lined with glass walls along the right side.  Unlike the dolphin’s tank, these walls were much taller and wrapped around part of the wild habitat area.  The rest of the perimeter continued around the habitat in the form of equally high walls, but made out of concrete.  In the middle was a wide, man-made hill sloping downward and covered in dense foliage, including Rosewood and Tabernanthe trees of varying sizes.  The ground was covered with hundreds of different types of thick bushes and shrubs with a small, artificial brook running down through the uneven hillside.  High above was a wide roof of thick netting, covering the entire jungle habitat.  It was a perfect, or near perfect, half-acre replica of an African rainforest.

All along the top of the walled perimeter, separated about every hundred feet, were all-weather, high-definition, motion-detecting cameras.  Collectively, they captured video of nearly every square foot of the enclosed habitat and recorded a live feed around the clock.  The data was then sent in digital form through the thick cable and back into the heart of the building, where it was fed into IMIS.

Alison peered through one of the giant walls of clear glass and spotted who she was looking for inside.  DeeAnn Draper, an older woman with dark hair and dressed in light khaki clothes, was squatting next to a young female gorilla.

Alison looked up at the nearest camera as it automatically zoomed in and focused on the two playing in the shade beneath one of the taller Rosewood trees.  As they played, every movement, facial expression, sound, or gesture, was recorded and broken into individual frames.  It was then saved to IMIS’s enormous data drives.

The data gathering was not all that different from how they had originally done it with Dirk and Sally.  Although, some differences required an overhaul of certain pieces of IMIS’s computer code, since communication with primates was significantly different than ocean mammals.  First and foremost was the sound.  Contrary to popular belief, gorillas were a very quiet species.  They used only a limited number of verbal sounds.  The vast majority of communication happened instead through gestures and complex facial expressions.  It presented very different requirements for capturing language.

DeeAnn was the real expert.  Even though Alison was in charge at the Center and of her dolphins, DeeAnn Draper was every bit her equal when it came to primate research and gorillas.   Alison loved having DeeAnn on the team.

Inside the habitat, DeeAnn sat next to Dulce, wearing a thin black vest over her khaki shirt.  The name Dulce was Spanish for ‘sweet’ and the small three-year-old gorilla fit her name perfectly.  With light brown eyes and dark, protruding lips, which constantly smiled, Dulce sat playfully on the ground pointing at DeeAnn.  She made a short chuckling sound and tilted her head.

Since the habitat was far too large to make traditional speakers practical, the speaker receiving the translation was much smaller and integrated directly into the special vest that DeeAnn wore.  Dulce’s words came out in the tone of IMIS’ mechanical voice.  I like play.

DeeAnn smiled, copying Dulce’s movement.  “I like play too.”  It took less than a second for IMIS to translate DeeAnn’s words into a similar sound for Dulce, which again emanated from the vest.

Dulce pursed her lips and grunted softly, waving her lanky arm over her head.  I want play chase.

When DeeAnn heard the translation, she smiled wearily.  “Again?”

Dulce nodded her head vigorously and spread her lips into a wide, toothy grin.  She could read the look in DeeAnn’s eyes as she tried to change the subject.

“Let’s play count.”

Dulce shook her body playfully and spoke again.  You silly.

DeeAnn smiled.  She wasn’t silly; she was tired.  It was almost one hundred degrees in the habitat.  She could only run around so much before Dulce would think she was playing dead.  “Let’s play count,” she repeated.  She held up her hand as the small speaker on her chest vibrated and spit out the gorilla version of the sentence.  Displaying four fingers, DeeAnn asked, “How many is this?”

Dulce’s grin turned into a wide smile, and she barely looked at DeeAnn’s hand before replying with a purr followed by low squeals.  Four.  Play chase now.

DeeAnn sighed and looked around, spotting Alison with relief, who was standing on the other side of the glass, watching them.  She pointed through the glass.  “Who’s that, Dulce?”

Dulce turned and followed DeeAnn’s finger.  Her excitement was immediate.  Alison!  Dulce sprang from her position and ran forward on her fists, covering the distance to the wall quickly.  She put her dark hand on the glass and patted it playfully.  That was how she greeted people on the other side.

Alison smiled back at Dulce and leaned forward, patting back against the glass.  She waited until DeeAnn and her vest had reached them before Alison replied.  “Good morning, Dulce.”

“Hey, Ali,” DeeAnn said.

“Morning.  Lee said you were looking for me.”

Before DeeAnn could reply, the speaker on her vest emitted a loud tone, signifying the last sentence was not translated successfully.  She instinctively pushed a small button, pausing the system.

“Yeah, I wanted to steal Kelly from you this afternoon to work on some more group translations with us.  Lee said he fixed part of yesterday’s problem, so I wanted to give it another try.”

“Sure,” Alison glanced at her watch.  “I think she’s going to feed Dirk and Sally in about thirty minutes or so.  I’ll send her over after that.”

“Thanks,” DeeAnn gave Alison a devious smile.  “You want to come in and do some laps with Dulce?”

Alison laughed.  “I would if I could, but I need to make sure everything is ready for Thursday.  It’s a big day,” she added, with a wink.

“Gotcha, have fun.”  DeeAnn waved and stepped back from the glass, pushing the button again on her vest.  She looked down at Dulce, who was smiling up at her.  “Okay, one more chase.”

***

Alison watched DeeAnn run away after Dulce, hopelessly outmatched.  She still marveled at what Lee and Juan had done, with help from IBM, of course.  The mobile unit was amazing, providing it stayed within wireless range of the IMIS system.  But as incredible as the vest was, it almost seemed trite compared to what Lee and Juan were working on now: an improved vest that was also waterproof.

5

Dulce sat on the ground, across from DeeAnn, studying the large board in front of her.  Her small brown legs bowed in front of her as she reached down with her thick fingers and spun the wooden dial on the board.  It was a game that DeeAnn had built to teach colors and shapes.

The oversized dial stopped turning above a large red triangle, which made Dulce clap her hands.  She loved the triangles.  Excitedly, Dulce stood up and swung her arm over the board.  She grasped her piece in her dark hands and moved it to the next red triangle spot.  She immediately raised her head and grinned happily from ear to ear.

“Very good, Dulce,” DeeAnn clapped along with her.

Still standing, Dulce examined the board again and then pointed at DeeAnn.

You turn you turn.  The words emanated from the built-in speaker on the vest.

DeeAnn laughed and leaned forward.  “I know.  I know.”  She reached down and brushed the dial with her hand.  When it landed on a black circle, Dulce suddenly stopped and shook her head.

Not good.

DeeAnn opened her mouth, pretending to be offended, causing Dulce to promptly begin laughing with another toothy grin.  When DeeAnn could no longer hold her smile in, Dulce jumped over the board and into her lap.

Dulce squealed and wrapped her arms around her.  Me love Mommy.

DeeAnn hugged her back and gently touched her forehead to Dulce’s.  “I love you too.”

Dulce was, of course, smart enough to understand she wasn’t human, but DeeAnn was the only mother figure Dulce had ever known.  Or at least remembered.

DeeAnn was already caring for Dulce when they traveled to Puerto Rico to join Alison and her team.  In fact, Dulce was just under a year and one-half old when DeeAnn had found her.  Now almost two years later, they were as close as ever.  It seemed as though Dulce had forgotten the terrible trauma before DeeAnn came along and had managed to become trusting again, as proven through her physical affection.  Most gorillas were much less affectionate, or downright dangerous, if they got too close.  But Dulce was different.  She was naturally strong for her size, but she also had a soft side which made her more human than DeeAnn had ever seen.

DeeAnn Draper would know.  She had spent several years working with the famed female gorilla Koko, in southern California, whose ability to learn sign language had made news around the world in the mid-1990s.  Koko was an exciting step forward when it came to communication between primates.  But if Koko was a step forward, then Dulce was a giant leap.

Sign language was an amazing accomplishment, but IMIS changed all that.  DeeAnn came to the research center to prove the Koko skeptics wrong.  Yet even after witnessing a real exchange between Alison and Sally, she never imagined that IMIS would ultimately be able to reinvent how she communicated with Dulce.

But it did.  It took several months, but when IMIS broke the language barrier, it did so in a big way.

DeeAnn let her go and watched Dulce scramble back to the other side of the board and point at the wooden pointer again.  Me turn me turn.

“I know,” she conceded.  “It’s your turn.”

***

Kelly Carlson arrived less than an hour later, carrying a large box containing several pounds of lettuce, celery, and kale, for Dulce’s lunch.  She punched her code into the console on the opposite wall and waited for the large glass door of the habitat to click open behind her.  She then backed up, pushing it open with her backside, and wiggled through, letting the door close hard behind her.

Of all the staff Alison had hired, Kelly was one of the most dynamic.  Attractive, with a slender figure and long blonde hair, Carlson was, among other things, a former scuba instructor, boat captain, private chef, and tour guide.  She’d grown up in the tropics of the Caribbean and unlike many people who eventually got island fever, she showed no signs of wanting to leave.  She was a sunshine addict and as sharp as a whip.

Kelly winked at DeeAnn as she approached and then turned to Dulce, who was already on her feet rocking back and forth excitedly.  She seized the top of the box and nearly tore it from Kelly’s hands by accident.

“Easy, honey.”  Kelly smiled and dropped the box gently onto the ground.  She watched Dulce tear into it, before turning to DeeAnn.  “Ali said you were ready to do some more group play.”

“Thanks, yes.  Maybe in thirty minutes?”

“Sure,” Kelly nodded.  “I’ll be back in a few.  I’ve got to check a few things on the boat.”

DeeAnn propped herself up onto her knees in the soft dirt, watching Dulce eat her lunch.  With a sudden, playful push, she forced Dulce’s small forty-pound frame off her feet, causing her to roll onto her hindquarters.  Behind her, DeeAnn quickly snuck a piece of celery from the box and took a bite.   Dulce pulled her own stalk from her mouth and stared back questioningly until she watched DeeAnn take another bite and make a funny face.  Dulce snorted at her and laughed.

***

Not far away, inside the lab, Lee was watching them on his monitor.  He and Juan had completed the diagnostics on the new vest and were now waiting for the data to finish uploading.

He wasn’t watching DeeAnn and Dulce live.  Instead Lee was studying previous video segments that IMIS had recorded.  But Lee had a problem.  A big one.

Along with the current video segment, the right side of his screen displayed a window with detailed system log information.  As he clicked on various log entries, the corresponding video and set of changing pixels would be highlighted, showing the area IMIS had zoomed in on while recording.

Lee put his hand over his mouth and tapped his cheek, struggling to understand what was causing the problem.  Some of the logs and video sequences appeared to be out of sync, and he couldn’t find a reason for it.  In other words, it was happening so infrequently that he was unable to predict it, let alone recreate it, which meant troubleshooting was extraordinarily difficult.  And if he couldn’t isolate the cause or at least a reliable pointer, he could not even begin to fix it.

Because of this, his anxiety was silently growing.  It was looking more and more likely that something was seriously wrong with the new computer code on IMIS.  Like the original system, IBM had helped program the code for the entire system, including the artificial intelligence based algorithms.  However, when they added the complication of studying a primate, in addition to dolphins, part of the system needed to be reprogrammed.

Primates were much more expressive and the vast majority of their communication happened on a much more subtle level.  Facial expressions alone were something IMIS never had to track with Dirk and Sally.  Dolphins simply didn’t have the myriad muscles in their faces as humans and primates did.  Instead, IMIS tracked everything else such as whistles, clicks, and even physical movements.  And even those took years to record and process. Yet in the end, from a technological standpoint, the original efforts to translate the dolphin language were in some ways simpler than primates.

But now all of the progress IMIS had made with Dulce was suspect, and Lee knew it.  If the accuracy was compromised, even as little as ten percentage points, it meant that many more words may be misinterpreted due to their cross-relationships.  Scientific methods were very strict, and, in this case, the size of the possible breach seemed to be growing.

Lee watched another red error scroll by in the log file and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head nervously.

6

The flight to Belem in Para, Brazil took five and a half hours.  The late day sun had just under two hours before its final descent behind the lush but distant mountains far to the west.

Founded in 1616 as the first European colony on the Amazon River, the multicolored buildings of Belem glowed brightly below as the jet banked to the right and prepared its approach.  From his seat, Clay gazed out across the dense, green tropical landscape, extending as far as he could see.  It was so lush it was almost glowing.  Somewhere in his memory, Clay remembered reading that the forests of South America were responsible for creating more than twenty percent of the world’s oxygen.  From the incredible view through his side window, he believed it.

The fourth largest continent by landmass, South America was home to some of the most exotic life and incredible features on the planet, including both the world’s largest rainforest and the tallest waterfall in the world. It was a vast and mystical place, remaining almost entirely unexplored until well into the early twentieth century.  Legends claimed that many of its hidden mysteries were still waiting to be discovered.  The one that Clay and Caesare had come to see was man-made.  Floating silently in the Val-de-Cães naval yard, it rested just several hundred feet below them.

The sub had been under heavy guard since being escorted into port, where the Russian crew was quickly isolated for questioning.  And according to Langford, they weren’t very talkative.

Next to Clay, Caesare’s snoring was interrupted by a loud snort as he startled himself awake.  Caesare blinked and rubbed his eyes with his hands, then remained still for a moment feeling the descent of the aircraft.  “Well, that was quick.”

Clay smirked, finally turning away from the window, and gathered his papers from the small table.  He stood the papers on end to straighten them before sliding them back into the folder, tucking the stack neatly into his pack.

With a yawn, Caesare leaned forward, letting the back of his leather seat follow him up into its upright position.  He glanced at his watch.  “Four-thirty.  We’d better hustle.”

“You know, this report doesn’t have much on the capture of this boat.”

“Yeah, I noticed that.”

“We don’t know who was involved, what was used, or whether there was any communication established.”

“Right,” Caesare answered.  “My guess is sonobuoys, but knowing whether they were active or passive would be a big help.”

“And whose buoys they were,” Clay added.

Caesare raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t think they were Brazilian?”

“I don’t know.  Brazil uses a lot of the older MADs.  The buoys could be theirs, but it also seems like our boats got here awfully fast.”

“As in…they were already here.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Either they were already here or they took a couple days to get here.  Which makes me wonder…”

Caesare finished his thought.  “How long did they know about the Russian sub?”

***

The summer heat and humidity enveloped both men the moment they exited the craft, making it feel as though they were sweating.  Together, they walked briskly across the hot tarmac, each pulling a suitcase behind him with a pack slung over an outside shoulder.

The airport was small by most U.S. standards, with an old metal-and-glass framed terminal building standing alone on the very far side of the tarmac.  As Clay and Caesare approached, a dark green Humvee suddenly rounded the corner of the building and sped toward them, almost skidding to a stop.

A young ensign jumped out and ran toward them with an apologetic look on his face.

“Commanders,” he said, addressing them in a thick Portuguese accent, “I’m very sorry to be late now.”  He stopped abruptly in front of them with an awkward expression, wondering if he was supposed to salute.  Caesare was closest and smiled at him, extending his hand.  Relieved, the ensign relaxed and shook Caesare’s hand first, then Clay’s.  “I am Ensign Costa.  I’ve been sent to accept you.  May I assist you with your bags?”

“Pleased to meet you, Ensign Costa,” Caesare smiled and shook his head.  “Nah, we’re fine.”

Costa nodded back and promptly turned to the car, trotting several steps ahead of them and opening the back tailgate.  The two men approached, tossing their bags and packs in without losing a beat.  Clay climbed into the front passenger seat and Caesare slid in behind him.  They were happy to find the air conditioning already on high.

Costa opened the driver’s door and reached in, handing each man a bottle of water.  Clay thanked him and Caesare whistled.  “Look at that.  It’s like we’re important.”

The ensign nodded and climbed in next to Clay.  He closed the door and immediately dropped the vehicle into drive.  “Your flight was good, yes?”  He turned them around, heading back past the old terminal.

“Fine, thank you,” Clay answered, peering out the windows.  The base looked older than he was expecting.  If not older, then certainly more run down.  Another jet was landing further away on another runway and looked to be a commercial flight.  The place was apparently still being used.  They bounced high in their seats as Costa crossed over a rough section of asphalt and out onto the main road.

“I’ll take you to the submarine first, yes?  Before the hotel.”

“How long has it been here?” Caesare asked, from the back seat.

“Uh…two days,” replied Costa, changing lanes.  He looked back through his rearview mirror.  “It is very secret.  You are the only Americans to come.”

“Why so secret?” Clay prodded.  He already knew the answer.  “What if people see it in the water?”

Costa grinned as they crested the top of a wide overpass, crossing above one of the wide tributaries feeding into the largest section of the Amazon River.  “Yes, people could see it very easy, and ask questions.  If it was still here.”

Clay glanced back over his shoulder to Caesare who raised his eyebrows curiously.  “So Costa,” he said, changing the subject.  “How long have you been in the Navy?”

“I am in the Navy nine years.  My father and grandfather were sailors too, both on battleships, and my great grandfather was a hero in the Revoltas da Armada.  We are...” he paused to think of the right phrase, “a military family.”

Clay nodded warmly.  “Your family must be proud of you.”

Costa nodded and almost chuckled.  “Yes, they are proud of their Enrique.”

***

The sub was not nearby.  It was now being held roughly thirty minutes north, up a smaller river, and tied up at a very old and seemingly abandoned cannery.  The place looked much worse than the base at which they’d just landed, and the rundown buildings along the cannery’s dock looked rusted through as if ready to fall down at any moment.

Costa drove over an old wooden bridge, which groaned as they passed over and was guarded by two armed soldiers.  Once on the other side, they came around past the dock and slowed near one of the last structures.  Here, Costa finally stopped the Humvee and pushed the transmission back into park.

As they climbed out, Caesare bumped Clay on the arm and motioned to the canopy of Brazil nut trees above them.  Dozens of the tall, dark green trees rose up well over a hundred feet with dense crowns of branches spreading out and surrounding both sides of the dock.  “Nice place for blocking satellite pictures.”

“Very convenient.”

They followed Costa down a crumbling concrete path between two buildings, opening up into a wide area where several military vehicles were parked.  Several soldiers in their Brazilian fatigues were milling around the Russian submarine, sitting motionless in the water.

When Clay and Caesare finally got a full view of the vessel, they stopped dead in their tracks.  Costa noticed their halt and turned with a quizzical expression.

Clay and Caesare looked at each other quietly.  After a long moment, Clay turned back to Costa.  “We need to make a phone call.”

7

Admiral Langford was at his desk when his secretary rang on a special phone line, prompting him to end his other call.

“Yes,” he answered, switching over.

“Sir, I have a call for you from John Clay.”

Langford glanced at his watch then leaned forward onto his wide desktop.  “Put him through.”  He waited for the familiar “click” in the line before speaking.  “Clay?”

“Hello, Admiral.”

“You and Caesare onsite?”

“Yes, sir, a bit north of Belem.  We’ve just arrived.”

“Good.  Do you have an ID on that November?”

“Well, sir,” Clay said, staring out at the submarine.  “It’s definitely a Soviet class, but it’s not nuclear…and it’s not a November.”

“Not a November?”

“No, sir.  It’s a Beluga class.”

Langford froze on the other end of the phone.  “Did you say Beluga?”

“That is correct, sir.  As in the Forel.”

“The Forel?!  Are you sure, Clay?”

Clay turned to Caesare, who was watching three men standing on top of the sub.  “I am.  And, sir, it’s painted blue.”

“Christ.”  Langford took a deep breath and leaned back into his chair.  “Listen to me, Clay, carefully.  I just got off a call with the State Department.  It seems the Brazilian government has decided it no longer wants our help.  They’re putting up obstacles left and right which means I don’t think I can get anyone else in there except you two.  More importantly, I think it’s just a matter of time before the higher ups realize you’ve arrived, escort you both back to the airport, and send you off with a couple of nice Brazilian tarp hats.”

Clay looked at Costa, patiently waiting about ten feet away.  “I see.”

“If that boat is the Forel,” continued Langford, “you’d better get a look at it fast, before whoever is in charge there gets a call.”

“Understood.”

Langford leaned forward again, gripping the receiver.  “There’s something about that sub they don’t want us to see.  So get aboard quick and get as much intel as you can!”

“Yes, sir.”  Clay abruptly hung up and lowered the satellite phone from his ear.  He folded down the bulky antennae and stuffed the unit back into his pack.  Standing back up, he took a casual step closer to Caesare and whispered.

“We’ve got to hurry.”

Caesare gave a knowing nod.  He then spoke loudly to Costa.  “All right, Ensign, we’re all set.  Show us the way.”

Costa smiled graciously and turned back toward the sub, motioning them to follow.

***

Unlike the Soviet November class nuclear submarines with their more compact but noisier power generators, the Beluga was very different.  It was a prototype diesel-electric, originally designed to test new propulsion technologies and hull properties.  However, the project was thought to have been scrapped in 2002.  The S-553 Forel was the only known Beluga class submarine built, and it hadn’t been seen since 1997.  Until now.

Langford sat silently in his chair, thinking.  So the Forel was still in operation.  But what for?  And what in the hell was it doing in Brazil?  He knew one thing for certain.  There was only one reason to paint a submarine blue: for hiding in shallow water.

***

Like all subs, the Forel’s interior was spotless and metal gray, yet Brazil’s warm, moist jungle air gave the compartments of the Russian sub a subtle dank smell.

Once aboard, Clay and Caesare quickly made their way aft.  They stopped and examined the giant diesel generators, taking several pictures.  The generators were modernized with a more compact design but after some inspection, nothing appeared unusual.  However, what did surprise them was what they found in the engine room.

Against the wall were two large metal racks filled with computer and audio equipment.  From the racks, very thick, black cables ran up the steel wall, branching off into dozens of slightly smaller cables.  They all spread around the engine room, terminating at the giant electric motor in the tail.

“What do you make of this?”  Clay stepped forward and curiously ran his fingers over the cables.  Caesare continued taking pictures behind him.

“Dunno.”  After taking pictures of the computer racks, Caesare flipped the tiny digital camera into video mode and proceeded to record.  He carefully turned and covered the entire room.

Clay turned back to the rack.  All modern subs were computer-controlled these days, but he’d never seen any with computers like these.  “Look at this,” he said to Caesare.

Caesare stepped in next to him and peered at the large devices on top.  “What are those, amplifiers?”

“I’m not sure.”

Suddenly they heard footsteps approaching quickly from a forward compartment, along the metal floor.  Caesare turned off the camera and dropped it into his pocket just moments before Costa appeared at the hatch.  His face bore a look of confused urgency.

“Commanders,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I am informed that you need to leave this submarine immediately.”

8

Will Borger was sitting in his office, studying his computer monitor, when the phone rang.  He didn’t acknowledge it at first as he scrolled down a window filled with complex computer code, examining it carefully.  After the phone’s third ring, he finally glanced at the number and opened his eyes wide.  He immediately reached out and picked up the receiver.  “Yes, sir.”

“Borger,” barked Langford’s voice, “I need you up here right away.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now!”

“Uh, yes, sir,” he repeated.  “I’ll be right there.”

Borger scrambled to hang up the phone then closed the window on the computer to save his work.  He grabbed his half-empty can of Jolt and finished it off before finally looking down and straightening his shirt.

He turned to leave.  As an afterthought, Borger reached back and grabbed his laptop, quickly unplugging its cables and tucking it under his arm.

Will Borger was what Admiral Langford liked to refer to as his secret weapon.  He worked in the Department of Naval Investigations with Clay and Caesare and was arguably the smartest geek in the Pentagon.  Even after Langford’s promotion, he kept a few “key” personnel reporting directly to him and Borger was one of them.

Although Borger was technically a contractor, it never made a difference to Langford.  Which was why, even being forty pounds overweight, Borger was now running for the Admiral’s office.

When he arrived, Langford’s secretary was waiting for him and opened the door.  Upon seeing him, Langford waved Borger in and motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Good, hold on.  I’ve got Borger here too.  Let me put you on speaker.”

Langford pushed a button on his phone set and replaced the receiver back on its cradle.  “You there?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Clay.

“Did you get on board the Forel?”

“Briefly, but you were right.  Someone got the word down fast.  We received a first class escort off the boat, but apparently we can’t leave yet as our plane requires some emergency maintenance.  I presume that was your doing.”

“It was,” grumbled Langford.  “We needed to buy you some time there, so our pilot found something important that needed fixing.  Where are you now?”

“We’re at a hotel.  They dropped us off with instructions to leave as soon as possible.”

Langford nodded.  “They want us out, but they’re certainly not going to risk ruffling feathers.  Did you get anything from the sub?”

“We did.”  Clay looked at Caesare, who was reviewing the video on the camera.  “It’s got a pretty advanced computer system on it, along with what looks to be some strange audio equipment.  The video is hi-def but trying to send it over the sat phone is going to take a while.  It might be easier to find a hotspot somewhere if we want to forego security.”

Langford looked up and across his desk at Borger, who shrugged.  “Doubtful anyone would be watching for it.”

“Okay, send it,” Langford followed.  “I want to find out what we’re looking at before you and Caesare are airborne.  Any idea what this is?”

“No, sir.  Not yet.”  Clay glanced at the video over Caesare’s shoulder.  “How much longer can we keep our plane grounded?”

Langford frowned and shook his head.  “Not long.  They’re pushing hard.  We probably have about twelve hours before they get rude about it.  The Brazilians have clearly decided there’s something on that sub they can benefit from, and I’m assuming it has to do with the equipment you found.”

“Agreed,” replied Clay.  “Will, we’ll send the files over for you to take a look at.  In the meantime, Steve and I will try to find out more.”

“Alright.  Keep me posted.”  With that, he ended the call.  Langford sat staring at the phone.  This was feeling damn peculiar.  That sub obviously had something the Brazilian government wanted badly.  But what was it?  Normally he wouldn’t have been all that concerned.  Countries were always coming up with new prototype ideas but most never made it even close to production.  In this case, there were two facts about the Forel that bothered him.  One was its mysterious rise from the dead.  The other was that, even with their best sonobuoys, this particular sub had been damn hard to find.

***

Their hotel was located on the colonial side of the city and was one of the oldest in Belem.  With its traditional blue tiles, it looked more like a historic building than a hotel.  And judging from a few patches of peeling paint and old furniture, it seemed that their complimentary bottle of water in the Humvee had been the peak of their special treatment.

Costa had dropped them off with another round of apologies.  It was obvious he had no idea why Clay and Caesare were being evicted.   Even though he was following orders, one trait that most citizens of South American countries all shared, even the soldiers, was a healthy skepticism of their governments.

When he dropped them off, Costa mentioned that his cousin worked at the hotel’s reception desk should they need anything.  And if she was like most people in a country with a struggling economy, she was no doubt just as helpful.

Shortly after hanging up with Langford, the men made their way downstairs to find Costa’s cousin, Mariana.  They spotted her across the tiled lobby, standing behind the long, faded reception counter and typing on a computer probably half her age.

Caesare approached and gave her his award-winning smile.  “Olá, Mariana.”  She smiled back warmly.

“Olá,” she replied in a light Portuguese accent.  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Caesare leaned casually on the counter.  “Enrique said you might be able to help us with something.”  With that, he withdrew a hundred dollar bill and placed it in front of her.

Mariana stared at him for a moment as her expression turned dubious.  “What exactly are you looking for?”

Clay peeked around from behind his friend and laughed, watching Caesare realize the girl had misunderstood his request.  Caesare shook his head, embarrassed.  “No, no.”  He turned and shot Clay a sarcastic frown, only to find him still grinning.

“That’s not what I meant.  I’m wondering if you know someone who can rent us some scuba equipment.”

Mariana smiled again, relieved.  “Oh, yes, you would like to go on a boat?  I have someone pick you up in the morning.”

“Actually, we don’t need a boat, just the tanks.  And we were hoping to go out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Caesare whispered and motioned back to Clay.  “What can I tell you…my friend’s a little weird.”

Mariana glanced at Clay and thought a moment.  “Um, yes, I know someone.  I will call him.  He is to meet you here?”

“That’d be swell.”

Mariana picked up her phone, but Clay stepped forward before she could dial and laid another bill on the counter.  “One other thing.  We need an internet connection.”

“We have one here, senhor,”.

“Better yet,” Clay replied, lowering his voice, “is there another hotel and internet connection nearby?  Perhaps one you know the password to?”

***

After transferring the files to Borger, Clay and Caesare returned to the hotel.  Mariana was waiting in the lobby with a young man who looked a few years older than she.

“Misters,” she started, when spotting them, “this is my brother, Lucas.  He is come with your scubas.”

Caesare smiled and shook the young man’s hand, as did Clay.  Lucas nodded toward the door and led them out and around the side of the building.  Another young man was waiting next to a darkly painted car, smoking a cigarette.  As they approached, he tossed it to the ground and walked to the back of the car, opening the trunk.

They rounded the rear of the Chevy Malibu, which looked older than it probably was, and peered into the trunk.  Inside were two scuba units, complete with buoyancy control devices or BCDs, regulators, and tanks.  Clay and Caesare looked at each other, amused when they saw the words “Hilton Belem” painted on the side of each tank.

The large mesh bag next to the rest of the gear held snorkels, masks, fins, and two dive lights.

“Did you bring suits?”

“Yes,” nodded Lucas.  He reached under one of the tanks and pulled out a fold of neoprene to show them.  When Lucas straightened back up, he gave them a slight grin.  “My sister says you’re swimming tonight?”

Caesare frowned sarcastically.  “Why would you think that?”

Lucas’ grin turned into a smile as he reached up and quietly closed the trunk.  “You must be here about the submarine, yes?”

Caesare retrieved his wallet and opened it.  “You know about the submarine?”

“I know about many things.”

“I bet.”  Caesare counted out the rest of the money before looking to Clay with raised eyebrows.  “How much you got?”

Clay reached for his own wallet and motioned to the Chevy.  “We need the car, too.”

***

With some extra direction from Lucas, they managed to find the old dirt road that put them just over a quarter mile past the Forel’s location.  Caesare’s shorter, more muscular frame stretched his wetsuit to the limit and made Clay chuckle, never having seen a wetsuit without any creases in it.  Yet, Clay’s was only slightly better, being more than two sizes too large.

After locating a footpath toward the beach, it took them nearly forty-five minutes to reach the water and start swimming south.  Progress was slow to avoid making any unnecessary ripples or noises in the water.  Once they reached the crumbling walls of the old channel, they floated inward, now barely moving their fins behind them.

Several vehicles were still parked along the dock, sitting idly in the darkness.  The rest of the men they had seen earlier appeared to be gone, save for some soldiers guarding the bridge on the far side of the Forel.

Clay, slightly in front, put his hand up and signaled to stop.  Together they floated motionlessly for a few minutes, listening.  Nothing.

They continued forward, closing in on the top of the Forel’s giant vertical tailplane.

When they were within a hundred yards, Clay nodded to Caesare a few feet away and inserted his black regulator into his mouth.  He gave a thumbs up before donning his mask and releasing some of the air out of his vest, causing him to sink gradually below the surface.

Once well below the surface, they both turned on their modified dive lights.  The red colored T-shirt they had torn up and banded over the top of each light presented a subtle glow as they reached the hull.

What they found was puzzling.  Small depressions in the metal ringed the rear of the hull, just above the propeller.  The rings were successive and traveled consistently down the hull to the base of the lower stern plane, where they ended.  Inside the holes appeared to be a thick, metal mesh painted the same color as the sub.  The indentations were large but very subtle and probably impossible to spot unless within inches of the hull.

Clay made a rough measurement of the depressions with his fingers and pushed himself back to get a closer look at the prop.  Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

After several minutes, Caesare joined him and shook his head from side to side, motioning that he hadn’t found anything else further up.  Clay nodded and pointed back the way they came.  Together, both men descended further and proceeded to head back out toward the sea.

At 6:31 a.m., when the bright orange sunrise broke over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean, Clay, Caesare, and their Gulfstream jet were gone.

9

Alison was excited and propped herself on the edge of the giant tank and let her legs dangle into the warm water.  She adjusted the thick weight belt around her waist for comfort before looking up over her shoulder.

Lee and Juan stood over her, each holding one side of the vest.  When Alison nodded, they both lowered it so she could wrap her arms through the wide straps.  Once in place, Alison moved her shoulders from side to side to make sure it was comfortable enough.

She nodded and then both men hoisted the scuba gear off the ground and held it lightly against her back, allowing her to wiggle her arms through the second set of straps.  Lee and Juan had measured the dimensions of the scuba vest and designed their own vest to hug her below the BCD.  It was a perfect fit.

Alison brought the Velcro sides of the BCD in tight and overlapped one on top of the other, creating a snug fit.  She could feel the weight of the tanks pulling her back and leaned forward to compensate.

The yellow scuba shell on her back was a CCR, or “closed circuit rebreather.”  Unlike the older, traditional scuba systems, modern rebreathers had some distinct advantages.  Old scuba systems were “open circuit’” and disposed of the air the diver breathed out by blowing it out from the mouthpiece and into the water in the form of bubbles.  It was a very inefficient process since exhaled air still retained a large percentage of valuable oxygen.  That oxygen was then discarded, along with the carbon dioxide as bubbles, and the remaining air in the tank determined the amount of time a diver could remain underwater.  Rebreathers, however, captured that exhaled air and removed the carbon dioxide, allowing the system to reuse the valuable oxygen instead of wasting it.  This radically prolonged the diver’s time underwater.  On top of that, the efficiency grew even more dramatic as the diver descended and the pressure grew.  Just as importantly, rebreathers were virtually silent, which made the translation process easier.

Alison shifted slightly under the weight of the unit. She grabbed the full-face mask and held it briefly in place, testing the airflow.

She nodded and looked up to Lee.  “I’ve got air.”

He knelt down next to her.  “Remember, we’re only staying down for a few minutes this first time to test the unit and the wireless connection to the server.”  He took her mask and turned it around, pointing to a small rubber circle at the bottom.  “This is the microphone and camera, so you must be facing them when you speak or IMIS won’t be able to capture and translate correctly.”  He motioned to her vest.  “And I showed you where the speaker is, right here in the middle.”

“Right.”  Alison tapped the round speaker on the vest.

Juan handed the special earplugs to Lee, who passed them to Alison.  After she had inserted both, Lee brought the mask to his lips and spoke softly into its microphone.  “Can you hear me?”

Alison nodded.

He couldn’t help but smile at her petite frame under all that equipment.

Alison looked at the water in front of her and smiled, spotting both Dirk and Sally with their heads above the surface, watching.

“Does everything feel okay?” Lee asked.

Alison nodded again.  She pulled the mask up and over the top of her thick hair and fitted it in place.

She peered down through the water.  “Can you hear me, Chris?”

Chris was below in their observation area, standing in front of the tank and next to a large server.  “Yes,” he replied through his headset.  “I read you loud and clear.”

“Okay.  Here I go.”  She gave Lee and Juan a thumbs up and abruptly pushed forward off the ledge.

The warm salt water enveloped her as she sank below the surface, pulled gently down by her weight belt.  Dirk and Sally dipped back down below the surface and swam after her as she descended.  They slowly circled her, watching intently as she calmly pressed the small button on her scuba vest and added a touch of air to increase her buoyancy.  She kicked her fins slowly to keep herself in place.

Alison peered in at Sally through the glass mask.  “Hello, Sally.”  Inside her waterproof vest, the miniature computer recorded the sound from her mask and sent it back to IMIS over a wireless connection.  Seconds later, she could hear her own greeting through the speaker as a familiar set of clicks.

Sally didn’t respond immediately.  Instead, she drifted in for a closer look at Alison and her vest.  After getting within just inches, she excitedly shot past and around Alison in a tight circle.  Hello Alison.

Alison heard her perfectly through the earplugs and grinned.  She kicked forward and reached out, running a hand along Sally’s slick body.  She then turned to Dirk.

“Hello, Dirk.”

Dirk was equally excited.  Alison, you swim and talk.

“Yes.  I can swim and talk with you now.”  She looked down through the clear wall and waved to Chris.  He smiled and waved back.

Dirk spoke again.  You make metal for swim and talk.

Alison shrugged.  “Lee and Juan made the metal for us to swim and talk.”

They make good, Dirk answered.

They sure did, she thought to herself.  She looked up and around the tank, raising her arms and letting her body float in place.  She could see the rough, wavy images of Lee and Juan above them, still standing at the edge and staring down into the water.   She turned back to Dirk just in time to see him speak and rush below her.  We play now.

Alison had just begun to reply when she suddenly felt Dirk’s nose underneath her, lifting and pushing her forward along with him.

“Whoa!” Alison gasped and tried to steady herself against the powerful surge of water.  Dirk effortlessly began to circle the tank, but Alison leaned and rolled herself to one side and off his nose.  “No, no, Dirk!”  She almost chuckled.  “I’m not a ball!”

Dirk made a strange sound, which Alison knew well, but never translated.  He was laughing.

Very funny, she thought and kicked her legs hard, propelling herself toward Sally, who was watching quietly.

Dirk like play, Sally said, as Alison neared.

“Yes, he does.”

Alison, you like us.

This time Alison did chuckle.  “Well, for a little while.”  She began to say something else when she heard the familiar buzzer in her ear, signifying that something did not translate correctly.  She turned to find Dirk closing his mouth, having just spoken.  She realized the camera in her mask had not been facing him.

“Did you say something, Dirk?”

Yes, we like you swim and talk.  Dirk floated forward again, this time more slowly, and held out one of his flippers.  Alison reached down and gave it a playful tug before he kicked forward with his powerful tail and circled under her.

You come now, Sally said.

Alison knew that was a question.  “Not yet, we must test the metal more.”  The buzzer went off again in her ears.  “We use metal more,” she rephrased.

How more long use metal.

“Just a few more days.”

10

It was a huge success!  The new system worked, and it worked well.  Lee and Juan huddled around the custom vest, running diagnostics to see if there were any problems.  The unit’s processor in the waterproof compartment didn’t have enough power to do faster live translation, but it had no problem offloading that piece to the IMIS supercomputer.

The diagnostics looked clean.  No glitches, no wireless drops, no sign of voltage issues or leaks.  It was better than they had hoped for.  But it didn’t mean those problems wouldn’t happen.  They still had a few more days of testing before they could do what everyone was so eagerly waiting for: to take the vest out into the open ocean.

***

Downstairs, Alison and Chris stood in front of the tank, grinning from ear to ear.  It was a marine biologist’s dream come true.  To really communicate with another species was incredible enough.  Now to be able to do it “out there,” in their native habitat, was a huge leap in oceanography research.  They couldn’t imagine what they were going to learn outside of the tank.

They stood in a daze, gleefully watching Dirk and Sally being fed by Kelly up above, when someone spoke up behind them.  “Are we too late for the big event?”

Alison recognized the voice immediately and turned breathlessly with a grin that managed to get even wider.

John Clay was standing behind her, along with Steve Caesare.  Clay was smiling back at her.

“I thought you were in Brazil?”

Clay gave her a hug.  “We left early, and Borger is working on something at the moment.”  He glanced at his watch regretfully.  “We’re due back in D.C. in five hours.”

Alison tried to hide her disappointment.  “Well, I’m glad you made a stopover.”

“It’s the least I could do.”  Clay squeezed her tight and looked up over her shoulder.  “Hi, Chris.”

“Hello, John.  How are you?”

“A little tired, but good, thank you.”

Chris was closest to Caesare and he reached out a hand to him.  “Mr. Caesare. It’s nice to see you again.”

Caesare shook Chris’ hand and almost scoffed.  “Come on Chris, I’m not that old yet.”  He winked.  “Clay makes me seem older.”

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”  They all turned to see DeeAnn looking at Caesare as she entered the room.  She had met him several times before.  The two had instantly fallen into a friendly but rather sarcastic relationship.  “How did we get so lucky?”

Caesare raised an eyebrow at her.  “Ah, Dr. Draper.  What a pleasure.  You’re looking…older.”

After what seemed like a long moment, they smiled at each other playfully and laughed.  DeeAnn flicked his thick, muscular arm as she passed.  She turned warmly to Clay.  “Nice to see you again, John.”

“Good morning, DeeAnn,” Clay said.  “How are things going with Dulce?”

“We’re making excellent progress, thank you.  In fact, the translations are coming faster and faster.  Your girl here,” she said, with a wink at Alison, “runs quite a ship.”

Clay didn’t see the nervous look Alison gave DeeAnn after being referred to as John’s “girl.”

“So,” Clay said.  “I take it the test went well, judging by the look on everyone’s face.”

“It was flawless,” Alison beamed.  “Lee and Juan are upstairs checking things out.  It was only for about five minutes, but it worked perfectly.”

“I’m not surprised,” Clay nodded.  “I guess that means it’s a “go” for your big trip.”

“Hopefully.  We still have more testing to do, but assuming we don’t have any major problems, we’re set to leave in a few days.  So cross your fingers.  I think Dirk and Sally are getting impatient.”

“This is very cool, Alison,” Caesare said, folding his arms.  “Translation out in open water is exciting stuff.”  He flashed her a devilish grin.  “Come to think of it, maybe you could use some help from a couple old ‘sea dogs.’”

Clay laughed.  He could imagine Langford’s reaction.

Caesare held up a hand in an innocent gesture.  “Hey, let’s not forget Alison’s got some pull with the Admiral.”

Alison remained close to Clay, smiling, but said nothing.  It was true, she still had a few favors to call in, but that wasn’t something you did lightly with Admiral Langford.  No, she was saving her favors for a very rainy day.  Not one involving Caesare lounging around on her boat and soaking up the sun with a beer in his hand.  She liked Steve Caesare a lot.  He was both tough and smart, but from what she’d heard, parties had a habit of finding him.

She turned and looked up at Clay.  “So, how much time do you have before you have to leave for D.C.?”

“Probably a couple of hours.”

Caesare watched her frown with a look of mild disappointment.  He rolled his eyes.  “Oh, for crying out loud.  Why don’t you two get out of here?  I’ll hang out with my pal DeeAnn.”  He gave her a wink.  “Besides, I want to have a look at this new portable unit the boys have created.”

Clay looked down at her with raised eyebrows.  “What do you say to an early lunch?”

“I would love that.”

“Just make sure you have him back on time.”

Clay nodded to Caesare, waved to the others, and grabbed Alison’s hand.  “I’m all yours.”

Wasting no time, they headed for the outside door.  She flung it open and pulled him outside into the bright sunshine.  She paused for a few moments, letting the large metal door close behind them with a loud “click.”  Before Clay could say anything, Alison pulled him close and kissed him.

11

Caesare followed DeeAnn back through the hallway to the habitat.  She punched her code in and pushed the door open, then held it a moment for Caesare.  As the two stepped up onto a gentle mound, they spotted Dulce sitting on the ground, playing with a large wooden game board.  She promptly looked up and stared at Caesare.

“There’s my girl!” he called out.

Ecstatic, Dulce jumped up and covered the distance quickly, leaping into his big arms.

Caesare hugged her, then reached up and gently rubbed her head.  “How’s my sweetheart?”

Steve here, Steve here, Dulce said, the words coming from DeeAnn’s computerized vest.  Me miss you.

He matched her wide smile.  “And I missed you.”  He hugged her again and then leaned back and stared at the adorable gorilla in his arms.  “You want to race?”

***

An hour later, Caesare was staring down at Lee and Juan’s new toy, lying on the table.  “That’s pretty impressive, fellas.”

“Thanks,” Lee replied.  “We got a little help with production, but the design is pretty close to what we drew up.  The board is under here.”  He touched an outside section of the vest’s material.  “There’s obviously some processing needed locally but we tried to keep it to a minimum, pushing the rest to IMIS for translation.  Unfortunately, even with the barest operating system, and a load of flash memory, it still sucks up a lot of energy.  Especially with the constant, high-speed wireless connection.”  Lee reached down and peeled the thick rubber seal away, releasing the plastic door to the battery compartment.  “Less than five minutes underwater still used up quite a bit of power.  Which means usage is going to be limited in open water.”

Caesare nodded and looked curiously at the large rectangular battery.  He fingered it and gently pulled it out of its socket.  “This lithium?”

“Yep.”

Caesare turned it over, noting the connection points.  “You know, the Navy’s got a team working on a new battery prototype for some drones.  They’re using a special nickel coated polymer which gives them a much higher storage density.  I may be able to get you a few.”

“Really?”  Lee and Juan looked at each other excitedly.

“Really.  They even have one that’s a similar size.  I might be able to get some overnighted.  You may just have time to work it in before the trip.”

“That would be amazing!”

Caesare shrugged.  “Don’t mention it.  As a matter of fact, if you print up the schematics for your board and the processor, including the frequency you’re using, Clay and I can take a look and see if there are any other areas where we can help reduce electrical draw.  Our Electronics and Signaling group back in D.C. does this all the time. Between some frequency modifications and the prototype batteries, I bet you could increase your operating time quite a bit.”

“That would be fantastic.”  Lee turned back to Juan, who was already at the computer looking for the schematics.

“So, I presume you guys are taking a server when you go out, to handle the translation.”

“Three, as a matter of fact,” Lee said.  “IMIS does the heavy lifting, but we can offload the basics onto some smaller servers.  Very much like we did last year on the Pathfinder with Mr. Clay.  Of course, the vocabulary is more advanced now and we have the wireless bit.”

“And a more reliable boat,” Caesare teased.

Lee laughed.  “Yes, definitely a more reliable boat.”

“Cool, I’m looking forward to hearing how things go.  This is pretty exciting.”

“Oh, yeah, very!  It’s too bad you can’t come with us.”

Caesare smiled, thinking of his joke earlier to Alison.  “Unfortunately we’re in the middle of something.”  He reinserted the battery and laid the corner of the vest back down, now thinking of the Forel sub and the reason they had to get back.  He hoped Borger had a little insight into the data they had sent him from Belem.

He was about to find out that Borger had much more than that.

12

Clay stared through the side window and watched the Mercedita runway fall away as they climbed over the south end of the island, banking to the left.  The late sun reflected brightly over the crystal blue Caribbean water, and Clay gazed down wistfully at the dozens of sailboats below them.

He’d loved the ocean since the first day his father took him out on the boat.  It was just a small daysailer, but he loved every minute of it.  From then on, it was something they did religiously, every time he visited his father in Florida.  Ultimately, it was that very same relationship with the ocean behind his enlistment in the Navy.  Now he looked forward to the day he could cast off for good, traveling the globe through the blue water with nothing but a sturdy boat, stars in the sky…and of course, a woman to share it with.

Clay leaned his head back and thought of Alison, letting his lips crack into a smile.  She seemed as happy to see him as he was to see her.  After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and reached down for his pack on the floor.

Caesare sat across from him, studying the schematics Juan had printed out.  He noticed Clay pull a shiny object from his bag.  Caesare glanced up to see a small silver brick, reflecting brightly from the incoming sunlight.  It was about the size of a deck of cards and Clay sat gazing at it curiously.

“You still carrying that souvenir around with you?”

Clay didn’t look up.  He simply nodded and flipped it over, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Any idea how it works yet?”

“Not exactly.”

He’d had the device for over a year, since a harrowing event which nearly ended in a global catastrophe.  In the end, few people knew what really happened.  That was the way it always was when the government was involved.

Clay turned the object over again in his hand.  “Borger and I put it under an electron microscope but couldn’t determine what it was made from.  It’s plated in silicon and its core is deuterium.  But the rest is made out of elements that we can’t identify.”

“Well, you already know it’s a fusion device,” replied Caesare.  “Maybe you’re not supposed to know how it works.”

Clay looked up at Caesare thoughtfully.  “Then why would he let me keep it?”

“Clearly, it was to drive you insane.”

Clay smirked.  “Clearly.”

Caesare watched Clay quietly examine the object.  They had worked together for over twenty years, beginning with their service as Navy SEALs.  Eventually moving out into Investigations once their aging bodies began to object to the constant physical punishment.  There were also the questionable missions that the teams were increasingly instructed to carry out, which ultimately left some of the SEALs wondering just which side of the fight they were really on.

Caesare had seen his friend in a number of binds, even some in combat.  He’d come to know the man inside and out.  Through it all, he had learned one unswerving fact about John Clay; the man never gave up.  No matter what the predicament, Clay’s mind simply never stopped working.  He would continue studying that silver object, chipping away at logic until he figured something out.  The question really was just how long it was going to take.

He mused and gave Clay a minute before changing the subject.  “So listen, I’ve been looking at the design of that new vest Alison’s team developed.  It’s pretty impressive.  Tighter than I was expecting.”

“Yeah, IBM helped them with it.”

“There are a few things we can help them with too, particularly around the wireless.  There are better frequencies they could be using, but it would probably mean testing another prototype.”  He reached out and handed the sheet to Clay.

Clay reluctantly dropped the silver block back into his bag and studied the sheet, holding it up to the window for a better look.  “You know, with a thicker design, I bet they could make this thing self-contained.”

***

Will Borger stole a look at his watch and looked back to the screen.  He wasn’t going to make it.

The program he’d written was still crunching through the data, and the meeting with Admiral Langford was in fifteen minutes.  In fact, the job was barely halfway done.

Behind him, his office in the Pentagon’s basement was crowded with enough computer and signaling equipment to put the displays at the Smithsonian to shame.  To him, technology wasn’t just a job, it was an obsession, and Langford was happy to oblige him.  Especially lately.

Borger jumped when the door opened behind him and the overhead lights suddenly came on.

“You really need to get an office with some sunlight,” Caesare announced.  “We all need a little vitamin D once in a while.”

Borger swiveled in his chair, arms still folded over his stomach, which was protruding a bit from under his loud, orange Hawaiian shirt.  “I take pills for that.”

Caesare raised his eyebrows.  “Really?”

“No, but I should.”  Borger looked to Clay, who had just closed the door behind them.  “Hey, Clay.  How was Brazil?”

“Who ever said getting thrown out of a country wasn’t exciting?  How goes it, Will?”

“Pretty good.”  Borger swung back toward his monitor.  “Langford asked me to do something for him, but it won’t be done for quite a while yet.”

Caesare sat backwards in a small metal chair and rolled it up next to Borger.  “What do we have here?”

“A deep scan of the North Atlantic, pixel by pixel.”

Clay and Caesare both raised their eyebrows curiously.  “Pixel by pixel?”

“Just about.  I got the last three months’ worth of data from the NSA, recorded by the ARGUS reconnaissance satellite.”  Both Clay and Caesare were familiar with the government’s newest bird.  They were also both familiar with the term reconnaissance when referring to a satellite.  It was the preferred term over the more accurate label “spy satellite.”  The ARGUS had recently been launched under the generic name of ‘NROL-39’ and was the first with real-time capability.  All other previous spy satellites had the ability to take increasingly sharper pictures and at frame speeds faster than video.  However, what they still lacked was bandwidth and the ability to send their ultra-high definition pictures back to Earth quickly enough for a real-time experience.

That limitation had finally been rectified in ARGUS.  With most of the new system’s design focused squarely on transmission capacity, the ARGUS was literally able to stream live, ultra-high definition video back to Earth, where it was recorded twenty-four hours a day.  And all with a field of view that was unprecedented.  It was a huge technological advance for a “reconnaissance” satellite and a capability that few countries, including allies, were even aware of.

Nevertheless, a pixel-by-pixel scan was an enormous undertaking.  It was the digital equivalent of examining every grain of sand on a given beach.

Caesare leaned in closer to Borger’s monitor.  “What on earth would you need three months of pixel data for?”

“For the Forel,” Clay murmured, peering over Caesare’s shoulder.

“That’s right.”  Borger began typing on his computer again and brought up another window.  He then used his mouse to drag the new window onto a second monitor.  With a few clicks, the new window instantly filled with a blue frame of the Atlantic Ocean, detailed enough to easily make out several small white caps on top of one of the swells.

Clay and Caesare could see the computer making a thin white line as it zoomed horizontally across the image, one tiny pixel at a time.  It finished scanning the frame in less than five seconds and started another.  “How far along is it?”

“Maybe halfway.”

“You must be looking for a periscope,” Caesare said.

“Or the exhaust.”

“Correct again.  It’s a long way from Russia to Brazil, especially for a diesel-electric, which means they would have had to surface many times to expel their stale exhaust and recharge their batteries.  I’ve got almost a thousand servers backtracking through images for a three hundred square mile area, looking in both visible and infrared.”

“Find anything yet?”

“Nope.”  Borger frowned and shook his head from side to side.  He swiveled his chair back to them and smiled.  “But that’s the bad news.”

“There’s good news?”

“The good news is I think I know what that equipment is for aboard the Forel.”  He moved to yet another screen and brought up the video that Caesare had taken before they were thrown off the sub.  Borger played the video until Caesare’s camera focused on the rack of equipment.  He froze the image.  “I spent some time going over this with several engineers in Pensacola, and we all agree that these devices are indeed amplifiers.  And you see this?”  He pointed to the bottom edge of the screen.  “These appear to be power cables.  These other cables,” he traced up the side of the still picture, “carry the audio.”

“Audio for what?”

“Ah…” Borger clasped his hands.  “That’s the million dollar question.”

Caesare smirked.  “Something tells me you have a million dollar answer.”

“Why, yes, I do.”  He paused, staring at them but saying nothing.

“And what is it?”

Borger grinned and held his hands up for dramatic effect.  “Active Noise Control!”

Both Clay and Caesare sat motionlessly.  Not because they didn’t understand; they did.  Instead, they remained quiet, considering the possibilities.

Clay looked back at Borger’s screen and mumbled, almost to himself, “Noise cancellation.”

“Bingo!”

Borger leaned back in his chair.  “Navies have been trying to perfect ANC in their subs for years, but so far it’s been unattainable.  If you ask me, I think they’ve found a way to do it with the Forel: not just reduce their noise but eliminate it altogether.”

“Wow.  Does Langford know about this yet?”

Borger shook his head again.  “Not yet.”

Clay remained quiet, thinking.  Borger’s assessment suddenly raised a number of other questions.  Finally, he turned his wrist and checked his watch.  “It’s time.”

13

To their surprise, Admiral Langford and Stan Griffith, the National Security Advisor, were already waiting in the conference room when Clay, Caesare, and Borger arrived.  Langford broke off his conversation and motioned the three inside to the chairs on the other side of the wide table.  The new Secretary of State, Douglas Bartman entered and closed the door just moments behind them.

“Gentlemen,” Langford began, “I’d like you to meet John Clay, Steve Caesare, and Will Borger.  They came with me from Investigations.”  Silent nods were exchanged while Langford continued.  “Clay and Caesare were onsite to examine the Forel.  Mr. Borger is our computer expert, trying to figure out exactly what we’re looking at here.  Clay, want to start us off?”

“Yes, sir,” Clay spoke up.  He quickly recounted their trip to Belem and time aboard the Forel submarine, leading to their abrupt expulsion.  He also described their dive beneath the sub in the middle of the night, including what they saw around its tail section.

“Okay, Will, you have the data they sent.  Any idea what we’re looking at here?”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Borger.  “It looks like we may be looking at an operational Active Noise Control system.”

“What?”

“ANC, sir,” repeated Borger.  “It’s only a guess without being able to put my hands on it, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it is.”

“I’ll be damned.”

Bartman looked back and forth between them.  “What’s Active Noise Control?”

“Noise cancellation,” answered Langford.  “A way to render a submarine silent underwater.  No wonder the Forel was so damn hard to find.”

Borger continued.  “From what Clay and Caesare described, there are sensor and actuator rings around the entire tail section, which mimics some of the test designs other countries have tried, including our own.”

“So it’s completely silent?” asked Bartman.

“Well, not completely, but very close.”

Bartman pondered the Admiral’s reply.  “But we still don’t know what the Russians were after.”

“Correct, but we now know what Brazil’s government is after.  And why we got kicked off the sub so fast.  My guess is that this is a working prototype of the technology used in Russia’s new stealth submarines.  And I think the Brazilian Navy may have just realized the same thing.”  Langford turned to Borger.  “Anything on our other project?”

“The image scans?  No, sir.  Not yet.”

“Sir,” Clay spoke up.  “Have the Russian’s asked for their crew back yet?”

They all looked to Bartman, who shook his head.  “No, no communication yet.”

“That’s peculiar.”

“Very,” agreed Langford.

“Sir,” Clay continued.  “The initial report we received on the Forel was lacking a few details.  For example, information on the actual capture itself.  Was there a reason for that?”

Langford looked at Stan Griffith, who in turn exchanged a knowing expression with Bartman before speaking.  “What would you like to know, Commander?”

It seemed the omission from the report was intentional.  “Who exactly located the Forel?” Clay asked.

“The Brazilian Government.  We don’t know who exactly.”

“They knew where it was?”

“Yes.”

Clay frowned, confused.  “Brazil has five submarines, all much closer than we are.  If they already knew where the Forel was, why did they need our help with the capture?”

“It was a favor,” Griffith sighed and continued looking at Clay.  “The relationship between the United States and Brazil has been slowly eroding for some time.  As a major emerging market, they have voiced their displeasure over a number of recent political and economic decisions of ours, which has put our relationship on delicate footing.”  He shrugged.  “It was a simple political favor, nothing more.”

“So we kept quiet to give Brazil credit over the Forel’s capture,” stated Caesare matter-of-factly.

“Something like that.”

“And to avoid souring our relationship with the Russians at the same time.”

Griffith reluctantly nodded.

“Except we didn’t know what was on it,” Clay picked up where Caesare left off.  “The Admiral indicated that it was harder than usual to locate the Forel.  Exactly how hard was it?”

“Four attempts.”

Clay and Caesare were both surprised.  “Four attempts?  Even after Brazil told us where to look?”

“That’s right.”

“So, it took four sonobuoys to find it?”

“That must be some damn effective noise cancellation,” Caesare mused.

Clay turned back to Griffith and Bartman, asking the question that everyone was now thinking.  “So, if it took us four tries to find that sub, and our sonobuoys are better than the MADs that Brazil uses…do we actually know how Brazil knew about the Forel?”

After a long pause, Bartman shook his head.  “We thought it better not to ask.”

The expression on Langford’s face told Clay that something in that discussion was a surprise, even to him.  But the look was only momentary.  “Okay,” Langford began, “so we have what appears to be a prototype of a new Russian technology.  Their crew is obviously well-trained on it, and Russia still hasn’t made a sound.”  He shot Bartman a subtle but dubious glance.  “So either they’re afraid to say something, or they’ve already quietly spoken to the Brazilian government.  And if that’s true, it means the Russian crew may be about to disappear on a first-class flight home.”  He looked at the others.  “Any other possibilities?”

Clay was chewing absent-mindedly on his lip when he looked up.  “Well, there is one other possibility, sir.  The simplest and most obvious.”  He shrugged at Langford.  “What if the Russians don’t even know it’s been captured?

14

After unlocking two deadbolts, Clay pushed open the door and stepped into the still darkness of his apartment.  Flicking the light switch revealed a large, sparsely decorated living room that looked as though it hadn’t been used in months.  It hadn’t.

In the bedroom, he parked his suitcase near the bed and dropped his bag onto the blue and grey striped comforter.  He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep, and had a feeling he was going to need it.

***

Unfortunately, Clay’s sleep only lasted until 4:10 a.m. when his cell phone rang.  He picked it up off the nearby nightstand and squinted at the bright screen.

He answered and sat up, groaning.  “Will, do you ever sleep?”

Borger chuckled on the other end.  “Probably more than you do.  Sorry to wake you up, but it’s important.”

“What do you have?”

“I found something with my pixel scanning.  I think it’s significant.”  Borger switched the phone to his other hand and used his mouse to enlarge the picture on his screen.  “It’s not what we were expecting.”

“Have you called Langford?”

“Yes.  He should be online in a few minutes.  He told me to get you and Steve on too.”

***

Seven minutes later, Clay sat hunched in a dining room chair, staring at his laptop screen.  Langford and Caesare were doing the same on theirs.  They were all looking at the display Borger was sharing from his own monitor.  He enlarged a picture of the Atlantic Ocean so everyone could see it.

“I came back to my lab last night after our meeting,” Borger began.  “Clay’s comment about the simplest answer got me thinking.  What if what we were looking for was more obvious?  We’ve been scanning data from thousands of miles of ocean looking for the signs of the Forel.  It would have taken the sub weeks to get here.  And knowing that the longer they were out, the higher the chances of somehow being discovered, probably means a direct route.”  Borger zoomed out to a larger picture, highlighting the area he was scanning.  “But what if we were approaching this from the wrong angle, or more specifically, the wrong direction?  The Forel was captured here.”  A bright circle appeared off the northern coast of Brazil.  “From there, pretty much anywhere south has a higher chance of being patrolled by the Brazilian Navy.  So I decided to take a look to the north.”

Borger double-clicked his mouse.  Again, the picture zoomed in, but this time closer to the northeastern coastline of South America.  The next countries north of Brazil were the small countries of French Guiana, Suriname, and Guyana, lastly followed by the larger Venezuela at the top of his picture.

“I managed to commandeer more servers to run another search and went north instead.  And this is what the program found.”  He typed something on his keyboard and his map zoomed in even further, down to the individual wave level where a tiny red cloud appeared.

All three of the others stared at their own screens, studying the red image.  “That’s it,” said Langford.

“Yes, sir,” answered Borger.  “The Forel’s exhaust plume.  Or at least the heat from it.  But that’s not the best part.  Look at where I found it.”  He zoomed out yet again and the other three on the line fell silent.

“Guyana?”

“Guyana,” repeated Borger.

Caesare tilted his head curiously at the image.  “What on earth was it doing in Guyana?”

“That’s where it gets weird.”  Borger leaned forward again in his chair and resumed typing.  “It’s not just that the Forel was submerged off the coast of that country.  “It’s how long it was submerged for.”

“How long?”

“Two months!”

“Two months?!” cried Langford.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.  Once I found it, I downloaded another two months of data and started going backward.  The exact location varies a little, but not much.  That Russian sub had been sitting there for exactly two months and four days.”

The conference line fell silent again as the three digested the information.  Modern submarines could, of course, remain stationary for a long period of time.  Although no one really ever did it for that long, outside of running drills.

“What the hell were they doing?”

Clay spoke up.  “Will, can you tell in which direction they were pointed?”

“I certainly can!”  Borger smiled.  Clay was one sharp cookie.  “Because subs need to approach the surface to discard their exhaust, I was able to identify the outline of the sub pretty easily.  We can see that the sub’s direction was almost always pointed toward the city it was nearest to, which was Guyana’s only major city: Georgetown.”

Clay was interested in the direction the Forel was pointing for one reason.  Aligning either the bow or stern with a target gave a submarine the smallest possible profile.

“So, it didn’t want to be seen by the city of Georgetown?”

“Not the city,” corrected Borger.  “Something in the city.”

Borger continued typing and the picture on their screens scrolled slightly south, traveling through the wide mouth of the Demerara River where it met the Atlantic Ocean.  Approximately two miles upriver sat an unmistakable shape.

“This is why I woke you all up,” said Borger.

The others were quiet yet again, this time studying the crystal clear image of a ship.  It appeared to be anchored near the only bridge crossing the Demerara from Georgetown.

“It’s big,” Caesare offered.  “Do we know whose it is?”

“The Chinese,” answered Langford solemnly.

“What do the Chinese have a ship in Guyana for?”

Langford’s voice was slow and deliberate as he continued studying the picture.  “This came across my desk a few weeks ago.  It wasn’t a priority.  The word the CIA picked up was that it was there for minor repairs.  They had been caught in a storm.”

Clay spoke up.  “What kind of ship, Admiral?”

“A warship.  A Corvette Class.”

“So is it just me,” Caesare said, “or is anyone else wondering what a Chinese warship is doing in the Atlantic?”

The Admiral said nothing, still staring into the eerie glow of his laptop screen.

“Will,” Clay changed the subject.  “Any idea how long the Corvette has been there?”

“I only have three months of data.  But it’s been there the whole time.”

“Can you zoom out again so we can see them both on the screen?”

Borger complied, zooming out until both vessels were visible as two large dots inside of the same shot.

Clay held up a piece of paper to his screen and angled it slightly.  “Line of sight.”

“Ideal observation through a periscope,” Caesare added.  “And pointing directly at it not only gives the Forel its smallest profile, but would also allow it to fire right up the mouth of that river.  Potentially before that ship could even make it out.”

After a long pause, Admiral Langford cleared his throat.  “I need to make some phone calls.”

15

Alison awoke and rolled toward the illuminated clock on her desk.

5:24 a.m.

She pressed her eyelids shut, hoping to drift off again, but eventually she gave up.  It was no use.  Her mind was already racing.

She lay in the darkness for several more minutes before sitting up on the edge of the firm couch.  She used it often, especially when Dirk and Sally were there.  With a sigh, Alison stood up and turned on the light, briefly blinding herself.  She waited a moment before taking her hand away from her eyes and double-checked the time using her wristwatch.

Quietly opening the door, she walked down the dark hallway, feeling her way along the wall.  She took the stairs down slowly and walked the length of the hallway until she spotted the wide door under a pale reflection from the moon outside.  She opened it softly and stepped in.

The water in the huge tank was lapping softly.  Near the surface of the tank, Alison could see the darkened shapes of Dirk and Sally, floating motionless as they slept.

Sleep was a very different experience for water-born mammals such as dolphins and whales.  The ocean was teeming with danger, which made the practice of completely shutting down the brain during sleep, the way humans did, a dangerous prospect.  Instead, the mammals slept by shutting down only half of their brain at a time.  This allowed them to remain in a semi-conscious state for protection, yet still garner the eight hours of rest they needed.

Alison approached the tank, watching them sleep.  Sally’s eyes suddenly opened.  After a brief pause, she used a very soft sway of her tail to move down and forward.  Sally stared through the glass at Alison but said nothing.  Instead, she turned and looked at the microphone.

Alison took the hint and turned on the computer screen atop Lee’s desk.  She then opened the window, which allowed her to turn down the volume of the speakers.  When it was done, she leaned into the microphone and whispered, “Good morning, Sally.”

Sally moved in close to the microphone.  Good morning Alison.  You no sleep.

She shook her head at Sally’s question.  She hadn’t been sleeping much at all lately.  “Not much tonight.”

Why you no sleep.

“Too much work.”  Interestingly, one of the several words IMIS seemed to have trouble translating was ‘work.'  It appeared dolphins didn’t have a precise equivalent in their language.  As a result, when Alison said “work,” the dolphins heard something more akin to their sound for “effort.”  Nevertheless, Sally seemed to understand.

You work much Alison.

“I know I do.”  She smiled at her own next thought.  You know it’s a problem when it’s not just your mother saying you work too much, but the dolphins too.

Alison continued watching her float in place until Sally spoke again.

You no happy Alison.

“What?”

You no happy.

Alison frowned.  “I am happy, Sally.  I’m just tired.”

Sally emitted a very soft set of clicks and whistles for Dirk’s sake, as he was still sleeping near the surface.  The external speaker on Lee’s desk emitted more of the translated words.  Me happy.  Me with Dirk.

Alison was about to reply when Sally’s next statement cut her off.  Where you friend.

She meant John Clay.  Sally had picked up on Alison’s relationship with Clay from the beginning.  “He’s working too.”

He work much too.

Alison shyly nodded.

Why humans work much.  Sally asked.

Alison took a deep breath.  It was a simple question, but hardly a simple answer.  She thought it over and finally shrugged.  “To make the world good, I guess.”

Sally was quiet for a moment, as if considering her reply.  World good now.

Alison smiled.  “Maybe to make things better then.”

What better.

“Better is making things more good.”

Sally was quiet again.  She remained floating in the water, looking at Alison and barely moving.  World more good before.

She stood still, staring at Sally.  Alison was overcome by a frightening thought.  They were making the world better, weren’t they?  To change the world; that was the point of the whole project.  It was what she told herself year after year, working eighteen-hour days and having to overcome obstacle after obstacle.  They wanted to change the world.  But had they?

The initial breakthrough they made with IMIS shocked the world.  There was no doubt.  But through it all, what surprised her the most wasn’t the overwhelming press, the interviews, and torrent of visitors.  It was the critics.  She would never have imagined how strong the backlash from them would be.  Skeptics in the scientific community were to be expected, but the nastiness from people in so many other fields was surprising.

The number of articles attacking the validity of their data was tremendous.  Many of them were written by people who knew far less about dolphins or marine biology.  She and her team initially thought it was just the conservatives, but a significant number turned out to be liberals too.  Some claimed it was a hoax for more attention, or more funding.  One talk show host insinuated that it was a simple “trick” using sophisticated software, never meant to do anything but fool the public.  For what?  What on earth did she stand to gain by fooling the world?  It was then she realized that being under the scrutiny of public opinion had a very dark side.  Yet fortunately, for every doubter, there were many more believers.  But had they really changed anything?

Alison remained motionless, staring at her own reflection in the thick glass.  It was true.  They had gotten an awful lot of people excited, but was the world fundamentally any different or better?  She thought about what Sally had said.  Was the world better, or could it really be worse?

The United States was arguably the epicenter of recent technological advancements, on virtually every level.  The computer changed everything, and then the internet came along and accelerated it all again.  Everyone now had phones that were more powerful than the first space shuttles.  Televisions were almost the size of an entire wall, and video games made real life look downright boring to most kids.  And to top it off, diseases like heart disease and obesity were at record highs.

What exactly was she working for?  In many ways, the world was getting worse.  She dropped her head, struck by a wave of shame, but immediately pulled herself out of it.  She knew the answer.  Now she was working to prove the critics wrong.  To prove the communication was genuine.  That it was real.  That was the whole reason for the vest; to be able to travel out into the wild, where she could show and immerse herself in the real world of dolphins, and to do so out from under the shadow of a man-made tank and any supposed tricks.

Nevertheless, Sally’s remark had caused Alison to step back abruptly and consider whether what they were doing now was truly for the science…or for her.

Go sleep Alison.  Rest, Sally said softly.

Alison shook herself out of her trance and managed to grin.

Sally studied Alison through the thick glass, standing in the darkness.  Tomorrow we show you.  Sally continued.  Tomorrow we show you world is beautiful.

She sighed, with just a little of the smile still remaining, and gently reached out for the tank, pushing her palm against the clear glass.

Slowly, Sally floated forward and touched her bottlenose to Alison’s palm, separated only by the thick pane of glass.

***

Alison sat behind her desk.  She stared out the window and watched the sun rise into the morning sky over the bright green hills of Puerto Rico.  The scattered, white clouds crawled across the endless expanse of blue.  Behind her, the sun’s warm rays slowly crept across the wall of her office.

Her laptop sat on the desk in front of her, displaying a detailed budget sheet.  She hated running everything.  All right, hate was a strong word.  Resentment, perhaps.  Deep down she resented having to do it, but the old director was gone, and no one else knew as much about the project details as she did.  She had been the lead since the very beginning.  The driving force.

Now it was all on her: the vision, execution, details, budgeting, everything.  The truth was that it was too much.  The difference between being the lead researcher and actually running the place was huge.  She was constantly bogged down in administrative minutia, and it was keeping her from doing the one thing she wanted most: to be free.  Alison yearned to be back on the front line doing nothing but pure research.  Instead, she was stuck in her office much of the day, making sure that everything else was done.  She’d thought about stepping down, but she was deathly afraid of what bureaucrat would replace her.

She tilted her head, listening to the loud murmur of children downstairs.  It was the last class visit before the big trip tomorrow.  Alison smiled at the thought of the small, excited faces pressed up against the glass.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door.  Her administrative assistant, Bruna, opened it and poked her head in.

“Alison?”

“Good morning, Bruna.”

The assistant smiled.  “There’s someone here to see you.  He said he doesn’t have an appointment.”

Alison rolled her eyes.  “I’m not in the mood for solicitations.  Whatever it is, just tell him I’m not interested.”

Bruna blinked.  “Um…actually, he said he’s here to ask for your help.  In fact, he asked to see DeeAnn too.”

“Help with what?”

“I don’t know.  But he sure doesn’t look like a solicitor.”

Alison raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s old.  And he’s dressed in the nicest suit I’ve ever seen.”

***

DeeAnn had just joined Alison in her office when Bruna escorted the old man in.  He entered with the help of a cane and a young female assistant attentively at his side.  His hair was completely white, combed straight back and neat.  His face bore a deep tan highlighted by his crème-colored dress shirt, which he wore beneath a dark blue, and very expensive, Kiton suit.  His cane looked to be made of ivory.

The man smiled sincerely at Alison and then DeeAnn.  With a brief nod, he staggered eagerly across the room toward them.

“Ah, Ms. Shaw and Ms. Draper, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”  His accent was noticeable but subtle.  “I very much appreciate you meeting me without an appointment.  I’m afraid there is a certain urgency to my trip.”

He reached them and held out his hand.  “My name is Mateus Alves.”

Alison shook his hand politely.  His aged skin was soft and cool.  Standing next to her, DeeAnn did the same.  “What can we do for you, Mr. Alves?”

“Please,” Alves waved his hand humorously, “call me Mateus.  Being called by my first name may be the only thing left that helps me feel young.”  He motioned to his aide next to him.  “This is Carolina, my assistant.  Please excuse her silence.  She knows very little English.”

Both ladies smiled politely at Carolina.

Alison motioned to one of the chairs in front of her desk.  “May I offer you a chair?”

“Wonderful, thank you,” Alves replied.  He turned around and fell gently into the seat with a welcomed sigh.  “Please excuse our abruptness.  I hope I haven’t intruded too much.”

“Not at all.”  Alison relaxed and watched the man curiously.  “We were just doing some planning for a trip.”

Alves raised his cane and nonchalantly propped it up in front of him, resting on it.  “I’ll be as brief as I can.  I know you are very busy.  I’ve come to see you both, as I am a follower of your work.  And a big fan, I might add.  I’m a businessman in Rio de Janeiro.  I own a number of hotels and, as you might guess, have done rather well.”  He made a humble gesture at his clothing.  “As you can also see, I am an old man.  And as such, I have spent a number of my later years trying to give something back.”

Alison and DeeAnn glanced at each other.  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Alves.”  Alison caught herself.  “I mean, Mateus.  But we’re not actually in need of additional funding at this time.  We have a number of-”

“Forgive me, Ms. Shaw,” he interrupted.  “That’s not what I meant.  My visit is of a different nature entirely.”

A flash of embarrassment passed between the women.  Alison motioned for him to continue.

“You are correct.  I am somewhat of a philanthropist, but my efforts reside more around my home country than outside.  In fact, it is one of those endeavors that brought me to you.”  He glanced up at Carolina as he went on.  “I have spent a number of years building a wildlife preserve for the indigenous animals of South America.  I’m sad to say many are now threatened.  I’ve spent all my life in South America, and wanted to build something that would help preserve the beauty of our continent well into the future, both flora and fauna.”

Alves stopped briefly and caught his breath.  “And I wanted to make it big.  Our preserve,” he announced, with a hint of pride, “is approximately the size of eighty thousand of your acres.”  He watched their expressions change with some amusement.  “It’s the least I could do for a country that has given me so much.”

Alison watched Alves lean back in his chair.  “And you need some help with your preserve?”

He grinned.  “Of a sort, yes.  But probably not what you are guessing.  You see, I have hired a great number of people, not just to build this ecological oasis, but to run and maintain it.  Many people, including botanists, agriculturalists, and even animal behaviorists like yourself.”

DeeAnn, still standing next to Alison, tilted her head questioningly.  “Where did you say your reserve was located?”

Alves turned.  “Ah, I didn’t, Ms. Draper.  My reserve is called ‘O Nosso Mundo’ and is located a few hundred miles north of São Luis.  It was an ideal location for several reasons of which I won’t bore you with.  But we have since acquired a great many indigenous animals, including snakes, macaws, jaguars, as well as a number of primates.  All now part of our growing preserve.”

Alison was watching Alves with a slight look of confusion, still waiting to understand the significance of his visit.  Although what she didn’t notice was the color slowly draining from DeeAnn’s face.

Nor did she notice the subtle shift of Alves’ attention toward DeeAnn as he continued.  “In fact, our lead researcher is a strong follower of your research here.  He is fascinated with the dolphins and especially your young gorilla.”

Alison finally nodded.  “Oh, I see.  He must be doing similar research, I presume.”

Alves glanced back to Alison.  “Yes, very much so.  He’s been working with Capuchin Monkeys, which are native to South America.  And as you probably know, are the most intelligent of the New World primates.”

Alison turned to DeeAnn and opened her mouth to speak but suddenly stopped when she saw the expression on her face.

Alves paused and took a deep breath.  He was staring at DeeAnn again.  “Unfortunately, something has happened to our researcher, and he’s now missing.”

DeeAnn finally spoke, in a low whisper.  “What’s his name?”

Alves didn’t answer immediately.  Instead, he glanced up at Carolina, then back to the two women.

“What’s his name?” DeeAnn repeated, louder.

“Luke…Luke Greenwood.”

Alison watched DeeAnn begin to waver in place then stumble back a step.   Her face was now completely white.  She reached out and grabbed her arm.  “Dee?!”

DeeAnn blinked and reached for Alison at the same time.  A split second later, she fell back against the edge of the desk.

Alarmed, Alison looked back and forth between the two.  “What is it?  What’s going on?”

DeeAnn interrupted. “What…happened to him?

Alves took another deep breath.  This was the part he had been dreading.  He thought a moment, trying to find the right words.  “Please know that South America is a most beautiful place, but it’s also very…volatile.  I am the first to admit this.  And while I have become very wealthy as a businessman, it has not come without its share of controversy.”  A look of guilt began to appear on Alves’ face.  “I’m sorry to say I have developed many political enemies over the years, and I fear that Mr. Greenwood is now the victim of such.”

Alves dropped his gaze to the floor and gently shook his head.  “Recently our preserve was attacked.  A large portion of our new complex was destroyed and many of the animals slaughtered.  Mr. Greenwood was the only one there that night.  He has now been missing for two weeks, and I fear the worst.”

DeeAnn closed her eyes and began to cry.

Alison squeezed her hand.  “Oh Dee, do you know him?”

DeeAnn pulled her hands up and placed them over her face.  Her cries quickly turned into sobs.

Alves answered for her.  “Ms. Shaw, the reason I’ve come to talk to you is because I believe Ms. Draper knows Mr. Greenwood very well.”

16

DeeAnn threw open the double doors to the lab and rushed in, letting them close loudly behind her.  She immediately fell against the wall to the right and slid down to the floor, sobbing.

At the far end, Lee poked his head out from a small room, wondering what the noise was.  He stood up and spotted DeeAnn huddled on the floor.  With a concerned look on his face, Lee started to approach her.  He then saw Alison ease one of the doors open and look around.  She waved him off and he nodded, quickly retreating and leaving through another door in the opposite corner.

Alison let the door close, knelt down in front of DeeAnn, and put a hand on her shoulder.  She said nothing.  She just waited.

After several minutes, DeeAnn’s crying finally slowed.  She used the back of her hands to wipe the tears away and sniffed loudly.  She let her head fall back against the wall and opened her blurry eyes at Alison, who moved her hands down to DeeAnn’s bent knees.  “Are you okay?”

DeeAnn sniffed again and rolled her head from side to side against the wall.  “No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

After a long silence, DeeAnn angled her head and looked up at the ceiling, absently following the dozens of support beams connecting one wall to another.  “I’ve been friends with Luke Greenwood for a long time.  Almost twenty years.  But I haven’t seen him in a while.”  She exhaled slowly.  “We were both working on our doctorates when we met at grad school.  He was a few years older.”  DeeAnn dropped her eyes back to Alison.  “He was also further along than I was, but our interests couldn’t have been more aligned, and he became my mentor.  In fact, we worked together for several years even after we got our PhDs.  Until I went to work with Koko.”  She stared off to the side as the memories came flooding back.  “He’s really brilliant.”

Alison adjusted her position and sat down cross-legged.  She leaned forward, listening.

After a moment, DeeAnn turned back to her.  “Do you remember what I told you about how I came to have Dulce?”

“You said you rescued her in Mexico.”

“That’s right.  It was a testing facility, used by the pharmaceuticals.  It was outside of U.S. regulations and barely one step away from a slaughterhouse.  What they were doing with those animals was horrific.  It was torture in every sense of the word.”

Alison nodded.  “I remember that part.”

“That was right after I left working with Koko and the Gorilla Foundation.  I told you I left the Foundation because I wanted to make a bigger difference.  A difference in the lives of these poor animals.  Dulce being one of them.  But I didn’t tell you what inspired a change at that point in my life.”  She leveled her eyes at Alison.  “It was Luke Greenwood who got me to leave.”

Alison raised her eyebrows curiously.

“I hadn’t seen him in years, but one day he showed up at the Foundation.  He told me he was forming a group to track and save captive and abused animals.  And he wanted me to join him.”

DeeAnn closed her eyes for a long moment, before opening them again.  “Luke always made it impossible to say no.  He was so passionate.  Seeing animals being tortured made him angrier than anything.”

“So you went with him.”

DeeAnn nodded.  “By the time I left, I was as angry as he was.  And you know what?” she asked.

Alison shrugged.

“We saved a lot.”  She breathed in deeply.  “From places all over the world.  And then we learned about the facility in Mexico.  All funded, built, and run by pharmaceutical money.  And they didn’t care who knew about it.  It’s like they were flaunting it.  So with help from others, we found the place and watched, planning.  And then late one night, we raided it.”

Alison frowned.  “That sounds dangerous.”

“It was.  They even had a few armed guards, but we caught them with their pants down and disarmed them.”  A smile spread across DeeAnn’s face.  “It was glorious!”

“And that’s where you found Dulce?”

“Yes.  We saved hundreds of animals that night.  Many were able to survive in the local ecosystem so we set them free. The rest we took out of there.  By morning, we’d made it to the border where we had a team from San Diego waiting, along with some government officials who supported us.  It was a major blow to those drug companies, both economically and politically.  We’d also taken video of the factory.  One of the companies got so much negative press and came under so much scrutiny that they abandoned their animal testing completely.  We broke their back.  And it was all thanks to Luke.”

“So what happened to him?”

“After we rescued the animals, I discovered that Dulce was far more intelligent than I expected.  So I started working with her, trying to provide whatever possible therapy I could.  I was hoping we could return her to the wild someday, but she never wanted to leave.  At the same time, I was making progress communicating with her even faster than we had with Koko.  I just fell in love with her.  But Luke wasn’t done.  He said he wouldn’t stop until he’d broken the back of every drug company.  I didn’t think it was practical and tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen.  We parted ways, and I’m afraid not under the best of terms.  Something I’ve always regretted.”

“When did that happen?”

“About a year and a half ago.  The last I’d heard, he was working with someone in South America.  On a preserve.”

Alison opened her eyes wide.  “I had no idea.”

“How could you?” DeeAnn shrugged, then thought about something.  “Unfortunately there’s one more thing.  Dulce calls me mommy for obvious reasons.  But if she considers me her mother, then Luke would undoubtedly be considered her father.”

***

“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Draper.  My intention was not to cause distress.  I should have been more delicate about the news over Mr. Greenwood.  Please accept my apology.”

DeeAnn forced a polite smile.  “It’s all right.  I’ve never been one for tip-toeing.”  Her eyes were dry but still red.  She and Alison had returned to the office and now sat facing Alves and his assistant.  “I assume there is more to your visit.”

Alves nodded gratefully.  “Indeed.  Perhaps it might help if you could tell me the last time you saw Luke.”

“About a year and a half ago.”

Alves thought for a moment.  “Right.  I met him shortly after that.  Shortly after he arrived in South America.  He approached my organization in an effort to raise funds.  I almost dismissed him at first, but then I realized exactly why he was there; to rescue animals which had been captured and were being sold for medical testing.”

DeeAnn smirked.  “Medical testing is too kind a term.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Alves nodded.  “I’m afraid South America has a dark side to our beautiful jungle landscape.  It’s very easy to hide things you don’t want seen.  And like other economically strapped countries, ours is also subject to a great many humanitarian abuses.  Which is why Luke wanted to go straight to the source.”

DeeAnn turned to Alison, “Poaching.”

“Correct.  The animals trapped in test labs first need to be captured.  Luke called them ‘torture labs,' and while South America does not have many of these facilities, we do have a large number of poachers who are happy to provide the supply, unfortunately.  Men travel deep into our jungles and capture a variety of different animals to sell cheaply on the black market.  And with Brazil being the largest country in this region, we have the disgrace of carrying out more of these crimes than anyone else.”  He turned to his assistant who shamefully dropped her head.  She obviously understood enough English to know what Alves was referring to.

“So, Luke went after the poachers.”

“More or less, yes.  But he didn’t go alone.  You see, when Luke came to us and explained what he needed the money for, it became obvious that we had a rather symbiotic relationship.  He wanted to save wild animals, and I wanted to keep them within the safety of my preserve.  It seemed an ideal solution.”  Alves shrugged subtly.  “So he joined my employ.”

“And you funded his raids?”

“Well, the word ‘raid’ may be a tad extreme, but yes, I funded him.  I also provided him with protection: a team from my own security service accompanied him and helped plan the rescues.  And I dare say we were rather successful.  Over the course of ten months, we freed hundreds of captured animals that were being prepared for shipment.  Many of those animals joined my preserve, where they currently live a safe and happy life in the wild.”

DeeAnn frowned.  “So, what happened?”

Alves leaned back in his chair.  “Dexter happened.”

DeeAnn and Alison raised their eyebrows and spoke almost in unison.  “Dexter?”

Alves’ lips broke into a smile.  “Dexter was one of our rescues.  He’s a capuchin monkey, rescued in our last mission.”  His face became serious again.  “That mission was the deepest into the Amazon rainforest to date.  What they found was a big operation and a rescue that was, well, quite surprising.”

Both women were listening intently as he leaned forward, obviously getting more excited.  “Luke and his team always went in at night.  It was much easier.  Normally, they would observe the camp for several days first to assess the situation.”

“However, on this trip, they saw something rather extraordinary.  These particular poachers had rounded up hundreds of capuchin monkeys and were preparing to truck them back down to the coast, where they would meet a cargo ship and make the transfer.  The capuchins would not be caged until loaded onto the ship since the space requirements were far too prohibitive for using individual cages in the mountains.  Instead, they were gathered and kept in giant nets.

“You can imagine some of the problems involved in keeping them in these large nets.  And it was while Luke was observing the camp that he spotted Dexter.”

“Spotted him in a net?” Alison asked.

“Not exactly.”  Alves now smiled, almost humorously.  “Dexter hadn’t been captured.  At least not yet.  He was outside the net, which was bound by a strong rope.”  Alves paused for effect.  “You see, Dexter was trying to free the other monkeys.  More specifically, he was trying to untie the knot in the rope.”

Both women’s eyes suddenly shot open.  “What?”  DeeAnn gasped.  “He was trying to untie the knot?!”

Alves was smiling wider now and nodded.  “That’s right.  But that’s not the best part.”  He leaned forward even more.  “Dexter was not only trying to untie the knot, but he almost did it!  One of the poachers spotted him and netted him, but he didn’t realize what Dexter was trying to do.  When Luke told me the story, he said that when he examined the net himself, Dexter had managed to get most of it undone!”

DeeAnn was speechless.  The story had not been wasted on Alison either.  She was no expert on primates, but even she knew how incredible that was.  The look on DeeAnn’s face confirmed it.

Alves gave DeeAnn a knowing look.  “From what I understand, Luke Greenwood had a very similar reaction.”

She just stared at him, shaking her head silently in utter disbelief.  Finally, she put her hand against her cheek.  “Luke told you that story?”

“Nearly word for word.”

“That’s…amazing.  And in the wild.  My God.”

“Luke was equally shocked,” said Alves.  “But he was also excited.  In fact, he was so enthralled that he stopped his missions and began working with Dexter.  He knew what you were doing with Koko and then here with Ms. Shaw.  He was planning to contact you.  I’m surprised he hadn’t already.”

“He never did.”  DeeAnn’s excitement quickly faded to disappointment.

Alves noticed Alison staring at him with a raised eyebrow and turned back to her.

“I’m afraid you still haven’t told us what you need help with,” Alison reminded him.

He looked at her, impressed.  “You’re both very sharp.  The reason I’m here is that while I understand that he did not have Ms. Draper’s experience, Luke was able to make quite a bit of progress communicating with Dexter.  I believe this was why he was following your work here with such interest.”  The pleasantness in Alves’ face seemed to fall away and was replaced with grief.  “But, eventually came the attack on our complex.”

“And the animals were killed.”

“Yes.  And Luke disappeared.”  Alves sat up straight.  “But there may be a silver lining.  We believe Dexter survived and escaped back out into the preserve.  I’ve come to get your help in finding him.”

17

“Excuse me?”

“Ms. Shaw, I know this may sound a bit presumptuous, but I’d like you to help us find Dexter.”  Alves’ expression was serious.  “We still don’t know who attacked us, or where Luke might be.  Even though we haven’t received any communication, we are still hopeful.  But more than that, I believe Dexter saw what happened that night, and he may just be smart enough to give us vital information about it.  How many were involved?  What they were wearing?  If we can just get an idea of who did it, I promise you, I will spare no expense tracking them down and finding Luke.”

“I don’t-” Alison started, then turned to DeeAnn, who remained silently thinking.

Finally, DeeAnn looked back at him curiously.  “This isn’t just about finding the monkey.  This is about talking to him.”

Alves nodded.  “That’s correct.”

“Is that even possible?” Alison asked.

DeeAnn rubbed her finger softly against her lip.  “It’s feasible…maybe.”

“I thought IMIS was programmed specifically for gorillas.  Is this monkey similar to a gorilla?”

“No,” DeeAnn answered.  “Not even close.”

“Could IMIS talk to it?”

DeeAnn shook her head.  “Doubtful.  But…”

“But what?”

“But there’s another possibility.  Dulce may be able to talk to a capuchin.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No.”  She paused to think again before continuing.  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s possible.  When I worked with Koko at the Gorilla Foundation, there was a researcher by the name of Joanne Tanner.  She was brilliant and had worked there for years.”  DeeAnn’s speech began to speed up, with a trace of excitement.  “She spent ten years filming gorillas at the San Francisco Zoo and discovered something startling.  The gorillas there had never been taught to sign like Koko, but she found that they used gestures.  She documented almost thirty common, instinctive gestures used by the gorillas.  It was a major discovery in primate studies, demonstrating what some of us had already suspected.  There is a lot more to their communication than we know.  More importantly, she found those common gestures spanned multiple species.  And I believe one of them was capuchin monkeys.”

“You mean like some kind of sign language?”

“Yes, exactly.  And with Dulce and this Dexter monkey both being highly intelligent, it’s conceivable that they could actually speak to one another.  I don’t know how likely it is, but it’s certainly possible.  Joanne was sure there were many more gestures yet to be identified.”

Alves was smiling broadly, excited at DeeAnn’s explanation.

“But transporting a gorilla is a production,” she continued, thinking about the logistics.  “It would have to be as fast as possible so she didn’t become too anxious or nervous.  She would also need to be in a cage, just in case.  Dulce is young, but she’s still strong.  Too strong for us if she became frightened.  It would definitely have to be by plane.”

“I can provide whatever you need.”

“Whoa, hold on!”  Alison interrupted, holding up a hand.  She looked at their visitors.  “Would you mind if we excused ourselves for a minute?”

“Of course,” Alves replied.

With that, Alison stood up and motioned for DeeAnn to follow her.  They crossed the room and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.  After it clicked shut, Alison wasted no time.

“Okay, hold up.  What exactly are we thinking here?”

“A trip,” answered DeeAnn.

“A trip,” repeated Alison.  “Just like that?”

DeeAnn folded her arms.  “I don’t think we have much choice, Ali.  Or time.”

“Okay,” Alison said calmly.  “I know you’re worried about Luke.  I understand that.  But we just met this man.  We know nothing about him.”

“That’s true, although we should be able to check him out pretty easily.  I mean, the man sounds like some kind of billionaire mogul.  I doubt we’d have much difficulty finding out.”

“Okay, fine.  Let’s assume everything he says is true.  We’d be heading off into the jungle in some unknown country-”

“You mean I would be.”

“Wait, what?  Alison looked confused.

“I would be heading off into the jungle.”

“You would be?  What about me?”

“Because you, Alison, have a very big day tomorrow.  You can’t miss this.”

“Are you kidding?” Alison raised her voice.  “You think I’m going to just ship off while you and Dulce get on a plane bound for God knows where?”

“Yes,” replied DeeAnn, with her face forming a determined look.  “Because everything is ready now.  Including Dirk and Sally.”

Alison froze with her mouth open, working on her rebuttal.  But she had none.

“Listen, Ali.  I don’t want to argue.  Do I think this is a brilliant idea?  No.  But we also don’t have a lot of time.  If there is any chance Luke is still alive and we can help find him, then I have to try.”  Her dark eyes softened.  “He would do it for me.”

Alison glanced at her, then off to the side, finally closing her mouth.  She sighed in resignation.  “Okay.  What are the risks?”

DeeAnn thought about the question.  “Something happens to me…or Dulce.”

“Exactly!”

“I see what you’re doing.  Could something happen to me or Dulce?  Yes.  It’s a possibility, but probably not a very likely one.  Listen, Ali, something has already happened to Luke.  We’d be talking about a low probability against one that’s already occurred.  It’s not a terribly hard decision.”

“Dee, there’s a lot more involved than that and you know it.”

“I do, but when it’s all boiled down, it still comes down to whether we try to help.  And I think we both know each other well enough to know what that answer is.”

Alison stared at her in silence.  Her head began to shake back and forth.  DeeAnn was right.  As long as Alves and his security team checked out, it wasn’t a huge risk.  It was really more about the logistics.  And it was not as though they wouldn’t be coming back.  “Well, I don’t like the idea of both of us being gone at the same time.  It doesn’t seem smart.”

“We can stay in touch by phone.  You have the satellite phone on the boat.”

Alison sighed again and covered her face with her right hand.  Something about this didn’t feel quite right.  It was too rushed.  In reality, they still knew very little.  The only reason to throw things together so haphazardly was because they didn’t know whether Luke was alive and, if so, for how much longer.

“Assuming Alves can provide what’s needed,” DeeAnn said, “there’s really only one thing left.”

They looked at each other and then both slowly turned around.  The one thing was an awfully big ‘if.'

18

“You want us to make another vest?!”  Lee Kenwood was leaning over his metal workbench.  Juan Diaz was on the opposite side, disconnecting wires.

Both Alison and DeeAnn stood at the end of the workbench, watching them.  “Is it possible?”

Lee stopped and looked at them.  “You mean when we get back from the open water testing?”

Alison glanced nervously at DeeAnn.  “No, before we leave.”

Both Lee and Juan stopped what they were doing.  “Before we leave?”

Alison eked out a small grin.  “Possible?”

The two engineers turned their gazes back to each other, considering.  Juan shrugged first.  “There’s always V2.”

Lee took a deep breath, still thinking.

“What’s V2?  DeeAnn asked.

Reluctantly, Lee replied.  “It’s the backup.”

“The backup what?”

“The backup waterproof vest.”

Both women’s eyes opened wide.  “We have a second vest?”

“Well, ‘second’ might be a stretch.  It’s a second unit primarily for spare parts.  We were planning to take it with us on the boat.”

“Does it work?”

Again, Lee and Juan exchanged looks.  “It could work.  But I’m not sure how quickly.  We’d have to do a data dump and then go through testing, which takes longer than anything else.  More importantly, the translations would be very slow without a separate server.  The processor in the vest is small which is why we offload the bulk of the work to other servers.  When are you and Dulce supposed to leave?”

“How about tomorrow?”

Lee rolled his eyes.  “I don’t think we can make that.  The data dump would take almost that long, leaving us virtually no time to test.  Could you leave on Saturday?”

DeeAnn frowned.  “I have a friend in trouble.”

“And you need an IMIS system to help?”

“Yes.  And Dulce too.”

Lee was still pondering when Juan spoke.  “We could probably put it together in time, but with only minimal testing.  If it didn’t work, it would be a wasted trip.  It also means we have no backup or spare if we have problems during the open water test.  And speaking from a technical standpoint, having no backup is a really bad idea.”

“Have you had any problems so far with the first vest?” Alison asked.

“Not yet.”

“Well, that sounds encouraging.”

“We’re still in a controlled environment.  Sending the second vest off without thorough testing, especially if you need it so badly, scares the hell out of me.”

“Well,” DeeAnn interjected, with her hand resting over her mouth.  “Maybe we can test on the way.”  They all turned and looked at DeeAnn, who smiled at Juan.  “Ever been to South America, Juan?”

Juan returned the smile.  “I can be packed in ten minutes.”

DeeAnn looked at Alison playfully.  “I hate that about men.”

“Hold on,” Lee said.  With a sigh, he ran his hand over his face.  “There’s something else.”  Lee circled the other end of the workbench and headed for his computer.  “Something I need to show you both.”

He fell into his black chair and rolled forward, placing his hands on an extra wide keyboard.  “We have another problem.”  He opened a window that filled the entire screen, displaying another frame of video footage.  The long list of system log entries appeared alongside of the video.  The frequency of red colored errors in the log was increasing.  “I’ve been trying to track it down, but I can’t seem to find it.”

“Track what down?”

“This.”  He pointed to the list of errors on the screen.  “This is the main system log for IMIS’ translation process.  This is where identification and translation happens.  And these red entries are indicating problems.”

Alison leaned in closer, staring at the text.  “What kind of problems?”

“Problems with the translations…as in mistakes.”

Both of the women’s eyes widened.  “Mistakes?”

“Yes.”  Lee sighed again, turning around to face them.  “There’s a lot involved in what IMIS does.  It starts with converting the analog wavelengths of our voice into digital data.  It then parses that data into chunks that can be matched against spelling and grammatical rules looking for errors.  Then it applies dozens of-” he suddenly stopped when he noticed their eyes beginning to glaze over.

“Okay,” he continued.  “So that’s basically how it works…but here’s the problem: the communication is increasingly becoming less systematic.  In other words, it’s unraveling.”  Lee swung back around to his screen.  He grabbed the mouse and scrolled up through the log until the entries displayed the time and date from four days ago.  “Look at this.  Not as many errors as today.”  He then scrolled up further.  “And even less last week.”

“So they’re increasing?”

“Exactly.”

“So what are the errors saying?” asked DeeAnn.

“What they seem to be indicating is that an increasing number of language translations are no longer matching.  The time synchronizations are off.  Which means the data is being received and transmitted out of order.”

Alison stood up straight.  “So what does that mean?  We’re not really talking to Dirk and Sally, or Dulce?”

“No, that’s the weird part.  There aren’t any errors for Dirk and Sally’s translations, just Dulce’s.  And, yes, we are really talking to her, for now.”  He scrolled back down his log entries.  “But the errors are clearly increasing, and we’re already close to one error out of every twenty translations.  It’s getting worse, fast.”

DeeAnn shot Alison a worried look.  “And you have no idea what the problem is?”

Lee shook his head sheepishly.  “I don’t.  I’ve been trying to figure it out, but haven’t been able to yet.  If I had to guess, I would say there’s something wrong with one or more of the logic sequences we developed for Dulce.  Those that are primate specific.  Or, perhaps a flaw in one of the algorithms itself.  Either way, it indicates this to be a deep problem and not something we can fix quickly, or easily.”

DeeAnn took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.  “So what you’re saying is even if we build another vest for me to take, it may not work regardless.”

“I’m afraid so.  I agree with Juan.  We could assemble a vest in time and make it work, even if he went with you and did the testing on the plane.  But at some point, your communication with Dulce is going to become less and less accurate until you reach a point that you can’t even understand her.”

“How long do you think I’d have?”

“Hard to say,” Lee shrugged.  “Judging from the speed the errors are increasing, I’d guess three or four days.”

Alison folded her arms.  “And you think this will take some time to fix.”

“Eventually, yes.  We haven’t even identified where the problem is, let alone begun working on a fix.”

Alison turned to her left and stared at DeeAnn.  “Well, I guess it’s now or never!”

19

Will Borger peered through the side window of the blue-gray SH-60F “Oceanhawk” helicopter and watched the blur of the blue Caribbean waters passing beneath them.  His white knuckles gripped the top of his bag, which was secured tightly between his knees as he kept his eyes closed and tried to fight off a budding sense of nausea.

Borger didn’t like to fly, especially in helicopters.  He understood all the physics involved.  He understood the properties of air pressure and lift.  He even understood the dynamics behind autorotation for emergency landings but none of that helped.  In the end, his respect for the simple, yet “terminal”, role of gravity ultimately won out.

Borger checked his watch again, anxiously.  He recounted the steps in his apparent mistake at waking up Admiral Langford to give him the news about the Chinese ship.   He hadn’t expected to be included on a plane flight with Clay and Caesare, now headed south.  Nor was he expecting the Oceanhawk, which had been waiting in Grenada to fly them out to sea, to drop onto one of the Navy’s research ships already en route to Guyana.

Borger heard something through his bulky headset and turned away from the window.  He leaned forward and peered past Clay, who was seated in the middle.  Steve Caesare was slumped quietly against the wall on his side of the narrow cabin.  Borger shook his head in amazement.  Watching Caesare sleep, despite the thunderous blades of the helicopter, was bad enough.  Having to listen to him snore blissfully through the headset was just plain ridiculous.

The blur of the water below them slowed and the helicopter began to bank to the left.  As it came around, Borger glimpsed part of the ship below them.  Finally, they had arrived.

The USNS Bowditch was one of the Navy’s Oceanographic Survey Ships, performing research for acoustical, biological, physical, and geophysical ocean surveys.  At an impressive 328 feet, with a stark white painted hull, it was one of six “Special Mission” ships in the Navy’s Military Sealift Command.

Once the helicopter dropped softly onto the pad, the sliding door next to Borger was pulled open.  The face of a petty officer appeared in helmet and goggles.  Powerful rotors could be heard winding down above them while the three stooped and climbed down the short set of steps.

Borger, still hunching forward, followed Clay and Caesare across the gray deck and up the two flights of stairs to the ship’s bridge.

A tall and lean Captain Krogstad nodded to all three men as they stepped inside.

“Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Bowditch.”

“Thank you,” they said, almost in unison.  Clay stepped forward and extended his hand.  “We appreciate the lift, Captain.”

Krogstad eyed Clay as he shook his hand.  “I have my orders.”

Clay hoped that was Krogstad’s version of a joke.  He knew the Captain was actually longtime friends with Admiral Langford, and had effectively “retired” to a research ship simply to stay off the “hard.”

The fact of the matter was that Krogstad had seen his share of naval incursions over the last thirty years, both official and unofficial.  Like many hardened senior officers, he had decided combat was rarely the answer to most problems; something politicians never seemed to figure out.  Krogstad had also long since given himself to the sea and, frankly, had no intention of giving up an active command.  Not until they took it from him.

The captain turned to the young female officer standing next to him, dressed sharply in a white shirt and skirt. “This is Commander Neely Lawton, our technical officer.  She will show you to your quarters and help you with anything you need.  Once the chopper’s buttoned up, we can get underway again.”  He glanced at his watch.  “We should make landfall by tomorrow morning.”

They thanked the captain again and nodded to Commander Lawton.  “Welcome, gentlemen,” she said.  “If you’ll come with me, please.”  With that, she stepped past them and pulled open the door they’d just come through.

The three followed her down another set of stairs to the mid-deck, then along a catwalk to the foredeck.  She led them through a series of hallways until they reached an end with doors to each of their cabins.

Lawton motioned to the doors.  “Feel free to settle in, gentlemen.  Have you been on a Pathfinder class ship before?”

Steve Caesare flashed his winning Italian smile from under his dark mustache.  “We sure have.”

Lawton was turning away but stopped and did a double take at his smile.  Almost imperceptibly, she furrowed her brow and continued.  “Then I assume you know the layout of the ships.  I’ll be in the science lab for most of the afternoon.  If you’re hungry, please feel free to stop by the cafeteria.  Our cook should be there for another couple hours and would be happy to make you something.”

The men thanked her and watched Lawton turn and walk back down the narrow passage.  After she disappeared from view, Clay frowned and looked at Caesare.

“Not the reaction you were looking for, eh?”  He slapped him on the back.  “Maybe your smile is losing its charm.”

Caesare scoffed.  “Impossible!”

***

After an early lunch, the men visited the lab, which was located near the center of the ship and one of the largest sections on the mid-deck.  The room, brightly lit from dozens of fluorescent lights overhead, had only a few small windows.  The walls were painted in the ship’s familiar light gray, covered with glass-door shelving.  The tables were full of science equipment and computers.

Commander Lawton was on the far side of the room, standing over two seated researchers.  All three of them studied a huge computer monitor mounted securely above the table.  On the screen was a three-dimensional topological map of the ocean floor, with bright orange dots spread uniformly across the picture.

Caesare crossed the light-colored tile floor and stopped next to her, joining them to examine the monitor.  “And what do we have here?”

Lawton did not take her eyes off the screen.  “It’s part of a new array we’ve been deploying in the eastern Caribbean.  Similar to the old hydrophones, but these are based on active sonar technology.  More sensitive with a much better range.”

“How many have you deployed?” asked Clay.

She straightened and turned around.  “Several thousand square miles so far.  We’re still running tests and fine-tuning, but within a few years, we’ll be able to monitor everything larger than a life raft in this area.”

Caesare looked wryly at Clay and Borger.  “Could have used that with the Forel.”

“Is that the Russian sub you found near Brazil?” she asked.

“Correct.”

“Any chance you know what direction it came from?” asked Lawton.

“It’s debatable,” Caesare grinned.

“I don’t think it came through your array if that’s what you’re asking.”  Clay suddenly had a thought about the Forel.  “Although it would be interesting to see what happened if it did.  We found it carrying a powerful active noise reduction system on board, which we assumed was used to silence its propulsion system.  But now I’m wondering whether it could do something similar with the sound waves from sonar.”

Borger’s eyes lit up.  “Oh, wow.  I hadn’t thought about that.  If those speakers run the length of the sub…that could be big.”

Caesare eyed the two biosafety cabinets behind them, used for providing ultra-sterile testing environments.  “So, Commander Lawton, what is your background, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Biology.  Systems Biology, to be exact.  DNA, proteins, complexes…that sort of thing.  We have two other biologists onboard, both biochemists.  The rest of our science team is comprised of geologists, oceanographers, and marine ecologists.  The technical team covers electronics, sounding and imaging, and a few other areas.  All in all, we have a pretty well-rounded group.”

“It certainly sounds like it.”

“Speaking of which, your arrival has us all a little curious.  Why exactly are we headed for Guyana if the sub is reportedly in Brazil?”

“You don’t know?” Clay asked, with raised eyebrows.

Her blonde hair pulled back into a bun, Lawton shook her head with a serious expression.  “No.  All we know is that we were ordered to pull out in the middle of our project, without much explanation.  We were told to prepare to receive you and head straight for Guyana.  We were assuming you would fill us in.”

Clay looked at Caesare.  “We have a Chinese corvette class warship sitting in the middle of Guyana, which has been idle for some time.  It appears we’re not the only ones interested in finding out what it’s doing there.”

“Corvette class?” Lawton exclaimed.  “What’s a corvette doing in the Atlantic?”

Caesare shrugged.  “Beats us.  They’re new, with a pretty stealthy hull design to boot.  Yet this one was being spied upon by the Russian sub.”

“How long has it been there?”

Borger spoke up.  “At least a few months from what we can see from the ARGUS.”

Lawton’s looked at him with surprise.  “You have access to the ARGUS?”

“We do.”

“I’m impressed.  Do you have the data with you?”

Borger smiled at her.  “I sure do.  Shall I fire it up?”

“Please.”

Once logged in, Borger accessed the data on his external drive and brought up some of the detailed overhead shots he had shown the guys during their call with Langford.

They were examining an overhead shot of the corvette when Lawton leaned closer to the wide screen that Borger was borrowing.  “How close can you zoom in?”

“Pretty close.”  He used his mouse as they zoomed in, stopping to reposition the frame so that it came in on the middle of the ship.  The extreme detail was incredible.  They could see the anti-ship armament almost as clearly as if they were standing on the ship itself.

“Wow,” she mumbled.

“The ARGUS is pretty impressive.”

“You’re telling me.”  Lawton tilted her head to compensate for the rotation of the picture.  She glanced at the bottom right corner where the time and date were displayed.  “Midday,” she said.  “Where is everyone?”

“Good question.  I haven’t had time to run a detailed scan yet, but so far I haven’t seen anyone topside.”

“It supposedly came in for repairs.”  Caesare straightened up and folded his arms.  “So far, we can’t see any damage or repair equipment.”

Next to Caesare, Neely Lawton straightened as well.  “It’s not there for repairs.”

Clay and Caesare looked at each other, then back to her.

“Guyana doesn’t have facilities for repairing a ship that size.  I’ve been there.  If anything, its capital, Georgetown, is more of a retail and administrative center.  Its biggest claim to fame is having the CARICOM headquarters there.”

“So, it’s there for something else,” mused Caesare.  “What are Guyana’s primary resources?”

“Rice and sugar exports,” replied Clay, dryly.

“Rice and sugar?”

“And a little timber and gold.  But if that’s what the Chinese were after, they would have come with a freighter, not a warship.  Which means…”

“They’re probably guarding something,” finished Caesare.

“Without anyone being on the ship?”  Borger leaned forward, rotating through the same images taken on different days.  Each picture looked the same, with only a few obscured by the cloud cover.  They all watched Borger continue further back.  He looked up over his shoulder.  “Could it be abandoned?”

Clay shook his head.  “Not with a ship like this.”

Lawton watched, thoughtfully.  “Can we bring it back to present day?”

“Sure.”  Borger complied until he was back at the most recent image.

“Now let’s roll back again at, say, an hour a minute.”

After a few mouse clicks, the video began to advance at an accelerated pace.  The brightness of the hull dimmed several times from patches of clouds.  As they stood, watching silently for several minutes, there was still no sign of anyone.  They could then see the resolution begin to darken across the frame as evening approached.

Less than a minute later, the picture had grown almost completely dark.  The only exception was the faint lights from the modest city of Georgetown, illuminating one by one.

“This is strange,” said Lawton. “I guess I can see why you hijacked our ship.”

Caesare grinned.  “Now you know almost as much as we do.”

Borger spun his chair around to face them.  “I’ll see if I can get more data from the ARGUS and go back even further.  If we can zoom in from the beginning, when it first arrived, we should be able to find out what happened to everyone.”

“And where the Forel came from.”

“Right.”

“I’m assuming the Forel arrived after the corvette.  Something strange is going…” Borger suddenly fell silent as he noticed the expression on Clay and Caesare’s faces change.  Their eyes were wide open, as was Neely Lawton’s.  All three were staring at the screen behind him.  When Borger whipped back around to the monitor, his eyes grew wider than anyone’s.  “Whoa!”

The video was still advancing and had elapsed through the first two hours of darkness, as viewed from the satellite.  That’s when things changed.  At just a couple of hours after darkness, the area around the mysterious warship suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree.

20

“She’s doing what?!”  Chris Ramirez’ jaw dropped open as he sat on one of the boat’s padded bench seats.

Alison took a deep breath and shrugged.  “She’s going.”

Kelly Carlson was leaning against the skipper’s chair with a similar look of surprise.

The boat was a forty-eight foot Prowler catamaran.  Alison still wasn’t a huge fan of the government, but their generous funding certainly helped.  It also meant that Alison’s team had been able to replace their old boat with a larger model: one with more range and less mechanical problems.  The extra room also meant they were able to stay out in the ocean longer without the team feeling like sardines.

“And you’re just going to let her go?” Chris asked, appallingly.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop her now, can I?”

“Ali,” Chris said, with concern.  “I’ve been to South America.  I spent almost three years in Paraguay with the Peace Corps.”

“I know.”

“I’m telling you, South America is a dangerous place.  Unless you’re in a large city, it can be very dangerous!”

Alison didn’t say anything.  She remembered the stories Chris had told her when they’d met.  Especially the one night when their camps were raided, a few people in Chris’ group were nearly kidnapped, and a young woman in another group had been raped by two of Paraguay’s soldiers.  It still made her sick to even think about it.

Kelly crossed her arms and raised one of her feet, resting it on the rung around the bottom of the chair.  “How much do we know about this billionaire guy?”

“He checks out.  And he certainly seems genuine.”

“This is nuts,” Chris muttered, shaking his head.  He knew how strong-willed DeeAnn was and decided to take a different tack: one of practicality.  “How is she even going to talk to Dulce?”

“Lee and Juan are putting together a special vest.  One that’s self-contained.”

“Really.”  Chris rolled his eyes.  “This, from the guys who have to test everything a thousand times?”

“They’re still going to test it…but it will have to be done on the way down.”

“How the hell are they going to do that?”

Alison bit her lip.  “Juan is going with her.”

“What?!”

“He’s going with her.  He’s going to make sure the vest works.  Hopefully, they won’t be gone long.”

“And we’re still going out with Dirk and Sally?”

“Yes, but we’ll go Friday instead.”

Chris turned and looked incredulously at Kelly, who frowned but said nothing.  “Well, I hate to be a downer here,” Chris began, “but you and I both need to go.  Kelly is the captain, so without her we can’t even leave, and Lee is the technical expert.  So…who exactly is staying behind and watching the place?”

“Bruna.”

“Bruna?  She’s part time.”

“She said she can come in every day.  And she can always call on the maintenance crew if there’s a problem.”  Alison was expecting this reaction from Chris.  For months, he and Kelly had worked hard on the details of their groundbreaking trip with Dirk and Sally.  They’d covered everything, and last minute changes could present all kinds of issues.  The most obvious was that the building, not to mention IMIS, would be almost completely unattended.  And without Juan, there would be no one to check and rotate the backup tapes: an important task that had saved their bacon not too long ago.  Juan was also supposed to be on standby in case they had any serious problems out on the open ocean.

Chris shook his head again.  “This could be a real problem, Ali.”

Alison put her hands on her hips.  “Yeah, well what would you have me do then?  Put an ankle monitor on her and forbid her to go?  Maybe I can just get her arrested!”  She stood, glaring at him.  “There is nothing I can do.  Christ, there’s nothing I would want to do!  DeeAnn is afraid for her friend, Chris.  She’s desperately hoping she can help him before it’s too late.  Are any of us seriously suggesting she shouldn’t do that?”

He frowned and dropped his eyes to the floor, embarrassed.  “No.  Of course not.  We’d all do the same.”  He looked back up at her.  “I’m sorry.”  After a moment, he stood up.  “DeeAnn needs our support.  Let’s help her, and then we’ll figure out the logistics.”

Alison finally exhaled with relief.  “Thank you.”

***

Built atop old sugarcane fields, the Mercedita Airport in Puerto Rico was located just three miles outside Ponce, and less than ten miles from the research center.  The airport, after expansion during the Second World War, now served over one hundred thousand passengers annually.

Mateus Alves’ Gulfstream G550 rested motionlessly under the bright sun, taking up almost a third of the wide lot reserved on the north side of the airport.  The door remained open, with a short set of stairs in place, as Alves arrived in an expensive, black sedan.  The driver exited quickly and opened the back door.  He stood, waiting while Alves and his assistant Carolina stepped out into the heat.

They immediately made their way across the concrete lot to the stairs.  Alves climbed up and stepped into the Gulfstream’s plush, air-conditioned cabin just as his cell phone rang.

He stepped in front of one of the cool vents and retrieved the small phone from his pocket.  “Hello?”

“Mr. Alves,” said the voice on the other end.  “This is DeeAnn Draper.  I wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to join you.”

“That’s wonderful, Ms. Draper,” he replied, enthusiastically.  “I’m very happy to hear that.  How long will you need to prepare?”

“We can be there tomorrow morning.”

If Alves was surprised, he didn’t show it.  “I’m very grateful to you and your colleagues.  What can I do to provide assistance?  Perhaps send a car?”

“We should be fine getting there.  But yes, we will need a few things.  First and foremost, we’ll need about forty pounds of food.  All vegetables.  Mostly green leaves, but as much kale and celery as you can find.  And lots of berries.”

“Of course,” Alves answered. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes.  We’ll need a large cage.  Gorillas can become very excitable in strange environments.  Dulce will need a cage to travel in, with something soft to sit on inside.  And I need to be able to sit next to her.”

Alves nodded.  “Yes, yes, of course.  We’ll find a way to make it happen.  We’ll be ready for you both.”

“Actually there will be three of us.  One of our engineers is coming too.”

“Excellent.  We’re happy to have him.  We will be ready for all three of you then.  Please do not hesitate to call if you require anything else.”

“I think that will do it,” DeeAnn replied.  “I suspect you’ll have your hands full with that cage.”

Alves chuckled.  “All right then, Ms. Draper.  We shall see you soon.  Thank you again.”

He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.  He glanced at Carolina before looking past a set of white leather seats and couch to the square object at the rear of the cabin.

A large cage had already been installed.

21

“What in the hell is that?”

Everyone was staring at the screen, puzzled by what they were seeing.  The Chinese corvette ship was suddenly illuminated, bathed in bright lights.  Figures could be seen appearing from below deck and quickly lowering a long gangplank to the dock.

Yet, what was really perplexing was the stream of lights that appeared from out of the dense jungle less than a mile from shore.  It was a stream of…headlights.

Borger zoomed in as far as he could.  Each set of headlights shone brightly against the vehicles in front of them.  Trucks.

Several more from Neely Lawton’s research team had joined them on the far side of the room now and stood observing over their shoulders as everyone watched the trucks back up against the gangplank.  One by one, the men from the ship retrieved dozens of crates from the trucks and carried them below deck.

“What are they doing?”

“Unloading something,” Clay said, hesitatingly.

After less than fifteen minutes, it was over.  The transfer of crates was complete and the bright lights abruptly disappeared.  The only lights left were those of the half dozen trucks, which appeared to refuel before heading back into the blackness of the jungle.

Clay and Caesare exchanged looks again.  “Well, that’s not normal.”

Clay turned to Borger.  “Will, we need to find out how long this has been happening.”  He turned back to Caesare.  “And we need to call Langford.”

***

Given everything Admiral Langford had seen during his career, he didn’t surprise easily.  However, Clay and Caesare managed to accomplish that more often than he liked.

“You’ve got to be kidding?”  Langford leaned forward onto his desk, the phone pressed to his ear.

“No, sir,” replied Clay.

“Any idea what was in the crates?”

Clay shook his head on the other end.  “None, sir.  Borger might be able to enhance the image, but the crates looked sealed so I doubt it will show much more.”

“And how many were there?”

“Forty-eight.”

“So, let me get this straight.  We have a warship sitting in downtown Georgetown which does nothing all day, but it mysteriously receives and loads something onboard in the middle of the night, from out of the jungle.”

“Yes, sir.  That’s about it.  Borger’s working through it now to get us a timeline.  We’re going to have to get another dump from the ARGUS data first, which is going to take a while.  As far as we can tell, both the corvette and the Forel sub have been here a while.”

Langford leaned back again, thinking.  “This is becoming damn peculiar.”

“We agree, sir.”

“Okay, go through everything as quickly as you can.  Call me back by oh-seven-hundred and give me an update.  I need to bring this up in tomorrow’s security briefing.  Something tells me we’re not going to like what we find out.”

“Yes, sir.  We should be nearing Guyana by sunrise.”

“Good,” nodded Langford.  “Make sure you and Caesare are ready to go ashore.  I want to know what that ship is taking onboard.”

22

Chris and Alison stopped the large van in front of the Gulfstream jet and saw Mateus Alves in the doorway.  Excitedly, he began to descend the stairs with his assistant close behind.

Alison climbed out and then stepped back to pull the large side door open, sliding it smoothly backward.  A moment later, DeeAnn’s head emerged from the inside and she stepped down onto the ground.  In her hand was a chain, which revealed itself to be attached to Dulce’s collar when the gorilla curiously peeked outside.  DeeAnn promptly reached in and picked Dulce up into her arms, then turned to look at the airplane.

Unfortunately, she had no way to communicate since she’d left her original translation vest back at the facility.  After explaining to Dulce where they were going, the small gorilla became very excited.  She wanted to help, but she was equally excited at the prospect of making a new friend.  Dulce had known other primates, including monkeys, but it was in Mexico under horrendous living conditions.  There was no telling what kind of trauma or cognitive associations she still carried with her.  Animals in a panic, especially gorillas, were very unpredictable.  Dulce had seemed relatively calm during the preparations.  Now watching Dulce’s eyes nervously examine the large plane, she wondered if she was making a mistake.  Especially when she felt Dulce’s arms tighten around her.

Behind her, Juan climbed out carrying a medium-sized cardboard box with the newly designed vest inside.  In his other hand, he carried a large suitcase filled with computer equipment, as well as his clothes.

Leaving the driver’s seat, Chris circled the back of the van and came up behind the others, grabbing two more suitcases for DeeAnn.

Alves and Carolina had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, waiting politely.  Alison turned to DeeAnn.

“You’re sure about this.”

“Yes,” DeeAnn replied, peering over Dulce’s small, furry head.  “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Alison smiled but didn’t reply.

“Don’t worry, Ali.  We’re not staying long.  Our home is here now.”

Alison maintained her smile and reached out, gently rubbing Dulce’s head.  The small gorilla purred and said something, but it went unanswered.  She looked at DeeAnn and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around both of them.

“You have the number for the boat’s satellite phone, right?”

“I sure do.”

Chris stepped up beside them, pulling the two bags.  “Everybody ready?”

All eyes turned to DeeAnn, who in turn looked down at Dulce.  The two then walked across the small tarmac.

As they neared the plane, a male crewmember emerged and quickly climbed down the stairs, waiting to take their bags.

Mateus Alves smiled warmly as they approached, glancing down at Dulce.  “Welcome, Ms. Draper.  We are very grateful for your assistance.  We have accommodated all your requests and hope you will be comfortable.”

“I’m sure we will be,” she agreed.  “May I introduce Juan Diaz, one of our computer whizzes.”

Alves smiled again, revealing a perfect set of teeth.  “Welcome, Mr. Diaz.  We are very happy to have you join us.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir.  Anything for Ms. Draper.”

Alves laughed.  “Indeed.”  He then turned to Alison.  “Ms. Shaw, thank you again for allowing this brief interruption to your team’s work.  You are very generous.”

Alison smiled and shook his hand.  He probably didn’t realize that she had no choice.

The crewmember took the bags from Chris and promptly returned up the stairs, disappearing inside the plane.

Alves clasped his hands together.  “Are you ready to depart?”

“We are.”  DeeAnn turned, winked once more at Alison, and followed Carolina up the stairs.  Juan stepped in behind them, leaving Alves standing with Alison and Chris.

“We’ll have her back soon, Ms. Shaw.  You have my word.”

Alves climbed up the stairs after them, with noticeable difficulty.  With one final wave, the white metal door was pulled closed.

***

DeeAnn was pleasantly surprised to see the size of the cage.  It was larger than usual, which provided a much more comfortable place for Dulce during the flight.  After takeoff, DeeAnn immediately slid over onto the couch and gingerly reached in through the bars.  Dulce quickly placed her dark hand inside DeeAnn’s.

Alves sat in one of the nearby leather seats, observing the connection between the two.  “She loves you.”

DeeAnn smiled without looking away.  “It’s mutual.”

“It’s quite obvious.”  Alves leaned forward.  “I must apologize, Ms. Draper.  I’m afraid I don’t know as much about your program as Luke did.”  He suddenly caught and corrected himself.  “I mean, as much as Luke does.”

DeeAnn displayed no reaction to the mistake.  “I hadn’t been aware he was following our work.”

“Well, forgive me if I sound improper, but I suspect he’s been following you as much as your work.”

DeeAnn looked up abruptly at Alves, considering his words before letting her eyes drop.  “I wasn’t even sure where he was.”

Alves shrugged, in a supportive gesture.  “I obviously don’t know about your history, but I sense he cares a great deal about you.  Of that, I am sure.”

“You do know this is a long shot, right?” DeeAnn said, motioning to Dulce.  “I’ll be honest, even if we can find your capuchin monkey, I’m having a hard time imagining what information he might have that would make a difference.”

Alves’ eyes softened.  “I suppose I should be candid as well.  I’ve never had any children, Ms. Draper.  And I’ve become quite fond of Luke.  His passion and the righteousness he feels for protecting others, especially animals, made me come to feel for him as I would for a son.  I’ve never seen that level of compassion in a young man before.  Many of his beliefs reminded me of why I decided to establish the preserve in the first place.  You’ve known Luke much longer than I have, but our goal is the same.  I will do nearly anything to find him, even if it’s a long shot.”

“That makes two of us.”

After a momentary silence, they both turned around and watched as Juan laid the new vest on a small table in front of his seat.  He proceeded to attach two cables to the vest, plugging the other end of one into a power outlet.  The other cable went into his laptop.  After a short wait, he focused on the small screen and began typing.

Lee and Juan had given DeeAnn a rundown on the vest before they headed to the airport.  It was larger than her old model, and heavier.  It was unavoidable since more equipment had to be built in.  The majority of the hardware was distributed carefully around the waist area, very similar to the waterproof version they had designed for Alison.

The difference with DeeAnn’s new vest, though, was the batteries.  It had more than four times the number of batteries to allow it to work as a completely self-contained unit, thanks to Steve Caesare.  The prototype batteries he had sent over had a much higher energy capacity than the lithium variety.  Another benefit was avoiding the need for any wireless transmission, reducing energy consumption even further.  Instead, the smaller, slower processor would do all the work to communicate directly with Dulce, using the existing translation data that IMIS had already identified back in their lab.

One major limitation that both vests suffered from was line of sight.  There was not only a microphone and speaker on the front of DeeAnn’s vest, but a small camera as well.  Both vests had to “see” to translate.  Whether observing dolphins or gorillas, it was the only way to allow the computers inside the vests to correctly identify and translate their expressions and words.  Alison had already seen this challenge when testing the underwater unit.  It would prove to be just as limiting for DeeAnn and Dulce.

Juan studied his screen and continued typing.  Neither Lee nor Juan wanted to alarm Alison and DeeAnn, but their concern over those translation errors was growing.

Juan leaned back in his plush chair and continued watching the information scroll down his screen.  So far, so good.  He glanced up and noticed the others watching him.

“A couple more hours and we can do some tests,” he said to DeeAnn.

DeeAnn smiled and tried to remain calm.  She realized at that moment the terrible mistake she’d made with Dulce.  The IMIS system had been so astonishingly effective at translating between herself and Dulce, far better than any other technique.  Because of it, DeeAnn hadn’t taught Dulce more than a few words in sign language.  And without the vest, she couldn’t speak with Dulce, even at a basic level.  She was completely paralyzed.

To make matters worse, Dulce was beginning to look very nervous inside her cage.

23

Admiral Langford sat at one end of a large, polished conference room table, joined by Secretary of Defense Merl Miller, Secretary of State Douglas Bartman, and Stan Griffith, the National Security Advisor.  A large monitor behind Langford displayed a frozen satellite image that he’d received from Borger.

“How the hell did we miss this?”  Miller was the first to speak.

“According to the CIA, the analyst tracking the corvette was inexperienced.  China and Venezuela have grown very close recently, after establishing some bi-lateral trade agreements.  And Venezuela had announced some military exercises.  The analyst thought the corvette was part of a cooperative training maneuver.  But instead, the corvette continued on to Guyana before reporting mechanical problems and pulling in at Georgetown.  At the time, the explanation was assumed to be authentic.”

“And it just sat there for over four months?”

Langford nodded.

“Christ!  Did they even bother to check on it?”  Miller held up his hand before Langford could respond.  “Forget I said that.  We’re talking about the CIA.”

The other three men grinned even though it wasn’t a joke.

Bartman leaned forward.  “And a few weeks after this ship arrives, our mystery sub shows up.  How did the Russians find out about it?”

“We don’t know.  But we do know there was equipment waiting when the Chinese showed up in Georgetown, likely from Venezuela.”

“The trucks and earth moving equipment,” Miller murmured.  “So the big question is…what are they bringing back out of the jungle?”

They all looked back up at the large monitor.  The frozen screen was displaying a close-up picture of the crate transfer aboard the corvette.

“And this has been going on for over five weeks?”  Griffith inquired.

“Just about.”  Langford tapped his laptop and the video began to advance in slow motion.

“How about drugs?” Miller offered.

Griffith shook his head.  “It wouldn’t take five weeks to bring down a shipment of drugs.”

“Unless it was a big shipment.”

“No,” Bartman agreed.  “China has more than enough domestic production of drugs.  They wouldn’t need to come all the way over here for more.”

“Well, I’m betting it ain’t sugar!” Miller shot back, sarcastically.

“What else do they have?” asked Griffith.

Bartman was watching Langford and knew what his colleague’s answer would be even before he said it.

“They do have gold.”

Griffith raised his bushy eyebrows.  “Gold?”

Bartman considered the idea.  “Guyana is a small exporter of gold.  It’s a highly valuable commodity and it’s portable.  It might also explain the extreme security.”

“Wait a minute,” Griffith interrupted.  “Guyana is a gold exporter.  If they already sell it to other countries, why would they care about keeping shipments to China secret?”

Langford shrugged.  “Maybe they’ve discovered a big deposit that they don’t want anyone else to know about.”

The room became silent as each of the men considered the possibility.  China had been hoarding gold over the last several years, from all over the world.  They had also been buying up mines in foreign countries.  There was something they wanted gold for, and badly.  No one knew why, but some suspected China was planning a major global economic event.

“Then why not bring something bigger?” asked Miller.  “Like a freighter?  And why not more trucks?  Whatever it is, they could get it out a hell of a lot faster.”

“And attract a lot more attention.”

“Well, they evidently got the Russian’s attention.”

Langford sat, thinking.  “On the other hand, maybe it’s something immaterial.”

“You mean something Guyana’s government doesn’t care about?”

“Right.”

“Or,” said Bartman, from the other side of the table, “they do care about it, but the Chinese has given them an offer they can’t refuse.”  He paused and leaned back in his chair.  “Well, at least sending the Bowditch was a good call.”  The Secretary of State didn’t need to explain his statement.  The relationship between the United States and China had become increasingly tenuous in recent years, to put it mildly.  A more accurate word, which only a few dared to use, was eroded.  The last thing the U.S. needed was to incite more military tension.  That was why Langford had sent the Bowditch, a science vessel.

The conference phone on the table suddenly beeped.  Langford glanced at the others as he reached for the phone.  “I thought there was someone else we might want to have chime in on the subject.”  Langford pushed a button on the keyboard.  “Langford.”

“I have her on the line, Admiral,” his secretary’s voice came over the intercom.

“Put her through.”

After a moment, the line clicked.  Langford cleared his throat and spoke up.  “Good morning, Doctor Lokke.  Are you there?”

“Yes, Admiral.  I am.  I’m sorry for being tardy.”

“That’s quite all right.  Have you had time to review the information I sent you?”

“I have indeed.”

“Excellent.  Standby while I add you.”  Langford leaned forward and studied the complicated phone’s keypad for a moment, pushing one of the larger buttons.  He looked up at the large monitor and saw Kathryn Lokke’s video feed appear as a smaller window, overlaying the wide still frame from his own computer.

Kathryn Lokke stared into her camera.  Her light complexion and short reddish-brown hair filled most of her window.

“Doctor Lokke, allow me to introduce Douglas Bartman, our Secretary of State.  I believe you already know the rest of the group.”

Lokke smiled curtly.  “Yes, I do.  Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bartman.”

The Secretary nodded as Langford began.  “Doctor, we were just discussing the video from Georgetown.  More specifically, the crates being loaded onto the corvette ship and what they might contain.  Drugs or agricultural commodities don’t appear practical, but we’re military men.  You’re the expert, and we’d like to hear your opinion.”

Dr. Kathryn Lokke was the Director of the United States Geological Survey, the largest scientific and research department on the planet.  She had taken over the department somewhat recently and had worked previously with Langford and others on his staff, under rather difficult circumstances.  Langford thought very highly of her, as did the President.  He also knew she was not someone to be trifled with.

Lokke took a deep breath, studying the footage on her own screen.  “Well, it’s not a liquid or gas, or else they would be using cylinders.  I also agree it’s not drugs.  I doubt the Chinese would sit around for several months loading drugs on a ship.  Drugs are moved quickly.  As for other commodities, the quantity would have to be significant.  But they’re not, especially for someone like China.”

“What about a commodity like gold?” Langford asked.

She frowned, thinking.  “Gold is less a commodity than it is money.  And there is a lot of mining going on in South America.  But no, I doubt that’s the answer, either.”

Griffith squinted.  “Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure,” Lokke shrugged.  “But gold is extremely dense and heavy, and those crates are relatively large.  If they were filled with gold, there would be no way two men could carry it.  Unless, of course, the quantities inside were much smaller than the crates, or if the men were twelve feet tall.”

Langford’s lip curled in his familiar way.  “So either smaller amounts or it’s something else.”

“I think it’s something else.  Why put small amounts of gold in larger crates?  It would be a waste of space, especially on a relatively small ship.  Besides, there’s a bigger problem.  Mining gold, or even silver, for that matter, requires refining to get it into smaller blocks for shipping.  But a refinery requires a lot of space and energy.  Not something you would see in the jungle or on a mountain.  It’s not practical.”

“So we rule out gold.”

“Yes,” she nodded.  “Silver and platinum too.”

“Well, we know they’re doing something.” Miller said.  “They took up some earth movers, and they’ve been bringing something down ever since.”

“Earth movers?” Lokke asked, with a raised brow.  “I didn’t catch that part.”

Langford chimed in.  “Yes, a few of them, as far we can determine.”

“Hmm…”  The men could see Kathryn Lokke lean back, thinking.  She remained quiet for a long time before speaking up.  “There is something that comes to mind.  Something that might be far more strategic than gold.  REEs.”

“What’s an REE?”

“Rare earth elements,” Lokke explained, leaning forward again.  She was surprised at their confused looks.

Langford looked at the others then back to the screen.  “Fill us in.”

“Rare earth elements, or REEs, are a group of seventeen specific elements on the periodic table which have become the equivalent of a modern day gold rush.  These elements have very special properties that make them extremely valuable in a variety of modern technologies, especially technologies with military applications: things from lasers, to fiber optics, to missile guidance systems.  These elements are also essential to many technological advances that make our modern way of life possible.”

Griffith spoke up.  “So they’re rare.”

“Actually, no,” Lokke answered.  “They’re quite plentiful.  In fact, cerium for example, is the twenty-fifth most abundant element on the planet.  What’s rare about them is not their existence: it’s their concentrations.  You see, REEs are common, but in deposits that are quite dispersed, which means uneconomical for mining.  However, as modern technologies have advanced, rare earth mining has become more economically feasible; so much so that they’ve become a very important piece of political leverage, especially to China.”

Langford suddenly remembered.  “You’re talking about China’s export ban.”

“Exactly.  China has been absorbing rare earth mines for decades.  So much that they ended up cornering the market by the early 2000s.  No one cared because China, the world’s largest exporter, sold them to the rest of the world as they did with many other commodities.  But…” Lokke said.  “That changed in 2009.”

Bartman frowned.  “What happened in 2009?”

“China stopped exporting them,” Langford answered.  “Or should we say, they restricted them.”

“Right,” said Lokke.  “In a big way.  Suddenly the folly of allowing China to become the primary owner of rare earth metals became clear.  Dozens of uneconomic rare earth projects, which had been abandoned around the world, were instantly in the spotlight again.  Today, nearly all first world countries are desperately searching for rare earth deposits and trying to establish new mines.”

Langford watched Lokke on the monitor.  He could see the wheels in her head turning.  “So you’re saying the Chinese may have found a deposit in Guyana?”

Kathryn Lokke rubbed her finger gingerly back and forth across her lips.  “Maybe.  Or maybe they found ‘The Deposit.’”

“I thought you said they were all over the world?”

“They are.  But there’s something else.  One of the early researchers of rare earths in the 1800s was a man named Delafontaine.  I think Matt was his first name, or maybe Marc.  Anyway, he studied them for over forty years and even developed a new form of spectroscopy.  He also wrote a lot of papers on the subject.  One of which was an idea on what he called “The Deposit.”  Remember, rare earths are common.  In fact, many of them exist together, but always in varying densities.  In other words, some deposits are denser than others.  In several cases dating back to the early twentieth century, they found deposits that had surprisingly low concentrations.  What Delafontaine posited was that based simply on arithmetic, or perhaps chance, there was probably another deposit somewhere out there of unusually high density.  One that would be ‘off the charts’ compared to what’s already been found.  To him, it was mathematically inevitable.”

“And was it ever found?”

Lokke shook her head.  “No.  But considering how dependent the world is on technology today, if the deposit did exist and was found, the strategic and economic value of it could be incalculable.”

Everyone quietly stared back at the frozen video frame on the monitor, or more specifically, at the crates being transferred.

“Are you suggesting this is what the Chinese found in Guyana?  ‘The Deposit?’”

“I’m simply pointing out a possibility.  One that is remote at best.  Although I will say, rare earth searches are being conducted everywhere.  In many respects, the geography of our continents is now pretty well mapped, all except one: South America.  And most of South America is completely covered in dense jungle.  So, if Delafontaine’s deposit did exist, South America would be the one place that could still hide it.”

24

“Okay,” Langford pressed his fingers together in front of his face.  “If this is true….if the Chinese found a special rare earth deposit, then what are in those crates of theirs?”

“Rocks.”

“Rocks?”

Lokke nodded.  “Most likely.  Rocks that would look common to the average person, but to an expert they would be covered with signs of very dense and rare element content.”

Griffith spoke up.  “Would they need any special equipment or facilities?  What about a refinery?”

“Possibly not.  Rare earths do require an extraction process, but if the concentrations were really dense, you might only need basic equipment.  Equipment like bulldozers or land movers.  You could get them out quickly and worry about extraction and refinement later.”  Lokke noted the looks on the men’s faces.  “Remember, this is just a theory.  The Chinese could very well be after something else, but a big rare earth find would fill a lot of the holes.”

“Okay,” said Miller.  “Let’s step back.  Maybe the Chinese discovered a big deposit and maybe they didn’t.  If they didn’t, what else could it be?  We’ve already ruled out gold and other precious metals, plus agricultural possibilities.  What else could be that valuable to them?”

“Maybe they found the Lost Ark,” smiled Griffith.  The others around the table chuckled.

Langford stopped and thought for a moment.  “Is that possible?”

“What, finding the Ark?”

“No,” frowned the Admiral.  “Something else.  Could it be some unknown archeological discovery?”  He turned toward the screen.  “Dr. Lokke?”

She shrugged.  “It could certainly be a historical item. Although that’s probably a stretch.  If it was truly significant, I doubt the Guyana government would sit idly by while it was deconstructed and taken away piece by piece.  Besides, what would the Chinese want with a piece of some Mayan type of history?  I’m not an archeologist, but even a hidden temple or a tiny city couldn’t be disassembled in a few months.  Nor would it explain the need for earth moving equipment.  Unless, of course, you were trying to destroy it, but that makes even less sense.”

“What about some kind of ancient treasure?”

Bartman shook his head.  “Aren’t most ancient treasures made of gold or silver?”

“Right.  Again, too heavy,” conceded Langford.  “I guess we’re back to the rare earths theory.”

Kathryn Lokke peered directly into her camera.  “You know, the more I think of REEs, the more sense it makes.  The Chinese have established a veritable stranglehold on the rest of the world with these elements.  This has given them tremendous economic and technological leverage for a long time, even while other sources are found and brought online.  So, if there was a super dense deposit out there, and I was the Chinese, I would grab it pretty darn quick.”

Miller turned to Langford.  “Okay, so either it is elements or it isn’t.  Either way, we need to get a look into those crates, and fast.”

Langford nodded.  “I’m working on that.”

“What do you mean?”

Langford checked his watch.  “I have two men who should be on the ground soon.”

Miller stared at Langford for a moment before grinning wryly.  “And which two men would that be?”

“John Clay and Steve Caesare.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

***

The small city of Georgetown was clearly visible against the bright green background of Guyana’s rain-forested mountains.  The Bowditch was still miles away, but by now was visible to anyone on shore, including the crew of the corvette.

Standing outside the bridge, Captain Krogstad lowered his binoculars and peered at the receding shape of the Oceanhawk helicopter, headed well south of the city.  Next to him, Commander Lawton stared in the same direction.

Between that night’s observations and further verification from Borger’s footage, they had confirmed something sizable was indeed being loaded onto the Chinese ship.   However, the crates were well sealed, leaving no visual clues as to what was inside.  They had also verified that the ship had arrived just over four months prior, and while they could not achieve a positive confirmation, they suspected the Russian sub had arrived just a few weeks after the corvette.  All the while, sitting quietly and watching.

Lawton was surprised to feel a tinge of worry for John Clay and Steve Caesare, who were both on the helicopter.  She reluctantly admitted to herself that Caesare, while having a certain brashness to his personality, was also somewhat charming.

She straightened up taller next to the captain and quickly forced the thought out of her mind.  They were grown men.   They would be fine.  Besides, she had a lot of work to do.

***

The chance of not being seen was almost zero, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be subtle.  As the chopper lifted off the ground and headed back out to sea for the Bowditch, Clay and Caesare hefted their packs up and over their shoulders.  It would be a long hike into town, but the early morning coolness meant they would have a head start before the humidity and heat really set in.

They covered the first five miles in less than an hour, which was surprisingly good time considering they had to stay off the road and out of sight.  They were also traveling in the most casual clothes they had, knowing they would need to blend in quickly when they reached Georgetown.  Both were dressed in shorts, yet while Clay wore a comfortable, dark green polo shirt, Caesare wore a rather loud button up.  It was the most casual clothing they could find and from Borger’s suitcase no less.

Together they continued weaving in and out of the trees, picking up more moisture from the thick foliage than from the air.  Both men stopped several times at the sound of a passing automobile, which was usually a truck headed north from New Amsterdam, carrying an early morning load of commercial goods.

When they neared the town, they crossed over the railroad and came in high up along Embankment Road.

Georgetown had a population of 750,000.  However, it was the half million tourists it received annually which allowed Clay and Caesare to blend in.  Originally settled as a Dutch colony, Georgetown was invaded and captured by the British in 1781, primarily due to its location at the base of the Demerara River.  After decades of political friction between the local governing body and the policies of King George, the town finally received its city status in 1842.  The wards and streets were named after the Dutch, French, and English, who administered the city through different periods of its history.  As a result, and perhaps more notably, Guyana became the only country in South America with English as an official language.

It took them just under two hours to reach the city’s downtown district and to find a small obscure hotel.  Leaving their packs in the room, they promptly found a taxi and slid into the back seat.

The old driver peered at them both from the rearview mirror.  “Good afternoon,” he said, with a hint of a British accent.

“Hello, Mr.…Brennan,” Caesare said, leaning forward and glancing at the driver’s credentials overhead.

From under a thick mane of white hair, the driver turned and looked back over his shoulder while Clay slammed the back door shut.  “Where can I take you lads?”

The two looked at each other in the back seat.  “We’re…new in town.  Thought we’d take a tour of the city.”

“Splendid.”  Those words were music to Brennan’s ears.  He grinned and set the meter before glancing over his shoulder and turning out into the lane.  “Are you two with CARICOM?”

CARICOM was short for “Caribbean Community” and was an agreement to improve economic relations and foreign policies for fifteen Caribbean member nations.  Guyana, and more specifically Georgetown, had the distinction of housing the CARICOM headquarters since its inception.

Clay shook his head at the question.  “Afraid not.  We’re here for a business meeting and taking a couple of personal days first.”

The driver nodded and turned right onto Mandela Avenue, heading north.  “Well, you couldn’t find a better city for a holiday if you like the ocean and warm water.  My family moved to Georgetown when I was six, ‘course it looked a spot different back then.  Been here ever since.”

Clay and Caesare sat quietly for the next several minutes while the driver rattled off interesting tidbits about the city, including a drive-by of both the Georgetown Lighthouse and their National Museum.  It was only when they’d reached the water and the renowned Georgetown “Sea Wall” that Clay spoke up and asked the older man to turn left.

He obliged and took them along the wall, which eventually curved onto Main Street and headed south along the Demerara River.

Brennan had been driving a taxi for over thirty years and couldn’t remember the last time he had a couple of fares quite like these two in his cab.  He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something different about them.  He watched his passengers from the mirror as he pointed out several of the city’s most notable landmarks.  Curiously, the two men in the back looked at very few of them.

After turning south, the two suddenly paid significantly more interest to the surrounding area.  It was the area with the oldest and most rundown buildings in all of Georgetown.  But it was when they made their way toward the tall bridge that the men really perked up.  Their eyes were locked on the gray Chinese warship as they passed.

After snapping a few pictures, they both turned forward again.  “What kind of meeting are you chaps here for?”  Brennan asked.

The edge of Caesare’s lips curled as he glanced at Clay.  The driver’s question had a knowing tone.  “It’s more of a convention actually,” Caesare answered.

“I see,” replied Brennan, still watching them.  “What kind of convention, if you don’t mind my query?”

“Potato chips.”

Brennan raised his eyebrows.  “Potato chips?”

“Yes.  I believe you call them ‘crisps.’”

The driver sat upright and peered in the mirror at Caesare, who was now grinning widely.

Brennan suddenly laughed.  “You’re funning with me.”

Clay reached forward and dropped a large bill onto the seat.  “Mr. Brennan, perhaps you can find a quiet place to pull over.”

The driver’s expression changed from curiosity to nervousness.  “Sure,” he said, glancing down at the protruding microphone attached to his two-way radio.  At the next block, he turned left and circled back onto the busy four-lane road of Mandela Avenue.  “Any place in particular?” he asked, scanning the road.

“Here is fine,” Clay answered, as he reached behind himself.

Brennan’s apprehension grew as he quickly pulled to the side and stopped the car.  He didn’t know that the object Clay was reaching for was simply his wallet.  Clay retrieved two bills and returned it to his back pocket.

“Mr. Brennan, you seem an intelligent man.  It may not come as a big surprise that my friend and I would like to remain as ‘unmemorable’ to you as possible.”

“Okay.”

Clay smirked.  “And please relax.  We’re not going to hurt you.”

Brennan took a deep breath and calmly breathed out.  “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”  He was more relieved than they knew.  Despite their tourist apparel, it was clear to Brennan that these two men had an edge about them.  They were polite, but he suspected his two passengers could be as physical as they needed to be.

“Well,” Brennan said, with a humorous tone.  “I presume you chaps aren’t looking for a store to buy chips.”

Both Clay and Caesare smiled.  “Not exactly.”  Clay handed the two bills to the driver.  “We’re more interested in getting some information.”

The old man noted the money in Clay’s hand and took it calmly.  It was his turn to smirk.  “I suspect it has something to do with the Chinese ship then?”

“It does.”

Brennan finally shook his head and chuckled.  “Bloody hell,” he said, running a hand through his white hair.  “I thought for a minute you boys were going to off me.”

Caesare laughed.  “Your tour wasn’t that bad.”

The driver laughed as well.  “Well, I’m happy to know that’s settled.”  He put the car into park and shifted his body sideways to get a better look at the two in the back.  “So what about that ship are you keen to find out?  The bloody thing has been sitting here for a long time and the lot of us has been wondering why.”

“So, you don’t know?”

“No one does.  No one can get near it.  What you saw was as close as anyone is allowed to get.”  Brennan looked at them suspiciously.  “And at night, no one is allowed on these streets at all.”

“Why’s that?”  Caesare asked.

Brennan looked around outside the car and lowered his voice.  “Because of the trucks.”

“What trucks?”

The driver grinned at that.  “Come now, boys.  I reckon you wouldn’t be here unless you knew a bit about the trucks yourself.”

Clay acquiesced.  “We know a bit, but not much.  Do you know where the trucks are going?”

“No.  That entire part of the jungle is now off-limits according to the government.  It has been ever since that ship arrived.”  Brennan watched his two passengers exchange looks.  “Do you know what they’re carrying on those trucks?” asked the taller of the two.

“Nah, no one does.  Except our government, of course.”

“So, they’re involved?”

“Oh yes,” Brennan said, almost sarcastically.  “Something changed when that Chinese boat arrived.  Many of us have noticed that our dear, old government officials are driving a lot of spanking new automobiles around now.  And their families are too.  But that’s not all.  There’s a lot of new money floating around lately, which is helping just about everyone.  Hospitals, schools, the ferry, large stores, even small shop owners see it.  The government has even been talking about paying down our debt and reducing taxes.  And I can tell you lads this, that’s something I haven’t heard before in my lifetime.”

25

“I think we’re ready.”  Juan stood up with the vest, unplugging both cables.  He crossed the small cabin and stood next to DeeAnn, who looked up eagerly.  From inside her cage, Dulce also gazed up from her half-eaten clump of celery.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

DeeAnn was immediately up off her seat.  Juan held out the vest while she slipped her arms through one at a time.  He then clipped both sides together and cinched the large nylon strap.

“How does it feel?”

She wiggled back and forth.  “Good.  But heavy.”

“It’s only a few pounds heavier but probably feels like a lot more.”  Juan turned her around and reached under the vest’s edges to make sure nothing was caught.  With his fingertips, he felt for the wires under the thick material and made sure they traced cleanly back to the batteries.  He turned her back around.  “All right.”

They both looked down at Dulce, who was still watching.

“Here’s the on-off switch,” he said, pointing to the front left side.  “Pretty close to where the old one was.  The microphone is here, as far from the speaker as we could get it.  And the video camera is right here in the middle.”  He stepped back and pointed his arm straight at her torso.  “Try to face Dulce straight on when you talk to her.  Otherwise the camera may not pick it up.”

“Okay.”  DeeAnn placed her finger lightly on the power switch.  “Now?”

Juan nodded.  “Now.”

The switch clicked easily and a soft blue LED light illuminated the plastic switch.  To minimize power consumption, it was the only indicator light on the vest.

Behind them, near the front, Alves rose from his seat and shuffled closer to watch.

With one more nod from Juan, DeeAnn cleared her throat and spoke loudly.  “Hello, Dulce.”

Her grin faded quickly when nothing came back out of the speaker.  She started to say something else when Juan cut her off, motioning to her to stay quiet.   Finally, almost thirty seconds later, the speaker broadcast the familiar pattern.

Dulce quickly rose to her feet with a giant grin.  She gripped the steel bars and rocked back and forth while replying.  The delay was as long as DeeAnn’s.

Me love Mommy.

DeeAnn exhaled with obvious relief.  “How are you?” she said, waiting.

Me happy now.

DeeAnn smiled and turned to Juan, who winked back at her.  “Not bad for a couple of yahoos.”

They both laughed.  It was a favorite phrase of Lee’s.  Next to both of them, Alves was also grinning widely.

“Well done, Mr. Diaz.  Well done.”

“Thank you.  I’m not done, but this will do until we get to your place.  I’ll see if I can tweak it a little more, but the slowness is mostly due to the system’s limited processing power.”

“Understandable,” Alves nodded, as if he understood what Juan had just said.  “But still impressive.”

Both men watched as DeeAnn sat back down onto her seat somewhat awkwardly.  She twisted her body to accommodate the stiff vest and leaned in close to the bars of the cage.  She reached in and grabbed Dulce’s hand.  “Are you okay?”

Yes.  She looked excited.  We fly like bird.

“Yes, we are flying like the birds.”

After a short silence, Dulce seemed to look around curiously.  Me need potty.

DeeAnn nodded and stood back up.  She twisted the small metal knob and swung the door outward.  Dulce was gently led out by DeeAnn’s hand before heading toward the restroom.  “Gentlemen,” she announced.  “We’ll be right back.”

Juan watched them make their way forward to a large door, which DeeAnn held open for Dulce.

He was worried.  One of the strange translation errors had already shown up on the new vest during testing.

He hoped their trip would be short.  And that they could make a difference helping to find DeeAnn’s friend Luke.  Because the errors were increasing.  And if he and Lee couldn’t fix them soon, it had the potential to quickly undo all the translation progress DeeAnn and Dulce had made together.  In other words, IMIS would have to be reprogrammed from scratch.

26

While Clay peered through a pair of 8x30mm military binoculars, Caesare silently unwrapped an energy bar and slipped the foil wrapper deep into his pack.  After making it back to the hotel room and grabbing their gear, they headed west to the edge of town where they waited patiently out of sight.

After the sun went down, the two spotted a building set far enough back for them to be discreet.  They watched a few patrols drive by before quickly passing through the shadows and climbing up the back ladder of the two-story structure.  From the top of the roof, they had a clear, if perhaps distant, view of the Chinese ship, which remained motionless at the water’s edge.

“Anything?”  Caesare took another bite and looked around at the other rooftops, scanning for movement.

“Nope,” Clay said, adjusting the binoculars.  “There isn’t the slightest movement on or inside that ship.  Fascinating.”

Caesare checked the faint red glow of his watch.  “We still have a little while yet.”  After taking another bite of his bar, he looked behind them once more before settling down again below the rim of the roof.  “You know, this reminds me of that time in Haiti.”

Clay smiled from behind the glasses.  “Without the gunfire.”

Caesare lay down and propped a broad arm behind his head.  He then examined the area around him.  “This roof is cleaner too.  It’s like the Ritz.”

Caesare looked up at a large patch of cloud passing overhead.  As it passed by, the stars behind it blinked back into existence one by one.  “I have to admit, John, there are a few things I still miss from the old days.”

“Yeah, same here.”

Neither of them had to say anything.  They still remembered their first few years together very clearly.  Although the mission in Haiti was the turning point for both of them, as well as a few fellow SEAL members.

The real “Operation Uphold Democracy” was very different from how it was explained to the media.  Even though originally designed as a combat mission, it was billed as little more than a peacekeeping operation.  The mission, as understood by the public, was to remove the regime that staged a coup in Haiti a few years earlier and overthrew the country’s president.  What was not known was that the new regime knew something the public didn’t, and as the situation continued to erode, the United States decided it had to neutralize a risk, urgently.

The secret was that the bloody coup had been quietly instigated by the U.S., the very country who was now trying to get rid of a regime that was quickly losing support from its own citizens.  Of course, both the media and the history books would report that the deployment of over twenty thousand peacekeeping troops eventually helped persuade the regime to step down.  However, the truth was far less diplomatic.  The primary driver, known only to a select few, was two Navy SEAL teams who silently found the head of the regime one night and eliminated him.  Yet, while the public was none the wiser, it was the last straw for several of the SEAL team members.  They’d had enough of cleaning up messes, particularly those created by idiotic politicians and an incompetent CIA.

***

Less than an hour later, Clay and Caesare heard what they were looking for, long before they saw them.  And they were right on schedule.  The rumbling of the trucks trudging down the hill in low gear was unmistakable.  It took another several minutes to see the first flashes of headlights through the canopy of trees.  Almost a mile out, the trucks emerged from the forest and reaching the bottom of the hill.  Their engines roared louder as they picked up speed.  Both Clay and Caesare watched intently, their eyes just over the lip of the roof.

There were six again, just as they’d seen on the satellite footage.  All in a tight single file line.  The lead truck veered toward the water, as did the others, and then followed along the river toward the ship.  As they passed the old buildings, Clay and Caesare studied them carefully.

“Three axle and armor plated.  Looks like Ural Typhoons.”

“These guys don’t mess around,” Caesare responded.

“That means protected armor and glass.  And bulletproof tires.  Not what I was hoping for.”

“Yeah, I was hoping for something more like…Chinese quality.”

Clay followed each truck.  “Unfortunately, I don’t think any of these are going to fall apart on us anytime soon.”

Both men fell silent and watched the short line of trucks continue along the river, just as the bright lights came on aboard the corvette ship.  They both remained motionless, with their heads and binoculars barely above the roofline.  They watched the first truck eventually slow, and then turn around.  It backed up into place, stopping at the bottom of the wide gangway.

“No back-up beepers,” mused Caesare.  “Isn’t that illegal?”

As the first truck shifted into park, the rest remained in their single file line, idling with headlights still on.  Moments later, a small group of silhouettes emerged from the dark shroud around the ship to assist with the mysterious crates.

***

After each truck was unloaded, it was driven to a dark building not far from Clay and Caesare.  A tall metal door opened and the rear end of a much larger tanker truck became visible.  One by one, each Ural Typhoon stopped in front of the door for refueling.  What neither Clay nor Caesare had spotted on Borger’s monitor previously was that while each truck’s tank was being refilled, more empty crates emerged from the darkened building and were quickly loaded into the back of each Typhoon.

“They’re efficient, I’ll give them that.”

“Agreed.”  Clay turned his binoculars back to the ship where the last truck was being unloaded.  They had noticed something earlier that Clay was trying to get a better look at now through the glare of the corvette’s bright lights.  The silhouettes of the sailors moved methodically back and forth, but standing on a higher part of the ship was a single individual who wasn’t moving at all.  Instead, he appeared to be watching the others, or maybe supervising them.

It was something else they had not noticed in the ARGUS footage.  The person, who appeared slightly taller than the rest, was watching the transfer of crates very carefully.  However, with one of the bright lights directly behind him, his face remained unseen.

Several minutes later, after the last Typhoon truck had reached the abandoned building for more fuel, the lights on and around the corvette instantly blinked out.  The only light remaining was from the headlights of the trucks themselves, five of which had already headed back up the hill.

When the last truck had departed, the metal door was lowered, and the area plunged back into darkness and silence.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Caesare watched the tail lights of the last truck finally disappear into the distance.  “How far would you say those trucks can make it on a full tank of gas?”

Clay shrugged.  “Uphill, with all that armor, maybe three hundred miles.  They wouldn’t use much gas coming down.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

A few hundred yards away, silence swept over the Chinese ship again as it rocked almost imperceptibly in the darkness.  The mysterious man standing above the others watched his men disappear again below deck.  He dropped his cigarette and mashed it out with the tip of his boot.

Lieutenant Wang Chao turned around and studied the bright lights of Georgetown less than a mile away.  He marveled at how well the government had kept the area clear given such a large nearby population.  Money spoke, he thought.

Chao then turned and focused on the small group of lights further out at sea.  It was a United States ship.  A science vessel, he’d been told.  Chao displayed a tight grin.  He was surprised it had taken the U.S. so long.  But it didn’t matter.  They had arrived too late.  Soon Chao, his team, and their loaded ship would all be gone.

27

General Zhang Wei stared absently at his desk as he laid the phone handset back into its cradle.  In his late fifties, with cool eyes and close-cropped gray hair, he was not a man to get excited too soon.  But he couldn’t help but smile now.  They had done it.

Lieutenant Chao had confirmed it.  They were now days from completion, and the small science ship sent by the U.S. had only just arrived.  They were far too late.  Wei could not have hoped for a better result, especially since they expected, in all probability, to be discovered far earlier.  It was a risk that had paid off handsomely.  There was now nothing standing in their way.  They had made the find of the century and with virtually no international contention at all.  Yet when the world found out what the Chinese now possessed, it would leave them utterly shocked.

However, along with the good news from Chao came the unfortunate end to a problem that General Wei had known would have to be dealt with eventually.  He reached forward and picked up the remote control to a large television screen on his wall.  He powered it on and selected the special input feed he’d watched many times before.

The picture came to life displaying a dismal gray cell at an unidentified location, deep underground.  In the corner was a small cot with a figure resting on top.  His back was facing the camera.

The General stared silently at the screen.  The truth was he felt a small amount of sympathy for the man.  His name was Zang, and he had done his country the highest honor of anyone perhaps in China’s entire three thousand year history.  Even more difficult, Zang was a true patriot.  He had returned to China with one of man’s greatest discoveries, wanting only to enrich the country he loved so much.

In addition, it was clear from the hours of videotaped interrogation that he had absolutely no idea what he’d done wrong, or why he was being held captive.  How could anyone who delivered a gift like his be treated so poorly?  Zang could only imagine that there had been a terrible mistake.  Perhaps the authorities thought he was trying to use this find to his own advantage: to leverage some kind of deal or payment.  It was the only thing that made sense.

General Wei had watched for hours the barrage of questions put to Zang.  The patriot never wavered from his explanation.  More importantly, Zang showed himself to be wholly unable to think independently from the explanation his mind had created.  At one point, Wei watched Zang try to ask if something was wrong with his explanation: whether the government had been unable to locate the find in Guyana.

Wei lit a cigarette at his desk and continued staring at Zang’s cell.  The problem wasn’t that they could not find Zang’s discovery.  It was the opposite.  They had found it, right where he said it was.  And it was the very same reason that in a few days, Lieutenant Chao would have to kill every single one of his men in Guyana.

Wei picked up the phone and dialed.  When the call was answered, he spoke softly and clearly, “End it.”

When the door to Zang’s cell swung quietly open, General Wei held up the remote and turned the television off.  Less than sixty seconds later, Zang was dead.

28

Alison gripped the stainless steel railing, unable to decide if she was nervous or scared…probably both.  She looked to the port side of the boat at the sun peeking up over the line of the horizon, separating ocean from sky.  The water was like glass this early in the morning, making it the perfect departure time.

It was the day they had all been preparing for.  Alison looked down and watched Dirk and Sally leap excitedly through the calm water, just ahead of the boat’s surging bow.  They were as thrilled as she was and were leading their human friends out into the waters of the Caribbean.

It was a dream come true for any marine researcher but especially for Alison.  Not just to observe, but to communicate and participate within the natural world of another species.  To experience what they experienced, and to see the world from their eyes was more than she could ever have imagined.  Now it was happening.  At that moment, she realized it wasn’t nervousness or fear.  It was an unbridled excitement which she had never felt before: the point where dreams and miracles met.

Behind Alison, Kelly Carlson sat in the skipper’s seat, looking out over the top of the cabin and scanning the ocean.  She wore a tan baseball cap and a long, loose-fitting white T-shirt.  Kelly leaned forward and reduced the throttle to match Dirk and Sally’s pace.

Inside, down in the forward starboard hull, Chris stood behind Lee, who was running through yet more system checks on the servers.  The sound on the graphs was spiking up and down along the top, much higher than normal.  It was the underwater microphone picking up the noise from the boat’s 267 horsepower John Deere diesel engine as they motored forward.

Lee glanced up and over his shoulder at Chris.  “Here goes.”  He typed a command that activated a new algorithm designed to identify the signature of the engine and eliminate it.  The large spike was immediately highlighted and disappeared from the graph, displaying a more normalized baseline.

“So this will allow us to hear the dolphins but not the other way around?”

“Right,” Lee nodded.  “We’re receiving sound from the microphone, which is a lot easier to work with than what we’d be sending out through the speakers.  This should allow us to hear them while running the engines in case they need to tell us something.”

“Nice.  Everything else look okay?”

“So far, so good.”  He glanced at the servers, now strapped to the floor near his feet.  It was another benefit of the catamaran design.  The amount of heeling or leaning was negligible, reducing the chance of the servers being tipped, even in rougher seas.

“Well, if you don’t need me,” said Chris, “I’m gonna head up top.”

“Sure, go ahead.  I’ll be up in a little while after I’ve checked a few more things.”

With a nod and a pat on Lee’s shoulder, Chris stepped through the narrow oval doorway and climbed the half dozen steps into the salon.  After stepping out in the warm breeze, he spotted Alison at the bow and trailed along the lifelines to join her.  Looking past her, he could see Dirk and Sally swimming effortlessly out in front.

“Everything okay?”

Alison inhaled deeply and smiled.  “Couldn’t be better.”

“Anything more from DeeAnn?”

She glanced at her watch.  “Not yet.  Not for a few more hours.”

DeeAnn had phoned late the night before, letting Alison and the team know they landed safely.  They had arrived at Alves’ preserve just after nine o’clock.  All told, it was a successful trip, and Dulce seemed to be doing well.

Alison couldn’t hide her enthusiasm.  Even though it was still early, everything was progressing according to plan.  She crossed her fingers and hoped their good luck would continue.

***

DeeAnn awoke early and turned over, examining the room.  The walls were a soft white, reflecting the early morning sun.  The room was decorated in a stylish, natural theme.  She spotted some beautiful orange flowers on her dresser and wondered what they were called.  Finally, she rolled to the side of the bed and stood up.  She dressed and picked up the new, thicker vest, before unplugging it from the wall.

She planned to give Dulce some time that day to acclimate before starting the search.  DeeAnn was worried at the possibility of pushing Dulce too hard.  Gorillas were introverted creatures, and the last thing she needed was Dulce becoming overly excited.  Behaviorally speaking, it was a very small step from excited to frantic.

Alves had given DeeAnn the closest room to the fenced area downstairs, just seconds away.  Descending the stairs quietly, she pushed the exterior door open gently to look for Dulce.

The fenced area was larger than it appeared the night before.  It measured at least three hundred by another hundred and fifty yards.  She spotted the black fur of Dulce’s back hunched over in a nearby corner.  DeeAnn watched as Dulce plucked a handful of flowers and sniffed at them, apparently unable to decide if they were edible.

Dulce turned when she heard the metal gate open behind her.  She dropped the new handful of flowers and ran excitedly through the tall grass to DeeAnn.

You here, you here.

DeeAnn opened her arms just in time for Dulce to leap into them.  At the last second, DeeAnn remembered the vest and cringed as Dulce’s body landed with a thud against it.  She promptly lowered Dulce to the ground.  “Sensitive,” she replied, tapping the vest.  “We have to be careful.”

Dulce gave her a toothy grin.  Okay.  I careful.  She grabbed DeeAnn’s hand and pulled her forward.  Come.  New flowers.  Pretty.

Less than an hour later and after watching Dulce examine much of her new play area, the metal gate squeaked again and Juan Diaz stepped through into the fenced area.  He tromped over the tall grass and met them with a smile.

“Morning, Dee.”

“Good morning, Juan.”

Juan watched as Dulce climbed up a small tree to its lowest branch.  “How is she?”

DeeAnn began to speak but caught herself.  She glanced down at the vest.  “Where’s the mute button?”

“We didn’t have time to put one in.”

DeeAnn nodded and instead placed her finger firmly over the small microphone.  She also turned the vest away from Dulce just in case.  “She’s doing all right.  She’s showing some mild signs of anxiety.”  She motioned to the area around them.  “But out here with us, she seems a little better.”

“Yeah, I could see her starting to get a little upset on the plane.”

“Right.  Gorillas are introverted so what we see on the outside is only the tip of the iceberg.  Unfortunately, when they hit their breaking point, we don’t get much warning.”

Juan noticed DeeAnn’s attention shift and he turned to see where she was looking.  Mateus Alves was approaching from the large building.  Walking through the grass was difficult, even with his cane.  A second man was with him, tall and broad, dressed in matching khaki shorts and shirt.  DeeAnn and Juan left Dulce playing on the tree while they met the men at the fence.

“Mr. Alves.”

“Greetings, Ms. Draper.  Mr. Diaz.  I hope you both slept well.”  He turned to the man standing just behind him.  “I’d like to introduce our head of security, Miguel Blanco.  He helps keep things running when I’m away.”

DeeAnn smiled politely.  “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hi,” Juan added.

“Good morning.”  Blanco gave them a slight nod.  With dark, hawkish eyes and a deep tan, he looked like a seasoned soldier out of uniform.

Alves looked past DeeAnn.  “And how is Dulce faring this morning?”

“So far, so good.”  She decided to keep the nuances about Dulce’s behavior just between her and Juan.

“Wonderful.  Shall we bring some food out?”

“Please.  Otherwise, she’s probably going to eat all of your flowers.”

Alves laughed.  “She’s welcome to eat whatever she likes.  Though I’m not sure everything would be to her liking.  I must admit I’m not well educated on the differences in flora between our two continents.  I’ll have food brought out right away.  As for the rest of the animals,” he said, waving his arm, “we lost many during the vandalism.”  He motioned up the hill, past the nearby fences.  “The rest of the preserve is wild and to where most of our remaining animals escaped.  I’m afraid it will take some time to find them.”

“I’m guessing that’s where our capuchin monkey is?”

“Yes, we believe so.”

DeeAnn nodded, still staring up the hill.  She couldn’t tell what was the preserve and what was…well, Brazil.  It was all mountain and jungle as far as she could see.  She felt her heart sink at the sheer expanse before them.  She was finally faced with the thought she’d been avoiding this entire time.  How on earth were they supposed to find a monkey in all of this?

DeeAnn took a deep breath.  There was another topic she was dreading, one she couldn’t put off any longer either.  She turned to Juan and began unfastening the buckles on the vest.  “Juan, would you mind looking after Dulce for a bit?”

“Sure, Dee.”

DeeAnn looked at Alves.  “Mr. Alves, can you show me Luke’s room?”

***

Miguel Blanco unlocked the door and pushed it open.  He then stepped out of the way to allow DeeAnn in.

When Blanco turned on the light behind her, DeeAnn gasped.

Alves stepped in from the hallway and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Ms. Draper.  We had to leave things as they were the night of the attack, for investigation purposes.”

DeeAnn nodded absently and scanned the room.  Several things were turned over or broken and in some cases, both.  Clothes were pulled from a small dresser, strewn across the floor.  A large desk in the corner had been overturned.

“My God,” she whispered, “what happened?”  She turned to Alves and Blanco.  “Were they looking for something?”

Alves shrugged.  “It appears so.  Though I’m afraid we don’t know what.  We weren’t exactly working on anything secretive.”

DeeAnn stepped over a broken lamp, suddenly afraid at the possibility of seeing blood.  To her relief, there was none.

Alves spoke softly over her shoulder.  “Footsteps outside suggest Luke made it out before disappearing.  We believe he was picked up and carried from there.  Everything we’ve learned seems to suggest it was a raid of vandalism, designed to ruin the preserve.  Several systems, including the main air-conditioning system, were destroyed.”

“Why would they want to ruin your preserve?”

Alves shook his head.  “I don’t know, Ms. Draper.  As I said, I have many enemies who would love to see my businesses fail, but the preserve is different.  It is the one thing I’ve done truly for the people of our country: for all the people of South America.”

“Could Luke have seen something?  Something he wasn’t supposed to?”

“It’s possible.  If he recognized someone, it might explain why they would take him.”

Would it?  DeeAnn thought to herself.  Would it really explain anything?  She wanted desperately to believe Luke was still alive, but she was an analytical person. She couldn’t help asking the obvious question in her head.  If Luke had seen something he wasn’t supposed to, why didn’t they simply kill him?  Her only explanation was that he didn’t see something…instead, he probably knew something.

She stared at the items on the floor for a long time before turning back around to face her hosts.  “And we’re hoping to find this monkey Luke was working with…for what, exactly?”

“Anything,” Blanco answered, in a deep voice.  “Whoever did this covered their tracks well.  We’re hoping the capuchin can give us a clue as to who it was.  A uniform, an insignia, anything.  We have a number of pictures we can show him.  We’re hoping he can pick something out.  At this point, it’s the only option we have left.”

DeeAnn shook her head.  This was feeling more impossible by the minute.  She stopped when she spotted a picture frame lying face down on the floor.  She reached down to pick it up and turned it over.  The photo hit her immediately.  It was a picture of her and Luke, many years earlier, on the beach standing knee-high in the water.  They were both laughing.

Tears began to well up in her eyes.  She blinked hard, chasing them away.  With a quick wipe from the back of her hand, DeeAnn looked back at Alves and Blanco.  “So do you have any video or audio footage of this monkey Dexter?”

29

Chris found Alison, standing once again on the bow.  She was eating a sandwich and watching the water as the boat drifted in place.  The gentle swells of late afternoon sun reflected brightly off the water.  Dirk and Sally had left to hunt for food, leaving them all with some down time.

“Ali!”  Chris walked forward, keeping close to the stanchions.

She turned to see him approaching with the satellite phone in his hand.  “Who is it?”

Chris smiled.  “Guess.”

She held it to her ear and answered.  “Hello?”

“Hello, beautiful.”

Alison grinned.  “Well, hi there.”

“How are things going?  I presume you’re at sea since your cell phone didn’t pick up.”

“We sure are.  We’re over seventy miles out already, almost within sight of St. Kitts.  And you’re very sweet for remembering.  What are you up to?”

Clay looked at Caesare, who was downing a piece of pizza.  “Just watching Steve eat,” he joked.  In reality they were less than a mile from the abandoned building they’d spent much of the night atop and were about to head back to it.

“You poor thing,” Alison teased.  She had seen Caesare’s voracious appetite in action.

“Everything going all right?”

“Yes!  Dirk and Sally are out finding dinner, and Kelly is taking a nap, getting ready for the first watch.  It sounds like we’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I bet you’re busting with excitement.”

“I am.”  She turned back out toward the water.  “I really am.  It’s more than I could have ever hoped for, John.”  She paused.  “I kinda wish you were here with me.”

“So do I.”  His baritone voice said through the speaker.  “It’s just bad timing, I’m afraid.”

“I know.  I’m not mad.  I just…”  She struggled for a moment and decided to change the subject.  “Wait, I haven’t told you about DeeAnn!”

“Told me what?”

Alison spent the next ten minutes telling Clay about the visit from Alves and his assistant, the news about DeeAnn’s friend, and her decision to take Dulce back with them.  When she was finished, Clay remained quiet, thinking.

“What’s the guy’s name again?”

“Mateus Alves.  Have you heard of him?”

“Can’t say that I have, but that certainly doesn’t mean anything.”

“Lee and Juan both checked him out.  And considering their snooping skills, he looks pretty trustworthy.”

Clay was still thinking.  “Can Dulce really communicate with another primate species?”

Alison shrugged.  “We’re not sure, but DeeAnn seemed to think it was possible.  She said the way they communicate is very similar.  Honestly though, I think she would have gone either way.  I probably would have too.”

“Have you heard from her since she left?”  Clay was again looking at Caesare who had picked up on the topic of their conversation and was now listening intently.

“Yes.  She called last night.  They arrived safe and sound.  And the new vest seems to be working well.  With any luck, they’ll find something out about her friend quickly.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

Alison sighed.  She wanted to be hopeful, but all things considered, the odds were against them.  Even if Dulce could find and talk to the smaller monkey, she couldn’t imagine what he might tell them that would make a difference.  She wanted to believe DeeAnn’s friend was alive, but from the circumstances described by Alves, it sounded doubtful.  “You know me,” she told Clay.  “Prepare for the worst but hope for the best.”

Clay smiled on the other end.  “You’re very wise, Alison Shaw.”  He glanced at his watch.  “I should probably go.  Steve and I have some things to do before it gets too late.  Stay safe.  I’ll try to call you again soon.”

“Okay.  Thanks for calling.  You be safe too.”

“I will.”

Clay ended the call and powered off the phone, dropping it into a side pocket on his bag.

Caesare was still watching with raised eyebrows.  “What’s up with Dulce and DeeAnn?”

“It appears they’ve gone on a trip.”

“Trip?  To where?”

Clay zipped the side pocket closed and slung the bag over his shoulder.  “Let’s head out.  I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Caesare nodded and picked up his own bag.  They had a relatively short window in which to reach their target before dark.  Once there, they would have to change back into their black fatigues and hightail it up the hill to get into position.

***

Just as they had the night before, the loud trucks angled slowly down the narrow road toward the bottom of the mountain.  Even in first gear, the giant vehicles strained under their own weight, causing the transmissions to moan under protest.  The bright headlights of the Typhoons eventually passed over a section of dense jungle where Clay and Caesare were lying quietly on their stomachs, waiting.

Talking to Langford earlier, he impressed upon them that the brass needed to know what was in those trucks as soon as possible, which meant they were going to have to improvise, and fast.

As the first truck passed, Caesare remained motionless, propped up onto his elbows in an overlook position with an M4 carbine tucked tightly into his shoulder.  He pointed downhill into an open area, where he could give Clay emergency cover if needed.

A little further uphill from Caesare, Clay was squatting, waiting.  The plan was simple, or at least as simple as they could come up with, given the time crunch.  Caesare was also a better shot and Clay a faster runner, which was why Caesare was the one providing cover.

When the last truck rumbled past, Clay immediately leapt from his position and scampered up a small embankment.  Within half a dozen steps, he was onto the road and in full sprint.  Clay tore down the steep hill, chasing the truck’s dark outline.  He stumbled over the uneven ground, almost losing his balance.  He recovered and quickened his pace, reaching out for the rear of the huge bouncing vehicle.

Clay’s hand was just inches from one of the back handles when the grade changed and the truck abruptly sped up.  He stumbled again and pushed harder.  His boot dropped into a small hole, slightly twisting his ankle and causing him to fall onto a knee, just as he seized one of the large stainless steel handles.  The ground raced beneath him, dragging Clay behind the truck as he managed to get another grip on the handle and lifted off both knees.  He pulled himself up, hand over hand, until only his feet were dragging.  Clay finally propped one, then both knees, up onto the bumper.

This new position was only slightly better than being drug, as the truck’s heavy bouncing smashed Clay’s knees against the hard metal.  With another heave, he got a foot under himself and stood up straight, pulling himself in against the black metal door.

Less than twenty yards behind him, Caesare watched and rolled his one open eye before looking back into the scope.  “What I wouldn’t give for a camera.”

Caesare kept the rifle trained on the truck as he watched Clay’s dark figure twist the heavy handle then quickly pull the door open.  With that, he disappeared inside and the door closed behind him.

In the darkness, Clay pulled a small light from a leg pocket and put it between his teeth.  He bit down on the rubber tip and the tiny LED light came on, casting a faint glow around the dark gray interior.  The mysterious crates were larger than he expected.  All were stacked in front of him, secured to the sides and floor with thick nylon straps.

Clay quickly grasped a strap and loosened one of the ratchets, providing enough slack to pull one of the crates free.  The truck’s transmission groaned again and caused the vehicle to lurch, throwing Clay forward.  He tumbled hard against the rest of the crates, then immediately stood back up and reached out for one.  Clay was quite mindful that each second inside was carrying him further from Caesare’s protection.

Inside the cab, the driver looked across the seat to the other soldier.  “Did you hear something?”

“Sounded like something fell over.”

The driver smashed his foot against the oversized pedal and the truck came to a grinding stop.  He pressed the emergency brake down with his other foot and placed his hand on the ball of the gearshift.  He motioned toward the back.  “Check it out.”

***

Further up the hill, Caesare let his second eye open briefly when he saw the brake lights come on, lighting up the area behind the truck in an eerie red glow.

“Get out, John,” he quietly mumbled.  A moment later, he heard the truck’s emergency brake engage.  “As in now!”

Next, he saw the passenger door open.

The soldier dropped to the ground and slung his rifle over his shoulder.  Having a crate come loose and fall over wasn’t that unusual.  But they were given orders to investigate everything, no matter how small.  Considering their cargo, they were to take absolutely no chances.

The soldier stood behind the truck, bathed in the red light.  He pulled the rifle off his shoulder and tilted it toward the metal door.  With a finger lightly against the trigger, he reached up high with his left hand and twisted the handle.  In a burst of movement, he pulled the door open and leapt back, aiming his rifle inside.

30

It was on the floor.

The soldier kept his rifle pointed into the darkness of the truck while he examined the area around the crate.  He then carefully climbed up through the door.  Leaning his rifle against the metal wall and with a heave, the soldier grabbed and lifted the crate back up on top of the others.  He calmly wrapped the end of the loose strap around his hand and pulled hard, ratcheting it back down firmly.

In the cab, the driver felt the door slam shut behind him.  A moment later, the passenger door opened again.  His comrade jumped back in next to him and pulled his door closed with a bang.

As the truck lurched forward and continued down the hill, Caesare dropped his trigger finger and exhaled.  He pivoted his barrel and scope, searching.  After a few minutes, he saw Clay’s black outline rise from some nearby bushes and look around.

***

Neither of them moved for a long time, until well after the truck was out of sight.  Clay listened carefully before stepping back out onto the road, still under the watchful eye of Caesare’s scope.

It wasn’t until Clay made it back up the hill and sat down next to him that Caesare relaxed.  “That was exciting.”

“And painful,” replied Clay.  He examined his pants at the knees, fingering some tears in the material.

“You’re not going to go on about your bad knees again, are you?”

“Well, that sure as hell didn’t help!”

Caesare chuckled and pushed himself up onto his own knees.  He slung the M4 over his right shoulder.  “So, any luck?”

Clay nodded and stood up.  He ripped the Velcro top of his jacket open, then reached inside and pulled something out.

Caesare merely stared at him.  When Clay failed to reach into his jacket for anything else, Caesare squinted disappointedly.  “Wait, that’s it?  That’s what was inside?”

Clay nodded silently.

Caesare shook his head.  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

***

Lieutenant Chao stormed down the corvette’s gangway under the bright lights toward one of the Typhoon trucks.  One of the men had found something on the last truck and called out to the others.

Several had gathered around the tailgate by the time Chao arrived, and he pushed his way through, yelling for them to get out of the way.  He lifted himself up into the back where one of his men was examining a crate.

“What is it?”

“Sir, one of the crates is damaged.”  The man stepped back allowing Chao a closer look.  “The driver said they had one fall off the top just a few kilometers back.”

Chao could see the corner where some of the wood had been severely chipped.

“Sir,” the man replied.  He silently fingered the edge and raised the top of the hinged crate for Chao.

Chao looked inside.  He instantly whipped around and jumped back down, out of the truck.  “We have a breach!” he yelled to the others.  “Three kilometers! GO!”

Chao’s top men immediately scrambled for the truck, piled in around the crates, and unloaded them as fast as possible.  Once empty, the rest climbed in and closed the metal door.  The driver jammed the stick into first gear and watched Chao climb in next to him.  He released the brake and the vehicle jerked forward.

The giant engine roared as it accelerated, forcing Chao to scream over the noise and into his radio.

Clay and Caesare stopped in their tracks.  They were halfway down the mountain when they heard a sudden commotion.  They ran to the top of a small hill and looked out over the clearing.  The trucks were headed back uphill, and fast.  They were coming for them.

Caesare turned to Clay.  “What did you do, leave them a thank you note?”

Clay buckled his pack around his waist and cinched the straps down tight.  “I guess that was a mistake.”

Together the two men broke into a run, zigzagging eastward through the dark trees.

They found the spot not far from where the truck had stopped earlier.  The vegetation was matted down, indicating where someone had been lying in wait.  Chao’s men quickly fanned out but couldn’t find any tracks.  Not surprising in the dark.  It would take several hours before there was enough light to discover Clay and Caesare’s tracks further down the road.

Chao examined the area with his flashlight.  Nothing else was left behind.  Just the matted flatness.  He climbed back up the short embankment to the road and walked around the back of the truck.  He shined his light over the door, then down lower and along the bumper.

Chao peered closer at something small stuck in the crevice between the bumper and the truck’s back panel.  He reached down and wiggled it forcefully until it came free.  He examined it carefully, rubbing it between his fingers before looking back at the truck.  He was familiar with the fabric.

***

General Zhang Wei awoke, peering sleepily at the small stand next to his bed and his cellular phone lying on top of it.  The phone rang a third time before he reached out and picked it up.  The screen was painfully bright in the dark room, causing him to squint as he tried to make out the incoming number.  It was Chao.

The General accepted the call but continued watching the screen with one eye closed to make sure the encryption was established.  Finally, he held the phone to his ear.  “What is it?”

Chao’s words were clear and unmistakable.  “The Americans have found out.”

The fog immediately cleared from General Wei’s head, and he sat up on the edge of his bed, thinking.  He wasn’t surprised.  It was inevitable once the science vessel had arrived.  They were smart not to send a warship.  Wei instinctively reached for his glasses and slid them on.  “But do they know?”

On the other end, Chao held his own satellite phone to his ear and peered into the darkness beyond the glaringly bright glow from the truck’s headlights.  “They don’t know yet, but they will.  They took a sample.”

“Dammit,” Wei growled.  It would take them some time to understand what they had, just as it had taken Wei’s men in the beginning.  But it wouldn’t be long.  Maybe days.  “How much do we have now?”

“About sixty percent.”

Wei nodded silently in the dark.  He’d hoped for more, a lot more, but they would have to take what they had.  He hesitated, wondering if there was any other way.  Maybe the Americans wouldn’t figure it out.  Or maybe it would take them longer than he expected.  Maybe the politicians would get wind of it and turn it into one of those bureaucratic fights for which the Americans were famous.

Damn it!  He shook his head again.  He couldn’t take any chances.  Those Americans had no idea just how lucky they were to have sent a science vessel.  They would soon.

Wei gave a resigned sigh.  “Three more days,” he said.  “We have at least that long.  Then destroy what’s left.”

Chao acknowledged the instruction and hung up, leaving Wei solemn and thoughtful on the edge of his mattress, holding his phone.  He finally lay back down on his bed.  The other side was empty.

He couldn’t take any chances.  It was a once in a lifetime discovery.  No, he thought to himself, it was bigger than that, much bigger.

31

Captain Krogstad stepped through the door and onto the bridge, still fastening the last button on his shirt.  He gazed out over the shoulder of his Quartermaster of the Watch.  An early morning fog surrounded the ship, giving a strange feeling of isolation.

“Where is it?” Krogstad asked.

The Quartermaster nodded straight ahead.  “Just a few degrees to port, sir.”

“How fast?”

“Just a poke, really.  Maybe five knots.”

Krogstad relaxed slightly, still staring out through the giant window.  If someone was attacking the Bowditch, it was a ridiculously slow attack.

The communication's officer turned around.  “Sir.  I have a call coming in for you over satellite.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s John Clay, sir.  He says it’s them on the boat.”  The officer then smiled, “And not to shoot.”

Krogstad rolled his eyes.  Yeah, like what was he going to shoot with?

Ten minutes later, the strange boat slowly emerged from the fog.  When Krogstad saw what it was, he almost laughed.  A small fishing trawler.

The old half-rusted trawler slowed its engines and slid past the Bowditch’s bow as the skipper expertly brought the two vessels almost within reach.  The trawler’s bumpers were down, but they wouldn’t need them.  Instead, they glided closer and closer until they approached one of the Bowditch’s maintenance ladders running down the outside of its hull.  With a rumble, the trawler’s engines were thrown into reverse, which slowed the boat to a virtual standstill.  The tip of its own bow crept closer.  Clay and Caesare turned and acknowledged the skipper before jumping from the front of the trawler onto the Bowditch’s exterior ladder.

When they reached the top, Captain Krogstad was standing over them with arms folded, along with his Officer of the Deck and the Quartermaster.  “Nice ride,” he commented, with a smirk.

Clay cleared the ladder and unbuckled his bag, giving the Captain a salute.  “We had to leave rather quickly.  I apologize for the dramatic entrance.  I had some trouble getting routed to you through satellite.”

Krogstad’s lip curled.  “What the hell.  I don’t get many wake-up calls like that anymore.”  He turned to Caesare as he joined them.  “I presume your grand return means you found something.”

“You could say that.”

***

Thirty minutes later, Clay, Caesare, Captain Krogstad, and Will Borger sat around a small metal table in a semicircle.  All four men sat facing the monitor.  The conference capabilities onboard a ship while underway were much more limited, having to bounce the signal off a satellite first.  But all technical limitations aside, the picture was still surprisingly clear.  Aside from some occasional pixilation, they could see Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller quite well.  In another window on the screen were National Security Advisor Griffith and Secretary of State Bartman.  However, Clay and Caesare were both surprised to see Dr. Kathryn Lokke from the U.S.G.S. in a third window.  They had met her the year before in what turned out to be one of the most memorable meetings they’d ever had.

After uploading a picture of what they found in the Chinese truck, Clay waited for the Admiral’s response.  The picture was now onscreen and Langford’s reaction was exactly as Clay expected.

“You can’t be serious?!” exclaimed Langford.  “A goddamn plant?!”

“Yes, sir.”

They could see Langford and Miller look at each other with disbelief.

“Are you saying,” Miller spoke up, with a look of incredulity, “that all of this is over some PLANTS?!”  The other three officials on the screen simply looked on, speechless.

Clay replied again, simply.  “Yes, sir.”

Langford shook his head and wrapped a hand over his mouth, while Griffith cut in.  “All this time.  All this secrecy.  The black trucks, the midnight runs, everything…is over a bunch of plants.”  His tone was rhetorical.

Lokke’s expression was the only one that had moved on from surprise to curiosity.  “Commander,” she said to Clay.  “Are you sure the rest of the crates had the same things in them?”

“I am.  There were a few gaps, allowing me to see inside.  They were all carrying the same contents as the one I opened: giant plants wrapped in plastic.”

Lokke raised her eyebrows.  “How much of the plants were in plastic?”

“The whole plant, including the roots.  It all appeared to be wrapped in some kind of special medium.  As you can see from the one I retrieved, the plants are pretty large.  I estimate they had about two dozen packed into each crate.”

The picture Clay had uploaded to the screen was of a very thick and very green section of leaf, appearing to come from a much larger sample.  In truth, it seemed to everyone to be a big and otherwise ordinary looking leaf.  They had all seen larger leaves before, particularly palms.

“What in the hell would they want with a bunch of plants?” Langford asked.  The others remained silent until Langford addressed Krogstad.  “Rog, we need to get your people to look at this, ASAP.”

“They already are.  Clay gave the sample to our science team shortly after arriving back onboard.”

“Good,” replied Langford.  “So far, I see two possibilities.  One, there’s something unique about these plants.  Two is that the plants are somehow not the main objective of our Chinese friends.”

“Or a ruse,” added Miller.

Langford turned to him.  “What do you mean?”

“Maybe these plants are part of the objective and maybe they’re not.”  He paused, thinking.  “The Chinese know we’re here, and unless they’re idiots, they know that we’re here to find out what they’re doing.  And there’s only one way to do that: get a look in those trucks.”

Langford nodded.  “So they’re expecting us to show up, and instead of what they’re really bringing out of the mountains, they pack the crates full of plants as a ploy.”

“Exactly.”

Langford considered it.

“Except,” piped in Griffith, “they don’t know when we would sneak in.  A lot of these shipments would then have to become ploys, not just one.”  He spread his arms in a questioning manner.  “And how long do they keep that up?”

“I agree,” added Bartman.  “Whatever it is they have, they’re pretty serious about their extraction.  I can’t imagine they would suddenly start packing all their trucks with plants, hoping to throw us off.  They would have to know a ploy is the first thing we would suspect.  It’s what we would do.”

“Okay,” replied Langford.  “Scenario two then.  The plants are only one of the things they’re after.”  He noticed Clay shaking his head.  “Clay?”

“It’s possible, sir.  But that whole truck was filled with them.  Even if it were only part of the extraction, a whole truck full would mean it’s a big part.  It’s possible, but more often than not, the simplest answer is usually the right one.”

“That would mean these plants are, in fact, what they’re after.”

“Correct.”

Next to Clay, Will Borger cleared his throat.  “If I may, sir.  I think Clay is right.  I’ve been studying the satellite video, and it’s clear to me, given how quickly they’re unloading these crates, that they don’t appear very heavy.  It also supports the likelihood that all of the crates contain the same thing.”

“Dr. Lokke?  Any thoughts?”

Lokke slowly shook her head.  “I’m not sure.  I’d have to confer with some of my staff, but on the surface, it’s certainly possible they found something of extreme interest.  Taxonomy has arguably contributed more to modern society than anything else.  Everything from glues to fabrics, to antibiotics, almost everything has roots back to…well, things with roots.”

“So what kind of plant-based discovery would warrant this kind of secrecy?” asked Miller.

Lokke blinked, thinking.  “God, it could be almost anything.  My first guess would be something medicinal or biological.”

“Or technological,” interjected Caesare.

Langford turned to him.  “Technological?”

“Maybe?” Caesare shrugged.  “What is China most dependent on?  Oil.  Maybe there’s a relationship.”

“Synthetics!” exclaimed Borger, seeing where Caesare was headed.  He looked back to the monitor.  “That is a possibility, sir.  And it might explain why the Chinese are trying to grab it.”

“What are synthetics?”

“Synthetics are pretty much any compound that we’ve been able to duplicate from its original, organic source.  Which, as Dr. Lokke pointed out, is usually some derivative of biology.  “Synthetics” is mankind creating a superior product through more modern means, say through a chemical process.  Oil is one of these products.  In fact, synthetic oil goes all the way back to World War II.  When the Nazis were running out of real oil, Hitler ordered an investigation into a synthetic alternative.  And they found one.  They were able to create huge amounts of oil and rubber synthetically to keep their armies moving.  Even fuel.  But the process wasn’t all that sophisticated and required much more energy to create than they got from it.  Which, of course, can only go on for so long.  We’ve come a long way since then.”

“Meaning?”

“Biofuels,” Borger answered.

“Biofuels?”

Borger looked back and forth between Caesare and the screen.  “Biofuels is a much more natural and cleaner process than synthetic fuels.  There are all sorts of companies and governments working on it.  The main problem is that even biofuels aren’t as efficient as we need them to be.  The plants just don’t produce a high enough concentration of organic oil.  What we really need is a plant source that produces at least twenty percent more to really achieve a self-sustaining biofuel.”

“Are you suggesting this plant the Chinese have found in Guyana has more oil in it?”

“It’s a possibility.  If oil really is the focus here.  But like Dr. Lokke said, it could be anything.  Heck, maybe its photosynthesis.”

“You mean as in light absorption?”

“Yes.”  Borger stopped to think and suddenly got an excited expression.  “Actually, if it’s photosynthesis, that could be huge!”

“Will,” the Admiral said.  “Focus.  You’re losing us here.”

“Sorry, sir,” he replied sheepishly.  “Photosynthesis, as you know, is a plant or tree’s ability to absorb sunlight and turn it into energy.  It’s a biological process that is still far more efficient than we can achieve with things like solar panels.”

“And?”

“China just happens to be the largest manufacturer and exporter of solar products, by a long shot.”

Miller frowned.  “So?”

“So,” continued Borger.  “What if the Chinese found a plant whose photosynthesis is ultra-efficient?  Better yet, what if it allows them to better understand or copy the organic process?!  There would be no other solar product in the world that could compete with that.”

“Which might allow them to reduce their dependence on oil at the same time,” offered Caesare.

“Oil is a finite commodity,” agreed Lokke.  “Some of the biggest oil wells in the world are beginning to run dry, like Cantarell in Mexico.  The world is being forced to turn to shale.  Eventually, the sources will either run dry or become so difficult to tap that only the richest countries will be able to afford it.  And with a population of one and a half billion people, the Chinese are no doubt acutely aware of the importance of real, tangible resources.”

Langford frowned.  Wars were fought over resources like these.  When resources become scarce, the only predictable human reaction is to fight for what is still left.  Energy is the lifeblood of modern society.  Without it, any nation on the planet would perish.  And whoever controlled it over the long term became the victors.

“So, oil or photosynthesis,” Langford said.

“Well, those are just possibilities, sir.  To be honest, if it is some kind of biological discovery, it could be almost anything.”

Langford glanced at Miller before leaning back in his chair.  “Okay,” he said, turning to Krogstad.  “Roger, keep your people on this.  We need some answers.  We need to understand exactly what we’re talking about here.  Mr. Borger, I want you to see if you can pinpoint where these trucks are going.”  He then looked at Lokke’s image.  “And Dr. Lokke, I’d like you to start getting a small team of experts together just in case we need a task force on the ground.  Bring them in from wherever you need to but have them ready within a few days.”

Lokke nodded.  “Absolutely.”

Langford and Miller looked at each other again.  This time they shared the same weary expression.  If this “discovery” were as important to anyone else as it apparently was to China, things could get very ugly.  They hoped it wouldn’t, but their expressions were telling.  If the simplest explanation was the right one, then the message was clear.  The Chinese had gone to a lot of trouble and expense over these plants, which meant they were probably ready to fight for them too.

32

DeeAnn could feel a sense of worry growing within herself.  Dulce wasn’t as talkative as usual, and she wasn’t sure if it was due to stress or nervousness, or whether a result of the increasing errors from the vest’s computer system.  Juan had looked at it the night before and confirmed the frequency of errors was still increasing.

On top of it all, DeeAnn’s heart was sinking at the realization that the chance of finding the capuchin monkey was remote at best.  Alves’ preserve was simply too big.

They had spent almost four hours in the field yesterday.  Alves and his head of security Blanco had escorted them into areas of the preserve not yet searched.  But the place was just too huge.  They would never be able to cover the area, even in Alves’ giant four-wheel drive vehicle.  But getting out and hiking through the jungle was the only way Dulce could listen for the monkey.  Without at least some idea of where Dexter might be, it was quickly feeling hopeless.

DeeAnn watched as Dulce examined more trees.  There were thousands of trees in the preserve, maybe tens of thousands.

DeeAnn had been quietly, yet reluctantly, thinking of an exit plan.  What she was worried about the most was the vest.  If she lost the ability to communicate with a frightened gorilla in the wild, things could get much worse for them.

She realized her mind had drifted off and looked back to find Dulce now watching her.

No monkey, Dulce said, matter-of-factly.

DeeAnn smiled and shook her head.  “Not yet.  Should we go look again today?”

Yes, Dulce replied, looking up at DeeAnn.  Look more.

“Okay, we look more,” DeeAnn smiled, placing her chin gently on Dulce’s furry head and rubbing her back.  “We look more.”

Upstairs on the top floor of the state-of-art facility, Alves and Blanco observed DeeAnn and Dulce from the inside, through a tall window.

“How long are we going to search?” asked Blanco.  It was a difficult question but one that needed to be asked.

Alves answered without looking away from the window.  “As long as necessary.”

Carolina, Alves’ assistant, approached and joined them.  “Everything is ready.”

Alves nodded.

Carolina waited for a reply, but getting none, she continued.  “And everyone is looking for you.”

Who cares? Alves thought.  Business could wait.  It would wait.  The businesses could run themselves for a long time.

He continued watching DeeAnn and Dulce out in the grass.  This was far more important.  It was the most important thing he had ever done, and in the end, nothing else mattered.  Nothing.

Blanco wasn’t convinced.  He was sure there were other ways, but it wasn’t up to him.  He would do as he was told.  At least for now.

Standing behind Alves, Carolina looked at the hardened Blanco, who then glanced briefly at her.  They would both do what they were told.  For now.

***

Brazil’s unrelenting humidity made wearing the thick vest almost unbearable, especially through the peak heat of the afternoon.  The only relief was the wind flowing over the open top of the vehicle.  DeeAnn couldn’t tell what model it was, but it reminded her of the old military Jeeps she had seen as a girl.  These, however, were much nicer.

She turned and looked at Dulce, who was sitting on the bench seat between her and Juan.  Dulce was smiling the entire way.  Bouncing up and down while they drove over the rough ground, Dulce loved every minute of the ride.  It was a nice change.  The young gorilla looked up to the open sky at a group of birds darting away from a nearby tree.

DeeAnn still held Dulce’s leash firmly in her hand, worried that a sudden movement or shift could result in her falling out.  A motherly instinct that was never fostered through a child of her own, she clearly still had it.

Blanco slowed the vehicle and brought it to a stop in another open field.  A vast sea of trees began a few hundred yards away and continued on, high into the mountains.

Juan promptly jumped out and helped Dulce down.  DeeAnn followed closely behind, careful to keep extra slack in the leash.  It took only seconds for her to feel the sweat return under her vest.

Alves hobbled around the back from the passenger’s seat.  “This is another area Luke had taken Dexter to.  They’d spent a few days out here last month.”

DeeAnn turned and scanned the area.  Luke probably brought Dexter out periodically to keep him calm.  Wild primates often became agitated with too much time in a captive environment, even one as nice as Alves’ facility.  However, with Dulce, DeeAnn had the opposite challenge.  She was born in captivity and now being outside her normal environment was causing her stress.

Together, they crossed the small field and passed into the edge of dark green forest.  The group continued following Dulce as she knuckle-walked from place to place, looking and listening.

DeeAnn watched the others who were idly scanning the area.  All except Alves, of course.  He was intently watching Dulce as he had been all day.  She had to admit it was beginning to feel a little odd.  His interest was beginning to go beyond mere curiosity.

Juan checked his watch and gave DeeAnn a concerned look.  He was forever thinking about the system and was no doubt estimating how much battery life they had left for the day.  That and, of course, the errors.  The vest still seemed to be working well, but he didn’t know for how much longer that would continue.

DeeAnn noticed Dulce examining something on the ground and walked up behind her to have a look.  She frowned when she discovered that Dulce was looking at the remains of a bird nest.  Four tiny pink bodies were lying next to it on a wide rock.  DeeAnn looked up at the tall tree above them.  The nest must have fallen, causing the hatchlings to tumble out.  They were much too small to move about on their own, which meant they likely died on the rock.

Dulce used her rough brown finger and reached out to touch one of them.  She poked the featherless pink body gently and waited.  Nothing happened.  She then poked the others one by one.  Finally, she turned to DeeAnn with her lower lip drooping sadly.  Babies die.

DeeAnn frowned and knelt next to her.  “Yes, the babies died.  It’s very sad.”  She was surprised when Dulce turned back, gently picked up the four little bodies from the rock, and placed them into her palm.  Using her free hand, Dulce then turned and dug her fingers into the soft earth, creating a small hole.  She placed them all carefully into the cavity and laid a leaf on top.  Finally, she began covering them with the dirt.

DeeAnn was awestruck.  She couldn’t believe what she had just witnessed, on so many levels.

Me no like die.

DeeAnn shifted her eyes to look at the amazing little gorilla in front of her.  “Me either.”

33

We here Alison.

Alison smiled and quickly stepped out of the salon, into the boat’s spacious cockpit.  She trotted to the side and peeked over the starboard hull.  Sally was waiting with her head poking out, gently batting the water with her fins to stay up.  “Are we here?”

Dirk abruptly popped his head out of the water next to Sally.  We here.

Kelly immediately killed the engine and allowed the boat to drift to a stop.  “Thank goodness.”

Thank goodness, indeed, Alison thought.  It was much further than they were expecting, repeatedly promised by Dirk and Sally to be just a little further.  That “little” further had taken them well south of their expected location, almost within sight of the small island of Grenada.  She knew that dolphins had a sharp understanding of distance, but they seemed almost purposefully vague this time.  It was something they had never witnessed before with Dirk or Sally.  Their conclusion was that the dolphins’ home wasn’t stationary.  It moved.

Come Alison come.

“I’m coming,” she said, with a touch of sarcasm.  “Just give us some time.”

***

In the time it took them to get set up, more dolphins began to arrive.  Many more.  Alison pulled the second fin onto her foot and wiggled it while she looked out over the water.  There were hundreds of dolphins now.

“Chris, look at this,” she said, standing up.

“Wow!”

The number of dolphins swimming in and around each other seemed to be growing bigger right before their eyes.

Lee turned back from the water to look at Alison.  He was excited too, wanting to see how his new “aqua vest” worked in the real world.  “How’s that?” he looked over the straps on the vest.

“It feels fine.”

“Okay, good.  Let’s get the rebreather on now.”  Chris, standing behind her, lifted the tank and BCD up high enough for her to slide the unit on.  Next, Chris lifted the thick oxygen hose over Alison’s head and handed it to Lee, who aligned the hose with the facemask and attached it to the bottom.

“Test, please,” he said, handing the full mask to Alison.

She held it to her face and breathed in.  “Yep.  Got air.”

Next, Chris snaked the weight belt around her waist and Lee buckled it in front.

Alison pulled the mask strap over her head, while Lee examined the three lights on the vest’s shoulder.  All three were lit and steady.

“We have power, link, and camera.”  Lee then turned to his laptop on the white fiberglass table to verify connectivity with the onboard servers.  “Looking good.”  He turned back to Alison.  “Ready to test?”

“Sure.”

He activated the translation software and made a motion with his hand for her to speak.

“Hello,” Alison said, inside the mask.

The familiar whistle and clicks were heard almost immediately through the speaker.

“Good.  Now remember,” he reminded her, “you have to be looking at them for IMIS to pick it up.”

“I remember.”

Lee looked past Alison’s shoulder to Chris.  “Are we good?”

“Yep, we’re good.”

“Okay, Ali.  Let’s turn around.”

She nodded and slowly turned around to face the wide, built-in steps at the end of the boat’s starboard hull.  She gave them a thumbs-up and grasped the top of the rail on each side.  With careful movements, she descended each step until she reached the last one at the water line.  She could feel the lapping of the water over her fins and feet.

She looked out over the water at the peaceful blue horizon.  With a deep breath, Alison jumped.

***

Compared to the stifling warm air above, the ocean felt cool and instantly refreshing.  It took a few seconds to get her bearings, but Alison adjusted herself and tilted her head back and forth, looking for water leaks in the mask.  After verifying that all was still secure, she popped her head up above the waves and twisted around to find the boat.

Alison smiled and gave them the “A-OK” sign before dipping her face back into the water.  Less than twenty feet below, hundreds of dolphins were swirling beneath her in every direction.

Alison was searching for them when Sally swam by and playfully bumped her from behind.  Alison, you here.

“I am here,” she replied.  “Thanks to you.”  A moment later, she heard the familiar buzz indicating a translation error.  It didn’t matter.

“Where is Dirk?”

I here, he answered, swimming to her excitedly.  We home Alison, we home.  We show you.

Alison pivoted forward and kicked after them.  “Yes, show me.”

Together, Dirk and Sally descended into the darkening blue water and turned for a moment, waiting for Alison.  When she caught up, they dove further, before stopping to wait again.  Come Alison.

She laughed and rolled her eyes inside her mask.  “I’m coming!”

She let more air out of her BCD and sank further, into the heart of the immense pod.  The dolphins she had seen from above now swarmed from every direction, darting past her with amazing precision.  Alison reached out and grazed one with her fingertip as it glided up and around her.  She turned and watched in awe.  Dolphins were everywhere.

She noticed several dolphins bump one another and jet away as if playing a game.

Incredible, she thought, listening to the translations.

Come we

Metal

Get food

Find them leave

Where

Alison blinked and twisted back around.  Dirk and Sally had disappeared, and she realized she was becoming surrounded. The chatter in her earphone was now coming from everywhere.  “Sally, Dirk?  Where are you?”  She looked below, then up above.  All she could see was the giant shadow of the boat floating overhead.

Going

People here

She talk

I hear talk too

People talk

Alison turned again and found several dolphins had stopped a few feet in front of her, watching her curiously.

You talk, one of them said.

She talk

Who she

She talking

Alison tried to identify which dolphin was speaking, but there were too many.  She turned back to those closest to her, still unable to find Dirk and Sally.

“Hello,” Alison simply said.

The dolphins moved their tails excitedly.  You talk us.  How you talk.

The pod was still surrounding her, but now more dolphins were slowing and staring at her.

Alison thought for a moment and spoke slowly.  “My name is Alison.  I talk with this metal.”  She heard the translation come through the speaker, noting the different combination of whistles and clicks that identified her name.  It was a crude, but unique compilation they had created in the lab to designate her name.  It probably sounded like gibberish, but at least it was a pattern the dolphins could repeat.

Alison

Alison

Name Alison

Alison Dirk Sally friend

Talk again

“Wait,” Alison said.  She was trying to follow who was speaking but turning her head to hear one would cut off the sentence from another.  She was suddenly bumped by a dolphin from behind, who appeared to be examining her rebreather tanks.  As she tried to steady herself, she was gently bumped again from the side.

Metal here down come talk

Alison whipped around again.  “Wait, easy!”  She put out a hand that got bumped as well, spinning her around.  “I can’t-

From metal come trip talk metal here down come with us trip metal talk talk Dirk here down Sally

“Wait! Wait!”  Alison shook her head and pushed away, clamping a hand over the side of her mask.  “Lee, Chris!  Can you hear me?!”

Thirty feet above them, Lee leaned forward and grabbed the microphone off the small desk.  “Alison, can you hear me?!  Alison!”

She couldn’t hear him.  The translations were inundating her system so that she couldn’t hear anything over the constant flood of words.  There were now dozens of dolphins closely surrounding and trying to speak to her.  She was getting bumped from all directions by those curious to find out where her voice was coming from.

“Chris, Lee!” she yelled.  “Are you there?!”

Come us metal many friends talk trip come-

Suddenly everything went silent.

“Alison.  Alison, can you hear me?”  It was Lee’s voice, clear and alone.

“Lee, yes!”  She was still getting jostled around and looked at the dolphins who were still talking.  “What’s happening?”

“I had to disable the translation.  I’ve turned off your microphone and speaker.  Can you get to the surface?”

“I think so.”  Alison pushed away hard and pumped her legs, sending her to the surface.  When she reached the top, she looked around through the fogged mask and spotted Chris.  He was already on the bottom step waiting for her.  She reached up and he clasped her hands before pulling her up forcefully, which caused her to stumble and fall into his arms.  In one quick motion, Chris reached over her head and pulled the mask from her face.

“Are you okay?”

She had to catch her breath.  “Y-e-s.”  She looked back to see that many of the dolphins had followed her to the surface and were bobbing above the water.  They were still talking excitedly.

Lee came running out of the salon and helped her up the rest of the steps.  They quickly removed her mask along with the tanks from her back, freeing her from most of the weight.

“What happened?” she asked, still out of breath.

Lee frowned.  “I think IMIS got confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yeah.  It was trying to process too many translations from different directions.  It got overwhelmed until it couldn’t sync the words correctly.  I’m sorry.”

Alison took a deep breath to calm her nerves.  “It wasn’t your fault.  I guess we should have expected something like that.”

Chris nodded in agreement.  “That’s definitely a response we weren’t ready for.”

“Agreed.”  Lee knelt down and helped Alison off with her fins.  “You sure you’re okay?”

Alison smirked with amusement and glanced back at the dolphins crowding around the stern of the boat, all still trying to talk.  “I didn’t expect them to be more excited than I was.”

***

Lee was studying his screen when Alison approached from behind with a mug of tea.  His monitor was filled with graphs and computer logs from the portable IMIS servers below.  The window in the middle of the screen displayed a jumble of crisscrossing lines, presenting all of the different conversations that IMIS had been trying to translate through Alison’s vest unit.

“Wow.  That’s what it looks like?”

Lee pursed his lips but kept his eyes on the graph.  “Most of it.  The problem is the vest.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not the vest per se.  It’s because it’s mobile.  The camera is too limited.  Back at the lab, we have multiple cameras all synched with each other.  It provides a complete picture of the tank from almost any angle, which means nothing gets lost.  But the vest has only one camera and it’s small, which means a relatively narrow viewing angle.  It’s one thing to view a three-dimensional area like the tank, but it’s another to be right in the middle of it.”

“Meaning it’s easier to lose track of moving objects?”

“Exactly.”  Lee leaned back in his hard plastic chair and crossed his arms.  “The other problem is that with so many dolphins present, IMIS can’t keep track of who is saying what.  The camera limitation just compounds the issue.  I should have anticipated that.”

Alison took a sip and laid a hand on Lee’s shoulder.  “We can’t think of everything.”

He shook his head.  “I should have thought of this.”

“So what do we do?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about the camera, at least not here.  That’s going to take some design work and a whole lot of testing.”  He sighed, still staring at the scrambled lines on the screen.  “But I might be able to figure out a workaround.  The one thing we haven’t told IMIS to do is to listen for individual tones or pitches.  We never had to.  We only had two dolphins to worry about.  But now it simply can’t differentiate between so many different conversations.”

“Are these servers strong enough to do that?”

Lee nodded.  “I think so.  I just need to figure out how, and then try to code it.”

“Well, I know this is a long shot, but is there anything I can do to help?”

Lee looked up and smiled.  “Nah.  Thanks, Ali.  It’s just something I need to figure out.”

“I figured as much.  What if I at least bring you some dinner?”

“That’s a deal.”

Alison patted him again on the shoulder and stepped through the narrow doorway, heading for the stairs.

Back in the salon, she passed behind Chris at the compact stove.  He stood stirring a pot of pasta.

Alison leaned in and sniffed.  “Smells good.”

Chris winked.  “It’s kind of hard to screw up spaghetti.  How’s Lee coming along?”

“He’s trying to find a way to separate the strings of conversation.”

Chris shook his head.  “I don’t know how he figures all that stuff out.  I pretty much give up when my email doesn’t work.”

“Or when they come from me,” Alison teased.

They both looked at the open sliding glass door as Kelly stepped in from outside.  The fading light had turned the sky behind her a dark crimson red.  “Okay, the drogue is down, so we shouldn’t drift too far tonight.  And we should have pretty good weather for the next couple days.”

“Any sign of Dirk and Sally?”

“Yeah, they’ve come by a couple times to check on us.  I think they know we’re having trouble with the translations right now.”  She cocked her head for a moment.  “At least I think it’s Dirk and Sally.”

Alison laughed.  “Oh well, I’m sure they could use the rest.”  She reached behind Chris and grabbed some plates.  “I’m just hoping Lee can work one of his computer miracles.”

***

A noise woke Alison up and she rolled over, forcing one eye open in the darkness.  It took her a moment to remember where she was and finally recognize the boat’s smooth, white fiberglass walls and ceiling.  They were only visible thanks to the soft glow coming through her door.

She cleared her mind and squinted toward the light.  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up in her shorts and tank top.  Suspiciously, she walked softly down the tiny hallway, following the light.

She knew what she was going to find, but it didn’t make her any less irritated.  She pushed the oval door open and stepped out into the small converted cabin.  “What on earth are you still doing up?”

The sarcasm was lost on Lee, who looked at her excitedly.  “Good, you’re up!” he said, almost jumping out of his chair.  “I need to talk to you.”

Alison glared at him.  “You know the sun is going to be up in a couple hours, right?”

He couldn’t hide the brief look of guilt.  “Uh…yeah.  Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

A drowsy Chris came downstairs, nearing the end of his watch.  “What’s going on?”

“Someone’s been up all night.”

Chris turned to Lee, who was grinning.

“Okay, that’s true,” Lee confessed.  “But I have good news!”

Alison’s eyes opened in anticipation.  “Did you fix it?”

“I did.”

“Really?’

He shrugged innocently.  “It wasn’t that hard.  I identified several segments of Dirk and Sally’s speech and overlaid them onto the speech patterns from the other dolphins.  Then I removed the differences, which gave me a tonal signature.  I’ve now added it to the translation process, so it should filter Dirk and Sally’s speech from the others.  It will help keep IMIS from getting confused.  Unfortunately, it also means the other dolphins can’t talk directly to you.  They’ll have to talk through Dirk and Sally.  It’s the best I can do for now.”

Alison and Chris looked at each other.  “Lee, you’re amazing!”

“Tell that to my wife.”

Alison started looking away but stopped when she noticed that Lee was still smiling.  “What?”

“That’s not what I was working on all night.”

She eyed him suspiciously.  “What were you working on then?”

“I have something else to show you guys.”  He grabbed the chair and promptly sat back down.  He pulled up a new window on his screen that Alison had seen before in Puerto Rico.  On one side was video footage.  The other side displayed a long list of text, some of which was highlighted in red.  The video held a still frame of DeeAnn and Dulce in it.  “Recognize this?”

“Aren’t those the translation errors you’ve been trying to figure out?”

“Yes, they are.”

Chris lifted his eyebrows.  “Did you find something out?”

Lee smiled.  “I think so.”  He turned back to the screen.  “I was working on the tonality problem when something suddenly occurred to me.  When you were underwater today, Alison, and were having problems, I was afraid we were going to find the same synchronizing errors we’ve been having with Dulce: the ones where some of the translated speech is time-stamped incorrectly.  Luckily for us, there weren’t any errors.  Instead, it was a limitation of how IMIS was instructed to process the data.”  He turned back around to them.  “But that got me thinking…what if the errors we’ve been having with Dulce weren’t really errors either?”

Now both Chris and Alison were listening intently.

“Think about this.  The one thing that was confusing the hell out of me was that I could see the errors occurring on the screen, but I couldn’t detect any speech related errors in the video.  And neither did DeeAnn or Dulce.  Therefore, I had to assume they were subtle and still infrequent enough that they would eventually begin to appear as translation drops.  But they never did.”

“So, are you saying the errors are not real?”

“Yes!  That’s exactly what I’m saying!”  The excitement in Lee’s voice was growing.  “At least in a sense.  After all, how can you have a problem with a cause, but no effect?”  He looked back and forth between them.  “The answer is…you don’t!  It’s because the effect is the problem!  In other words, if you can’t observe the effect, there is no problem.”

Chris furrowed his brow.  “I think you just lost me.”

“What I’m saying, is that I was trying to find a cause to something that wasn’t really a problem.”

“But,” Alison cut in, looking back at Lee’s monitor.  “I thought the computer errors were the problem?”

“That’s what I thought,” Lee nodded.  “But then I asked myself, what if the computer was wrong?  What if it was confused, like it was today with the vest?”

“So you’re saying there’s no problem?”

Lee was smiling widely now.  “Right.”

“And the log entries in the computer are wrong.” Chris continued.

Lee suddenly held up his finger at what Chris said.  “Actually, no!”

“No?”  Chris looked back to Alison, confused.  “I’m lost again.”

“This is the exciting part,” Lee replied.  “My point is that there is no translation problem, and the entries in the log are valid!”

Chris squinted at Lee.  “How can that be?”

“Because,” Alison said, thinking through it.  “Those log entries mean something else.”

“Exactly!” cried Lee.

“So what do they mean?”

Lee’s grin grew even wider.  “For this, you two might want to sit down.”

34

Alison and Chris both turned around, then shot Lee a sarcastic look.

“Sit down where?”

Lee looked past them at the small empty hallway.  “Oh, sorry.  Never mind.”  After a chuckle, he whirled around in his chair and restarted his video of DeeAnn and Dulce.  “Like I said, I couldn’t find any noticeable discrepancies in the translations.  Of course, that doesn’t mean they’re not present, but if these were true errors, the frequency alone means we should have seen several hiccups.  Words being wrong or maybe a little out of context.  But so far, nada.  If anything, IMIS is getting faster, which is exactly how it worked with Dirk and Sally on the old system.”

Alison watched the video while she listened.  “Okay, so they aren’t errors, but we still don’t know what they are?”

Lee smiled slyly.  “Or maybe we do.”  He slowed the video down dramatically then zoomed in on DeeAnn and Dulce in the middle of the frame.  Their slow motion images became clear enough to see their facial expressions.  They watched DeeAnn ask Dulce a question.

“They look like they’re trapped in molasses,” Chris joked.

After an unusually long wait due to the slow motion, Alison and Chris could see the translated text appear up on Lee’s screen.

“Would…you…like…to…play…another….game?” she asked.

The three watched while the sound emanated from DeeAnn’s old vest.  They could barely see Dulce’s expression start to change or her mouth move when the red letters abruptly appeared in the computer logs.

“There!” cried Lee, stopping the video.  “Right there!  There’s one!”  He pointed at the red lettering on the screen.  “From here, you see that it takes almost three seconds for Dulce to speak.  Yet as far as IMIS is concerned, the translation already happened.  We’ve never seen this with Dirk and Sally before.”

Alison and Chris remained fixed on his screen.

“And Dulce’s translations have never been wrong?” Alison asked.

“Not as far as I can tell.”

“Maybe the camera’s audio and video are out of sync.”

“Good guess,” Lee offered to Chris.  “But they’re not, I checked.  Remember, we have multiple cameras surrounding her habitat.”

“Well, if the translations are happening early, and they’re correct, then IMIS must be anticipating the words to be translated.”

Lee pointed to her.  “I thought the same thing.  But our algorithms can’t actively predict behavior.  At least not yet.  Which leaves only one more possibility.  IMIS is picking up on something else.”

“Something else?  Like what?”

“Okay, remember what DeeAnn told us…that gorillas are quiet communicators.  That they’re calm and thoughtful.  I remember that because she told me about a thousand times while I was helping code the new software to study primates.  Calm and thoughtful.  Which means nonverbal, something else DeeAnn says all the time, ‘most of their communications are non-verbal.’”

“Oh, my gosh,” mumbled Alison, as Lee’s words began to dawn on her.

“You see,” Lee continued, “the system was never broken.  It was just the opposite.  If anything, IMIS was working too well.  So well in fact, that I think IMIS has begun translating a language with Dulce on a level that humans can’t even detect!”

***

Alison and Chris stared at Lee before finally turning to each other.  They wore the same look on their faces.

“Did you say an undetectable language?”

“Yes!”  Lee was so excited that he had to force himself to keep his voice down for Kelly, who miraculously was still sleeping.  “It’s the only thing that fits.  Dulce is able to communicate on a level, a primate level, which only IMIS is able to pick up on.  And it’s fast!”

Alison took a deep breath.  “Wow.”

Lee eagerly looked back and forth between them.  “And that is why I haven’t slept all night.”

Chris smirked, with the look of shock still on his face.  “Well, that’s about the best excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Alison stood silently, thinking, with the back of her hand covering her mouth.  “So, what kind of language is it?” she asked out loud.

Lee shook his head.  “I have no idea.”

Alison blinked out of her trance and looked down at Lee, who was still seated.  “Well, I guess we can be happy the software isn’t broken.”

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckled in agreement.  Just moments later, he became serious again.  “This is huge guys.  I mean really HUGE.”

“I agree.  And it means we need to get a hold of DeeAnn for a couple of reasons,” Alison said, reading her watch.

Chris eyed her curiously.  “What’s the second?”

She turned to both of them.  “Well, we’re going to need her help trying to validate what Lee just found.  And secondly, I’m guessing she’ll want to know that there may not be anything wrong with that new vest of hers after all.”

35

The sun’s first rays of the new morning broke over the distant blue horizon and raced across the surface of the earth, illuminating the coast of South America.  The trees lit up in a bright green hue, reflecting the lushness of the mysterious jungle laden continent.

The early twilight splashed over everything close to the water, including Alves’ preserve and Dulce, who was huddled into the corner of her fenced area.  She was hiding with her small black head tucked down, from a fear that was now causing her fingers to shake.  She was beginning to feel nervous and more than a little irritable.  She wanted to help and make DeeAnn happy but deep down, more than anything, she wanted to go home.

She’d been awake most of the night and a growing wisp of exhaustion was beginning to take its toll on her.  She was waiting quietly for her mother.

The sound from a nearby group of black-goggled tanagers filled the air as the jungle awakened to the cool, humid morning.  Other birds began to join in, adding their own morning calls.  But it was a different noise that caught Dulce’s attention.  It was a very peculiar sound.

Dulce silently raised her head and looked around behind her, scanning the nearby building less than thirty yards away.  She kept watching and listening until she heard it again, this time louder.

She turned her attention to a small area of the building where the lower wall overlapped with the next structure, providing a darkly shaded corner section of the roof.  It was there that Dulce continued to stare until she saw it.  A small gray head appeared from the shadow and glanced around.  When the small capuchin monkey spotted Dulce observing from the ground, he quickly ducked back into the shadows.

Dulce’s eyes opened wide and she wrapped her fingers eagerly through the chain link fence.  She continued watching the hidden area for several minutes before the gray head appeared again.  This time, it was staring curiously at Dulce.  After a moment, he tipped his head as if trying to figure her out.

Thirty minutes later, DeeAnn was surprised when she opened the outside door and found Dulce standing attentively at the fence.  She followed Dulce’s gaze up to the roof but couldn’t see what she was looking at.  Her curiosity grew when she approached the caged area to find that Dulce was still ignoring her.

DeeAnn gingerly unlocked the gate and stepped inside, still observing the young gorilla.  She began to close the gate when she suddenly froze.  Up along the first roofline, she could see something protruding out from the shadows.  She eased her breath out slowly.  It was the small gray head of Dexter, the capuchin monkey they had spent the last two days searching for.  The monkey had never left!

DeeAnn rolled her eyes.  Of course!  Why didn’t she realize?  With as much time as Luke spent with him, Dexter could just as easily have become comfortable at Luke’s home, especially since his own was so far away.  In fact, Dexter probably wouldn’t have left a familiar environment for the unknown unless he was being chased.  Instead, frightened from the attack, he found what he considered the safest and closest place to hide.  How could she not have thought of that?

DeeAnn turned as the exterior door to the building opened again, and Juan stepped out.  She immediately put her finger over her lips and signaled him to come quickly.

***

It took Juan just a few minutes to locate a ladder near a nearby utility shed.  It wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the lower roof, but it was enough to allow Dulce to get within eight feet of the monkey.  DeeAnn kept her distance and remained further down the ladder, just within reach of Dulce’s dangling leash.  Juan stood immediately behind her, securing the bottom of the aluminum ladder.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t understand what Dulce was saying to Dexter at the top of the ladder.  DeeAnn could not point the vest upward at the correct angle, and Dulce was facing away from her, making a translation impossible.  But speak, she did.  Dulce stood poised at the top, carefully studying Dexter and exchanging an unending series of sounds and gestures.

Dexter’s sounds were higher pitched, sounding less like an exchange and more like a screaming match; but step by step, his head and body gradually emerged into the morning sunlight.  When he reached the edge of the roof, DeeAnn slowly shook her head in wonder.  The full significance of the event would have been lost on anyone else, but to DeeAnn, what she had just witnessed was nothing short of earth shattering.

36

The metal door burst open, and Alves charged down the hall with Carolina hurrying behind him.  Miguel Blanco was waiting near the end of the hallway with arms folded, gazing through another smaller window.  He calmly turned when Alves reached him.

“Tell me!”

“He was here all along,” Blanco smirked, “hiding upstairs.”  He motioned back outside.  “We have him contained.”

“Is he talking?!”  Alves blurted, excitedly.

“Don’t know.  The woman asked us to stay inside.  She said they needed to establish a level of trust with the monkey first.”

Alves peered eagerly through the exterior window and across a small open area to where several cages sat at the base of the group of trees.  They were too far away to hear.  “We need a feed on them!”

“Enrique’s working on that,” Blanco replied smoothly.  He glanced at his watch. “He said he’d have video and audio in ten minutes.”

Alves nodded anxiously.  “Good.”  From their angle, they could only see part of Dexter’s tiny frame outside, but it was him.  He was sure.  After a long pause studying him, Alves turned back to Blanco.  “He doesn’t get out of that containment cage!  Understand?  No matter what!”

The roof was just the beginning.  Coaxing Dexter down was one thing, but once on the ground, watching Dulce ask Dexter a question and then relay the answer back to them left DeeAnn in awe.  She was sure she had just witnessed IMIS do something of which Lee Kenwood had never dreamed.

DeeAnn continued watching, still dumbfounded, as Dulce handed Dexter a small chunk of celery and asked, Hungry?

The tiny gray monkey studied the vegetable for a moment, but then seized it in a flash.  He finished it within seconds.  Dulce tilted her head and grinned, then reached for another.

The two were now in a different caged area.  It was smaller and located under the canopy and shade of several dark green, mid-sized mango trees.  DeeAnn and Juan were both inside but leaning against the chain link, a distance which Dexter appeared to deem safe.

They watched intently, and DeeAnn kept her vest pointed carefully, as to allow her to capture both primates within the tiny camera’s field of view.

What was interesting though was that over the last couple days, the IMIS vest had grown increasingly efficient at translating for DeeAnn, and yet it was unable to translate the exchange between Dulce and Dexter.  DeeAnn pondered what that meant.  Was there something else happening with the communication between the primates?

As was the case in human communication, words, gestures, context, and tone were also very commonly used by primates.  In fact, many primates knew what humor was and enjoyed playing tricks on their researchers.  Even more fascinating was their practice at varying levels of deception.  They also demonstrated human characteristics like greed, jealousy, and ire.  So why couldn’t IMIS translate their speech?  A thought suddenly occurred to DeeAnn, and she dropped her head, contemplating.  Unless it was something humans couldn’t do.  Or something humans had evolved out of.

Dulce spoke with Dexter again, who seemed to say something back.  Dulce rolled her head sideways with a curious expression and looked at DeeAnn.  When she spoke, the words emanated a moment later from the vest’s speaker.  He hiding.

DeeAnn replied softly.  “Ask him why he is hiding.”

They watched Dulce turn back to Dexter, who was barely half as tall as she.  His near white fur had a peppering of black, which from a distance gave him a gray hue.  After another blurted exchange with yelps and motions, Dulce turned to them again.  He hide from bad people.

DeeAnn looked at Juan with widening eyes.  “Do you think that means he saw them?

“Maybe,” Juan whispered back.

DeeAnn cleared her voice.  “Who are bad people, Dulce?”

Dulce spoke to Dexter again and waited.  He want out cage.

“Soon.  But first, who are bad people?”

After another exchange, Dulce replied again.  Bad people hurt friend.

DeeAnn gasped.  Luke!  Was Luke the friend?  She took a deep breath, struggling to remain calm.  “Who was his friend?”

Dulce stared at her a moment, trying to understand the question.  When she turned and spoke to Dexter, his reply was brief.  Teacher.

“Yes, Dulce!  Teacher!”  DeeAnn said, gripping one of Juan’s sleeves.  “Who hurt the teacher?”

Teacher friend.

“Yes, yes.  Teacher is friend.  Who hurt teacher?  Where is teacher?!”

Dulce asked again.  IMIS didn’t translate, but DeeAnn could tell Dexter’s answer was different this time.  She stared apprehensively at Dulce, waiting.

Dulce looked at DeeAnn but didn’t speak immediately.  She waited, staring, as her small face slowly changed expressions to one of sadness.  Her answer struck DeeAnn like a freight train.  Teacher die.

Juan’s eyes widened and he turned to DeeAnn.  Her face went instantly white.  Her knees wobbled and she looked as though she were going to collapse when Juan quickly reached out and grabbed her.

Dulce watched DeeAnn with sorrow and finished the translation.  Friend die teacher.

37

DeeAnn’s eyelids fluttered open, and she looked around with blurry eyes.  After taking some time for them to adjust, she finally recognized her room on Alves’ estate.

She turned her head and saw Juan’s face hovering above her.  Alves and Blanco stood behind him, looking questioningly.

“Dee, can you hear me?”

“Yes.”  She blinked and focused on Juan’s young, tan face.  “What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“Fainted?” she said, confused.  “I did?”

“Yeah.”  Juan looked to the other two men, then back down at her.  “How do you feel?”

DeeAnn blinked again.  “Fine.”  Her mind was fully aware now and trying to rewind.  All at once, she remembered and was instantly overcome with heartbreak.  Luke!

She remembered what Dulce had repeated.  Even worse, she knew what it meant.  She had been hoping against hope that Luke was still alive, but she always knew the chances were remote.  Deep down she knew that Luke was dead, but she wouldn’t let herself come to believe it.  Until now.  They were just words.  From a monkey, no less, but she knew it was true.  She finally had to admit it.  Luke was gone.

Her eyes began to well up until streams fell from the corners, running down each of her cheeks.  DeeAnn closed her eyes and gently rolled her head back and forth.  What on earth was she doing here?  She just wanted to go home.

She opened her eyes again and reached for Juan’s hand.  “Help me up.”

“Hold on.”  He loosened his grip and gently placed his other hand on her shoulder.  Leaning forward, he brushed her hair off her forehead.  “I think there’s more here than just fainting.  You look like you might have a case of heatstroke.  You’re sweating quite a bit.  Are you thirsty?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been pushing yourself pretty hard, Dee.  I think you need take it easy for a while.”

She took a deep breath and forced her limbs to relax.  “What about Dulce and Dexter?”

Alves peered over Juan’s shoulder with a concerned look.  “Don’t you worry about them.  They’re safe and they’re not going anywhere.  You need some rest.  In fact,” he said, with a sigh, “I think we all do.”

DeeAnn nodded.  “They need to be separated without me in there with them.  And fed too.”

“Already done,” smiled Juan.  “Let’s just take the afternoon to get some rest.”  He turned to Alves and Blanco.  “If you gentlemen don’t mind.”

A flash of surprise passed over both of them, but they nodded and headed for the door.  With a quick glance back, they stepped out and Blanco closed the door softly behind them.

DeeAnn looked up at Juan and shook her head.  “I’m sorry, Juan.  I brought us on a wild goose chase, and I shouldn’t have.”  She reached up and laid a hand over her eye.  “I thought I could do something to help Luke before it was too late.  But in my heart, I already knew it was too late.  And now I’m worried about Dulce.  I know you can’t tell, but she’s not coping well.  And here I am, with a case of heatstroke.”  She took a deep breath and let it out quickly.  “I know this sounds harsh, Juan, but if Luke really is gone, I don’t think we’re going to find out who did it.  At least not soon.  I think it would take a while.  Longer than Dulce could handle.”  She frowned at him.  “We need to go home.  Before things get worse.”

“I understand.”  Juan nodded and gingerly patted her hand.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

DeeAnn nodded.  “I’m fine.”

“Good,” said Juan, lowering his voice.  This time it was his turn to take a deep breath.  “Because I think we have a problem.”

DeeAnn wrinkled her brow.  “What?”

Juan leaned in and almost whispered.  “I said I think we have a problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked up and scanned the room, wondering if he would be able to spot a bug, even if there was one.  “Listen.  Did you notice anything while Dulce was talking to Dexter outside?”

“Like what?”

“When you were talking to Dulce, I heard something.  When I looked up, one of Alves’ men had opened a window and aimed a video camera right at us.”

“They were recording us?” she asked.

“I think they only caught the last bit, but yes, they were recording.”

“That’s a little weird.  We could just give them a copy of the translations.”

Juan nodded, still using a low voice.  “That’s what I was thinking.  And there’s something else.  I know you may still be a little groggy, but do you remember the last thing Dulce translated before you fainted?”

DeeAnn thought a moment.  “Teacher die?”

“No,” Juan shook his head.  “She said something else right after that.  She said, Friend die teacher.”

DeeAnn’s eyes narrowed as she thought about it.  “Friend die teacher?”

Juan nodded but said nothing.

After thinking, DeeAnn looked at him curiously.  “Redundant translation?”

“Maybe.  Maybe it was a redundant reference or maybe it was one of those system errors beginning to cause problems.  But if it was, the timing would be extremely coincidental.”

DeeAnn propped herself up on her elbows.  “Well, you know the system better than I do.  What are you saying?”

Juan turned and looked cautiously at the door.  “The IMIS software catches most redundant translations.  It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty effective.”

DeeAnn’s eyes narrowed further.  “Spill it, Juan.  What are you getting at?”

He bit his lip, thinking.  Finally, he leaned forward again.  “I don’t think it was redundant.  I think the word ‘friend’ may have been a reference to a third person.”

DeeAnn gave him a contemplative stare.  Suddenly she bolted up.  “Oh my god, friend die teacher.  You think it was a reference to who killed Luke!”

“Shh!” Juan held up both hands.  “Look, I don’t know.  I don’t know what exactly was happening between Dulce and Dexter, but considering how accurate our other translations from Dulce have been, I think it’s very possible.”

“Oh, my god!” DeeAnn repeated, with both hands over her mouth.  “Do you think ‘die’ means kill?”

“It’s a possibility.  But Dee, we don’t know this for sure.”

DeeAnn dropped her hands.  “With what you know of IMIS, how much of a possibility are we talking about?”

“Well,” Juan replied, glancing at the door again.  “A few minutes ago, I would have said something like forty percent.  But…”

“But what?”

With one hand, Juan reached down past the side of her bed and came back up holding his cell phone.  He unlocked the screen and turned it toward her.  “Remember when Alves told us he had a cellular repeater on site here?  The one we’ve been using for calls?  Well, after you fainted, my cellular signal disappeared.”

38

A mild southwesterly produced a morning chop over the deep blue waters of the Caribbean; though for the open ocean, it was still considered relatively calm.  The swaying of the boat over the small rolling waves had increased, making it slightly more difficult for Alison to keep her balance.  Chris and Lee loaded her up with the diving equipment again.  Behind her, a soft sunrise shone through a veil of light clouds on the horizon.

It was already nearly eighty degrees when Chris opened the valve and Alison tested the airflow once more, giving another thumbs-up.

Lee stood in front of her.  “Okay, so remember, you’re only going to hear Dirk and Sally this time.  It’s the only way not to overwhelm the system.”

Alison pulled the mask from her face.  “Got it.”

After a few test translations, followed by the addition of her weight belt, Chris helped Alison back to the stern.  Dozens of dolphins were waiting for her again with their heads up out of the water.  One by one, they bobbed higher as the small waves brushed past them.  Alison smiled when she spotted Dirk and Sally in the middle of the group.

Her jump this time was more controlled and her splash smaller.  She immediately spun around to signal Chris.  After a short pause, she reached down to let some air out of her BCD and slipped below the surface, descending in slow motion through the emerald water.

The dolphins wasted no time circling her, all still trying to speak, but this time she felt a sense of calm as Dirk and Sally approached.

“Dirk, Sally, the metal is broken.  I can only talk to you.”

She wasn’t sure what she was expecting.  Dolphins didn’t exactly nod.  Instead, they just watched her and replied.  You talk us only.

“Yes.”

Okay.

Dozens of dolphins continued to swarm around her excitedly.

We all happy you here.  We like talk.

Alison smiled from inside the glass facemask.  “So am I, Dirk.  So am I.”  She watched as he shot past and stopped behind her.  He came in closer to examine her tanks.

Metal no broken.

She rolled her eyes.  “Trust me, it’s broken.”  The familiar buzz sounded in her ear, signaling a bad translation.

Alison watched Sally turn slightly and speak, most of which generated only more buzzing, courtesy of IMIS.  Out of the string, there were only two words translated correctly:  she here.

She waited in anticipation as Dirk came out from behind her.  The field of swirling dolphins began to quickly thin until only a few were left, yet even they distanced themselves.  From a distance, Alison could see three faint shapes approaching.  All three swam in a tight group.  They moved steadily until they slowed next to Dirk and Sally.

The three looked noticeably larger than the others but not by much.  Instead, with their size and slow movements, they struck Alison as older.

Sally turned and drifted closer to Alison.  Here our heads.

Alison stared at her with a puzzled expression.  “Your head?”  What does that mean…what heads? She pondered Sally’s comment for a moment and shrugged beneath her vest.  “I don’t understand.”

Sally blinked, continuing to drift in.  Our heads.  Old.

“Your heads are old?  I don’t…” Alison stopped in midsentence.  “Wait,” her eyes lit up, “you mean your elders?!”

Yes.  Old heads.

“Old heads,” Alison repeated, inside her mask.  She looked back at the three older dolphins who seemed to be studying her.  One of them appeared to speak, but Alison couldn’t hear it.  She could only hear what Sally repeated to her.

How you speak.

“I speak with a metal,”

After Sally had repeated Alison’s reply, the elder spoke again.  How many humans talk.

Alison smiled, feeling a surge of excitement.  “Just me now.  But soon, many will talk!”  She considered explaining what “soon” meant but left it alone.  She knew the IMIS system was wildly complex, not to mention expensive.  It would take time.  Years maybe.  But one day it would come.  One day everyone would be able to do it.

Another elder spoke to Sally, who repeated again to Alison.  How old you.

She chuckled, creating a small patch of fog inside her mask.  Clearly dolphins didn’t have the same hang ups with age that humans did.  She briefly wondered if they had any hang-ups at all.

“I’m thirty-four.”

Finally, the third dolphin spoke through Sally.  We happy talk again.  Before Alison could reply the elder added, You come journey.

Alison gave a brief shake of her head.  “What?”

We journey.  You come.

“Journey?  You’re going on a journey?”

Yes.  You come.  We go to beautiful.

Alison stared at them, surprised.  “Isn’t this your home?”

We go --- home now.  --- Beautiful --- ---.

Alison’s earpiece buzzed again with more unrecognized words.  She reached down and found the glowing button on her vest that muted the speaker.  “Lee, are you getting this?”

Lee’s voice was clear and crisp.  “We sure are.”

“Who’s there with you?”

Lee glanced up at Chris and Kelly.  “We’re all here, Ali.”

“They’re leaving,” Alison said, looking at the dolphins.

“It sure seems that way,” he replied.

Alison was afraid to ask the obvious question.  They were, after all, out in the middle of the ocean and farther from land than any of them thought they ought to be.  She swallowed silently.  “What do you guys think we should do?”

Lee looked at Chris, who then looked at Kelly.  With a smile, Lee leaned in close to the microphone.  “Didn’t we hear an invitation in there?”

Alison was relieved to find the rest of the team was as excited as she was.  After some assurance from the elders that their journey destination was close, Kelly was confident the boat would be fine.  They had more than enough fuel and food.

Several hours of motoring later, Alison was woken by Chris shaking her vigorously.  She had managed to catch up on some sleep, but when she blinked up at him, he had an urgent look on his face.

“Ali! Ali!  You’ve got to get up!”

Her eyes darted around the small cabin in a panic.  “What’s wrong?!  Is something wrong with the boat?!”

Chris simply grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him.  “Just get up!  You need to see something!”

Alison shook the cobwebs from her mind and slid out of the bed, onto the cool wooden floorboards.  Still being pulled by Chris, she stumbled up the stairs behind him and into the salon.  Lee’s laptop sat abandoned on the round table.

Chris yanked on her hand again, pulling her outside into the wide cockpit, where both Lee and Kelly were staring out across the water.

Alison blinked again and this time when her eyes cleared, she gasped.  “Oh my god!”  She turned and looked past the stern, then over to port.  “OH MY GOD!”

She finished a three hundred and sixty degree scan before turning back to Chris and the others.  She was speechless.

Together, they all stared incredulously.  That morning, during Alison’s second dive, they had seen more dolphins than ever before.  Hundreds of them.

But that paled in comparison to what they were seeing now.  They were now surrounded by thousands of dolphins.  No, tens of thousands!  As far as they could see in any direction were the familiar gray shapes and dorsal fins rising rhythmically up and out of the water, everywhere!

Alison stepped forward, completely bewildered.  “My god,” she whispered to the others.  “This isn’t a journey.  This is a pilgrimage!”

39

DeeAnn peered over Juan’s shoulder at his laptop screen, watching as he typed.  He tried again and waited.  Finally, he shook his head and leaned back in the chair.

“Still nothing.  It’s dead.”

DeeAnn remained bent over.  “Maybe it’s a fluke,” she whispered.  “I mean internet lines go down, right?”

“Not like this,” he said.  “I can’t even ping the router.  Which means either a failure inside the building itself…”

“Or?”

Juan shrugged.  “Or we’ve been cut off.”  He checked his phone again.  “And we still have no cell signal.”

“Couldn’t they both be down at the same time?”

He nodded. “Yes, but these are two different signal types.  They could certainly both be plugged into the same bad power circuit but that would be the worst example of putting everything in one basket.”  He spun around, still keeping his voice low.  “And Alves doesn’t strike me as a person who cuts a lot of corners.”

“Maybe the power’s just out,” DeeAnn offered.  She turned to the small lamp on the table, then reached under the shade and rolled the switch.  It lit up immediately.  “Okay, maybe not.”

In another room, Alves and Blanco watched them from the high-definition feed of a hidden camera.  Both DeeAnn and Juan could be seen near the top of the picture, hunched over the desk in Juan’s small room.  It was difficult to see his computer screen, but their whispering was easily picked up by the camera’s microphone.

***

“Why don’t we just ask them?”

Juan could be seen looking at her sarcastically.  “Because then they would know that we know.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?”

“I think the sooner we get out of here, the better.  I have a feeling that this is all related to that monkey.  They sure wanted to find him awfully bad.”

DeeAnn nodded, almost reluctantly, before adding, “To find Luke.”

“At least that’s what they said.”  Juan leaned in closer to her, pressing his hands together thoughtfully.  “Let me ask you a question,” he whispered.  “First, let me say that I’m really sorry about your friend, Dee.  I really am.  But…do you really think he’s already…you know?”

“Gone?”

“Right.”  Juan watched DeeAnn’s composure deflate.

“I think so.”

He waited a moment before continuing.  “Well, if it’s true, what if Alves already knew that?”

DeeAnn’s eyes immediately grew wider.  “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking more about Dulce’s last translation from Dexter.”

She paused, trying to recall it.  “Friend die teacher?”

Juan nodded silently then leveled his gaze.  “If that little monkey is right, who do you think the ’friend’ is?”

The two sat silently, staring at each other.

There was a loud knock at the door.  They both jumped and spun around.  DeeAnn and Juan nervously watched the door but said nothing.  A few moments later, there was a second knock.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

“I don’t know!”

They remained frozen, making no sound.  Finally, they could hear the back and forth movement of the doorknob as it was turned from side to side.  Juan had locked it.  He shot to his feet and cleared his voice.

“Yes.  Who is it?”

The reply was muffled through the thick door.  “It’s Mateus.  Is Ms. Draper still with you?”

There was no point in lying.  “Yes.  Yes, she is.”

“May I come in?  I’d like to talk to you.”

He frowned worriedly at DeeAnn but moved hesitantly toward the door.  He reached out and unlocked the knob, then turned it and pulled the door open.  On the other side stood Alves in the doorway.  Behind him was Blanco, towering above his boss and wearing his usual stone-cold expression.

“May I come in?” Alves asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  Juan stepped to the side, feigning a welcoming gesture.

Both men immediately entered the room.  Alves smiled at DeeAnn, who stood near the window.  She grinned and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind one ear.

“Ah, hello, Ms. Draper.  How are you feeling?”

“Good.  Fine.”

“I’m very relieved.  We were quite worried about you.”

As Alves crossed the room, something about him seemed different.  She wasn’t sure whether something had changed or if it was her own nervousness.

“I’m fine, really.  Thank you.  I just needed some rest.  It’s been a hectic few days.”

“It has indeed,” agreed Alves.  “I’m sorry we’ve been so pressed.”  His smile was still on his face as he scanned the room.  He gazed at Juan’s open laptop and frowned.  “Still working hard, I see.”  He turned back to Juan.  “But not too hard, I hope.”

Juan shrugged.  “Oh, you know, just going through the logs again.”

Alves nodded.  “Of course.  Have you found anything interesting?”

“Not really,” Juan lied.  “Just standard system stuff.”

Alves grinned and stepped closer to the laptop.  He bent forward slightly, squinting to see the screen.  “Just finishing up, I guess.”  He turned back around.  “It’s been quite a day, yes?  I must say, it never occurred to me that Dexter was still here.”

DeeAnn shrugged.  “They are unpredictable.”

“Indeed.  I’ve been eager to hear what you found out this morning.  Was the communication with Dulce successful?”

DeeAnn looked at Juan before turning back to Alves, trying not to appear nervous.  It felt like she was failing, miserably.  “Not much yet, I’m afraid.  Mostly trying to establish some common words and trust.  I’m afraid it’s going to take a while, but it looks promising.”  DeeAnn felt a streak of panic rush through her.  She suddenly remembered what Juan told her: that they had set up a video camera to record them.  If true, it meant they undoubtedly would have heard Dulce’s words through the speaker on DeeAnn’s vest.  But if Alves knew she was lying, he didn’t let it show.

“Well, at least it’s a big step,” he said.  “I hope we can make progress quickly.  For Luke’s sake.”

DeeAnn, who had found herself nodding while Alves spoke, abruptly stopped.  His last line about Luke had an unmistakable tone.  It sounded like an insinuation.  DeeAnn’s nervousness came flooding back.  Did Alves know about Luke after all?  If he did, it meant he had been playing them all along.  She looked Alves over again and realized what it was that had changed.

“Where is your cane?” she asked.

There was a flash of genuine surprise as Alves looked down out of reflex.  He stopped and, with a smile, raised his head again.  “Very perceptive of you, Ms. Draper.”

If DeeAnn’s face showed a moment of faint smugness, it instantly disappeared when something in Alves’ voice changed.  His Portuguese accent was heavier.

Juan looked up at Blanco who, with arms folded, remained steadfast in front of the door.

Alves stood, thinking, and absently scratched above his eyebrow.  Finally, he grinned.  There was no more point to the facade.

“So, here we are,” he finally conceded.  “Planning an escape are we?”

DeeAnn checked Juan’s reaction, then put her hands on her hips and glared at Alves.  “Where is Luke?”

He breathed in and let it out slowly.  “Well, I’m afraid Luke Greenwood…was just a tad too difficult.”

DeeAnn felt a jolt to her heart.  Her eyes began to well up at the emotional confirmation that Luke was dead.  She knew now it was true.  Yet she could still feel part of herself struggling to find another possibility.  She felt a tear roll down her check but maintained her stance.  “You killed him?”

Alves grabbed the desk chair and sat down smoothly.  “I suppose there comes a time when we all must take a stand on what we believe in, no?”  He waved his hand casually as he spoke.  “I suppose you could say we found out what Luke’s stance was.”

DeeAnn shook her head defiantly.  Her eyes filling quickly with tears.  “You killed him, you bastard!”

Alves smirked, dismissing her without a hint of remorse.  “It was unavoidable.  I did try to reason with him.  But he remained an obstacle.”

“An obstacle?” she cried.  “An obstacle to what?  More power?  More money?  What happened…did he find out about some fraud you were involved in?!”

Alves surprised her with a burst of laughter.  He leaned back in his chair, recovering slowly.  “Oh, Ms. Draper, you are naïve.  You believe this is over a business deal?  Over money?  What a simple world you must live in.”  He reached up and wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his wrinkled eye.  “No, Mr. Greenwood didn’t have much business sense.  He was lucky to figure out his email.”  Alves shook his head, traces of laughter still on his face.  “You really have no idea what’s happening here, do you?”

“I know you’ve cut off our cellular and internet access, so we must know something we’re not supposed to.”

Alves laughed again but not as hard this time.  “And what is it that you know?” he challenged.

DeeAnn looked back to Juan.  The truth was that they hadn’t the slightest idea.  The only thing they really knew was that Alves killed Luke.  They had nothing else.

Alves watched her fumble.  “You haven’t even asked the question of why yet.”  He looked past her to Blanco, who remained as still as a rock, listening.  Alves’ laugh fell to a mild chuckle.  “Why would I go out of my way to bring you here?”

He watched with amusement as the question sank in and marveled at their naivety.  “I didn’t bring you here to find Luke, DeeAnn.”

She glared at his sarcasm.

“I brought you to find his monkey.  Dexter.”

“Why?”

“Dexter was Luke Greenwood’s stand.  His line.  It was Luke who let Dexter escape in the first place.  He was a smart man; I’ll give him that.  But as you know, his sense of ethics bordered on obsessive.  In the end, that was his liability, blinding himself to rational thought.  And more importantly, his own mortality.”

“Yeah,” DeeAnn was seething.  “Well, I’m sure it’s hard for someone like you to believe, but sometimes even innocent animals are worth dying for.”

Alves rolled his eyes.  “Please.  It wasn’t the monkey he gave his life for.  Dexter was merely a symbol.  No, Luke Greenwood gave his life for something much bigger.  I suppose he should be commended for that.  Even though he failed, thanks to you.”

DeeAnn was still confused.  “Failed?”

“Yes.  After all, you found the monkey he tried to free.  After Dexter’s accidental capture, Luke realized there was something very special about him.  They are exceedingly smart for monkeys.  Organ grinders, I believe you call them.  But this one had unusually high levels of intelligence and dexterity.  Luke said it was ‘off the charts.’  He became obsessive in studying the monkey and, in the end, even more rabid in his moral convictions to protect him.”  Alves’ eyes almost seemed to grow darker.  “It turned out that while Dexter may have been a symbol for Luke’s convictions, what Luke ultimately discovered about him proved to be a much bigger surprise.  A secret no one was expecting.”

“A secret worth killing for,” DeeAnn snarled.

Alves’ lips curled into a sordid grin.  “Very much so.  And thanks to you, one we have now recaptured.”

“So,” Juan spoke up, “bringing us here to find Dexter was just so you could figure out how to make yourself smarter?”

Alves suddenly laughed again, harder.  He pushed himself up and out of the chair.  “My, you Americans are dim.  No, Mr. Diaz, that’s not why you’re here.”  He motioned past them to Blanco, who smoothly removed a .40 caliber Glock from behind his back.  “Not even close.”

40

It was truly a pilgrimage and bigger than anything Alison could ever have imagined.  They had been surrounded by a veritable sea of dolphins for hours before IMIS picked up Dirk and Sally’s words again, calling to her.

The sun was steadily falling down toward the horizon when Alison finally slipped beneath the cool waves once again.  “Can you guys hear me?”

“We’re here, Ali.”  Lee reassured her through his microphone.  “Are you okay?”

“So far.”  Alison was surrounded by a wall of dolphins, all swirling around her, endlessly.  They all adjusted their path to keep just out of reach as if she were in her own bubble. As she descended in her small space, she could see glimpses of bright colors below.

It was once she passed thirty feet that the dolphins began to thin and disperse.  At forty feet, she broke out below them.  Dolphins were mammals, which meant lungs to breathe air.  Most activity was spent closer to the surface.  They could venture much deeper.  However, at the moment, Alison still felt as though she were swimming beneath a living, moving ceiling.

Yet, it was what she saw on the ocean floor that nearly drained the blood from her face.  The entire floor was a section of raised seabed spreading as far as her visibility could see.  But more than that, it was what covered the entire bottom: seagrass.

Different from seaweed, the seagrass was bright green in color and comprised of many forms of underwater vegetation, including flowers, roots and leaves.  The growth here was as dense as Alison had ever seen it, so green and lush that it almost glowed against a background of blue water.  Both in and above the seagrass were countless starfish, urchins, and crustaceans of dizzying numbers. There were life forms of all kinds, including billions of smaller fish with bright colors that resembled a giant underwater kaleidoscope.

Alison was stunned.  She simply floated in place, without a sound, taking in a landscape that was beyond green with sea life of every imaginable color.  It was not until she heard Lee and the others gasp over her headset that she managed to speak.

“Are you guys seeing this?!”

“Amazing!” whispered Lee.  Kelly and Chris were both staring over his shoulder at the monitor, transfixed.

Kelly slowly shook her head.  “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Beneath the boat, Dirk and Sally finally appeared next to Alison.  She glanced at them and tried to form words.  “It’s…incredible.”

See Alison, replied Sally.  World is good.  Beautiful.

Alison nodded.  “It is…beautiful.”  She simply could not believe how full and vibrant everything was.  “How long has this been here?” she whispered.

Dirk wiggled his tail.  Forever.

The entire crew sat on the back of the boat in the darkness, staring out over the water and the endless sea of frolicking dolphins.  With no moon out, only the stars were left to shine faintly across the choppy waves.

Chris held his empty plate while the others continued eating under the bright glow of the overhead deck lights.  “It looks so normal from up here.  No one would ever imagine what was below us.”

They all stopped and considered his words.  With a smile, Alison lowered her dish.  “Tomorrow you all have to go down.  You have to see it up close.”

Chris gripped an overhead stainless steel bar as he stood up and agreed, “Amen to that.”

***

Josias stood on the bow as they quietly motored through the mass of dolphins around them.  Something they had seen many times before during the same time of year.

But tonight Josias’ eyes were focused dead ahead.  The lights from the distant boat could be seen easily from several kilometers out.  He couldn’t tell what kind it was, but judging from the number of lights, it was most likely a small private craft.  He turned to look at the other two men behind him.  One stood at the wheel and the other was busily checking the AK-47s.  All three men were dressed in black.  The same color as their boat.

Josias didn’t meet the standard image of a pirate.  He was short and slight with fairly well-groomed dark hair. No one would ever take him for a murderer.  But why should they?  The handful of people he had killed were all unintentional.  They were victims of circumstance, usually a skipper or crewmember who tried to resist.  During a hijacking, even on a small yacht, things could get out of hand quickly.  But he wasn’t a monster.  He had remorse.  He regretted those people being dead, but he had rationalized long ago that it was their own stupid fault.  He was never looking to kill anyone.  Josias was simply looking to feed his family.

Many countries throughout the South Caribbean were heavily populated with poor, starving citizens.  Subjected to bad political regimes and devastating storms, life throughout the islands was hard.  Much harder than for the yacht owners.  If they could afford such an expensive boat, they sure as hell could afford the insurance to go with it.  And some were still dumb enough to resist.

Of course, Carlo was probably largely to blame.  Josias looked back to Carlo at the stern and watched as he lowered one rifle then picked up another, making sure each was fully loaded.  Josias and their skipper, Junior, were both men just trying to keep their families alive, but Carlo was very different.  Carlo had no family.  He was young, big, and grew up sleeping on the streets of Haiti.  He learned at a young age that the only way to get ahead was to find what you needed and take it; by using more force than the person you were taking from.

Carlo glanced up and caught Josias’ eye, still watching him.  He smiled and made a crazed, hungry motion with the AK still in his hands.  He then laughed and set it down, picking up a third rifle.  For Carlo, it wasn’t just about surviving.  He liked to hurt the people.  Something his large size made all too easy.

Junior, their skipper, standing next to Carlo, kept his head down.  Like Josias, he hoped it was a quick raid.  And that Carlo was in a good mood.

With less than two kilometers left, Josias grabbed the old rusted lifeline and made his way back to the cockpit.  It looked like it was going to be a good score.

***

Alison sat on the bench seat at the main table, casually observing Lee’s work on his laptop.  She leaned back against the thin cushion and watched Kelly help Chris with the dishes.  He made a joke, and Kelly feigned a look of shock before pushing him playfully.

Alison shook her head.  She couldn’t tell whether there was something more than friendship there.  Chris had a few years on her, but Kelly had a great mature, yet playful, way about her.  Not to mention a tall, curvy figure.

Lee continued typing but curled his lip, knowing what Alison was thinking.  When she leaned forward to speak to him, he stopped typing.

“Lee, when we go down again tomorrow, can you record the video?”

“I should be able to.  The signal was a little weak with all the dolphins in the way, but it may still be strong enough to get a good picture.”

“Good.  If anything is worth recording, this is.”

“You can say that again.”

Alison let herself fall gently back against the cushion again.  She was in a great mood.  Everything was going well.   They still had more than enough food and fuel, the weather was holding, and IMIS was working well…with a few exceptions, of course.  Although, it was peculiar that she hadn’t heard from DeeAnn recently.  She no doubt had her own hands full.

“Any more ideas on how long it might take to give IMIS the ability to differentiate between more than two dolphins?”

Lee let a burst of air out of his mouth as he considered the question.  “That’s a good question.  A couple months maybe, including testing.  I’m presuming you want that as a priority.”

Alison gave him an exaggerated smile.  “Please.”

“You do realize I have about a dozen things for you, all sharing the number one spot.”

“It’s because you’re just so amazing!” she teased.

“Yeah, tell that to my wife.”

Alison tilted her head and wrapped her arms around her bare knees.  “Speaking of whom, aren’t you supposed to call her?”

“I will.  I didn’t want to run down the battery on the sat-phone before you called John.”

“Very funny,” she squinted.

“Hey,” Chris called out to the pair from his position at the sink.  “Anyone mind if I put on some tunes?”

“Please do.”  Alison jumped from the seat and walked toward the steps.  “I’m going to take a shower.”  With that, she grabbed Chris’ music player and handed it to him as she headed downstairs.

It was less than twenty minutes before they heard it or, rather, felt it.  With the music playing loudly, no one had the slightest idea that a vessel was approaching.  It wasn’t until Kelly felt the slight bump on the side of their boat that anyone looked outside.  By then it was too late.

The three darkly clad men silently coasted their aging speedboat in, next to the side of the Prowler catamaran.  Junior, with line in hand, was already tying the boats together by the time Carlo and Josias jumped aboard.  When they reached the sliding cabin door, Kelly was just stepping out to investigate.

Without the slightest hesitation, Carlo grabbed her with his giant fist, pulled her forcefully out into the cockpit, and threw Kelly to the deck.

“Kelly?”  Chris’ voice called from inside upon hearing something hit the cockpit’s thick fiberglass floor.

Instantly, Chris was pulled out next into the darkness, but much harder this time.  He stumbled forward and tripped over Kelly, smashing headfirst into one of the hard bench seats and careening sideways.

“What the-” was all he got out before Carlo stepped in and hit him hard in the face with the buttstock of his AK-47.

“Shut up!” Carlo growled.  He turned back and forced the sliding door completely open.

Lee’s shocked expression kept him still just long enough for Carlo to step inside and level the barrel of his gun at Lee’s chest.  Outside, at the same time, Josias stepped smoothly over Chris and jammed his muzzle into his back.

Carlo stepped closer to Lee and held a finger over his lips.  “How many aboard?” he whispered, in a thick Haitian accent.

Lee stared at him and decided lying was a bad idea.  They would probably search the boat anyway.  Something told Lee that the beast standing in front of him didn’t like surprises.  Without a word, Lee held up four fingers.

41

All four were sprawled on the floor of the cockpit.  With hands bound behind their backs, they lay as Carlo and Josias searched the boat for valuables.  The two quickly rounded up the jerry cans of fuel and most of the food.

Josias was downstairs, staring at the IMIS servers, when Carlo came in behind him.

“What are those, computers?”

Josias nodded.  “Expensive ones.”

“Can we sell them?”

“Yes.  My cousin would buy them.”

“Fine.”  Carlo quickly scanned the rest of the confined cabin and ducked back out.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back up top and furious.  They were expecting much more than a few phones and computer tablets.  The diving equipment and computers were the only things of considerable value.  For a boat that nice, it was beginning to look like a major bust.

Carlo stood over Alison and the others, fuming.  There had to be more.  They were hiding something.

He looked at Lee and kicked him hard in the stomach.  “Where is it?!” he yelled.

Lee shuddered violently from the pain.  He coughed up some spittle and struggled to speak.  “Where’s…what?”

“Money!  You have some, I know it!”

“We don’t!” cried Alison.  “I swear.”

Josias stood off to the side and sneered.  “Bullsheet.”  His accent was even stronger.

“I swear we don’t.  We’re researchers.”

Carlo turned and stared at Josias.  There was a brief moment of silence when the satellite phone suddenly rang behind them.

Carlo leaned through the door and spotted the ringing phone on the counter.  Its buttons were lit in a bright orange hue while it continued ringing.

He turned and peered back down at Alison.  “Who is calling?”

Alison, still partially on her side, twisted around but wasn’t even close to the phone.  “I have no idea.”

“Yeah?” Carlo cried.  He reached in and grabbed the phone, then stepped back outside.  “You don’t know?”

“No,” Alison sighed.  “Maybe you should answer it.”

Carlo examined the phone, still ringing.  He scoffed and, in an instant, flung it overboard into the ocean.

***

Steve Caesare finished dinner and returned down the narrow hallway toward their rooms.  When he reached the end, he spotted Clay’s open door and peered inside.  Clay was sitting on the small bunk with one knee propped up and an arm resting across the top.  On the bed next to Clay was the small, flat silver cube.

“Any ideas yet?”

Clay raised an eyebrow at him and looked down at the cube.  “Not yet.”

“You’ll get it,” Caesare winked.  “You always do.”

Clay reacted as though he might chuckle.  “You know this isn’t like a word puzzle.”

“Really?  I thought it was a deck of cards.”

Clay smiled.  “If it is, then it’s a pain to shuffle.”

“I bet,” Caesare said, with a brief laugh.  He motioned to Clay’s dangling hand, which was holding a phone.  “Talk to Alison?”

Clay turned back.  “No.  She’s not answering.”

“Did you tell her to keep it on?”

“I did,” Clay replied, with a slow and deliberate nod.

Caesare looked curiously at the phone again.  “How many times did you try?”

“Four.”  Clay shook his head.  “It’s not like her.”

“Where was their last position?”

“Just a little east of Trinidad.”

“Really?!  What are they doing so far south?

Clay stared at the wall in front of him before turning back to Caesare.  “Where’s Borger?”

***

Josias finally dropped the last of the servers onto the cockpit floor with a “clunk.”  The pile was nearly waist high with all three servers, the diving gear, the boat’s marine radio that had been ripped out, all navigational instruments, fuel, some food, and several electronic devices.  Not a huge bounty, but it turned out not to be a complete loss either.  Josias twisted his wrist and glanced at the watch he’d taken off Chris.  They had less than four hours before first light, and they were going to need all of it to put as much distance possible between them and the Prowler.  He just needed to get Carlo off before things got any worse.

Just then, Carlo stepped back outside behind them.  He dropped the boat’s water maker onto the pile in disgust.  Four people had to have more than this, but he couldn’t find anything else.  He’d beaten the two men, but they revealed nothing more than what they’d already found.  But there was still one more thing.

He glanced at Josias standing next to him with his rifle slung loosely over one shoulder.  Junior was now on their boat, leaning over the edge with a hand on the side on the Prowler waiting to bring things aboard.

“It’s getting late,” Josias said.  “We have to go.”

Carlo checked his own watch.  “Not yet.”  With a snarl, he looked at the four people still bound and gagged on the floor.  The men’s faces were beginning to turn black and blue.  One of them looked to be unconscious.  He turned to the two women, lying still at his feet.

Josias watched with grim acceptance as Carlo’s face took on a seething, sickening appearance.  The women on the floor were both exceptionally attractive, and he was hoping Carlo’s reluctance to harm them was intentional.  But now, watching him stare at them on the floor, Josias knew he was wrong.

Carlo’s upper lip seemed to curl up strangely, revealing his mangled teeth.  He abruptly reached down, pulled Kelly up off the floor, and flung her over his back.  Without a word, he marched back inside and down the stairs to one of the bedrooms.  Less than a minute later, he came back for Alison.

He dropped Alison onto the mattress next to Kelly.  Both lay on their backs, neither able to move their hands beneath them.

They both watched in horror as Carlo turned and slammed the cabin door shut.  When he stepped toward them, he realized why both had remained so calm outside.

Both women were saving their energy, and almost at once, they released it in a torrent.  They began kicking Carlo with every ounce of strength they had, beating him in the chest and face, sending him stumbling backward.

***

Outside, Josias shook his head and set his rifle down.  He picked up two of the heavy jerry cans and scurried to the port side.

Junior straightened up and pulled harder on the line to retie the two boats together.  A warm wind was picking up and the two vessels were trying to drift away from each other.

It was the wind that helped.  That and the struggling women below deck, of course.  Together, along with the sound of the waves around them, both Josias and Junior were prevented from hearing the sound until it was almost on top of them.

The sound of helicopter rotor blades.

42

“Carlo!”  Josias burst in through the cabin door.  “We have trouble!”

Carlo jumped and whirled around.  Behind him, Josias could see the shorter woman’s blouse was torn, exposing her bikini top underneath.  Carlo didn’t bother replying.  He followed Josias back out and up the short set of steps.   From there, they ran back out into the darkness to find a giant Oceanhawk helicopter circling the boat.

“Shit!” cried Carlo.  He turned and followed the helicopter as it circled less than a hundred yards away around the port side of the boat, then the stern.  “Is it the Coast Guard?”

Junior shook his head.  “I think it’s their Navy.”

“Throw me a light,” Carlo barked.

Junior rushed to a nearby storage compartment and lifted the old lid.  He withdrew a giant flashlight and swung his arm out, throwing it across.

Carlo snatched the light out of the air and turned it on, still watching the chopper as it began another slow circle around the boat.  The light was bright enough to partially illuminate the aircraft and revealed the giant side door that was open.  Sitting on the inside, someone was leaning out with half of his face behind the night vision scope of an M40A5 sniper rifle.

They remained frozen, continuing to follow the helicopter as it slowly circled a third time, then a fourth.  When it completed the fifth circle, the Oceanhawk slowed and stopped near the stern, hovering in place.  Steve Caesare, holding the M40A5 rifle tight against his shoulder, never wavered.

The three men gripped their AK-47s tightly.  Carlo glanced around the Prowler’s cockpit.  It was a mess.  There was no chance of lying their way out of this.  He let his finger find the trigger guard on the gun, then snake its way around the trigger.  “Don’t do anything!”  Carlo yelled over the thundering blades.  “Wait and see what they do.”

No one moved for a long time.  They waited, continuing to watch the helicopter that was still hovering.

Finally, Josias twisted his mouth toward Carlo.  “What are they doing?”

“I don’t know.”  Carlo continued staring.  The U.S. military was ruthless.  They would not be fooled no matter how fast he talked.  To them, attacking an American boat was basically an act of war.  There was no chance of getting off the boat easily with a Navy helicopter and sniper overhead.  They would have to make their own exit.  “How many do you see?” he asked loudly.

“Just one,” Josias replied.

“Junior?”

Junior looked carefully into the flashlight’s beam, still shining against the helicopter.  “I see only one.”

Carlo’s eye narrowed.  He was no scholar, but he could count.  The sniper might be a good shot, but if the three of them opened fire at the same time, two of them might get away.  Especially if they could make it to the launcher on their boat.  “Junior,” he said, looking sideways.  “Start the engine.”

Junior began to move but quickly froze again.  Carlo growled at him for not following orders but suddenly saw the look on Junior’s face.  With eyes wide, he was staring across the boat and over Carlo’s right shoulder.

Josias turned and gasped as well, forcing Carlo to slowly turn around.  A man was standing on the white fiberglass roof of the Prowler’s salon.  He was dressed in black fatigues, which were soaked and dripping with water.  Carlo stared briefly at the man’s bare feet and quickly followed them up his legs to the barrel of an M4 assault rifle. There was no doubt where it was pointed.  It was aimed directly at Carlo’s head.

John Clay spoke from behind the sights.  “Don’t…move.”

They didn’t.  They remained very still, moving only with the gentle rocking of the boat.  Carlo could clearly see Clay’s finger on the M4’s trigger.

From the roof, Clay glanced down into the cockpit.  “Where are the women?”

“Down below.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

Clay looked directly at Carlo.  “Tell your men to throw their guns in the water.”

Carlo repeated the command, and both Josias and Junior threw their AKs over the stern into the dark rolling waves.

“Now you do the same.”

Carlo complied, reluctantly.

Clay kept his right finger on the trigger and reached up to his ear with his left hand.  He pressed the small ear bud in firmly.  “You there, Steve?”

“Affirmative.”

“Light ‘em up.”

A moment later, a bright red dot from Caesare’s scope appeared on Carlo’s back.

Clay turned to Carlo and his men.  “Face down on the deck.  Hands flat on the back of your head.  Right now.”

All three simultaneously dropped onto their stomachs and reached back behind their heads, as instructed.

The red dot from Caesare’s rifle followed Carlo down, where it continued dancing within a small circle on his back.

Clay stepped back and raised his weapon.  He spoke to Caesare, loudly enough for the others to hear.  “They’re yours.  If one of them so much as raises his head, take it off.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

With that, Clay instantly turned and ducked inside.

He quickly scanned the salon and ran down the starboard stairs, searching both cabins.  Nothing.  He ran back up, across the salon, and down into the port hull.  There he saw both women bound on the bed, struggling to get the gags out of their mouths.

Clay rushed into the cabin and grabbed Alison, checking her for injuries.  Seeing none, he eased the gag out and turned to Kelly.  She had a small laceration on her cheek, but otherwise looked unharmed.

“John!” Alison sputtered, clearing her mouth.

“You okay, honey?”

“What are you doing here?”

“We weren’t that far away.”  Removing the gag from Kelly’s jaws, he then gently rolled her over and withdrew a large knife from behind his back.  It sliced through the duct tape effortlessly.  “Are you hurt, Kelly?”

She felt her cut.  “It could be a lot worse.”

Clay turned to free Alison.  After returning the knife to its sleeve, he grabbed her and pulled her in close.  She wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

Clay smiled and pushed Alison back just enough to kiss her.

After a long moment, Alison leaned back with warm, watery eyes.  “I think you forgot your shining armor.”

Clay smiled at her attempt at humor, before standing back up.  “Too heavy.  I left it on the chopper.”  He pulled both women to their feet.  “I need to check on Chris and Lee.”

As he reached out and pushed the door back, Caesare’s voice broke in over his headset.  “Clay, we’ve got an urgent call from Langford.”

“Take a message.”

Back up top, Clay found Chris just regaining consciousness.  Clay double-checked his pulse and removed the tape from his hands.  He then gently bent one of Chris’ knees and rolled him onto his side.  He retrieved a cushion from a nearby seat, sliding it under his head.

Lee’s face, like Chris’, was covered in cuts that were beginning to bruise.  Clay freed his hands and helped him up into a sitting position.  He lightly patted down his legs, looking for anything else.  “Anything hurt?”

Lee shook his head.  “Not below my head.”  He forced a smile through his cut lips.  “I’m very glad to see you, Mr. Clay.”

Clay smiled and rose up.  He clapped Lee gently on the shoulder.  “So am I, Lee.”

He found the tape inside the cabin and knelt back down, jamming the ball of his knee painfully into Carlo’s back.  Pulling the man’s arms down behind him, Clay wrapped them together tightly at the wrist.  He then moved to the other two.

When Clay finally stood back up, Caesare’s red dot disappeared.  A few minutes later, the helicopter drifted over the boat, allowing Caesare to rappel down.  He unclipped and stepped over Chris with Kelly kneeling at his side.

Caesare crossed the cockpit and stopped next to Carlo.  With one of his boots, he dug into Carlo’s gut and forced him over onto his back.  Caesare squatted down next to the Haitian and looked into his dark eyes.  There was no trace of remorse.

He raised his voice over the thundering helicopter above.  “You sure picked the wrong boat, eh?”

Carlo jerked his head up and spat, but Caesare’s reaction was instant.  He drove a powerful fist straight into Carlo’s face, slamming his head against the cockpit floor.

Caesare stood up, watching Carlo’s eyes roll upward.  He came in close to Alison so she could hear him and nodded out toward the swirling water.  “Any chance dolphins would eat a human?”

“I wish.”

He frowned and then addressed Clay.  “Langford says you need to get back to the Bowditch, pronto.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“He said it was urgent.  He asked me to apologize to Alison.”  He looked at her.  “Which is rare for the Admiral.  Don’t worry, John, I’ll stay and bring them in.”

Alison gripped Clay’s arm. “Do you have to go right this second?”

He peered at the Oceanhawk with its blades still beating the air above them.  One of the pilots had his helmet against his side window, looking down and waiting.

“I’m afraid so,” he sighed.  “They’re burning fuel.”  Clay sized up the jerry cans in front of him.  “You should have more than enough to reach the Bowditch.”

He surprised Alison when he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a long kiss.  “You’ll be fine with Steve.  He should have you to the ship by noon at the latest.  Just get some rest and take care of Lee and Chris.”

“Okay, we will.”

He nodded at Caesare.  “The bag is on the bow.”

Clay smiled at Kelly before grabbing the harness, still lying on the deck.  He clipped himself in, grabbed the rope, and gave the signal to raise him.

From the deck, Alison watched Clay quickly ascend towards the helicopter.  From there, the copilot reached out and pulled him in, not letting go until Clay got his footing.

The front of the helicopter immediately dipped forward and accelerated.  Within moments, it was gone, and the thundering blades faded into the night.

***

Carlo fell hard, striking his face against the filthy deck of his speedboat.  The craft was larger than one would have expected, which meant it was likely stolen from a previous victim.

“Whoops.  Sorry about that,” Caesare said, then dropped Josias next to Carlo with the same force and bounced him off Junior, who was already face down.

Caesare turned and stepped back over the side.  With a short hop, he landed on the edge of the Prowler and stepped down next to one of the seats.  He opened Clay’s large waterproof bag and withdrew a Springfield .40 caliber semi-automatic.  Before he returned to the speedboat, he glanced over his shoulder to Alison and Kelly, who were both watching.  “Cover your ears.”

They watched him hop back into the other boat. The women suddenly froze when he pointed the gun down and, without hesitation, rapidly unloaded the entire magazine.

Oh, my god!  Alison stood horrified.  They were both speechless…until Caesare reached down and turned something.  He then pulled up on a large panel, which looked to have over a dozen neatly placed holes in it.

It was one of the panels to the engine compartment.  Even without direct light, Caesare could make out the dark fluids squirting out of the thick damaged hoses and pooling at the bottom of the compartment.  With a satisfied nod, he dropped the panel and let it clang shut.  “That’ll do.”

The men were still watching wide-eyed from the floor of their boat when Caesare crossed back over, untied the line, and pushed off.

As they floated away, he called out a heartfelt, “Bon voyage!”

43

It was still dark when deckhands guided the Oceanhawk down onto the Bowditch’s pad.  Clay slid the heavy door open and jumped down beneath the slowing rotor blades.  He trotted to the base of the metal stairs where Neely Lawton was waiting for him.

“They’re waiting for us,” she said, waving him up the stairs as she started climbing.  Clay followed her up and checked his watch.  It was four thirty-five a.m.

When they reached the small conference room, Captain Krogstad and Will Borger were already seated at the table.  On-screen were a tired looking Admiral Langford and Merl Miller.  Kathryn Lokke appeared surprisingly alert.

Clay and Lawton sat down on opposite sides, keeping all of them just within frame of the small camera above the monitor.

“Everyone,” Krogstad said, “I’d like to introduce Commander Neely Lawton, our resident biology expert and head of the research team aboard this ship.  She is the one who requested this meeting.  I can also assure you she is as sharp as they come.”

If the introduction bothered Lawton, she didn’t show it.  Only Langford knew that she was also Krogstad’s daughter.

Lawton cleared her voice.  “I’m sorry to bother all of you at this early hour, but I have some information that I think you will all agree warranted an immediate call.  As you know, my team has been studying the sample which Commander Clay brought aboard from one of the Chinese trucks.”  She pressed a button on her laptop and a picture of the sample appeared on the monitor for all to see.

“Now, please be aware that we have had less than forty-eight hours to study it, so for all intents and purposes this should be considered a preliminary finding.”  She paused for any questions.  Receiving none, she continued.  “We began with tests on all of the plant cells’ organelles: nucleus, ribosomes, mitochondria, everything.  Finding nothing unusual, we then examined the plant’s chloroplast and thylakoid spaces and measured its photosynthesis properties.”

“And?” asked Langford.

“Its photosynthesis capacity appears to be above average, but not by much.”

“So, you’re saying there is nothing special about its photosynthesis?” Langford asked.

“Correct.  Nor is there any significant oil composition or production that we can detect. Again, this is a preliminary examination.  There are still more tests to carry out, but I can say with some degree of confidence that these initial measurements are accurate.”

Miller rubbed his eyes.  “Commander Lawton, I presume there is at least something noteworthy for us to discuss on this call.”

“Yes, sir.  After finding nothing in the preliminary tests, we decided to dig deeper.  As you may know, DNA has already been mapped for many modern plants, but to do a complete mapping here would take months, even in a larger laboratory.  But we did study its chromosomes.  In particular: their lengths, the position of centromeres, and branding patterns.  The name of this kind of study is called karyology, and we found something interesting.”

“The somatic cells of humans, as we all know, have forty-six chromosomes.  Orangutans and gorillas have forty-eight.  Animals like bears and wolves range through the sixties and seventies.  Plants, on the other hand, generally have a lot less.  So these somatic numbers vary from species to species.”

Miller nodded.  “I presume you are going to tell us how many our mystery plant has?”

“Eighteen, sir,” was Lawton’s reply.  “But the number is not all that important.  What is important is the behavior of those chromosomes.  My intention is not to turn this call into a biology lesson, but I thought it worthwhile to refresh everyone’s memory on a few subjects.  Chromosomes are organized structures of existing DNA and proteins.  They essentially package portions of DNA and control its various functions.”

“The reason for my primer is that we found something interesting regarding the chromosomal behavior of Commander Clay’s plant.  As a matter of fact, ‘interesting’ wouldn’t be the right word.  What we found is rather staggering, and it has to do with a very specific part of the chromosome.”

“And what part is that?”

Lawton glanced at the screen with a hint of apprehension.  “Telomeres, sir.”

Langford watched Clay and Borger look at each other.  “What’s a telomere?” he asked.

“Telomeres are nucleotide sequences that reside at the end of each of our cell’s chromosomes.  They act as a sort of ‘cap’ to prevent problems when DNA is replicated.  For example, during cell division, when chromosomes are replicated, it’s the telomere caps that protect against accidental mutation or fusion with each other.  Every chromosome has them, and the telomeres grow slightly shorter with each new replication.”

Lawson continued.  “About fifteen years before their discovery, a man named Hayflick discovered that there was a finite limit to these cellular divisions, after which the cells would simply stop replicating and die.  It’s called the ‘Hayflick Limit.’  Telomeres were discovered to literally be the switch behind the Hayflick Limit.  Telomeres grow shorter and shorter with each replication until they reach a critical point.  That point or limit is the switch, which disables the ability for cells and chromosomes to replicate any further.  It’s the point that we humans refer to as ‘old age.’ ”

“Over the last few decades, researchers have been trying to find ways to turn that switch off.  To allow the cells to continue replicating.  As it currently stands, all cell types, except for one, have these limits which force them to die and subsequently brings on the terminal decline of old age.”

The room became quiet while everyone digested Lawton’s explanation.  Kathryn Lokke was the first to lean forward and speak.  “You said there was one type of cell that didn’t have these limits?”

“That’s right,” Lawton nodded.  “But it’s not that the cell doesn’t have a limit.  It’s that its switch has been turned off.  In other words, their telomeres don’t grow shorter as they are supposed to.  This allows the cells to continue dividing indefinitely to a point of immortalization.”  She paused and took a short breath.  “I’m talking about cancer cells.”

Everyone looked at Lawton with a startled expression as she continued.

“Cancer cells have DNA that has been damaged through a process of mutation, a process that we still don’t understand.  But it allows the cells to live for an extremely long time.  In fact, there is one infamous line of cancer cells that never die.”

“You’re talking about the HeLa cells,” Borger said.

“That’s right,” Lawton nodded.  “The HeLa cells are named after a woman named Henrietta Lacks.  She died of cancer but not before her doctor took a biopsy from her cancerous tumor.  It turned out to be one of the most surprising discoveries in the field of cytology.  The cells from her tumor simply won’t die.  In virtually any environment, they continued to replicate indefinitely.  They are still alive today and are the most widely distributed cell culture in history.  There was an interesting book written on the subject not too long ago.”

“Okay,” Miller said, peering into his camera.  “So what does this have to do with Clay’s plant?”

“Well, not surprisingly, the behavior in cancer cells has captured the imaginations of many researchers around the world.  If telomeres can somehow be intentionally deactivated to allow cell replication to continue, perhaps they can achieve what cancer cells have already managed to do: perpetual cell replication, but this time in healthy cells.”

Miller frowned, thoughtfully.  “You mean, as in stopping diseases?”

“No, sir,” Lawton replied simply.  “I mean as in stopping the aging process itself.”

Everyone on-screen and in the room stared at Lawton, frozen.  Everyone except Borger.

Neely Lawton waited for questions but receiving none, continued again.  “For some time, scientists have been trying to find a way to turn off the automatic shortening of telomeres when they replicate.  Or, perhaps as in the process of telomerase, to re-lengthen them.  Researchers are getting closer, but ultimately telomerase is an interventionist approach.  The holy grail would be something much more holistic.”  She turned and looked at Clay.  “Enter Commander Clay’s plant.”

Lawton reached out to her laptop.  “The plant sample Mr. Clay delivered may provide the answer.  On the screen is a picture of the plant we received.”  She typed a command on the keyboard and a second picture appeared on the screen.  “And this is the same plant now.  Less than forty-eight hours later.”

“Oh, my god,” mumbled Langford.

Lokke was equally stunned.  “That’s the same plant?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lawton replied.  Forcing herself to stay calm, she clicked a button and enhanced both images.  “As you can see, the second picture of the plant is noticeably larger than the first.”

“Unbelievable.”

Lawton couldn’t help but grin.  “This plant is the first one I’ve ever seen with the same telomere disabling properties that cancer cells have.  But unlike cancer cells, it doesn’t kill the host.”

“And that’s why it’s growing?” asked Lokke.

“Actually, no.”  The excitement in Lawton’s voice was now obvious.  “There is something even more exciting about this plant.  Not only are the telomeres disabled but, somewhere in the gene sequence, the replication schedule is wildly accelerated.  This means that not only does it not have a Hayflick Limit…its genetic code is programmed to replicate much faster than that of a normal plant cell.  You can see this in the picture.  Not only is the torn leaf regenerating itself, but it’s actually in the process of re-growing a new stem and root system!”

This time even Borger was surprised.  “Whoa!”

“I take it this never happens either,” Miller asked, rhetorically.

“Actually it does, sir.  Just not this fast.  Many known plant types can propagate into a new plant. But not this fast and they don’t regenerate their missing parts.  In fact, if I had to guess, I would estimate that Commander Clay’s plant here will regrow itself entirely in a couple weeks, maybe less.”

Langford stared at the pictures on his screen for a long time.  “So that’s what the Chinese have found.”

“And why they’ve been so secretive,” added Miller.

Lawton nodded.  “You can all see now why I deemed this call urgent.”

“Commander Lawton,” Clay spoke up.  “What would you say are the scientific ramifications of this?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head, considering the question.  “Generally speaking, I’d say pretty darn big.  As far as I know, the characteristics of this plant are something no one else has seen anywhere else on the planet.  I mean just the speed at which its cells are replicating make cancer cells look slow.  Theoretically, if this process can be harnessed or replicated, or even somehow distilled, I cannot even begin to imagine its possibilities.  Reversing disease is one thing, but the ability to completely arrest the aging process at the cellular level is…well,” she shrugged, “into the realm of fantasy.”

“Jesus,” Langford muttered, leaning forward into his hand.

Kathryn Lokke cleared her throat.  “Ms. Lawton, I know you said you haven’t had time yet to fully examine or test this sample.  Is there any chance at all that we’re wrong here?  I mean the picture obviously speaks for itself, but is there any chance that we’ve misdiagnosed what’s causing this?”

“Yes, there could be other factors,” Lawton nodded.  “But given the tests we’ve already run, I would be very surprised to find another explanation.  What is far more important, however, is the possibility of whether these chromosomal attributes can be crossbred with other plants.  Which I bet is exactly what the Chinese are thinking.  If so, that is one enormous game changer!”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is we could be talking about something that virtually any country on earth would be willing to go to war to obtain.  An entire agricultural system comprised of plants that never die.  Imagine what that would be worth.  But what’s really frightening is the question of whether these DNA attributes can be transferred beyond just plants.”

“Is that even possible?!”

Lawton stared at the screen.  “I’m not sure if it is or isn’t, but considering what we’ve already accomplished with genetic engineering, it may very well be in the realm of possibility.”

On the screen, Lokke took a deep breath before turning her attention back to Langford.  “Well, Admiral, I guess the only question now is what we do about it?”

Langford thought it over.  “Secretary Miller and I need to make some calls.  This is going to require a full cabinet briefing, and quickly.  Mr. Borger, have you been able to pinpoint a location yet?”

“I believe so.  It’s hard to see through the thick canopy, but I believe the source is approximately one hundred and twenty miles into the Guyana rainforest.  Due south and about fifteen hundred feet in elevation.  At least that’s where their trucks stop.”

Langford nodded.  “Okay, I want you and Clay to continue gathering whatever intelligence you can on the location.  Doctor Lokke, please continue to gather and prepare your team but remain on standby for now.”  He leaned forward with a grave expression.  “And Captain Krogstad, do NOT under any circumstances, allow that corvette out of dock!”

44

The damp morning chill hung in the air as Alves’ goon, Blanco, escorted DeeAnn up the grassy slope toward the helicopter.  His grip around her upper arm was like a vice and felt as though it was beginning to cut off her circulation.

Still, she tried to remain calm for Dulce’s sake.  DeeAnn’s hand was wrapped tenderly around the small gorilla’s, which was squeezing her hand firmly.  She could sense the nervousness in Dulce’s hold.

Alves was standing near the giant helicopter, an AgustaWestland AW101.  It was one of the most expensive private helicopters on the market.  One look inside would explain why.  It looked more like the interior of a private jet than a helicopter.

DeeAnn paid no attention to the aircraft.  Instead, she glared angrily at Alves, who appeared to have changed dramatically from the man she first met.  He no longer made an effort to hide his real accent, nor was there even the slightest hint of compassion in his eyes.  His face now looked dark and stone-like.  The transformation was truly sickening.

They reached the short set of metal stairs and were pushed forward by Blanco without pause, sending both DeeAnn and Dulce stumbling up and into the cabin.  Behind them, they heard a screaming Dexter approaching.  He was being toted up the hill in a cage, by one of Blanco’s henchmen.

Inside, DeeAnn hated having to put Dulce back into a cage, but she had no choice.  It was for her own good, and frankly Alves and his men were no longer here to help.  They were simply giving orders.

DeeAnn closed the metal door behind Dulce until it clicked shut.  She then turned and sat down in the next seat, looking at Blanco and noting the large gun in his holster.  DeeAnn turned away and peered out the window, back towards the large building.  There was no sign of Juan.  Why would there be?  She didn’t expect to see him, yet it made her feel even sicker to her stomach.

As it turned out, Alves’ men did record some of the communication between Dulce and Dexter.  And they knew exactly what Dexter had revealed.  There was no hiding it now.  That, along with Alves’ devastating admission the evening before, exposed just how little freedom she and Juan ever really had.

From the very beginning, they were there for a purpose.  Any appearance of a collaborative effort was strictly intended to get them on the plane and away from Puerto Rico.  Alves was after Dexter all along, for very different reasons.  And DeeAnn and Dulce were little more than Alves’ bait.

Now the game had become deadly.  Juan was being held until DeeAnn and Dulce fulfilled their orders.  Of that, Alves was imminently clear.  And he promised them that if they refused, Juan would be dead within minutes.

DeeAnn closed her eyes and tried desperately to keep it together.  Dulce was on the verge of an anxiety attack, Juan was being held at gunpoint, and yet DeeAnn somehow had to get Dexter to lead them to some place that no one but the monkey had ever been before: his home in the jungle.

Dexter’s cage was lifted inside and slid in next to Dulce.  The small capuchin quickly scrambled back to the far corner of his cage and fearfully wrapped his tail over his mouth.

After several more minutes, Blanco and two of his men, including the handler of Dexter’s cage, climbed in and sat in seats at the front.  They watched DeeAnn and the two primates with an expression of dark ambivalence.

Alves had a word with the pilots before sitting down in a rear facing seat directly across from DeeAnn.

“Are you at least going to tell me why?” she sneered.

Alves barely reacted.  “What exactly do you feel you need to know?”

“Why are you trying to find out where Dexter came from?  What is so damn special about him that made you kill Luke over it?”

Shadows appeared through the cabin windows as the extra-long blades of the chopper overhead began to turn.  They flashed eerily over Alves’ face as the motion accelerated.

“And I suppose you think this knowledge will somehow help you in your effort with the monkey?” Alves asked sarcastically.

“It might.”

Alves shook his head, irritated, but he relented.  “Your ignorance knows no bounds.  Luke knew the monkey was special.  That was very obvious from his intelligence alone.  But other things indicated there was something more.  Things like his hair and teeth.  They suggested that Dexter was much older than expected, given the normal lifespan of capuchins.”  Alves paused and glanced out the window as they felt the helicopter lift off the ground.  “So Luke did a DNA test.  He wanted to match it against the current gene mapping for capuchins.  But he found something none of us were expecting.  Something that made everything else pale in comparison.”

“That he was smarter than you?”

The old Alves would have at least grinned at the insult.  This Alves simply looked at her with increased irritation.  “He found that the monkey’s gene sequencing was different.  It wasn’t just older than normal, it was a lot older!”

The nasty look on DeeAnn’s face fell away as an innate curiosity overtook her.  “How old?”

“Most capuchins live a maximum age of twenty-five years in the wild.  But your Luke Greenwood was convinced that Dexter was well over a hundred.”

45

Admiral Langford kept his head against the headrest, trying to relax in the back seat of the town car.  He rolled it sideways and peered out of one of the darkened windows.  Even at six a.m., the traffic heading into downtown Washington, D.C., was beginning to slow with congestion.  The only consolation was knowing that several others from the President’s security cabinet were having to endure the same conditions.

The folder on the seat next to him was filled with copies of pictures, diagrams, and the hasty write-up sent over by Commander Lawton after their call.  Given how rapidly the cabinet meeting was put together, only the President and Vice President had an inkling of what it was about.  The rest would find out soon enough.

Langford’s cell phone rang.  He reached into his inside coat pocket to retrieve it.  It was a number he didn’t recognize.

“Langford here.”

“Admiral, this is Caesare.”

“Caesare?  Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat headed for the Bowditch?”

“Yes, sir.  I am.  But something urgent has just come to my attention that I need to speak to you about.”

Langford looked outside again at the ever slowing traffic.  “I appear to have plenty of time.”

President Carr looked up from his copy of Lawton’s write-up and back to Admiral Langford with raised eyebrows.  “Is this real?”

“We believe it to be authentic, Mr. President.”

“Jesus Christ!”  He put the paper down in front of him and looked at the high-resolution pictures again.  “How the hell did the Chinese find out about this?”

Vice President Bailey put down his own copy.  “And how did they convince Guyana to just roll over for it?”

Miller answered.  “We don’t know who or how they found it.  But it appears they convinced the government of Guyana the old fashioned way.”

“They bought them off,” Baily acknowledged.

Carr smirked.  “You say that as if we wouldn’t have done the same thing.”  He rubbed his forehead absently.  “How can we be sure about the implications this Commander Lawton is laying out here?  I mean, how many scientific discoveries do we hear about every day that end up meaning nothing?  Not everything pans out.”

“That’s true,” agreed Secretary of State Bartman, from across the table.  “If I had a nickel for every medical or technological advancement that promised to be a breakthrough, I’d be a rich man.”

Next to Miller, Langford shrugged.  “The fact is, sir, we don’t know.”

“How long have we been testing this thing, forty-eight hours?” Bartman asked, with a hint of sarcasm.  “Look, I’m not saying this isn’t what she claims, but how on earth can we be sure after just forty-eight hours?  Other advancements have turned out to be nonviable after months, even years.”

The Admiral sat motionless, listening.  Finally, he frowned and scratched his cheek.  “Well, the Chinese have had months to study it, maybe longer.  And they sent a warship to go get it.”

The others became silent.

Langford shrugged.  “We can sit here and debate how viable this is, and we can decide to wait until we’ve tested more.  But all the while, there’s a fully armed Chinese ship scooping up this plant by the truckload, and it’s doing it as quietly as possible.  Maybe we should consider the logistics of what it would take for us to do something like that, while trying to keep it secret at the same time.  That’s a lot of moving pieces, and the Chinese appear to have moved on it awfully fast.  If you ask me, I don’t think we should be spending our time discussing the odds of this being real.  I think we need to be considering the ramifications if it is.”  Langford looked at Carr.  “How wrong are we willing to be, Mr. President?”

“And what if we’re wrong, Admiral?” the Vice President asked.  “What do you recommend, a blockade?  Our relationship with China is already on delicate footing.  What if we rush in and manage to elicit a situation that escalates into something even bigger?  How would we feel starting up a military conflict with them, come to find out this big ‘secret’ discovery turns out to be a fascinating new toothpaste?!”

President Carr nodded his head solemnly.  “Ramifications can go both ways, gentlemen.  The Chinese and the Russians continue to strengthen their alliance.  Considering our problems with Russia, this certainly doesn’t help matters.  The last thing we need to do is to inflame the relationship even more.”

The room was silent again, allowing Secretary of State Bartman the opportunity to interject.  “Let’s assume for a moment that this discovery is as important as you say.  And we don’t try to stop them.  Why not send our own team in to retrieve specimens?  Hell, even if we don’t, we can steal whatever secrets the Chinese derive from this plant.  If they document anything, we can eventually get it.”

“We’re starting to add a lot of ‘ifs’ to our thinking,” Miller noted.

“That may be, but I think it’s less risky than inadvertently creating a geopolitical conflict.”

The President turned to National Security Advisor Griffith, sitting quietly in his seat.  “Stan?  Thoughts?”

Griffith was leaning forward with his chin perched on his palm.  He blinked and looked up.  “Espionage is never a sure thing.  And it often causes more long-term damage than one would expect.  Look at the NSA and their surveillance snooping.  We lost a lot of credibility after that, not to mention some important allies.  I do agree that risk is less about the odds of something happening and more about the ultimate ramifications.”  He picked up and examined his own set of pictures again.  “How much do we know about Commander Neely Lawton?”

“She graduated cum laude and one year early from Harvard before getting her Masters,” Langford replied.  “After joining the Navy, she was part of a team, who two years ago, discovered an algae capable of cleansing toxic metals from polluted water five times faster than any other known method.  An algae that several corporations are now working to commercialize.  She’s as sharp as anyone I’ve met in the field.”  He looked around the table before concluding, “And she thinks this plant the Chinese have found is a pretty damn big deal.”

Sam Johnston, the Commandant of Marines, leaned forward onto the table with hands interlocked.  “It seems to me the one thing we don’t want to do is to try second guessing how important this discovery may ultimately be.  We should be focused on getting someone in there to find out exactly what the Chinese team is doing.  There’s a lot of speculation on what’s actually happening at the top of that mountain.  I suggest observation be our first priority.”

“We can still get ships in the area if we need them, without making anyone nervous,” added the Chief of Naval Operations, sitting next to Johnston.

“If it’s that important,” Griffith added, turning toward the President, “we can put a non-military team on the ground and stake a claim without screwing around with that corvette.”

The President thought it over.  Everyone knew the Chinese had been stockpiling virtually every essential commodity for years: gold, silver, copper, iron ore, and a dozen more.  They were preparing for something.  Yet even with all the other commodities, they had never moved as quickly as they had in Guyana.  They knew something, something that no one else did.

“Mr. President, Commander Lawton believes this may just be the tip of the iceberg on what the Chinese have actually found.  If that’s true, to what lengths do you think they will go to keep it?”  After a pause, Langford added with a grave tone, “What lengths would any of us go to?”

46

The streets were virtually empty.  The pollution in Beijing was worse than normal and most people remained indoors.  The few who did venture outside covered their faces with white masks and walked briskly from building to building.

The growth of China over the last four decades had been tremendous, raising the country from a veritable third world status to the second largest superpower in the world.  It was a level of growth like nothing the modern world had seen.  Hundreds of new cities with gleaming skyscrapers and endless shopping malls now littered China’s eastern seaboard.  The country was now home to a faster growing number of millionaires and billionaires than any other country in the world, including the United States.  And they had just overtaken Russia’s ranking for the second largest military on the planet.

Yet the explosive growth of China’s modern industrial gold rush came at a price.  Production remained in overdrive as their factories worked to keep up with both a global and now domestic demand for goods.  It also meant a lack of standards and every incentive to cut corners.  Regulations were nowhere close to keeping up with production.  Not to mention they came without any semblance of safety, particularly with incentives for fraud and corruption oozing from every public office.  It was unsustainable.  Their red-hot economy was going to have to slow eventually.  When it did, the impact would be harsh.

Wei’s Mercedes crossed over the Landmark River on Xindong Road, the thick veil of smog leaving him unable to see past the edge of the structure’s steel railing.  The pollution was getting worse.  More and more days were deemed unfit for breathing and each of those meant a significant loss in productivity.  Change was no longer avoidable.  It was only a matter of time.

The general looked at his watch.  Of all his meetings, this was one he could not be late for.  In reality, it was less a meeting than it was a summons.

The seven people that waited for Wei were beyond authority.  They were beyond any real definition of accountability, yet everything that happened in China fell under their ultimate control.  They were the government elite, the Politburo Standing Committee of the Communist Party of China, and the seven men who determined the path of China’s future.  It was the same group who secretly appointed nearly all heads of state and the military.  And they were the same group who had appointed Wei.

Regardless of their ultimate disconnect from the average citizen, the Politburo Standing Committee steered the political, economic, and military courses of China’s future with a deft hand.  A hand that also had the ability to instantly clench into the most ruthless of fists.  While justice in other modern countries was bound by at least a facade of judicial fairness, the masters of China had no such requirements.  Punishment was occasionally handed down from them with a stunning lack of mercy, usually in the form of executions.  Swift and strategic, the executions of high-ranking public officials were performed just as often to make a point rather than to actually deliver ‘justice.’  In fact, out of a number of officials executed for their role in deeply rooted corruption, Wei suspected several were never involved at all.

It was what made the recognition by the group of seven as much of a curse as a blessing.  Power and wealth could be granted with the wave of a hand, yet it could be withdrawn even faster with the swing of a sword.

Wei’s mood grew even more somber as his driver turned onto the byway and the image of a giant complex emerged through the suffocating brown smog.  The Mercedes made its final turn into the half-circle entrance under an enormous glass overhang.  After the car stopped, Wei barely had time to unfasten his seatbelt before the door was promptly opened from the other side.

He was escorted to the eightieth floor where the elevator dinged and opened its silver doors.  Wei walked forward into the expansive room, which was the top floor.  Glass walls, on all sides, looked out over a heavily obscured cityscape.

They motioned him to a chair on the far end of the oval table.  He sat and looked up at the serious faces of each of the seven members.

On the other side of the table, Xinzhen began immediately.  So much for etiquette.

“So the Americans have arrived.”

“Yes,” Wei answered.

“Are you prepared?”

Wei nodded.  “Yes.  We will protect it at all costs.”

“Even if it leads to conflict?”

Wei tried to appear relaxed.  “We always knew that was a possibility.”

The man nodded slowly.  Another of the Committee members spoke up, the brashest of the group.

“And what about the extraction?”

“It is nearly complete,” Wei reassured.  “You will have it soon.”

The man’s eyes narrowed.  “I hope so.  Time runs short, General.”

“Careful steps must be taken, Mr. Secretary.”  Wei had explained it all to them many times before.  Each meeting was almost like the first, yet Wei revealed none of his irritation.

After all…he knew something that the Committee didn’t.

***

Lieutenant Chao stood on the deck of the corvette class ship, this time in direct sunlight.  Secrecy no longer mattered.  The Americans knew.  They had gotten a sample and by now, no doubt, had discovered the secret of the plant.  But ironically, they wouldn’t realize its full potential for at least another week.  Nevertheless, they knew enough now to understand what Chao and his men were up to.

The boat sat surreally silent, rocking gently with the help of the mild incoming ocean surge.  There were no more shipments, no more transfers in the dark, and no more running the crates back to the hangar for the next load of trucks.

In fact, General Wei was probably sitting in front of the Committee now, being questioned for the hundredth time.  They wanted to make sure their prize was safe.  It was their future.  And it would ensure survivability for China’s supreme ruling class and their political structure, regardless of the coming devastation their economic rot would bring.  At least that’s what they were expecting.

Chao looked up at the distant mountains of Guyana.  Who would have thought that crazy explorer Zang had been telling the truth?  And that it would turn out to be a discovery that would change the path of human history, a history of which Chao was an astute student.  He wondered how many explorers had dreamt of this find.  How many had spent their entire lives searching for one of the world’s greatest legends?  Only to have someone else stumble upon it by accident.  What fools.

He raised his binoculars and looked out across the ocean.  The American ship was still there.  They were no doubt running around desperately trying to figure out what to do.  A grin crawled across his tight lips.

Soon they would come in with guns blazing like the Americans always did.  But this time, their only discovery would be that they were too late, that their mighty empire missed out on the most epic of revelations.  He only wished he could be there to see it.

But he couldn’t.  What was going to happen that evening remained far more important.  It was their last trip back into the mountains.  Yet this time, the trucks were loaded with more than just crates.

And most of his men would never come back out.

Several miles across the water, Clay stood on a metal grating just outside the Bowditch’s bridge.  He remained still, with his binoculars up, studying the corvette ship.  For a moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of reflection from something.

Standing next to him, Captain Krogstad looked through his own pair.  He scanned the waterfront from side to side and muttered to himself.  “‘Don’t let them out of the dock,’ he says.  How the hell am I supposed to do that with an unarmed science vessel?”

Clay mused and turned to scan the rest of the southern shoreline.  He panned, looking out over the northwest horizon.  He froze and, after a brief pause, dropped the binoculars.  He couldn’t help but smile.  “Vessel sighted.”

Krogstad spun with his glasses still up.  The small white object was clearly visible against the dark blue water, even with the unaided eye.  The azure sky stretching overhead lacked even a wisp of cloud.

The object was the Prowler catamaran steaming ahead at twelve knots.

Krogstad noted the time on his watch.  “They’re even early.  Well done, son.”

It took almost an hour for the boat to reach them, eventually rounding the stern and coming under the same maintenance ladder Clay and Caesare had used.  Peering over the edge, Clay smiled at the sight of Caesare at the helm.  He was wearing a T-shirt and someone’s baseball cap to block the sun.

Lee and Chris were the first to climb the ladder.  With some difficulty, they reached the top and were immediately escorted off to sickbay by Krogstad’s crew.  Next came Kelly, followed by Alison.  Considering recent events, the women seemed no worse for the wear.  When Alison spotted Clay standing off to the side, she quickly covered the distance to him, smiling all the way.  She wasn’t sure what would be deemed appropriate on an official ship with an official crew and was pleasantly surprised when Clay put an arm around her.

“How are you?” he asked warmly.

Alison beamed.  “Good now, thanks to you and Steve.  How did you know where we were?”

“Borger found you.”

“Ah, the mysterious Mr. Borger I hear so much about.  Does that mean I finally get to meet him?”

Clay smiled.  “In the flesh.  Though you might want to keep your sunglasses on.  His shirts can be a little hard on the eyes.”  He let the smile fade from his face.  “How are Chris and Lee?”

“Pretty good.  Steve couldn’t find any signs of critical injuries, but their wounds will take some time to heal.”

“Well, they’re in good hands now.”  Clay looked at the ladder just as Caesare appeared.  He climbed over the edge effortlessly and nodded to the Captain before approaching Clay.

“Nice job, sailor,” said Clay, pausing when he noticed that Caesare was not smiling.

Instead, he looked at Clay with a serious face.  “I’m not staying long.”

“What?”

“We have a problem.”  Caesare gave a slight nod to Alison.  “It seems DeeAnn Draper and Juan Diaz have gone missing.  Along with Dulce.”

“For how long?”

Alison peered up at him.  “We haven’t heard from either one of them in a few days.”

“I called a friend at the CIA,” Caesare said.  “There’s been no activity on their cell phones from the tower they were connecting to outside of São Luis.  I also had him dig deeper into our billionaire, Mr. Alves.  It seems he’s not quite the Boy Scout philanthropist he seemed.  He’s involved with some bad elements in Brazil.”

Captain Krogstad walked up behind them.  “Trouble?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Clay answered, then turned back to Caesare.  “So, do you have a plan?”

‘Yeah, my plan is to find them,” Caesare stated flatly.  His face became even more serious.  “I talked to Langford and got clearance.  As long as you stay here working with Borger and Commander Lawton.”

Even though it wasn’t a surprise, Clay still didn’t like hearing it.  He wasn’t one for staying behind.  “Do you need anything?”

“Nope. I’ve got what I need on the boat.  I’ll need to hold onto your bag.  Langford diverted a transport plane on its way down.  It should be waiting at Georgetown’s airport by the time I get there.  Which means I should be in São Luis by sundown.”  Caesare turned to Krogstad.  “Captain, can I borrow one of your crew?  I can take the Prowler to shore, but I need someone to bring it back.”

“Of course.  Whenever you’re ready.”

Caesare opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by someone shouting from across the deck.  It was Borger.  He was waving frantically and running toward them.  When he reached them, he spit out the words and bent over as though someone had just given him the Heimlich maneuver.  “You guys gotta get in here!”  He pointed back the way he came and rested his other hand on his knee, nearly hyperventilating.

“What’s wrong?”

Borger couldn’t reply.  He was desperately trying to catch his breath.  After several more inhalations, he finally got it out.  “Hurry!  The lab!”

The other five immediately bolted for the stairs less than a hundred feet away.  Rapid pounding on the gray metal steps could be heard as they made their way up.

Clay reached the lab first.  He grabbed the door and pushed it open forcefully, stepping inside along with it.  Behind him, Caesare entered, followed by the two women, Krogstad, and finally Borger in a distant last.

Startled, Commander Lawton jerked her head away from the large monitor in front of her.  There was an instant before she spoke when her eyes flashed on Caesare, a gesture which only Alison and Kelly caught.

“We have a problem,” she stated as she stood up.  “A big one!”

“What?”

Lawton smiled politely at the women and turned back to the screen.  “Look at this.”

Instinctively, everyone stepped in closer behind her.

Lawton enlarged a window on the screen and it zoomed in, displaying the twisted shape of a simple life form.

“What’s that?” asked Clay.

“Bacteria.  A human intestinal bacteria to be exact.”  She turned back around, facing them.  “I wanted to try something.  Any of you guys familiar with ‘horizontal’ gene transfer, or HGT?”

Borger looked down the line and then meekly raised his hand in the affirmative.

Lawton rolled her eyes.  “I don’t mean you, Mr. Borger.”  Seeing five blank stares, she continued.  “Horizontal gene transfer refers to the passing of genes to other organisms, not including traditional reproduction.  It’s most commonly used to refer to gene transfers between two dissimilar organisms.  And ‘artificial’ HGT is essentially what we refer to today as genetic engineering.  For example, transferring a glowing gene to a fish so it glows in the dark.  That one makes a neat pet.”

“But even without artificial assistance, some genes in genetically modified foods, such as soy and wheat, have been documented to actually ‘jump’ to another organism such as bacteria.  One study observed it happening in human digestive bacteria, which is why I chose that one.”

They still appeared to be with her.  Lawton went on.

“I wanted to see if Clay’s plant had a similar ability, to ‘jump.’  Therefore, I extracted the chromosomal DNA I told you about and injected it directly into one of the bacterial cells.”  She motioned with her hand to the on-screen picture behind her.  “See Exhibit A.”

“And?”

“And it worked.”

“Impressive,” Clay said.

She shrugged.  “Not so much.  There are much more efficient ways to do it than my brute force technique.  But bacteria are a single cell organism, so it’s not horribly difficult to do.  Besides, I don’t know if ‘impressive’ is the word you’ll want to use when I tell you the next part.”  She turned and retrieved a small petri dish from the table behind her.  “This,” she said, presenting it in her palm, “is what it looked like two hours ago.”

They all peered into the clear dish which didn’t appear much different than water.

“Okay,” Lawton nodded briefly.  She turned and set the dish down, while picking up another.  “And this is what it looks like now.”

The others behind her let out a collective gasp.  The dish no longer resembled water.  Now it looked like a thick pink soup.

“What happened?” asked Krogstad.

“It grew, sir.  A lot.  These are all new bacteria, all from the one I transferred the plant’s genes into.”  She reached into the dish and gently lifted an edge of the pink material with a fingertip.  She let it drop back down into the dish for effect, complete with a squishing sound.

“All that in two hours?”

“Yep.  Of course, given the right growing medium, bacteria can grow quickly.  But not like this.”

Clay was still watching the dish.  “I take it this is a result of the telomere not allowing them to die?”

“Actually, no,” Lawton replied.  “It’s because of the other attribute, the rapid regeneration.  I don’t know what piece of DNA code is responsible for that, but it’s in there somewhere.”

“Okay. So, you’re saying we have an HGT transfer from the plant to a bacteria.”

“A human bacteria,” Lawton corrected.  “And now for the next part, and our problem.”  She folded her arms and turned back to the screen.  “Fortunately, human bacteria don’t transfer their genes into regular human cells.  At least they didn’t until a couple years ago.  That’s when a team of scientists at the University of Maryland School of Medicine published a report showing evidence that it does happen.  They demonstrated that their bacteria can, on occasion, transfer its genes into healthy human cells.”

“On occasion,” Clay repeated curiously.

“Yes, in a small percentage of cases.”

“I sense a surprise coming.”

Lawton nodded.  “You’re right.”  She reached down and picked up the same pink colored petri dish again.  “This is the surprise!”

“Oh, wow,” Borger mumbled.

Clay wasn’t following.  “Will?”

Borger looked at Lawton then back to Clay.  “It’s a numbers game, John.”

“A numbers game?”

“I think what Commander Lawton is saying is that given the normal speed at which bacteria replicates, their numbers still aren’t enough to matter against our trillions of other cells.”  Borger motioned at the pink petri dish still in her hand.  “But with a much faster replication rate, it could be a problem.”

“Exactly,” Lawton said.  “Over time, with a faster replication and the bacteria cells no longer dying a timely death, they could theoretically go on to grow indefinitely.  Which means, given enough time, even a DNA jump that only occasionally happens could still eventually infect every single cell in our bodies.  In fact, it wouldn’t even need to get to every cell.  It would only need to change a large enough number for the body to physiologically react to it.  Or to absorb it.”

Clay eyed her curiously.  “And how long would that take?”

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged.  “Without the cells dying and given the compounding effect of accelerated replication, probably less than a year.  But the point is that getting that plant’s DNA into human cells may be a lot easier to do than we thought.  Especially if you were to use a friendlier strain of bacteria, like Bacillus Coagulans.”

“Given enough time,” said Clay.

“Exactly.”

“Damn,” Caesare folded his arms.  “A guy can miss a lot in twenty-four hours.”

Lawton winked at him and shrugged.  “Just the biggest biological find in history.”

Clay looked at Krogstad.  “This is huge.”  He then remembered something and asked Lawton, “So this is the problem you were talking about?”

“Not entirely,” she said.

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that if we know what these ‘plants’ of theirs can really do, then the Chinese must know it too.”

Alison shook her head.  “I’m confused.  Are the Chinese the only ones who have this organism?”

“Yes.”

Krogstad looked grimly at Clay.  “And I have a feeling they’re not in a sharing mood.”

47

DeeAnn stroked Dulce’s trembling hand through the cage bars.  The small gorilla was beginning to whimper.  Dexter was still cornered in his own cage, shaking.  With fingers gripped around the thin metal bars, he was frantically looking back and forth between the helicopter’s windows out to the blue sky beyond.

Alves watched the primates with interest but little concern.  Behind him, Blanco was watching them all.

“I hope this is worth it,” DeeAnn said, in a snide tone.

It took a moment for Alves to respond, as if deciding whether he felt like it.  “I hope so too.”

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

Alves grinned wryly.  “And yet you did.”

“Because I was stupid.”

“Agreed.”  Alves tilted his head.  “By the way, I know about your romantic relationship with Luke Greenwood.”  His tone was mocking.  “A woman, still in love, coming to save her man.  Very romantic.”

“Go to hell.”

He was still grinning but took a deep breath.  “Hopefully not for a very long time.”

“So, I guess your plan is to just fly up into the jungle to find out what makes Dexter so old.  Just like that.”

He stared at her.  “Ms. Draper, do you know what the ultimate irony is?”

She didn’t respond.

“It’s being rich.”

She displayed a puzzled look but still didn’t reply.

“The greatest desire, as it turns out, is also the greatest irony of all: to be rich.  To have more money than you will ever need.  The irony is that shortly after becoming rich, you realize that what you really need, what everyone needs, is time.  You see, a rich person doesn’t want to die, but plenty of poor people do.  Sure, there are exceptions, but there is much more suffering on the bottom than on the top.  After all, when you have the means to be king, who would ever want it to end?  The answer is no one.”

“So you want to live forever.”

Alves laughed.  “Oh, please!  Don’t be trite.  It doesn’t become you.  You are still a woman of considerable intelligence, mostly.”  He glanced out one of the side windows.  “Even pragmatists can dream, no?  We just dream, realistically.  No, Ms. Draper.  I don’t harbor any silly fantasies about living forever, but I most certainly do pursue those things that may extend my health.  And health is time.  Would you believe me if I told you I was eighty-three years old?”

The surprise on her face was obvious.

“I didn’t think so.  You see, there are many things we can do to extend our health.  Some easy, some hard.  And some more than a little strange.  I’ve done them all, and still do many of them today.  Do you know why?”

He leaned forward when she didn’t answer.  “Because one must be ready.  Ready for even the briefest of opportunities.  A real opportunity.”

“You mean like Dexter.”

“Yes.  Like Dexter.”  He looked down at the frightened monkey.  “Just as in business, you must be prepared for any opportunity that presents itself, no matter how short or unorthodox.  Because death can come at any moment, from a thousand different directions.  A sudden heart attack, a fall,” he said, spreading his hands, “even a helicopter accident.  Life is unpredictable, but opportunity favors the prepared.”

“And the rich.”

Alves smiled.  “Being prepared with means, no doubt improves one’s odds.”

“Maybe you should just think about living a life that’s worth living?”

“Ah, the ethical choice,” he mused.  “The golden rule, live as you want to be remembered, leave the world a better place.”  He laughed again.  “All sage advice, from the belly of mediocrity.  No doubt you have many friends living by such a noble ethos, yes?”

She glared at him.  “Luke was one.”

The humor dropped from Alves’ face.  “Yes, I suppose he was.  Then again, maybe he wasn’t.”

DeeAnn’s eyes narrowed, questioningly.

“Did it ever occur to you, Ms. Draper, that your precious Luke was driven by motivations that were more…human?”

“No.”

Alves sighed.  “I marvel at how one-dimensional your mind is.  Luke Greenwood spent his life rescuing poor, abused animals from nasty people.  People like me, perhaps.  He was a hero.  A man of the earth!”  Alves shook his head.  “Tell me.  What do you think he enjoyed more, rescuing those poor animals or hurting the evil abusers?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Ah, there’s the single dimension again.  What is the difference, indeed? Revenge, regardless of whom you deliver it upon, is still a human trait, is it not?”

DeeAnn answered reluctantly.  “I suppose.”

“Of course it is.  So then I ask you; if your dear Luke were getting more pleasure from hurting those who are evil, how virtuous would his fundamental motivation truly be?”

DeeAnn quietly brushed a dangling strand of hair back over her ear.

“I have news for you, Ms. Draper.  Human beings are motivated by their own interests and nothing more.  Of course, we can all paint a different agenda or insist we act under a more noble value system, but in the end, all of our actions are self-motivated.  No matter how small or how slight.”  He gestured to Dulce.  “And it’s the same with your animals.”

“So then you’re saying, why fight it?’”

Alves smiled broadly.  “Why indeed.”

“And your self-interest now is to find out how Dexter has lived so long and to find a way to copy it.”

“We can only hope.”

“So, all of this, all of this deception and deceit, was just so you could eventually go live like a monkey?”  She scoffed.  “Knock yourself out.  I’m only doing this for Juan.”

This time Alves didn’t answer.  He merely shrugged.  It didn’t matter.  It didn’t matter to him why she was doing it or how she had to rationalize it to herself.  The simple truth was that when it was over, neither Juan Diaz or DeeAnn Draper would ever be seen again.

When Caesare reached the Georgetown airport, the Grumman C-2 Greyhound transport plane was waiting for him on the tarmac.  First built in 1966, the silver-colored, twin-engine C-2s were used by the Navy for various cargo missions and had flown millions of miles.  And of the thousands of missions flown, the aircraft’s primary and most respected missions were delivering pieces of paper to aircraft carriers.  Papers in the form of letters.  Yet now with the digital age, the old C-2s flew far less often.

Caesare sprinted across the hot tarmac toward the plane.  His large bag bobbed up and down as he ran, strapped tightly across his back.  The various gear inside, particularly the rifle and ammunition, weighed him down considerably.

He reached the C-2 and, with a short leap, jumped through the lower positioned door.  A crew member nodded then looked outside before pulling the heavy metal door shut.  He gave the okay to the pilots.  As the engines roared to life, he yelled over the noise to Caesare.

“Make yourself comfortable, sir!”

In his black fatigues, Caesare nodded and looked around.  With no place to sit, he simply removed his bag and fell backward onto the dozens of oversized, stuffed mailbags.

48

Less than ten miles away, aboard the corvette, Lieutenant Wang Chao watched over the shoulder of Hoa Ling, his lead biologist.  Like Chao, Ling had been handpicked by General Wei, as were the other four members of Ling’s team.  They were the best in China, and probably in all of Asia.  And if any of them were bothered by their extreme working conditions below deck, none showed it.

What the Americans didn’t know was that their ship wasn’t much of a corvette class at all, at least not anymore.  Below deck, it had been completely gutted.  Virtually all armaments and weaponry systems had been replaced with a science lab and even larger storage area.  The only parts that had been kept were those that ensured the ship would float.  Even the living quarters were reduced to the point of sheer necessity.  With a minimal crew and science team, the gutting was the only thing that made it possible to store five weeks of extraction efforts in the cool, dark recesses of the boat’s bow.  Chao’s ship was a corvette in appearance only.

Standing before both of them was a giant machine called a nanoscale magnetic torque transducer.  Or as Ling’s team called it, the ‘nano-mag.’  It was required for the painstaking process in molecular biology referred to as transduction.  In 1951, researchers in Wisconsin demonstrated the process of using a common virus to elicit an enzyme reaction, which then allowed for the DNA in one cell to be replicated or ‘cloned’ to another.  And while the process had been honed over the years for better efficiency, the fundamental steps were surprisingly similar to those first steps documented over fifty years before.

Ling removed a small vial of clear liquid from the machine and screwed on the top.  He then placed it into a thin, rectangular box next to him, which held two more vials.  The inside lining of the box was ice cold, constructed specifically to house the vials at a near zero temperature during transit.  Ling closed the lid and secured the clasp before presenting the box to Chao.

“They’re ready.”

Chao took the box and examined it, impressed.  The exterior did not feel any noticeably cooler to the touch.  What he held in his hands was the first complete extraction of the plant’s genome and biological material.  The vials were filled with thousands of bacteria cells, all painstakingly injected with the plant’s chromosomal DNA through transduction.  The cells were held dormant by the ice cold medium inside.  Only above temperatures of thirty degrees Fahrenheit would they thaw and become active.

Chao went to a nearby station and wrapped a thick metal band around the box.  Next to it, he wrapped another band of thick paper, with an intricate wax seal.  If the box were opened, the recipient would know it.  Of course, it was overkill in Chao’s opinion.  After all, there would only be four people who touched the box, including Ling and Chao.

Chao immediately left the lab and carried the package up the metal ladder.  He emerged from the ship and onto the deck.  He then crossed the gangway where a soldier was waiting at attention.  Another lieutenant, and one of impeccable reputation.

The man saluted to Chao, who returned it before handing the box to him.  There were no misunderstandings.  Either the man delivered the box personally, or he and his entire family had better already be dead.

Chao watched the man walk briskly to the truck and climb in.  Would he make it?  Chao wondered.  Then another thought occurred to him.  Did he even care?

Chao was also selected personally by General Wei but for a very different reason.  Chao was ruthless.  And ruthless in ways that literally redefined the word.

He’d served under the General before, and his reputation became well-known after one of their incursions.  After a particularly nasty battle, Chao’s team had won the fight.  But what he had done to enemy survivors left his entire platoon in disbelief.

But he was here now.  Chao had been tapped again by Wei to get a job done, and to get it done without any emotional interference.  What it really meant was to do it without any emotional baggage.

Oddly, Chao had always found the whole thing puzzling, if not entertaining.  Being able to completely distance yourself from human emotion was an asset, not a liability.  After all, how many commanding officers were willing to kill their own men?

Chao watched the small truck disappear to the east and turned to watch three of his Typhoons pull up.  He climbed a small weeded slope to reach a dirt plateau where the trucks had stopped.  He walked around to the back of the first truck while the driver eagerly got out and ran back to meet him.  The driver inserted a key and opened the heavy door.

Inside, he could see them.  Their dull green tanks were still barely visible within the truck’s darkened interior.  Chao stepped inside and examined one.  The harness was old and the straps frayed.  Not surprising, given they hadn’t been used since the Vietnam War.  Most countries had discontinued their use or even banned them outright.  Of course, they were always a contingency, but Chao never expected to have to use them, and certainly not this soon.  Yet, in the end, a plan that remained flexible was a plan that won.

Chao browsed the dozens of additional tanks stacked neatly behind each backpack.  Each was filled with liquid propane.  They were called ‘mechanical incendiary devices’ but they were known the world over by a more distinct name: flamethrowers.

The best and most ironic part was the original manufacturer: the United States military.

***

Twenty minutes later, Chao tossed a large bag onto the seat then climbed into the cab of the first truck.  He gave the order to move out.

The tires on each of the Ural Typhoons dug into the ground and surged forward.  Chao looked out his window and into the truck’s side view mirror, watching the ship slowly shrink behind them.

It would be his last trip up.

49

São Luis was the capital of the Brazilian state of Maranhão, and the only one of Brazil’s state capitals originally founded by France.  With two major sea ports and almost a million residents, São Luis was a burgeoning South American metropolis.

Jose Vierra had lived in São Luis his entire life and paid no attention to the overhead noise from the nearby airport.  Frankly, in his stupor, he was simply too drunk to notice.  Instead he was cursing at his girlfriend, telling her for the last time to get onto his damn motorcycle!

His girlfriend stood at the top of the steps with her arms folded defiantly.  Even as buzzed as she was, she wasn’t getting on with him.

Finally, Jose screamed at her and grew more incensed when she proceeded to flip him off.  She then turned around and stormed back inside the bar.

Seething, he fumbled to get the kickstand down and turn the motorcycle off again.  He was just about to dismount when he noticed a figure appear out of the darkness, carrying a large bag.

Steve Caesare smiled at him, having observed the exchange.  “Honeymoon must not be going well, eh?”

Vierra made a puzzled face from under his thick, sweaty brow.

Caesare shrugged.  The man didn’t speak English.  It didn’t matter.  He needed transportation, and this fellow looked like just the type of generous person he was hoping for.

***

DeeAnn could see the outlines of the small shacks just within range of the campfire light.  The roaring flames leapt high off the tall pile of wood, illuminating everything around them, including the trucks and even the faint glow of Alves’ white helicopter in the distance.

Several yards behind DeeAnn was a large area with rows of wood and wire mesh cages.  They were old and rusted, some of the framing barely holding together.  It was a disgusting sight, reminding her of that terrible compound in Mexico.  She refused to look and instead kept her eyes on Dulce and Dexter, both caged next to her.

“Can we please let them out?  Just for a few minutes?” she pleaded.

Alves seemed to be growing even more indifferent.  On the other side of the fire, he sat in a wooden chair and lifted a large bottle to his lips, drinking what resembled a green sludge.  He lowered the bottle and looked at her, wiping his lips with a cloth napkin.  “No.”

“What is wrong with you?!” she cried.  “You’re torturing them!”  Dulce was visibly trembling now, and Dexter was still gripping his cage tightly.  She could smell Dexter’s fear as he repeatedly urinated.

Alves made no attempt to answer.

“Listen,” DeeAnn continued, “you don’t understand what you’re doing!  You still need them, don’t you?  How are you going to learn where he’s from if they’re both too frightened to speak?!”

Alves took a breath, and finally turned to her.  “And how would I find out if we took them out and they escaped?”  He paused, waiting rhetorically.  “I’ll take my chances.”  He calmly raised his bottle and took another gulp of sludge.

The man had no idea.  Dulce hadn’t spoken since they’d landed and she was now sweating profusely.  It was so much that DeeAnn could see the sheen on her fur in the firelight.

Even worse was where they were.  It was the poacher camp where Dexter was first captured while trying to free the other monkeys.  Just the mental trauma alone from being here was probably enough to keep Dexter from ever talking again.

DeeAnn was now very frightened.  If Alves had no concern for them now, then he would have even less after he found what he was looking for. The sickening feeling in DeeAnn’s chest was growing stronger.  She knew that she was never coming back.  She felt even sicker when she thought about Juan and how she’d brought him into this mess.

Across the fire, Alves stared off into the darkness, his white hair glistening in the light.  His body slumped forward, tired.  Even though the others couldn’t tell, his old lungs could feel the change in elevation and were having to work harder to compensate.  In the last several years, his efforts had become more of an obsession than a quest.  Each year, he was growing more desperate with the knowledge that his time was nearing an end.  How much longer could he keep going?

Alves peered into the black expanse all around them, no longer hearing the sounds of the jungle or those around him.  Why was he so desperate to live when all of the people who really mattered to him were already gone?  His brothers and sisters, his wife, the friends he played with as a boy.  Everyone who was a part of any pleasant memory he had was gone.  He remembered playing games with his brothers and sisters, constantly laughing and running.  Those were some of the purest memories of life that he could recall, and yet his loved ones had all gone, one after another.

But still, he remained.  He remained and persevered, finding ways to hold onto every last minute he could grasp.  Why?   Why did he cling so desperately?  He knew the answer before he even asked it.  It was because everyone close to him, those who had left, did so with the same reluctance.  The same look on their face that said no matter how old, no matter how much pain they had, they didn’t want to leave the game.  Alves felt it too.  He didn’t want to leave.  Not because he was afraid of what waited for him on the other side.  But because when you were out, you were out forever, never to return.  And forever was a very long time.

Behind Alves sat Blanco, along with his two men.  The two were smoking cigarettes and conversing about how well their famed soccer team had been doing.   Yet Blanco paid no attention.

Out of earshot, DeeAnn wondered what the men were talking about.  But even more than that, she wondered what Blanco was thinking behind his cold dark eyes.

Juan Diaz sat in complete darkness, unable to see anything.  His eyes had long since adjusted to the windowless room he was in.  There was no light, not even the slightest glimmer, to offer him.

From where he was, it sounded like the entire preserve had been abandoned.  No sound from the outside reached him at all.  The only thing he ever heard was an occasional noise from just a few rooms over, from the man who had put him here.

Diaz had no idea what time it was.  However, he did remember two voices clearly talking about Alves’ assistant Carolina.  According to the few words he was able to pick out, she had fled not long after Alves and the others had left.  But he didn’t know whether that was four hours ago, or twelve.   He didn’t know how many times he had fallen asleep or for how long.  The only things that had woken him up were the pain in his shoulders from his hands being bound behind him and the rumbling in his stomach.

He had called out several times for food, loud enough that Blanco’s man must have heard him, but there was no reply.  Letting him use the bathroom before throwing him in the closet was the last outside contact he’d had.  But why?  They were supposed to be holding him as insurance, to force DeeAnn into helping them.   If they were going to keep him alive, they had to feed him.  But they hadn’t.  Over the course of many hours, the reality slowly dawned on Juan as he lay in the blackness with his face against the cold, smelly concrete.  They weren’t feeding him for a reason.

The terrible feeling of despair was nearly overwhelming.  Juan rolled his forehead helplessly against the hard floor, feeling the small pebbles press painfully into his skin.  A tear escaped and rolled sideways off his cheek.  He wasn’t going to make it out of here.  He wasn’t going to see anyone ever again.

He thought of his parents.  They were so proud of him being the first to go to college, a real college.  And then he saw his younger sister.  She looked up to Juan, and she was everything to him.  He pictured how her small face would look when she was told that Juan had died.  Then the tears let loose, and he wept.

50

Juan awoke with a start.  He still couldn’t see anything, but a noise had woken him.  He was frantically trying to recall what it might have been, when he heard it again.  Something in the other room.  Something loud.  An argument, maybe.  The next sound was even louder, but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

No!  They were getting ready.  They were coming for him.  They were going to do to him what they did to Luke Greenwood.

Juan desperately pulled at his bindings again.  He strained, trying to break what was holding him.  It felt like tape, but it didn’t budge.  He tried again, feeling the veins in his temples bulge.  Nothing.

He kicked his feet and tried to pull one up away from the other, but the tape held.  Jesus!  What kind of tape was it?!

Wait!  He paused when he heard something else.  Was that the other door opening?  He continued kicking, now in a panic, trying desperately to break the tape.  It wouldn’t give.  He scooted himself backwards on the concrete floor, searching for anything behind him.  His fingers touched something.  It was metal, a tool maybe.

But it was too late.  Juan froze when the door to his room was violently kicked open.  The light was turned on, blinding him and causing him to clamp his eyes shut.  When he felt hands grab him, he shrieked and bucked wildly on the floor.  He used the moment to roll onto his back, kicking at the bastards as hard as he could.  “No!  No!” he screamed.  “Get away from me!”

With a victorious thud, Juan’s right heel made contact with something.  He tried again kicking in the same area but couldn’t find the target again.  It had moved away.  He couldn’t find anything.  He opened his eyes into the bright glare and spotted the silhouette.  He lunged with both legs together, using everything he had, and struck the shadow dead center, sending it reeling back against the wall.  Juan blinked hard, looking around for anyone else.  What he heard next caused his heart to sink.  It was the sound of laughter.

They were actually chuckling.  The shadow stepped forward, this time grabbing Juan’s legs when he kicked hard toward his captor again.  When the man spoke, his words were clear and unmistakable.

“Well, you’re definitely alive.”

The words were in English.  Juan felt his legs drop to the floor with a thud.  His vision finished adjusting until finally a familiar face materialized before him.

The man standing over him smiled and dabbed his own lip with one of his fingers.  He pulled it back to reveal a small streak of blood.  It was Steve Caesare.

“Mr. Caesare!” Juan croaked.  His eyes wide with shock, Juan’s brow furrowed and the sudden elation triggered an emotional release.  Juan stared up at a grinning Caesare as his survival instinct gave way and he began sobbing.

Caesare knelt down next to him and put a thick paw on his shoulder.  “It’s okay, Juan.  I got ya, buddy.”

Juan pursed his lips, barely able to see Caesare through his blurry eyes.  He tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Don’t try to talk.”  Caesare gently patted him.  “Just relax a minute.”  In a smooth motion, Caesare drew a giant knife from somewhere behind him.  As he reached down to cut the tape away, Juan could have sworn the blade had blood on it.

It took a few minutes for him to recover.  All the while, Caesare stayed next to him, talking in a calm voice.  Finally, Juan blinked the remaining tears out of his eyes and took a deep breath.  He eased himself up onto his rear and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“You okay?”

He sniffed and nodded.  “I…I’m sorry.”

Caesare smiled.  “Don’t ever be sorry.  Not about this.  I’ve had my share of moments just being thrilled to be alive.”

Juan forced a smile of his own.  “I guess you really are a Navy SEAL, huh?”

Caesare laughed and stood up.  “Unfortunately for them.”  He lowered his hand and waited for Juan to take it.  When he did, Caesare pulled him up onto his feet.  “So where are DeeAnn and Dulce?”

“Alves took them.  In a helicopter.”

“How long ago?”

“I don’t know.  What time is it now?”

Caesare peered at his watch.  “A little after midnight.”

“It was early this morning.  Six or so, I guess.  At least I think it was this morning.”

“Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know,” Juan shook his head.  “We came here to help them find a monkey.  To try to find out what happened to DeeAnn’s friend.  But it was Alves.  He killed her friend and lied to get us to come.  And it was all to find that monkey.”

“Why would he go to all that trouble over a monkey?”

“I don’t know exactly.  There’s something about him that Alves is after.  He’s trying to find out where Dexter came from, but I don’t know where that is, or which direction they went.”

Caesare nodded, thinking.  “How many were here guarding you?”

“I only saw two.”

“Well, at least that’s good news.  Let’s get out of here.”  He motioned toward the door and stepped out into the hallway, checking both directions.  Juan noticed the gun in Caesare’s hand.  He hadn’t even seen him pull it out.

They headed up the hallway and stopped at the door.  Juan gave a start when he realized it was the room from which they were monitoring him.  And also because Blanco’s man, who was watching him, was now lying face down on the floor.

He looked back at Caesare, who was already heading further up the hall.  “You did that?”

There was no answer.

When they reached the door to the outside, Caesare opened it slowly and quietly, listening.  Hearing nothing, he opened it wider and slipped out, holding it for Juan.  He laid a finger over his lips and made a motion to be quiet.

They passed beyond the glow of the building’s overhead lights and into a section of dense trees.  After a hundred feet or so, Caesare abruptly stopped, causing Juan to almost run into him.

On the ground was another of Blanco’s men.  This one was lying on his back, clutching his side where his clothing was covered by a large dark stain.  The man was gasping for breath and held a knife in his right hand.

“I see we found a knife.”  Without the slightest hint of sympathy, Caesare stepped forward, placing his heavy boot on the man’s upper arm and pinning his right side.

“Speak English?’

Blanco’s henchman stared at him defiantly but reluctantly nodded.

“Then listen carefully.  You tell me what I want to know and I’ll leave you here, with a chance to live.”  Caesare raised the gun and pointed it at the man’s forehead.  “If not, I won’t.  Understand?”

The man nodded and relaxed his hand, letting his knife tumble to the moist dirt next to his head.

“Where did they go?”

Blanco’s man coughed.  “The mountains.”

“Where in the mountains?”

“Northwest.”

Caesare’s jaw flexed.  “How far?”

“South to Sipaliwini.  Is a poacher’s camp.”

He motioned toward Juan.  “How long were you keeping him here?”

The reply was broken.  “Until Blanco call.”

“And then what?”

The mercenary hesitated and looked nervously at Juan.

Caesare pressed hard on his arm.  “I said, then what?!”

“To kill him,” he blurted out.

Caesare’s eyes grew dark.  “How?  How was he going to call you?”

The man grimaced.  “The phone.  In the office.”

Caesare peered around through the trees.  “Anyone else here?”  There were two Humvees parked near the building on the south side.

The mercenary shook his head.  His breathing was growing steadily worse.

“Keys.”

The man tried to move the arm that Caesare was standing on but couldn’t.  Instead, he twisted his wrist and tried to point downward.

Caesare reached down and felt through the man’s pockets.  When he found what he was looking for, he reached inside and pulled out a set of several keys.  He took his boot off of him and stepped back.  He then turned to Juan.  “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Juan said.  He stepped forward and kicked the man as hard as he could in the groin, causing him to double over and howl in pain.  Then Juan cursed in Spanish and spit on him.

Caesare nodded.  “Well said.”

They left him lying in the darkness and quietly reentered the building.  Together, they moved slowly down the hallway in case Caesare had missed someone.  Juan’s former capturer was still lying face down in the room, lifeless.  Caesare found the small phone and dropped it into his own pocket.

“Juan, if we can find the server room, can you shut everything down?”

“Hell, yes, I can!”

It took two and a half hours to reach Belem and find the hotel.  When the two walked into the well-lit lobby, Mariana was startled to see Caesare again.  She recognized him immediately.  But this time, his face did not appear nearly as jovial.

“You’re back, senhor.”  She glanced curiously at Juan, who was standing weakly next to Caesare.  “Would you like a room?”

“No.”  Caesare shook his head and approached the old, run-down counter.  “Actually, I’d like to see your brother again.”

Mariana’s lip curled with a hint of humor.  “Another late night swim?”

Caesare turned toward Juan, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows.  “Don’t ask.”

***

Lucas arrived within minutes, as the men stood waiting in the lobby.  He stuck his head in the doorway and motioned for Caesare and Juan to come outside.  They followed him out and Caesare smiled when he saw the same old Chevy Malibu.  He and Clay had returned it to the hotel after borrowing it the week before, just prior to hightailing it out of Belem.

Lucas and his friend, who was standing on the other side of the car, looked Juan up and down.  “Is he okay?”

“Someone tried to rough him up.”

Lucas nodded.  He was unfamiliar with the phrase, but he got the idea.  “No swimming tonight?” Lucas asked with a grin.

What is it with the swimming jokes?  “No,” Caesare replied, dryly.  “I need a helicopter.”

Lucas’ face became serious.  With a concerned look, he peered at his friend over the roof of the car.

“Not the whole thing,” Caesare clarified.  “Just a ride.”

“Senhor…that is expensive.”

“It’s urgent.”

“Do you have money?” Lucas asked.

“No, I don’t,” Caesare replied.  He reached into his pants pocket and withdrew a key ring.  “But how would you like a new Humvee?”

Lucas remained silent for a few long seconds.  “I may know someone.”

“I thought you might.”

***

It took them less than thirty minutes to reach the old airfield.  Completely dark, it looked like a skeleton of its former self.  Unfortunately, even broad daylight wouldn’t have helped its appearance much.

Lucas drove his new Humvee up an open embankment to an old building.  All four doors opened and they climbed out, hearing the sound immediately.

Soon after, they saw two bright flashing lights appear over the treetops, followed by the faint outline of a large helicopter.  It approached and began to descend, finally bouncing down on the open grass in front of them.

Caesare was not the slightest bit surprised to see that it was a Brazilian Army chopper.  Given the poor economy, someone was obviously moonlighting.

The side door on the gray helicopter slid open and a man dressed in the same color fatigues waved them forward.

Caesare hefted the heavy bag up on to his shoulder and turned to Juan.  “You’re staying here.”  He yelled over the noise of the rotors.

“Huh?!”

Caesare pulled Lucas in close so he could be heard.  “Get him to the airport!”  He pointed at Juan.  “And put him on the first plane to Puerto Rico!”

Lucas nodded.  “I will.  Right away.”

Caesare gave Lucas a stern gaze.  “If anything happens to him, I’m coming after you!”

“Yes, yes.  No problem.  You can trust me.”

He nodded at Lucas before turning to clap Juan on the shoulder.  “Everything will be fine.  Just get yourself home, alright?”

Juan nodded and hugged Caesare’s larger frame.  “You’re going to find them, right?”

Caesare nodded with a cold stare.  “Damn right, I am!”

51

At the first ray of light, the entire camp instantly awoke to Dexter screaming at the top of his tiny lungs.  He rocked the cage frantically, throwing his small furry body against the inner metal bars over and over, nearly tipping it over.

DeeAnn was the first on her feet.  For a moment, it almost looked as if the cage were being shaken angrily with Dexter simply trapped inside.  But it was only Dexter, and he was completely unglued.  Next to him, Dulce watched with wide eyes from within her own cage.

“Dulce, what’s wrong with him?” she asked.  There was no response.  She began to repeat her words when she caught herself.  She wasn’t wearing the vest.  “Damn it!”  DeeAnn turned and ran back to her bag where the vest was carefully laid out on a large rock.

“What is it?” Alves cried.  He was wobbling, trying to quickly get to his feet.

“I don’t know!” DeeAnn pulled the vest down onto her shoulders and clasped the side buckles together.  She flipped the power button and looked to see if the blue light was on.

And then she noticed it.  Following her frozen gaze, they all did.  High above them, on the distant horizon beyond the mountain’s peak, they could see it billowing up into the sky like a dark blanket.

Smoke.

52

They were out of time.  The sun was up and the smoke would now be visible from every direction.  He had to get out.

Chao surveyed the damage.  Everything was either burning or smoldering, for almost twenty acres in every direction.  He and his men had used the rest of their extra gasoline supply to douse all the giant plants they hadn’t excavated and then torched them with the flamethrowers.  Most of the fire was still raging and quickly spreading out to the other trees and plants.  Before long, it would cover the entire area, all the way to the cliff’s face.

What they had found would never be shared.  Their discovery would give China abilities far surpassing any other nation or people.  They would not just be the next super power; they would be a super power like the world had never seen.

Of course, the Americans would figure it out soon.  And they would no doubt arrive here too.  But they would find nothing left to harvest.  Only decimation.  What the fire didn’t destroy, the 2,4,5-T that laced the gasoline would finish.  It would soak into the root systems and kill every last strand.  Something they had already tested.

Chao watched one of his men work with his flamethrower, still spreading the bright orange streams of death onto everything he touched.  With any luck, the fire would continue far enough that the Americans wouldn’t be able to determine where it even began.

He turned to the truck.  It had more than enough fuel to make it back down, especially now that the cargo hold was empty.  None of his men noticed when Chao walked over and opened the driver’s side door, withdrawing the .45 caliber pistol from his bag.  He pulled out a short black cylinder and screwed it onto the tip of the barrel.  No one had ever gotten a close look at his gun and its threaded barrel.  He double-checked his magazine and pulled the slide back, chambering the first round.

The flames were high enough that few of his men could see each other.  And the smoke created a thick brown curtain all around them.  The time had come.

This was where Chao’s gift really shined.  Most executioners would at least suffer from a nervous trembling in their hands, but Chao felt nothing at all as he approached the nearest of his men.  A sergeant who had served him well.  A man of intense loyalty, both to Chao and to the Motherland.  Young, idealistic, and the father of two young children.

He never saw Chao, who quietly walked up behind him, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger.

Seventeen more.

53

DeeAnn gripped the cages tight with her fingers, trying to keep them steady as the truck threw her from side to side.  The road was little more than a worn path through the grass, with mounds and dips large enough even for her to see from the back.

“Hurry!” screamed Alves.  He was sitting behind the driver, clutching the back of the seat.  In the front passenger seat, Blanco sat gripping the overhead handle, trying to withstand the wild motion of the vehicle.

The driver had the pedal mashed to the floor, hitting every obstacle in the road at almost full speed.  He was wrestling the steering wheel at the same time, trying to keep them from sliding down the embankment on Blanco’s side.

DeeAnn tried unsuccessfully to keep the cages from thrashing against the interior sides of the truck.  The shaking was too hard.  She, along with Dulce and Dexter, were all thrown back and forth together.  Dexter’s shrieking had been replaced with a deep, guttural moaning, even as he crashed back and forth against the sides of his cage.  Dulce was eerily silent.  She was sopping wet and her eyes filled with fear.

DeeAnn couldn’t help but think that if the fire site really was their destination, then Alves may not need any of them at all anymore.

Suddenly the driver slammed on his brakes, causing everyone to tumble forward.  The road had disappeared.  He peered intently through the dirty windshield, searching.

“There, there!” yelled Blanco, pointing to the right.  It was overgrown with wild grass but remained barely visible.

The driver drove forward slowly, cranking the wheel hard to the right.  He inched the front tires up and over a group of small boulders before getting the truck back onto the path.  From there, he slowed and climbed carefully.

As they passed a clearing, DeeAnn caught a glimpse up the mountain from the side window.

Dear god, she thought.  We’re not even close!

***

On the other side of the same mountain, Chao was descending as rapidly as he could.  With an empty truck and much better road, he was well past the halfway mark before DeeAnn’s group even laid eyes on the summit.

He turned through a tight corner then pressed hard on the gas pedal, opening it up before having to brake hard again for the next turn.

Eventually, Chao broke out from beneath the canopy of trees and could see the glimmering ocean far in the distance.  He quickly followed the river and glanced the dull gray ship waiting patiently at the dock.

Chao couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.  He’d made it and without any serious problems.  A few of his men had turned around in time to see the gun, but it was too late.  It was over.  Everything had gone his way, and now they were shipping out.  And in three short months, he would be wealthy beyond his wildest imagination.

The last hour was the easiest.  The road was smoother and the hills at the base of the mountain provided a gentler decline.  Chao gripped the wheel and pushed the accelerator down further.

Finally, he was close enough to see the crewmembers from his ship moving on the dock, waiting to cast off the gigantic lines holding the corvette in place.

Chao instinctively looked down and noticed the condition of his light gray jacket.  He cursed and slowed the Typhoon.  With one hand on the wheel, he snaked an arm out of the jacket, then switched and pulled the other arm free.  He grabbed the garment and held it up before throwing it out the window.  He returned both hands to the steering wheel and sped up again.

Better to arrive out of dress than in a jacket with blood spatter all over it.

54

A morning fog had settled further down the canyon, far beneath the camp.  The extra moisture helped blanket some of the sound, but it also gave the large Brazilian helicopter an ominous image as it rose up, out of the mist.

As they breached the top into a clear blue morning sky, both helicopter pilots looked up through their windshield with wonder.  There appeared to be an enormous fire at the top of the mountain, which was very rare given how green the area was.

They cleared the next plateau and spotted the small poachers’ camp.  It appeared to be little more than a few shanty structures with old vehicles and no one visible on the ground.  The one thing out of place was an enormous, multi-million dollar, white AgustaWestland helicopter resting idly in a nearby clearing. The copilot beckoned Caesare forward to the cockpit and pointed to the craft.

Caesare nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.  He made a “down” signal with his fingers and rushed back to the fuselage to prepare the drop line.

The pilots came in low, circling the camp to look for an ideal spot.  Behind them, the left side door slid open and Caesare stepped forward, wearing the thick nylon harness with the rope snaked through the rappel ring.  Over one shoulder hung his M4 assault rifle.

He clung to the large steel handles on either side of the door as the chopper came around the south side and began to slow.

The aircraft finally stopped circling and fell another ten feet into a hover.  The powerful force from the overhead blades flattened a giant circle of tall grass beneath them.  Seeing no one below, Caesare dropped his black bag out and gave Lucas and his friend a friendly salute.

But just as he turned back toward the door, it happened.  Alves’ two pilots burst from one of the structures carrying rifles.  In a flash, they aimed at the chopper and opened fire.

Caesare jumped as bullets ricocheted off the thick armor around the door and the left side landing gear on which he was standing.  He immediately fell back inside the protection of the fuselage when the pilots instinctively pitched hard away from the shooters.

“Get down!  Get down!”  Caesare yelled over the beating rotors.  He lunged and grabbed the handle on the nearest seat while the airman next to him hit the floor.  Lucas and his friend followed.

The chopper leaned hard and sped toward the edge of the plateau, where it disappeared.

In the cockpit, the pilots were yelling backward over their shoulders in Portuguese. Caesare didn’t know what the words meant, but he understood the general meaning: get the hell out!  He quickly pulled himself back up into a sitting position by the door and searched himself for injuries.  Nothing.  Just a rip in the side of his pants.  He was lucky.

The pilots continued downhill, dropping below a nearby tree line before leveling out again.  The airman slapped Caesare on the back just before the Navy SEAL gripped the line and pushed out into the open.

The rope unraveled quickly, causing Caesare to drop faster than normal.  Too fast.  He hit the ground hard with his boots at an angle, pitching out and slamming sideways into the dried dirt.

Caesare groaned and immediately dropped his gun.  Wasting no time, he rolled onto his back and began unclasping the harness.  Within seconds, he was out.  He threw it away from him and waved up at the helicopter.  The line instantly rose back into the air as the helicopter pitched once more, heading further downhill and disappearing again into the fog.

He was on his own.  Caesare sat up, probed his rib cage, and winced when he pressed on his bottom rib.  It was cracked.  Lucky again.

He twisted around, looking through the trees and back up the hill.  He got down low and waited for a few minutes, but didn’t see anyone coming down.  He quietly re-slung the M4.  If those two were any good, they would be expecting him to round the base of the hill and come up from behind.  And if they were ready for that, then they might be ready for him to come straight up instead. Or better yet, from one of their flanks, where the terrain was easier.

As it turned out, neither lackey was very good.  When Caesare came up and over the top of the hill behind them, neither of the men were watching.  Instead, they were both turned and looking down the front of the slope where they had last seen the helicopter.  One was trying to dial someone on a phone while the other glanced nervously back and forth between the slope and his partner.  The first man began cursing at the large phone in his hand.  They were the pilots all right.

Caesare came up behind them smoothly, with the carbine pressed tight against his cheek.  By the time they heard him, he was right on top of them.  The pair froze at the sound of Caesare’s boots.

“How many?!” Caesare growled, in a low voice.

Both men peered at him without moving.

Caesare circled wide and stopped next to an old International pickup truck.  Its fenders and doors had more rust than paint.  He kept the barrel on the pilots and glanced around the camp.  “How many others?”

Still no response.  Christ.  “Speak ENGLISH?”

The two men, both dressed in light colored khakis, looked at each other.  When they turned back, one of them raised a hand and held his index finger and thumb just an inch apart.

“A little.  Great,” Caesare mumbled sarcastically.  “How many?” he asked again, sweeping his arm across the camp.

The pilot Caesare was talking to was shorter than the other, with hair barely an inch long.  “No,” he said.  He pointed back and forth between him and his partner as if to say just us.

Caesare motioned for them to get onto the ground, and they complied without hesitation.  Both lay face down while Caesare checked inside the three rundown structures.  They were so poorly constructed that Caesare wondered if someone had run out of nails.  They probably would have been better off with tents.

He examined the second vehicle, an old style U.S. Jeep which clearly had seen better days.  It looked to have been out of commission for years.

With his ears listening for anything behind him, he approached the pilots again as they lay still on the ground.  He stood to the side where they could clearly see the carbine pointed at their heads.  “Where?!” he yelled.

The shorter pilot looked up with a questioning look.

“I said where?!  Where did they go?!”

The pilot pivoted his head.  He then tilted it and pointed up at the mountain.

Caesare followed his finger toward the smoke.  He studied the situation while his gun remained on the pilots.

“Alves?” he asked and pointed the same way.

The man on the ground nodded.

“How long ago?”  After more silence, Caesare yelled again and pointed at his watch.  “HOW LONG?!”

The pilot displayed four fingers.

Caesare stepped forward and picked up the phone that was dropped when the pilots both lowered themselves to the ground.

Four hours.

One by one, he tied the men to the old Jeep with one at each end, using a nylon line from his bag.  When he finally stood up, neither man said a word.  Almost half Caesare’s age, they simply glared at him from their positions in the dirt.

“You know I should have killed you both.”

Neither replied.

“Not even a thank you.”  Caesare shook his head.  “I weep for the future.”

He scanned the camp once more before running through the tall grass over to the AgustaWestland.  He approached, pausing for a moment outside to admire the aircraft, and then reached up high and pulled the door open.

If he thought it was nice from the outside, he was stunned at the inside.  “Good God,” he thought to himself and examined the ornate interior.  The walls were decorated in a combination of soft white and lightly colored maple wood.  The white leather seats gave it a noticeably elegant touch.  But his eyes quickly fell to the open area on the left side where the carpet was matted down, leaving square-shaped impressions.  Cages.

Caesare immediately turned and entered the cockpit.  The instrument panel was as modern as he had ever seen.  He dropped his bag on the copilot seat and slid into the other.  After a short pause, he was startled when the leather seat began to slide forward for him.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”  He held his hands up until the seat finished its positioning, then dropped one hand onto the stick and felt it out.  After scanning the rest of the panel, he reached out and powered up the electrical system.  Lights all around the cockpit instantly illuminated and two large screens in front of him flickered to life.  He leaned forward and inspected the fuel gauges.

“Just enough fuel to make it back,” he said aloud.  A devilish grin began to spread across Caesare’s face.

General Wei sat quietly in his darkened office.  It was very early in the morning and he was the only one in the building.  Still in his uniform, he sat waiting with hands resting on the expansive black, polished desktop.

In hindsight, he supposed it had been inevitable.  There were a thousand variables that could have easily yielded a different outcome, but deep down he knew it would eventually come to this.  He had seen his share of battle, often skirmishes obscured by the veil of political posturing, but warfare was the same no matter where it was and no matter which uniform you wore.

Wei was one of a few soldiers who had ever made it so high up the military ladder without any strong political or blood relationships.  In truth, he was an anomaly more than anything else.  Born and raised by humble means, he’d entered the Chinese Army when he was only sixteen and the country was in the throes of the greatest political shift in modern Chinese history.  It was an overthrow of the old regime by a new one that, in the end, would be different in words only.

His skills as a leader were recognized early in his career by one of the new government’s ideologists and guided him down a path of advancement that few would ever experience.  But ironically, it was his skill of remaining politically neutral that helped Wei eventually become one of China’s most powerful military leaders.

But he had no illusions as to where his fate now lay.  Wei was one of China’s only honest generals, perhaps the only one, which is why “the seven” selected him for this job.  But when it was over, he would be too.

Wei jumped when his phone suddenly vibrated against the hard wood of the desk, illuminating the area around him in an eerie glow.  Wei picked it up and looked at the screen.  It was the message he had been waiting for: a message from Chao.

Wei read the text and put the phone down again.  He sat for several minutes in the darkness.  Deep inside, he had somehow hoped it wouldn’t come to this.  That there was still some way out.  There wasn’t.

There was a fleeting attempt at consolation, remembering an old proverb about the hardest decisions having to be made by the strongest men.  It didn’t help.

He picked up his desk phone and dialed a number.  The other end was picked up immediately.  Wei gave the order and gently returned the receiver to his cradle.

As he usually did, Wei thought of his late wife: the most beautiful of souls whom he had ever known.  What would she think of her husband now?

55

Alison dunked her tea bag several times before laying it to the side and taking a tentative taste from her mug.  Satisfied, she removed the pouch and set it gently on the edge of her saucer.  She raised the cup with both hands and took a longer sip.

“So what’s on your agenda today?” she asked.

Sitting across from her, Clay lowered his glass of orange juice.  “I’ve got to find Will and go over the new satellite data.  See what else we can find out.”

“In the lab?”

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ll see you there,” Alison winked.  “I’ve got an appointment with Commander Lawton.”

Clay raised his eyebrows curiously.  “Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”  She returned her mug and grabbed a fork, picking through her bowl of fruit.  “She’s interested in the work we’re doing with IMIS.  I told her I would give her a full briefing on it.  She also has some interesting things to share on the marine biology front with some of the work they’ve been doing.”

“That would be interesting.  I’ll do my best to eavesdrop.”

Alison laughed.  After a moment, her face became serious.  “So, listen.  This thing that you’re working on with Commander Lawton and Mr. Borger, it’s obviously classified.  But we’re not going to get thrown off the ship again, are we?”

Clay smiled.  She was referring to what happened last year on Captain Emerson’s Pathfinder, which required all of the civilian personnel to be unloaded in a hurry.  “Well, hopefully not quite that fevered.  But I believe we will need to get you ashore as soon as Chris and Lee are well enough.”

“How long is that?”

“A few days probably.”

Alison frowned.  She began to speak but hesitated.  “I wish…that we didn’t have to leave.  I kind of like being here with you.”

Clay smiled again.  “Kind of?”

She dropped her chin sarcastically.  “You know what I mean.”

He chuckled and then looked deeply into her eyes.  “Well, I like you being here a lot.”

Alison smiled nervously and reached up, fingering part of her long dark braid.  She remembered how much John liked her hair braided.  “This is the most time we’ve spent together.  Of course, it’s far from an ideal date.”

Clay was about to speak when he noticed the ship’s First Officer enter the small mess hall and look around.  Upon spotting Clay, he swiftly crossed the room.

“Commander Clay, you’re needed on the bridge.”  He glanced apologetically at Alison.  “Immediately, sir.”

Clay squeezed Alison’s hand.  “Sorry.  I’ll see you in the lab later.”  As he stood up, he heard a loud and unmistakable sound.  It was the ship’s giant anchor chain.

Once outside, both men ran toward the middle of the ship and up the nearest ladder.  Another level up, they raced to the end of the catwalk where they yanked open the door and entered the bridge.

Clay approached Krogstad, who was standing at the helm and staring out the giant window through his binoculars.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said to Clay, dryly.

Clay followed his glare toward the shore.  “What’s happening?  Are we raising anchor?”

“Affirmative.”  He handed the binoculars to Clay.  “It appears our Chinese friends are preparing to leave.”

Clay could see the tip of the Chinese corvette slowly appear beyond the far end of the Georgetown seawall.  At the same time, he could hear the tempo of the pounding anchor chain speed up outside.

“Sir,” the ship’s Communication Officer looked at Krogstad, “I have Admiral Langford on the line.”

“Good.”  Krogstad nodded at his pilot as he picked up the receiver.  “Bring us around.”  He returned his gaze to the corvette as it continued sliding out into view.  “Admiral Langford.”

Langford had just returned to his office and was leaning over his desk phone with palms on either side.  “Captain Krogstad, go ahead.”

“Sir, the corvette is leaving port.”

“Are you sure?”

Krogstad could now see the faint image of the ship gradually emerging.  “Pretty sure.”

“Damn it!”  Langford turned his head in irritation.  The White House was still ignoring his request to send reinforcements at the risk of inciting something with the Chinese.  And now it was too late!  He had only been authorized to send non-combat vessels, which may as well have been nothing at all.  “How fast?” he asked.

“Slow.  Maybe eight to ten knots.”

God damn it!  “Okay, then block them in.”

Krogstad raised his eyebrows.  “Block them in?”

“You heard me, Captain.  I said block them in!”

“Admiral, we’re not close enough.”

Langford gritted his teeth, frustrated.  Christ, was he the only one who understood what was at stake?!  “Listen to me, Krogstad.  I don’t care how you do it, but you are NOT to allow that ship to leave!”

“Admiral, may I remind you that this is a science vessel?  We have no weapons.”

“I don’t care if you’re in a rowboat, Captain!” Langford bellowed.  “Do whatever you have to do!  Ram them if you have to!”

Langford hung up and immediately selected another line.  When it was picked up, his voice had reached an angry pitch.  “Get me the White House!”

Standing on the bridge, Krogstad peered silently at Clay and his First Officer, who were both still next to him.  With a simple “aye,” he heard the line disconnect and returned the receiver to its cradle.  He blinked, thinking, and finally looked at his pilot.  “Full speed.”

Krogstad turned to his first officer.  “Get everyone on this boat to the stern of the ship, immediately.”

The First Officer and Clay looked at each other.  “Sir?”

***

Two decks below, Kelly caught up just as Alison had left the mess hall and was headed for the science lab.  Kelly had just come from sick bay.  It was determined that Chris had sustained a concussion, so the doctor wanted to keep them both resting for another twenty-four hours.    Kelly left, promising to inquire about a cabin for them to use.

She walked next to Alison, watching her.  “So, I take it you’re not in a big hurry to leave.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re kidding, right?  I can see it all over your face, Alison.”

“Fine…I admit, it would be nice to spend a little more time with John.”

“I don’t blame you.  He’s so dreamy,” she teased.  “So, have you talked to him?  About the…exclusivity?”

Alison eyed her as she stepped aside to let a female officer pass.  “Someone is sure full of questions.”  She continued walking but suddenly noticed she was alone.  She turned around to find Kelly standing still, looking at her with folded arms.  Alison rolled her eyes.  “Okay, no.  I haven’t.  It’s not exactly the best time and place.”

“Ali, there’s no time like the present.”

Alison really wished she would stop saying that.

“Besides,” Kelly joined her again, “for all you know, he may just be about to ask you the same thing.”

They continued down the catwalk in silence, which was interrupted when they reached the door of the science lab.  Alison yanked her hand back when Borger suddenly burst out through its door.

His eyes grew wide at seeing Alison.  He searched past them with a look of urgency and instinctively grabbed her arm.  “Alison, do you know where Clay is?!”

“Um, yeah.  He just went up to the bridge.”

“Thanks.”  Borger pushed his large frame past them and ran as fast as he could to the stairs, following the same path Clay had taken.  However, unlike Clay, Borger was well out of breath by the time he stepped into the wheelhouse, just as Captain Krogstad’s first officer was coming out.

“Clay!” he blurted.  “We got a problem!”

Clay raised the binoculars again.  “We can see that, Will.”

“What?”

Krogstad gave Borger a hard stare.  “Son, you need to get off my bridge.”

Borger wasn’t listening.  “Oh geez,” he said, looking out the window with Clay.  “Is it leaving?!”

“Mr. Borger!” Krogstad raised his voice.

Clay suddenly turned to Borger.  “Wait a minute, what problem were you talking about?”

He looked nervously between Clay and Krogstad.  “The mountain is on fire.”

“What mountain?”

“THE mountain.  The Chinese camp.  The source of the plants!  The whole area is on fire!”

“Since when?”

“Since this morning.  And it’s big!”

Clay and Krogstad looked at each other then spun back to the window.  The corvette was still moving.  And the Bowditch was accelerating quickly towards it.

“My God,” Clay said, “they destroyed what they couldn’t take!”

“That’s not the worst part,” Borger said.  He lowered his voice so no one else on the bridge could hear him.

“What’s the worst part?”

“The Forel is gone.  The Russian sub…it’s gone!”

“What do you mean gone?”

“Gone, as in not there anymore.  The dock outside of Belem…it’s empty.”

Krogstad looked at Borger with a trace of worry.  “When?”

“According to the satellite feed, it left last night.”

“Do you have a bearing?”

Borger took a deep breath.  “I can’t be sure.  It left in the middle of the night, when the ARGUS couldn’t see it.  But I think my servers picked up a glimmer of it this morning.  I’m not positive though.”

“And where did it look like it was headed?” asked Clay slowly.

Borger was almost afraid to say it.  “Towards us.”

“Jesus Christ!” Krogstad cursed under his breath.  The Bowditch was now surging through the calm water at sixteen knots.  The distant Chinese ship was growing larger.

“SIR!” called the sonar operator in front of them.  He whipped around with his young eyes suddenly as big as saucers.  “Sonar is picking up something in the water!  I think it’s a torpedo!”

“WHAT?!”

Everyone on the bridge turned and stared at the operator, who looked back at his screen.  “Five thousand yards, sir, and closing!  It’s definitely a fish, Captain!”

“The Forel!” whispered Borger.

“That’s not possible,” said Clay.  “The Forel was never combat capable!”

“Well, someone sure as hell forgot to tell them!” Krogstad barked.  His gaze was trained on his sonar operator.  “Speed?!”

“Eighty knots!  Impact in approximately seven minutes!”

It was the worst possible thing Krogstad could face and he knew it.  The Bowditch was not a combat boat, which meant they had no decoys.  They had virtually nothing in the way of countermeasures.

Krogstad turned to his communications officer.  “Try to jam it!”  To the pilot, his next message could not have been clearer.  “Now move this bucket of bolts!”

Their only chance lay in the ship’s massive diesel engines; more specifically, how much they could extend the amount of time before impact.  They couldn’t outrun it, but every second they could add back to that clock was a second they could use.  They might be able to jam the acoustical contact with the torpedo, but if it was “wire guided,” Krogstad knew it wouldn’t help.

Clay stared out the front window with a look of urgency.  “Captain, the Oceanhawk!”

Krogstad looked below to the helicopter and the maintenance crew working on it.  “Find the pilots!” he barked at Clay and then bolted through the outside door.  From the catwalk, Krogstad leaned over the railing and yelled to the helicopter crew at the top of his lungs.  “GET THAT CHOPPER IN THE AIR, RIGHT NOW!”

***

Richard Hines had served as Chief Engineer aboard the Bowditch for over nine years.  Short, with a powerful chest and arms, he was no-nonsense.  And he ran his crew with the same dogged efficiency as the oldest veterans.

Hines was standing below on the Quarterdeck when the phone blared behind him. A level below Hines, on the engine platform, the four enormous diesel engines were howling.  They were now running at one hundred and five percent, a pace that could not be maintained for long.  But what Hines heard when he pressed the receiver to his ear nearly straightened every strand of his short, dark curly hair.

Immediately, and without a word, he slammed the phone back down and grabbed the microphone for the engine room’s loudspeakers.  “TORPEDO IN THE WATER!”

***

The startled crew of the Oceanhawk helicopter looked up at the bridge to see the Captain screaming at them.  But it wasn’t until he repeated the command that they jumped into action.

If it weren’t for Clay, Krogstad would have overlooked the Oceanhawk until it was too late.  It was a version of the Sikorsky S-70 family, and a multi-mission helicopter.  Each variant was designated a special and unique military function.  The UH-60 Blackhawk was designed for land based warfare.  The “Rescue Hawk” was a naval search and rescue chopper.  But the Oceanhawk was a SeaHawk variant, and SeaHawks were anti-submarine aircraft!

The problem was the new design.  With a folding tail section, it allowed the helicopters to be stored in a much tighter space, but it also meant it took longer to ready the aircraft for flight.

They had less than seven minutes.  How much less Krogstad didn’t know, especially with what he was about to do.

Even cutting out most of the pre-flight checklist, readying the tail section and firing up the twin engines would likely take more than seven minutes.  But they had to try.

Clay had better find those pilots.

***

Clay was flying down the ladder to the main deck when the piercing siren sounded overhead.  Loud enough to be heard throughout the entire ship, everyone instantly froze in their tracks when they heard it.  The siren stopped almost as quickly as it started and was replaced by Krogstad’s voice.

“All hands, move immediately to the stern of the ship!  I repeat, move to the stern of the ship!”  The next three words instantly struck fear into the hearts of the ship’s officers and crew.  “BRACE FOR IMPACT!”

The crew flew into action, ducking in and out of every room, pulling along their fellow sailors and anyone else they could find.

Clay pushed past the dozens of people who began filling the narrow catwalks, rushing toward the back of the ship.  He spotted a senior officer and stopped him.  “Where’s the flight crew?!”

In the science lab, Commander Lawton was urging everyone out quickly through the doors.  She pushed her hands against both Alison and Kelly’s backs, following them out just behind Borger and two of her researchers.  The catwalk outside was already filled with people, but Lawton kept pushing through the bottleneck.

***

Below deck, the ship’s engineering team was the only group who remained where they were.  Chief Hines had one hand holding the phone to his ear, talking to the Control Room.  With the other, he grasped the microphone tightly, shouting orders loud enough to be heard even over his crew’s double-layered ear protection.

This was no “buttercup” drill.  This was the real thing.  The giant SHT pumps were primed and ready, manned by two men on each side.  Everyone else held their positions, with their infrared scopes dangling upon their chests.

***

“Four minutes, Captain!”

Krogstad’s communications officer kept shaking his head. “We can’t jam it, sir!  It must be wire guided.”

Damn it!  He knew the chances of jamming were low, given the age of the technology.  It left Krogstad with only one option.  He gazed through the bridge’s window again.  He could clearly see the corvette now, much larger and beginning to turn out of Georgetown’s port.  It was turning toward them.  God damn it!  Of all the ships to be on!

He didn’t have a choice now.  The corvette was no longer a priority.  The Bowditch and everyone aboard were all that mattered.  And the Bowditch was no match for either a corvette or sub.

He had to give the order now, or there wouldn’t be enough time.  It meant they were going to lose most of the time left on their clock.  But there was nothing else he could do.

“Full reverse men!  Come about to port…HARD!”

***

Chief Hines got the message and yelled it out immediately.  “ALL STATIONS, STAND FAST!  FULL REVERSE!  COME ABOUT LEFT TO PORT!”

It only took thirty seconds for the bus-sized engines to fully reverse.  But it would take longer for a ship that size to come about.  It began with the thunderous shuddering that vibrated through the entire hull, as the thick steel was put through tremendous strain.  But begin to turn, it did.

The mighty engines began pulling the ship backward through the water towards the torpedo, which was still charging straight at their stern at almost eighty knots.

From the bridge, Captain Krogstad watched the horizon begin to spin in an agonizing crawl.  The full city of Georgetown came into view.  Second by second, he could gradually see the cliffs at the south end of town.

“Two minutes!”

Krogstad brought the microphone up to his mouth.  “All hands, to the stern!  NOW!”

He could hear the echo of his own voice through the outside speaker system.  What he couldn’t see, however, were the rotor blades of the Oceanhawk below, gathering speed.  Nor did he see the two helicopter pilots sprinting across the deck toward the chopper.

Behind them, Clay turned and ran for the stern, his boots pounding the metal grating hard with every step.  When he reached the back, he found the rear of the ship littered with crew and passengers.  Everyone frantically searched for a secure place to squirm into or something solid to wrap their arms around.

He spotted Alison near the side and ran to her.  Behind her stood Kelly, Chris, and Lee.  All huddled together and held on tightly to a thick railing.   Borger was nearby, holding onto the base of a mechanical crane.  His eyes held a fearful look, but one that knew what was coming.

Clay wrapped his arms protectively around Alison, and she pressed herself into his chest.  “Hold on,” he hollered to everyone.  “This is going to hurt!”

The ship continued its agonizing turn, with the bow finally beginning to swing into the path of the torpedo.  The best Krogstad could do was to keep everyone near the stern, where lifeboats would be easier to deploy, and to allow the front of the ship to take the full force of the impact.

At twenty seconds, Krogstad’s voice came over the speakers one last time.

“BRACE…”

“FOR…”

“IMPACT!”

56

The explosion was immense.  The Bowditch’s bow had not quite swung all the way around, resulting in a detonation along the front port side.

The force was so great that it pushed the front of the ship up almost five feet before the ascent stopped.  The hull came crashing back down onto the surface, sending a wall of water out in both directions.  And the concussion hit the Bowditch like a hammer, causing nearly everyone to lose their grip and fall forward against the hard metal deck.  Arms flailed and hands searched desperately for a new anchor.

But it was the Oceanhawk that Krogstad watched from the wheelhouse; at least in the seconds before his own body hit the floor.  Unfortunately, the rotors never reached their full speed to create enough lift.

Instead, the helicopter, along with its pilots and crew, was thrown into the air.  They then smashed violently back down onto the steel deck.  The entire aircraft pitched and rolled over, causing the whirling blades to strike the deck and break into long pieces of flying shrapnel.  In an instant, orange flames appeared below the fuselage.  An explosion completely engulfed the area in a black fireball.  As the fireball curled inward under itself and rose into the air, the warped shape of the helicopter began to roll backward.  In near slow motion, it continued rolling off, and over, the end of what was left of the bow.  The remaining pieces of rotor were still turning, resembling a set of fumbling fingers reaching for help, as both the craft and its pilots disappeared over the edge and tumbled into the sea.

What no one could see yet was the port side bow, ripped open as though the Bowditch had been gutted.  An enormous gaping hole, within a ring of twisted, tortured metal, provided a cavernous entry for the water to rush in.  And rush in, it did.  The hole extended down through the bottom of the Bowditch’s hull, which caused the water to surge in from the underneath as well as the side.

With the loss of much of its underside support, the bow slumped hard, pitching the entire ship at a forward angle.

***

Chief Hines was screaming below deck.  The overhead system had been knocked out, leaving only the direct radio to radio within their masks to communicate.  And even that was barely loud enough to hear over the incoming flood of water.

Their forward port pump was gone, and the one against the starboard bow was damaged beyond repair.  It left them with only the two aft pumps.  And that wasn’t enough.

The forward section of the quarterdeck was also gone, crumpled below onto the engine platform as if it were tinfoil.  But the fire was Hines’ biggest problem.

Using his infrared scope, he was unable to locate anyone forward of him.  Seeing through smoke was one thing, but the sheer heat radiating from the flames rendered the scope useless. Hines had no option but to search through the smoke and flame with his naked eyes.

He could hear the fire suppression system trying to suck the oxygen out as quickly as possible. Someone grabbed him from behind and Hines whirled around to see Daniel Harden, one of his second engineers.

“Pumps one and two are out!”

Hines nodded.  He already knew that.  The rush of water was simply too much.  It was now just a matter of time.

“The hole’s too big!  Get everyone out!” yelled Hines.  “I’m going to search forward!”

Harden nodded and disappeared into a shroud of smoke.

Hines called out over the radio.  “Adams!  Vierra!  Velasquez!  Who’s there?!”  He listened, hearing only Harden shouting to the remaining crew behind him.  “Forward crew,” Hines yelled again.  “Who’s there?!”

After a long silence, he heard something.  It sounded like a cough.  A moment later, a weak voice called back.  “It’s Velasquez.  I’m down.”

***

On the bridge, Krogstad and the other men climbed back into their seats and tried to assess the damage.

“Is there another fish in the water?!”

His sonar operator shook his head.  “No, sir.”

Thank god.  “Get me a damage report!”

His communication's officer turned with the receiver still against his ear.  “Forward pumps are out, sir.  Fire forward of the quarterdeck.  One engine is gone and two more offline. Two men missing.”  He paused then turned to the Captain with a grave expression.  “The breach is too big, sir.  The pumps can’t handle it.”

“How fast?”

“Too fast.  Hines says the breach is even bigger than he thought.  He estimates ten minutes before the lower decks are flooded.”

Krogstad felt the plane of the ship begin to pitch further forward.  He raised the back of his hand and absently wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead.  “All right, head for Georgetown.”

“Sir, even with only one engine, we will increase the flow of the water below deck by reversing course.

Krogstad rolled his eyes.  “Then keep going backwards.”

“Aye, aye.”

Georgetown wasn’t that far away, but with one engine and the ship filling rapidly, the boat was also getting heavier.  And getting heavier fast.  The more water they took on, the less the engine would be able to move them.  And the more the engine moved them, the faster the water would fill.

“Can we make it six miles?”

The officer spoke into the mouthpiece and waited.  He shook his head.  “Hines says not a chance.”

Dammit.  Most ships took time to sink, sometimes even hours, but some took only minutes.  And his was going to be one of them.

Krogstad stood thinking, desperately searching his brain for a way out.  There wasn’t one.  His face took on a look of painful resignation.  “Tell the Chief to get out.”

***

Below deck, Hines was searching for Velasquez.   The fire was almost out, thanks to the CO2, but the water was rising rapidly.

He grabbed what was left of the railing from the quarterdeck and leaned over, trying to see forward through the eerie red hue of the emergency lights.

He saw something.

The object was floating on top of the water among the debris but wasn’t moving.  The water’s powerful surge caused the dark mass to swirl in a wide circle, bumping against the starboard hull and slowly circling back toward Hines.

It was just out of reach.  Hines gripped the railing tighter, leaned out, and stretched as far as he could.  The object bobbed closer, almost within range.  It was Velasquez.  And thankfully, he was on his back, but it was unclear whether he was still breathing.  Hines reached out further, straining the length of his arms.  Velasquez was closer now.  Closer.  Closer.

The surge suddenly shifted and Velasquez began to move away.  Hines pawed at the water trying to draw him in.  The further Velasquez moved, the more forcefully Hines splashed at the water in front of him.  For a split second, it seemed as though Hines was winning, but a wave of dread spread across his face when he realized he was wrong.  The abrupt change wasn’t because Velasquez was coming closer again; it was because the remaining deck that Hines was standing on was moving.  In that moment, the deck bent outward just before the steel grating broke and Hines plunged into the black water.

***

“I lost contact with Hines, sir!”

“Are we still moving?”

“Yes, sir!  But we’re getting heavy and slowing.  I don’t know how much further we’ll get.”

Just minutes after the explosion, Krogstad reached the sickening realization that he was out of options.  The world seemed to slow for a moment as Krogstad considered his next and last command.  It was a command that no captain ever wanted to give.  He headed for the door and yelled to his men.

“Kill the engine and sound the horn!  Then get out!’

***

Below, on the rear of the main deck, Clay helped pull people to their feet and looked them over for serious injuries.  The explosion had flattened everyone, but none was too bad.  Some broken bones and a little blood but most could at least stand on their own.  The medical staff was moving from person to person, examining them.

Krogstad had done it.  He had managed to absorb as much of the torpedo’s explosion as possible with minimal loss of life.

Clay abruptly felt his balance change as the ship began to roll to port.  He grasped a nearby vertical support and wrapped an arm around Alison, while the others stumbled and bumped into each other.  The ship was beginning to list.

Then he heard it.  They all heard it.  In fact, everyone within a twenty-mile radius heard it: the ship’s deafening horn.  The powerful sound resonated outward so deeply that it caused everyone’s chest bones to vibrate.  And it was so overwhelming that not a single sound could be heard over it.

The four long blasts were a signal that no one could miss, nor its message.

ABANDON SHIP.

57

An emergency situation aboard a ship filled with a trained military crew was far different than one filled with civilian tourists.  The first instinct of the tourists was usually fear, followed by screaming.  On a Navy boat, the first instinct was remembering the drill.

In less than fifteen seconds, the nearby crew had reached the tubular storage containers on each side of the stern.  The seals were immediately broken and lids lifted up to reveal the inflatable life rafts packed inside.  From the center of the stern deck, the Chief Mate was barking commands, watching each side remove and prepare to lower the rafts.  The drill required the rafts be out in two minutes.  The Bowditch crew would do it in a minute and a half.

Clay motioned to Commander Lawton and together they ushered Alison and her team to the front of the line.  After the rafts were lowered over the side, the civilians were corralled toward the ladder and instructed to descend over the outside of the ship.  Alison went last, but when she cleared the edge, she stopped and looked at Clay curiously.  He hadn’t moved.

“John?”

Clay moved to the ladder and lowered his voice.  “Get in the raft, Alison.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Her face grew anxious, and she stared at him for what seemed like a long moment.  But the others climbing onto the ladder forced Alison’s progress.

Clay smiled.  “Don’t worry.”

Alison was nearly shoved down the ladder by the others scrambling past and Clay disappeared from view.  It was only when she was out of sight that he turned and ran.  He had to get to the science lab.

***

Clay had barely reached the ladder in the center of the first deck when he saw Captain Krogstad descending from above.  The rest of his crew from the bridge followed closely behind him.  Krogstad spotted Clay and promptly stepped aside when reaching the bottom, allowing the rest of his men to pass.

“Get those life rafts in the water!” Krogstad called after them.  He looked at Clay.  “Clay, come with me.”

“Where to?”

“We’ve got men below deck.”

Clay nodded in acknowledgement, immediately running after Krogstad.  The plant would have to wait.

Together the two rushed down a nearby ladder to the second deck.  The entire length of the walk was solid metal.  The oversized doors they passed along the starboard side housed various maintenance equipment and tools.  The largest was the ship’s condenser, which created fresh water from vapor, and could still be heard running when Krogstad and Clay passed it.  Much of the power was still on.

The next ladder led down to the quarterdeck and was already submerged in water.  They slid down and splashed up to their waists.

The dark surging water was ominous.  Debris from the destruction floated everywhere they looked.  Much of it were chunks of plastic and other materials, but some were larger pieces of metal, twirling on end, with only the tip exposed above the water.  The sheer power of the surge kept the objects eerily suspended far above the bottom.

“HINES!” called Krogstad.  “HINES, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Clay turned around and repeated the call back toward the stern.  After a brief pause for listening, they both called out again, louder.

There was no sign of anyone.  The only sound was the merciless seawater surging around them and rising quickly.

They continued calling, eyes straining through the dim light.  Both men could feel the limits of the thin oxygen, supplied only by the openings from the decks above.  They called again, searching more frantically as the cold water reached their chests.

Hines was gone.

The rising water and its increasing weight on the port side caused the ship to suddenly list again.  Both men instantly steadied themselves with the ladder, but the listing did not stop.  The ship continued to roll, passing thirty-five, then forty degrees.

Clay and Krogstad scrambled awkwardly back up the ladder to the second deck, trying to make their way up the catwalk.  As they reached the next ladder, the momentum of the roll reached the critical forty-five degrees, and all hell broke loose.

Outside, water no longer constricted by the tall sides of the ship’s hull rushed in over the edge of the top deck, down into the ports and stairwells.  The incredible deluge swept with it everything from the deck that was not nailed down and, in some cases, even those that were.

58

Chao watched calmly from the deck of his ship as it passed within a kilometer of the Bowditch.  He’d never seen a ship destroyed up close before.  It was fascinating.

His dark eyes watched the devastation unfold as the Bowditch suddenly began to roll, tipping its port side down below the water line and allowing a massive curtain of water to cascade over the top.  The destruction was fantastic.

He turned his eyes to the half dozen life rafts floating away from the stern.  Several figures could be seen still trying to get off the ship in time but were instead swept away by the deluge.  The rest were desperately trying to paddle away from the enormous stern that was turning upside down right in front of them.

There was no sympathy in Chao’s gaze, just observational curiosity.  He didn’t care whether any of them lived or died.  Death was a fact of life.  Some just met their end sooner than others.  Although deep down, Chao did feel a spark of gratification as the largest empire in the world was caught completely off guard again.

The front of the Bowditch was sinking faster now as the flow of seawater into its damaged bow continued to outpace the rest of the ship.  The forward section of the main deck was already underwater, and it continued its slide beneath the heavy waves that would soon entomb it, forever.

***

The sudden roll of the Bowditch took everyone by surprise.  Alison jumped to her feet and screamed, watching the sea wash over the side of the ship and envelope the last of the crewmembers still on its stern.  “NO!”

Alison had been clinging to hopes that Clay and the Captain would still appear on deck and make it out in time, but any hope she had left was instantly washed away with the last of the crewmembers.

She stood in the raft, motionless, watching the last of the giant waves pour over the end of the stern.  No.  It wasn’t possible.  It wasn’t possible!  Clay was still aboard!

Alison’s bottom lip began to tremble as Kelly stood up behind her and wrapped her arms around Ali’s shoulders.  Tears began to well up.  She felt the hands of Chris and Lee each slip into hers and squeeze gently.

Behind her, Borger watched, completely stunned.  The moaning of the ship’s steel hull and the roar of the receding water was all that could be heard.  No sirens.  No horns.  No calls for help.  Nothing.

An overwhelming sense of dread silenced everyone, as the reality of what had just happened settled over the survivors.  It was a sickening feeling of death.

***

It took less than ten minutes for the last of the Bowditch’s gray hull to slip silently beneath the waves.  All that was left behind by the last bit of the stern was a gentle turbulence in the water.

In the distance, Borger watched Chao’s corvette disappear to the south.  The moment was punctuated by the sound of Alison weeping openly on Kelly’s shoulder.

The survivors watched solemnly as dozens of small craft could be seen leaving Georgetown, heading for them.  It was comforting but did nothing to ease the misery.

What did help came just a moment later: a loud sound behind them.  Almost in unison, more than one hundred and twenty heads turned around and spotted the distant object.  Alison had to wipe the tears from her eyes to see clearly.  When she saw it, she knew exactly what it was.

On the horizon was the unmistakable white hull of a ship she had been on before.

It was the Bowditch’s sister ship, Pathfinder, commanded by Captain Rudolph Emerson.  The sound the survivors had heard was a long steady blast from the Pathfinder’s horn.  With engines roaring, Emerson and his crew were charging south as fast as they possibly could.

59

Captain Emerson stood stoically inside the Pathfinder’s bridge.  They had been running hard all through the night and had received the Bowditch’s final distress call just minutes earlier.  Still, Emerson was stunned at what he saw: six life rafts, bobbing helplessly on the distant swells, surrounded by an ocean of debris.  Nothing else.

The Bowditch was gone.

“All hands,” he barked into his microphone.  “I repeat: all hands, report to the main deck and prepare to receive passengers!”

He dropped the microphone to his side and with steely blue eyes took in the scene through the giant window as they slowly approached.

“Get me Admiral Langford.”

***

Langford’s head hung low with both hands on his desk.  After a long pause, he collapsed into his chair.  He hung up with Emerson and switched back to the other line.  When he spoke again, his voice was very different than it had been just two minutes ago.

“Mr. President,” Langford’s tone was as heavy as his heart.  “The Bowditch has been destroyed.”

The call fell silent for several long seconds.  When the President’s voice spoke again, it was only one word.

“Survivors?”

Langford nodded.  “Yes.  But I don’t know how many yet.”

The White House had been wrong.  They’d underestimated the lengths the Chinese would go to protect their discovery.  Commander Lawton had said it was something countries would fight over, and she was right.  Which meant the potential of this new plant was every bit as accurate as she claimed, maybe more.  It wasn’t a fluke, or a mistake, or anything else the President’s cabinet had suggested.  It was something so powerful that the Chinese had just started a war.  And given how quickly they did it, he wondered to what lengths the second most powerful nation on earth was really willing to take it?

President Carr and everyone involved had prevented Langford from doing anything until it was too late, all in an effort to avoid conflict.  And by doing so, they had incited something far worse.

The point was not lost on anyone on Langford’s call.  They had been wrong and those on the Bowditch had paid the ultimate price.

“Are you still there, Admiral?”

“I am.”

“Good.”  The President’s voice was clear and sharp.  “I want you to listen carefully.  As of this moment, I authorize you to send whatever forces you need.”

Langford did not answer.  He remained staring at the wall.  He had ordered Krogstad to stop the Chinese corvette, even if it meant ramming it.  Christ, all of this was his fault.

“Did you hear me, Admiral?”

Langford blinked out of his daze.  “Yes.”

“All right,” said Carr.  The President then addressed his Chief of Staff.  “I want my entire security team on a call in fifteen minutes.”

***

The rescue was swift and smooth.  The Pathfinder’s rear platform had a lower height due to the remote control rovers with which they frequently experimented.  After relocating two large cranes on the platform, it served as the boarding point for the Bowditch’s survivors.

As one person after another was pulled up to safety, the expressions of thanks were everywhere.  Yet, when Alison finally climbed off the last raft, she displayed no such expression.  Her look was one of complete devastation.

Emerson spotted her and pressed through the crowd that was growing quickly.  “Where’s Clay?”

The Captain’s expression melted when Alison burst into tears.  Behind her, a black and blue Chris Ramirez frowned at the Captain and shook his head slowly from side to side.

Emerson couldn’t hide his disbelief.  Dear lord, we lost Clay!  He barely noticed when the rest of Alison’s team approached and surrounded her.  Emerson blinked several times, still stunned.  Finally, he asked the second question.  “And Captain Krogstad?”  He was met with nothing but silence.

The muscles in Emerson’s jaw clenched angrily.  If he still had a warship, he would have gone after that damn sub.  But he didn’t.  Both gradually and reluctantly, he accepted his primary objective: the safety of the survivors.  And for better or worse, the submarine appeared to be gone.

Even though the Pathfinder was a little smaller than the Bowditch, its crew managed to accommodate everyone by clearing space in the infirmary and mess hall.  It was tight, but within an hour, everyone had been checked out.  Emerson’s medical staff reported only a few more injuries.

However, the bodies of the Bowditch’s crewmembers that drowned in the deluge were still being recovered, hefted aboard, and bagged.  It was a painfully somber picture.

***

Alison and her team were sitting in a corner of the crowded mess hall as Will Borger came through the gray steel door, scanning the room.  When he spotted them, he hurried through the crowd.  His bright Hawaiian shirt stuck out like a beacon.

“Ms. Shaw.”

Alison peered up at him through puffy red eyes but said nothing.

Borger stopped and abruptly considered what he was about to say.  He chose his words carefully.  “Someone wants to talk to you outside.”

She lowered her head almost as if she hadn’t heard him speak.  “I’m not in the mood,” she whispered.

Borger was hurting as much as they were.  He’d worked with Clay for years and had the highest regard for him.  He was an incredible officer.  Clay was smart, resourceful, and always treated people with respect.  Even more than that, he was an amazing friend.

Borger could see that Alison was devastated but he persisted.  “Ms. Shaw.  It’s important.”

Alison looked up again with irritation.  But before she could reply, Borger cut her off.

“Trust me.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at the others, then rose slowly.  Frankly, she didn’t care if it was the President outside.  With a silent huff, she followed Borger back through the throngs of people.  Kelly, Chris, and Lee followed in single file behind her.

Brushing past people as she pushed her way through felt surreal.  Everyone Alison passed was talking in low voices about the Bowditch or Captain Krogstad.  But she didn’t hear anyone talking about Clay.  Most of them probably hadn’t even noticed him onboard.

Where the crowd became too thick, Borger reached back and gently guided her at the elbow.  He leaned forward and forced their way through, seemingly in a hurry.

Once outside, Alison stopped and looked around.  “What?”

“This way.”  He led them all up along the port side of the ship until they were within twenty feet of the bow, where he turned back and addressed them.  “Captain Emerson was just about to give the order to head for Georgetown when we saw them.”

“Saw who?”

Borger grinned and nodded over the side of the ship.  When the group of four spread out and peered over, they were all shocked to see Dirk and Sally in the waves below, staring up.

Alison’s eyes widened and she gasped.  “Sally!  Dirk!”

Both dolphins kept their heads above water and spoke back with a series of whistles and clicks.

As excited as Alison was to see them, a look of disappointment instantly replaced her momentary joy.  She hadn’t thought about their Prowler boat until now.  She scanned the horizon but found nothing.  It must have sunk as well.  After all, it was still tied to the Bowditch at the time of the attack.

“The servers,” she said.

Lee knew what she was thinking the minute she looked out at the water.  “The servers were on the Prowler.  So was the vest.  There’s no way to talk to them.”

Defeated, Alison watched silently as the dolphins continued speaking.

Chris, who hadn’t said anything, watched them too, curiously.  After about fifteen seconds of listening, he turned to her.  “Ali, are you noticing anything with Dirk and Sally?”

She turned to him listlessly.  “I don’t know.  What?”

Chris went back to watching them.  “Don’t they seem a little excited to you?”

“I guess so.”

“No, I mean unusually excited.”

“Maybe they’re hungry.”

Chris’ eyes narrowed on her and he bumped her in the shoulder intently.  “I’m serious.  Look at them.”

Trying to concentrate, Alison watched both dolphins.  She couldn’t understand them without the IMIS system, but she had grown familiar with some of their sounds.  Her brow furrowed as she listened closely.

Dirk suddenly disappeared underwater, but Sally continued talking just as quickly.  Something wasn’t right.

Lee noticed the exchanges between Ali and Chris.  “What is it?”

“They’re trying to talk to us.”

“No kidding.”

Chris was still looking down at the water.  “I think they’re trying to tell Alison something.”

“But we don’t have the servers.”

Borger cocked his balding head and ponytail.  “What kind of servers do you need?”

“It’s not just the hardware,” Lee replied.  “It’s the data.  Without that, we can’t do any local translations.”

Borger thought a minute.  “Do you have copies of the data?”

“Of course, but it is back at the lab, on IMIS.  The production system.”

“Do you ever connect remotely?” asked Borger.  “Like with a tunnel?’

“All the time.  But the amount of data we’re talking about would take forever to copy remotely.  Especially out here on a boat.  If we tried to copy it over satellite, we’d be retired long before it finished, and by then we wouldn’t remember why we needed it.”

Borger grinned at the joke.  “Well, that may be true over commercial satellite networks.  But the military satellites are lower in orbit, and consequently, much faster.”

“How much faster?”

“A lot faster.”

“Well, I don’t think it can do a hundred megabits.  And that’s pretty much what we’d need for a live feed from the main system.”  Lee almost turned away but noticed that Borger was still thinking.

After a moment, Borger leaned closer and lowered his voice.  “I think I might be able to do it.”  He winked at Lee.  “But you can’t tell anyone.”

***

It took less than thirty minutes for Borger to bundle the satellite channels into a single connection with enough throughput capacity.  The easy part was then passing the signal through his laptop to an underwater speaker and microphone they’d borrowed from the Pathfinder’s engineering crew.   By establishing an encrypted tunnel into the lab back in Puerto Rico and with the higher speed of his satellite connection, no processing of data had to happen on Borger’s laptop.  Instead, the processing would all happen directly on the giant IMIS system itself.

The tradeoff was that Borger had secretly commandeered most of the satellite network’s capacity, which meant a lot of other military users would be scratching their heads for a while, wondering why the system had slowed to a standstill.  Borger was hoping they would be done by then.

Outside, Alison and Chris had managed to get Sally and Dirk to come around to the Pathfinder’s stern with its lower deck.  Sally was still speaking rapidly, and Dirk had returned after disappearing several times.  He seemed…agitated.

Lee and Borger approached with Borger carrying his laptop.  “Okay,” Lee announced.  “We’re ready.  This may be a little kludgy, but it should work.  We’ll need to talk through Mr. Borger’s laptop.  The translations are going to be slower too because of the satellite connection.  So, we may need to be patient.”

Alison watched Dirk suddenly disappear again.  Each time it was for a longer duration.  “Anything else?”

“Yes,” replied Lee.  “Speak slowly.  And assume there’s no voice recognition on our side.  There’s too much background noise out here.”

Alison and Chris nodded at each other.  Behind them, Captain Emerson quietly approached to observe.

Borger placed his laptop down carefully on one of the ship’s large storage compartments.  The faded metal stood nearly waist high and approximately eight feet from the edge.  Lee stepped in next to him and looked up at Alison.  “Ready to turn it on?”

Alison turned back to Sally, who was still talking excitedly less than ten feet further out.  “Hit it.”

Behind her, Lee activated the software and the familiar translation screen came up.  The colored, dancing lines that represented IMIS’ translation process with intersecting data points came up on the display.  The computer’s system log data appeared in a second pane.   As soon as the application started running, the “Translating” button began flashing on the screen.  IMIS was instantly taking in the sounds from Sally.

In their lab, most of the translations to and from the dolphins happened very fast, especially since much of their language had now been identified.  But the new delay over the satellites meant it would take longer for IMIS to spit Sally’s words back out into English.

Nevertheless, when the first translation of Sally’s frantic words came back through the laptop’s speakers, none of them was prepared for what they heard.

60

Sounds under water.  Help need.  Hurry.

It took only seconds for Alison to understand what Sally was saying.  “Oh my god!” she cried and whirled around to Lee and Borger, who were both staring intently at the screen.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” asked Borger.

Alison urgently pushed past both men and typed a response on the keyboard.  “What do you hear, Sally?”

After a long pause, the translation came back from IMIS and was piped out over the underwater speakers.  It took even longer to wait for Sally’s response.  Hear sound below.  Short short short long long long short short short.   Many time.

Borger’s face became very serious.  “That’s SOS in Morse code!”

***

It was called a “Gumby” suit and the earliest version successfully used was in 1930, deep in the Atlantic.  They were conceived and designed from a single need for sailors trapped in dangerous situations below deck: survival.

Colored bright orange and made from thick, closed cell-foam neoprene, Gumby suits sported a wide opening allowing them to be donned and zipped up in mere seconds.  Their high collars sealed quickly over the mouth and nose, and an internal oxygen tank provided up to two hours of breathable air.  And Gumby suits had long since become standard equipment for every Navy ship.

The rigid design was inflexible.  And without a mask, only a familiar blurriness was visible underwater.  But the suits worked.  Had they not been stored on the ship’s second deck, neither Clay nor Krogstad would have survived the crushing wave of water that filled the ship when it came plunging down from above.

It was pure luck, as was the large underwater reef off the coast of Georgetown on which the wreckage of the Bowditch had landed, preventing it from descending into a much deeper abyss.  But in spite of their initial good fortune, both Clay and Krogstad were now almost out of oxygen.

Movement was extremely limited within the suits, and they could barely see each other’s blurry shapes under the water, against the ship’s dimming emergency lights.

Clay couldn’t communicate with Krogstad, so instead he concentrated on forcing himself past the body’s natural panic reaction.  He knew how quickly hyperventilating would use up his precious air and tried to remain calm as possible.  But the raw emotion of fear was relentless.  He repeatedly felt his body’s survival instincts attempt to seize control, and each time he forced himself through it.   He had to think.  It was the only way to fight, so Clay floated motionless, going through the logistics.  How much air did he have?  How fast was he breathing?

He remembered equalizing the pressure in his ears three times on the way down, which meant his depth was probably between eighty and a hundred feet.  And that meant his compressed air would not last long.  Thankfully, he was in excellent shape, which gave his respiratory system a higher level of efficiency.

He had gingerly reached around in an effort to find something, anything.  His thick, gloved hand had brushed several small items before he found a pipe on the floor beneath him.  It had been thrown free from one of the maintenance closets after being ripped open by the torpedo blast.  With it, he proceeded to tap out the letters S…O…S on what he believed to be a wall close to the outside hull.

After almost an hour of tapping, Clay took another break and cracked open one of his eyes.  The red lights appeared to be fading overhead.  How long would they stay on?  Without them, he wouldn’t be able to see anything at all.

But it wasn’t the lights that were fading.  It was his brain.  The air in the suit was nearing depletion.  Clay’s brain was suffering from the inability of his lungs to draw in and supply him with enough oxygen.  His thoughts were slowing and becoming more difficult to follow.

He opened his eyes wider and looked again for Krogstad, whose gray silhouette was no longer moving.  He was older than Clay, which meant he most likely was drawing his breaths faster.  Clay reached out with his foot and bumped the captain.  There was no reaction from Krogstad.  He simply floated silently a few feet away.

Clay’s body shuddered for a second time.  He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his skin.  His renewed banging of the pipe against the inside hull was now beginning to slow, until it finally stopped altogether.  His eyelids began to close on him and the pipe fell from his grasp.

It was then that Clay could see.  He could see Alison’s beautiful face looking at him, saddened.  A wave of remorse washed over him.  Remorse of what his death would do to her.  She didn’t need any more grieving in her life.  Alison’s image was replaced by his parents.  They were standing together, young, before the divorce, and beaming at him with proud smiles.  The feeling of remorse faded and was replaced by something warmer, something comforting.  They were waiting for him and ready to welcome him into their eternal arms.

As his remaining air faded, Clay’s last lucid thought was a pleasant one: the image of a dolphin.  He would always remember how happy they looked with their curved mouth and perpetual smile.

***

It took Dirk four tries to navigate through the labyrinth of mangled ship and find where the sound was coming from.  Then just as he did, the banging abruptly ended.

There were two of them, surrounded in strange shapes that resembled large crabs.  And neither was moving.  Dirk knew that when humans became still in the water, it was very bad.  He quickly latched his teeth onto the nearest of the two figures and pulled him backward.  He then circled around, pressed his nose against the limp body inside, and pushed it forward.  Together they moved through the maze, over giant shards of twisted metal and missing decks, and through the fields of floating debris.

***

Jim Lightfoot was Captain Emerson’s go-to guy for water dives.  Lightfoot was part of the research team, and at six foot three he was young and strong.  More importantly, he had been a championship swimmer in a former life.

Dressed in nothing but a pair of blue swim trunks, Lightfoot hurtled onto the bench seat on the ship’s stern while several crewmen frantically added his gear.  Two men slipped fins on his feet while two more lifted the heavy tanks onto his back.  He quickly tested his regulator and nodded, then pulled the mask down over his tan face.

As he stood, Alison turned away from Borger’s laptop and peered up at Lightfoot.

“Hold on to Sally.  She’ll take you!”

“Okay.”  Lightfoot nodded and returned the regulator back between his lips.  Without hesitation, he took three exaggerated steps with his fins and plunged into the blue water.

After performing a short self-check, Lightfoot swam forward to where Sally was waiting.   He wrapped his right hand around her large dorsal fin and held on tight as she kicked her powerful tail and dove.  Together, they descended through the shimmering blue water into the darkness below.

Lightfoot kept his left hand on his nose and continually cleared his ears as Sally raced straight down.  The stern of the sunken Bowditch quickly came into view, propped eerily on its side in the watery tomb.  Sally continued along the underside of the hull and leveled them out near the mid-section.  The light from above had now stopped reflecting any color but deep blue, creating strange shadows along the side of the ship as they passed.

When they neared the bow of the ship, Lightfoot saw the enormous hole extending far beneath and out of sight.  No wonder it sank so fast.

As they neared the hole, Lightfoot saw what they were looking for.  A second dolphin emerged, dwarfed by the giant hole and pushing a human shape into the open.  Lightfoot nearly lost his grip as Sally accelerated.  With his right hand, he equalized his ears one last time and reached behind him.  He found the second line and followed it to the end where he gripped the second regulator.  He then brought it around in front of him and tested the button on top, producing a small explosion of bubbles.   It was ready.

When Sally neared, Lightfoot let go of her fin and kicked forward with the momentum.  He reached out and grabbed the thick Gumby suit to pull the figure closer to him.  There was no movement at all.

Lightfoot immediately fingered the seal across the figure’s face and glanced at the second regulator in this right hand.  The switch would have to be very fast.

***

Everyone on the stern of the Pathfinder waited impatiently, barely breathing.  Alison stood on the edge, gripping the rail with both hands and staring intently down into the water.  She couldn’t see anything.  “Please,” she pleaded under her breath.  “Pleeease!”

After a torturous silence, Lee broke the tension from his spot behind them.  “I think they’re coming up!”

Alison ran to the screen and stared at Sally’s last message.  We come back.  She could barely stand it.  She stepped back to the rail and tried to anticipate the steps.  Lightfoot had to come up very slowly due to decompression.  And if things were going well, he’d probably stop again about twenty feet down for the nitrogen to gas off.  She glanced at her watch.  They’d been down several minutes already, which meant the delay could either be good news, or very, very bad.

But if it were good, how on earth could anyone survive for that long underwater?  A sudden, devastating thought occurred to her.  What if the sound the dolphins heard was just some metal banging together?  What if what Dirk was trying to bring up was simply someone’s remains?

Kelly stepped in next to her and wrapped an arm around Ali’s shoulders just as her knees began to weaken.  “Easy, Ali,” she whispered.

But Alison never heard her.  The fear of what Dirk might really be bringing back to them had just taken her breath away.

***

When Lightfoot appeared, he came without warning.  Most of his ascent had been directly beneath the Pathfinder, so when he reached the surface, the crew jumped.  They eagerly pulled him aboard, along with the orange figure floating next to him.

They lifted the figure up and onto the metal deck of the stern just as the ship’s doctor barged through.

“Move!”  The doctor yelled and knelt down over the unconscious man.

Behind him, Alison pushed forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face.  It was obscured by both the crew crowding before her as well as the Gumby suit’s oversized cap and face cover.

Doctor Khanna made several compressions against the person’s chest and then leaned back.  “Get him onto his side!”

The crewmembers complied and rolled the figure onto his left side, allowing a small stream of seawater to drain from his mouth and lungs.  When it had stopped, they quickly rolled him back onto his back, where Khanna performed CPR.  After a full minute, he heard something and leaned back onto his knees, expectantly.

Finally, with a violent convulsion, John Clay coughed.

61

Clay’s eyes fluttered open painfully under the bright sun, and he quickly rolled his head away.  Several silhouettes loomed over him, seemingly all speaking at once.  Inside, his mind was racing, trying to piece together the last clear memories he had.

He had been below deck…with Krogstad.  They were searching for someone, a crewmember, when the ship moved.  It moved quickly.  They could hear the flood of water coming.  The suits were nearby.  Thank god.

His mind skipped forward.  He was under the water then surfaced again.  Sounds of the surging water were all around him, and he was breathing through the suit.  But he had to slow down.  He was going to hyperventilate.

Clay suddenly convulsed and clasped the arm of one of the silhouettes above his head.  The suit was out of air!  He couldn’t breathe!

But he was breathing now.  Clay drew in deeply.  And that blinding glare was the sun.  He was alive.

Clay was now fully aware and rolled his head back to center.  He bent his arm over his eyes to block the bright light.  Finally, the silhouettes became faces.  He recognized one of them as Khanna.  Clay’s memory scanned its data bank.  Khanna was a doctor.  But what was he doing here?  He served on Emerson’s ship.  The Pathfinder.  He blinked repeatedly and looked at the other faces.

There was only one other face that he recognized.  And it was the only one he cared about at that moment: Alison.

She was peering over the shoulder of one of the crewmen with a desperate look on her face.  When she saw Clay notice her, she tried to smile but lost it.  Instead, she broke down and pushed through the others, falling onto her knees next to him.

Clay reached out and pulled her down onto his chest.  He could hear her crying and wrapped his arms tightly around her.  After a long moment, he pushed Alison up by the shoulders to look at her.  Her eyes were filled.

A reassuring smile formed on Clay’s handsome face.  “Well, that was close.”

Alison shook her head and covered her face with her hands.  “For God’s sake, stop doing that!”

Dr. Khanna breathed a little easier and leaned back further to give them some room.

Clay watched Khanna stand up.  “Where’s Krogstad?”

The doctor frowned.  “They’ve gone back down for him.”

Breathing deep, Clay covered one eye with the heel of his hand.  He was still down there.  Then the memory flashed back.  Krogstad had stopped moving long before Clay’s air ran out.  He shook his head in sorrow.

“Where’s Borger?”  He searched the faces of the people still kneeling around him.  None of them knew to whom Clay was referring.  Finally, Alison wiped her tears away and rose up, scanning the area.  She spotted him at the back of the crowd and waved him in closer.

Borger came around in front of Clay then twisted his head to match Clay’s orientation.  “Howdy, Clay.”

“Will, what happened?”

Borger took a deep breath.  “Uh, well, the Bowditch sunk.  And it almost took you with it.”

Clay nodded.  “Thanks for finding me.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I could say ‘you’re welcome.’  But it wasn’t us.”  Borger grinned at Alison.

“Dirk found you,” she said, with a sniff.

“Dirk?”

“He heard you banging on the wall.”

Clay furrowed his brow.  He’d forgotten that part.  “I’ll be damned.”

“I think you’re going to owe him a boatload of fish for this one,” Borger joked.

“Indeed.”  His expression became serious.  “Who hit us, Will?”

“The torpedo?  I don’t know.  But I agree with what you said earlier.  The Forel was never designed for weapons.  Unless it was done after the fact.”

“That’s what the brass is going to think.”

“They probably already are.”

Clay reached out to both Alison and Borger.  “Help me up.”  Once on his feet, he kept his hands on their shoulders, steadying himself.  He spotted Captain Emerson, who stepped in towards him.

Emerson shook his head, smiling.  “You have nine lives my friend.”  He put his hand out.  “Now I’m wondering how many you have left.”

Clay shook his outstretched hand.  “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

“Any time.”  Emerson’s face turned somber as he glanced over at his crew.  They were still standing in anticipation at the edge of the ship, waiting for Krogstad.  Or more likely, Krogstad’s body.  “I was supposed to call Langford,” Emerson commented.  “But maybe you should instead.”

***

Langford picked up the call on the first ring.  He was relieved to hear Clay’s voice and immediately asked about Krogstad.  His voice became quiet when he heard they were still waiting.  He was a Navy man, and he knew what that meant.

Clay changed the subject.  “Sir, what’s our response?”

Langford knew he meant the U.S. military response.  “We don’t know yet.  We’re trying to figure that out.  There are a lot of factors in play here.”

“I’m not so sure it was the Russians, sir.  It would have taken a massive design change on the Forel.”

“Well, we know they’ve already modified some things on that sub.  Now we need to find out how much.  The CIA is on it.  In the meantime, we’re considering our options.”

“Yes, sir.  However, we appear to have another problem.”  Clay looked at Borger as he spoke.  “Borger says there’s a fire on top of our mountain, where the Chinese were sourcing whatever they took.  A big fire.”

“Damn it.”  Langford turned around, thinking.  He was standing quietly in the corner of the President’s Situation Room.  “How do you feel, Clay?”

“I feel fine,” he lied.

“What do you need?”

Clay peered at Alison and Borger as he spoke.  “Some transportation.”

“Let me make some phone calls.”

62

It took them hours to finally reach the top of the mountain.  With the vehicle’s powerful engine constantly roaring up the steep inclines, DeeAnn couldn’t even hear herself think.  Next to her, both Dulce and Dexter were still trapped in their cages and fearfully peered through the steel bars.  DeeAnn was trying to comfort them, but the noise was too loud for her vest to translate anything.  It was without a doubt the longest ride of her life.

The smoke from the fire was extremely heavy due to the jungle’s damp air.  Rather than rising, some of the brown layers descended outward and down the mountainside.  And the thick smoke made their climb over the final hill even more shocking, when they finally saw the fire in curtains of wild dancing flames all around them.  In some areas, it caused the dark smoke to glow a crimson red.

Once he had a full view, Alves’ driver stopped and everyone’s mouth fell open.  The breadth of the destruction was immense.

Alves’ hope of a miracle promptly evaporated, and at the same moment, Dexter went completely ballistic.  He screamed at the top of his tiny lungs and pulled even harder against the bars of his cage.  His desperate hands searched the outside lock and frantically tried to finger it open.

Dulce was visibly shaking while watching Dexter.  A helpless feeling washed over DeeAnn as she realized that she couldn’t help either primate.  Both had devolved into full panic attacks, and no amount of training could help now.

A desperate Alves pushed open his door and jumped out onto the smoldering earth.  He stood there in shock, watching the flames stretching up into the brown sky.  No! NO!

From a distance, the black earth looked utterly lifeless.  He could not even ascertain what had originally been on the ground before it was burned beyond all recognition.  Alves abruptly pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his mouth to reduce his coughing.

Dexter was still screaming when Blanco’s man pulled the cages out of the back of the vehicle and dropped them onto the ground.  DeeAnn spotted the fur around the capuchin’s miniature hands, soaked red with blood as he tried fiercely to move the bars.  His dark pupils were wide with fear.

“Let them out!” DeeAnn screamed.

But Alves didn’t hear her.  He and the other men were taking in the sheer destruction before them with a sense of awe.  For Alves, the scene caused a gut wrenching sense of mortality.  His mind tried to understand how something like this was even possible, here in the mountains of the Amazon.

Then both Alves and Blanco spotted it at the same time.  Less than fifty yards away, lying on top of the burnt ground were boots.  They were protruding out from behind a large group of rocks.  One of the dark boots was pointing up with the other twisted sideways against the ground.  Both men hurried across the scorched ground with Alves moving surprisingly fast without his cane.

When they rounded the enormous rock, the entire body became visible on the ground.  Dressed in a gray, partially burnt uniform, the man was twisted onto his side and wearing a giant, mechanical pack.  On it, they could see two metal tanks with a long hose dangling to the ground.  The dead man remained motionless with his right cheek against the ground, goggles pulled down over his face.  Both Alves and Blanco stared at the lifeless body with confusion.

The soldier’s face was frozen in a look of agony and part of the skin was blackened as well.  Yet his characteristics were still clearly Chinese, with dark eyes gazing upward at the sky.  The corpse’s left arm was still under one of the straps, appearing as though the figure had been trying to get the pack off when he entered the eternal realm.  Blanco circled around the body and pushed it over further with his boot.  On the back of his uniform was a large patch of blood.

“He was shot from behind.”

Alves recognized the flamethrower and shook his head, dumbfounded.  He was still holding the handkerchief over his mouth.  “Why?  Why would they do this?  If they got here first, why would they destroy it?”

Blanco coughed and covered his mouth with his sleeve.  He scanned the area and spotted another body further away, also on the ground.  “Maybe they didn’t know what they were doing.”

Alves followed Blanco’s eyes to the second body.  “Or they were used.”

“Or both.”

Alves stepped away before reaching down to pick up a scorched piece of vegetation off the ground.  He wiggled his fingers and watched it break apart into pieces of ash and drift away.

Further down the slope, he could see a much larger section completely untouched by the fire.  The soil looked lumpy, like it had been turned up.  His eyes grew wide when he realized what it meant.  Excavation!

Behind them, the sound of Dexter’s screaming abruptly ceased.  They both whirled around and Alves’ face drained in a panic.  “NOOO!” he screamed.

DeeAnn had managed to open the cage.  Alves watched helplessly from a distance as Dexter bolted away from them and disappeared into a wisp of swirling brown smoke.

Alves was livid!  With the area destroyed, the monkey’s genome was his last and only hope.  “Get him!” he yelled to one of Blanco’s men who stood peering after the monkey, uncertain of what to do.

“GET HIM!”

The man gave a brief nod and ran after the monkey, disappearing into the smoke.

Alves stormed back up the small incline.  DeeAnn, who had also let Dulce out of the second cage, stood defiantly, firmly grasping Dulce’s hand

“You’ll pay for that!” Alves growled.  “You will PAY!”  Out of breath, he stopped less than ten feet from her.  The second of Blanco’s men promptly stepped in from behind and seized DeeAnn by the back of the neck.  She stumbled forward from the impact but managed to hold onto Dulce.

Alves’ mouth curled into pure hatred and his face turned dark red.  “Tell the gorilla to go find him!”

DeeAnn did not answer.

“I SAID, TELL THE GORILLA TO FIND HIM!”

DeeAnn continued staring.  When she spoke, it was a single, unmistakable word.  “No.”

Alves’ eyes looked as though they would pop from their sockets.  He turned to Blanco.  “Kill him!  Kill Diaz!  Now!”

“You were going to kill us anyway.”

Standing next to Alves, Blanco’s dark eyes jumped to DeeAnn and studied her.  At the same time, a sinister smile crept across his rugged face, sending shivers down DeeAnn’s spine.  He was enjoying this.

Without a word, Blanco approached DeeAnn’s side and replaced the other man’s hand with his own iron grip on her neck.  Dulce whimpered and darted behind DeeAnn’s leg.

“Go get the phone,” motioned Blanco.  Without a word, his man nodded and headed back toward the vehicle behind them.  It was slowly being enveloped by a small curtain of smoke.

“Jesus, what a stupid woman!” growled Alves.  He glanced at Blanco and nodded his head.  “Take it off.”

Blanco immediately reached his thick arm over DeeAnn’s shoulder and down across her chest.  With two quick motions, he tore it loose, allowing the vest to fall to the ground.

Alves stepped forward and picked it up.  He then slid his arms through and tightened the Velcro straps.

“Then I’ll tell her.  I’m sure she’ll want to save your life.”  He turned the vest toward Dulce, who was peering out from behind DeeAnn.  “Dulce,” Alves commanded in a stern voice.  “Go find Dexter.”

Dulce didn’t move.

Alves looked down at the unit.  Nothing came out of the speaker.  He flipped the power button up and down and repeated.

Still nothing.

He glared at DeeAnn.  “What did you do to it?!”

DeeAnn merely shook her head, silently.

“Tell me!” Alves yelled.

Her response was smart.  “Your idiot driver should have slowed down.  The vest is broken.”

Alves’ eyes narrowed.  He checked the vest again and spoke one more time.  Nothing.

“It’s over,” DeeAnn said.  “Your crazy obsession for immortality is over.”

To her surprise, Alves laughed.  “Over?  You think this is over?  Nothing’s over.  The monkey’s still out there, probably along with many more like him.  And even if I can’t find them, whatever was here hasn’t just been destroyed.  Some of it has been removed and taken somewhere.”  He displayed a delirious grin.  “Which means I can find it.  I have more resources than you can imagine.  Billions of dollars and an army of people.  And I’ll spend every last dime finding what was taken from here.  No, it’s not over.  It’s just beginning!”

DeeAnn was staring in disbelief at Alves, when she felt Blanco’s body weight subtly shift behind her.  She gasped when his gun appeared over her shoulder.

Alves was still watching DeeAnn when he suddenly noticed the same thing.  He looked at Blanco with a puzzled expression.  The gun was pointed at him.

“What are you doing?”

Blanco was still squeezing DeeAnn’s neck, yet leveled the barrel of his gun directly at Alves’ chest.  “Enough of your insanity.”

Alves was thoroughly confused.  His mind was having trouble processing what his eyes were seeing.

“You would,” Blanco said accusingly.  “You have more money than most people could ever imagine, and I believe that you would spend every last dime trying to escape your own fate.  It’s not bad enough that you’ve raped our country for your fortune, now you want to use your blood money to cheat death too, a fate many of your victims have already faced.”

Alves’ expression changed from confusion to concern.

“How many families could live a good life from your money?” Blanco continued.  “Families like mine.  Instead, you would spend every last bit trying to extend one life already lived like a king.”

“What are you talking about?” Alves cried.  “I pay you well.  You know that!”

Blanco smiled.  “Yes, and now you’re about to pay me even better.  It’s time for someone else to assume the throne.”

“You can’t,” Alves challenged.  “It’s all in my name.  Killing me gets you nothing.”

“It’s not all in your name.  Carolina has access to more than enough.”

“Carolina?”  Alves’ eyes escalated to a look of panic.  He was right.  Carolina had enough signing authority.  It wouldn’t get Blanco all of it, but it would still make him rich.  “She would never do it.”

Blanco’s smile was mocking.  “You underestimate the loyalty of a woman in love.  She already has.”

“You can’t do this.”

Blanco shifted his head, unmercifully.  “You said death could come from anywhere, no?”

It was the last sentence Alves ever heard. Before he could respond, Blanco pulled the trigger and fired a round straight into his chest, ripping a gaping hole through the right ventricle of Alves’ heart.  The old man was dead before he hit the ground.

DeeAnn screamed, then became frozen, stunned from both the explosion of the gun and the instantaneous death of Mateus Alves.  She stared helplessly when Dulce screamed and abruptly bounded away down the mountainous slope.

Blanco marched forward with DeeAnn stumbling beside him.  He stood over Alves and fired a second round into his chest.  Then he turned and looked back toward the smoke.  Where were his men?  “Luis!  Marco!  Get out here!”

He yanked DeeAnn down.  He slapped her hard across the face, causing her to collapse onto the ground in a daze.  He used her shirt to wipe the gun clean then grabbed her right hand, wrapping it around the butt.  Finally, he forced her fingers through the guard and over the trigger.

“Get out here, damn it!”  Blanco yelled louder over his shoulder.  DeeAnn blinked repeatedly, still trying to process what had happened and to think of what to do next.

Blanco looked up as a figure finally appeared out of the smoke.  He opened his mouth to yell something else but stopped.  The figure didn’t look like either of his men.  This one was muscular and wide and dressed entirely in black.  Blanco paused, wondering whether his eyes and the smoke were simply deceiving him.  As the figure approached, he strained to see who it was.

DeeAnn recognized him immediately, if not from his face then from his profile.  The black hair and mustache were unmistakable.  The instant relief she felt was overwhelming and DeeAnn began to cry.

Steve Caesare stopped and looked down, assessing.  In his right hand was the outline of a large gun.  He smiled at Blanco.  “Luis and Marco aren’t doing too well.”

“Who are you?!” Blanco spat.

“I’m the Cavalry.”

Blanco quickly grabbed the gun back out of DeeAnn’s weak hand.  He moved his left hand around to the front of her neck and pressed the gun into her cheek.  “Take another step forward and she’s dead.”

Caesare calmly raised his gun and motioned over his shoulder.  “You’re going to have to go through me to get to that Jeep.”

Blanco snarled and pressed his gun harder into DeeAnn’s face.  “I’ll take her with me.”

Caesare smiled again, condescendingly.  “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“No?”  He got to his feet, pulling her up along with him.  “Drop your gun, or I’ll kill her now.”

“What is this, a movie?” Caesare mocked.  “I’m sensing you don’t think very far ahead.  If you kill her, I’ll kill you.  And believe me, you won’t like the way I do it.”

Blanco was growing nervous.  He pulled the barrel away from DeeAnn and pointed it at Caesare.  “Then you die.”

“I’ll take you with me.”  Caesare’s eyes grew cold and hard.  “That I promise you.”

Blanco didn’t answer.  Instead, he glanced around feverously.

“If you kill her, you die.  If you kill me, you die.  So, the only way you make it out of here alive is to let her go.”

”I…”  Blanco heard a noise and cut himself off.  Something was coming toward them.  “What is that?”

Caesare listened then smiled.  He recognized the faint pitch easily.  “That’s the sound of prison.”

***

Less than a hundred feet away, Dulce remained hidden behind a boulder.  She peered carefully around the side of the rock, keeping her eyes on the embankment above. Were the bad men coming?  She didn’t know what to do.

She watched the wisps of smoke glide through the air, as she listened and waited.  The crying had stopped, but the bad men had her mommy.  Then something else.  Another voice.  A deeper voice.  Dulce’s eyes opened excitedly.  It was a voice she recognized.

When she heard it again, Dulce jumped out from behind the rock and scurried back up the grassy embankment.  When she reached the top, she continued straight through the smoke at Caesare.  He here!  He here!

***

Caesare was staring intently at Blanco, waiting for an opportunity, when he noticed something come bounding up the hill.  He kept his gun pointed at Blanco and glanced to the side.  It was Dulce!  His heart softened momentarily until he realized that she was headed for him at full speed.  He put out his palm, “DULCE, NO!”

She didn’t stop.  Scared out of her wits, she ran for one of the few people she knew could keep her safe.

“NO!” was all Caesare got out before Dulce closed the distance and leapt for him, diving into his arms and knocking him backward.

Caesare had been waiting for an opportunity, but so had Blanco.  As soon as the gorilla hit Caesare, Blanco fired.

63

Caesare stumbled back again as the bullet tore through his right side and exited his lower back.  Blanco aimed again but didn’t fire.  Rather, he froze as the faint sound he had heard moments ago quickly became a roar, and a helicopter suddenly thundered over their heads.

Caesare collapsed onto one knee but still managed to get a shot off, striking Blanco in his exposed shoulder.

Blanco yelled and threw DeeAnn to the ground.  He sprinted away at an angle and fired twice more for cover.  Neither bullet found their mark, but it was all he needed to make it to the protection of another patch of smoke floating idly past.  In an instant, Blanco was gone.

The moment he was hit, Caesare felt Dulce go limp in his arms.  She tried to scream but couldn’t.  The bullet had gone through her small body before hitting him.  He kept her in his arms and rolled her gently onto her back.  Her eyes softly staring at him, Dulce tried to talk but nothing came out.  The bullet had gone right through her lungs.  Her hands tried to grip Caesare but couldn’t.  Instead, she fell backward in his arms and cried her final tears.

***

John Clay made a tight circle and landed the small helicopter as quickly as he could.  With a hard thump onto the ground, he powered it down and kicked his door open before jumping out.  From the second seat, Alison opened her own door and climbed down followed by Will Borger.  Even with the air obscured, they knew exactly where the others were…by following the sound of DeeAnn’s screaming.

When they came into view, Caesare was sitting on the ground, propped up against a large rock, trying to press his hands against both sides of his wound.  DeeAnn stood next to him, frantically hugging Dulce and sobbing.  Unaware of the others running toward them across the charred field, DeeAnn knelt down and laid Dulce on the dirt.  She quickly lifted her tiny chin and blew into her mouth.  She then locked her fingers together and began pumping Dulce’s chest.

Caesare’s red eyes looked up at Clay as he approached, then fell back down to Dulce.  “Help her, John!” he said, with gritted teeth.

Clay started to kneel but suddenly stopped.  “Where’s my bag?!”

Caesare blinked, thinking.  “Back there, about thirty yards.”

Bolting past Caesare, Clay ran up the short incline.  He spotted the bag on the ground, close to where a vehicle had been parked, judging by the tread marks.  He sprinted over and ripped the bag open.  When he found the small pocket inside, he pulled out what he was looking for and came back running.

When he returned, Alison was on the ground, next to DeeAnn, blowing air through Dulce’s wide lips while DeeAnn kept pumping.  It wasn’t working.

Clay stopped before them and locked eyes with Caesare, who was staring curiously back at him.  He opened his hand and studied the square, silver cube in his palm.  A year ago, the device had changed history in the blink of an eye.

Clay knelt to the ground at Caesare’s feet, watching his labored breathing.  He looked at him one more time before turning to Dulce.  Then Clay pressed the cube against her soft, furry chest.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it firmly against Dulce’s body.  “Come on.  Come on!”

DeeAnn and Alison paused and looked at the object.  Beneath Clay’s hand, Dulce’s body merely sagged under the pressure.  She was as still as a rag doll.  After several attempts, Clay removed his hand and stood up, taking a step backwards.

Both women were looking at Clay, wondering what he was doing.  Then it happened.  A bright blue flash emanated from the silver cube and rippled outward over Dulce’s small figure.

The elements inside the cube activated.  With a bright flash, the cube’s mysterious element created a powerful magnetic circle, which instantaneously began to fuse the deuterium core.  The inside of the circle glowed bright blue at first.  Then suddenly it turned black as all light was sucked out, and the portal reached out to connect through time and space.

Alison and DeeAnn, along with Borger standing behind them, all gaped in stunned silence as the gateway opened.  Clay and Caesare had seen it before.

It took only seconds before a human figure appeared within the glowing portal, which had now stretched itself into the shape of an oval.  The figure was shorter than average and peered out at the black ground in front of him with a puzzled expression.

He had a smooth bald head and deep blue eyes.  He stepped out of the portal, looking surprisingly calm as his gaze found the women.  He then followed their arms down to Dulce.

Palin looked up from the gorilla’s small body and over to Clay, just as two more men came out of the portal behind him.  “You’re learning.”

64

While the two other men examined Dulce, Palin turned to Caesare on the ground and examined him curiously.  “You appear to get shot frequently.”

Caesare tried to laugh but couldn’t.  Instead, he coughed up a small drop of bloody spittle.

A minute later, after quickly bandaging Dulce, one of Palin’s men rose with the small gorilla in his arms and headed for the portal.  The second man moved to Caesare and began examining his wound.

Palin remained still, observing, before his blue eyes turned to Clay.  “Hello, John Clay.”

Clay grinned.  “Hello, Palin.”

“We are pleased to see you again.”

“So are we.”

They both glanced back when Caesare groaned painfully.  Palin’s medic was pressing a thin silver patch against his lower abdomen with another to his back.  Clay quickly stepped forward to help as the medic began to pull Caesare up onto his feet.

Once up, the medic tucked his head under Caesare’s arm for support.  Without a word, he walked Caesare forward to the portal and stepped through, just as the first man carrying Dulce had done.

Palin clasped his hands behind his back and, with a hint of humor, raised an eyebrow at Alison, DeeAnn, and Borger.  None of them had moved an inch.  “Have you not informed your friends about our first meeting?”

“Oh, I have,” Clay mused.  “But there is nothing like seeing this first hand.”

Palin nodded and kept his smirk.  He stepped back to the portal before turning around to face Clay and the others again.  He looked curiously at them.  “Are you coming?”

65

The temperature change stepping into the portal was a shock.  The hot, humid, and smoky air was instantly replaced by a cool and crisp atmosphere.  In his mind, it triggered an old memory for Clay: like jumping from a hot tub into a cold swimming pool.

The place they followed Palin into was wide and clean.  The lighting was also slightly dimmer, telling Clay that they were indoors.  He judged the room to be roughly a hundred feet by another sixty wide.  It appeared to be a perfectly cut rectangular area within lightly colored stone that resembled granite.  While he scanned the walls, Clay instinctively turned back for Alison as she stepped timidly through.  Behind her came a very startled DeeAnn and a fascinated Will Borger.

Grasping Alison’s hand, Clay turned back around to Palin and the strange room.  It was filled with people running back and forth.  Few seemed to even notice them.  They were speaking a different language.  Caesare and Dulce were nowhere to be seen.

Not far away, another bright flash of light burst from the air and a second portal opened.  Two people, a man and a woman, dressed in identical light blue clothing, rushed past Clay and disappeared into its black center.

“Where are we?”  Clay asked.

“This is our planet.”

Clay’s gaze followed several others who rushed past.  “What is this place?”

Palin smiled, watching a mesmerized Borger study the entire room behind them.  The stone walls towered over their heads, each with wide hallways at floor level.  “It’s a hospital.”

“A hospital?”

Clay watched as the two who had run into the other portal came back out carrying a lifeless figure.  A third worker instantly arrived, pushing a floating gurney onto which they lowered the figure carefully.  They all then disappeared together down one of the hallways.

DeeAnn stepped forward.  “Where’s Dulce?”

Palin studied her for a moment.  “Dulce is your gorilla?”

“Yes.”

“The gorilla is being attended to.  As is Mr. Caesare.”

“Attended to?  What does that mean?”

“I mean, being cared for.”

DeeAnn’s eyes became huge and she had to keep herself from leaping forward to grab him.  “Wait, she’s alive?!”

“Probably.”

“But…she…”

Palin answered DeeAnn before she could finish.  “Died?  She may have.  We’ll know soon.  Mr. Clay did activate the portal quickly which means your gorilla has a much better chance now.”  He turned back to Clay.  “I’m quite certain Mr. Caesare will survive his wounds.”

“So it is a life saving device.”

“That is correct.  A combination energy source and computer, designed to fuse in the event of a critically incapacitated host.  You may remember having seen one before.”

“Uh, yeah,” Clay nearly chuckled.  How could he forget?  It was Palin’s device that had been activated.  Clay thought of something.  “What did you mean back there when you said, ‘you’re learning?’”

“You used the device I gave you to save the gorilla, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“And you knew it could be used only once.”

“I suspected.”

Palin’s face softened.  “Then I meant exactly what I spoke.  You are learning, John Clay.  You’re learning that there is more to life than simply being at the top of the food chain.”

On the far side of the room, Borger witnessed the appearance of a third portal, and more people hurrying toward it.  “Does everyone have a cube?”

“Not everyone,” Palin replied.

“How do they work?  How much energy do they require?”

“The energy required is very large.  Two-way tunnels can be activated from great distances with the help of these devices.  However, a one-way tunnel is much more limited, both in distance and energy.”

Alison gasped.  “That’s how you did it?  That’s how you saved him!”

Palin cocked his head.  “Saved who?”

“Dirk.  Our dolphin!  When you were on Earth!”

“Correct,” he nodded.  “It was at great cost, but your facility was just within range for a one-way tunnel.”

“What great cost?”

“These portals are very complex.  They require large amounts of energy to establish a tunnel.  A two-way tunnel, initiated from one of our portable energy sources, is more efficient and requires less energy.  A one-way tunnel doesn’t have an initiating endpoint.  Instead, the process is far more difficult.  Without a source, the one side must bore a hole, which requires an enormous amount of energy.  Energy of which we have little left.”

“But you still did it.”

“We did it twice, Ms. Shaw,” Palin corrected.  “The first was pulling your dolphin out from under an explosive device.  The second time was delivering him back to you.  In hindsight, given how much energy we lost, it was not a wise decision.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because we were grateful.  Your dolphin saved us, and as I said, there is much more to life than being at the top of the food chain.”

DeeAnn interrupted.  “I’m sorry, but I need to see Dulce.  I need to know if she is all right!”

Palin nodded.  “Very well.”

He led them into another hallway, cut from the same stone as the rest of the room.  As they walked, Borger studied the low ceiling, which appeared lit, but he couldn’t find any lights.  It was almost as if the air itself was illuminated.  They passed several doors and felt the refreshing wisps of dry, cool air against the perspiration on their skin.  Palin slowed at the fifth door and pushed it quietly open.  Inside was the medic that had carried Dulce from the smoke strewn jungle.

Dulce’s still body lay on a smooth examination table with several strange devices hanging over her from above.  The medic was moving a flat surface from one of the devices back and forth across her small furry body.

“What is that?”

“The cells in our body, just as in yours, are energy driven.  And energy travels in frequencies.  The device he is using radiates special frequencies that stimulate cellular activity and, in this case, repair.”

“Is she alive?”

“The definition of life, or death, extends beyond what your world currently understands.  Life within a body is comprised according to our cellular structure.  And cells remain usable longer than you know.”  Palin turned from Dulce’s body back to DeeAnn.  “Death does not always come quite as swiftly as you may think.”

“How much longer are cells usable?” Borger asked.

“Not long, but long enough that your world might see it as bringing someone back from death.  In reality, the body had not fully died yet.”

Palin turned to the medic who looked back and nodded.  “It seems your gorilla will live.”

DeeAnn inhaled, placing her hands over her open mouth.  “Oh, thank God.  Will she…remember?”

“Her cells will remember.”  Palin nodded.  “Perhaps you would like to stay here while we check on Mr. Caesare.”

“Yes, I would.”

Moments later, Palin led the other three to another nearby room where they found Caesare reclining on a similar table.  His shirt was off with each of his wounds covered in clean patches.  A different, smallish device was pulled in close to his abdomen, shining a bright light on one of the patches.

He smiled with only a trace of pain when they entered.  “What took you so long?”

“We were filling out medical forms.”

Caesare grimaced.  “How’s Dulce?”

“Palin says she’s going to make it.”

“Good.”  He grinned at Clay.  “I guess you figured out that silver block after all.”

“Actually, you did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were right, Steve.  I wasn’t supposed to figure it out.  I realized it might simply be a life saving device.  Which means it’s not supposed to be activated manually.  After all, once paired with a person, that person probably wouldn’t be conscious when it was really needed.”

“So, it would know what to do.  All by itself.”

Palin looked at them curiously.  “So tell me, Mr. Clay, what were you doing in a burning jungle?”

Clay explained the story, describing the remarkable biological discovery in Guyana and the Chinese warship that absconded with it.  He also explained the attack on the Bowditch that allowed the warship to flee, even at the risk of creating a major geopolitical event.  If Palin was surprised at Clay’s story, he didn’t show it.  Instead, he listened thoughtfully as Clay spoke.  When he was finished, Palin shook his head.

“There is great danger in your discovery.”

There was a brief silence as Clay and Caesare looked at each other.  An anxious Borger interrupted by extending his hand.  “Mr. Palin, my name is Will Borger.”

Palin smiled and took his hand.  “We know who you are, Mr. Borger.  We are grateful for the help you provided to Mr. Clay and Mr. Caesare.  The pleasure is mine.”

Caught a little off guard, Borger took a deep breath.  “I…uh, have a lot of questions.  Like how your portal works?  What’s the unknown element inside the silver cubes?  And what are these cellular frequencies that you’re using for healing?  There’s just so much-”

Palin raised his hand and stopped Borger.  “Mr. Borger, we come from the same carbon based origins.  Given the common patterns of carbon evolution, we are more similar than you know.  We both have humanoid brains, and we both are creatures of tools and knowledge.  And our thirst for knowledge is constant.”  He nodded to Clay.  “Mr. Clay also had many questions the last time we spoke.”

Clay frowned at Borger.  “You’re not going to like his answer, Will.”

“And what was my answer, John Clay?”

“You said it was unwise for a race to gain knowledge too quickly.”

“You remember well,” Palin replied.  “But do you understand?”

“I understand.  But I’m not sure I agree.”

Palin sighed.  “My answer was not an attempt to be evasive or trite.  It was not to keep you from achievement.  It’s a truth of being human.  We long to know answers, even when we lack the capability to bear those answers.  Knowledge is only as safe as our wisdom.  My people are no different.  Further along, perhaps, but not so different fundamentally.  Consider advancements in your own history and within your own skills of ingenuity.  Things like gunpowder, or fission, or chemical weapons.  These discoveries were borne from advancement, yet they radically changed the course of your planet’s history.  They eventually became tools of unimaginable power.”

“But they also brought about good things.”

“That is true,” Palin wore a knowing frown.  “But which outweighs the other, the good or the bad?  Our histories have many similarities.  The circumstances are different, but the lessons are the same.  It took a cataclysmic event and the near extinction of our people to finally rise above our differences.  To understand that true wisdom is not about being right, it’s about the unintended consequences of our decisions.”  He paused, watching Borger.  “You know that portals are possible now, even practical.  And you will one day discover the element we use to create them.  But with them comes the ability to harness unimaginable levels of energy.  How well do you believe your people would handle a true leap in knowledge, given their current use of fission and fusion devices?  How well would they manage frequencies that can harm as well as heal?  Mr. Borger, ingenuity is the ultimate gift of humankind.  And conquest is the ultimate curse.  They cannot be separated.  Not yet.  Not until you face the gravest threat to your planet’s existence.  Until you face mortality as a species, not as individual groups.  Only then can you glimpse true wisdom.”

The room fell silent, and Palin watched Will Borger lower his gaze to the floor before he continued.  “We came to your planet to save ourselves.  It was a journey fraught with problems and danger.  We came for the only resource that could save us: water, a resource that you have in abundance beyond your own comprehension.  Water is not rare in the universe, but a planet covered in so much water is exceptionally rare.  And you don’t have the wisdom yet to even appreciate what you have.  But it will come.  It will come because your water is highly visible.  If we can see it, so can others.  Your water makes your planet Earth a beacon to all who can see you.”

Clay’s eyes narrowed.  “How many others?”

“More than you have dreamed.  I pray that your race matures faster than ours did.”

“Wait,” Alison spoke up.  “Isn’t that even more reason to share your knowledge with us?”

“You are wiser than most, Alison Shaw.  But wisdom on a global level takes a very long time.  You and your team have achieved a giant step forward for your people.  You have broken the barrier of communication that has kept you isolated for so very long.  You have regained an ability you once had natively, but have since lost.  Your breakthrough may prove to be the most important turning point for your race in understanding the world around you.  An understanding that will reveal your world as more than just a planet of resources.  Life is not simply a matter of breathing or thinking.  Life is connectedness on a planetary scale.”

Alison stared at Palin, shocked and suddenly dumbfounded.  “Oh my gosh!”

Clay and the others turned to her.  “What?”

“That’s what it is,” she murmured, almost to herself.  “That’s what it is!  It was staring me right in the face this whole time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see?”  She looked back and forth at them, excitedly.  “That’s what Sally was telling me!  She said they were ‘happy to talk’ again!  I never understood what she meant.  I thought it was just a translation issue, but it wasn’t.  She knew!  Sally and Dirk knew that we used to be able to communicate before!  And now, with the IMIS system, we aren’t communicating with dolphins for the first time, we’re communicating with them AGAIN!”

From the table, Caesare’s eyes opened wide.  “Whoa!”

“It’s true!” Alison cried.  “And Dulce proved it.”  She grabbed Clay’s arm.  “I haven’t told you about what we discovered about the errors in IMIS!  Lee found out that they weren’t errors at all.  They were real translations happening beyond human speech.  On a level that we don’t understand, but Dulce does!  And IMIS has picked up on it!”  Alison whipped back to Palin.  “That’s what you’re talking about!”

Palin smiled.  “Because of you, Alison Shaw, your world will someday become one again.  A lesson that my people wished we had learned much sooner.”

66

The front wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, looking out from within the orange-red stone.  The room was larger, cut from the face of towering cliffs that traveled as far as they could see.

Clay stared outward through what he had assumed were giant, clear panes of glass, but after closer inspection, he realized there was no glass.  The clear wall between them and the outside world was simply air.  And beyond it, a small blue ocean stretched out before them.

“Is this all of it?” Clay asked.

“Yes.  For now.  The impact that devastated our planet was almost inconceivable.  It killed most of our people and the majority of our planet’s other inhabitants.  Our two largest oceans were vaporized from a force great enough to send most of it out into space.”

“You mean you’ll never get it back?”

“We will in time.  Most of our oceans are now in the form of ice crystals floating outside our atmosphere.  With each year, as we pass through the clouds, the gravity of our planet attracts a little at a time, causing it to thaw and fall back to the surface.  It’s how water originally arrived on our planet, but it will take a great many years to regain it all.  In the meantime, the water we now have, thanks to you, is enough to begin the reconstruction of our complex ecosystems.  We have a long road ahead of us.”

Clay started to reply but stopped when a woman walked into the room behind them.  She was tall with blonde hair flowing far past her shoulders.  He had met her once before.

Laana moved with a grace that made her appear to be gliding across the floor with her long blue dress trailing behind.  She smiled kindly at the four of them as Palin nodded and stepped back.

“Welcome,” she said, in a smooth voice.  “And hello again, Mr. Clay.”

“Laana,” Clay nodded respectfully, still unsure what her title or position was.

Alison watched the beautiful woman look over them and was sure she noticed a twinkle in Laana’s eyes upon studying her and Clay.

Laana examined Caesare’s side which was now covered with bandages and clothing.  “How are we feeling, Mr. Caesare?”

Caesare’s looked surprised.  “I’m well, thank you.”

“We’re surprised to see you again,” she said, returning her eyes to Clay.  “However, we are pleased with your decision.”

“It didn’t feel like much of a decision at the time.”

“Which means it was the right one.”  She turned and looked out over the glistening water.  A deep red from their large sun reflected off the surface.  “I see Palin has been giving you a tour.”  She waved one of her arms outward.  “This is our planet’s last city.  Protected deep within the rock of these great cliffs.”  Laana gazed out over the picturesque horizon.  “Great battles were once fought here, many years ago.  It has an important place in our history, though not as important as now.  It will forever be sacred and known as the city that saved the last of our race.  And the place where your water saved more than just a race, it saved an entire planet.”

Laana turned back.  “Thanks to you, we are growing again.  Slowly, but growing.”

“Palin told us you would get your water back eventually,” Alison said.

“Yes, in time.  Until then, we are learning patience on a scale we would never have imagined before.”  Laana’s voice promptly took an upbeat tone as she studied one of the cliffs in the distance.  “Not far from that spot is where we launched our ship to travel to your planet.  It took several years.  Of course, Palin and I were much younger then.  It was a very frightening time.”  She took a deep breath and exhaled.  “We owe you so much.”

“Eh…”  Caesare grinned broadly.  “We know you’re good for it.”

Laana looked at him curiously then laughed.  “We are thankful for your courage and hope that someday we can repay it.”

Alison was still smiling from Caesare’s joke.  “Well, let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

Laana nodded and peered past them.  DeeAnn entered the room, escorted by a medic.  Dulce lay unconscious in her arms, heavily bandaged.

“How is she?” Caesare asked, as DeeAnn approached.

“Good.  She’ll sleep for a few days, but she’ll be okay.”

More footsteps were heard as Will Borger entered the room.  Next to him walked one of Palin’s men, an engineer whom Palin had summoned.  He had been working with Borger for the last hour to analyze a sample of soil Borger had collected immediately upon landing in the helicopter.

Borger was beaming.  “She was right.  Commander Lawton was right about the soil.”

“What did you find out?” asked Clay.

“Actually, she was more right than she knew.  The Commander suspected there could be something in the soil, which is why she asked me to get a sample from near the fire.”

“What is it about the soil?”

Borger nodded.  “It’s not the soil itself.  It’s what is in the soil.”  He stared at the others, as if waiting for them to guess.  When they didn’t, he blurted out, “It’s the water!”

“Water?”

“Yep.  There’s an enzyme in the water that neither of us has ever seen before.  And it looks like that may be what is creating the special DNA mutations in the plants!”

Clay raised an eyebrow.  “What kind of enzyme?”

“I’m not sure, but it looks synthetic.  And it’s glowing.”

“Any idea where it’s coming from?”

“Nope.  But thanks to our friends,” Borger said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small instrument, “we now have something to use to find the source.”

Clay looked at Palin.  “I suppose that’s our cue.”

“It appears so,” he replied.  “Your portal won’t remain open much longer anyway.”

Laana and Palin escorted them back through several rooms to the main area where the portal was still shimmering.  One by one, they thanked Laana and Palin and stepped back through the black oval.

Clay turned to leave last when Palin stopped him.  “John Clay.”

Clay stared back, awash in the bright blue outline of the portal.  “Yes?”

Palin stepped forward.  “I don’t know what your search will reveal or what knowledge you may glean.  But remember, great knowledge requires great wisdom.  Beware of the leap.”

67

The humidity and smoke overwhelmed them immediately.  Coupled with the heat, it felt as though they had walked back into a damp furnace.  Some smoke had dissipated, allowing them to breathe a little easier.  However, much of the mountainside was still obscured.

Clay coughed and looked at Borger.  “Okay, Will, where to?”

Borger looked around.  If it was the water they were after, there was only one logical direction: uphill.  He peered over a slow moving bank of smoke to the top of the mountain.  There was a small cliff where part of the peak had long since eroded and fallen away.  Under the afternoon sun, it resembled a half dome with its one side sheared off.

Clay stopped them before they started up the embankment.  “We need to get Dulce someplace where she can rest.”

“Agreed,” replied Caesare.  “You three go ahead.  I’ll take them.”

“Where are you going?”

Caesare coughed then smiled devilishly.  “I have an expensive and rather comfortable helicopter they can stay in.”

Clay nodded and began trudging up the rocky hill with Alison and Borger.

They stopped periodically for Borger to sink the instrument into the soil and wait for a readout.  As he suspected, the frequency of enzymes in the water decreased as they moved to either side of the incline but increased as they climbed higher.  The source was above them.

The enzyme concentrations increased rapidly as they neared the top and the half dome-shaped wall.  And once they reached the base of the cliff, the measurements went through the roof.

“Wow!” Borger shouted.  He looked up at the sheer rock before him, rising almost eighty feet over his head.  There was a thin streak of water running down the face.  Clay and Alison watched as Borger stood up and placed the instrument against the trickling stream of water.

The display on the instrument went to zero.  Borger tried again in another spot.  Still nothing.

“That’s weird.  The enzyme count just disappeared.”

Alison peeked over his shoulder.  “How could it disappear?  It’s the same water.”

Borger traced the stream down to the ground with his finger.  “It is the same water.”   He raised the sensor up again and placed its metal spike against the water one more time.  “What happened to it?”

“Maybe there’s another stream.”

They spread out and looked for more running water.

“Here’s one.”

Borger ran over to Alison and measured it in multiple spots.  Nothing.  They found two more streams but no enzymes.

“I don’t understand.”  Borger stepped back and looked to the top of the rock wall.

Clay moved behind them, studying the rock face.  It seemed unusually smooth, as did the rock on which they were standing.  He followed the original streak of water all the way down, from the top of the wall to the bottom of the hard, gray speckled stone beneath their feet.

Then it hit him.

Clay moved in closer again and examined the bottom of the cliff.  “It’s not coming from the top,” he said, looking at both of them.  “It’s coming from inside the rock.”

The two ran over to the base of the rock, where Clay was watching the water trickle down over the tip of his black boot.  Borger measured to the right and left, finding strong signals on both sides.

“You’re right.  There’s gotta be something inside.”

Clay took a small step back and studied the face again.  He repeatedly looked to the right then back to the left.  There was something very different about the face directly above them.

“I’m no expert, but does this section look different to you two?”

Alison and Borger stepped back with him and stared at it.  “It looks flatter.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Look at that.”  Clay pointed to a tiny indentation in the stone that ran straight up the face.  There was another on the other side of the water.  He stepped back further and examined the stone beneath their feet.  “And does this rock look unusually level to you?”

“It does.”

Clay walked forward again and touched the cliff face with his hand.  “There’s something on the other side of this.”

68

The strips of interior lights came on automatically, and everyone in the cabin instinctively looked up.  The sun was nearly past the horizon and evening was setting in.  With all the windows and vents closed, very little of the smoke got inside the immaculate cabin. The helicopter’s auxiliary system powered everything except the air conditioning, making the inside more than comfortable if only a bit warm.

With his pack on the floor and leaning against the table, Borger focused intently on his laptop screen.  From behind him, Clay looked on over his shoulder.  In the back of the cabin, Alison and DeeAnn foraged through the small kitchen and found enough food for several meals.  Or at least several salads.

“Man, this guy wasn’t a health nut…he was a health freak.”

“You have no idea.”  DeeAnn glanced out at Dulce, still lying comfortably on one of the soft leather seats next to a dozing Steve Caesare.  The thought that Alves’ body was laying somewhere outside gave her the creeps.

A few minutes later, the two women brought the food out and set it down, just on the other side of Borger’s computer.  On the screen, both men studied a still frame satellite image of the mountain.  They were zoomed in on the cliff.

Borger tapped one of his keys and the image slowly rotated.  “Not much to see from the air.”

“No, there isn’t.”  Clay tilted his head at the picture.  “We can’t see the cliff face.”

“And there’s nothing noticeable on the back side either.”

Clay straightened back up and folded his arms.  It had taken them the remainder of the afternoon to hike around the back slope of the mountain, and they had found nothing.  Nor did using Borger’s instrument help them find any trace of the synthetic enzyme.  Whatever was coming out of that rock was coming out from within the cliff face.

He sighed and took a break, thanking Alison when she handed him a bowl of salad with a few pieces of salmon on top.  He took a bite and leaned back onto the arm of one of the seats behind him, thinking.  If this mysterious enzyme was the true source behind the giant plants and their special replicating abilities, then the Chinese had jumped the gun.  They had something truly amazing, but it may not be the source they believed it to be.  And if the plants were that valuable, he wondered what the enzyme itself was capable of.

***

Clay’s eyes opened in the darkness to find Borger shaking him by the arm.  The lights in the cabin were out, leaving only the glow of Borger’s laptop to illuminate the white seats nearest the table.

“Clay!” Borger whispered.  “You awake?”

He blinked his eyes and forced them open.  “Yes.  What is it?”

“Come here!”

Clay pushed himself quietly out of the chair, careful not to wake Alison who was reclining next to him.  He followed Borger back to the computer and squinted at the bright screen.  He was still displaying the aerial view of the mountain.

Borger sat down in front of him.  “I think I found something.  This is the picture we were looking at earlier, right?”

“Right.”

Borger nodded.  “Okay, do you see anything different?”

Clay squinted closer at the screen.  “No.”

“That’s correct.”  Borger looked back over his shoulder amusedly and whispered.  “Sorry, that was a trick question.  Look at the picture again and tell me if you see any trees or plants around the cliff base.”

“Nope.”

“Exactly.  Strange don’t you think?”

“Yes.  It is.”

“See, I got to thinking…if whatever is in this water can make those plants grow like that, then why isn’t anything growing closer to the rock face?  You’d think everything would be a hundred feet tall, right?”

Clay looked curiously down at Borger.  “Right.  Maybe the terrain is too rocky.”

“I thought about that.”  Borger’s whispering was getting louder.  “But how rocky would it need to be for something not to grow with this water?!  I mean, geez, it would probably have to be molten lava or something.”  Borger turned back around to Clay.  “But what if…nothing was supposed to grow there?!”

Clay eyed Borger and looked back to the screen.  “You mean, as in, by design.”

“Right.  Remember how flat the base is, and those lines you saw going straight up the rock.  On top of that, we have something coming out of the rock that we’ve never seen before.  Now we have an area in front of it where nothing grows.  Not even with this super water.  Don’t you think those are a lot of coincidences?”

“It’s artificial.”  Clay finished Borger’s thought.

“Exactly!  And here’s the biggest clue of all.  I kept thinking, ‘why isn’t anything growing there?  Why are there only rocks?’”

Clay suddenly grabbed Borger’s shoulder.  “The rocks!”

“The rocks!” Borger nodded.  He zoomed the picture in and leaned back out of Clay’s way.  “Now look at the picture and ignore the top of the mountain and the cliff.  Look just at the rocks, and bear in mind they look like rocks on the screen, but they’re actually boulders.”

Clay studied the screen for several seconds.  “Are those…shapes?”

“It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?”  Borger began typing.  “Now look what happens when I invert the color in the picture.”

The picture color instantly switched.  The areas that were dark now appeared in shades of white.  And the light areas, including the rocks, appeared black.

Clay immediately shot a look at Borger.  “Those are definitely shapes!”

“I think those giant boulders on the ground were ‘arranged.’”

Clay remained quiet, studying the black shapes.  They were hard to identify, but the curves and angles were unmistakable.  The boulder groupings also appeared to be laid out in three separate places, together forming a perfect triangle near the base of the cliff.

“I think they might be hieroglyphs,” Borger whispered.

“I’ve never seen hieroglyphs like that,” commented a female voice.

Borger jumped in his seat, and both men spun around to see Alison standing behind them in the dark.

“Geez, Alison!  You scared the crap out of me!”

He hadn’t jumped, but Clay was grinning at her.  “That was impressive.”

Alison shrugged, playfully.

They turned back to Borger’s glowing screen.  “Do you know a lot about hieroglyphs?” Clay asked.

“Not really.  I took some courses in college,” she said quietly.  “But I’ve never seen anything quite like those.”  She leaned in between the two men.  “Hmm.”

“What?”

“There may be some similarities to the Mayan stuff.  But I can’t be sure.  It’s been a long time.”

“What about Egyptian hieroglyphs?”

Alison shook her head.  “No.  Those look very different.  Egyptian’s wrote in long lines of script.  These are more like the picture blocks used in the Central Americas.”

“Do you think they can be translated?”

Alison thought about the question and shook her head again.  “I have no idea.  Maybe if other drawings have been documented somewhere else, but that’s a long shot.  Even the Rosetta Stone, which contained detailed one-to-one translations, took years.  Here, we only have three pictograms to go on.  And that’s not enough.”

Borger slouched back in the chair, folding his arms in frustration.

“Or…”

Alison and Borger looked at Clay.  “Or what?”

“Or we try something else.”  Clay turned and grinned at them.  “It just so happens, I know a beautiful woman who has a hell of a computer system, designed specifically for translating languages.”

69

The giant Pathfinder ship rocked gently over the ripples rolling across the western Caribbean.  The white hulled ship was anchored less than a mile from Georgetown.  Overhead, the dark sky was filled with bright stars from both the northern and southern hemispheres, complimented by a faint sliver of moon.  Aside from the watch crew, there was virtually no movement or sound to be heard.  It made the hand that shook Lee Kenwood awake even more startling.

Lee jumped in his bed and peered up into the darkness at the outline of Captain Emerson.

“Mr. Kenwood,” he whispered, careful not to wake Chris Ramirez in a nearby bunk.

Lee rubbed his eyes and squinted.  “Captain Emerson?”

“Come with me.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to come with me, son.  You have a phone call.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”  His silhouette stood up straight.  “Please hurry.”

Lee scrambled out of his bunk and followed him outside in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.  They passed through three different metal doors before emerging into the warm Caribbean air.  Emerson stopped and turned to face Lee, handing him a phone.

He fumbled for a moment but managed to get it to his ear.  “Hello?”

“Lee, it’s Alison.”

“Ali?  Where are you?  What time is it?”

“Never mind.  Listen, I need to ask you something important about IMIS.”

“What is it?”

“How hard would it be to translate one written language to another?”

Lee looked confused.  “For IMIS?  It would be a piece of cake.”

“What about an old language?  And I mean really old, as in ancient?”

“Uh, I don’t know.  I guess it would depend on what it was.  You mean like Latin or something?”

“I mean hieroglyphs.”

Lee raised his head, surprised.  Captain Emerson stood next to him, still watching.  “Hieroglyphs?  You mean as in Egyptian?”

“More like Mayan.”

Lee scratched the back of his scalp, thinking.  “Yeah, I think we could.  We’d have to feed in a lot of data and do some programming, but yeah, we could do it.”

“How long would that take?”

“For the data?  Not long.  It would take me some time to program though.  Then there’s testing and debugging.  Probably a few weeks.”

“How about a few hours?”

“What?!”

“We need to do it in a few hours.”

“Are you kidding?!”

On the other end of the phone, Alison glanced at Clay.  They knew it was only a matter of time before one or more of the nearby countries responded to the fire.  And according to Clay, Admiral Langford was trying to delay that, but his misdirection would only last so long.  “No, Lee, I’m not kidding.”

Lee exhaled and ran a hand through his messy hair.  “I don’t think we can make it, Ali.  Even if I can do some quick and dirty programming, with no testing or debugging, we have no way to manually feed any existing data into IMIS.  I wouldn’t be able to do it fast enough from this ship.”

“Okay,” she replied grimly.  “Hold on.”

Alison covered the microphone and looked at Clay.  “Lee thinks it’s possible, but not without someone on the ground.  Which, we don’t have.”

Clay and Borger frowned in unison.

“Oh, I believe we do.”  Caesare was awake and delicately eased his seat up from a reclining position.  With a grin, he stood up and came into the light.

“You believe we do what?”

“I believe we have someone on the ground.”

***

The single bed was small, even for him.  But he didn’t mind.  Truth be told, he actually relished it, especially right now.  He hadn’t slept all night and he was beginning to lose feeling in his left arm, but Juan Diaz didn’t care.  Instead, he stared down lovingly at the sleeping face of his six-year-old sister.

Her little face, with olive skin and dark eyelashes, looked almost angelic as she breathed quietly beside him.  It wasn’t his idea, but she begged him to stay with her.  Diaz had arrived home less than twelve hours ago and headed directly to his parents’ house.  Angelina was thrilled to see her big brother and immediately ran into his arms.  If he didn’t know better, he would have suspected she somehow knew just how close he had come to death in Brazil.  After that, all he wanted to do was to see his family.

Diaz suddenly raised his head when he heard his cell phone ring in the living room.  In one controlled fluid movement, he quickly slid off the side of Angelina’s bed and loped lightly down the hall.

He held the phone up in the darkness and peered at the number.  He didn’t recognize it.  With a low voice, he accepted the call.  “Hello?”

“Juan!  It’s Alison!”

“Ali?”

“Juan, where are you?”

“I’m home. At my parents’ house.  Where are you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.  But we have an emergency and we need your help!”

“Sure, Ali.  Anything.”

“Good.  Listen carefully.”

***

The 1970s style gray building was three stories high with an unusually long overhang above the main entrance.  The double automatic doors were locked, and the only visible light was glowing from a few small fixtures left on throughout the night for maintenance purposes.

The University of Puerto Rico was founded in 1900 as the first higher education center on the island.  It had since grown to become the best University system throughout the Caribbean.  But at four in the morning, most of those University buildings were closed.  The three-story Mayagüez Campus Library was no exception.

What was an exception was that for the first time in twenty-three years, Superintendent Jose Mignucci had been awoken in the middle of the night and by the governor of Puerto Rico himself.  Fifteen minutes later, Mignucci stood in front of the library building, waiting patiently and wondering what the hell it was all about.

In the distance, a single pair of headlights turned onto the main street, which wound around the vast lawn and eventually passed the library on its way to the campus admissions building.  The revving of the car’s engine could be easily heard as it sped around the gradual curve and braked hard upon approach to the intersection.  With a hard right turn, the small Toyota squealed around and up the driveway toward the library where it finally skidded to a stop.

Mignucci watched with curiosity as a man jumped from the driver’s seat and sprinted up the long walkway toward him.

“Good morning.”  Mignucci greeted the man with a dose of sarcasm.

Juan Diaz waved briefly and bent over to catch his breath.  “Morning!”

Mignucci calmly spun around and inserted his key into the lock.  With a quick turn, the bolt within the steel frame dropped, allowing him to manually pull one side open.  He held it open and waved Diaz in.

Juan spotted the library’s directory computer and ran to it while Mignucci turned on all of the interior lights.  Juan barely noticed when the entire floor lit up behind him.  Instead, he scanned the screen, found the search option and typed in “archeology and hieroglyphs.”  The result listed dozens of books.  He printed the list and took off again, this time up the wide carpeted stairs heading for the second floor.

Thirty-five minutes later, Diaz burst through the administration office of their team’s research lab across town, struggling under an armful of heavy books.  He crossed the room and dropped them onto the long wooden table next to their digital scanner.  He quickly picked up the nearest book and flipped through the pages as if pretending to speed-read.  He immediately stopped when he spotted the first page of pictograms, along with their translations.

Diaz turned it over and pressed the book down flat against the scanner’s clear glass, then hit the large green “scan” button.  After the machine saved the image into memory.  Diaz picked the book up again and continued flipping through.

***

There were several open-source computer code algorithms commonly used for telling a computer how to distinguish between pictures and text on the same piece of paper.  But none of them were working.  Lee Kenwood growled in frustration, looking for the error in his code.  After changing some syntax, he clicked the “compile” button on his screen and waited for the result.  Another error.

Damn it, what am I missing? He pounded on the table and opened up his coding window again.  Finding the line causing the problem, he made another change.  Still no dice.

“Come on!”  He slapped the metal desk next to him with his palm and the pain instantly reminded him why that was a bad idea.  Lee rubbed it and leaned closer to his screen, examining the list of variables he had added.   He made another change and saved it, then clicked “compile” again.

This time there were no errors.

Lee thrust a fist in the air.  “Yes!”  He quickly scanned the local data repository and found the hundreds of graphic files Juan had uploaded.  Now done with the books, Juan had already begun adding website links to the list.  All were resources that IMIS would use to find patterns and cross reference against one another and lastly against the satellite image that Will Borger had sent them.

Taking a deep breath and with fingers crossed, Lee uploaded his computer code into IMIS’ server cluster and launched it.

***

Alison was still sitting in front of Borger’s laptop three hours later, studying the rock shapes in the image.  She glanced up when she heard rain begin to fall onto the roof of the helicopter’s cabin.  It started slow, quickly increasing until it became a veritable downpour. She moved to the window but couldn’t see the men outside.

Clay, Caesare, and Borger were over a half mile away, surveying the ongoing fire as dawn broke over the distant mountains.  Fortunately, the dampness of the jungle had finally won out over the raging flames.  Now, rather than expanding, the ring of fire was quickly fizzling out.  The rain was the final straw.

They were soaked by the time the three made it back to Alves’ giant helicopter, and the sun had already risen whole into the morning sky.  DeeAnn was still asleep with one hand wrapped tenderly around Dulce’s curved back.  The men passed by them quietly and surrounded the nearby table where Alison sat.

“How’s the brushing up going?” Clay whispered.

“Okay.”  She leaned back and briefly rubbed her eyes.  “I wish I could talk to one of my professors.”

“Find anything out?”

“The shapes definitely share some characteristics with Mayan pictograms, maybe even Olmec.  But there are only three symbols, which isn’t much to go on.  It would be nice if we knew how old they were.”  She pointed to one of the three.  “This one is most similar to a Mayan bird.  And this other one is clearly a circle with inward facing arrows, but I have no idea what it means.  I haven’t found anything even remotely similar.  And the third shape is anyone’s guess.”

“So we don’t know if it’s Mayan or not.”

Alison didn’t answer.

“Ali?”

She looked up at them reluctantly and then exhaled.  “It’s hard to say.  Without knowing their age…”  She paused.  “The Mayan’s were amazing.  They knew some things that are beyond current explanation.  For example, they calculated the length of a day down to two one-thousandths of what our modern atomic clocks calculate it to be.  And that was two thousand years ago.  Their understanding of astronomy and mathematics were…well, inexplicable.  The problem is…they didn’t come this far south.”  She crossed her arms.  With a look of frustration, she began to say something but stopped.

“What is it?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but if these shapes are old enough, they may not have been influenced by the Mayan or the Olmec languages at all.  Instead, those languages may have been influenced by this.”

“Whoa,” said Caesare.  “That’s heavy.”

The buzzing of Clay’s phone interrupted them.  He quickly fished it out of his pocket.  He examined the number and handed it down at Alison.  “It’s Lee.”

She accepted the call and held it to her ear.  “Hi, Lee.”

“Hey, Ali,” he replied.  “I think I have something for you.  IMIS thinks it has translations for two of the symbols.”

“Two?”

He shrugged.  “It seems to think so.  Are you ready?”

Alison glanced at the three men surrounding her.  “Go ahead.”

“IMIS believes the middle shape, the one that looks like a bird, means ‘large’ or ‘strong.’  The one below it, and more to the right, means ‘weak.’”

Alison jotted it down.  “Large and strong…and weak.  Is that it?  Nothing on the third one?”

“No, nothing on the circle.”

“Any idea as to accuracy?”

“Fifty-four and fifty-eight percent.  So not great.”

Alison nodded.  “Okay.  Thanks, Lee.  Keep us posted.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and Lee,” Alison stopped him before he hung up.

“Yeah?”

“Great work!”

He chuckled.  “Thanks, Ali.  We’ll see.”

She hung up and handed the phone back to Clay.

“So strong and weak?” said Borger.

“Yeah.  But Lee said the accuracy is barely above fifty percent.  I’m not sure how much better off we are.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

She nodded in agreement and continued staring at the screen.

“Maybe there’s some meaning in the triangle itself.  Maybe it points to something.”  Borger reached over Alison’s shoulder and zoomed out.  “Then again, maybe not.  Looks like three directions that just point away from the cliff.”

Clay stood behind Alison, transfixed on the screen.  “If we assume IMIS is wrong about the shapes, then we have nothing.  So let’s assume it’s right.  Which gives us what?”

“A triangle, three symbols, three possible points of direction, and two words; strong and weak.”

“And,” Alison thought out loud, “if the shapes have single word definitions, then we’re not looking for a sentence.  We’re looking for some kind of relationship between all three.”

“Maybe there’s a mathematical significance to the number three.”

“Prime number?”

“There are a lot of prime numbers.  Why not two or five?”

Clay kept staring at the third shape on the screen.  The circle with inward pointing arrows.  Strong and weak.  Strong and weak.  And a circle.  Circle with something traveling inward.  Traveling inward.  Traveling inward.  Coming inward in all directions.  But what?  And from where?

Caesare thought about it tactically.  “You said those were boulders, right?”

“Right.”

“Big boulders?”

“Yes.”

“That means if you were standing next to them and looking horizontally, you probably couldn’t tell what they were.”

“That’s right,” Borger said.

“So you could only see the shapes if you were at the top of the cliff, looking down.  From high ground.”

“That is true!”

“Or from the air,” reminded Alison.

Suddenly Clay turned.   “That’s it!”

“What?”

“From the air!  You can see these from the air, or the sky.”  He turned to Borger.  “Or from space!”

“Right.  But then what does the triangle mean?”

Clay’s eyes lit up.  He began searching for something then spotted a piece of paper sticking out of Borger’s pack.  He grabbed the paper and unfolded it, laying it on the table.  “I need a pen.”

“Here.”  Borger dug deeper into his bag and pulled one out.

Clay grabbed the pen and brushed the wrinkled paper out straight.  He then scribbled the three symbols in the same formation: one to the left and the others to the right, with one above the other.  He leaned on the table and looked at the others.  “What if there is no triangle?”  He paused.  “What if it’s not even three?!”

“I’m not following.”

“Think about it.  What are we missing?”

They looked at his paper.  Alison saw it first.  “The cliff.  We’re missing the cliff.”

“Exactly.”  Clay reached down and scrawled the cliff to the right of the three symbols.  “It’s not a triangle,” he said, connecting them all with straight lines.  “It’s a square!”

Borger nodded.  “It’s four points, not three.”

“And four meanings.”  Clay wrote the words ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ under two of the symbols.  The other two, the circle and the cliff, remained blank.  “Two out of four.  Strong and weak!”

Borger shook his head.  “Okay.  So what do the other two mean?”

“Four meanings, Will.  Only viewable from space!”  He waited.  Finally, he laughed and slapped Borger on the back.  “Remember your astrophysics, Will!”

It took three seconds before the light went on.  “The Four Forces!”

Alison looked back and forth between them.  “What?  What?!”

Borger jumped back in front of his computer.  “The Four Forces of Nature!  In astrophysics, four primary forces control everything.  A strong force, a weak force, gravity…and electromagnetism.”  He pointed to the third shape.  It was the circle with four arrows pointing inward.  “Gravity!”

“Which means the last one is electromagnetism,” added Caesare.

“So what does that mean?” asked Alison.  “The cliff is electromagnetism?”

“I’ll tell you what it means,” Clay said, leveling his gaze at Caesare.  “It means that cliff face is not a wall.  It’s a door!”

70

DeeAnn awoke to the sound of something breaking.  She checked Dulce, who was still out, and looked around frantically.  The noise was coming from the rear of the cabin.  Both Caesare and Clay were tearing a large cupboard apart.

Caesare cut the power to several power plugs and proceeded to kick holes along the bottom of an interior wall.  He checked to make sure there was no charge before reaching in and yanking out the electrical wiring.  When it got to the end, he gripped the wire tight and gave a giant pull, snapping the other end off inside the wall.

Behind him, Clay removed part of Alves’ specially modified interior power system.  He disconnected a set of thick cables from one of the cabin’s many twelve-volt batteries.  Clay then lifted it out from the bottom of the storage area.

Caesare stepped past him, his eyes fixated on the long-necked sink faucet.  He instantly wrapped his big hand around the top and jerked, snapping it off at the base.

Alison and Borger stood quietly, waiting at the door.

“What’s going on?” DeeAnn asked.

“We’re going back out,” Caesare answered, brushing past her.  “Take care of Dulce. We’ll be right back.”

She blinked, watching them file out of the door, one by one, into the pouring rain.  “Be careful!”

***

Together, they hiked back uphill to the cliff.  Its entire face was now covered in a sheen of water, cascading down from the heavy rainfall.  They approached the area in the rock where the two subtle grooves, almost ten feet apart, traveled together straight up.

Clay dropped the battery and held out the metal faucet pipe from Caesare.  In one hand, Caesare gripped the pipe and one end of the wire together.  With straining muscles, he then wrapped the thick wire around the pipe one pass at a time.  In a few minutes, he had coiled most of the wire around the pipe.  He grabbed the dangling ends, shaping them into hooks.  With that, Caesare reached down and picked up the large battery, hooking the wire ends to the positive and negative battery terminals.

Alison brushed several soaked strands of hair from her eyes.  “What’s that?”

Clay winked.  “An electromagnet.”  He looked at Caesare who nodded, then held the coiled rod up and pressed it against the rock.

Nothing happened.

Clay moved the rod to another place against the rock.  Still nothing.  Section by section, he moved the magnet across the cliff face and touched it to the hard surface.

Clay and Caesare suddenly looked at each other when they heard a heavy “clunk.”  A moment later, the rock began to shake and loose pieces fell away from the vertical grooves above.  With a low, deep rumble, the face began to push outward from between the grooves.

It continued sliding forward until a large black entrance appeared.  All four stood together in the rain…speechless.

Alison shook her head.  “This is definitely not Mayan.”

Clay dropped the magnet and glanced over his shoulder.  He carefully approached the dark entrance.  When he was close enough, he took a single step inside and looked around.

“Whoa!”

71

The other three followed Clay in as a rush of stale air blew past, forced outside by the light breeze behind them.  Inside, the room was large, reaching well above their heads.  Its depth and width quickly disappeared into the darkness.  But they barely noticed the room’s size.  It was the contents that stunned them, leaving their mouths agape.

The room was radiating a bright green glow.  The color looked almost fluorescent.  Yet the most startling of all…were the tubes: rows and rows of thick clear tubes, standing nearly ten feet high.  Hundreds of tubes.  And each was filled with what appeared to be a bright glowing green liquid.

Side by side, all four of them stood in awe, slowly scanning the room.

“Okay,” Caesare murmured.  “This is pretty much the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What in the world is this?” whispered Borger.

They stepped further inside, approaching the closest tube.  Inside, they could see the glowing liquid, swirling around ever so gently.

Clay looked at the smooth stone floor, appearing green from the hue of the tubes.  He brought his right boot forward and gently placed it onto the floor in front of him.  He then raised it up again revealing a deep footprint beneath.

Alison peered down and did the same thing, creating a smaller print in the thick layer of dust.  “This place,” whispered Alison, “is really old.”

“What are these things?”

Clay shook his head at Borger’s question, dumbfounded.

The green ambient glow revealed a stone ceiling several feet above the top of the tubes.  Their clear casing appeared to be thick glass.  When Borger reached out to touch one, a ripple of light burst from the glass, and he drew his hand back quickly.  “Ouch!”

“Is it hot?”

“No, it’s ice cold.”

Clay moved forward and closed in, just a few inches away.  The green glowing fluid was clearly moving.  But there was something inside that the fluid was swirling around.

“There’s something in the middle of this tube.”

The others joined him and peered inside.  “They look like bubbles,” Alison said.  Her voice echoed softly against the thick walls.

“Or tiny spheres.”  Caesare raised his head, following the spiraling strands of spheres to the top of the tube.  “There’s thousands of them.”

Borger stepped away and examined the next closest tube.  “They all have them.”  He looked closer.  “Wait a minute, there’s something inside of the spheres.  It looks like little dots.”

“And different sizes.”  Clay slowly circled around the first column and peered at the strands from the other side.  “Very different sizes.”

Borger looked more closely, staring intently through his eyeglasses.  “You’re right.  Some of these are bigger.”

“What do you think they are?”

Borger looked back at Clay.  “I think they’re seeds.”

***

The four moved deeper toward the back of the room.  Every tube appeared to have strings of spheres wrapped inside, twisting in a way that reminded Clay of a double helix shape.  Although these contained ten or more strands each.  “There are no machines in here,” he remarked to the others.

“I don’t see any either.  Unless they’re behind the walls.”

“I don’t hear anything.  You’d think there would be some kind of sound, even if it were behind a wall.”

Caesare considered it.  “If there are no machines, then where’s the power source?  What’s keeping all of this cold?  And what’s causing the glow?  A chemical reaction?”

“That would last this long?  You’d have to add more chemicals, but these tubes look like they’re sealed on both ends.”

The four fanned out quietly, examining more of the columns.  A few minutes later, Borger called out from the other side of the room.  They ran to find him back near the door in the cliff.

“Look at this!”

They peered down at the floor near his feet and could see a faint jagged etching through the dust, making its way to the door.

“What is it?”

Borger touched his finger to it then raised his hand and sniffed.  “I think it’s water.”

They turned around and traced the tiny stream back to one of the nearby tubes.”

“Is it leaking?!”

Clay crouched down and checked the glass.  “I don’t think so.  In fact,” he stood up, looking all the way to the top, “I don’t think it’s the fluid at all.”  He spotted a tiny flash near the ceiling.  “I think the water found a way inside this cavern, and it’s dripping down this tube and onto the floor; then it trails to the door.”

“I think you’re right.”  Borger careened his neck to the ceiling until he saw the same reflection from a drop of falling water.  “That’s how it’s seeping back outside and changing the soil.”

Both Clay and Borger observed a tiny flash emitted near the top of the tube each time a drop of water hit the glass.

Alison stared through the tube nearest to her.  “So, maybe this glowing liquid is some kind of power source.  Or maybe some kind of nutrient.”

“Or maybe it’s both.”

“Hey,” Caesare called from behind them, “come take a look at this.”

They found him a few aisles over, examining some of the spheres.  “Take a look at these bubbles right here, closest to the edge.  Tell me what they look like to you.”

As soon as they saw what Caesare was pointing at, the others froze.

“Oh my gosh,” Alison whispered.  “Those look like some kind of embryos!”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Instinctively, they all took a step back and scanned the glowing room with a very different expression.  One by one, they backed up, retreating toward the door.  When they reached it, they made sure it was still open and remained near the exit.

“Alison,” Clay spoke softly.  “How old do you think this place is?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just a ballpark.”

She shrugged.  “Well, judging from how worn the boulders are outside and the amount of undisturbed dust inside, I’d say pretty old.  I don’t think this thing has been opened for hundreds of years, maybe thousands.”

“Will and Steve, in your opinion, is there any possibility that something like this could have been made by us?”

Caesare looked at Borger then shook his head.  “Are you kidding?”

Clay nodded pensively.  “So, does anyone believe this place is not storing an extraordinary amount of DNA material?”

“DNA that doesn’t belong to us,” added Caesare.

Borger gasped.  “Holy cow!  It’s another vault!”

“What do you mean ‘another’ vault?”

“I mean the seed vault.  In Norway.  On the island!”  Borger gave them a sarcastic stare when he saw their questioning faces.  “You don’t know about the seed vault?  The Global Seed Vault!  It’s a large complex on a Norwegian island that has been stockpiling copies of seeds for years, from all over the world.”

“Why?”

“To protect them in the event of a major catastrophe.  It’s got something like a hundred thousand different seeds, all from different continents.  The complex was supposedly built to last hundreds of years.”  Borger waved his arms emphatically in front of himself.  “That’s what this is!  It’s another vault!”

“Whose vault?”

Borger turned to Clay.  “Well, clearly not ours.  Someone else.  An alien race.”

“Another alien race?”

“Why not?” Borger asked.  “Remember what Palin said.  The amount of water that Earth has is not common, which makes us stand out to anyone who can see us.  Like a beacon.”

Alison frowned.  “But why would some alien race put copies of their seeds on Earth?”

“The same reason as us,” Borger replied.  “In case of a catastrophe.  But right now, we can’t go very far.  They can.  And if you’re going to locate a seed vault anywhere, I’m guessing you’d want to do it on a planet that you knew could sustain you.”

Everyone turned back to the columns in front of them.

Alison broke the silence with a whisper.  “So what do we do now?”  She looked back and forth between the three men, none of whom answered.  “Guys?”

To her right both Caesare and Borger finally shrugged.  She looked to her left.  “John?

Clay blinked but continued staring, transfixed.

“John?”

Quietly, he inhaled then spoke under his breath without taking his eyes away.  “Beware of the leap.”

“Huh?”

“Beware of the leap,” he repeated, louder.

“What leap?”

“It’s what Palin said to me before we came back through.”

Caesare looked at him curiously.  “What does it mean?”

“We’ve seen what those plants can do.  Which was probably nothing compared to the water itself.”  He turned to the others.  “And that water is only touching the glass in here.  What do you think the solution inside those tubes is capable of?”

No one answered.

“We could be talking about something so far beyond our current abilities and understanding that it would seem like magic.”  Clay scanned the entire room again.  “Commander Lawton was so amazed by the DNA in those plants that she was sure countries would go to war over it.  How far would they go over something like this?”

Caesare squinted at Clay.  “All the way.”

Clay stood thinking.  “You’re right.  So, the question is how many lives is it worth?  A thousand?  A million?”

“There could be a lot of good,” Borger offered.

“Would it be worth it, Will?”

Borger shrugged.

“Would those who died still think it was worth it?”  Clay sighed.  “A lot of advancements are vindicated as the cost of progress.  But it’s an easy question when you’re only asking the survivors, isn’t it?”

They continued to watch Clay, each of them silently thinking.

“Who knows what would be unleashed from these things.  Or from the DNA they’re protecting.”

“It’s a sleeping giant,” said Caesare.

Clay looked at them, gravely.  “Who thinks we should find out?”

When no one raised their hand, he looked back up at the nearest tube.  The glowing green mixture struck him as having an odd beauty about it.  In the end, Palin had tried to warn them about what they might find.  About wisdom.  How often did humans really learn?  What about governments?

“So what do we do?” asked Alison.  “It won’t be long before people start showing up.”

Clay’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.  “I say we leave it alone.”

“Someone else will find it, John.”

“Not if we bury it.”

Caesare raised an eyebrow.  “Bury it?  Bury it with what?”

Clay turned and peered outside.  The rain was still pouring.  “Didn’t our Chinese friends leave some bulldozers behind?”

Caesare stared at him.  “John, we can’t bury the whole damn cliff.”

“We don’t have to,” he replied with eyes still fixed outside.  “We only need to bury the sign posts.  Or better yet, remove the boulders.”

“Then how will whoever put it here find it, assuming they ever come back for it?”

Clay frowned.  “If we don’t hide it, there might not be anything for them to come back for.”

72

It didn’t take long.  Two of the earth movers were still operational.  Moving only a few pieces from each of the three boulder groups, their shapes appeared as random as any of the others.

After redirecting the water leak, and with another press of their makeshift magnet against the wall, the heavy door clicked and slid smoothly back into place.  The vertical seams appeared to change very little, with only small jagged pieces missing from the separation.  Ironically, it made the cliff face look more natural than it had before.

When the four returned to the helicopter, they were soaking wet.  They smiled when they stepped inside to find Dulce awake, lying against DeeAnn.  Even as tired as the small gorilla was, her warm eyes managed to open wider when she spotted Caesare.

No one said anything.  From the chair, DeeAnn observed the faces of the others and decided she didn’t want to know what they’d been doing outside.  She just wanted to leave.

She had been through hell.  But she still had Dulce.  And she and Juan were both alive.  It was more than enough for her.  Now she just wanted to go home.

She watched Borger sit down in front of his laptop.  Clay followed and stood behind him.  After a few minutes, Borger leaned back, sharing the screen with him.

“I’d say it’s pretty unrecognizable.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Alison and Caesare came over to take a look and nodded in agreement.

Caesare looked at his watch.  “Who wants to get out of here?  We should still have enough fuel to make it down the other side of the mountain to Georgetown.”

Clay motioned outside.  “Good, I’ll follow you down.  I need to return the other one.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Clay smiled at Alison.  “How could I give up my favorite copilot?”

Borger was fast at work on the last piece.  He was getting into the system and removing the video data recorded from the ARGUS satellite.  He wouldn’t remove everything, just the data covering the top of the mountain back to the satellite’s launch date.  In fact, he wouldn’t even delete it.  The NSA, not surprisingly, kept copious backups of their data.  Instead of deleting the files, he would corrupt them and leave them in place.  With a little extra help from Borger, the corrupted versions of those files would soon replace all of those in the backups, leaving only unusable files in the NSA’s repository.  Hopefully, by the time they realized the problem, it would be too late.  And Borger would remove all traces as to who did it.

With any luck, the distraction over the sinking of the Bowditch would give him enough time to finish.

Less than fifteen minutes later, both helicopters lifted off the ground and banked left in tandem.  Together, they smoothly descended the north side of the mountain and headed for the thin blue line of ocean on the horizon.

73

General Wei stood in front of his large office window with his hands crossed behind his back.  Outside, the smog had lightened enough to allow most of the citizens to go back outside again.  Long gone were the clear blue skies he remembered from his youth.  It had all changed.  It seemed the poisonous smog was now simply a cost of progress for Beijing, and many other cities.  The industrial progress of the country had been too much and too fast for nature to keep up.  And they were now paying for it.

There was a knock on the door behind him.  He replied and turned to see his secretary enter, escorting in the young lieutenant.  Wei knew him only by reputation and examined the man’s strong, youthful face.  A face that many still had, one of unswerving love for his country and army.  Wei wished he still had it.

Wei’s secretary ducked back out, closing the door.   He continued studying the man and his wrinkled uniform. “Has anyone else seen this?”

The lieutenant’s dark eyes were like stone.  “No, sir!  I brought it straight from Lieutenant Chao.”  He held out his arms and offered the small box to Wei.

The seal was unbroken.  “You’ve done well, Lieutenant.  You will receive a personal commendation for this.”

Wei kept his bemused expression from showing.  In a few hours, a commendation with General Wei’s name on it was more likely to harm the man’s career than help it.  Nevertheless, he saluted and dismissed him.

When the door closed again, Wei placed the box on his desk.  He momentarily admired the box’s ornate exterior before breaking the wax seal and unlocking it.  Inside were three large vials of clear, frozen liquid.  The DNA was from some of the first plants captured in Guyana.  He held one up and examined it.

Was it possible it had been tampered with or switched?  Of course.  There was always a way.  However, ultimately, Wei had little left to rely on but practicality.

He placed the vial back in its place and closed the lid.  He then reached out and picked up his phone.  Wei was about to give his last order as one of China’s most decorated generals.

He had long known he would be the sacrificial lamb of his political masters.  Yet what he was about to do would cause his family name to end up as one of the most publicly hated in China’s history.

Their sacrificial lamb was about to leave its masters utterly stunned.

74

Lieutenant Chao stood on the deck of his corvette, too far away to see even the faintest hint of land.  Behind him, the fading sun was beginning to set against the watery horizon.  A sunset he hardly noticed.

He had very little time now.  The U.S. and Brazil were undoubtedly pursuing them which meant his stop in the middle of the ocean had to be swift.

The corvette and the Russian submarine Forel were side-by-side with a makeshift gangplank running between the vessels.  The two Chinese submarines escorting them south would know they’d stopped and were undoubtedly waiting for them, just ahead out of sight.

The transfer of the packaged plants off the corvette and onto the Forel was quick.  They weren’t taking many: just enough to grow and then sell the DNA on the black market.  It was Chao’s ticket to ultimate wealth.

With the help of his Russian partners, he was about to completely disappear.  It was the only way.  Until, of course, one day when everyone finally had the formula, and he would be able to buy his way back into China, into their aristocracy.  It was one of the constants in history; money always forgave.

Twenty crates.  That’s all he needed.  Hell, it took longer to tie up the boats than to transfer the precious cargo.  When the last crate was tossed aboard the Forel, Chao stepped aboard.  His life of hiding was about to begin.

Chao pushed the thick board away and watched it clamor down between the metal hulls, splashing into the ocean.  It was so loud that he didn’t hear the yelling at first.  However, as the gangplank sank below the water, he caught the sound of someone yelling below deck and frantically clambering up the ladder.  Chao turned to find himself looking into the ashen face of the Russian captain.  He screamed a single word at the top of his lungs, which took Chao a split second to register through the heavy accent.

“Torpedoes!”

Chao’s eyes bolted open and he whipped around.  Not far away, he could clearly see four separate drafts speeding toward them in the water.  His last thought was one of confusion.  The only submarines close enough to fire on them were their own.

All four torpedoes found their mark just seconds apart.  Together, the corvette and the Forel erupted in dual explosions.  Each of their hulls was ripped apart in the blink of an eye, along with their contents and crew.  Multiple fireballs billowed into the air and large pieces of burning metal shot outward over the water.  The explosions momentarily lifted both vessels before they promptly crashed back down together, plunging through the surface.

The ocean wasted no time, immediately surging over and inside the gaping wounds. Once fully underwater, the hulls gradually twisted away from one another and descended rapidly toward their watery grave.

The explosions were tremendous, but they were still too far away to be seen from the white sandy beaches of Rio de Janeiro, where the trim figure of Carolina tiptoed over the sand and back to their chairs.

Blanco sat reclining, facing the sparkling blue ocean in front of him.  The soothing sound of the cascading waves tried to hypnotize him over the cool breeze.

Carolina set his bottle down on the arm of the wide wooden chair and sat down in the adjoining recliner.  Without a word, Blanco reached for the beer and took a long drink.

Even with the limited authority she had, Carolina had been able to take control of enough of Alves’ assets to last them a lifetime.  The vast majority of the billionaire’s wealth still belonged to the corporations, which didn’t bother him.  It was best not to be greedy and draw too much attention.  Blanco was also pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to modify someone’s living will.  Especially when the parties involved stood to benefit handsomely.

As expected, the investigation would go on for some time.  Blanco’s explanation of their fight with the Chinese on the mountain and the resulting deaths of Alves and his men met little resistance.  And now they had enough money to keep it that way.  He did regret having to kill the two pilots when he found them at the poacher’s camp, but it was the only way.  There would have been too many inconvenient facts left to explain.

As for Alves, Blanco held little remorse.  The man had made a great many enemies and yet still lived a long, wealthy life of which most others could only dream.  Given South America’s long tumultuous history, Alves enjoyed a better ride than almost anyone.  He should have been more appreciative.

Blanco adjusted his position and felt the searing pain in his shoulder.  He wondered about the man in black whom he had shot before fleeing the mountain.  The man was most likely dead.  Thankfully, Blanco had gotten a better shot off, but he was still damn lucky the stranger only got him in the shoulder.

Blanco made an imperceptible shrug.  Better him than me.

75

General Wei watched the tall trees pass by with a surreal sense of loss as he drove deeper into the mountains of Northern China.  Why had he never fully appreciated the detail of the world around him until the end?  Why didn’t anyone?

Hours later, his car turned off the old road and into the gravel parking lot of a tiny hospital.  He was several hundred kilometers outside of Beijing, in a small rural town that the country’s reckless industrial expansion seemed to have forgotten.  He brought the car to a stop and slid the gearshift into park, then opened his door and immediately stepped out.

Retrieving a large satchel from the back seat, Wei marched briskly toward the old, faded double doors.  He pulled one open and walked down a narrow hallway.  When he reached the last door, he paused and gently pushed it open.

She was just as he had left her.  Lying in bed, with eyes closed.  She was so beautiful.  Her smooth face and delicate hands still looked as tender as he could ever remember.  It was only her accelerated breathing that gave away her illness.  He lowered himself onto her bed and placed his old hand over hers.

She wasn’t diagnosed with degenerative heart disease until after her mother had died.  A small part of him was thankful for that.  Watching his daughter slip away was torture enough, but the thought of having to hold his wife while she watched would have been unbearable.

Wei stood up and turned around in the same motion, setting his satchel down on the old table.  He unlocked it and promptly pulled out a small brown paper bag.  He tilted the bag down, causing the first vial to slide out into his palm.  He then held the cylinder up and shook it.  The fluid was now completely thawed.  Inserting the needle of a syringe into the top, he pulled the small plunger back, withdrawing the clear liquid.

He stared at his angel for only a moment before finally inserting the needle into her IV tube and discharging the bacterial solution.  Next, he calmly, but quickly, began withdrawing the solution from the second vial.

***

When he was done, Wei slipped the bag and the empty vials into his coat pocket.  He left the rest of the contents in the satchel.

He sat back down on his daughter’s bed and held her hand for the last time.  God, she was so beautiful.  So perfect.  Just like her mother.  She had been his sunshine in a world of darkness, with her eyes always so bright and pure.

Now, her heart was in the last stages, and a final gift was all he had left to offer.  When he’d learned of the discovery in Guyana, he knew it was his last hope.  His only hope.  And he had moved heaven and earth to make it happen.

Now his precious seventeen-year-old daughter lay helpless, fighting against a disease that was quickly breaking her body down.  Why were the most beautiful so often the ones taken?

Wei would never know if the DNA solution helped her.  He could only pray now that it would.  If it did, he hoped that she would one day learn the truth about why her father took his own life.  That it was an act of a man who had sacrificed everything to give her one last chance.

From the beginning, he knew it was unlikely they would be able to harvest the plants without someone finding out.  He also knew that they might have to fight their way out to protect it.  But when the Americans showed up, Wei knew his fate was sealed.

Nevertheless, a preemptive strike against the United States would only lead to trouble.  Especially when they finally discovered it was a Chinese submarine that had destroyed the U.S. science vessel and not the Russians.  And the most obvious solution to avoid the Americans’ rage was to blame the attack on a rogue officer.  Someone with both the authority and the mental deterioration to do it.  After all, the man had lost both his wife and daughter.  Once identified, his government would, of course, have to make him the example and the punishment severe.

However, Wei had other plans.  Even in her critical condition, he had moved his daughter to a safe location.  Some place his masters would never think to look.  After the funeral service, he changed her name and enlisted the help of a truly honorable man: a rural doctor and a faithful man of God.

The doctor would care for Wei’s daughter until her final day, whenever that would be.  The rest of his satchel, packed full of money, would provide whatever resources the man needed to help his people.  And one day, he might just be able to tell Wei’s daughter the truth.  That Wei was not mad.  He was not insane.  He was a man of morals who had seen too much in his life, and too much of the true state of humanity.  He was not about to unleash the power of immortality upon a race whose only decent values came from the unavoidability of death.  Left unchecked, with no earthly penance, he had little doubt that his fellow man’s soul would become something truly terrible.

And yet, in the end, he was a father.  A father who loved his daughter more than life itself.  He could destroy the precious cargo of his masters, but he would never let his little girl go without doing everything he could to save her.

If she survived, perhaps her special DNA would one day in the future be discovered when the human soul had grown wiser.  But the time was not now.

He only hoped that whoever was in charge of the discovery for the Americans, believed the same.

76

It was his fault.

Admiral Langford stared down at Krogstad’s headstone less than twenty feet away and struggled to maintain his composure.  Giving orders that cost lives was not for the faint of heart.  Nevertheless, no one could avoid the emotional agony when that person was a friend.

He had ordered Krogstad to stop the Chinese warship at all costs with a ship that had no ability to fight.  But after the Russian torpedo attack, Krogstad was left powerless to do anything but delay the inevitable.   He lost his life, along with several of his crew.  And for what?  The corvette had escaped with its cargo, protected by the Forel.  It appeared the Russians and Chinese had been aligned the entire time.

The response from the United States would come soon enough, and Langford was quickly growing wary as to where it would end.

The Chinese now possessed one of the greatest discoveries in history, and the U.S. had nothing.  The sample from aboard the Bowditch could not be found, which was not surprising considering the sheer damage to the ship and its science lab.

Langford glanced up forlornly at Krogstad’s wife and family, still huddled in front of the marker.  Commander Lawton stood next to her mother with an arm around her shoulders.  All they would know was that Roger Krogstad was innocently attacked and that he still managed to save most of the lives aboard his ship.  They didn’t know that their husband and father was dead for a very simple reason.  And that reason was standing only a few feet behind them.

Langford finally turned to go as the rain began to drizzle.  He looked solemnly at Clay, who was standing nearby, waiting.

“It was a nice service.”

Langford nodded.  “Did you know that Roger and I entered the academy together?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He was a hell of a captain.”

“He was indeed.”

Langford squinted up at the dark clouds and sighed.  “The Russians are denying everything.  Claiming they didn’t have any knowledge of the Forel or its mission.”  He scoffed.  “Next they’ll tell us someone stole the damn thing.”  He looked back at Clay.  “And Brazil is insisting that both the Forel and the Chinese corvette were sunk off their southern coast.  So it appears the Chinese now have their ‘deniability.’”

“Sunk by whom?”

“That’s a good question.”

“What happens now, sir?”

“Who knows?”  He looked at Clay.  “Go take some time off, John.  You’ve earned it.  I’ll do my best to leave you alone this time.”

EPILOGUE

Caesare was nearly finished typing his last report when Borger opened his office door and stepped inside.  He closed it quietly behind him and stood, waiting until Caesare was done.  While he waited, Borger scanned the room very carefully with his eyes.

“The room’s clean, Will,” Caesare said without looking up.

“Are you sure?”

“Would you like to bring your device back and scan it again?”  When Borger paused to consider the question, Caesare looked at him.  “What’s up?”

Borger spoke in a hushed tone.  “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.  About…Guyana.”

Caesare saved and closed his document then leaned forward.  He watched as Borger grabbed the only other chair in the room and dragged it forward to the other side of the desk.  “What is it?”

Borger didn’t speak right away.  Instead, he blinked twice before inhaling and spoke barely above a whisper.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That was my first guess.”

“About the mountain.  About what we found.”  He paused again.  “We both agree it came from somewhere else, right?”

“Right.”

“And ‘somewhere else’ means pretty far away.  Maybe really far.”

“Okay.”

“So…I’ve been thinking about something: efficiency.”

“Efficiency?”

“Traveling through space takes energy, right?  And if you want to do it quickly, it takes a lot of energy.  We already know this.  It’s why even our spacecraft and probes are as small as possible.”

“Correct.”

“Traveling to Mars or Jupiter takes a while.  And relatively speaking, they’re not really that far away, right?  So traveling a very long distance, like between stars, means you have to travel pretty fast if you want to arrive anytime in the foreseeable future.  I mean, who’s going to send something if they have to wait ten thousand years to get there?”

“Are we getting somewhere here, Will?”

“Yeah, sorry.  What I’m really getting at, is that someone had to build that place inside the cliff, right?”

“Clearly.”

“So, if they were going to travel here, to bring their tubes and DNA, they had to arrive in a relatively short amount of time.  I mean, even they would have a finite lifespan, right?”

Caesare shook his head thoughtfully.  “Presumably.”

“Even if your body stopped aging, it doesn’t mean you would survive forever.  So, regardless, whoever brought those tubes here had to do it in a short enough timeframe that they could still finish the job.”

“Which means fast travel.”

“Exactly.  And fast travel means a lot of power required.  And that means efficiency.”

“I see.  In other words, you don’t take what you don’t need,” Caesare said.

“Yes!  You don’t take what you don’t need, so you can get here faster.  It’s no different from any other form of transportation.”

“Very true.”

“So whoever it was would have needed their cargo, food, and a host of other things.  And the further away they came from, the more fuel they would need to achieve velocity.  So my point is…that they would not only need all of this to get here, but they would need almost twice as much to get back!”

Caesare stared at him thoughtfully.  “Which means if they had to get here and back within a lifespan, they would have to go even faster.”

Borger nodded.  “And that means doubling again the amount of fuel, and if you start nearing light speed, the energy needed begins to approach infinite.”

Caesare leaned back in his chair and put two hands together in front of his mouth.  “So, it was a one-way trip.”

“It was a one-way trip,” Borger repeated triumphantly.  “It’s possible it was round trip, but the probabilities and physics are hugely against it.  Regardless of what kind of propulsion system they used.  That’s assuming we’re not talking about some make-believe technology like on TV.  No energy source is free from mathematics or economics.”

Borger continued.  “And since they clearly had cargo to transport, they had to use some kind of vessel or ship.  So my question is this…where’s the ship?!”

Caesare was looking at him over the top of his hands now.  “Well, if they hid their cargo, they could certainly hide a ship too.”

Borger nodded agreement.

“So…I guess either they bury it or ditch it.”

“That’s basically what it boils down to.”

“So where is it?” asked Caesare.

Borger took another deep breath.  “I have absolutely no idea.”

Caesare remained in his chair, thinking about it for a long time.  Finally, he shook his head and stood up.  “That’s a damn good point, Will.”

Once he was standing, Borger noticed a large black bag sitting on the floor behind Caesare.  “Are you going somewhere?”

“I am.”  Caesare picked up the bag and winced from the pain in his side.

“But you’re not even healed yet.”

“I know, but I can’t wait.”

“Where are you going?”

Caesare grinned subtly.  “To find Miguel Blanco.”

“Does Clay know?”

“Clay’s busy.”

***

The Hercules C-130 transport plane was waiting for Caesare on the tarmac at Andrews Air Force Base.  Its four turboprop engines were already idling smoothly when he climbed aboard.  He smiled immediately, seeing the faces of a Ranger team lining each side of the fuselage.

The door was closed behind him as he sat down onto the metal bench next to one of the soldiers.  He peered down the line with a look of admiration before leaning back carefully against the metal wall behind him.

It was Caesare’s favorite way to fly.  And his flight to Brazil would give him plenty of time to think about Borger’s lingering question.

Where was the ship?

***

Clay dropped the main sheet, letting it slide down to the boom where he began folding it accordion style.  He then quickly wrapped the straps around, securing it in place.  He paused and laid an arm over the folded sail, looking out over the horizon again with amazement.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Alison grinned, wrapping the last strap around the smaller end of the boom, and gazed out with him.  “I doubt many have.”

He turned to her as Alison suddenly cleared her throat.

“Can I…ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Okay.”  Alison tilted her head nervously.  “So, I know this might not be the ideal time and place, but…it’s been a year now.  And I know we haven’t exactly been able to spend a lot of time together over the last three or four months.”

Clay listened as she continued.

“I mean, not as much as maybe we’d like.”  She stopped herself.  “Not that I’m assuming how much time you want to spend with me…”  She rolled her eyes.  “This isn’t coming out right.”

She looked into Clay’s blue eyes and quickly glanced away.  “It’s just that…I want to, um…spend more time together.  And I don’t know if you’re seeing anyone else.  I mean, why wouldn’t you be?  You’re amazing.  It’s just that I really like you and I don’t know-”

“Alison,” Clay said calmly, cutting her off.  She stopped with raised eyebrows.  He smiled warmly at her and walked the length of the boom until he was just on the other side from her.  “Alison, I need to be honest with you.”

Her heart sank.

“I haven’t been interested in anyone else since our first date.”

Alison’s expression melted.  “Really?”

“Really.”  He wrapped his hand over hers.  “You’re the one who’s amazing.  You’re incredibly intelligent, beautiful, and compassionate.  There are so many wonderful things about you that it’s hard to even count them all.  Not to mention, you’re awfully cute when you’re nervous.”

Her eyes softened and she pursed her lips.  He suddenly ducked under the boom and came up close to her.  From there, Clay wasted no time, squeezing Alison’s shoulders and kissing her deeply.

Come now, Come now.

“Just a minute!” Alison sighed, then turned and frowned at Dirk’s head, bobbing out of the water, excitedly.

In the cockpit, she took the face mask from Chris and pulled the straps carefully over her ponytail.

Chris waited a moment then asked, “Air?”

Alison gave him a thumbs-up.”

Next to them, Lee was helping with the second mask.  “How’s that, Mr. Clay?”

Clay grinned.  He’d given up trying to get Lee to call him by his first name.  He wiggled the outside of the mask to make sure it had a secure seal.  “Good.”

He then added the waterproof earplugs and turned to look at Alison.  “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

Together they wriggled the BCDs and tanks onto their shoulders.  They slipped their arms through and then clipped the wide straps together.

Through her mask, Alison motioned to Clay.  “You’re going to love this.”

“I’m sure I will.”

As he followed Alison to the stern of the boat, Clay stopped and gazed out again over the ocean.  He was still amazed.  Tens of thousands of dolphins together at once and surrounding the boat for miles.  What was this place?

Clay watched Alison jump into the water with a scissor kick, keeping her head above the surface.  She rotated herself around and waited for him.

He hadn’t worn this exact kind of a system before, but Clay was almost as comfortable in diving gear as he was in his own skin.  He fell smoothly into the warm Caribbean water and popped up a few feet away.

Dirk and Sally both circled around from behind and popped their beaks out of the water.

We go now.  We go now.

She looked at John.  “Are you ready?”

“Yep.”

With that, the dolphins disappeared below, and Alison and Clay rolled forward, kicking their fins.

It was a clear day which provided the most sunlight and brilliantly lit up the beautiful coral below them.  They hadn’t gone very far before Clay’s voice came over the speaker.

“Wow, Alison!”

She turned her head as they descended.  “I know, right?!”

He stared, transfixed on the scene below them.  The deep colors and vibrancy of the coral were almost unimaginable.  “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Me either.  This is what they pilgrimage to every year.”

Clay remained in awe as they drifted lower still.  The amount and the variety of sea life were incredible, and he’d never seen underwater vegetation so encompassing.  “I’ve never even seen this on a postcard before.”

Alison laughed.

***

Above them, Lee and Chris leaned over the small table together, trying to block enough sunshine to view the monitor clearly.  The area was much tighter than their Prowler, but it was still a nice boat.

While they listened to Clay and Alison’s exchange over the speakers, Lee turned to Chris.  “Are you going down again?”

“Heck, yeah!”

Lee laughed and looked around the white fiberglass cockpit of the catamaran.  “Mr. Clay has a nice sailboat, eh?”

“He sure does.  He needs a coffee machine though.”

***

Below the boat, Clay reached out and grabbed Alison’s hand.  He kicked hard and accelerated, pulling her along with him.  Still following Dirk and Sally, they glided over a small falloff in the coral, giving them a brief sensation of flying.

Several hundred yards behind them, the largest plants swayed rhythmically in the gentle current.  Beneath the vegetation was a small crack in the coral.  Very gradually, and almost imperceptibly, something small emerged from the crack barely a millimeter across.  It slowly floated free and rose just a few inches before the bright, glowing green bubble popped and dissolved into the swirling water.

And if Clay and Alison had been able to view the reef from the air, the two would have noticed a strangely symmetrical shape.  As though something large were buried beneath it.

ABOUT DEEANN DRAPER

You might be interested to know, that while a fictional character in this story, DeeAnn Draper, is in fact, a real person.  And much like the character she has inspired, the real DeeAnn is also very intriguing. Her education covers everything from science, math, and chemistry, to psychology and English.  She spent over seven years working with Koko at the Gorilla Foundation in southern California.

Over the years, DeeAnn has enjoyed SCUBA diving, riding motorcycles, exercising and fixing up houses.  She served as the subject matter expert for Dulce and much of the primate related elements of LEAP.

The few factual liberties I’ve taken were for story line reasons.

Catalyst

Book 3

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Special thanks to Frank, Tim, and Les, for all of their expert and valuable advice.

Prologue

With a painful wince, Steve Caesare brushed back his shirt and slid a hand down over the handle of his gun.  The hallway he stood in was richly decorated with white marble walls and thick beige carpeting, allowing him to approach the door with very little sound.

Caesare glanced up at one of the overhead chandeliers, scanning the ceiling and walls for cameras.  Too well hidden.  His hotel uniform was bulging at the seams, barely containing his broad frame beneath.  Anyone taking a close look at a monitor would notice something wrong with his appearance.

The Tivioli Mofarrej was one of the most elegant hotels in São Paulo, and certainly the most expensive.  Used by the wealthiest clientele, the hotel emanated a raw sense of power and prestige, towering among the cityscape of Brazil’s richest city.

It had taken him two weeks.  Two weeks following the man he had now tracked to the room at the end of the hall.  Miguel Blanco was living large off the money he had stolen from Mateus Alves, his previous employer and one of the richest men in South America.  After killing his former boss, Blanco had successfully stolen nearly one hundred million Brazilian reales from Alves’ various accounts and trusts.  It was only a fraction of the old man’s wealth, but it was more than enough –– enough to become one of the very elites Blanco had spent much of his life protecting.

And it had been no easy task.  Gaining access to Alves’ accounts was one thing.  Blanco already had help with that.  The hard part was covering his tracks.  For that he needed the help of several others, compadres who were discreet and also stood to gain handsomely from the disassembling of Alves’ vast fortune.

Caesare, however, didn’t care about the money.  He was there for a very different reason.  The old man had been as corrupt as his murderer and Caesare held no sympathy for either of them.   He was there for one thing and one thing only: retribution.

He was there because if it had been up to Blanco, Caesare would have been just as dead, lying next to the old man on top of that mountain.  But Blanco didn’t know he had survived.  And after two weeks of searching, Caesare was about to pay him the mother of all surprise visits.

The absence of anyone guarding the door left Caesare a bit wary as he crept closer.  Guests staying in a presidential suite usually had a security detail.  Where was Blanco’s?  The man had previously been an officer in the Brazilian Intelligence Agency, which typically left men overconfident or completely paranoid.  But if he was paranoid, where was his detail?

Blanco was definitely in the room.  At least he had been thirty minutes ago.  They had zeroed in on the target’s cell phone signal, and pinpointed it to thirty meters from where Caesare was now standing before it was abruptly switched off. Now, ten feet from the door, he silently slid the .40 caliber Glock out from its concealed holster and laid his index finger along the side, just above the trigger guard.  He turned his head slightly, using his peripheral vision to check the hall behind him one last time.

When he reached the door, Caesare kept to the side and brought the gun around his right hip.  He raised it smoothly and leaned in closer, listening.  There was no sound at all.  No voices.  No television.  Nothing.

Blanco hadn’t left Rio de Janeiro with anyone except the one person Caesare knew would be with him: Alves’ young and longtime personal assistant, Carolina Sosa.  She was the one person who had access to many of the old man’s accounts and other verifiable information.  She was the gateway to Alves’ riches.

Caesare withdrew a small magnetic card, a used but very valuable card. It came from the hotel, which took only a few hours to find in São Paulo.  From a person who could encode a master keycard for almost any hotel in the city.

He held it in his left hand and twisted his wrist to peer at his watch, waiting.

Anytime, Will.

When Caesare heard the phone finally ring inside the room, he moved quickly, inserting the card into the door’s lock and pulling it back out.  The loud click was masked by the telephone’s ring and Caesare immediately pushed the door ajar –– just enough to prevent the lock from reengaging.  In the same motion, he brought the tip of his left shoe forward to prop the door open by half an inch.

The phone rang again, echoing through the room.  The third ring was the last, immediately plunging the room back into silence.   With another quick glance over his shoulder, Caesare pressed his ear close to the cracked door.  No footsteps.  No movement at all that he could hear.

He pushed the door in further and was met by a cool draft of air escaping past him.  The door opened further without any noise, allowing Caesare a look inside.  Down the entrance hallway, he spotted a dark polished table with chairs perfectly arranged.

He stepped inside, keeping the gun low but in front.  The pain in his ribs screamed as he twisted around to ease the door closed –– a result of the near fatal wound Blanco had given him.

The door gave a muted click shut and Caesare eased forward over the spotless marble flooring.  He stepped away from the wall and gradually edged himself around the corner.

Then he froze.

The scene before him was not what he was expecting.  The room seemed pristine except for two dining room chairs positioned in the middle.  In each chair sat a motionless figure, bound and bloodied.  Both gagged, with their heads down upon their chests.

The first was a woman, barely recognizable through the dark brunette hair dangling in front of her face.  Carolina Sosa.  The second was Miguel Blanco himself, his body slumping but held in place by the ropes around his waist.

Neither was moving.

Caesare immediately stepped back out of sight, leaving only the gun and half of his face exposed.  The scene looked fresh enough that the murderer could still be inside the suite.  After waiting a minute, he slowly eased himself back away from the wall and moved at a wedged angle, slowly peering back into the main room.  He crept forward onto soft carpet.  Caesare rounded the next doorway, staying well away from the corner, providing him maximum visibility.

It took several minutes to ensure the entire suite was clear, after which Caesare returned to the front room. He gazed at the two lifeless bodies.

Approaching the pair, he stared into Carolina’s hair-strewn face.  Beneath the dark strands, he could see her badly bruised skin.  He passed by her and stopped in front of Blanco.  The man’s face was entirely black and blue, his gag now fallen halfway off.

He stared at Blanco for a long time, finally shaking his head.  Living a life of deceit often ended abruptly, and sometimes violently.  The small rubber tourniquet hanging from the man’s arm told Caesare that whatever secrets Blanco had now belonged to someone else.  They had literally beaten and drugged it out of him.

It was too bad Caesare hadn’t gotten to him first.  At least he would have lived.  He scanned the room one last time before returning the gun smoothly to its holster.

Caesare began to turn for the door when something suddenly caught his eye, startling him.  His gun was back out before his brain even registered what it was.

Blanco had moved.

It was slight, but it was movement.  Blanco’s eyes remained closed, but the movement was more than just residual muscle twitching.  Caesare waited with his gun lowered but gripped firmly between both hands.  Then it happened again.

With one hand, he reached up and eased the Brazilian’s head back before pulling the rest of the cloth gag out of his mouth.  The swollen eyelids struggled, but finally managed to crack themselves open.  Dark, unfocused eyes peered out.

“Blanco,” Caesare whispered.

It took time for the eyes to focus on Caesare.  When they did, the recognition came quickly.  They opened wider in disbelief.

Caesare managed to refrain from smiling at Blanco and vindictively muttering the word “surpresa.”  Instead he rose and turned toward the phone.  He had picked up the handset when Blanco blurted something behind him.

“Não!”  A moment later he mumbled again, switching to English.  “Don’t call.”

“I’m calling for help.”

Blanco’s eyes dropped to his arm, where a small drop of blood was drying over the remains of an insertion point.  “There is…no help…for me,” he said weakly.

Caesare knelt in front of him.  “Who did it?”

“Otero,” he whispered.

Caesare knelt down next to him.  “What did he want?”

“Please.” Blanco’s voice grew fainter.  “Please…save them.”

Caesare glanced around the room.  “Save who?”

Blanco was now struggling just to make his lips move. “My family.”

1

Admiral Langford looked up as John Clay opened the wide door to his office with Will Borger standing behind him.  The Admiral quickly waved them in as he pushed a button on his phone and dropped the handset back onto the cradle.

“Okay, Clay and Borger are here.  Go ahead, Steve.”

“Bom dia, gents,” Caesare called through the speaker.  “You’re missing some beautiful weather down here.  Sweltering and muggy.”

Clay smiled.  “Sounds lovely.”

“Yeah, unfortunately it’s not all sunshine and roses.”

“Did you find Blanco?”

“Oh, I found him all right.  But I’m afraid he’s not in the best of moods.  He’s dead.”

Clay and Borger looked at Langford with surprise.

“Dead?” Borger repeated, confused.  “But we traced that call he made right before he turned his cell off just an hour ago.”

“Yeah well, I don’t think he was the one who turned it off.  I found him in his room beaten to a pulp.  The Sosa woman was already gone and Blanco was just minutes away.  I couldn’t do anything.”

“Was he conscious?”

“Barely.  I got a little out of him, but it was brief.”

Clay noticed an echo in Caesare’s voice.  “Where are you?”

On the other end, Caesare scanned up and down the metal stairs, working quickly to get his stolen uniform off.  “I’m in a stairwell, at the hotel.”

Langford looked at the phone.  “Any idea who did it?”

“Someone named Otero.  Ring a bell with anyone?”

They all shook their heads.  “No.”

Caesare nodded on his end.  “I suspect he was someone involved with Mateus Alves.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because that’s what they were after,” replied Caesare.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, they weren’t after the money.  They wanted answers.”

“What kind of answers?”

“As far as I can tell, answers about Alves.  Whoever this Otero is, he was looking for something specific.  Money is easy to trace, but Blanco and his girlfriend looked like they were subjected to some serious narco-interrogation, followed by a lethal cocktail.  Either way, I’m sure Otero didn’t expect someone like me to show up before Blanco was dead.”

Langford’s brows remained furrowed as he leaned in closer to the speakerphone.  “So what did you get out of Blanco?”

“Not much,” Caesare replied.  “He was pretty far gone.  But one of his last words was clear: macaco.”

“Macaco?”

Caesare peeled off the last of the uniform.  “It’s Portuguese for monkey, Admiral.  Otero knows about Alves’ preserve in Brazil, and he knows about the monkey.”

Langford watched Clay and Borger exchange looks.  The monkey was a small capuchin discovered by a team of “researchers” who had been employed by the old man before he was murdered.  In actuality, they were all poachers, except one.  One was a genuine researcher and had stumbled upon a very special capuchin monkey almost entirely by accident –– a monkey very different from the others they had caught.

This particular one was highly intelligent and while the average lifespan of most wild capuchins was roughly twenty-five years, this one was discovered to be profoundly older.  So much older, in fact, that the billionaire Mateus Alves threw every resource he had into two goals: finding out where the monkey had come from and doing it as quietly as possible.

Langford could see the gears turning in Clay’s head.  “Clay?”

He glanced up at the Admiral before turning back to the speakerphone.  “How did this Otero know about the monkey?  Or even that Alves was searching for it?”

“Or why someone like Alves would voluntarily abandon a billion dollar empire and completely disappear from public view.”

“Otero must have known something,” Clay mused.  “But how?”

“Blanco had been talking to a lot of people,” said Caesare.  “Maybe he was trying to capitalize on what Alves had already discovered.  And maybe he finally found someone crazy enough to listen.”

Clay nodded absently.  It was certainly plausible.  Except for the crazy part.  They all knew that what Alves was after wasn’t crazy at all.  Tracing the origins of the capuchin was one thing, but what Alves really wanted was its DNA.  Some primate DNA was almost 99% identical to humans.  If a primate could live more than four times its normal life span, it wasn’t much of a stretch for that DNA to be isolated, and potentially applied to humans.

Alves was old, in his eighties, and wanted more than anything to extend his own life.  And he believed he’d finally found just the miracle to help him do it.

Clay continued thinking.  “But someone wouldn’t just murder Blanco on a whim…over the word ‘monkey.’  They’d have to have gotten more.  Maybe a lot more.  And maybe enough to justify killing Blanco on the spot, to shut him up.”

Langford rubbed his chin.  “Then we have to assume that this Otero now knows everything.”  After a deep breath, he leaned forward again.  “Let’s table that for the moment.  It seems we have an even bigger problem to deal with.  I just received a report from the salvage team near Guyana.  They have recovered fragments of the torpedo and enough of its Comp-B explosive signature for a positive identification.”  Langford paused, looking at Clay and Borger.  “The Bowditch wasn’t sunk by the Russians like we thought.  It was sunk by the Chinese.”

Clay and Borger may have been visibly surprised at the news over Blanco being dead, but now they were absolutely stunned.

Two weeks before, the sinking of one of the Navy’s most modern research ships had seemed to be a completely separate event.  But it wasn’t.  It was connected to the billionaire Alves’ death in a way that none of them could have foreseen.  The U.S.S. Bowditch was investigating a Chinese warship quietly docked along the northern coast of South America, in the small country of Guyana.

However, what they discovered next was a revelation.  The ship’s Chinese crew was making mysterious trips into the jungle under the cover of darkness.  The Chinese had made a startling discovery on the very same mountain to which Mateus Alves had traced the capuchin monkey’s origins.

Over the speaker, Caesare was the first to reply.  “Admiral, did you say the Bowditch was sunk by the Chinese?”

“That’s right.”

“But the only sub in the area was Russian.”

“The only one we were aware of.”

“Wait a minute.”  Clay suddenly looked at Langford.  “That means a Chinese sub may have been there all along.”

“It looks that way.”

“And it waited to attack the Bowditch until their warship was leaving with its cargo.”

Langford nodded.  Clay knew as well as anyone how the events unfolded.  He was onboard the Bowditch when it was struck.

“So, that’s it!” exclaimed Clay.  “That’s why the warship itself never attacked…because it couldn’t.  And that’s why their sub was there.  For protection.  They were there to make sure the warship and its cargo made it out.”

“So they gutted the thing.”

Clay nodded, as the pieces fell into place.  “They’d been bringing those crates out of the jungle for months.  But there was no way they could have fit it into just one warship.  It’s too small.  Unless they gutted the ship.  Removing everything inside gave them the storage they needed, which meant it also left the ship defenseless.  Their submarine was simply waiting, ready to clear a path for it.”

Langford watched the expression on Clay’s face.  The guy never forgot anything.  Given enough time, he could figure damn near anything out.

“Well, that was clever,” Caesare said.

Langford frowned.  “The Russians were bad enough.  But the Chinese are a whole new problem.”

Clay was thinking the same thing.  Russia’s relationship with the U.S. had reached new lows over the fiasco in the Ukraine.  And Washington’s relationship with the Chinese was also deteriorating, assisted by the Chinese coming out publicly in support of Russia’s position.  Until then, China had remained a reluctant geopolitical partner of the U.S., primarily due to many decades of economic trading history.  But in recent years China had been taking steps of their own, inching closer and closer to an adversarial position.  When news leaked out that they’d actually attacked and sunk a large United States naval ship, things were bound to escalate, and badly.

“What happens now?” asked Clay.

Langford shook his head.  “Nothing good.  What the Chinese found on that mountain was worth starting a war over.  But make no mistake, we would have done the same thing.”

Langford rubbed his eyes.  The U.S. State Department had already begun condemning Russia for the destruction of the Bowditch.  Now they would have to downplay their previous remarks and redirect their accusations at China.  Yet they could not risk the trade relationship with China.  If it collapsed, all hell would break loose, and there would be no winner on either side.  The best the Administration could manage would be to corral the issue and turn it into a more subtle and very strategic counterattack.  Langford knew the U.S. politicians were not going to rest until they had their pound of flesh, no matter what the long term ramifications were.  The unfortunate truth was that politicians started wars but relied on men like Langford to fight them.

Langford blinked and found himself staring at the phone.  The room remained silent.  He straightened in his chair.  “For the time being, I want you three to find out what you can about Otero.  Alves had his connections and I’m sure this thug does too.  And the last thing we need is the Brazilian government finding out and getting involved.”

“Yes, sir,” all three answered almost simultaneously.

Langford promptly ended the call with Caesare.  He then watched Clay and Borger open the door, stepping out of the room.

The situation was unraveling quickly.

Langford let out a quick sigh.  Soon he would have to tell the men what had happened to the Chinese warship immediately after it escaped Guyana with its precious cargo.  Something that made absolutely no sense at all.

2

Clay followed Will Borger into his darkened office, which was a generous word to describe the space where Will worked.  Located on one of the subfloors of the Pentagon building, the room was in dire need of some windows and sunlight.  And a maid.  The room was filled with racks of computer and signaling equipment which few people would recognize.  A few pieces looked to be as old as Borger himself, who would soon be pushing fifty.

Will Borger approached his desk, with a screen that was three monitors wide.  Clay closed the door behind them.

With a loud squeak from his chair, Borger sat down and reached out to pull another forward for Clay.  “Have a seat.”

“I could use the stretch.”

Borger nodded and spun back around to the monitors.  “I need to show you something.  Something I haven’t told anyone yet.”

Clay watched him open a new window on the screen and begin typing.  A moment later a map filled the center screen.  He raised his hand and briefly tapped a large hard drive resting below the same monitor.

“This is the hard drive I had on the Bowditch.  Fortunately, I had it in my backpack when we were ordered to abandon ship.”

Clay peered at Borger.  “The one with the video footage?”

“Correct.”  He motioned to the map and reached for his mouse.  It was a map of South America, with Guyana centered on the screen.  Borger then double-clicked several times, zooming in on the area around Georgetown.  “When we got back, I wanted to see what really happened to the Bowditch.  So I downloaded the video from the ARGUS satellite before and after the impact.”

Clay was leaning over his shoulder when Borger stopped zooming and let the image crystalize.  A moment later, they could both clearly see the U.S.S. Bowditch from an aerial view.

“There she is,” he said, under his breath.

The image was frozen, but the white wake behind the stern was clearly visible and showed the ship traveling full speed toward Georgetown’s small harbor.  It was heading directly at the Chinese warship, which was trying to leave.

Borger then zoomed back out slightly, doubling the viewing area.  Both ships were now smaller, but a barely identifiable wake could be seen several hundred yards behind the Bowditch.

A torpedo.

Borger hit a button on his keyboard and the overhead images began to play as a video.  He moved out of the way, giving Clay a clear view.  It was only moments later when the bow of the ship could be seen beginning to move.  Clay knew it was the moment Captain Krogstad had given the order to do the unthinkable.  To bring the ship around.

“Geez,” Clay muttered.

“It’s hard to watch.”

“It is.”

Over the next few minutes, they watched in silence at the agonizingly slow turn of the ship, finally coming about just moments before the torpedo’s impact.

The Bowditch was a science vessel, which meant it had no real weapons to speak of –– certainly nothing with which to fight off a torpedo attack.  The only offensive capability lay in the Oceanhawk helicopter housed on the main deck.  In the video, they watched the rotors of the chopper gaining speed, desperately trying to lift off in time.  But the torpedo struck first.  Even in the video, the explosion against the port side of the bow was breathtaking.  Most of the forward deck was destroyed instantly.  On what deck remained, the Oceanhawk’s desperate attempt to escape came to an end.  Clay and Borger watched in eerie silence as the blast caused the helicopter to roll and slice its spinning rotors into the deck’s twisted metal.  The fragments burst into dozens of giant pieces of shrapnel just seconds before the Oceanhawk fell over the side, engulfed in an orange ball of flame.

The rest of the video played out exactly as the two men remembered it.  They could see everyone, including themselves, huddled on the stern of the ship where Krogstad had ordered them.  If he couldn’t outrun the torpedo, his only other option would be to save as many as he could.  On the stern, survivors had the best chance of deploying the lifeboats.  The rest of the ship was sacrificed to take as much of the blow as possible.

When it was over, Borger stopped the video and leaned back.  “That’s only the second time I’ve seen it.”

Clay nodded, his eyes still on the screen.  “I can see why.”

With a deep breath, Borger turned back to him.  “There’s something else I wanted to show you.”

Clay raised his eyebrows and waited.

Borger clasped his hands in front of his protruding stomach.  “So, I’ve been picking through the rest of the satellite video.  I’m not sure if you know this, but the attack was big enough that most commercial aircraft in the area were immediately grounded, even as far away as Venezuela.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yep.  Everything.  Down.  Kaput.”  Borger then began to grin.  It was a look John Clay had come to know well.

“You found something.”

“All aircraft were grounded,” he repeated.  “All commercial aircraft.”

Clay raised an eyebrow.  “But not…”

“But not military aircraft.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning…,” Borger replied, “military flights were not grounded.  Or should I say…the only military flight.”  He began typing again in a new window, which brought up a second map.  The second map was fixed on Georgetown.   Borger pointed to one frame, then to the other.  “This one is the international airport in Guyana.  Note the timestamp on both screens.”

“They’re both the same.”

“Exactly.  Same time, in two places.  The first picture is the Bowditch after it was struck.  The second, the Georgetown airport.”

Borger zoomed closer in on the airport and sped up the video.  Both feeds accelerated, still in sync.  After almost a minute, he froze them both.  “That’s it.  Right there.”

Clay studied the image.  An airplane could be seen taxiing onto one of the airport’s runways.

“What is that?”

Borger zoomed in closer and waited a moment for the image to sharpen again at the new resolution.  The turboprop engines were clear, jutting out beneath the craft’s high wing.  Borger zoomed in still further.

“It’s a Y-12,” Clay said, under his breath.

Borger nodded.  “Correct.  Chinese made, utility design, and able to carry upwards of twenty passengers.”

“Was it there the whole time?”

“No.  It flew in three days before the attack.  At night.”

Clay frowned.  Of course it was at night.  Nightfall seemed to be the preferred time for everything the Chinese were up to in Guyana.

Borger rolled the video again and they both watched as the plane paused briefly then accelerated down the runway and lifted into the air.  As it climbed, the aircraft banked and headed due west.

Clay straightened behind Borger and folded his arms.

“Care to guess where it’s headed?”

There was only one country to the west that was within the plane’s range.  And it was another country with whom the U.S. had a strained relationship.  “Venezuela.”

“Correct again.”  Borger continued typing on his keyboard and skipped to another location.   “But not just any airport in Venezuela.  It flew directly to El Libertador Air Force Base in Maracay and landed three hours and thirty-seven minutes later.  Upon landing, a single person exited the plane and boarded another.”  He scrolled the map and stopped on another aircraft.    One that was much bigger.

This time, Clay recognized the plane without having to enlarge the picture again.  Both its design and enormous size were unmistakable.  It was a Xian Y-20.  One of the largest aircraft in the Chinese Air Force.

“I’m guessing that’s a transport.”

“It sure is,” nodded Clay.  “But it’s still in development.  That one is a prototype they revealed a couple years ago.”

“A prototype?”

“Yes.”

Clay’s frown was deepening.  The El Libertador base in Venezuela was infamous for the coup attempt in 1992 when General Visconti seized control of the base and launched an aerial attack on the capitol city.  But it wasn’t the reputation that concerned Clay.  It was the fact that the Chinese planes had landed at a military base and not a commercial airport.  It meant the Venezuelan government was partially involved, or at the very least, aware of the activities of the Chinese.  Having the Xian Y-20 there most likely meant the Venezuelan government already knew more than they would ever admit.

“Did it fly straight back?” Clay asked.

“It did.  It refueled once in Hawaii before continuing on to Beijing.”  Borger peered at Clay.  “But why would they send a prototype all the way to South America?  That’s risky.”

“The Y-20 has the longest range of any of their transport planes.  Sending an armed aircraft would have attracted far more attention.  But they still needed something secure that could fly back almost nonstop.”

“For one person?  That’s one hell of an expensive trip.”

“Which means it was either a very important person,” he looked at Borger, still seated in front of him, “or the person was carrying something important.”

“Or both.”

Clay nodded.  “Or both.”

Together, the two continued staring at the frozen screen where a tiny figure could be seen crossing the tarmac to the larger plane.

Clay’s phone suddenly rang, snapping them out of it.  He looked at it and answered, putting the call on speakerphone.  “Where are you, Steve?”

“Outside, near Santos.  Where are you?”

“We’re in Borger’s office.”

“Good.  I hope you’re helping him clean it.”

Clay grinned while Borger pretended to look offended.

“You two alone?”

“Yes.”

On the other end, Caesare looked out at the ocean from a shaded spot beneath a large Brazilian rosewood tree.  The beach was less than two blocks away and he stood scanning the area as he spoke, looking for anyone paying too much attention to him.

By the time Langford had ended their call, Caesare had already reached the first floor of the hotel and was off the property entirely inside of three minutes.  It wouldn’t be long before someone discovered the bodies of Blanco and Sosa, and Caesare had no intention of being nearby.

“So what did I miss?”

Clay glanced again at the monitors on Borger’s desk.  “It looks like Will may have found something.”

“Your voice doesn’t exactly sound exuberant.”

“I’ll try harder next time.”

“I bet.  I’m going to guess there’s bad news coming.”

“Maybe.  It seems someone got clearance and flew out of Georgetown just after the Bowditch was hit.  On a Chinese turbo-prop to Venezuela, and from there a transport straight back to Beijing.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish we were.”  Clay leaned in, peering closer at the screen.  “Just one person.  Carrying some kind of a case.”

Caesare sighed.  “That’s not good.”

“Now who’s not exuberant?”

“I say we blame Borger.”

Will Borger’s eyes opened wide with surprise, and then narrowed.

“We were actually getting ready to blame you.”

In spite of the jokes, they all knew how serious it was.  If Borger was right, then it looked like something had been taken off that ship before it departed.  Something important enough to fly directly to Beijing, the political epicenter of China.  Clay already had a guess as to what the man was carrying.

“Any idea who the person was, Will?”

“Not yet.  But I’ll find out.”

From under the tree, Caesare nodded, absently watching an attractive woman cross the street.  “Well, I’m afraid my news isn’t much better.  There’s something I didn’t mention on the phone with Langford.”

Without moving his head, Clay exchanged a curious look with Borger.  “What’s that?”

“I got a little more out of Blanco before he took his long ride into the sunset.  He told me about Otero, and that he knows about the monkey.  But it seems he knows more than that.  Blanco managed to spit out what Otero was asking him about.  He said Acarai.  The name of the mountain.”

Clay sighed.  “Crap.”

“Yeah.  How much he knows, I’m not sure.  But it’s a lot more than just the monkey.”

“If that’s true,” Borger said, “then he’s gonna be going back up there.”

“Exactly.  And if he pokes around long enough, he may just stumble across something he’s not supposed to find.”

Without a word, Clay stepped forward and sat down in the chair next to Borger.  “That means we need to get there before he does.”  He stopped to think.  “And we’re going to need help.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

“How would you like to make a stopover during your flight back?”

From under the giant rosewood, Caesare couldn’t help but smile.  “Are you kidding?  I love Puerto Rico.”

Next to Clay, Borger raised an eyebrow and spoke loud enough for Caesare to hear.  “You do understand we actually need DeeAnn on our side.”

“Piece of cake.”

Clay wasn’t so sure it would be that easy.  “All right then.  Borger and I will see what else we can find out on this end.  When are you leaving?”

“I’m not sure,” Caesare replied.  He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.  With the phone still to his ear, he turned back to face the glimmering skyscrapers of São Paulo in the distance.  “I need something first.  I need to know where Miguel Blanco’s family is.”

From his chair, Borger stared at Clay’s phone with a puzzled look.  “You want to know where Blanco’s family lives?”

“No,” he replied dryly.  “I need to know where they are right now.”

3

The bright Puerto Rican sun shimmered over the top of the salt water tank, creating a curtain of glistening sunlight waving gently through the water.

On the other side of the thick glass stood Alison Shaw, watching as the two dolphins, Dirk and Sally, occupied the far end of the tank.  A group of children stood packed together there.  Both dolphins floated close, playfully bumping their noses against the glass at the spots where the children were pressing their hands.  They screamed with excitement when Dirk impulsively turned sideways, placing one of his flippers against the glass.

Alison was happy.  Really happy.  She looked down and gently rubbed the bandage wrapped around her wrist.  They had returned from their harrowing trip through the Caribbean, all in one piece, with only scrapes and bruises.  Chris Ramirez and Lee Kenwood had taken the worst of it, but they were home and healing quickly.

Dirk and Sally had returned with them, even though they were free to come and go as they pleased.  Dirk was especially eager to return to the lab in Puerto Rico, which surprised Alison.  She was sure it had something to do with how much he was fed.  Without having to spend any effort hunting for fish, she suspected her lab was becoming something akin to a vacation for Dirk.

Best of all, Alison was in love.  She had found the man of her dreams.  John Clay was the most amazing man she’d ever met, even if the men she previously dated had set that bar fairly low.  But John was nothing short of a phenomenon.  Handsome, strong, smart, and a man who could really communicate.  He was every woman’s dream.

“It’s almost feeding time,” came Chris’s voice from behind her.  “Which means it’s time for us to start arguing about lunch.”

Alison turned and eyed the mug in his hand.  “Isn’t it getting a little late for coffee?”

Chris smiled.  Most of the bruising along the left side of his face was gone.  “It’s never too late for coffee.”  His obsession had now become an ongoing joke between them.  It stuck from the early days of their working together, sometimes spending all night at work.  Like her, Chris’s specialty was marine biology and he’d joined her team early in its formation.

Chris emptied the rest of the cup and set it down on his cluttered desk.  “I’ll see if the IT boys want to go.  Are you in?”

“No, you guys go ahead.”

Alison watched him cross the room and climb the wide stairs up to the second floor.  When he disappeared around the corner, she turned back to the tank.  The children were waving now, saying their goodbyes and being pulled gently away from the glass by their teachers.  Another class visit was scheduled for that afternoon.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  There was only one thing that kept her from full contentment.  And Alison was trying to remain in denial about it for as long as she could.

She glanced at the far end of the room where their massive, and now infamous, IMIS computer system covered the entire wall.  Short for “Inter Mammal Interpretive System,” the original version was what allowed for the incredible breakthrough back in their Miami research center.  Since relocating to Puerto Rico, and closer to Dirk and Sally’s natural habitat, the IMIS system had been radically improved.  What that improvement led to next was a leap forward that not even they were prepared for.  It not only expanded IMIS’s translation capabilities beyond dolphins to primates, but it had done so in a way that surprised even their computer experts, Lee and Juan.  And on top of it all, during a near crisis, IMIS had successfully translated pieces of language in a way that none of them had ever anticipated, or even programmed for.

She stared at the massive wall of servers, humming quietly with its hundreds of green lights blinking away.  The system was silently crunching data and looking for more relationships between already established language patterns.

Alison looked away as she spotted a familiar face entering from the long hallway which connected the lab to their outdoor habitat.  DeeAnn Draper smiled and looked curiously around the silent room.

“Must be lunch time.”

Alison grinned.  “How’d you guess?”

“I love predictable men.”  DeeAnn smiled and watched the last of the children wave goodbye to the dolphins at the other end of the tank.

Alison’s face took on a worried expression.  She frowned and lowered her voice.  “Are you still sure?”

“Yes,” DeeAnn nodded.  “I talked to Penny again this morning.  They’re getting things ready at the Foundation.”

Alison sighed.  She understood why DeeAnn was leaving.  The last month had been devastating for her, both emotionally and physically.  She had embarked on a trip that began as a cause to help find a friend, only to end up nearly perishing herself.  If it weren’t for Steve Caesare single-handedly saving her, she wouldn’t have been standing in front of Alison now.

A serious brush with death had a habit of changing people.  Alison understood that.  And DeeAnn was one of them.  She was alive and grateful, but she was done with adventure.  She wanted nothing now but to live a simple life and to keep a single person safe.  At least to her it was a person.  And now, thanks to the IMIS system, she was absolutely sure about that.

“So…”

DeeAnn answered the question before she could finish.  “We leave a week from Friday.”

Alison pressed her lips together and nodded.  She reached out and hugged DeeAnn.  Over the last several months, the woman had become her mentor.  An amazing woman in so many ways, who also had changed the world as much as Alison and her team ever had.  The world just didn’t know it yet.

“When are you going to tell the guys?”

DeeAnn cleared her throat.  “Today or tomorrow.”  She managed another smile and glanced over Alison’s shoulder to see Dirk and Sally approaching.  They glided smoothly up to the glass, watching the two women.

Hello D Ann.

She blinked a tear away and turned her smile to them.  “Hi, Sally.  Hi, Dirk.”

Dirk stared at her, quizzically.  D Ann sad.

“A little.”  DeeAnn still couldn’t quite get used to the way IMIS pronounced her name during a translation.  According to Lee, the computers seemed to have trouble resolving a double “e” following the letter “d.”  He didn’t understand it either, but the resulting pronunciation sounded more like “D-an” with a stutter.  It wasn’t a big deal, but it always reminded her that a machine was ultimately behind the translations.

Why sad.

DeeAnn looked at Alison.  “It’s a long story.”

A loud buzz sounded from a monitor on the main desk.  On the screen, a red error message displayed “unable to translate – story.”

“It’s all right,” Alison said.  She changed the subject.  “Are you ready for food?”

Dirk became noticeably excited once Alison’s words were translated into a series of clicks and whistles.  Yes, food now.

Alison turned to Sally, who was hovering slightly closer than Dirk.  “How about you, Sally?  Are you hungry?”

The women heard their translation emitted from the underwater speaker, but Sally did not answer.  Instead, she simply stared at them with her dolphin’s perpetual smile.

“Sally?”

Again the speaker sounded.  After a long silence Sally finally replied.

You leaving.

Both Alison and DeeAnn’s eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s…right, Sally.”  DeeAnn answered.  “How did you know that?”

Why you leave?

She frowned.  How could she explain human emotion to a dolphin?  It was a lot of things.  Depression.  Grief.  Fear.  Fear of somehow losing the purest thing she had ever known.  And the love of finally feeling like a mother.

“It’s…complicated.”

The translation system buzzed again, unable to translate “complicated.”

DeeAnn tried again.  “It’s hard to tell you.”

Her response was successful, but Sally didn’t answer.  DeeAnn wasn’t sure whether that meant Sally was satisfied with the answer or not.  Dolphins were not human, but even with her limited time speaking with Dirk and Sally, she was surprised at how human-like some of the communication felt.  She wondered if much of what we considered unique human communication actually had more underlying commonalities with other forms than we knew.

How you Alison?

“I’m good,” she smiled.  “How are you?”

How you hurt?

Alison glanced down at her bandage.  “I’m getting better.  Thank you.”  Since they had returned, both Dirk and Sally were surprisingly curious of their injuries, including those of Chris and Lee.  In fact, curious wasn’t quite the right term.  They were more “attentive.”  She was very touched by their concern and wondered if they were somehow feeling responsible.  They may have been there when it happened, but they certainly were in no way responsible.  Still, at times it left her with a distinct feeling of not only sympathy from the dolphins but a sense of empathy.  It prompted her to ask them on multiple occasions if they had been hurt by the explosion.  They insisted they hadn’t, but she wasn’t so sure.

Where man?

Alison gave Sally a sly grin.  The dolphin was asking about John.  He had spent a few days with her on the island after their return and spent some time talking to Dirk and Sally.  Being an expert in technology, he continued to marvel at what they had done with IMIS.  He was particularly impressed with the vests Lee and Juan designed.  Clay warned her that it was just a matter of time before the world truly understood what she and her team had achieved.  He warned her to prepare for that.  The wave of publicity they’d received in Miami after the first breakthrough would be nothing compared to what was coming.

Alison brushed her dark brown hair back behind an ear and answered Sally with a girlish chuckle.  “John had to leave.  He had to go home.”

Sally made the familiar sound that IMIS had long ago identified as laughter.  He come back.

Alison sure hoped so.  And maybe one day he’d be back to stay.

***

Upstairs, Chris was sitting with Lee Kenwood and Juan Diaz in the computer lab.  It was comfortably sized and well organized with metal tables along the wall. Neatly stacked shelves hung above them, filled with books, a wide range of computer parts, and mounds of magnetic backup tapes.  Another larger table rested in the center of the room, illuminated by a bright lamp overhead.  On the table lay a new vest with various cables strung to a nearby computer.

Positioned in the middle of the vest was a large speaker with a much smaller microphone and digital camera embedded just a few inches above it.  It was a replacement for the damaged unit that DeeAnn had brought back from South America.  The system data had still been intact, but the small motherboard and processor were not worth salvaging.

Chris watched Lee and Juan, patiently waiting for an answer on lunch.  Both were distracted and staring intently at the monitor atop Lee’s desk.

“I take it you’re still looking for the ghost in the system.”

“It’s not a ghost,” Lee mumbled, moving the mouse and scrolling down.

“Sorry, I mean “anomaly.”

“It’s not an anomaly either.”

“Riddle?”

Juan turned and rolled his eyes while Lee, still facing forward, shook his head.

“Come on!  I’m joking.”  Chris reached down and picked up a thick textbook from Lee’s desk.  He thumbed through it.  It advertised itself as the bible of computer algorithms.  He believed it.  The contents looked completely unreadable.  “So what’s wrong exactly?”

Lee took a break and turned his chair around.  “It’s not that something is necessarily wrong.  It’s more that something isn’t right.”

“Is it part of the log problem?”

“I think so.”

The log problem to which Chris referred had in fact been a serious problem.  Before their harrowing trip to the Caribbean, Lee discovered that the IMIS translations and the related video feeds were falling increasingly out of sync.  The logs on the servers showed the frequency of errors to be increasing rapidly, leaving Lee worrying that thousands of new lines of computer code had seriously broken something.

But after several sleepless nights, they discovered that IMIS was actually picking up on very subtle cues outside commonly recognized audible patterns.  In other words, IMIS, a machine, was literally learning “nonverbal” communication.

However, Lee and Juan couldn’t figure out how it was doing it.  The vests were working almost too well.

Chris listened as Lee explained what they were looking for.  “So, you’re saying IMIS shouldn’t be as effective as it is?”

“More or less.”  Lee walked over to the table and held up their new vest.  “When IMIS detects speech patterns from Dirk and Sally, it digitizes the signal and compares it to the database of words it has identified.  When it has a match, it sends those translated words back through the speaker.”

“And then in reverse order when we speak, right?”

“Exactly.  It works as expected with the dolphins because their language is mostly verbal.  But that changes with a primate.  Remember, DeeAnn says primate communication involves a lot of nonverbal communication like gestures and facial expressions.”

“Right.”

“Well, that’s where it’s not making sense,” Lee shrugged, looking at Juan.  “IMIS is now picking up on nonverbal cues –– we’ve already established that.  We’re not exactly sure on how that’s happening.  But the more obvious problem is that while IMIS is picking up on those nonverbal cues, it has no way to convey them.”

“That we can see,” corrected Juan.

Chris squinted.  “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Lee thought for a moment.  “Let’s say, for example, that a nonverbal cue IMIS picks up from Dulce is a shrug.  It sees that from the video feed and matches it with the audio.  But how does it convey that?”

Now Chris understood.  “I see.  So while IMIS can observe a shrug, it has no way to actually transmit that gesture through the vest’s speaker.”

“Bingo!”

“Wow.  That is weird.”

“It shouldn’t be able to translate gestures in both directions, but it does.  And we don’t know how.”

Chris thought it over.  He didn’t know the answer either.  He had a suspicion but nothing concrete.  It was a topic that Alison and he had discussed several times over the last couple years and were sure others had too.  After years in the field, working with different creatures, they had eventually come to the same conclusion: there was something deeper and unknown happening when it came to communication.  Especially in less cognizant brains.  It was something many people had wondered about at one time or another.  How animals knew so much instinctively, even things they had never been taught by a parent.

Communication was the means to knowledge.  But Chris and Alison, as well as other researchers, even veterinarians, were sure there was something else happening at a deeper level.  A level that humans could not yet understand or measure.

But maybe IMIS was doing just that.

4

Tiago Otero raised his head upon hearing a soft knock on the door.  A moment later it was slowly pushed open and one of Otero’s assistants apologetically poked his head inside, interrupting the discussion.

Otero displayed a pained expression and apologized to the man across the small table.  With dark eyes topped by a head of stark white hair, the other man appeared older than Otero.  He was dressed in the familiar dark green and brown fatigues of the Brazilian Army.  Silently, he watched as Otero rose from his leather chair and followed the assistant out.

They stood in the hallway, waiting for the door to click shut.  When it did, Otero’s eyes became cold.

“What is it?”

“I’m very sorry to interrupt,” whispered the younger man.  “But you wanted me to alert you if there was a problem.”

Otero looked at him expectantly.

“Lieutenant Russo has lost contact with his men.”

Otero’s expression barely changed.  He stared intently, twisting his lips in a manner that made his assistant nervous.  Otero’s unpredictability was well-known, and his wrath legendary.  It was a look his assistant had seen many times and hoped would never be directed at him.  He was emphatically hoping that now.

Otero had no friends.  Only enemies and fearful acquaintances.  Which is how he preferred it.  Everyone nervous and afraid.  Fear was the ultimate motivator.  It stripped the strong of their confidence and made the meek obey.  Otero scoffed at those who claimed power was about money.  True power was about fear.  Power through money was for the weak.  Power through fear was for rulers.

“Why didn’t he tell me himself?”

“H-he’s still trying to reach them, sir.”

Otero stared at him, thinking.  The men his assistant referred to were the men Russo had sent to Florianópolis.  It was a simple job.  Easy for men of their skill.

Miguel Blanco had given him the information he sought in São Paulo.  Much more than he already knew.  But Blanco had already talked to too many people.  He had to be silenced.

More importantly Blanco had killed one of Otero’s partners.  Alves was a competitor –– a ruthless one –– but he was still part of the group.  The echelon.  A fellow oligarch who shared in the control of Brazil and most of South America.  A man with far more wealth than most would ever know, and with it, certain protections.

Otero had warned the man that Blanco, his head of security, could not be trusted.  He wouldn’t listen.  Instead, he trusted the young assistant he was sleeping with far too much.  A common mistake of old, desperate men, clinging to the last remnants of their virility.  It left him open, vulnerable.  And Blanco pounced.

Alves was foolish.  But Blanco was still a dead man the moment he killed his boss.  Now Blanco and his entire family would be made an example of, just like so many before him.  Alves was shrewd.  But Otero was unforgiving.

And then there was Alves’ secret.  He’d gotten close, within grasp of perhaps the greatest discovery of mankind.  Too close, in fact.  In the end, his eagerness had compromised his objectivity.  No, not eagerness.  The man was desperate.  Desperate for it to be true.  Desperate for it to be real.  And when he found out it was everything he’d hoped for, the desperation had blinded him.  It was a mistake Otero would not repeat.

Florianópolis was one of the most desirable places to live in all of Brazil.  Located just over four hundred miles south of São Paulo, the large island of Florianópolis was the Brazilian capital city and held the title for having one of the highest living standards in the country.  With its local population composed mostly of Brazilian and European descent, the lighter subtropical weather made it one of the most sought after cities in which to reside.  Assuming one had the resources, or perhaps had acquired the necessary resources.

Steve Caesare examined the two bodies lying face down.  Both were bound, but only one was still breathing.  The other was dead.  It wasn’t Caesare’s fault.  The idiot wouldn’t stop.  He wouldn’t give up until Caesare had no choice.

He stepped back and leaned against the wall.  If he thought his side hurt before, it was practically screaming after having to drag them both from the front room.

The large closet they were now in wouldn’t keep them from being found.  It would only delay it.  And of course, the one would survive and eventually make it back to Otero.  He hoped by then Blanco’s family would have heeded his warning and fled the country.  He had a feeling the man named Otero wasn’t going to take this well.

Miguel Blanco had been a bastard.   A murderer with little conscience and even less remorse.  Caesare knew that and wouldn’t lose sleep over him being dead.  But in his experience, the families were usually innocent and largely unaware of their father’s or husband’s work when he was away from them.  The family didn’t deserve it.  And Blanco’s family didn’t deserve to be used as Otero’s calling card.

Fortunately, Caesare had the advantage.  At least this time.  The thugs had shown up expecting to find Blanco’s wife and children unsuspecting and defenseless.  Instead they found Steve Caesare.  The timing was lucky but he was sure Otero would eventually find out who he was.  While Caesare caught his breath, his lips curled into a wry grin and he decided to leave the man a message.

He walked forward and pulled up the dead man’s pant leg, revealing a Fallkniven A1 survival knife strapped securely to his calf.  Caesare unclipped the weapon and slid it out, momentarily admiring it.  He then reached down and cut a shape into the back of the man’s brightly colored shirt.  At least they had the sense to dress the part.

If Otero were stupid enough to pursue Caesare, he should at least know who he was dealing with.

He returned the knife and nodded approvingly.  The shape was a trident, the symbol of the U.S. Navy’s Sea, Air, and Land teams –– more commonly known as SEALs.

5

DeeAnn Draper’s office was small and conservatively decorated.  Just a single framed picture on the beige wall and another on her desk were all she had ever bothered to put up.  It was a reflection of both her minimalistic lifestyle as well as the limited amount of time she actually spent in her office.  Chris joked that it eerily resembled an advertisement out of an office supply magazine.  But she did really like it there.  She felt as much at home with Alison’s team as she had working at the Gorilla Foundation.  And what Alison and her team had achieved was simply amazing.

DeeAnn sat in her black chair and scanned the room, now wishing she’d made a little more of an effort to decorate.  But then again, maybe this would make things easier.

She glanced up at the sound of a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened just far enough to allow Lee Kenwood’s young and somewhat handsome face to peek in.

“Oh good, you’re still here.  I saw your light on and thought I’d check.”

DeeAnn grinned.  “Yep.  Still here.  Unfortunately.”

“You got a sec?”

“Sure.”

With that, Lee pushed the door open and stepped inside.  He was holding the latest vest he and Juan had just built.  “Good news, the new vest is ready.”

DeeAnn stood up, grabbing one side of it.  “Lee!  You’re not supposed to be lifting anything heavy.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged.  “They’re feeling a lot better.”

DeeAnn gave him a dubious frown.  “Ribs don’t heal that fast.”  Together they sat it down onto the other half of her desk.  She ran her fingers over the dark nylon and the two large Velcro pockets that wrapped around the waist.  “I’m sorry I broke the last one.”

“It wasn’t your fault.  Besides, it gave us a chance to tweak a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Nothing major.  Just some slight improvements.  More padding around the motherboard.”  He tapped a portion lightly to show her.  “And we also removed some of the material on the back, which should improve the airflow a little.”

“Music to my ears.”  DeeAnn stood the contraption on end and turned it around.  The vest was amazing technologically, but from a non-geek standpoint it was a burden to wear in hot weather.  The humidity in Puerto Rico was already more than she was used to, but it had been almost suffocating in Brazil.  “It feels lighter,” she observed.

“The old one had heavier batteries.”

The original vest had been a big step forward.  Being allowed to remain in the habitat and still have it transmit back and forth to IMIS was huge.  But when Lee and Juan made better versions and included a camera, it was a game changer.

“Thank you, Lee.  I really appreciate it.”

DeeAnn laid the vest back down and noticed he hadn’t said anything.  She looked back up to find him silently staring down at the vest.

“Something on your mind?”

After a moment, he looked back at her.  “Do you have time to talk about something?”

She folded her arms in front of herself.  “Of course.  Is this about that problem with the logs?”

Lee nodded.  “We were talking to Chris about it earlier today and I had a thought.  Something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Okay.”

“So, we’ve talked about the whole communication problem with the speaker.”

“The nonverbal problem.”

“Right.  The system doesn’t have the ability to translate nonverbal communication back through the speaker.  At least it shouldn’t.  So instead of trying to troubleshoot that, it occurred to me that maybe there’s a different answer.  Something that we’re not considering.”

“Like what?”

“Well, initially I thought the log problem existed because IMIS wasn’t translating correctly.  I’m a believer in the fallibility of computers, so I assumed it was a fault somewhere.  But it was translating correctly, and it took me a long time to understand it.”  He blinked, thinking as he spoke.  “What I’m wondering now is whether I’ve made the wrong assumption again.”

“About the speaker?”

“Yes.  I’ve been trying to figure out what happens to the nonverbal cues when they reach the speaker.  The one thing I’ve learned is that language is really kind of…intangible.  And today it suddenly hit me.  What if I’m looking for the wrong thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, assuming this is all still measurable somehow, it would mean that we’re missing something.  Maybe our idea of nonverbal is not correct.  Maybe incomplete.”  Lee took a breath.  “What if IMIS isn’t missing anything…and we are?”

DeeAnn peered at him curiously.  “I get the impression you have a question coming.”

“Yes, I do.” He grinned again.  “You said yourself that primates, particularly gorillas, are very nonverbal communicators.  But to us that usually means physical movement of some kind.  But what if we’re wrong?  What if the nonverbal stuff only explains part of the missing exchange?  What if there is still more verbal communication taking place that we’re not hearing?”

DeeAnn was fascinated.  She remained still, staring at him over the desk.  “You’re talking about frequencies.”

Lee nodded.

“So, you want to know if gorillas can hear frequencies that we can’t.”

“Correct.”

“Something tells me you’ve already done some research.”

“A little.”

DeeAnn smiled broadly.  She was really going to miss these talks with Lee. “Then you probably know the jury is still out.  A lot of the older research suggests that gorillas and humans share the same audio frequencies  But after the gorilla genome was successfully mapped, it revealed differences in the genes tied to hearing, and therefore to communication.”

“So the answer is yes?”

She shook her head.  “Not necessarily.  But it’s widely accepted that humans and gorillas have very different aural environments…so the answer isn’t no, but it also isn’t yes.”

“So nobody knows.”

“Nobody knows.”

“So then…what is your opinion?”

“My opinion?”  She frowned, considering the question.  “Is it possible they can hear things we can’t?  Of course.  A lot of animals can do that.  Are gorillas doing it?  I don’t know.  Maybe.”

“It could explain a lot.  Like how IMIS is able to communicate so well with Dulce through just a speaker.”

DeeAnn glanced down at the vest, her arms still folded in front of her.  “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

***

The programming took almost eleven hours to write and test, leaving Lee precious few hours to rest.  It didn’t matter. He was too excited to sleep.  IMIS was hiding a secret and he was determined to find out what it was.

The problem was that IMIS wasn’t programmed to process communication beyond the frequencies of human hearing.  However, IMIS was programmed to learn artificially; so if it was processing other frequencies, it was doing so by a mandate other than the one laid out in the original computer code.

This also meant that all of the analytical tools were set between twenty hertz to twenty thousand hertz, the range of human hearing.  The dolphin language was similar, except at a very high end where their echolocation was used.  What Lee had spent the night programming was a new instruction set for IMIS, instructing it to include a wider range of speech frequencies in its analytics.  If there was something there, IMIS was now instructed to show it.

DeeAnn was back early in the morning, at a little past six a.m.  She returned with two tall cups of coffee and a bag of donuts, which she wouldn’t touch but Lee loved.

He thanked her and bit into one.  “I think we should be ready soon.”

“Good.  Dulce should be up pretty soon.”  She lowered the cardboard carrier down next to Lee and withdrew one of the cups.  Behind them, Juan burst into the room, causing DeeAnn to jump and nearly spill her coffee.

“What did I miss?!”

“Geez, Juan!”  DeeAnn checked her shirt for any dark spots.  “Some of us are a little on edge here!”

“Sorry.”

Lee grinned behind his own cup.  He set it down and returned to his keyboard.  “Not too much yet.  I’m still compiling.  Did you bring it?”

“Yep.”  Juan reached into his pants pocket and retrieved a long silver tube.

“What is that?”

“A dog whistle.”

“A dog whistle?”

Juan grinned.  “It’s my little sister’s, but it should work.”

“We need to verify this first before we do any tests with Dulce.”  Lee raised the lid on his laptop and opened another audio program.  It looked different, but DeeAnn recognized the familiar meter running from left to right.  After waiting for the program to initialize, Lee spoke into the small microphone located just above his laptop keyboard.  “Testing, testing.”

A yellow line danced up and down as it moved across the screen, showing the waves picked up through the microphone.  “Okay, here’s my voice.  You can see the ranges here, including inflection and volume.  We can also see the wider frequency range here, which is between one thousand and five thousand hertz.  Give or take.  This is the range where human speech is centered.”  Lee backed up his chair.  “Ready, Juan?”

“Yep.”

Lee restarted the recording again and moved out of the way to allow Juan to lean in closer.  He blew through the dog whistle, making a quiet hissing sound.  This time, the sound waves on the graph jumped dramatically.  The peaks and valleys were sharper and traveled well beyond the frequency ranges that Lee had pointed out.  Both the top and bottom areas outside the human ranges displayed colors of yellow, orange, and red, showing the progression away from the narrower human range.

“Wow.  Big difference.”

“And this is what you think IMIS is picking up?”

“Maybe,” Lee shrugged.  “But even if we find it’s picking up a fraction of the extra frequencies, it could be significant.”

“So, now what?”

“Now we need to wait for the compiling to finish.  This was just a simple test through my laptop.  When the code is done, we’ll need to upgrade the monitoring software on IMIS.  Then we give it a whirl.”

DeeAnn smiled excitedly.  She grabbed the new vest and slung it over her shoulder.  “I’ll go get breakfast.”

Breakfast was a four-pound box of celery, kale, and apples.  Dulce had developed a real affinity for apples.  DeeAnn suspected the higher sugar content made apples taste like a dessert to the young gorilla.   In fact, she had become so excited, they were the first thing she searched for in the box of food.  And this morning was no different.

Once DeeAnn was inside the habitat, the three-year-old gorilla came running across a small grassy hill at which point she stopped and hugged the top of DeeAnn’s legs.

Apples apples.

DeeAnn smiled, setting the box down with a thud and standing up.  She watched as Dulce reached in with her lanky brown arms and brought out two apples, one in each hand.  She smiled broadly at DeeAnn with a toothy grin.

“Dessert is last.”

Dulce stopped with a frown before placing them back into the box and picking up a stalk of celery.

The Puerto Rican mornings were gorgeous.  With temperatures routinely in the high sixties and low seventies, the air felt cool and refreshing, offsetting the island’s high humidity.  But the best part was the smell.  Tropical islands had an unmistakable smell of dew in the morning, brought on by overnight moisture on the lush foliage.  With the lightest of breezes, the combination made the mornings smell like dewy sweetness –– it was a smell DeeAnn was going to miss.

Of course, sweetness had another presence in DeeAnn’s mornings which made Dulce’s name so fitting.  She was the most loving, kind creature DeeAnn had ever known, and certainly that she had ever worked with.  She had saved the gorilla at a young age from a horrible existence in Mexico, and they had been inseparable ever since.

Me love mommy.

DeeAnn grinned and playfully ruffled the fur on the back of her neck.  “Mommy loves Dulce.”

She barely noticed anymore as the vest picked up her words, and in less than a second, sent the data to IMIS and back where the large speaker emanated a series of squeals and soft grunts for Dulce.

DeeAnn watched Dulce quickly devour her breakfast, yet when she reached the apples, she purposely slowed down as if savoring them.  A sweet tooth seemed just as popular in gorillas as they were in humans.  DeeAnn was dreading the day Dulce discovered chocolate.

She sat back and continued watching Dulce, then turned and looked up at one of the high-resolution cameras overhead, surrounding the habitat.  She wondered if IMIS was revealing anything interesting to Lee and Juan upstairs.

As expected, Lee and Juan were monitoring all of DeeAnn’s translations with Dulce.  But it took almost a full minute for IMIS to display the frequency data used during the translations.  When the first feedback finally came across Lee’s screen, it did so in a flood of colors.

“Whoa!”

6

Alison Shaw burst into the computer lab and found them all huddled around Lee’s desk.  “Okay, I’m here. What is it?”

DeeAnn, dressed in khaki shorts and a matching shirt, turned around.  “Lee’s a genius, that’s what!”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

He motioned Alison over and pulled out his chair for her.  She crossed the room and sat down, examining the screen.

“Is this audio?”

“It sure is.”

“What does it mean?”

Lee smiled at DeeAnn.

“It’s the problem they’ve been working on.  Lee came to me last night with an idea that we were missing something.”

“It was a problem we couldn’t figure out,” he added.  “No matter how much we dug into the code.  Then it occurred to me that maybe there are more complexities going on that we still don’t know about.”

Alison turned back.  “So, what is this?”

“It’s what IMIS is really hearing.”

“More sounds?”

“More frequencies.  The colors represent the wider bands, much wider than we can hear.”

“What does that mean?  It hears more words than we thought?”

“Maybe.  But I suspect it may be more about tones or inflections.”  He looked to DeeAnn.

“I’m sure it is.  In a lot of languages it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.  We should expect the same pattern with gorillas and other primates.  We knew some of that was in the gesturing and expressions, but I certainly never expected the rest to be in sounds we couldn’t hear.”

Alison looked at her curiously.  “So, primates can hear sounds that we can’t?”

“The designs of our auditory systems are very similar, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they work exactly the same.  Some researchers have suggested that having more advanced brains may have caused us to devolve out of certain basic abilities.  Like the range of our hearing.”

The room fell silent.  It was a powerful thought.  Devolution and evolution happening together.  On a certain level, it made sense.  Everything in life had a balance to it.  Few things could be gained without something also being lost.

“Not to take away from the moment,” Lee said, “but there’s something even more interesting about this.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we think we know how IMIS is truly communicating with Dulce now.  Which is big.  But…” He looked at them with excitement.  “This is not something we programmed IMIS to do –– to listen to such a broad frequency range.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that no one told IMIS to do it.”  Lee smiled, waiting for them to pick up on his suggestion.  Finally, he said it.  “IMIS made the decision.”

At that moment, they all could have heard a pin drop.

“Whoaaa,” Juan whispered.

DeeAnn looked at Lee with wide eyes and tilted her head.  “Are you saying that IMIS is thinking?”

He grinned.  “Thinking, no.  At least not as we understand it.  But the system does employ several algorithms that give it a certain capacity for artificial intelligence.  It’s not thinking…but it is getting smarter at solving problems.”

One floor below, the heavy figure of Bruna Lopez, the Center’s administrative assistant, hurried over the dark tiles which lined the ground floor.  When she reached the bottom of the wide staircase, the admin grasped the railing with her right hand and continued her rush up the stairs.

Once at the top, she immediately covered the short distance to the double metal doors and pushed them open, looking around the room.

“Miss…Alison…”

Alison turned away from the others at Lee’s desk and spotted Bruna in the doorway, breathing heavily.

“Yes, Bruna.  What is it?”

“Someone…is here to see you.  She said…it was urgent.”

Alison turned to DeeAnn with a concerned look.  The last time someone came to see them unannounced things ended very badly.  “Who is it?”

“A woman.  From San Juan.  A Boricua.”

Both women quickly followed Bruna.  She led them back downstairs but stopped short upon reaching the bottom step where they spotted a middle-aged woman curiously looking around their observation area.

When the woman saw Bruna returning, she appeared relieved and quickly closed the distance between herself and the women, staring intently at Alison as she did so.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.  “’I’m sorry.  I was just-”

Bruna was breathing hard again but still managed an irritated glare.  “I told you I would get her.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.”  Alison could see puffiness around the woman’s eyes.  “What can I do for you?”

“I’m very sorry.  I don’t mean any disrespect, but I have to speak with you.”

“About what?”

The woman took a deep breath.  “My name is Lara Santiago.  I've come to ask you for help.  Not for me, for my daughter.”

“Your daughter?”

“Sofia.  She’s eight.  Her class came here recently on a field trip.”  The woman frowned before continuing.  “My daughter couldn’t come.  She…she hasn’t been to school for a long time.  She’s very sick.”

All three women’s faces softened.

Lara pressed her lips together firmly.  She had already cried so much.  But the tears still came, sometimes unexpectedly.  “My daughter has leukemia.  Her friends came to see her recently and told her about their field trip.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Alison said, her voice having dropped to a soft whisper.

The woman forced the next words out.  “She…doesn’t have much time left.”

Alison placed a hand over her mouth and looked at DeeAnn.

“I’m here for her,” the mother continued.  “She was wondering…we were wondering if we could arrange for a visit with your dolphins.”  Lara was clearly struggling now.  “Maybe a private visit?  Sofia’s embarrassed of how she looks now, but she asked to see them…before it’s too late.  If that’s possible.”

Alison dropped her hand and nodded.  “Of course.  Of course it is.  We’d be happy to have her.”

“Thank you.” Lara smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.  “Thank you so much.  Sofia loves dolphins.  She’s wanted to come ever since you and your team arrived, but she’s been slowly getting worse.  She doesn’t have much strength left.  So her father and I are trying to make the rest of her time with us as happy as we can.”

Now all three of the women were near tears.  They stepped in closer while Bruna placed a hand gently on the woman’s arm.

“How soon can you bring Sofia in?”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Not at all.”

“Maybe ten o’clock?”

“That would be fine.  We’ll make sure everything is ready.”

“Thank you so much.  I can’t…”  She stopped herself, unable to finish the sentence.

They each stepped forward and embraced Lara warmly one at a time.  “You tell Sofia that we’ll all be waiting for her.”

Bruna then wrapped an arm around her and gently guided Lara back toward the double doors.

Alison and DeeAnn both looked at each other in silent amazement.  They then glanced up, realizing Lee, Chris, and Juan were standing above them at the top of the stairs.

“I take it you heard all that?”

“We did.” They nodded solemnly.

“Can we count on your help tomorrow then?”

Chris smiled.  “Hell, yes.”

From the inside of the tank, Sally watched Alison and the others speaking.  They were talking quickly and for a long time.  When it was over, the others disappeared, leaving only Alison, who remained staring at her and Dirk.

“Hello, Sally.  Hello, Dirk.”

Sally answered as they both drifted effortlessly toward the tank’s glass wall.  Hello Alison.  How you?

“I’m good.  Thank you.  I need to talk to you about something.”

Outside, the computer beeped with an error when translating the last word.  Alison shrugged.  It didn’t matter.  “I need to talk,” she repeated.  Why IMIS had long been able to translate “need” and not “something” she didn’t understand.  There were still a number of words the system couldn’t figure out and others it could.   Of course now, given what Lee and Juan had discovered, there was no telling how deep IMIS’s translations went.

Yes we talk, answered Dirk.

“A young girl would like to come see you tomorrow.  A child.”  Alison thought for a moment and added, “She’s very sick.”

Why girl sick?

Alison frowned.  She couldn’t think of a way to explain it.  She knew IMIS didn’t have an exact match for the word “sick.”  Instead, for the dolphins, the word IMIS translated it to was closer to “injury” but the context was close enough. “She’s been sick for a long time.”  She hoped that would allow them to understand.

Girl come for talk?

“Yes.  She’s very excited to talk to you and Dirk.”

We like talk her.

“She’s a very special girl.  We want to make her visit special.”

They weren’t sure what Sofia would be able to do, but hopefully, with Dirk and Sally’s help, they were going to give her the experience of a lifetime.  Even for one as short as hers.

7

When Sofia Santiago arrived at a few minutes past ten, everyone was ready, including Dirk and Sally.  They both floated attentively at the end of the tank, watching as the small girl was wheeled in through the double-wide doors by her father.

Sofia looked frail in her chair, leaning slightly and wrapped in a light shawl.  A beautiful pink and purple scarf was wrapped neatly around her head.  Below the scarf, a set of warm brown eyes darted excitedly to Dirk and Sally on the other side of the glass.  Her smile completed the picture of a beautiful young girl fighting bravely against a horrible disease.  A girl who had a sickness, but the sickness clearly did not have her.

Alison and DeeAnn both stood beside the tank, amused that Sofia hadn’t yet noticed them.  It wasn’t until her mother turned the wheelchair and introduced them that the girl’s eyes were peeled away.

“Well, hello there, Sofia.”  Alison reached down and shook her delicate hand.  “My name is Alison Shaw.  We’re so very happy to have you.”

Sofia grinned.  “I saw you on the TV.”

“Is that right?  Is that how you found out about us?”

She nodded proudly.

“And this is my friend DeeAnn.”

“Hello, Sofia,” DeeAnn said, taking the girl’s hand next.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.  We hear you’re crazy about dolphins.  In fact, we have a gift for you.”  DeeAnn brought something out from behind her back and unfolded it.  It was a small T-shirt with a picture of Dirk and Sally on the front.

Sofia smiled and took the shirt with a, “Thank you.”  She turned back to Dirk and Sally who were still floating in front of them.  Her eyes opened wide when Dirk suddenly made a noise and bolted away.  He quickly circled back and swam a tight corkscrew around Sally.

Alison laughed.  “As you can see, Dirk likes to show off a little.”

Sofia watched excitedly from her chair as Dirk swam up and around the tank.  All the while, Sally remained, floating gently in place and watching Sofia.

Alison looked to her father.  “May I?”

Ricardo Santiago stepped out from behind the chair, allowing Alison to take his place.  She leaned down over Sofia’s right shoulder and said, “We have something neat to show you.  Are you ready?”

She grinned shyly and nodded.  With that, Alison pushed the wheelchair forward and headed toward their observation room, the dolphins following alongside them in their long oval tank.  As they moved along the wall, Sofia gingerly reached out and brushed her fingers against the cool glass.  Sally, watching the girl closely from the other side, reached her fin out and brushed the same area of glass.

They reached the double metal doors and DeeAnn slid her card over the sensor.  After she heard the loud click of the door unlocking, DeeAnn pulled one side open and held it for the others.  One by one, they entered the larger room. There, Sofia and her family could see Chris, Lee, and Juan smiling and waiting for them near a large desk.  The desk had been moved closer to the tank and had both a computer and large monitor sitting on top.  Behind them the family noticed the high-definition cameras mounted at various points around the curvature of the tank.  Thick but neatly tied cables ran from the apparatuses and converged into a larger bundle, which then ran the length of the room to the giant IMIS computer system against the far wall.  The rest of the room was composed of more desks holding additional computers and equipment they didn’t recognize.  To the right were two video cameras, side by side and pointed at the tank.  Each at a different angle.  Yet even with the extra desks and equipment, the room gave off an open, comfortable feel.

Chris bent down as they approached.  “Welcome, Sofia.  We’re very excited to have you here.  My name is Chris. This is Lee and Juan.  We all work together here at the center.”  He glanced briefly at Alison before winking at her.  “But Alison here is the boss.”

Sofia giggled.

Together, Chris and Alison eased her chair up to the desk.  “Do you know what we do here that’s so special?”

“You talk to dolphins.”

“That’s right.  Would you like to talk to them?”

“Yes!”

Alison locked one of the wheels in place and bent down on the other side of Sofia.

“They’re very excited to meet you.”

Lee stepped around Alison and slid a small vertical microphone closer to Sofia before hitting a few buttons on the keyboard.  “Just speak right into here.  Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready, Sofia?”

She looked excitedly at her mother.  “What should I say?”

Her mother laughed.  “What happened to the million questions you had in the car?”

With one final keystroke, Lee nodded.  “Okay.  Go ahead.”

Sofia leaned forward.  “Hello?” she asked.  Unsure what to do, she turned back to Alison just as the whistles and clicks emanated through the tank’s underwater speakers.

Sally was still studying her and replied immediately.  Hello.  How you Sofia?

She gasped and looked at her mother again.  “They know my name!”

Alison’s entire team smiled.  There obviously was no translation equivalent for the name Sofia so they made one up.  Similar to their own names, they created a manual translation in the database that was tied to a random set of clicks and whistles –– sounds the dolphins could repeat and IMIS would then associate with “Sofia.” And now, having her so excited that the dolphins knew her name made it more than worth the effort.

Finished with his display, Dirk glided in smoothly and stopped next to Sally.  We happy meet you.

Sofia listened to the mechanized voice of each dolphin and watched their words simultaneously appear on the screen in front of her.  “I’m happy to meet you too.  Do you live here?”

Dirk bobbed his head.  We live ocean.  We come here.  Eat much.

Alison laughed and turned to her parents.  “If you’ve heard teenage boys could eat a lot, you should see a teenage dolphin.”

“They’re teenagers?”

“Yes.  They were mostly grown by the time they came to live with us.  But now they can come and go whenever they like.  One thing we’ve learned is that they definitely don’t like to be in captivity.”

“What’s captivity?”

“It’s when we keep them in the tank all the time.”

Sofia thought a moment, still turned toward Alison.  “Do any animals like it?”

“Mmm...We’re not sure about all animals.  But I doubt it.”

The young girl frowned, but let it go.  She spoke into the microphone again.  “How far can you swim?”

Dirk responded again and thrust his tail forcefully, making a tight circle.  Very far.

Everyone laughed.  Only Lee and Juan noticed the quick change on the computer screen before the sound was heard.  The actual translation was closer to “much far” but IMIS quickly corrected the grammar.  Alison was paying more attention to Sally, who seemed quieter than usual.  She simply remained, floating and studying Sofia in her metal chair.  The girl was now grinning from ear to ear.  “I can’t believe I’m actually talking to dolphins!”

Her mother and father smiled.  Sofia asked another question just as Alison stepped away and pulled her parents to the side.  She lowered her voice.

“Is it possible she can get into the water?”

8

Sofia eyed the clear blue water with a sense of both excitement and nervousness.  It had been a long time since she’d been swimming, and she had been much stronger then.  Her delicate arms were wrapped tightly around her father’s neck as he picked her gently up out of the chair and carried her in his arms.

Inside he was in agony, knowing the number of times he would get to hold Sofia was numbered.  Soon he would yearn to do it just once more.

He loved the feel of her arms around him, clinging as they approached the edge of the tank.  He stepped down into the water and onto a wide, shallow ledge at which point he carefully lowered Sofia onto the concrete lip.  She immediately dropped her hands to balance herself while her father sat next to her, keeping an arm around her tiny waist.

Alison and Chris were also standing on the ledge smiling.  Once Sofia relaxed, Alison took a step forward in the water.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nodded nervously.

“Good.”  Alison softly patted one of Sofia’s hands.  “We’re going to be right here next to you.  Don’t worry.”  Alison gave her another minute to relax before nodding to Lee and Juan, who brought some equipment forward and set it down.

Chris reached out and picked up the clear face mask.  “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a mask,” Sofia answered.

“That’s right.   You said you used one before, right?”

“Yes.”

Chris turned it around so she could get a good look at it.  The mask was a child-sized version of the one they normally used –– Lee and Juan had worked through much of the night to finish it for her.

Sofia took the small mask from Chris and examined it.

“Go ahead and put it over your face.  You’ll see that you can breathe just as good.”

She looked back at the mask and moved the black oxygen hose out of the way.  She pressed it into place and took a deep breath.  “Wow,” she smiled.  Apprehension was turning to curiosity.  She promptly looked up at her mother and giggled.

“You want to dip your face in the water and try it?”

Sofia nodded and dunked herself.  When she came back up, she was laughing from the inside of the glass.

“Just like the ones you wore before, right?”

“Yes.  But nicer!”

Alison laughed with her.  If little Sofia only knew.

Next, Lee and Juan laid a bundle down on the edge of the tank.  It was a small oxygen tank wrapped in a floatation cushion with another dozen feet of tubing coiled on top.  It was a simpler design used by many vacation resorts, allowing a swimmer to breathe underwater without the encumbrance of having to wear heavy scuba gear.  Instead, the tank and regulator would float on the surface above the swimmer and follow as needed.

The team’s plan was to accommodate Sofia in the water at least enough to float with Dirk and Sally.  They weren’t sure how much her illness would allow, but now an excited Alison found herself carefully explaining the precautions they would take to keep Sofia safe.  She also tried to convey how much more exciting it was to both swim and talk with the dolphins at the same time.  If at all possible, she and her team wanted Sofia to have that experience.

When Sofia pulled the mask away, her father looked at her softly.  “Are you ready?”

Sofia glanced around, looking first at Alison and her team.  Then she spotted Dirk and Sally, watching patiently nearby with their heads out of the water.  She nodded at her father. Together they untied the scarf and pulled it gently off her small bald head.

The women continued smiling warmly at her, fighting back a sudden surge of tears.  Without even looking, Alison was sure the guys were doing the same.

Sofia stared up at them nervously with her large eyes.  She was so beautiful.

Chris never skipped a beat.  He lowered his voice just above a whisper.  “Are you ready to put it on?”

She nodded and tilted her head forward, allowing Chris to slide the soft straps over her head, pulling on each one until snug.  He delicately moved his fingers around the edge of the mask, checking the seal.

“How does that feel?”

“Good,” she replied, her voice distorted.

“Still breathing okay?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

Alison watched Chris next pick up a small weight belt.  He snaked it gently around her waist and secured it in front.  The swimsuit Alison had bought for her was a tad loose but still a close enough fit.  Now that Sofia was comfortably breathing inside the mask, Alison reached out for her own gear.

Her Hollis unit was a rebreather.  A redesign of the older scuba units allowing a radically more efficient use of its breathable oxygen.  Even more important was the ability to allow the diver to breathe almost silently underwater, compared to the older regulators which sent out waves of loud bubbles with every breath.  Minimal noise or interference was critical for IMIS’s ability to translate accurately.

Alison smoothly clipped her buckles together in front and grinned at Sofia.  Next, she pulled their waterproof vest over her front, turning so that Chris could secure it around her back.  Finally, she pulled her own mask over the top of her head and wiggled it into place.  She leaned forward, touching her mask gently against Sofia’s.

“Can you hear me?” she called out.

“Yes.”

“Are you scared?”

Sofia shook her head.

“Good,” Alison winked.  “Nervous is okay.  But if you’re scared we won’t do it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Alison took Sofia’s hand and helped her slide down onto her rear in the water.  She then turned to the dolphins.  “Sally.  Dirk.  Can you hear me?”

Their response was immediate.  Yes Alison.

“Remember.  Very slow.  Okay.”

Slow, Sally replied.

Sloooow, Dirk repeated playfully.

Alison smiled and shook her head.  He was such a boy.

Behind her, Dirk and Sally moved in and propped themselves on the tank ledge.  Sofia leaned back apprehensively but slowly reached out to pet them each on the head.  Their skin felt like wet leather.  Smooth but almost spongy.

Sally lowered her nose and nuzzled affectionately against one of Sofia’s skinny legs.

Alison, still holding the child’s other hand, spoke loudly again through her mask.  “Okay, ready?”

All she got was a nervous nod.  With that, Alison fell into the water and quickly bobbed up, floating in front of Sofia.  She gently pulled her small, delicate hand forward until Sophia slid in next to her.

Alison secured the girl with both hands.  “Still okay?”

“Yes!”  Sofia felt light again in the water.  Like she used to before it became too hard to walk.  “I’m floating!”

“Yes, you are.”

Alison guided her slowly away from the edge, watching Dirk and Sally wiggle back into the water.  Together the pair began swirling around them, gently brushing as they passed.

Sofia’s eyes were as wide as she could make them.  She reached out and skimmed fingers over their bodies as they passed.  “WOW!”

“Look under the water.”

Sofia lowered her face beneath the surface to watch the dolphins.  When she lifted her head back up, Alison leaned in and examined the mask.  She needed to check for leaks.  Because what they were about to do was going to feel like magic.

“Okay, Sally.”  Alison rotated Sofia’s frame just as Sally came up smoothly beneath her, and she helped guide the girl’s tiny legs down around Sally’s sides.

“Can you lean forward?”

Sofia complied and instinctively wrapped her arms around Sally.

“Are you ready for a ride, honey?”

Sofia was almost shaking but still managed to nod, even with her mask pressed against the back of Sally’s light gray head.

“Okay, Sally.  Nice and easy.”

Come Sofia.

Sally gave a thrust of her tail and swam forward.  Dirk quickly fell in beside them as Alison latched onto his tail.  Together all four continued across the tank, circling at the far end and slowly returning to where Alison had checked Sofia.

“Still okay?”

“YES!”

“Here comes the best part!”

Alison patted Sally, who then took off again.  Her speed was no faster but this time she ducked a few feet below the surface and swam in a tighter circle.

As the warm water enveloped them both, Sophia heard the sound abruptly disappear into the cool air above them, leaving only Dirk and Sally’s mechanized voices in her ear.

Now okay Sofia?

“Yes, I’m fine!” she replied, still beaming inside the mask.

Faster?  Dirk asked.

“YES!  FASTER!”

The water flow surged faster around them and the pressure increased against their bodies from below, giving Sofia the sensation that she and Sally were flying together.

Sofia felt as happy as she had ever been.

9

Admiral Langford stepped out of the elevator as soon as the metal doors separated.  He turned left and walked briskly down Corridor Nine on the third floor, toward the Pentagon’s “A” ring, avoiding eye contact with two generals approaching from the other direction.

The military was as much about status and rank as any organization on the planet, and the Pentagon served as a prestigious symbol of that system.  A building filled with colonels, admirals, and generals, all of whom were seen as the best the country’s Armed Forces had to offer.  Men who embodied the very image of accomplishment and greatness.

Yet deep down, these same men all shared a common secret.  A dark secret.  A character flaw that few would admire, let alone celebrate.  Each man had long ago sacrificed the priorities of his own life, and those of his family, to attain the unattainable.  Men who helped shape the most powerful government in history, who shaped the very world as much as any politician ever would.  Men who inevitably chose to sacrifice what most of the world would never relinquish.

These men lived in the glow of the most prized possession of all: ultimate power.  The one constant that eventually changed all men before enslaving them.  Power was the greatest of all drugs.  In monarchies, these men were kings.  In Communism, they were dictators.  In republics and democracies, they were politicians and generals.

And Langford was no exception.  His family had sacrificed just like the rest, living most of their lives without a husband or father.  A man who they knew more as an image than a person.  Until he was saved.

It was the accident that changed it all –– collision that suddenly put his teenage daughter into the Intensive Care Unit and a single phone call that shook him free from his enslavement.  That night was a turning point and became his moment of clarity.   For the next month, Langford and his wife rarely left their child’s bedside.  His daughter eventually recovered, but Langford had been reformed.  He remained a patriot, but he was no longer bound by a personal or political agenda.  His agenda now was for his family first and then his country.  And it was also why the double doors to his office read in very simple, and very small lettering: Chairman – Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Langford pushed the right side door open, nodding to Clay and Borger as they both stood up.  They fell into step behind Langford, who paused only briefly to take a small stack of messages from his secretary’s outstretched hand before entering his office.  He closed the door behind them and rounded his desk while his men each took a chair.

Clay could see the consternation on the Admiral’s face.  “Everything okay?”

“No.”

Langford had just returned from his morning security briefing at the White House.  Things were not okay.  In fact, things were unraveling at a frightening pace.  He leaned back into the thick leather chair and leveled his eyes at them.

“Our Chinese friends don’t give up easily.  They’ve dispatched every single ship in the CRS, the first of which should reach Panama by tomorrow morning.”

“Salvage ships?”

“That’s right.”

Clay and Borger looked at each other.  “They’re not going to recover the Bowditch?”

“No,” Langford shook his head.  “They’re coming after the Corvette.  Their warship never made it back to China.”

Now Clay and Borger were genuinely confused.

Langford sighed.  “Two days after the attack on the Bowditch, a large area of debris was spotted off the coast of Rio de Janeiro.  The Brazilians were the first to dispatch a salvage team, who now believes it’s the remains of the Chinese Corvette and the Forel.  It appears both boats were destroyed together.”

Borger was incredulous.  “Wait.  First the Bowditch was sunk by the Russian Forel, then we find out it was really the Chinese?”

“Correct.”

“Then the Russian sub and the Chinese warship are destroyed together?”

Clay raised an eyebrow.  “Was it us?”

His question surprised Langford, nearly making him chuckle.  “No, it wasn’t us.  We had no one that far south.”

“Then who?”

“We believe it was the Chinese.”

“The Chinese?!  The Chinese sank their own ship?”

“We think so.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Borger exclaimed.  “Knowing what was on that Corvette, why on Earth would they sink it?”

Langford glanced at Clay, who was thinking again.  He could almost watch Clay figure it out.

“A coup.”

Langford nodded.  “We think so.”

“A coup?”  Borger looked at Clay.  “Inside China?”

“If the Corvette was sunk by one of their own, it could mean there’s a split inside the government.”

“Maybe within the Politburo,” Langford added.

“Or maybe the cargo wasn’t really on the ship,” Borger said.

Clay shook his head.  “Then they wouldn’t be sending such a large salvage operation.  It’s more likely the ship did have the plants onboard, but for some reason someone else inside their government sank it.”

“Then the question is why.  Why would someone intentionally destroy the greatest discovery of the century?”

“Maybe revenge.”

Clay turned to Langford.  “I don’t think so, sir.  If there is an internal battle going on, both would have to know how valuable the Corvette’s cargo was.”

“So then, they either didn’t understand what exactly was on that warship, or they didn’t care.”

Clay leaned back in his chair.  “But who wouldn’t care about that?”

“Okay,” Borger said, thinking out loud.  “So, for whatever reason, the Chinese decide to blow up their own ship, which is packed full of a plant whose DNA is nothing short of a miracle.  And now they’re sending a salvage team to recover whatever they can.”

“A recovery fleet,” Langford corrected.

“They’re not coming to recover a ship or a sub.”

The other two men looked at Clay.

“They’re coming to find any traces of that cargo.”

“Well, at least if we don’t have it, neither do they.”

Borger gave Clay a nervous look and raised a plain manila folder he had been holding.  “Actually, sir.  About that…”  He leaned forward out of his chair and handed the folder to Langford over the desk.

“What’s this?”

“Pictures, sir.”

Langford opened it and began flipping through several full-size satellite images.  He stopped on one and rotated it sideways.  “Is this Georgetown?”

“Yes, sir.”  Borger scooted forward.  “It’s the airport.  Just a couple hours before the Bowditch was attacked.  This person drove from the Chinese Corvette to the airport where he boarded a Chinese Y-12.”

Langford examined the next photo.  It was zoomed in to reveal more detail.  “What’s in the case?”

Borger took a deep breath.  “Sir, when John and I were aboard the Bowditch, Commander Neely Lawton talked about that plant’s DNA and what made it so valuable.  It wasn’t just its properties and the ability to merge it together with human DNA through a bacteria.  The most amazing thing was how easily it could be extracted with the right equipment.  Something called a torque transducer.  Or a nano-mag for short.”

Langford nodded.  “Go on.”

“We’ve already established that the Chinese Corvette most likely didn’t attack the Bowditch because it couldn’t.  They had to have hollowed the ship out to make enough room for all the material they trucked down from the mountain.”  Borger shrugged.  “So, if they were that prepared, they may very well have had a nano-mag onboard too.”

“And probably had already begun the extraction process,” added Clay.

Langford looked back at the man in the photo.  “And you think that’s what’s in the case, the extracted DNA?”

“More specifically, the bacterial medium.  It’s our best guess.”

“I presume you followed the path of this plane?”

“Yes, sir.  And the man on it.”

“And they ended up where?”

“Beijing.”

Langford inhaled and leaned back again.  “Perfect.”  He ran his finger lightly over his lips, thinking.  “So, if you’re right, and the Chinese already have at least some of the DNA in Beijing…why the giant recovery effort?  Why send virtually every salvage ship they have?”

“The most obvious reason would be because they don’t know they have it,” Clay said.

“They don’t know about the case?”

“It’s possible.  If there really is a splinter within the Politburo’s Standing Committee, one side may not know about the case.

“Seems like a long shot.”

Clay shrugged.  “Not as much of a long shot as finding out the Chinese destroyed their own ship.”

“True.”  Langford turned to Borger.  “So where is this man and his case now?”

“I’m not sure yet.  I’m…going to need to find a way into their systems and see what I can find out.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Borger grinned.  “I’d rather not say.”

Langford’s lip curled.  He was well aware of Borger’s background.  Having worked as a network security expert in his former job, he was known as a “white hat.”  A computer hacker who caught other “black hat” hackers.  It was how they came to hire Borger.  He was the only outside expert who had been able to catch two hackers trying to break into one of the Navy’s computer systems.

Langford hired him on the spot.  Now, sitting across from him, even if Langford wanted to know what Borger had in mind, he sure as hell wouldn’t understand it.

“Fine,” he said, sighing.  He placed his hands on his desk.  “So, it appears we have two problems.  If the Chinese do have the DNA from those plants or their crews turn something up from the Corvette’s wreckage, they could have the means to become the most powerful army on the planet.”

“They would be unstoppable.”

Langford eyed Borger.  “In more ways than one.”

“Well,” Clay spoke up, “there is a third option.”

“Which is?”

“The monkey.”

Langford rubbed his forehead.  “Right.  The monkey.  Have you gotten anything more on our new friend Otero?”

Clay nodded.  “We think he’s going back to finish what Alves started.”

“So if the monkey is still alive, it could be a third source of the DNA.”

“Correct.”

Which means we’d better find it first,” Langford said.  He stared at both men.  “Where’s Caesare?”

Steve Caesare had just reached the single story terminal building of the Mercedita Airport.  With a heavy bag slung over his good side, he climbed two steps and walked through a set of automatic sliding glass doors just beneath the giant earth tone letters reading “Aeropuerto Mercedita.”

It was a small airport whose runway had only recently been expanded to accommodate larger commercial jets.  An expansion that now enabled the airport to process four times as many passengers to Ponce, Puerto Rico’s largest city in its southern region.

However, for Caesare, the airport’s importance was its convenient location, less than fifteen miles from the research center and Alison Shaw’s team.

The air conditioning inside created a light chill on his arms and neck.  As Caesare approached an open row of seats near the back wall, he dropped his bag to the floor with a loud thud.  He eased himself into the black vinyl chair with a quiet groan and peered up at the display hanging overhead.  It listed arrivals and departures in bright green and amber letters.  He found the flight he was looking for and checked his watch.

Less than fifty minutes left.

10

Sofia was beaming from alongside the tank as her father gently wrapped a towel around her wet body.  On her other side, Sophia’s mother Lara slid a pretty scarf back over her head and tied it beneath her chin.  Sophia’s giant smile was pure and beautiful as Alison bent down in front of her.

“Pretty great, huh?”

“Amazing!” Sofia answered excitedly through chattering teeth.  She peered past Alison to Dirk and Sally, watching her with their heads bobbing above the water.  “I can’t believe it!”

Alison winked.  “No other kid has ever done that.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The expression on Sofia’s face was priceless, but one look at her parents made Alison want to cry along with them.  She couldn’t imagine how a parent could deal with losing a child.  How they could even manage to go on, missing such a giant piece of their hearts.  She was honored to have been able to make one of Sofia’s last days truly special, but now that she’d met her, Alison’s heart was already breaking.

She pursed her lips and straightened back up, just as DeeAnn stepped in closer.  “Did you enjoy that, Sofia?”

“More than anything!”

“Excellent.”  DeeAnn glanced at her parents kneeling behind her.   “Do you need to leave or do we have a little more time?”

Lara placed her hands lightly on her daughter’s shoulders.  “How do you feel, honey?”

“Really good.”

Lara nodded.  “We have more time.”

“Good,” DeeAnn smiled.  “So…Sofia, do you like gorillas?”

Dulce sat up straight when she heard the others approaching, a flower stem still gripped between her large teeth.  She immediately sprang up and ran to the glass wall.  She peered down the sloped walkway, trying to see into the darkened tunnel, and began clapping excitedly when she spotted DeeAnn pushing a small girl in a strange metal chair.

Mommy here!  Mommy here!

The words emanated from behind Sofia through the new vest donned by DeeAnn.  Alison and Lara followed behind with the four men in the rear.  And Lee was right.  The new vest was much more comfortable.

DeeAnn stopped near the large clear door and switched places with Alison.  She entered the security code, grabbing the handle when the door gave a loud “click.”  DeeAnn stepped in first as Dulce began jumping up and down.   She raised her hands and lowered them calmly.

“Easy, Dulce.  Easy.”

Dulce stopped with a huge grin.  Dulce easy.

DeeAnn eyed her for a long moment before turning and waving Alison in with the chair.  They stopped less than ten feet inside and spun the chair around.

“Dulce.  This is Sofia.  Sofia, meet Dulce.”

“Hi, Dulce.”

The small dark gorilla stared at Sofia curiously.  She first studied the girl’s body and then her legs, following them down to the footrests of the chair.  Examining the metal frame, Dulce tapped it with a finger.  What this?

Sofia looked up to DeeAnn.  “It’s a chair,” she replied hesitantly.

Her words took just over a second to be transmitted to IMIS before returning in translated form through DeeAnn’s vest speaker.  Dulce listened and seemed to become even more fascinated by it.  Finally, her large hazel eyes traveled back up to Sofia.

You small.

She giggled.  “I am.  But I think I’m still taller than you.”

DeeAnn laughed as Dulce frowned after hearing the translation.  The young gorilla’s protruding lips quickly spread back into a grin and she took Sofia’s hand to shake it.

“She’s been having a lot of fun with handshaking lately,” DeeAnn whispered.  “She’s noticed that people do it a lot when they meet.”

“Oh. Okay.”

When she was done, Dulce took back her hand, but quickly became curious about the colorful scarf over the girl’s head.  She grabbed hold of the chair and raised herself up to get a closer look, then sniffed at the scarf.  Without warning, she grabbed it with one hand and pulled it down.

Sofia jumped in surprise and instinctively reached up, but it was too late.  Instead, all she could do was raise her shoulders in embarrassment.

Dulce had already begun pulling the scarf over her own head when she noticed Sofia’s bald skin on top.  She immediately lowered the scarf and studied it.  DeeAnn was about to interject when Dulce raised her hand and delicately rubbed the top of Sofia's head.

You head same Dulce head.

With a slight grin, Sofia replied, “I think you have a tiny bit more hair.”

Dulce rubbed her own head, checking.  She laughed with a loud whooping sound.  You come play Dulce.

The young gorilla clasped Sofia’s hand and abruptly pulled her forward, almost tugging her out of her chair.

“Whoa, whoa!” exclaimed DeeAnn.  “Dulce go easy, remember?”

She looked up at DeeAnn, puzzled.  Dulce easy.

“Easier.”

Sofia spoke up.  “What do you want to play, Dulce?”

Check.

“Check?  What’s-” Sofia started to ask, but stopped when she spotted an oversized checkerboard sitting idly in the shade of a Rosewood tree, one of the many native African plants in the habitat.

“Oh.  You mean checkers!”

Dulce nodded and pulled again, more gently.

“Okay, hold on,” DeeAnn said.  “We’ll move her.”  She helped Alison move the chair forward over the rough ground and leaned in to tell Sofia something as they moved across the short grass.

“Don’t let her cuteness fool you,” she said with a wink.  “Sometimes she cheats.”

“Really?”

“Well, it’s not cheating to her.  She’s playing.  But it may not be the same game you think you’re playing.”

They reached a large, square wooden box with red and black squares painted neatly on top.  Round circular chips were also painted and strewn around the board.  Sofia watched in amazement as Dulce carefully retrieved the pieces and grouped them into separate piles.

Chris Ramirez stood off to the side, watching with the others.  His specialty was marine and aquatic life, but he found himself constantly fascinated watching DeeAnn’s work with Dulce. The young gorilla was adorable but even more than that, she moved in ways that were just so...human.  Of course, DeeAnn had explained how very similar primate and human DNA were, but he was sure there was something else.  Apes moving similarly were one thing, but there was definitely something else.  Something he hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on, until now.

Lee’s discovery of the extra frequencies prompted Chris to rethink his many conversations with Alison about a certain cultural element which seemed to be missing in these translations.  Something that suggested another level of connection.  But now, watching Dulce again, the idea suddenly crystallized.  It wasn’t just the movements of gorillas in general.  He’d observed other primates many times before.  Their actions were similar to humans but not exactly the same.  With Dulce, her motions were very similar to their own.  So close, in fact, that some of her gestures looked almost identical to a human child.  And naturally the specific difference with Dulce was a superior form of communication.  Standing there in the habitat, it finally hit Chris.  Maybe what made humans human, was not just DNA.  Maybe some of that humanity was inside the communication itself.

He continued watching Dulce and Sofia with a smile on his face, quietly pondering whether IMIS would ever discover deeper secrets within the communication of humans themselves.

He blinked and returned his focus to Dulce, who was studying the board carefully and examining every chip.  Finally, she reached out and placed her chip on a new red square two spaces up.

Sofia wrinkled her brow and looked at DeeAnn again.  “Is that allowed?”

“I usually just go with it.”

Sofia shrugged and reached forward, moving her own piece.

For the next thirty minutes, the two played every game Dulce had in the habitat, some twice.  Eventually, Lee and Juan excused themselves to head back to the lab.  The rest continued watching in amusement, but it was DeeAnn who was truly surprised.  Dulce could be rather reckless when she played, especially given her growing level of strength.  But not once had her recklessness come out with Sofia.  She was as gentle as DeeAnn had ever seen her.  As if she was worried about the girl.

Dulce spontaneously looked up at DeeAnn from where the two were playing and said a single word.

Friend.

***

DeeAnn smiled at Alison and eased the office door closed behind her.  Alison turned to sit on the edge of her desk and folded her arms.  She was beaming.

“That…was amazing!”

“It certainly was.”

“Did you see Sofia’s face when they left?  She couldn’t stop smiling!”

DeeAnn laughed.  “Pure happiness.  You really did something incredible there, Ali.”

“We,” Alison corrected.

“Okay, we did something incredible.”

She took a deep breath and turned to stare out the window.  “God, it just felt so good to do that for her.  To give her something really special.  To make a difference…”

DeeAnn tilted her head when Alison trailed off.  “You mean before it’s too late.”

“Yes,” she replied, deflating.  “Before it’s too late.”  Her excitement was quickly tempered with the painful realization that Sofia was close to the end of her life.   It wasn’t fair.  It just wasn’t fair at all.

“What if…what if we could do this for other kids?” Alison’s eyes glanced back up, searching DeeAnn’s for her reaction.

“Now that would be something.”  DeeAnn couldn’t tell whether Alison was using the word “we” intentionally.  Was Alison subtly trying to coax her to stay?

“It’s funny,” DeeAnn said.  “When I first got here, I had no idea what IMIS would be able to do.  It’s just a computer.  But it's connecting us in ways I don’t think any of us could have imagined.”

Alison nodded.  “Did I ever tell you that when IBM came to us with the idea of IMIS, I never thought it would work?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I had no idea how far the capabilities of these supercomputers had come.  I thought they were just used for beating us at chess and stuff.”

DeeAnn laughed.  “The irony is that in some ways I think it may just teach us how to be better humans.  It sure did today.”

“Who would have thought, right?”

“Just don’t tell Lee I said that.”

As Alison began to speak, they were suddenly interrupted.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

They both turned to see Steve Caesare’s tanned and handsome face peering in through the door.

“Steve?!”  Alison’s eyes widened.  “What are you doing here?”

He smiled and pushed the door open, stepping inside.  “Ah, I was in the neighborhood.”  He noticed the slight flush in Alison’s face.  “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no.  Just an emotional day.  Come on in.”

She rose from her desk and covered the distance to give him a hug.  Caesare then turned to DeeAnn.  “How are you, Dee?”

DeeAnn gave him a friendly smirk.  She hated that nickname, and he knew it.  She hugged him and stepped back.  “To what do we owe this surprise?”

Caesare grinned.  He was glad their relationship hadn’t changed, even after what she’d been through.  “I was just flying through,” he said with a shrug.  “Thought I’d stop by to visit two of my favorite gals.”

Alison looked suspiciously at DeeAnn.  Stopping by wasn’t something a person did easily from an airplane.  “I see you’ve shaved off your mustache.  Trying to impress anyone?”

Trying to blend in, actually.  He chuckled and turned to DeeAnn.  “How’s Dulce?”

“Good.  Bouncing back faster than I expected.”

“And how about you?”

She frowned, nervously.  “I’m a bit slower.”

Caesare simply nodded.  “And how about the guys?”

“Pretty good.  They’re all here if you want to stop by the lab.”

“I will.”  He looked around the room, decorated with two large Wyland prints and a bookshelf beneath the window.  When his focus came back to Alison and DeeAnn, both women were staring at him questioningly.  “What?”

DeeAnn spoke to Alison without looking away.  “I sense bad news coming.”

“Bad news?  From me?  Never.”

“You’ve never come here alone before, Steve.”

Neither woman was buying it.  “Fine,” he relented.  “I came here to talk to you two.  And…more specifically, to Dee.”

“About what?”

Caesare dropped the act but kept a trace of the grin.  “Well, we have a wee bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

He crossed his arms, trying to ignore a sudden spike of pain in his side.  “It’s about our old friend, Mateus Alves.”

DeeAnn raised her brow curiously.  “I thought he was dead.”

“He is.  And so is his head of security, Miguel Blanco.”

“You found him?”

“I did.”

DeeAnn stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then shrugged.  “So he’s dead.  Why should I care?”

“Normally I’d say you shouldn’t.  But he was murdered yesterday morning.  By someone who we think knew Alves pretty well.”

“An eye for an eye, I guess.”

Caesare glanced at Alison, who was watching DeeAnn.  Blanco had nearly killed DeeAnn, and Alves had been planning to.  She didn’t care what happened to either of them.  But she couldn’t hide her surprise either, no matter how hard she tried.

“Blanco died after being tortured.  By someone who wanted to know everything that happened up on that mountain, including who was there.”

That got both of the women’s attention.

“What does that mean?”

“He knows what Mateus Alves was after.  He knows how he died, and where.  He probably also knows about you and Dulce, and that monkey, Dexter.  We think he knows just about everything, and we think he’s going back to find what Alves couldn’t.”

The first signs of concern appeared on DeeAnn’s face.  “Dulce and I aren’t in danger, are we?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.  So why do we even care?”

“Because if he finds that monkey, I think we all know what’s going to happen.”

DeeAnn stared at him, but said nothing.  What happened to the damn monkey wasn’t her problem.  She couldn’t save it –– she knew that now.   But her brush with death had woken her up to the ludicrousness of what she thought she could do.  It also left her with a very real appreciation of the value of life.  Life was precious.  And she only had one shot at it.  She was no longer interested in sacrificing hers for some hopeful ideology.

“I don’t care what happens.”

Caesare glanced to Alison and back.  “Well, that may be.  But that’s not what I meant.  Alves was a fanatic, obsessed with the idea of immortality.  And now that we know DNA can be passed between species, what do you think is going to happen if this new guy gets a hold of that monkey’s DNA?”  Caesare took a small step closer to her.  “Alves came damn close, and believe me, DeeAnn.  Alves was bad.  But this guy is a whole lot worse.  Blanco and his girlfriend were tortured and literally beaten to death.  For answers.  What do you think happens if someone like that figures out how to outlive all of us?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Is it?”

“I’m not stupid, Steven.  It’s not that easy to transfer DNA.”

“It can be done.”

Something on Caesare’s face made her halt her reply in mid-sentence.  Her eyes narrowed and she turned to Alison.  “You know something.”

She nodded.

“What?”

“Steve’s right.  It can be done.  We saw it, on the Bowditch.”

“The ship that sank?”

“Yes.”

DeeAnn was quiet for a moment.  “It doesn’t matter.  This guy will never find a single monkey on an entire mountain.  Dexter’s probably already dead anyway.  Even if he’s not, it would take months, maybe years, to find him.”

“Not with Dulce’s help.”

DeeAnn’s eye widened and she shook her head.  “No!  I can’t do that to her.  I won’t.  You don’t know what was happening to her up there.  She may be better now, but if she melts down again…a manic gorilla who’s twice as strong as you would be the last thing you want on your hands.  Believe me.  We can’t risk that again.”

“Not even for an all-expense paid trip to the rainforest?”

DeeAnn was not amused.

“Then how about a fancy medal from the President?”

“The answer is no.”

Caesare’s smile faded.  “Okay, look.  The truth is we need your help.  We need you and Dulce to help us find the monkey.  To get in and out, quickly.”

“Who’s we?”

He didn’t answer immediately.  Instead, he looked at them both and then took a few steps back to the door.  He opened it, leaned outside, and motioned his head. Steve stepped back, holding the door open.

A moment later, three men appeared in the doorway and one by one stepped into Alison’s office.  All three were dressed in casual clothes but sported hardened, chiseled faces.

“I’d like you to meet my friends: Officers Corso, Anderson, and Tiewater.”

She looked them over with her arms still crossed in front of her.  “Well, at least you’re not dumb enough to go alone this time.”  DeeAnn immediately regretted her statement the moment she said it.  If Caesare hadn’t gone alone last time, she wouldn’t still be alive.  It was a stupid thing to say.

Caesare let it go.  She’d gone through enough trauma.  Taken advantage of by both Alves and Blanco on what was supposed to be a mission of goodwill, she was literally staring down the barrel of a gun by the time Caesare got to her.  She had every right not to want to go back.  But they needed her and Dulce, badly.

Neither Corso, Anderson, nor Tiewater replied or even moved.  What DeeAnn Draper didn’t know was that these three men were handpicked from three of the best Navy SEAL Special Warfare teams on the East Coast.  And they were now tasked with safely accompanying Caesare, DeeAnn, and Dulce back into the jungle –– four members, including Caesare, who could protect them and still maintain a small, nimble, and fast group.  From the insertion to the extraction, the priority was to get in and back out before Otero and his men.  And there wasn’t a lot of time.

Alison remained quiet and watched DeeAnn, standing strong in front of all four men.  Their presence and stone like expressions exuded a feeling of strength throughout the room.  She was sure it was supposed to be reassuring, not intimidating, but it was both.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Steven,” DeeAnn said.  “And I applaud your courage.  But I don’t share it.  I came as close to death as I ever want to be, for a long time.  I’m not a soldier.  I’m a scientist.  Fearlessness is not one of my strengths.  Dulce may have gotten over it, but I haven’t.  I don’t know if I ever will.”  She glanced briefly at the other men.  “I’m sorry.”

Caesare frowned.  “This isn’t about fearlessness, DeeAnn.  Or bravado.  This is bigger than you and me.  It’s bigger than all of us.  This is about the world being a much more frightening place to live in tomorrow if we don’t do something today.  And every generation after us will have to pay the price.  The price of not stopping this while we could.”

DeeAnn stared at him, considering his words.  To her, it didn’t matter what happened today.  There was so much evil in the world.  So much apathy.  It was everywhere and the world was going to end up in a bad place regardless.  Maybe this discovery would hasten it, or maybe it wouldn’t, but either way she was sure that in the end things would end up the same.  She wasn’t ready to trade her life, or Dulce’s, for a bunch of egotistical men and governments who would keep fighting with each other long after she was gone.  Those men didn’t care about a brighter future for everyone else.  They only cared about a better today for themselves.  For their secret, corrupt, elitist clubs that would do anything they could to survive.  And to rule.  Men like Caesare and his friends might be genuinely concerned about the future, but the men they served were not.

She slowly shook her head again.  “Sorry, this is not my fight.  I paid my dues, and then some.  DNA or no DNA, I don’t believe anything is going to change.  Not the people, the politics, and certainly not the system.  If we were all in this to make life better for everyone, that might be one thing.  But this is just a game.  Nothing will change.  It will always be played by people who have never played by the rules and who now want to change the game itself.  I don’t think they’ll be able to, but I’m not willing to die just to find out. ”

Caesare inhaled and finally nodded.  The last thing he wanted to do was to force her to come.  It wouldn’t be all that different from what happened to her the first time.

He moved slowly, and as he turned, he looked to Alison, who was still watching them both.  She and Caesare knew something DeeAnn didn’t.  Something much bigger than trying to find a monkey.  Something only he, Alison, and two other people knew and had sworn themselves to secrecy.

Caesare turned to Corso, Anderson, and Tiewater and motioned back toward the door.  “Give us a minute, fellas.”

One by one, the men turned for the door.

When it clicked shut, Caesare looked at Alison.

“Tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Alison turned to her friend solemnly.  “There’s more.”

“More what?”

“There’s more to the story.  About what we found on top of that mountain.”

DeeAnn’s eyes moved back and forth between them.  “You mean when you were outside.”

“Yes.”

She knew what Alison was referring to.  She was on the helicopter too, with Dulce.  But she hadn’t wanted to know what was outside or what it was they found.  Dulce had already come frighteningly close to having a complete breakdown, as had DeeAnn.  The truth was she didn’t want to go outside.  She was done.  Finished.  They had survived and all she wanted to do from that moment was to go home.  To get home and start over.

DeeAnn shook her head.  “I don’t want to know.”

Alison glanced at Caesare before replying.  “I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

Alison straightened from the edge of her desk.  “There’s more to this than you realize, DeeAnn, and it’s the reason Steve’s going back.  It’s not just about the monkey or its DNA.”

“No!  Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.  I don’t want to know.”  She looked at both of them in anger.  “This isn’t my problem.  Find someone else!”

“This could turn out bad, DeeAnn.  Really, really bad.  Not just for those at the top, but for everyone.”

That instantly stopped DeeAnn’s head shaking.  “I already tried to help.  I did!  And what did it get me?  Nightmares, that’s what!  I’m lucky if I sleep three hours a night.  You know why?  Because up there, for the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly helpless!  They were about to kill me and dump my body, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it!”

She looked at Caesare who remained quiet.  “If it weren’t for you, Steve, I would be dead.  Dead.  Right now!  I will never forget what you did.  Ever.  But there is no way I’m going to put myself in a position where that can happen again.  I don’t care how many men you bring.  Bring them, bring the Marines too, bring all of them, and I still wouldn’t go back!  I’ve had enough fear to last me a lifetime.  I sure as hell don’t need anymore.”

DeeAnn could no longer stop the tears.  She quit talking and looked for an exit.  With a sudden burst, she ran past Caesare, flung the door open, and rushed out.

Caesare emerged behind her and watched as DeeAnn disappeared down the stairs at the end of the hall.  Once she was out of sight, he turned to the other men standing behind him.

Tiewater raised an eyebrow.  “That didn’t appear to go very well.”

11

The small, white Ming Dynasty vase smashed against the wall with the force and sound of a small explosion, breaking into hundreds of pieces as it fell onto the plush carpet.   Tiago Otero was furious.  His eyes blazed as he looked for something else to throw but found nothing within reach.

He cursed repeatedly and glared back at Lieutenant Samuel Russo, the head of his own security, and the man delivering the news about his men.  One was dead and the other hospitalized.  They were instructed to burn the house down with Blanco’s dead family inside.  But Russo’s men had failed miserably.  Instead, they found the house virtually empty and someone waiting for them.

It was worse than failure, it was humiliating.  Now people would know that it was Otero who had been taught the lesson –– direct challenge to his power and influence over all of Brazil.  A mockery.

With lips snarling, Otero looked down at the table and the cut fabric Russo had laid upon it.  “What is this?!”

“A sign.”

“A sign of what?!”

“Of who did this.  It’s in the shape of a trident.  The symbol used for the U.S. Navy SEALs.”

His eyes shot back to Russo.  “The U.S. did this?”

“It would appear so.”

Otero’s gaze fell back to the shirt, blinking.  “Why would Blanco be involved with the U.S.?  What did they have to do with anything?”  After considering the possibility, he finally shook his head, sneering.  “It’s a prank.  A diversion.  Whoever did this wanted us to think it was the Americans.  But they’d just as soon kill someone like Blanco as I would.”

Russo stared at him over the table.  “Not his family.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Over the years, Otero had become familiar with many of the C.I.A.’s escapades.  They were as ruthless as anyone.  They simply made it appear as though it was someone else.  But the Americans would never point the finger at themselves.  Would they?

His eyes narrowed.  “Find out who it was.  Now.  No matter how you find them, I want to know who did this!”

“I will.”

Otero clenched his jaw and bared his teeth.  He would track down who did it, who had publicly insulted him.  And when he did, that man would find out that there were far worse things than letting some worthless family perish.

He waved Russo away and waited until he left the room.  Otero then turned and walked angrily through the room to his study.  Lined floor to ceiling with rare and expensive books, he continued to the center of the room where a round table sat.  It was covered with a giant map of Brazil and the entire South American continent.  Centered on the country’s highest mountain range called Acarai, stood the range’s highest and still unnamed peak.

He and his men were going to uncover its secret.  Part of the Brazilian Army was coming with him and they weren’t leaving until Otero knew everything, including what the Chinese were after.

It was a question he would soon regret asking.

12

Otero’s impending regret would come from a man named Xinzhen, who stood motionless in the enormous pavilion atop the China Club hotel.  Nestled in the traditional hutong area and well-known as one of Beijing’s most lavish hotels, the China Club sprawled out over ten thousand square meters and was composed of several Qing Dynasty pavilions and secluded courtyards.

Xinzhen stood solemnly, less than a meter from the thick glass wall, and peered out at the smog covered city of Beijing.  The day was clearer than expected with only a thin film of pollution obstructing the view.

He scanned the light gray cityscape, noting the eerie shadows belonging to dozens of cranes with their arms rising into the air, even now.  They would be gone soon but for now they remained, serving as ghostly remnants of the largest bubble in human history.  A level of greatness and grueling achievement the world would not see again for hundreds of years.  The world where for decades demand had radically outpaced the supply of natural resources, only to leave the most immense economic vacuum imaginable.

Reality was starting to set in, and like all economic bubbles before it, China’s delusion was now imploding in on itself.  Bursting, and set to leave a wave of destruction in its wake.  It was little comfort for Xinzhen knowing his country was not alone.  Japan, Europe, Britain, and even the U.S., were all on their own precipice.  They had each lost touch with economic reality, but none had matched the sheer insanity of mainland China.  Massive amounts of mal-investment had created not just “bridges to nowhere,” but entire ghost cities able to house more than a hundred thousand residents each.  Cities which still remained completely empty as though life had simply vanished from within.  Built out of a construction mania and funded by government money printing, the looming destruction brought on by China’s frenzy would be epic in every sense of the word.

As Xinzhen studied the city from his pavilion, he tried to imagine what it would look like when the money, and more importantly the confidence, was gone.  When all of its citizens rushed for the proverbial “exit” at once.

The collapses of other nations like Argentina and Brazil were already underway and serving as examples of what was to come.  Mass shortages of food, energy, and basic staples were already rampant with citizens bartering for any amounts they could find.  Pianos traded for crates of toilet paper and televisions traded for personal hygiene products were already common.  The shortages in China were going to be just as bad, if not worse.

Xinzhen took a deep breath.  As bad as things were about to become, he cared surprisingly little.  As part of the Politburo Standing Committee of the Communist Party of China, he and the other six members had long been protected by secret plans for their evacuation and survival.  They would be whisked out of the city centers to the majestic mountains of Sihanba far to the north, where vast bunkers had been constructed and stockpiled.  This would allow China’s elite to survive safely for decades…if only they could live that long.

If the impossible were to be achieved, it had to be done now.  Before the technical capability was lost forever.  And to do it, Xinzhen was prepared to move Heaven and Earth.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to find his secretary ushering in the man he had been waiting for.  Xinzhen watched the man approach through the suite’s grand entryway and stop in the middle of the expansive room.  He stood erect as Xinzhen stepped away from the window and crossed the room to meet him, hands still behind his back.

“Agent Qin.”

Li Qin bowed slightly.  “Your Eminence.  I am honored in your presence.”

Normally Xinzhen would have left him standing, but instead motioned for the man to join him. He then lowered himself onto the wide circular couch.

He watched Qin sit and stared at him.  They had never met before, but Xinzhen was well aware of the man’s reputation.  As part of the Ministry of State Security agency, Qin was one of the very best the Counterintelligence Bureau had ever seen.  He had a keen intellect and an even keener talent for finding those who did not want to be found.  And in some cases, those who couldn’t be found by anyone else.  Qin’s latest success had been the attainment of details behind China’s recent presidential scandal –– one that allowed the committee to oust the one man who dared challenge them, and with little resistance.  A solution much preferred over normal methods, which would only attract more attention for the committee.  The last thing any of them needed before a revolution.

“Your patriotic work behind Bo Xilai’s treachery has been noticed.  And appreciated.”

Qin bowed again.  “Thank you.  You are very kind.”  He was not surprised by the invitation.  He’d found more than what he was looking for with Bo Xilai, a man who had risen through the ranks of the Communist Party and been considered a candidate for the next seat in the Standing Committee.  But Bo’s corruption ran deep, much deeper than any of them knew.  So deep were his indiscretions that Bo had found himself stripped of his titles, assets, and freedom in less than a month.

Xinzhen leaned back gently into the plush couch.  “Does it surprise you that I am alone?”

Qin grinned respectfully.  “Nothing surprises me, Your Eminence.”

Xinzhen smiled in return.  “Of course.  Do you know why you’re here?”

“I have only guesses.”

“Humor me.”

Qin briefly scanned the room without moving his head.  “The relaxation of security suggests this is not disciplinary related.  But the fact that you are alone makes it unlikely to be a congratulatory acknowledgment either.  Nor are we meeting in a People’s sanctioned location.  I suspect Your Eminence is preparing to assign me a private task of some kind.”

Xinzhen continued observing the man.  Qin was purposely meeting his eyes across the table, barely blinking.  Something that few would do with the head of the Committee and arguably the most powerful person in China.  The man was unafraid, something for which he was known.  He was also willing to do whatever it took to succeed.  A trait not uncommon within the higher levels of China’s government, but eventually most men had their boundaries.  According to his sources, Qin had none.

“What do you know about General Wei?”

If Qin was surprised, he showed no indication.

“General Wei.  Highly decorated.  Perfect service record over a thirty-year career.  A model leader.  And a dead one.  By suicide two weeks ago.”

“Why did he commit suicide?”

Qin replied carefully.  “I’m sure I do not know.”

A trace of Xinzhen’s grin returned.  “Of course.”  He paused a moment.  “Why do you think he killed himself?”

“It is rumored that he was given an important task by the Committee and failed.”

Failed was an understatement.  “What do you know of his task?”

“Only that it was in South America.  I do not know of what or why.  No one does,” he added.

“The truth is, General Wei failed his people worse than any soldier in the history of our great country.  A man who will be known as China’s greatest traitor.”

Qin tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

“Wei is the epitome of everything that is wrong with the country and why its demise is assured.  In our darkest hour, he was given the highest honor and the most critical mission in China’s history.  Yet, instead of honor, he chose secrecy and betrayal of his people and his country.  He acted like a capitalist.  His treachery has cost our country dearly.  He murdered his own men and destroyed our ships.  He deceived us from the beginning, then took his own life to keep the truth from his superiors.  And still we do not know why.”

Xinzhen took a breath before continuing. “Your talents and your service to China have been exceptionally faithful.  You are highly trusted as a man who knows what it takes to maintain that trust.  For these reasons, I have chosen you.”

Qin dropped his head.  “Thank you, Your Eminence.  I am deeply grateful for your words.  It would be my honor to serve you in whatever manner I can.”

“Excellent.”  Xinzhen stared across the small space with his powerful dark eyes.  “You are to find out why.  Why Wei chose to desert his country, and most importantly, what he was hiding.  What he hides still in death.”

“It will be done, My Eminence.  With all of my ability.”

Xinzhen nodded approvingly.  “And your communication is to be with me, and me alone.”

***

Qin exited the elevator at the bottom floor.  Without a word, he crossed over the marble flooring through the lobby and left the hotel, emerging back into the stale, thick air.  The tops of the skyscrapers disappeared into the sickly gray sky above, giving them an eerie appearance.

The valet approached with Qin’s car, a black BMW M6, and quickly jumped out, holding the door open.  Once inside, Qin turned up the air conditioner to purify the air inside.  The smog was better today, but he could still taste a trace of the metallic sourness on his tongue.

Once beyond the hotel grounds, he merged with the heavier traffic and headed east toward Xinhua, recounting the details of the meeting.  Xinzhen’s posture had shown subtle signs of nervousness.  And his seething for General Wei seemed somehow exaggerated.  Qin knew of Wei.  He also knew that Wei had been one of the least politically aligned military figures in the army.

He decided he was more surprised that Wei had somehow turned the tables on the Committee than he was over Wei’s suicide.  Wei was a smart man, which meant he clearly would have understood that crossing the Committee would only be done by someone who did not fear retribution.

Qin thought again about the oddness in the old man’s seeming hatred for Wei.  Particularly when considering that Xinzhen didn’t know what the General had been hiding.

In the penthouse, Xinzhen was back at the window gazing outward again.  There wasn’t much time left.  The government’s façade was beginning to crumble quickly now.  The propaganda and misinformation were wearing thin and would only last so long.  The real question was whether someone like Qin would turn something up soon enough.  And whether he could indeed be trusted.

But Xinzhen had little choice.  He had to take a chance, especially now.  The price was simply too high, and as much as he would like to fully trust Qin, he couldn’t.  He had to assume that Qin may already be loyal to one of the other Committee members, and if so, he wondered whether they somehow knew more than Xinzhen did.

It was why he didn’t tell Qin everything, including the sinking of the American research vessel or the details around the destruction of their own warship.

The Committee had potentially started a war with the United States in order for their ship to escape, but it was Wei who stunned them all by suddenly sinking both their ship and its precious cargo.

Nothing made sense.  Why did Wei do it?  And more importantly…why hadn’t the Americans said a word about the attack on their ship?

13

Langford looked around the table and sighed.  The “war room” at the White House was in complete disarray and the situation was deteriorating rapidly.  For those who believed the planning around potential military excursions was always careful and deliberate, in this case, they could not have been more wrong.

Langford watched Fred Collier, the new Chief of Naval Operations, show his frustration as he insisted that they were losing the opportunity for a swift and decisive counterattack over the loss of the Bowditch and its men.  He pounded the table again, this time harder.  Next to him, and not surprisingly, Sam Johnston, the Commandant of the Marine Corps, was in complete agreement.

Across the dark walnut table, however, Merl Miller, the Secretary of Defense, was not so sure.  He and President Carr sat side by side, listening to the lengthening outbursts of both military heads.

Collier tried to regain his composure.  “What I’m saying is that the political ramifications of us not acting are far greater than those if we do.  They have directly challenged the sovereign power of the United States, and unless we show them clearly and definitively the repercussions of such an attack, our reputation and our resolve will be questioned by more than just China! Showing weakness now threatens the loss of our military supremacy.  To other nations, this delay won’t look like deliberation, it will look like fear!”

He lowered both hands onto the table before continuing.  “We know it was the Chinese and we can prove it!  We have to release the information now before they begin distancing themselves with propaganda!”

“Agreed,” added Johnston.  “The sooner we get NATO behind us, the better.  China is going to spin the hell out of this.  We’ve waited too long already.”

“Too long?” asked President Carr.  “Too long?  Do I need to remind everyone here that just days ago we thought we had been attacked by the Russians?!”  He looked around the table.  “I’d say it’s a damn good thing we did wait too long.”

“Mr. President,” Collier replied, jabbing the table with his finger.  “It was my men who verified the Comp-B signature.  There is no doubt in my mind it’s the Chinese.  Zero!”

Carr stared intently at his Naval Chief.  “Okay, let’s assume it is.  Tell me, Admiral, how exactly does your recommended response differ now that it’s the Chinese and not the Russians?”

The question was like a dagger through Collier’s argument.  There was no difference, and everyone at the table knew it.

“I hope I’m not the only one at the table that remembers our foreign policy with China is different than with Russia.”

Collier took a deep breath.  “Mr. President, may I point out that the relationship between Russia and China continues to grow stronger by the day?  It won’t be long before there is no difference in our policies.”

“Except being twice as big,” Miller smirked.

Collier slapped the table.  “Which only underscores the need to respond now.”

Johnston nodded his head.  “Agreed.  The last thing we need is this turning into another mess.”

“Do you know what you’re saying?!” responded Miller in a raised voice.  “One counter response after another, until we’re on the brink of war.  Where do you think this leads if this time we start with a counterattack?!”

“Please,” Collier scoffed, “this is different.  The Chinese have screwed up and they know it.  They’ll back down when everyone else knows it too.”

“And what if they don’t?” asked Carr.  “What if they raise the stakes instead?  The Russians didn’t back down and we had all of Europe behind us.  What if the Chinese don’t admit responsibility or back down?  Are you suggesting we fight two wars?”

“I’m suggesting we won’t have to.”

Listening from the giant screen at the other end of the table, the Air Force Chief shook his head.  “Trying to predict the actions of the Chinese is damn dangerous.  We’ve been wrong before, and more than once.”

Collier looked up at the screen.  “There’s a big difference between predicting monetary policy and military strategy, General.”

“Is there?” Langford asked.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Langford stared back at Collier.  “I don’t think we’re in a position to predict anything the Chinese might do.”  He turned toward Carr.  “With all due respect, Mr. President, I think we’re losing sight here.”

“Explain.”

“We’re thinking almost exclusively in terms of retaliation.  But I think we would be better served to think more about their intent.  Remember, their Corvette ship was trying to leave port and we were about to ram the damn thing.  But it’s likely the Corvette couldn’t have done anything even if it wanted to.  Their hidden sub fired on the Bowditch defensively.  If it were an offensive attack, they could have done it sooner, not at the last second.  But they were there to make sure the Corvette warship made it out in one piece because of what it was carrying.”

Langford paused, making eye contact with everyone.  “In fact, I’m not convinced they intended to attack the Bowditch until they had no choice.  And if that’s true, this posturing is going to get us nowhere.  It’s a sideshow with our only options being more dangerous escalations.”

Langford continued.  “What this is really about is that cargo.  We already know what was in those plants.  So unless the Chinese intended to attack all along, it was simply the value of their cargo that left them no choice but to fight their way out.  The fact that their sub hadn’t moved means they were prepared for more than one scenario.”

“What are you suggesting, Admiral?” asked Collier.  “To ignore the fact they destroyed our ship and killed a fifth of its crew?”

“What I’m suggesting is we may very well find our counterattack provokes them into an ever-increasing escalation that they never had any interest in pursuing.  And in the meantime, while we prepare to burn our resources to show the world who’s mightier, they are quietly sending over a dozen vessels into the Atlantic to search for anything left of those plants.  In other words, our sabre rattling may simply end up providing them the opportunity they need to keep us busy.  While they recover what was clearly important enough to start a fight over in the first place.”

Carr looked at him pensively.  “You’re suggesting we go after it ourselves.”

“Correct.”

“Even though we’re still not sure why they sank their own ship only hours after escaping from Georgetown.”

“I’m not sure it matters, Mr. President.”

The President raised an eyebrow.

“Cleary something went wrong.  Whether it’s a coup within their government or just a catastrophic mistake, it’s crystal clear what they really care about.”

“Maybe they realized there was something dangerous onboard,” Collier said sarcastically.

Langford considered it.  “It’s possible.  But they’re still sending every ship they have to salvage it.”

“So, we try to get there first.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t think,” Collier replied, “that our own salvage ships trying to get there before theirs will create an escalation?”

“Not if we don’t send our salvage ships.”

Miller stared at him from across the table with a puzzled expression.  “I’m not following.”

“Commander Lawton was the primary researcher of the plant sample we stole from the Chinese.  She’s confident that based on its cellular structure, and the fact that salt water is almost the perfect solvent, there isn’t going to be much for China to recover in the Atlantic.  Not to mention the area was still burning four days later from thousands of gallons of spilled diesel fuel.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Carr said.  “If there’s nothing left to recover, how then are you proposing we go after it?”

After a deep breath, Langford turned back to the President.  “There may be two other ways to grab what the Chinese are after…before they can.  One is through the DNA of a small monkey.  And the other may be in a box shipped to Beijing, one that the Chinese government may not even realize they have.”

President Carr, who was leaning back in his black leather chair, suddenly leaned forward.

“What did you just say?”

14

Will Borger leaned back in his chair with a loud squeak.  His heavyset frame filled every inch of space between the armrests.  “That’s our man.”

Clay was studying the screen again, staring at the Chinese military photo ID.  It had taken most of the night, but they finally identified the individual on the Xian Y-20 who was transporting back what they suspected was the extracted genetic material.  If they were correct, the contents of that case could now be the most valuable item on the planet.  But, the real question was…where was it now?

“Lieutenant Li of the Chinese Army.  Enlisted at the age of twenty-one.  Received a direct appointment to officer training after four years and has since then risen from Officer Cadet to First Lieutenant.  Pretty impressive.”

Borger nodded with arms crossed over his large belly, mostly hidden by a deep blue and white Hawaiian shirt.  “Awarded the Medal of Outstanding Service and the Medal for Outstanding Achievement.  What’s the Medal of Army Brilliance for?”

Clay shook his head.  “Not sure.”

“Well, one thing is for sure, this guy is highly decorated.”

“He is indeed.”

“So why have this guy Li escort the box home, almost nonstop on a secure military plane?  Anyone could have done that.  An honor thing maybe?”

“Possibly.  Both the Chinese political and military systems are highly class-based…but if you were trying to keep something quiet, especially something this big, would you pick one of the more recognized officers in the army?”

“Not unless I wanted someone to notice.”

“Right.  Then why would they want someone to notice?”

Borger shrugged.  “Maybe credibility.  As in ‘look what I have and you don’t.’ ”

“Maybe.  But then you’d have to worry about it being intercepted.”  Clay moved his chair closer.  “Bring up that picture of him deplaning in Beijing again.”

Borger complied and brought another image up on screen.  It was a satellite image, slightly grainier than the first, of Li walking from the giant Y-20 to a large hangar at the Tongxian Air Base in Beijing.

“Do you see any security around the hangar?” Clay asked.

Borger zoomed in.  “No.”

“And he’s moving quickly.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“So either the place was empty, which I doubt, or there was no show or display intended here.”

“Okay,” frowned Borger.  “Then we’re back to why pick someone that a lot of people on that base might recognize?”

Clay remained quiet for a long time.  Finally, the corner of his mouth curled.  “Trust,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Trust,” Clay repeated, louder.

“Trust?”

“Trust.”  Now Clay was thinking out loud.  “Whoever brought it in was going to be noticed.  Especially on that plane.  That was unavoidable.  To keep it secure meant using the Y-20, which also meant attention.  There would be no way to avoid that…especially if it all had to happen fast.”

“So you give up anonymity for speed.”

“Exactly.”

“But why a hero Lieutenant then?”

“Because if you need it done fast, and you’re going to be seen, you better be damn sure you can trust the man bringing it!”

“Ahhh,” Borger replied, nodding his head.  “Someone you could trust not to screw you.”

“Right.”

“So, someone in the government was out to get the sample first, and used our friend Li to protect it.”

Clay shook his head again.  “Not just anyone in the government.  A politician wouldn’t use someone like Li.  A military man would.  A military man with a hell of a lot of clout to commandeer a new prototype like the Y-20.”

“So…now we find out who he took it to.  Someone in the military.”

“That’s right.  And someone who knew exactly what was happening in that jungle in Guyana!”

Borger smiled, then clapped his hands and rubbed them together.  “Our next challenge.”

Clay stood up and stretched.  “How about a caffeine break?”

“Nah, I’m good.  Just bring me another.”

Clay nodded and picked up the empty can of Jolt cola from Borger’s desk.  “Didn’t they make this stuff illegal?”

“That’s NOT funny!”

With a chuckle, Clay turned and left the dark room.  The sun was up outside, but without any windows, there was no indication of time in Borger’s “bunker.”  Once outside and into the light, Clay blinked and quickly made his way down the wide beige-colored hallway toward the stairs.

As he was walking, his cell phone rang in his pocket.  He retrieved it and looked at the small screen with a smile.

“Well hello, beautiful.”

“Good morning,” Alison’s voice sounded on the other end.  “How are you?”

“Not too bad.  How’s paradise?”

Alison stopped and looked around the parking lot of her research center from where she was standing.  The warm sun was well off the horizon and a refreshing breeze wafted through the palm trees overhead.  “It’s a beautiful morning.  I tried to call you last night but got your voicemail.”

Clay pulled the phone away and looked at it again.  He hadn’t noticed the small icon indicating a new message.  “I’m sorry.  I’m downstairs in Borger’s lab where there’s not much signal.  We’ve been tied up most of the night.”

“Most of the night?” Alison asked, a hint of concern in her voice.  “Did you get any sleep?”

“Not really.  I’m too nervous to fall asleep in Borger’s lab.  I’m afraid he’ll try to put something on my head and scan me.”

She laughed.  “Well, you must be exhausted.  I’m really sorry.”

Clay reached the top of the stairs and opened a door, stepping this time into a carpeted hallway.  “That’s all right.  Talking to you is perking me up.”  When he looked back at the phone, he also noticed Alison had used the special encryption application like he’d shown her.  The slight delay in their conversation confirmed it.

“You’re such a smooth-talker.  Almost as smooth as your friend Steve who showed up here yesterday, by the way.  And unannounced I might add.”

“Oh, right.  Sorry about that.  I meant to warn you.”

“Warn me is right,” she teased.  “We had a very interesting conversation.”

“Well, Steve’s an interesting guy,” Clay joked, pulling open the door to the small vending room.  The place was empty.

“I presume you know why he was here.”

“I do.”  Clay closed the door behind him.  He promptly punched a button on the machine for his coffee, then reached over and opened the door of a refrigerator.  Inside were two cases of Jolt cola with a large piece of paper taped to the top.  On the paper was a scribbled message that read: “Do not drink!  Property of Will Borger!”  Clay always wondered why Borger felt compelled to label his drinks when no one else on the floor would drink them.  “So,” he continued, “how did it go?”

“Probably not as well as Steve was hoping.  DeeAnn’s still having a pretty hard time.  She wasn’t very receptive.  But Steve didn’t push her too hard.  Oh, and speaking of DeeAnn, there’s something else I haven’t told you yet.  She’s leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes.  She’s taking Dulce back to the Gorilla Foundation in California.  She’s been really shaken up by all this, and unfortunately, I can’t stop her.”

Clay sighed and pulled his coffee out of the dispenser.  He set it on the counter next to two cans of Borger’s Jolt.  “No talking her out of it, huh?”

“I’ve tried.  Believe me.  She’s going and there’s nothing I can do to change her mind.  I think there’s more going on with her than she’s telling me.”

Clay stared grimly at the wall.  “Then I guess our visit didn’t help matters much.”

“Uh, no.”

“I’m sorry, Ali.  We should have anticipated that.  We were hoping for a different reaction.”

“What’s happening, John?”

Clay grinned.  There was always something sweet in the way she said his first name.

“Things are happening pretty quickly here.  Some of our assumptions about South America and the Bowditch were not accurate.  And we’ve uncovered a few other surprises as well.”

“Steve said the man who kidnapped DeeAnn and Juan is dead.  Blanco.  And the person who killed him knows everything.”

“It looks that way.  But that’s only part of the problem.”  Clay wished he could tell her more, but he had to keep it to things in which Alison was already involved.  She had been there in Brazil with him, Caesare, and Borger.  She saw the same thing they had.  And she also knew about the plants the Chinese had found and were smuggling out of the jungle.

“So how were things left there?”

“DeeAnn stormed out, clearly upset.  But Steve didn’t push any further.  Instead, he visited the guys and played with Dulce a little before he and the other men left.”  She continued when Clay remained silent on the other end.  “Does this mean I’m not going to see you for a while?”

“Probably not.  I’m sorry.  Things look like they’re unraveling on us.  Without DeeAnn, our job is going to be much harder.  I’m sure Steve told you that we don’t have a lot of time.”

“He did.”  She tried to inject a little humor.  “Maybe I could call Admiral Langford and call in my favor.”

She was surprised when Clay laughed.

“I don’t think you want to waste it on me,” he replied.

“Oh, don’t kid yourself.  I’m saving it, but I’m definitely saving it for you.”

“Then let’s wait until your odds are better.”  Clay changed the subject back to DeeAnn.  “So listen, there’s a lot I can’t tell you, but I need you to try to work on DeeAnn for me.  Without her and Dulce, we’re going to have a pretty big problem.”

“Okay, I’ll try.”

“Thanks.  Unfortunately, I need to get back downstairs.  Can I call you tonight?”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“What’s a good time?”

This time, he knew Alison was smiling on the other end.  “Anytime is a good time.”

“Okay.  I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“I’m holding you to it.  Bye.”

Clay hung up and glanced at his watch.  Caesare and the other SEALs should have already arrived and began their preparations in Dam Neck, Virginia.  They were running out of time and Clay hoped Alison could help bring DeeAnn around.  Finding that capuchin monkey was a long shot, even with DeeAnn and Dulce’s help.  Without them, it would be virtually impossible.

Alison may have appreciated that Caesare didn’t push DeeAnn too hard, but the truth was it was a courtesy.  They would avoid forcing her if they could.  But when it came right down to it, if Alison couldn’t persuade DeeAnn, the only option left would be to bring her by force.

15

It was past midnight and Clay was still peering at the brightly lit laptop screen.  Just a couple hours before, he and Borger had finally returned to their homes to rejuvenate with the help of a quick shower.

After finding several vulnerable state-owned servers in China, Borger began the process of worming his way inside while Clay investigated something else.  A missing piece that continued to eat at him.

The Russian submarine Forel was still a mystery.  The sub was supposed to have been decommissioned a few years earlier.  However, since the CIA had classified the sub as a low threat, it fell off the radar of the Department of Defense and was replaced by newer R&D subs in Russia’s fourth and fifth generation classes.

Yet not only had the Forel mysteriously reemerged, it did so carrying a very different technology than originally outfitted.

Something wasn’t adding up.  Why would the Russians keep an old submarine when the majority of its fleet was more modern and advanced?  Clay suspected the capture of the Forel off the coast of South America had taken the Russians themselves by surprise.

But if the Russians found out what the Chinese were up to in Guyana and wanted to spy on them, they had better subs with which to do it.  All the evidence was quickly supporting Clay’s suspicion that the Russian government was not aware of the Forel’s rebirth.

He sat back in his chair, thinking.  The only light in the apartment came from the dining room chandelier above him.  The darkened living room on the other side of his table was clean and neat.  A leather couch and coffee table faced a broad, simply decorated wall with a wide flat-panel television fixed several feet above the fireplace.  Neither the fireplace nor the television had been used in months.

Clay’s eyes were still on his computer screen.  If the Forel had been “recommissioned,” U.S. intelligence would have found out, particularly if it was still in Russia, which suggested that it wasn’t officially recommissioned.  Especially according to the article Clay had just found.

The article was two years old and posted by a relatively small Norwegian publication from a town just outside of Stavanger.  It appeared a small group of antiwar protesters had gathered outside a quiet shipyard.  They had demanded that the government stop aiding “the global war machine” by building warships for its allies, which typically meant Russia.  The group had caught wind of the construction of a warship being built in their small town.  Yet once some of the group members found their way into the locked building, what they found was not a warship at all, but a submarine.

The picture in the article was centered on the protesters and only captured a piece of the vessel behind them.  And from what Clay could make out, the dimensions appeared to be very close to those of the Forel.  The article failed to mention, and Clay already knew that Norway didn’t build submarines.  At least not officially.  In fact, the country’s own small fleet of just six submarines was assembled in Germany.  Finally, what the article did include was that the shipyard was privately owned and operated by a Russian conglomerate.

But the last piece still didn’t fit since the Forel was destroyed along with the Chinese warship near Rio de Janeiro.  Two boats on the same path and found in the same location.  The Forel was not an adversary as they’d originally thought, but an ally to the Chinese.  Slowly the pieces were lining up, but still kept bringing Clay back to the same question.  Why were the Chinese Corvette and the Forel destroyed?

He glanced at his phone in front of him as the tiny screen lit up, followed by the familiar ring of an incoming call.  He reached forward and answered it.

“Hey, Will.”

“Hi, Clay.  I wake you up?”

“No.  I was just sitting here wondering why we don’t talk more.”

Borger laughed on the other end.  “Good, because we may be in for another long night.  First though, I think we need to get the Admiral on.”

Langford logged in from his own computer and his face promptly appeared in a video window.  His short gray hair was still neat, indicating he hadn’t slept yet either.  On the contrary, his eyes seemed to blaze intently in the glow of his computer screen.

“What do you have?” he asked immediately.

Borger began typing on his keyboard.  “Sir, I think we have some answers, but unfortunately more questions too.”

“Then let’s start with the answers.”

“Yes, sir.”  An image filled the rest of their screens as Borger shared a picture from his own computer.  It was a waist-high shot of a senior Chinese officer in uniform.  He looked to be in his early sixties with a tight haircut similar to the Admiral’s.  In the picture, the man looked relaxed with dark eyes focused on the camera.

“This is General Wei.  Head of China’s PLA, or the People’s Liberation Army, and the man I believe our Lieutenant Li delivered the DNA samples to after he left South America.”

Both Langford and Clay leaned forward, studying the picture.

“How do we know?”

Borger displayed a second window on the screen, filled with numeric codes.  “I found the logs from Li’s cell phone carrier and traced them back to the day he arrived.  The triangulation from the cell towers isn’t as exact as GPS, but he was in the building of China’s Central Military Commission.  That I’m sure of.  I then searched and compared the coordinates until I found people whose phone locations were close to Li’s.  The most likely person out of that group was General Wei.”

“Admiral, it appears General Wei was the one in charge of the Guyana find.  I’ve found emails from him and others showing that he was giving the orders.  And get this, the initial discovery was made almost nine months ago.  It took them another six months to get there.”

“Plenty of time to gut a warship.”

“Right.  And from what I can tell, they pulled it off with surprisingly few people knowing about it.”

“Okay, so what happened to our briefcase?”

Borger frowned on screen.  “That’s a good question, sir.  I just finished plotting the General’s phone coordinates on a map.  It’s a little messy.”  A map appeared on the screen with thousands of blue dots all around or near the government center of Beijing.  “I can clean this up a little, but I’m not sure if it’s worth it.”

“Why is that?” asked Clay.

“Because the coordinates of his phone are much more interesting after Lieutenant Li delivered the case.”  Another map suddenly replaced the first.  One with fewer dots.  “You can see here that most of the dots, or coordinates, are almost on top of each other until this.”  He circled some of the outlying dots with his mouse.  “What this shows is that Wei left the building less than thirty minutes later on that day.  And judging from the distance and speed of the coordinates after his departure, he was probably in a car.”

Borger’s mouse highlighted a string of dots moving in one direction.  “This was his path until the tower lost signal.”

“What does that mean…he drove out of range?”

“I don’t think so, sir.  I think he turned off his phone.”

16

Langford raised an eyebrow.  “He turned it off?”

“Yes, sir.  There were a few towers he was still close enough to connect to.  And even if he didn’t have a strong enough voice signal, he should have been well inside the range of the control channel used for text messages.  Text messages can be received farther away, which still would have allowed the towers to triangulate.”

“So he receives the case from Li, immediately gets in his car and heads north, then turns off his phone.”  Langford’s face was somber.   “Then what?”

“That’s where things go from strange to bizarre.”  Borger hesitated before continuing.  “He disappeared from the grid for almost fourteen hours before his phone came back on, at roughly the same place as it went off.”

“So he turned it back on?”

“Yes, sir.”

Langford crossed his arms, thinking.  “Do we have any indication whether he still had the case with him?”

“There’s no way to know,” Borger replied.  “But my bet is that he didn’t.”

Langford nodded.  “I wouldn’t exactly call that bizarre.  My guess is our good General hid it somewhere, or with someone.”

“Uh, that’s not actually the bizarre part.  It’s that General Wei’s reappearance on the grid was short-lived, literally.  He never returned home.  Instead, he drove himself back to Beijing, found a parking lot, and killed himself in his car.”

“What?!”  Both Langford and Clay were stunned.  “Are you kidding?”

“No, sir,” Borger shook his head.

“Jesus,” Langford groaned.  “This just keeps getting worse and worse.”  He looked at his screen with exasperation.  “Any of this making sense to you, Clay?”

“I’m afraid not, Admiral.  But I agree with Will.  If this General Wei went to so much trouble to get that case and then disappeared just before ending his life, I think we can be pretty certain it wasn’t with him when he came back.”

This wasn’t making sense to any of them.

“Why on Earth would a man with that kind of power, who now has something virtually every person on the planet wants, simply kill himself?”

“To keep it quiet,” Clay mused.  He looked back to Wei’s picture on the screen and it suddenly fell into place.  “That’s it.  That’s the answer.”

“What is?”

Clay’s voice rose excitedly.  “There is no coup in China’s Standing Committee.  It’s in the Central Military Commission.  General Wei is the coup!”

“Wei?”

“Wei was in charge of the find in Guyana.  So he knew what they had.  He had the authority to launch a strike on the Bowditch.  And he also had the authority to order the sinking of their own ship and the Forel.  He was trying to destroy the cargo.  The last remaining piece was the DNA-infused bacteria in the case that Li flew back to him.  Wei was systematically destroying any evidence of what they’d found.”

“But why?” Langford asked.  “Why destroy the one thing that could change everything?”  He shook his head and thought it over, then looked back at Borger’s image.  “Will, if he wanted to destroy the samples, couldn’t he have done that just about anywhere?”

“I suspect so.”

“So why disappear with it while trying to avoid being tracked?”

“It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“It does,” said Clay, “if Wei wasn’t intending to destroy it.”

Border nodded.  “For example if he were hiding it.”

Langford folded his arms again with a stern expression.  “He destroyed what he wasn’t able to contain and hid the rest.”

“It appears so.”

“Which means that briefcase may still be within a seven-hour drive from his phone’s last coordinates.”

“Or less,” added Borger.  “If he had to sleep.”

After a long silence, Langford looked back at the screen.  “How’s your Chinese, Clay?”

Clay was already searching for more on Wei when he looked back to Langford’s image in surprise.  “What?”

Langford checked his watch.  “Pack your bags.  I’ll arrange for your ride.  In the meantime, Borger, you have approximately thirteen hours to figure out exactly where Clay is going.”

***

By 3:30 a.m. Clay was already at thirty-two thousand feet aboard the C-20D Gulfstream III.  The model C-20D was the most common variant used by the U.S. Navy and retrofitted with special naval communication equipment.  It was also the same aircraft which Clay and Caesare had taken to Brazil just a few weeks earlier.  A trip which set in motion a chain of events that none of them could have anticipated.

Clay peered out of the small window to his left, into the morning darkness with twinkling stars above him.  There was an eerie feeling inside the cabin, sitting alone listening only to the roar of the two Rolls Royce Turbofan engines outside as they rocketed the aircraft through freezing air at top speed.

The Gulfstream would have to make multiple stops to reach its final destination in Manila.  It was as far as he could go without raising flags in a government plane.  From there he would have to travel aboard commercial flights, first to Taiwan and finally in through Hong Kong.  With the help of a falsified passport, it would be his best chance at entering China without too much attention from customs.  Once inside, it would be another 1,200 miles to Beijing and hopefully enough time for Borger to narrow down his search area.  Assuming the target was still there.

Clay tried again to relax and lay back against the chair’s soft headrest.  He struggled to imagine what had motivated General Wei to destroy or hide the treasure which his soldiers had worked so hard to recover in that jungle.

He closed his eyes and instead thought of Alison.  He pictured her face, with long brown hair falling over her shoulders.  Her beautiful eyes smiling back at him.  He was falling for her and let himself smile as he began to drift off to sleep.

In the end, it was his exhaustion that had prevented Clay from figuring out Wei’s motives that night.  And when he finally did two days later, it would already be too late.

17

Alison sat in her office, thinking about John.  She had been expecting a call the night before, but it never came.  She wasn’t overly concerned, but it was just another example of the challenges in trying to maintain a long-distance relationship, especially with their jobs. Still, she had no regrets.  A man like John was a diamond in the rough.  The kind of man every woman wished for but rarely found.  There were certainly plenty of wonderful men out there.  But someone had truly broken the mold after John Clay.

Her thoughts wandered back to the week they’d just spent together after returning from Trinidad.  The walks on the beach holding hands, the feeling of safety she felt with him, and the way he spoke to her. They stirred emotions Alison hadn’t experienced in a long time, if ever.

It made it all the more ironic that she hadn’t yet realized her cell phone was still in her car.  Nor that John Clay would be well over the Pacific before she discovered the voicemail he’d left while his plane was refueling in California.

With a sigh, Alison shook herself out of her daze and stood up from her chair.  She rounded the desk and walked to the door where, with a quick pull, she stepped through and proceeded downstairs.  Something had been haunting her since Trinidad.  Something she’d been reluctant to pursue without really knowing why.  So much had happened in the last few months.  So much had been discovered that Alison was almost afraid of what they might learn next.

The breakthrough with Dirk and Sally was truly a miracle of modern technology.  It had blown open the doors to a real, genuine conversation between the two most sentient species on the planet.  But what they’d found was not just exciting, it was frightening.  Frightening in its potential to disrupt what they as humans had assumed for so long: that somehow animals without familiar or recognizable communicative abilities were little more than cute creatures in a kingdom over which humans claimed dominion.

But now…now they had discovered not only a shocking level of understanding in Dirk and Sally’s communication, but also exposed an almost shameful level of human hubris.  And a level of disconnectedness with the world around them that left Alison worried for her own species.  Even Alison’s own personal connections were beginning to feel devoid of any true meaning.  Instead, it felt like a detached view of the planet.  Mistakenly superior.  Materialistic.  Clinical.

The truth was, Alison was growing fearful of finding out that humans might not be very human after all.  That rather than contributing to the world as it really was, they were instead gradually destroying it under a veneer of “progress.”  The last thing she wanted to do was become even more disappointed in herself or her race.

Alison forced a smile and pushed open one of the doors into the observation area.  She’d often thought that the dolphins, especially Sally, could almost sense her coming.  Which made it all the eerier when Sally seemed to be waiting for her as she arrived.

Hello Alison.

“Good morning, Sally.  How are you and Dirk?”

We happy.  How you?

“I’m happy too.”  She was thankful the dolphins were not able to read human faces yet.  Nevertheless, if Sally detected something different from Alison’s response, she didn’t show it.

Where Chris?

“Chris isn’t here yet.  He will come soon.”  She approached the tank and leaned against a desk just a few feet from the giant glass wall.

Chris funny.  Dirk replied as he glided in.

“Yes, he is.”

Alison paused, thinking how best to begin.  Starting with the journey seemed a logical place.  Especially since it had turned out to be much more than any of them expected.

“Sally, Dirk.  I’d like to ask you some questions.”

Yes Alison.  We talk.

“How…often do you go on your journey?”

Many.

She frowned, suspecting IMIS had mistranslated.  “I mean, how many times in a year?”

One.

Alison knew the match for “year” was what the dolphins referred to as a “cycle.”

“One every cycle?”

Yes.

“Why do you go?”

Journey beautiful.

“Yes, it is.”

She couldn’t argue with that.  Diving with them near the island of Trinidad was beyond beautiful.  An underwater oasis like nothing the team had ever seen.

And the population of dolphins there was simply breathtaking.  Thousands, tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds covered the surface of the ocean like a giant, moving sea blanket.

“So, you go because it’s beautiful?”

We go for connect.  For strong.

“For connect?”

Yes.  And for strong.

It was the first time Alison had seen that word translated: connect.  But it verified what she had suspected.  It wasn’t just a journey they carried out every year, it was a migration of some kind.  A return to something deeper and more meaningful to them.  And not just individually, but collectively.  As a group.  It was culture!

She stared at the screen, reading the translation again.  What did “for strong” mean?  To strongly connect?  For a stronger connection?

“Sally,” she asked.  What is so special about your place?”

A beep sounded and IMIS flagged the word “special.”  She rephrased.

“Why do dolphins go to that place?”

Place from live.

Alison frowned, unclear on the meaning.

“I don’t understand.”

Place from live.  Sally repeated.  One cycle.

Alison mumbled to herself, trying to understand.  “Yes, every cycle.  I understand that.”

Live.

“I don’t understand.”  She shook her head.  Still at a loss, she decided to try another question.  “Sally.  Dirk.  How far back do you remember?”

The room became silent while she waited for a response.  When nothing came, she glanced at the computer screen to see if there was a problem.  No errors.  “Sally?  Dirk?”

No understand Alison.  Dirk replied.

Alison opened her mouth to say it a different way but stopped abruptly.  Rephrasing the question suddenly appeared more difficult than she thought.

“I mean, how do your-” she stopped again.  Dammit.  How the hell would someone describe a memory?

“Sally.  Dirk.  Do you know yesterday?”

Yes.

“Do you know yesterday yesterday?”

Yes.  Yes.  Dirk followed his response with a laugh.  Alison frowned again.

“I mean, do you know yesterday’s yesterday?”

Yes.

“Do you know yesterday’s yesterday’s yesterday?”

On the other side of the glass, Sally’s dark eyes glanced at Dirk and then back at Alison.  She wondered if Alison were joking herself.

Three day back.  Yes.

From the edge of the desk, Alison smiled.  “Do you know ten days back?”

This time Sally’s response came quickly.  Alison you play?

“No, I’m not playing.”

Dirk edged closer to her.  Yes Alison.  We know ten day.  We know hundred day.  We know all day.  You question funny.

Alison grinned.  “How many days back do you know?”

All day.

“How many cycles back?”

All cycle.

“More than a hundred?”

Yes.

Finally, Alison asked the question she had been trying to work toward.  “How do you know more than a hundred cycles back?”

Sally’s response was exactly what Alison was hoping for.

Heads.

“You mean your elders?”

Yes.  Heads.

“You know from your heads?  Do they teach you?”

Yes.  Heads teach all.

How many elders are there?

Many.

Alison stared at them, momentarily transfixed.  Their elders taught them.  And they taught them things older than they were.  Her excitement was swelling.  If what Sally and Dirk just told her was correct, it was big.  Huge.  It meant that dolphins had more than just language and culture.  They had history!

Alison remained quiet, excitedly thinking through the impact of what Dirk and Sally had just said.  More questions began filling her head.  If there was a historical lineage, it meant a cognitive progression.  More than just memories or culture, it explained why their intelligence was so much more advanced than many other animals.  Real knowledge had many components, not the least of which were lessons or learnings passed down through multiple generations.  Knowledge that could lead in so many different directions.

Alison was looking for a pen and paper when she was suddenly interrupted.

“Miss Alison!”

She spun around to find Bruna behind her, eyes wide with excitement.

“Bruna.  Is something wrong?”

“Miss Alison.  Come!  Come quickly!”

“What is it?”

“Come!  Come!”

Alison pushed away from the desk only to watch Bruna turn and rush back toward the entrance.  She instinctively fell in behind her, trotting until they reached the doorway.

Bruna promptly opened one of the large doors and disappeared.

Alison caught the door before it closed, pulling it open again to peer down the hall.  All she could see was Bruna hurrying away and quickly disappearing around the far corner.

When Alison caught up, coming around the same corner, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There in front of her in the lobby stood Lara and Ricardo Santiago, the parents of young Sofia.  They were standing side by side.  Lara’s eyes were red and swollen from crying.

Alison stared at them.  Her face suddenly drawn.  Oh no. Not Sofia.  Not already!

“Mr. and Mrs. Ricardo,” her voice trembled.  “W-what is it?”

Lara Ricardo gulped back a sob and looked at her husband.  Without a word she turned slightly and took a step to the side.  There was someone standing behind her.  It was Sofia.

Alison was overwhelmed with relief, a feeling that was immediately replaced by astonishment.  Sofia was not just behind her parents.  With the help of crutches, she was actually standing!

There was a loud gasp behind Alison at which point she turned to find DeeAnn, stunned and frozen with her own mouth open.

“Sofia!  You’re standing!”

Balancing carefully between the metal crutches, the young girl was beaming at both women.  Next to Sophia, her mother began crying again.

“She’s getting stronger!”

18

Minutes later, Alison was sprinting at full speed back down the hallway.  She burst through the double doors and continued across the room where she raced up the wide stairs.  At the top, she continued until she reached the lab.  In one motion she yanked the door open and rushed in, finding all three of the guys at Lee’s desk.

“Something wrong?”

She didn’t respond.  Instead, she quickly crossed the room.  Their expressions grew more concerned as she approached.

When she reached the desk, her eyes were on Chris, gazing at his face.  She examined both cheeks and stepped back.  “Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Take off your shirt!”

He blinked and shot a confused look at Lee and Juan.  “Wh-why do you want me to take off my shirt?”

“TAKE IT OFF!”

Chris jumped.  He promptly raised his hands and pulled his white polo shirt up and over his head, revealing his olive-colored chest and stomach.  The latter was carrying about ten pounds too many.

He stood waiting.  “Happy?”

Alison examined his front and then spun him sideways to see his back.  “Your bruises are gone.”

“Yes, Ali.  It’s called healing.”

She turned her gaze to Lee, who was also standing.  “And what about you?”

He instinctively raised his hands when she stepped toward him.  “Whoa!  Whoa!” he grinned.  “I’m married.”

“Quiet.”  She closed in to place her hand on his side then pressed gently.  There was no reaction.  “What happened to your ribs?!”

Lee shrugged.  “They’re better.”

“Ribs don’t heal that fast!”

“Maybe I have good bones.”

“It’s not the bones, Lee.  It’s all the muscles around them.  They should take months longer to heal.”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t as bad as they thought.”

She didn’t answer.  Instead she glanced at the younger Juan, causing him to jump back.  “I’m good!”

“Ali-” Before Chris could finish his sentence, Alison was already rushing back to the door.  Once outside, she ran to the stairs and descended as fast as she could.

From the tank, Dirk and Sally noticed Alison rush back down the stairs.  They continued watching as she crossed the room and grabbed her bag off a nearby table.

She rummaged through it and looked up, frustrated.  She said something that IMIS couldn’t translate.  She was clearly upset.

Her phone was still in her car, damn it.  Alison thought for a moment, finally raising her eyes to the tank and to Dirk and Sally on the other side.  They were observing her carefully.

She stepped forward and placed her hands on her hips.  “Why don’t you have a word for sick?!”

It was a rhetorical question, but Sally drifted closer and replied.

We have Alison.

“No!  Not injured…I mean sick!  Like a cold, or a virus…or a disease!”

Sally stared at her.

No understand Alison.  You not happy?

She folded her arms in front of her, catching her breath.  “It’s hard to explain.”

Alison you mad?

“No, Dirk.  I’m not mad.  I-”  She stopped when she saw an image appear in the reflection behind her and turned to face a solemn DeeAnn Draper.  She reached back to turn off the voice translation.

“Something weird is happening.”

DeeAnn nodded.  “I’ll say.  Sofia is suddenly standing just two days after we saw her.”

“That’s not all.  Chris’s bruises are gone and Lee can’t feel his injuries anymore either.”

“What’s going on here, Alison?”

“I don’t know.”  She fell quiet, thinking.  The truth was she did know.  She knew what Clay and Caesare had found in the jungle.  What the Chinese had found.  Those plants.  The same plants Neely Lawton was studying aboard the Bowditch when it sank.  Plants with a mysterious piece of DNA that allowed them to regenerate at an accelerated rate.  But she couldn’t see or understand how those abilities could possibly be connected with them, or for that matter, Sofia.

None of them had come in contact with the sample Lawton had shown them in her lab.  In fact, Chris and Lee hadn’t even been in the lab.  Which meant that Alison was the variable.

Was it possible she’d come in contact with the bacteria without realizing it?  She couldn’t see how.

Alison began backing herself out of her thought process.  If there was no link then what was happening to them now had to be unrelated.  Something different.  But what else could explain it?  If Sofia was suddenly healing too, what could cause it in all three of them at the same time?

She looked at her own arm again.  She’d already removed the bandage but raised her wrist and yet again moved it back and forth.  There was still no pain in either direction.  What was happening?!

DeeAnn was watching her, silently.  Finally, she frowned and took a deep breath.  “I guess you’d better tell me what you all found up on that mountain.”

“What?”

“What you and Steve wanted to tell me the other day.”

“I thought you didn’t want to know.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes.  Just like that.”

“Does that mean you’re going with Steve?”

“It means I want to know more before I decide.”

“Okay,” Alison nodded.  “Then you may want to sit down.”

DeeAnn smiled, but when she realized Alison was serious she grabbed a chair from next to the table, lowering herself into it.

Still standing and with arms crossed, Alison thought for a moment.  “You remember when we were all on Alves’ helicopter?”

“Of course.  I woke up when John and Steve were raiding the inside.”

“That’s right.  Unfortunately, things changed when we left the helicopter.  We were able to track those compounds back to the source, where a high concentration originated near a cliff wall.  But the water wasn’t coming down the wall.  It was coming from within it.”

“Within the wall?”

“Yes.”

“You mean like inside the rock?”

“I mean like on the other side of it.  There was a cavern carved inside of the mountain, Dee.  And the wall was a giant door.”

“What do you mean the wall was a door?”

“I mean the wall opened!”

“What?”

“The cliff wall.  It opened.  And on the other side there was a giant room.  The water had leaked inside and by the time it seeped back out, it was changed.”

“Changed how?”

Alison took a deep breath.  “Okay, this is the part that might sound a little…hard to believe.  Inside the wall were giant columns.  All standing like pillars in this pitch-black cavern.  They were made of some kind of glass because you could see what was inside them.  It was a greenish-looking liquid and each of the columns were holding thousands of little spheres inside, like large bubbles.  And inside those spheres were what looked to be seeds…and embryos.”

DeeAnn raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly.  “Did you say embryos?”

“Yes.”

“You found embryos hidden inside this place?!”

“Thousands.  Maybe tens of thousands.  And that water was seeping inside and being changed by those things.  The same water that changed those plants after seeping back outside.”

From her chair, DeeAnn stared motionlessly up at Alison, her large eyes blinking repeatedly.

“The water wasn’t the source.  The source was the things inside that giant cave.  The columns and whatever was inside them.”  Alison lowered her voice without realizing it.  “The Chinese found the plants, Dee.  They grabbed as much as they could and then burned the rest.  But I don’t think they knew about the water.  And they sure as hell didn’t know what was hidden in that cliff.”

“So who put it there?”

“We don’t know,” Alison said.  “But whoever it was …wasn’t us.”

DeeAnn’s eyes opened wide.  “Wasn’t us?”

“They couldn’t have been.  Dee, these things were advanced.  I mean really advanced.  Even Will Borger couldn’t believe it.  And there was enough dust on the ground to tell me that no one had been in there for a looong time.”

“How long?”

“Long.  Hundreds of years, at least.  Maybe thousands.”

DeeAnn was having as much trouble processing it as they had.  “But…why?  Why would someone…or something…put that there?”

“Will thinks it’s some kind of vault, from another species.  Put here to ensure their DNA survives forever.  He said scientists have already done something like it up north, in Norway, I think.”

“A vault,” DeeAnn mumbled incredulously.  “An embryo vault.”

“Steve Caesare calls it something else…an alien ARK.”

DeeAnn gasped.  “Holy-”

“That puts it in a different perspective, doesn’t it?”

“My God,” she whispered.  “An ark?”

Alison nodded.  “But instead of sending animals, they sent embryos.  And seeds.  Will thinks the liquid inside the tubes is some kind of nutrient, keeping them all alive.”  She lowered herself onto the edge of the table.  “Now you can understand why Steve is going back.  Because somehow what ended up in that water, and those plants, also ended up in that little capuchin monkey.”

“That’s why he’s so old,” DeeAnn whispered, incredulous.

“That’s the theory.  The plants were destroyed, but the DNA strain is likely still preserved in the monkey.  And since our DNA is so similar to his, it may also be transferrable.”

DeeAnn dropped her gaze to the table, shaking her head.  She was stunned.  After several seconds, she looked back at Alison.  “Okay, wait.  What does all that have to do with us, and Sofia?”

“I don’t know.  The effects seem too similar not to be related, but I can’t understand how we would have picked it up.  Maybe the water was trickling down to the ocean or something?”

“Wouldn’t that mean you’d then have these giant plants popping up all the way down to the coast?”

“Probably.  Which means it has to be something else.”

“Right.  Besides, once it got into the ocean, you’d probably have everything growing like crazy underwater too.  Maybe-” DeeAnn shrugged, but suddenly fell quiet when she looked back at Alison, whose jaw had dropped and her face had begun losing color.

“Oh my God!”

“What?”

“OH MY GOD!”

DeeAnn looked confused.  “What?  What is it?”

Alison leaped up.  “It IS in the water!  The ocean!” She spun around to face Dirk and Sally, who were still watching them.  “I SAW it!  I saw it and didn’t even realize!”  She peered up at the top of the enormous tank.  “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”

“Don’t you see?!” Alison cried.  “Sofia!  None of the guys were in the water with her.  Only me.  But I’m not the one who brought it back.  It was DIRK AND SALLY WHO BROUGHT IT BACK!”

“Holy cow.”

“Holy cow is right!”  Alison grabbed her backpack again and dug into the small pocket in the front, retrieving her car keys.  She then dropped the pack and began running for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get my phone!”

19

The Florida Everglades was truly a sight to behold for anyone seeing it for the first time.  Spanning nearly half the state, the Everglades rested upon a large limestone shelf, causing water leaving enormous Lake Okeechobee to form a slow moving river stretching more than sixty miles wide and one hundred miles long –– a river flowing steadily through vast sawgrass marshes and mangrove forests to the southern half of the state.  That was where it emptied into Florida Bay and the Caribbean Sea beyond.

Now, over a century after the first large-scale projects were proposed, a network of over 1,400 miles of canals and levees were harnessing a huge portion of the Everglade’s massive water supply. The result of which were dozens of modern cities that could never have existed without a huge, yet shallow, river called the Everglades.

The late morning air was growing warmer from the southwesterly wind blowing gently through the endless marshes, leaving behind only slight ripples across the clear, shallow water.  Too slight, in fact, to affect the fifteen-foot-long canoe gliding smoothly in and around one of many mangrove systems.

The lone woman held her paddle steady on one side, turning back out into the small channel before switching sides and rounding another outcropping.  The tangled roots jutted far out across the water, slowly making their own crossing as if trying to reunite with those on the other side.

The mysterious Everglades was her favorite place in the world after studying for four years at the nearby University of Miami.  She’d spent weeks at a time deep in the Everglades studying its vastly complicated ecosystem and biological systems.  And the deeper she went, the more beautiful it all became.

The woman paddled slowly among the trees, allowing the canoe to coast against the soft ripples as she examined a sprawling manchineel tree, reaching ominously from the bank.  The manchineel was one of the deadliest trees in the world, native to Florida.  Its leaves were highly toxic as was its small flowering fruit, resembling a small apple.  The tree was legendary for its poisonous sap, used for centuries by Carib Indians to poison the tips of their arrows, ensuring a long agonizing death for their enemies.  A poison which held perhaps the most tragic and ironic reputation in history, being used to kill in battle the famed explorer Juan Ponce de León, who was searching for the legendary fountain of youth.

The manchineel was also the tree on which she had done her senior thesis.  She was fascinated by the sheer power of its biological design, and deadly toxins, all wrapped in a cocoon of natural beauty and innocence.  A plant-based eukaryote that could destroy an animal eukaryote so quickly, from a single brush, that it was one of the closest things she’d seen to an evolutionary anomaly.  It was not the only poisonous plant in the world, but its efficacy and speed of eukaryote destruction put it in a class all its own.

The universe was balanced.  Of that, she was sure.  There was no existence of light without darkness or heat without cold.  No death without life.  Contraction and expansion, amorphous and formed, the list went on and on.  What truly fascinated her about the manchineel tree was the rarity of those toxins coming together in an evolutionary process creating something so deadly.  Including some toxins which still remained unidentified.

To her, it was proof that even the longest biological odds existed somewhere.  And if one organism had evolved into a nearly perfect killer, its very existence suggested there could be another, somewhere, that had evolved into the perfect healer.  An organism whose existence was just as much an anomaly as the manchineel tree.

And she thought she’d found it.  No, she was sure she had found it.  But so had someone else and the events that unfolded as a result were devastating.  She’d briefly had in her hands the greatest biological anomaly in history, just days before it all came to a violent end.

She was aboard the Bowditch when it sank in a twisted heap of fire and steel.  She was one of the crewmembers who made it off in time, thanks to one man who, in the face of the worst possible situation, still managed to save most of the lives on his ship.  The same man who died trying to save his chief engineer below deck.  In the end, the Captain was the greatest hero she had ever seen.  And he was more than just a captain, he was her father.  A father who didn’t just save his crew…but one who stood between death and his own daughter, and won.

Her eyes began to well up again as she pulled the paddle up and onto her lap, allowing the canoe to slow to a stop again, against the water’s soft ebbing.

Her father was gone.  Her hero.  Her dad.

Neely Lawton’s tears came again, as though they would never end.  A week alone in the solitude of her Everglades still wasn’t enough to help heal her broken heart.  She knew it would take time and yet she still didn’t want to let go.  She didn’t want him to simply become a memory, or images she thought of periodically.  She didn’t want him to fade.

She sat listlessly in the channel, listening to the subtle sounds of the earth around her –– the chirping birds and the trickling of the water around the worn hull of her canoe.  In front of her knees sat her pack and tent, neatly bundled.

Neely had remained motionless against a large mangrove shoot for nearly thirty minutes when she heard it.  The sound of an engine approaching.  It had a distinct pitch which told her it was an airboat, a common craft in Florida used in shallow waters.   And she was surprised to hear it.

Neely was miles from the larger lakes and channels.  She hadn’t seen a soul for days, which filled her with a sense of both curiosity and concern.

It was unlikely to just happen upon someone that far up the Watson River, but the sound of the engine told Neely that the craft was headed straight for her.

She hadn’t seen anyone…but it didn’t mean someone had not seen her.

Someone had seen her.  Someone she was about to wish had not.

Sitting on tall seats atop an old and dingy airboat, Sal and Jered Hicks had grown up in the backwoods and swamps of Southern Florida.  Brothers who both had spent the better part of their lives among the unpatrolled waters of the northwestern Everglades hunting anything they could sell on the black market, protected or not.  Yet the Glades provided something far more important to the brothers than just a source of poached alligators.  It provided obscurity.  The ability to simply disappear within the jungle-like terrain for months at a time.  Especially when people might be looking for them.  To the Hicks brothers, the state of Florida’s greatest natural treasure was the ultimate protection to its inhabitants from the world outside.

Sal and Jered spotted the red canoe earlier that morning and had been quietly following it until they were sure the woman was alone.  Because once they started the engine, they had to move fast.

Neely leaned forward as the boat sped into view around a nearby embankment.  Two men were aboard.  Each was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts with one donning a large camouflage hat, the wide circling brim hiding much of his unshaven face.  The second man looked to be wearing a similarly sized, and seemingly dirtier, straw hat.

As they roared down the channel toward her, she could hear the throttle ease up, causing the boat to dip forward and begin slowing.  When the men were within two hundred feet, they dropped the engine to an idle and examined Neely as the last of their boat’s momentum took them the rest of the way.

The short-bearded man at the controls smiled under his straw hat.  “Howdy.”

Neely’s response was reserved.  “Hello.”

“What’s a perty thing like you doing way out here?  You lost?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

Her eyes left the first visitor and were now watching the man whose face was partially concealed.

“I’m sure.”

The pilot of the craft nodded and scooted in his seat, turning around and scanning the area.  “I don’t see any friends.  I hope yer not alone out here all by yerself.   Lot a nasty things crawling around out here, worse than gators and crocs.”

“I’m fine.”

“You want us to tow you in?  Be a lot faster.”

“Really, I’m fine.  Thanks.”

The pilot nodded again and scanned behind them a second time.  He turned to his brother Jered, who was watching the woman with his dark eyes.  Without a word, Jered lowered his hand and dropped his empty beer can onto the already littered floor of their boat.  His foot was resting on the top of a dirty ice cooler, held in place by an even dirtier and fraying bungee cord.

A smile slowly spread across his thin lips.  “I guess she doesn’t want a tow.”

“I said I was fine.”

Her response caused Jered’s smile to widen, exposing a set of yellowed teeth.  “She says she’s fine.”

The larger and fatter Sal shook his head.  “I don’t think she knows what a dangerous place it is out here.”  His eyes peered intently at Neely.  “Why, there’s gators out here big enough to-”  He suddenly stopped when he noticed her position.

Her body was leaning forward as though supporting herself with a hand on the forward seat.  But her hand wasn’t on the seat.  Instead it was just a few inches farther, resting inside the opening to her pack.

“What you got there, girl?”

Jered noticed it too and continued smiling.  “I don’t think your phone is going to work out here.”

She watched quietly as both men laughed.  Jered nodded and stood up out of his chair, approaching the front edge of the flat-bottom boat.  The engine was still idling as the craft inched slowly forward, leaving less than fifteen feet between the two boats.

Sal responded to his brother’s nod by reaching down for the throttle.  Another quick blast of air would push them within reach of the canoe.

But just as Sal’s hand fell onto the metal knob, his entire body abruptly froze at the sight of Neely sliding a gun out of her bag, her hand wrapped firmly around the handle.

Her index finger was resting just above the trigger of a nickel-plated 9mm Sig Sauer, the 1911 her father had given her after graduating from Officer Training Command.

Her eyes remained fixed on Jered, who was now leaning toward her and had been waiting for his brother to push them forward.  Instead, his eyes widened when he too noticed the bright glint of the gun’s barrel.  He immediately straightened and looked back up to her face where her gray-blue eyes stared at him, unblinking.

His hands shot up in front of his chest.  “Whoa.  Easy, sweetheart.  We’re just being friendly now, right?”  He turned to Sal who still wasn’t moving either.

“T-that’s right.  It’s a long way back.  Just thought it’d be gentlemanly if we gave you a hand.”

“I don’t need a hand.”

“We can see that.”

Jered calmly glanced down at a large duffle bag beneath his seat.  Inside was his own gun.  He had put it away to avoid getting it wet.  Now he wished he hadn’t.  He was also wondering how quickly he could retrieve it.  It was loaded and ready.

The two men stared at each other with the same thought.  They’d been in scrapes before…far worse than this.  They exchanged a knowing look that just because a woman had a gun didn’t mean she knew how to use it.

They were considering their options when Neely unexpectedly reached into the bag with her free hand and retrieved another item.  This time, it was a piece of clothing, and it was about to put an end to any thoughts the two had of escalating this confrontation.

She calmly pulled out a dark blue baseball hat and pulled it over her head from back to front.  Above the cap’s bill were four large, unmistakable white letters.

N-A-V-Y.

Both men’s expressions changed instantly.  This woman clearly knew how to use the gun in her hand.

“She doesn’t want any help, J.”

Jered nodded his head and stepped back from the front edge of their boat.  Behind him, his brother throttled up and turned the vertical rudders, twisting the fanboat into a hard turn.  It slowly curved away from the canoe and continued a 180-degree turn, just clearing the embankment on the far side of the channel.  Once clear of another mangrove patch, their engine and fan emitted a deafening roar and accelerated the craft back along the path from which they came.

The burst of hot air, coupled with the smell of grease and gasoline, washed over Neely as she watched their retreat.  Her heart was pounding in her chest and a bead of sweat escaped from under the cap, running down past her left ear.  She hadn’t been that frightened in a long time.

Hours later, Neely Lawton rounded the river’s mouth in her canoe. She was heading for Tarpon Creek, situated on the southeast end of Whitewater Bay.  She took a break and glanced at the sun, which was beginning its descent into another stunning Everglade sunset.  As she stretched her back, Neely watched dozens of birds take flight into the warm, windless sky.  Near the edge of the water, an alligator watched her intently with only its eyes and nose protruding above the surface.

She wasn’t going to make it.  It was still too far to Tarpon, which meant another night on one of the chickee platforms.  Something she was trying to avoid given her inauspicious morning.  The fear that the two men might still be watching her would make sleeping almost impossible.  It was going to be a very long night.

Then suddenly, her cell phone rang from inside her heavy pack.  She was back in range again.  Neely dropped the paddle at her feet and quickly dug the phone out of her bag before it went to voicemail.  The number on the screen was unknown.

“Neely Lawton.”

“Neely, hi.  This is Alison Shaw.  We met a few weeks ago on the-”

“I remember you, Alison.  How are you?”

“I’m fine.  How are you?”

Neely gazed across the bay, its still water reflecting the azure sky above it like a mirror.  “It’s been a mixed day.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, actually, if you have some time I need to talk to you about something.  Something important.”

Neely leaned back in her seat and stretched her legs out.  “I have a lot of time at the moment.”  She paused, thinking.  “How did you get a hold of me?”

“Through Admiral Langford.”

“Admiral Langford?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.  Okay then...shoot.”

She heard Alison take a breath on the other end.

“It’s about something you mentioned the last time we talked.  About what happened in Guyana.  More specifically, the plants you were examining aboard the ship.”

“Okay.”

“Well, the thing is,” Alison said, “I think I’m seeing something similar here.”

Neely’s eyes widened.  “What?  Where?!”

“In Puerto Rico.  Here in my lab.”

“Puerto Rico?”

“Yes.  At our research center.”

“What kind of-”

Alison stopped her.  “It’s a long story, and probably too much to try to explain on the phone.  But I’m wondering if you could make a trip down here.  We could use your help.”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.  “Yes, I can.”  Neely suddenly paused, realizing where she was.  “Um, it may take a little time to get there.  I’m not exactly close to an airport.”

“That should not be a problem.  I think Admiral Langford is dispatching a ride for you.”

“Does he even know where I am?”

“He said he had Will Borger searching for you.  I’m guessing that probably won’t take him very long.”

Neely smiled on the other end.  It was the first smile in what felt like a very long time, and she had to admit it felt good.  “Well, Alison.  I must admit, your timing probably could not be better.”

***

From her chair, DeeAnn watched Alison as she ended the call.  “So you called in your favor.”

“I had to.”

DeeAnn nodded.  She looked past Alison to the double doors leading to the lobby.

Alison followed her gaze with a curious look.  “What is it?”

“Sofia.”  DeeAnn looked back.  “I’ve been thinking about her since she first came here and especially after seeing her now.”  She looked down at the table, wiping it absently with her hand.  “I keep thinking about her in that wheelchair, knowing that the end was coming and yet still fighting.  She wasn’t ready to give up a single moment.  At least not willingly.”

Alison grinned.  “That’s true.”

DeeAnn shook her head.  “Can you imagine how afraid she’s been?  Every hour of every day, knowing what’s coming?  And she’s still fighting.”  She turned to Alison incredulously.  “She’s eight, Alison.  Eight!”

“Yet here I am.  At my age, afraid of what might happen by going back into that jungle.  But Sofia knows what’s going to happen.  I am trying to hide…while that girl is trying to live.  Do you know how small that makes me feel?  Or how horrible?”

“We all have to live our own lives, Dee.  We have to make our own decisions.”

DeeAnn shrugged.  “And now Steve is going back, trying to protect something that may cause almost unimaginable ramifications, both good and bad.  Something that any country would probably kill over.  And now what if that something was actually able to help Sofia?  What if it were able to help others like her?”

Alison didn’t answer.

“So, say something does happen to me, Ali.  Exactly how many more lives is mine worth?  And even worse, what happens to them if Steve fails…because I wouldn’t help?”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” Alison replied softly.

“No?  Then please tell me how I look someone like Sofia in the eyes from now on, after I refused to go?”

DeeAnn remained quiet, allowing the room to fall silent before she finally leaned forward and stood up.

Alison’s eyes widened.  “So…are you saying, you’re going with Steve?”

“Not without talking to Juan first.”

20

The small base which housed the infamous Naval Special Warfare Development Group (NSWDG), also known as DEVGRU, was smaller than most would imagine.  It was also quieter, located on fewer than fifteen acres, and hosted a dozen buildings of varying sizes.  The legendary base was also less elaborate than its reputation suggested, but what it lacked in visual awe from the outside, it more than made up for inside.

Less than four miles due south of Virginia Beach, the home of NSWDG in Dam Neck, Virginia, was rumored to have an operational training budget almost surpassing that of the entire U.S. Marine Corps.  This guaranteed that the team once known as SEAL Team Six had access to the most modern weapons and fighting technology available on the planet.  And the training areas both inside and below ground proved it.

It was also here, in the base’s southernmost and largely nondescript building, where Steve Caesare stared down at a large 3D tabletop image before him.  Resting his hands on either side, he was shaking his head slowly.  This was going to be difficult.

Serious missions were usually planned by multiple SEAL operators to ensure every conceivable scenario and logistical detail was considered.  But this time Caesare and his men were on their own.  Under direct orders from Admiral Langford, they were instructed to get in and out with the least number of people knowing, no matter what resources it took.  Whatever they needed, Langford would get.

But resources weren’t the problem.  In fact, Caesare was sure that no material item in the world, short of an invisibility cloak, was going to help them here.

The large Italian mused at his last thought, knowing the DoD was actually working on that very idea.  It was done by bending light with fiber optics, but it was still decades away.  All he knew was that a cloak like that would be damn handy about now.

Another problem was their inability to rehearse the mission prior to execution.  Rehearsals were something SEALs did without fail, followed by a thorough debrief.  This was the first mission the three younger team members would have without the benefit of either, and the concern was obvious on their chiseled faces.

Facing Caesare on all sides, Corso, Anderson, and Tiewater stood around the table, coming to similar conclusions.  Ignoring the fact that they’d never been sent to rescue a primate before, the logistics involved in getting in and out unseen were problematic at best.  And that was putting it mildly.

An army from Brazil’s Eighth Military Region was mobilizing at its base in Belem, the nearest base to the Acarai Mountains.   According to reports from Will Borger, the Guyana government was furious over what the Chinese had done and were denying all requests asking for access to the area.  And as facts inevitably began leaking out, their neighbors Venezuela and Suriname were doing the same.

Venezuela was out as an entry point for obvious reasons, and any other airport large enough for military aircraft was now asking questions too.  And many of the smaller airports were as well.  But even if they could make it in, ground transportation was another problem.  There were only two usable roads, each on either side of the mountain, both long and treacherous.  Tiago Otero and his army would be coming up the south side, leaving the only road available as the one that ended in Guyana’s capital city of Georgetown.  It was the same road the Chinese had carved into the mountain to get their treasure out, and it was already populated with local agencies investigating exactly what had happened at Acarai.

The chances of Caesare’s team getting to the top undetected were growing slimmer by the hour.

The partial 3D map in front of them displayed the area in impressive detail, including the multitude of surrounding peaks and elevations, displayed with tiny white numbers hovering over each peak.

“We’d still need two vehicles,” Corso said in a deep voice.  “And extra fuel to make it up.”

He was right.  That much uphill driving would require extra fuel.  They could ditch the cans once they reached the top, but it still meant less space for gear.  They’d need a second vehicle, which would provide some redundancy in case they ran into mechanical problems, but it also increased their chances of being spotted.

Standing to Caesare’s right, Tiewater shook his head.  “It’s not gonna work.  Even if we got transportation, there’s no way we’d make it to the top without being stopped.”

Caesare straightened and folded his arms.  He was right.  They wouldn’t have much problem disappearing once at the top, but it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t make it up first.

“Maybe we need a diversion.”

“Better be a damn good one,” Corso shrugged.  “If they’re stopping flights in and out, it means they’re already suspicious.”

Caesare frowned.  “And if they have any brains at all, they know a lot of people are already looking for other ways in.”

Anderson, the youngest of the four, was still staring at the map.  “Christ, we haven’t even left yet and this thing’s already FUBAR.”

Caesare’s phone rang in his pocket.  He pulled it out and raised an eyebrow at the number.  “Caesare here.”

After a moment, he glanced up at the other men.  “Well, hi there.”  He paused, listening.  “That’s good news…how soon?”  He checked his watch.  “Great.  We’ll be there.”

He hung up and turned his attention back to the men around the table.  “It looks like they’re in.”

“Draper and the monkey?”

“Gorilla,” Caesare corrected.  “And Juan Diaz, one of their tech guys.”

“Sounds like we got ourselves a full house.”

Caesare nodded pensively, his eyes back on the digital map.  “Yes, it does.”

They weren’t expecting Diaz, but it made sense.  However, given their difficulty finding a way into the jungle undetected, an extra person was going to make it that much harder.

The only option he could see was trying to get into the jungle from the West.  It was a significantly longer distance though, which meant it was a long shot.  Yet even if they managed to make it in, it immediately presented a much bigger problem.  Getting back out.

The option was feeling like a scenario in definition only.  Because he was pretty damn sure that both DeeAnn and Juan were going to hate the only insertion possibility he had so far.

21

At that same moment, Steve Caesare’s bigger problem was sitting comfortably in a leather chair, peering out a double-paned window at the scene unfolding below him.  From the air-conditioned third floor, Otero watched as over a hundred Brazilian soldiers assembled on the vast expanse of concrete outside.

So much for subtly.

Several covered trucks, all painted in the dark green colors of the Exército Brasileiro, also known as the land arm of the Brazilian Armed Forces, remained motionless nearby.  Already parked beside the row of transport trucks were two medium-sized fuel trucks, with more on their way.  The logistical challenges weren’t so much the men, it was the supplies.  Transporting food, water, fuel, and even ammunition, was a herculean task, especially over a narrow road hundreds of kilometers long.

Even Otero knew that an army’s supply chain was the most critical, and most vulnerable, component of any mission.  But he also knew things didn’t have to take so damn long.

He had managed to obtain an entire company, which involved pulling out all of Otero’s political stops.  But now, his goal of keeping things quiet was hopelessly lost, leaving Otero shaking his head in frustration.  Miraculously, most people believed that a government’s “bloat” somehow failed to transfer through to its military forces.  How wrong they were.  All bloat ran downhill, no matter what the nation.  And it was something Otero was painfully witnessing firsthand.

If the Brazilian government ever tried to run itself like a business, they would find themselves bankrupt.  Otero promptly caught himself, almost laughing at his own thought.  The Brazilian government was already bankrupt.

Russo, Otero’s head of security, approached from behind.  “Salazar is here.”

The older man continued peering forward as if not hearing but eventually turned his head.  “Wonderful.”

A grin spread across Russo’s face, and he moved next to the large window.  He watched the soldiers outside with a sense of nostalgia.  Something Otero didn’t share.

Unlike his boss, Russo had himself started in the army.  At that very base.  It was in Belem that he had completed his training to become an infantry officer and subsequently led his first platoon during the last year of the Araguaia Guerrilla War.

But Otero had no such fondness for the base or its soldiers.  He had never been in the military.  To Russo, he was little more than a rich politician.  Or perhaps a businessman with extremely deep pockets.  Pockets, of course, that also paid Russo’s rather generous salary, especially given Brazil’s current economic climate.

“This is not what I wanted,” Otero murmured from the chair.

Russo nodded.  “It’s going to make things messy.”

“Messy is an understatement.”

Both men heard the click of the door opening behind them, followed moments later by a louder clunk when it was closed.

Wearing his perfectly pressed uniform, a stout and balding Captain Salazar continued into the expansive meeting room, rounding the arm of a chair with a wry grin.

“Mr. Otero.  So good to see you,” he said in a sullen voice.  He reached out and offered his hand.

Otero shook it from his position but remained seated.  It was a clear gesture to the Army Captain.

The truth was that neither man liked the other.  Not a surprise given both their roles within a deeply corrupted government.  Just as it was in neighboring countries, the military complex was quickly eroding into an “every man for himself” mentality, and Salazar was the very personification of it.  Thankfully some government structure still remained, but given Otero’s urgency, Salazar and his company were the only available option.

“When will we be ready?”

“About four hours,” Salazar answered, between tight lips.  “But it will take at least two days to arrive.  Hundreds of kilometers on that road will not be fast.  And once we’re past Sipaliwini, we don’t know the full condition of the road.”

Otero nodded but said nothing.  He wondered if he’d made a mistake not taking Alves’ approach and flying up in a helicopter.  It would have cut the trip down to a few hours, but it also would have meant taking only a very small group of men.  Most likely not enough to find what they were looking for.  No, Alves had held a huge advantage, which was having the monkey in his possession already.  Now, finding the thing in the wild was going to require every man he could get.

Otero turned back and continued watching the soldiers loading their trucks in the sweltering heat.  He had no choice but to make do.  If they could leave today, they might still arrive before anyone else knew what they were up to.  Then secure the area to keep everyone else out.

And if things got messy, he had a plan to clean it all up once he had what he was after.  A plan that would also make this the last mission for Salazar and most of his men.

Putting his distaste for the man aside, Salazar and his men were little more than resources to Otero now.  Resources that would help him seize the ultimate prize.  And one which, thanks to a dead Alves and Blanco, no one else appeared to know about.

Otero took a deep breath and leaned his head back against the chair’s headrest.

Standing at the glass, Salazar continued watching his men in silence with his hands clasped behind his back.  It was imperative to maintain a relaxed appearance in front of Otero.  For what the billionaire didn’t know was that Salazar had a plan of his own: direct orders on what to do when he had Otero alone on the mountain. The old man was about to find out that his money and influence only went so far.

22

It took six hours before the convoy of trucks was finally moving.  In tight formation, they headed due south past Tucurui, crossing its half-mile-wide river.  From there, their route turned northwest over highway BR-230, also known as Brazil’s infamous Trans-Amazonian Highway.

Extending more than 4,000 kilometers through the heart of northern Brazil, the highway was conceived in the 1970s as a means of integrating the northern states with the rest of the country.  However, the project came to an abrupt halt when later in the same decade the Brazilian Financial Crisis left behind a devastated economy and vast stretches of the new highway completely unpaved.

Salazar’s lead car, a deep-green painted Humvee, was followed by Otero and Russo in a white Land Rover, driven by one of Russo’s men and another ex-military type named Dutra.

One by one, the stream of powerful belching trucks bounced over the rough dirt road, attracting little attention as they passed through increasingly smaller towns.  Trains of military vehicles had become almost commonplace with yet another deteriorating economy.  And like many floundering governments desperate to retain control of their populations, various aspects of martial law were already common throughout much of Brazilian life.

The convoy was headed for the northwestern forests of Pará.  It was Brazil’s second largest state, second only to Amazonas, and spanned a massive 1.2 million kilometers.  More importantly, it was the state which provided Salazar’s company the only clear route into the Acarai Mountains of southern Guyana.

Otero relaxed in the back seat, checking his email and messages on a small tablet.  The device finally lost connection as they pushed deeper into the jungle, which was fine with him.  He preferred no one know where he was, or better yet, where he was headed.

He slowed to read the last of his downloaded emails carefully.  It was from the lead contact for an international genetics team.  A team he paid to have flown quietly into Belem.  In the email, his contact confirmed the team and their equipment had left Munich and were due to arrive in seventeen hours.  They would be waiting when Otero and his team returned.

In a growing world of scientific privatization, the German team Genetik Jetzt was one of the best in the world.  They were confident they could not only isolate whatever genes Otero brought back within a few weeks, but could also have a prototype retrovirus designed within three months.

The team agreed to then test the prototype on human subjects, provided they were outside any medical regulations protecting Brazilian citizens.  Subjects that were in no position to complain should something go awry, which it always did.  And Otero knew exactly who those subjects would be.  During his years backing some of the largest mining giants in South America, there was one group he had truly come to despise.  The Kayapó.  A group of indigenous tribes who had been sabotaging his efforts for decades.  Tribes who continually waged war against the machines they insisted were destroying their native lands.  Most were cooperative, but some small pockets of the Kayapó proved to be devastating to people like Otero.  But individually, they could be captured and used for a far greater good than anything their simple minds could have fathomed.  One of the most incredible leaps in human development.  A leap now miraculously within his own reach.

Yet despite his materialistic and opportunistic flaws, Otero was still a patriot.  Even without a sense of basic compassion, he remained a man deeply rooted to his nation and its former glory.  His mighty country was destined to rise again, but this time it would not be through iron ore, oil, or even soybeans.  Instead, it would be through the control of perhaps the greatest evolutionary achievement in man’s history.  An achievement that would drive every powerful government to align with Brazil, through either desire or desperation.  And he would be the one to control it all.  He would be the one to help his once proud country return to greatness.

Sitting directly in front of Otero, in the Land Rover’s passenger seat, Russo had a very different thought.  He could clearly see the change taking place in his boss’s thinking.  He was growing paranoid and obsessed, with thoughts becoming more linear and one-dimensional over what may or may not lie in the mountains.  It was sheer folly as far as Russo was concerned.  He’d seen more than his share of desperate, aging men pursuing big dreams only to have their spirits crushed by reality in the end.  Dreams forever promising to deliver a miracle to change the world.  The details were different, but the quest and the conclusion were always the same.

Otero’s obsession was some kind of magical DNA stored in the bones of a monkey now hiding in the jungles of Guyana.  Something Russo wasn’t all that worried over.  He had a much more practical concern.

Someone was watching Otero, which meant they were also watching him.  One of his men was dead with another still in the hospital.  Both were ordered to eliminate the rest of Miguel Blanco’s bloodline, but instead his men had found someone even deadlier waiting for them.  And that someone appeared to be an American.

Russo’s man in the hospital claimed they barely saw the attacker before he pounced.  But how did he know?  How did he know either of the men was coming?

Even worse, Russo was convinced the man waiting for them had been a U.S. Navy SEAL.  The marking he left on Carlos’s jacket was clear.  But was it a warning…or an invitation?

The obvious link was the CIA, but Otero’s attention was waning quickly as this new obsession slowly consumed him.  Otero could no longer see the more pressing threat before them, nor could he conceive that it might just be the beginning.  If the threat were confirmed, all the DNA in the world wouldn’t help either of them in a war with the CIA.

Yet while Russo remained concerned, he was far from vulnerable.  He still had contacts within Brazil’s intelligence agency, the ABIN.  A group who was utterly ruthless when it came to tracking down information.  Eventually, they would find out who the American was.  And then the predator would become the prey.

23

Russo was just approaching the Guyanese border when the man who both he and Brazil’s ABIN agents were searching for stepped off a plane in Puerto Rico.

For the second time in a week, Steve Caesare hailed a cab from outside the small airport.  This time, however, his team remained to supervise the transfer of their equipment aboard a Beechcraft C-12 Huron.  Based on two older Beechcraft variants, the C-12 was a thirteen seat, multi-use aircraft with primary duties of general transport and small-scale medical evacuations in other countries.  It was the aircraft’s latter reputation that Caesare was counting on to help avoid undue attention while flying over a few unfriendly countries in South America.

Now resting on a private corner of the Mercedita Airport’s tarmac, the C-12 was quickly being refueled and prepared for its nonstop flight to Iquitos, Peru.  The fifth largest city in the country by size, Iquitos was the largest city inside Peru’s tropical and seemingly endless rainforest.

Caesare knew their options still hadn’t gotten any better as he watched the palm trees zip past him from inside the taxi.  He was deliberating the best time to break things to DeeAnn and decided it was too soon, knowing they still had another seven hours before reaching Iquitos. There was still a chance another scenario could present itself, but he was no longer holding his breath.  Especially when the problem was neither DeeAnn nor Juan.  It was Dulce.

He reached the research center in less than fifteen minutes and found DeeAnn exactly where he expected her to be.  In Dulce’s man-made tropical habitat.

She was sitting with her back against the glass wall, playing a simplified game of tic-tac-toe with the gorilla.

In her hand, Dulce held a stick of bright green chalk and studied a large blackboard on the ground between them.  The grid lines were preprinted on the board with X’s and O’s drawn inside.  Not surprisingly, Dulce’s X’s looked like anything but X’s, when compared to DeeAnn’s.  Her O’s were drawn as perfectly as possible as an aid for Dulce, who was practicing her manual dexterity.

Dulce heard Caesare’s footsteps first and tilted her small furry head, peering curiously down the concrete walkway.  When she saw Caesare appear from under the shadowed overhang, the small gorilla immediately leaped to her feet and ran excitedly to the clear door.

Steve here!  Steve here!

When he reached the door, Caesare smiled down at her and turned to punch the entry code into the keypad behind him.  After a loud click, he pushed the heavy glass door open just in time to catch Dulce in his arms.

“There’s my sweetheart.”  Caesare suppressed a muffled groan from the strain in his side and gingerly raised his left arm to rub her head.

The word sweetheart no longer produced the familiar rejection tone after Lee Kenwood had manually programmed the unknown word into IMIS’s vocabulary.  The giant computer now translated the literal definition of Dulce’s own name as the word, but Dulce still managed to pick up on the affection in Caesare’s voice.

Under his dark black hair, he glanced down at DeeAnn, who was still seated on a patch of grass.  “Everything okay?”

She stood up and forced a grin.  “As okay as we’ll ever be.”

We go find friend.  Dulce announced.

Caesare tilted his head back from Dulce’s wide smile.  “You need a breath mint.  How much celery have you eaten?”

Dulce looked at him curiously when IMIS failed to translate.

Caesare laughed and gave her a squeeze.  “I’m joking.”  He then winked at DeeAnn.  “Kind of.”

DeeAnn’s grin seemed to grow more sincere.  “She’s been practically jumping up and down since I told her.”

“I bet.”

She checked her watch.  “Juan should be down in a few minutes.  He’s bringing some equipment.”

“I figured as much.”  Caesare glanced down at Dulce, who fell silent once again comparing the hair on her lanky forearm with his.  “You look more Italian than I do,” he said to her.

DeeAnn watched with amusement and then answered his next question before he could ask it.  “I’m not sure how she’s going to do, but so far so good.”

“Listen, Dee.  I really appreciate you coming.  I know it’s not easy.  Considering your last trip, I-”

“I told you I hate it when you call me Dee.”

“What can I say?  I have bad manners.  My father seems to think I was born in a barn.”

DeeAnn reached down and depressed a button on the front of her vest, muting the microphone.  “I suppose it just took a little time for me to come around.  But I get it.  This isn’t about us.  Ali told me about what you guys found, and she’s right, there has to be a link to Dexter.”

“Let’s hope so.  And let’s also hope he’s easy to find.”

She watched pensively as Caesare dropped his gaze briefly back down to Dulce and gave her a quick peck on the top of her head.

“Well, even if he is hard to find, he won’t be hard to spot when we do.”

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear how Alves and his men came across Dexter?”

“I thought it was your researcher friend that found him.”

“It was.  But it was how they spotted him that made them realize there was something unique about Dexter.  It was at a poacher’s camp.  They’d caught dozens of capuchins and were packing them in cages, getting ready to ship them to the coast.  Capuchins fetch a high premium on the black market.”

Caesare continued listening.

“You see, Dexter wasn’t caught with the others.  He was caught after the fact when they spotted him in the darkness trying to get the ropes securing the cages undone.  And apparently he’d almost succeeded.”

“What?”

DeeAnn caught herself smiling.  “That’s when they knew.”

“He was trying to spring the others?”

“Evidently.  Don’t get me wrong, primates are smart, but not like that.  This monkey is damn smart, which is what I meant when I said you’d notice him when you saw him.  There’s something different in his eyes.  Something almost eerie.”

“How is it eerie?”

“More like he’s watching you.  Even more than you feel it with Dulce.”

“That should help.  And hopefully we’ll have a little luck on our side.”

DeeAnn grinned and reached out for Dulce.  “Let’s hope.  Alves was lucky to find Dexter, twice.  I helped him the second time, but I’m sure this time is going to be much harder.  It isn’t just his smarts that make him special.  It’s his age.  He’s older than he’s supposed to be, a lot older, which has only added to his intelligence.”

Caesare watched DeeAnn, noting a momentary change in her eyes.  “What is it?”

She blinked and looked back at him.  “I’ve been thinking.  It’s the DNA we’re after here…but we also need to find Dexter for a very different reason too.”

“And what is that?”

After a quiet moment, she continued with a question.  “Do you know who Lucy is?”

Caesare thought about it and grinned.  “Like from Peanuts?”

“I mean Lucy as in the nickname for Australopithecus.  The skeleton found in Ethiopia in the 70's.”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Lucy is the skeleton of the first bipedal, small-brained hominin that lived about three million years ago.  The first one found with a small brain like primates but one that walks like us.  It’s pretty well accepted now, at least genetically speaking, but the fact is that it’s still technically a hypothesis.  Of course, a lot of scientific hypotheses were like that; theories that weren’t proven correct until years later.  Sometimes decades.”  She took a deep breath.  “But here’s the thing.  To many, Lucy is the missing link.  The link in our own evolutionary path where things…changed.  She represents an important threshold, a time and place where the most significant leap in human history took place.  The catalyst.”

DeeAnn paused momentarily, a thoughtful look on her face.  “What I’m saying is that Lucy is arguably the most important thing to have happened to us.  All of us.  Imagine how profound it would have been to have witnessed that incredible evolutionary moment.  The single lifespan of a primate that changed everything.”

Caesare’s face was serious as he listened intently.

“Steven,” she said.  “Dexter is that moment!  Or at least a re-creation of it.  Dexter is the modern Lucy.  A primate who’s made the same leap across an evolutionary gap.  We’ll never know exactly how it happened with Lucy, but we can watch it unfold with him.”  She watched the expression change on Caesare’s face.  “Do you see what I’m getting at?  We have a chance to witness the equivalent of our evolutionary birth firsthand!  It’s a scientific opportunity of almost unimaginable significance.”

Caesare was staring at her.  This went way beyond anything he’d even considered.  “Wow.”

DeeAnn grinned.  “Wow is right.  But that’s not all.  It’s not just that we have the opportunity to observe this…but now we also have the technology to actually communicate with him as it’s happening!”

Caesare’s jaw suddenly dropped.  If he had been surprised by her last point, he was now completely stunned.  It was a moment Clay and Borger would have given anything to witness.  Steve Caesare was…speechless.

DeeAnn continued staring at him while he processed it all.  The moment reminded her of why, deep down, she liked him so much.  Inside, beyond his gruff and boisterous exterior, Caesare was smart.  Smart enough to appreciate such an earth-shattering possibility.

As they stood together in silence, the sound of voices approached from the main hallway leading out from the lab.  Dulce immediately jumped from DeeAnn’s arms and ran several steps back to the glass wall.  She turned and spoke excitedly but nothing could be heard with the vest’s speaker still off.  A few seconds later, Juan Diaz and Lee Kenwood emerged into the warm sunlight.

Caesare turned and watched them approach.  He spoke to DeeAnn in a lowered tone.  “I take it that’s why Juan agreed to go back too?”

“No,” she replied.  “Juan agreed to go back for a very different reason.”

24

By the time they had arrived back at the airport, the late afternoon humidity had tapered off, thanks to a heavy cloud cover crawling across the Puerto Rican sky.  A strong scent of dew hung in the air, warning of approaching rain.  Light drops were already forming on the taxi’s windshield as it came to a stop.

After putting the minivan into park, the taxi driver promptly pushed his door open and climbed out, sliding back the rear left side door.  Caesare stepped out from the front passenger’s seat and did the same on the passenger side, allowing DeeAnn to emerge still clutching Dulce’s furry hand.

Simultaneously, Juan stepped out on the driver’s side.  Each took a deep breath with the same feeling of apprehension.  A sense driven home when DeeAnn felt Dulce’s grip tighten around her own hand.  Apparently Dulce was feeling it too.

Neither she nor Juan spoke.  Instead, they merely stood gazing at the small aircraft.  Even Alison, after climbing out behind them, realized what it was.  The C-12 Huron was in almost the exact same spot on the tarmac where Mateus Alves’ private jet had been just a few weeks before.  A plane both DeeAnn and Juan wished they had never boarded.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

DeeAnn fought to suppress her anxiety before managing to nod her head.  “I’m fine.”  She swallowed hard and then grabbed her heavy backpack, slinging it over a shoulder.  She tugged Dulce’s hand reassuringly and stepped forward.  Behind her, Caesare leaned inside and grabbed her large bag.

Juan Diaz wasn’t so eager.  He reluctantly pulled his heavily padded duffel bag from the back of the taxi, placing it on the ground.  He watched as the others approached the airplane and as Caesare climbed a short set of stairs, ducking his head inside the oval doorway.  Several moments later a man emerged from the darkened interior.

Juan’s mouth dropped.  If Caesare was big, the man in the doorway was enormous.  So large that he had to duck down and squeeze his shoulders forward just to step through.  And not only was he huge, but he also looked to be made out of pure muscle.

Behind him, two more men came through the door, descending toward the tarmac behind Caesare and the hulk.  The other two were both Caesare’s height, or maybe slightly shorter, and had strong yet slimmer builds.  The one in the rear looked like he was barely out of his teens.  What struck Juan immediately as he picked up his bag again and approached was that all three men exhibited an unspoken but very distinctive edge, just as Caesare did.

At the base of the metal stairs, Caesare introduced his men.  The hulk was a man named Corso and shook Juan’s hand with what felt like an iron paw.  The two others — Tiewater and the youngest looking SEAL, Anderson — seemed more approachable but with handshakes just as strong.

Juan watched as Corso’s gaze moved between each of them, stopping on Dulce.  He studied the small gorilla in DeeAnn’s arms with a glowering expression, eventually turning back to Caesare when he spoke.

“We don’t have a lot of time.  Have we missed anything?”

“We’re ready,” DeeAnn said, turning back toward Alison.  She and Dulce both hugged their friend, then headed promptly up the stairs.

Tiewater smiled at Juan and reached to take his duffle bag.  “Can I get that for you?”

“Thank you.”  With heavy steps, Juan followed him up.  The last thing he wanted to do was go back, but he had to admit, having Caesare and the other SEALs helped.  If he had to go, he was glad it was with them.

At the base of the stairs, Alison remained next to Caesare.  Together they watched Juan and DeeAnn disappear with the others, one by one, through the open door to the C-12’s cabin.

“They’re afraid to be going back,” she offered.

“Yes, they are.”

Alison looked up at him.  “You’re not going to let anything happen to them, right?”

A smile spread over Caesare’s tanned jawline.  “Not a chance.”

25

Later that evening, Alison watched from inside as the Embraer 190 touched down on the single runway of Mercedita Airport.  There, it slowed and eventually turned toward the small terminal, located within the Vayas barrio.  Outside, the rain was finally beginning to let up.  Much like Miami, the smaller rainstorms usually moved through quickly and that evening was no exception.

Flight 667 was the last for the airport that night and most of the local employees had long since headed home.  Alison was one in only a handful of people — just a few small families — waiting inside the terminal. She watched with an amused expression as two young children ran back and forth giggling in a game of tag.

Once the airliner began de-boarding, it took less than five minutes for Neely Lawton to appear through the double doors, pulling a large suitcase behind her.  She was dressed in shorts and a dark blue tank top with no indication she was anything other than a tourist on vacation.

Alison smiled and closed the distance, meeting her with a warm hug.  “How are you, Neely?”

“I’m okay, thanks.  How about you?”

“Busy but good.”  She glanced at the suitcase and then around the room.  “Do you have any more bags?”

“Nope, this is it.  Got everything I need.”

“Excellent.  Follow me then.”

Once outside, the two walked briskly through the drizzling rain to a parking lot which appeared long overdue for repaving.  Neely’s mouth curled into amusement when Alison stopped and opened the back of a white Nissan Leaf.

“Electric, eh?”

“Don’t tell me you’re surprised.  An environmental girl like me?”

Neely chuckled and lifted her suitcase in.  “Not surprised at all.”

Alison grinned, closing the trunk.  The rain began to pick up, prompting them both to open their doors and climb in.

Inside, Alison relaxed and turned in her seat.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I guess I’m as well as can be under the circumstances.  Thank you, though.  To be honest, I think your call was just the distraction I needed.”  She leveled her eyes at Alison.  “Even if a little cryptic.”

“Sorry about that.  I wasn’t in a position to say much on the phone.  There’s something important I need your help with.”

Neely brushed a strand of damp hair away from her face.  “What kind of work?  You said it was something similar to what was aboard the Bowditch.”

“I think so.”

Neely’s voice rose with some excitement.  “Where did you get it?”

“Well, that’s where things get a little…interesting.  I don’t actually have anything per se.  That’s what I need your help with.”

“What does that mean?  You don’t have anything?”

“I don’t have an actual specimen.  But I think there’s a strong relationship here.”

Alison could see the look of excitement on Neely’s face begin to fade.

“I don’t understand.  If you don’t have a specimen, what exactly do you think is related?”

Alison bit her bottom lip momentarily, thinking.  “I think I need to explain a few things first.  To catch you up.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not a sample exactly.  It’s more like…a reaction.”

“A reaction.”

“Right.”

“A reaction of what?”

“It’s a reaction to something,” Alison replied.  “It’s the reaction itself that’s similar.  When we were on the Bowditch, that sample you had was growing.  Faster than normal, right?”

“Much faster.  The growth rate was remarkable, and it had a DNA sequence we’d never seen before.  But the sample was lost when we were attacked.”  She then looked at Alison curiously.  “Where exactly is this going?”

“Neely, when you were explaining to us what the DNA did to the plant, I believe you said it was actually regenerating.”

“That’s right.”

“Which no other plant can do.”

“Not to that extent, no.”

“Regenerating as in healing, correct?”

“It was more than just healing.  The entire structure was being regenerated by cells that were lost or nearly dead.”

“Like cancer cells.”

Neely raised an eyebrow.  How did Alison know that?  It was a comparison she’d used on a call with Admiral Langford.

“Not exactly like cancer cells.  Regeneration implies a coordinated function of cells and tissues with a goal of restoring form and function.  Cancer cells don’t do that.  They destroy the cells.  But they can, however, live for a very long time.  Some even live forever under the right conditions.  What was similar in those plants wasn’t necessarily their cellular restoration but their growth rate.  Those plant cells were growing almost exponentially.  Faster than most cancers.”

Neely stopped to consider something.  “Actually, I suppose cancer cells do have a sort of healing effect, which is the constant creation of newly infected tumors cells.  So in a strange way they could be healing, but they’re healing the tumor, which in the end is trying to kill its host.  The healing properties of the plants we found were much more powerful, and they were far more constructive than destructive.”

Alison nodded.  “That’s what I thought.  And that’s why I asked Admiral Langford for your help.”  She sighed.  “Okay.  Now what I’m about to tell you might sound a little strange, so hear me out.”

Neely raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

“A couple weeks after I got back, a woman named Lara Santiago came to our lab.  She was almost in tears.  Her daughter Sofia has leukemia and asked if we could arrange to have her in for a private visit.”

“That was nice.”

“It was nothing,” Alison shrugged.  “Well, maybe not nothing, but arranging for her to swim with the dolphins was worth it.  This is where it gets a little strange though.  Sofia came back a couple days later.  And when Dee and I saw her, we were shocked.”

Neely’s eyebrows suddenly furrowed, curious.  “Shocked good or shocked bad?”

“Good!  Really good,” she said.  “Almost…too good.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means when she came back, she was noticeably better.  And stronger.”

Neely thought it over.  “Well, that’s not overly unusual. Partial remissions are well-documented in cancer patients.  Short windows of mental clarity, improved dexterity, and even a sudden surge in strength are very common.”  Neely frowned.  “Is this related to the healing effects you were asking about?  If so, then what you saw in the girl’s condition may not be what you think it is.”

Alison considered Neely’s point.  The last thing she wanted was to be wrong on this.  Eventually though, her head began to shake.  “No, this is not a temporary remission.  I’m sure of it.  I’ve been doing research and this is beyond any of the similarities I’ve read about.  She wasn’t just more coordinated or clearheaded.  When she came in the first time, she was in a wheelchair and had to be lifted in and out of it.  But when she came back, that little girl was standing.”

“Standing?”

“Standing,” Alison confirmed.  “On her own.”

Neely was surprised.  “Are you suggesting something happened when the girl was in the water?”

Alison absently rested a hand on her steering wheel and nodded at Neely.  “I think so.”

“Like what?”

“Before I answer that I need to tell you something else.  Something that may actually shock you.”

Amused, Neely gave a slight smirk.  “Okay, let me have it.”

Alison took another deep breath.  “You remember what happened to our boat not too far from Trinidad?”

“Yes.”  Neely’s nod was slow.  She hadn’t been there, but she’d heard what happened to Alison and her team.  Pirates had savagely beaten both Chris and Lee before turning their attention to Alison and her colleague, Kelly.   If it hadn’t been for John Clay and Steve Caesare, things would have no doubt turned out very differently.

“The reason we were out there in the first place was because of Dirk and Sally.”

“Your dolphins?”

“Yes.  We were following them to a place they wanted to show us.  We thought it was something nearby, like a local habitat or migration.  But it wasn’t.  It was much bigger.”

Neely continued listening.

“About a hundred miles east of Trinidad, we found something we’d never dreamed of.  By then, we were expecting a large breeding ground with maybe a couple hundred dolphins.  What we found was something else, and instead of hundreds there were thousands.”

Neely Lawton’s eyes widened.  “Thousands?”

Alison smiled.  “Tens of thousands.  From the boat, dolphins were all we could see.  Everywhere.  In every direction.”

“My God.  What-”

“I don’t know exactly what it is.  But there’s definitely something there and it’s very important to them.  And now…I think it may be related not just to Sofia’s sudden change, but to the plants you were studying as well.”

Neely blinked.  “I’m afraid I’m not seeing the connection.”

“John told me about the plant he retrieved from one of those Chinese trucks.  He said the sample he gave you was larger than almost anything he’d seen before.”

“It was,” Neely confirmed reluctantly.

“That’s the connection,” Alison said.

“What is?  Their size?”

“Yes.  When we were there in the ocean with all those dolphins, we dove under the water.”  She lowered her voice.  “Neely, I’ve been diving hundreds of times and I know what underwater vegetation looks like.  What we saw down there were plants several times larger than they should have been and growing out as far as I could see.”

“What?”

“Some of them were giant, Neely. Giant.  I think there’s something in that water near Trinidad.  And I think Dirk and Sally somehow brought some of it back with them.”

Neely stared at her with a look of astonishment.

“And that’s not all.  You remember how bad Chris and Lee were injured, don’t you?”

“Of course, they were in the infirmary.  How are they?”

Alison began to answer but stopped to consider her words.  This was all sounding so unbelievable.  “They’re healed, Neely.”

“What?”

“Healed.  As in…completely.”

“They’re healed?!”

“Yes.”

Her eyes opened even wider.  “In three weeks?”

Alison nodded.  “There’s not a mark on them.  Even my wrist is better.  But Lee had broken ribs, which should take months.  He says his pain is gone.”

Neely leaned back against her door, stunned.  “And they were in the water with the little girl?”

“No!” Alison exclaimed.  “But they were in the water at Trinidad.  Before we were attacked.”

Neely stared at her, blinking absently.  “Maybe they weren’t hurt as bad as originally thought.”

“I thought of that.  It’s definitely possible…with me and Chris.  But Lee had X-rays.  He had two very real cracks.”

Neely was struggling.  Her world relied on proof and empirical evidence.  What she was getting from Alison certainly wasn’t proof, but it was very compelling.  And Alison certainly didn’t strike her as someone who jumped to conclusions.  She was extremely intelligent and no doubt, from her own work, understood the importance of objectivity.

She raised her head and focused again on Alison.  “So when do I get to meet your dolphins?”

26

Hello Alison.

“Hello, Sally.  How are you?”  Alison approached the glass tank.  Outside, the night sky had given up the last of its light, creating a clear reflection of Alison under the bright lights of the observation room.

Me good.  Who you friend?

“Her name is-” Alison stopped with a small grin.  If IMIS hadn’t originally been able to translate her name, it sure wasn’t going to be able to translate Neely’s.

She turned to Neely, who could be seen in the reflection standing behind her.  “We’re going to have to have Lee code a name in for you.”

She turned back to the tank.  “Let’s call her “friend” for now.”

Okay.  Hello friend.

Neely stared at Sally with a look of astonishment on her face.   “H-hello, Sally,” she whispered.

Alison glanced around the tank.  “Where’s Dirk?”

He gone.  Come back.

“I see.”

Where DeeAnn?

“DeeAnn isn’t here.  She’s gone on a trip.”  Alison quickly corrected herself for the sake of IMIS.  “I mean she’s gone on a journey.”

Sally moved her tail but said nothing.

Alison folded her arms and glanced back at Neely.  “You just missed her.  They left earlier this afternoon with Steve Caesare.”

Neely’s gaze was on the tank but darted quickly back to Alison.  “Steve Caesare was here?”

“Yes.  Just a few hours ago.”

Alison watched with bemusement at the obvious look of interest in Neely’s eyes.  She’d picked up on it before when observing the two aboard the Bowditch.    Neely had a crush on Steve Caesare, even though she fought to hide it.  Alison couldn’t blame her.  In spite of Caesare’s brashness, he did have an undeniable charm to him.  And a girl would be hard-pressed to find a manlier individual.  Except perhaps John Clay, of course.

She continued watching Neely, who was now attempting to suppress a hint of self-consciousness before turning back around to Sally.

“Sally, I have a favor to ask you.”

Me favor you.

Alison smiled.  Clearly IMIS’s translation still wasn’t perfect.

“We’d like to take a fresh sample.  Would that be okay?”

From the other side of the glass, Sally studied Alison with her perpetually fixed dolphin grin.

You happy fast.

Alison turned to Neely.  “She means excited.”  She looked back to Sally and spoke into the microphone.  “Yes, Sally.  We are.”

After a long silence, Sally responded.  Yes Alison.  Sample now.

Given the problems with obtaining blood samples from dolphins, the most common method for Dirk and Sally’s checkups were through the collection of small skin samples.  It allowed Alison’s team to check for a number of contaminants and other dangerous biomarkers.

Of course, this time she and Neely were looking for something very different.

Sally continued watching them from within the tank, but said nothing.  Both of the women were clearly excited, but what neither realized was that Sally had a surprise of her own.

27

Chris Ramirez looked away just as Neely leaned over him, bringing the needle in gently.  Leaning forward in his chair, he kept his attention to the side until the sharp pain subsided and the needle was well into his arm.

“Man, that smarts.”

“Sorry,” Neely muttered.  “I was never the best phlebotomist.”  She gently slid her hand down to support the small tube filling up with blood.

Behind them, Lee was standing several feet away with one finger holding a tiny cotton swab in place.  “So what exactly are we looking for?”

“Erythrocyte behavior.”

Lee glanced at Chris.  “That doesn’t sound good.”

Neely laughed.  “It sounds spookier than it is.  I just want to observe the growth rate of your red blood cells, also known as erythrocytes.  They’re the most common cells in our bodies and have a tightly regulated lifespan before they are recycled by our macrophages.  If there have been nucleic changes affecting cellular regeneration, we’re likely to see it at the erythrocyte level.”

“Well, I’m not sure what you just said, but I’m hoping for some kind of super power.”

She grinned without looking up.  “Any specific super powers you want me to look for?”

Lee thought it over.  “Flying is always good.  Or bulletproof skin maybe.”

“Maybe we should start smaller,” Chris added.  “Like the ability for him to eat better.”

“Very funny.”

Neely slid the needle out and pressed a swab against Chris’s arm.  She then untied the rubber strap from around his bicep.  “Should I check Mr. Kenwood’s cholesterol while we’re at it?”

Next to the table, Alison peered at Chris.  “Someone doesn’t have a whole lot of room to talk.  They both need to be checked.”

Chris stood up and patted his stomach with his free hand.  “All muscle, baby.”

She laughed and stepped forward as Neely checked the seal on the small vial.  “You guys are just lucky we had human-sized syringes here.  That could have been much more unpleasant.”  She gathered the rest of the items and returned them to the box, then handed it to Alison.  “Okay.  Now I just need a lab.”

Following the closure of the Army’s Puerto Rican general hospital in 1949, along with Fort Brooke, the Rodriguez Army Health Clinic remained the primary medical facility for all active military personnel on the island.

It was from a large secured door in Building 21 that Medical Service Corps Officer J. Prodol stepped out into the lobby where he found both women.

“Commander Lawton?”

“Here,” Neely said, stepping forward.

Even though she was both indoors and out of uniform, Prodol still gave a respectful nod.  At six foot three and two hundred and forty pounds, Prodol almost towered over both women.

“I’ve been instructed to escort you to our lab as soon as possible.”  He glanced at the small cooler in Neely’s right hand.  “Is there anything you need that I can secure for you?”

“No, thank you.”  She shook her head and immediately passed through the door as he held it open.  Alison promptly followed as did Prodol, who then escorted them down a short white hallway.  At the end, they turned and continued through a much wider hall.

Just before reaching the end, Prodol retrieved a key card attached to his belt loop and pressed it against a flat scanner.  A red light turned green and the door to his left made a loud click.  With that, he pulled it open and stepped through.

“It’s not much, but we should have most of what you need.”  He crossed the room, passing two researchers perched in front of their oversized computer monitors and stopped before a larger set of double doors.  He repeated the step with his access card and pulled the right-hand door open.

Inside, the Clinic’s lab was larger than either was expecting, filled with three rows of familiar beige tables and shelves.  The chairs were upholstered in a sharp royal blue matching the white/blue motif of the room, a common look for most modern laboratories.

Prodol motioned to the nearby equipment.  “We have five microscopes –– two inverted and three confocal.  The centrifuge and hemocytometer are both behind you and most supplies can be found in the cabinets above them.  Per my instructions, the room has been cleared for your use only, and for as long as you need.”

Alison was impressed.  She turned to Neely, who scanned the room.

Prodol handed her a business card with the Clinic’s logo on the front.  “Please take your time.  If there is anything you need, feel free to ring me on my mobile.  Restrooms are outside.”

“Thank you.  I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

Prodol smiled politely and excused himself from the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as it clicked shut, Neely moved to the silver tabletop refrigerator and transferred her samples from the cooler.

She then grinned at Alison.  “Let’s find the coffee.”

Several hours later, Neely Lawton leaned away from the confocal microscope and rolled her chair back.  “I think we have something.”

Alison stepped forward from behind her and peered into both eyepieces.  It was filled with a sample of red blood cells, grouped together in dense pink clumps, each cell with the recognizable indentations in the middle.

“Are these from Sally?”

“Yes.”  She brought up an image on the screen.  “These are Sally’s,” she said, pointing to the first.  “And these are Lee’s red blood cells.”

“They look almost the same.”

Neely nodded.  “Most mammalian RBCs look pretty similar.”

Alison peered harder at Lee’s samples.  “Are they supposed to be doing something?”

“Not necessarily.  The normal life span of red blood cells is between a hundred to a hundred and twenty days.  If Lee or Chris’s systems were exhibiting anything similar to the plants, we should see many more cells in these clusters by now, showing a sharp acceleration in cell production.  But we’re not, which means their underlying DNA hasn’t changed.”

“You mean not like the plants.”

“Exactly.  And it’s just as I was expecting.  On the ship, it was immediately obvious that something was different about the plants, which is why we investigated deeper.  Their cells were replicating at an astonishing rate.  But DNA changes don’t work that fast.  It’s evolutionary, which means it takes a number of generations, and mutations, for a change to take effect.”

“So a lot of time then,” Alison murmured.

“Well, yes and no.  I actually have a friend who likes to argue with me, insisting that the sheer number of genes in a living organism is too vast.  And that even if a significant change occurred with every single generation, a billion years still isn’t enough time to accommodate an evolutionary path that gets us to where we are today.  But my point to him is that he’s thinking too linearly.  His argument is true until you consider that every second of every day, there are trillions, even quadrillions, of cells in every life form on the planet that are constantly splitting and replicating.  And even if a mutation does not result in a significant biological change, there are trillions elsewhere that have.  And given enough time, those changes will eventually coalesce throughout the species, and in some cases, between species.”

“And how does that apply to us?”

“Sorry.  I was just making a point that DNA changes can happen faster than most people think, but yeah, it still takes time.  DNA doesn’t change overnight.  A lot longer than a few weeks, and the exposure would have to be very intrusive, something at a cellular level.”

“So nothing with Sally either.”

At that, the corner of Neely’s lip curled.  “I didn’t say that.  I was speaking only about the men’s samples.”

Alison looked at her with an anxious trace of excitement.  “Well, what does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not intimately familiar with the biology of dolphins, but most mammals’ red blood cells have replication speeds that fall within a certain range.  And Sally’s are well outside of that.  In other words, hers are replicating significantly faster.”

“Really?!”

“Really.  It’s not nearly as fast as I saw in the plants, but it’s faster than I’m guessing it should be.  And much faster than either Lee or Chris’s.”

“So I was right about Dirk and Sally?”

“Maybe,” Neely said.  “There could be several reasons for the growth rate in their cells.  We won’t know until I put this through a DNA sequencer. It’s also a long shot that we’d find the exact same base order as the plants had.”

“But you found it before.”

She looked up at Alison.  “Only because the behavior was so similar to cancer cells.  I knew where to look.”

“So now what?”

“Now I need to find a sequencer.  The Army doesn’t have one here.”

“How hard is that?”

“Not very, they’re pretty common these days.  Lots of small private labs have them.  All we probably need is a phone book.”

Alison gave her a sarcastic grin.  “What’s a phone book?”

28

Alison awoke to the sound of a crying child and felt a brush of air as someone walked past her.  Gradually, she opened her eyes and lifted her head off a firm vinyl seat.  It took a moment to recognize the large room and to recount how she had gotten there.

It was almost two a.m. before she and Neely located a sequencer in a location that was still open.  Most businesses in Puerto Rico closed much earlier than in the States, so she considered it nothing short of a miracle when they found an available machine in San Juan at the Auxilio Mutuo, the largest civilian hospital in Puerto Rico.  After a few phone calls, a tired and disheveled technician appeared in the parking lot to escort them to the Genetics Lab.

The process of sequencing was not fast, which was why Neely had sent her out to get some sleep.  Now, in the hospital’s main waiting room, Alison sat up and rubbed her eyes while a small ten-year-old girl watched curiously from another chair, next to her father.

Alison checked her watch and smiled at the girl, who smiled back.  It was just past six.  She was just about to stand up when someone spoke from behind her.

“Good morning.”

She turned to see Neely approaching from behind a row of chairs.

“Were you up all night?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Neely replied.  “Besides, it feels good to get back into work.”

“I can understand that.  Did you find anything?”

“I did,” a tired Neely nodded.  “And I have good news and bad news.”

Alison frowned.  “Bad first.”

“I don’t see the base order we found in the plants in Sally’s DNA.  But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not there.  It’s possible they mutated somewhere else in the dolphin’s genetic code.  But finding them will take time.”

“Or…it’s not there at all.”

“Well, that was my first thought.”

Alison sighed and slumped back down in her chair.  “I guess I got ahead of myself on this one.”

“Under the circumstances, I’d probably feel the same way.”  Neely eased herself into a chair across from Alison.  “But…I don’t think you have.”

Alison did a double-take back at Neely, who was now grinning.  “What?”

“We haven’t talked about the good news yet.”

“What’s the good news?”

“I may not have found the DNA order we discovered on the Bowditch…but I did find some other cells acting very differently.  And it wasn’t in the blood.  Very small amounts of collagen cells appear to be replicating much faster than even the RBCs.”

“Collagen cells are one of the primary components in blubber!”

“Exactly.”

“I thought you said the DNA wasn’t there.”

“Well, I was speaking of the blood cells.  That was the majority of the sample.  But the same is true for the collagen cells.  No base markers.”

“But if their DNA hasn’t changed, how are they replicating faster?”

“I have no idea.  But normally, cell behavior is influenced by one of two triggers, either an internal or external influence.  The internal stimulus would be its core DNA or something else contained within its nucleus.  External stimulus, on the other hand, would be some kind of catalyst acting upon the cell’s existing biologic or genetic code, perhaps something in its membrane.  In other words, another compound that causes a reaction.”

“So then there’s something in the cells?”

“That’s my guess.  Perhaps something they have absorbed.”

Alison almost jumped out of her seat.  “I knew it!”

Even as tired as she was, Neely laughed.  It was exactly the reaction she was expecting.  “Now, the big question is,” she said, “what is that compound?”

“And why is it in their blubber?”

“I have a theory on that, actually.  Both blubber and human fat share two very similar functions.  Storage and absorption.”

“Absorption!”  Alison’s eyes shot open.  “That’s it!  They absorbed it!  They absorbed whatever is in that water near Trinidad!”

This time Neely looked surprised.  “That fits, Alison.”

Alison gasped.  “Oh my God!”

“What?”

Alison stared at her in silence with a look of shock.  “Oh my God,” she whispered.  “It was right in front of me the whole time.  All these years, and I had no idea.”

“What are you talking about?”

She leaned forward with her hands outstretched.  “It’s the blubber, Neely.  The blubber!”  Excitedly, Alison jumped out of her chair.  “Listen, a few years ago, a researcher at Georgetown University submitted a paper on some studies he’d done on dolphin blubber.  His name was Mike Zasloff.  I exchanged emails with him afterward.  In his paper he showed there was something unique in the healing properties of dolphin blubber, allowing them to recover from injury much faster than other mammals.  At the time, he didn’t know why.  The last time I talked to him, he was searching for unseen compounds in the blubber.  But what if he’d already discovered the same thing we just did, without realizing it?”

“It could explain a great deal.”

“Think about it, Neely.  What if the dolphins are absorbing whatever it is in the water, and the plants are actually incorporating it?”

“It’s entirely possible.  The plants wouldn’t just absorb it; their roots would take it in where the compound becomes part of the organism.”

“Wow!”  Alison covered her mouth.  She was thunderstruck as a major piece of the puzzle connected itself.  It wasn’t the plants underwater.  They were just the byproduct.  She had seen it before, at the top of the Acarai Mountains.  That’s the origin of the plants that Neely had been studying.  But if the plants on the bottom of the ocean near Trinidad were the same, how in the world did they get that far?  How did they show up beneath the surface in an entirely different environment?  And how did the plants get moved so far, without impacting anything else along the way?

What it was…was even simpler, and it hit Alison like a ton of bricks.  There was no migration of the plants.  In fact, just as with the mountain, it wasn’t the plants at all.  It was the same compound they found up there, also in the water.  The plants didn’t migrate, the compound did.

Across from her, Neely’s expression grew curious as she witnessed a strange look in Alison’s eyes.

What Neely couldn’t tell was that even in Alison’s stunned state, she was already processing this new realization.  Trying to connect the two locations, but failing.  There was still something missing.  How did the compound get there?

She turned absently to one of the tall windows and peered outside past the hospital’s large round entrance.  The excitement was nearly overwhelming, and there was one person with whom she desperately wanted to share this discovery.

One person who might be smart enough to figure out the last missing piece: John Clay.

29

At that moment, John Clay was 25,000 feet over the Balintang Channel and less than one hour from Taiwan.  Staring into the blackness beyond his small window, he tried to focus despite the early stages of exhaustion which were setting in.  He still couldn’t turn his mind off and it was beginning to take its toll.

He had an uneasy feeling of what lay ahead in China.  Neither he nor Borger had a firm grasp yet on exactly where he was headed, other than a target of roughly a thousand square miles.  The more they learned, the more they became convinced that General Wei hid the case that he received from Guyana.  And not just from them, but from everyone.  But why?

Clay shook his head and leaned back onto the headrest.  He tried again to clear his mind, coming back to an image that always relaxed him: Alison.

He’d managed to talk to her briefly after his plane left the west coast, but now he was too far.  Any outside communications were a liability this close to China.  And if their own NSA spying program had learned anything, it was how any conversation could eventually be recorded, especially those via commercial cell towers.

Given his location and the implications of what he was after, only Clay’s Navy Inmarsat satellite phone with the strongest possible encryption could be trusted.

That same satellite phone rang ninety-three minutes later just moments after Clay had exited customs in Hong Kong International Airport.

Reaching the expansive concourse of Terminal One, Clay searched for a quiet corner among hundreds of other travelers.  He ducked in next to one of the terminal’s giant support pillars and unfolded the phone’s external antennae.

“Hey, Will.”

“Hi, Clay.  How you holding up?”

“Just got through customs.  So far so good.”

Borger grinned knowingly on the other end.  “I know.  Listen, I have more on General Wei.”

Clay rolled his eyes at Borger’s modesty.  “Go.”

“Remember that Wei had a wife and a daughter?  The wife was a pediatrician and died a few years ago from cancer.  His daughter appears to have died last year due to a degenerative heart disease.”

“I remember.  It doesn’t seem to leave him a whole lot of motive, does it?”

“Not really.  But I’ve been doing some digging.  His wife’s funeral was pretty big.  I can find a ton of news articles on it.  A lot of dignitaries and military personnel.  Pretty much what we would expect from the position he was in.”

“Right.”

“But here’s the thing, I can’t find hardly anything on his daughter’s funeral.  A few mentions in local newspapers but nothing on the scale of his wife.  Not even close.”

“Hmm.  That matches the CIA’s write up on Wei.  A lot of information on his wife but not much on his daughter.  Maybe an oversight?”

“Dunno.  I was even able to briefly break into the MIIT, their ministry of information, but it doesn’t have a whole lot on her either.  They have pages and pages of background for Wei and his wife when she died, but very little on the daughter’s death.”

“Maybe it’s deliberate.”

“How do you mean?”

“A double loss like that — a wife followed by his only child — would be devastating.  He probably didn’t want any more publicity.  If anyone could keep people away, I’m sure Wei could.”

“Well, I think you’re right about that.  But there’s something else.  His daughter was seventeen, and a nice-looking young lady.  Don’t you think she would have had some friends?”

Clay frowned.  “One would think.”

“Right.  Well, I can’t find a single mention of her funeral, even on China’s social media sites.  And it gets stranger.  I also managed to get a copy of the register from Beijing Friendship Hospital where Li Na Wei reportedly died.  And there are no visitors over the previous four weeks, except her father.”

“And she died of degenerative heart failure,” Clay added.  “Which doesn’t happen overnight.”

“No.  It doesn’t.”

“Are there any pictures from Li Na Wei’s funeral?”

“Not that I can find.”

Clay stared absently at the constant stream of passengers beneath the new six-million-square-foot airline terminal.

“Is it just me,” Borger asked.  “Or is all that just a little too private?”

Clay wasn’t an expert on the Chinese, but he did know there was something far more important to most men than emotional privacy.  It was family honor.  Was there something about his daughter that shamed Wei into a secret funeral?  It was possible, but so far everything Clay knew about Wei seemed to indicate that, if anything, he was a man of ethics.  So why the subversion?

“You still there, Clay?”

“I’m here.”

“I don’t know about you, but this isn’t making a whole lot of sense to me.”

“I agree.”  Clay took a deep breath and looked at his watch.  “Stay on it, and I’ll check back with you in a few hours.”

“Roger.  You know where to find me.”

Clay ended the call and turned his gaze out through the giant window, thinking.  Through the window, another TransAsia Airways jet was being brought to a nearby gate.

Borger was right.  General Wei’s actions weren’t making a lot of sense.  Something Clay was chalking up to two possibilities: either they had some seriously bad intelligence or Wei was more clever than anyone knew.

Clay was pretty certain it was the latter.

30

Jin Tang was ordinary by almost any physical standard.   At five foot four, with straight dark hair and an inexpressive face, he was virtually invisible among the horde of people flowing in and out of Hong Kong’s International Airport, the gateway to Mainland China.

He watched carefully as hundreds exited the terminal doors, towing luggage and attempting to wave down one of a dozen red-painted taxis streaming past.

Tang was waiting patiently in a small Toyota hatchback well away from the first exit door.  His left hand rested on the steering wheel of the still-running car while his right was snaked casually under his heavy jacket, lightly groping a 9mm pistol tucked inside his belt.  His dark eyes remained unblinking, fixed on the double doors, until his target emerged in a large black and yellow Brisbane Broncos rugby shirt beneath a wide-brimmed Akubra hat.

Tang and his car were immediately moving, rolling forward smoothly until he was close enough for a positive identification.

With a squeak of his brakes, he eased to a stop in front of the door and rolled down the passenger window.

“Let’s go Broncos!” he shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

The man sporting the shirt and hat peered at him with a grin.  “Ah, you watch our Broncos, yeah?  Great year so far.”   The tall man stepped forward with a smile and bent down, resting his hand on the open windowsill of the passenger door.  With a subtle glance to either side, he nodded his head.  “Don’t mind if I do.”

He promptly stuffed his bag through the back window and pulled the front door open.

As soon as the man was inside, Tang darted out into traffic.  His hand moved away from the gun and instead pulled out a photograph to double-check.  It was him.

In perfect English, Tang replied and steered toward the center lane.  “No offense, but your accent is terrible.”

In the passenger seat, John Clay pulled the belt across his chest.  “What can I say, I’ve only been to Australia once.  And it wasn’t for leisure.”

Tang slowed into a sea of brake lights and watched several people move between the cars.  He smiled and extended a hand toward Clay, who shook it.  “Jin Tang.”

“John Clay.  Thanks for the lift.”

“Where we headed?”

“Beijing is as close as we have so far.”

Tang glanced at Clay’s large frame in the small seat.  “Get as comfortable as you can.  We have a long drive.”

“Feels like my seat on the plane.”

“We’ll gear up outside of Wuhan.  You need anything bigger than an AK?”

“I don’t think so.  I’m hoping not to be here very long.”

Tang grinned.  “That’s what I said six years ago.”

“Well, I don’t think I could pull off your job.”

Tang’s official job was a security guard for a large company contracted with the Chinese government.  He was currently, and quite strategically, assigned to the Ministry of Foreign Relations of the People’s Republic of China.  Specifically the Department of European and Central Asian Affairs in Guangzhou.  However, Tang’s true job was to glean information regarding Russia’s political and economic liaisons with China after the two had recently become increasingly, and surprisingly, close.

Tang’s “ordinary” appearance was intentional as required by the United States’ Central Intelligence Agency.  His title of “operative” within the agency was also generic.  More simply put, Tang was a U.S. spy.

And even though the security agency he’d been infiltrated into as a cover was far from efficient, they did have some semblance of protocol.  He had a maximum of three days before his absence would raise attention.

“I sure hope you have something better than just Beijing soon.”

Clay nodded.  “So do I.”

31

In Beijing, Li Qin remained standing in the middle of General Wei’s former dwelling.  The apartment was located in the district of Dongcheng, the same district home to The Forbidden City, the Temple of Confucius, and the infamous Tian’anman Square where in 1989 Chinese soldiers opened fire on hundreds of pro-democracy demonstrators.  It was the movement that was heard around the world.

Today, Dongcheng was the largest upper-class area of Beijing, housing some of Hebei Province’s wealthiest aristocracy.

Yet as Qin stood in the main living room of the spacious apartment, he was struck by how simply Wei had lived.  The light walls, floor to ceiling bookcases, and checkered carpeting were nice and appropriately decorative but of a somewhat simpler taste.  Of all the people Qin had investigated from within the Ministry of State Security, Wei was without a doubt the least extravagant.

Xinzhen, the most senior of the Politburo’s Standing Committee, had tasked him with uncovering and understanding Wei’s final actions which led to a surprise revolt against the most powerful men in all of China.  At least that was how Xinzhen had described it to Qin, which meant it was most certainly not accurate.

Xinzhen’s reluctance to reveal too much was itself a clue.  Never before had Qin been asked to work within such a vacuum of information.  He was told to find information that no one had, and to do it with virtually no information to begin with.  The great Xinzhen was holding back.  And judging from past experience, the more a person held back information, the deeper the scandal went.

Qin moved to the windows of the apartment, where he pulled out his cell phone and calmly dialed.

On the second ring, the call was answered by a young man barely into his twenties with jet-black hair and eyes to match.  One of the best computer hackers in all of Eastern China.

Known only as “M0ngol,” his gaunt pale face remained illuminated in the bright and eerie glow of his computer monitor.

China had grown at an astonishing pace for over four centuries, in what many would term “reckless abandon.”  And the young man on the other end of Qin’s call was the very personification of that recklessness, now in a new and frightening digital world.

M0ngol was one of the hundreds of sophisticated hackers employed by China’s infamous intelligence ministry, hired in response to the devastating level of spying initiated by the United States’ National Security Agency.

Countries all over the world were first stunned to learn of the NSA’s actions when finally exposed, then immediately driven to thwart what they deemed an invasion of national sovereignty.  Both friends and foes rushed to establish their own counter-agencies, and not surprisingly, the one country with the resources needed to go head to head with the United States…was China.

The most populous country in the world had a plethora of exceptionally gifted computer hackers at their disposal, already motivated by curiosity and greed.  The only motivator that China’s Ministry of State Security needed to add…was anger.

The world of espionage had changed.  Wars were now increasingly being fought on a digital battlefield of electrons.  Individual hacking of emails and bank accounts were considered quaint next to nationally funded attacks on other countries.  Attacks that were barely imaginable just a few years ago with capabilities that too few were even able to grasp.

War had been reborn, and with it, a new modern soldier.  One that did not require physical training or battlefield fortitude.  The new soldiers were young men and women, barely out of their teens, having lived and breathed computers almost since birth.  Instead of rifles, they used keyboards.

M0ngol was one of China’s new soldiers.  One of the best, and just like the NSA, China’s spying took place both internationally and domestically.

“What do you see?” Qin asked.

His dark eyes flickered back and forth between two of the screens before him.  The algorithms used by China’s banking systems were still too crude to notice the patterns that M0ngol now saw.  “It’s been going on for a long time.  Withdrawals and transfers over the last year.  Different amounts and different times to appear random.  All withdrawn into cash.”

“No deposits?”

“Nothing outside of his salary.”

Qin crossed the carpet and approached the apartment’s kitchen.  It was well-kept with nothing left out on the counters.  He continued to the bedroom where things were just as neat.

M0ngol switched his focus to a different screen where one of his programs was plotting locations against Wei’s banking activities.  Those dots suggested yet another pattern.

“Credit usage shows much heavier activity accompanying southern destinations, toward Baoding and Shijiazhuang.  Several repeated trips.”

Qin nodded on the other end and sat down on the edge of the large bed, scanning the room.  “What kind of purchases?”

“Flights, hotels, and meals.  Little else.  A mistress?”

“Perhaps.”  It was possible, Qin thought.  Most men that age had mistresses.  But Wei was different.  He was not a man of excess, and his career history showed a genuine distaste for politics and extravagance.  Quite rare for a man of his rank.

Qin glanced at two large pictures positioned atop the dark sandalwood dresser.  One of Wei’s wife and the other of his daughter.

“There’s something else,” M0ngol said.  “There was a maintenance service on his car a few months ago.  The miles for this vehicle number significantly increased over the last year.”  He paused and checked another screen.  “But his phone records show something entirely different.”

“Explain.”

“They show his phone was offline repeatedly, frequently on a weekend.  But never during his trips to Baoding and Shijiazhuang.”

“A problem with his phone?”

There was a long pause while more data was checked.  “I don’t think so.  The pattern is too predictable.”

Predictable, Qin thought to himself, staring at the two pictures.  Predictable wasn’t the word he had in mind.  Everything about Wei’s last months were beginning to feel like something else.  His records, his communications, and now his apartment…and the two distinct photos on a dresser.  No, the word that kept coming to Qin’s mind was intentional.

He knew that Xinzhen and the rest of the Politburo had tasked Wei with a secret mission.  Something highly classified and outside of official communication channels.  It was also clear that it had gone very wrong.

32

The lonely, well-maintained road between Ji’an and Wuhan, China, was surrounded by sprawling farmland in every direction.  Dotted by thousands of clusters of dark green metasequoia trees, the landscape passed by silently, silhouetted in a thick gray haze beneath a bright full moon.

Traffic was sporadic at best, which caused Jin Tang to nearly veer off the road when John Clay suddenly burst upright in the passenger seat next to him.

Clay looked through the front window before searching the interior of the car.

“Jesus!” Tang said.  “That must have been one horrible dream.”

Clay ignored the remark and finally found his satellite phone still in his left pocket.  He pulled it out and quickly turned it on.

He hadn’t been sleeping.

***

Several minutes later and seven thousand miles away, Will Borger stopped on the white granite steps of a wide stairway and pulled out his ringing phone.  His chest heaving, he answered it, grateful for the interruption.

“Clay?”

“Will, where are you?”

“In a stairwell.  On my way to Langford’s office.”

Clay raised a curious eyebrow.  “You’re taking the stairs?”

“I think Caesare’s been feeding me subliminal messages about my lack of exercise.”

“I believe it,” Clay joked. His expression quickly became serious again.  “Will, I need you to listen very carefully.”

***

“Clay?” Barked Langford.

“I’m here, Admiral.”

“Good.  I’ve got a very excited and nearly hyperventilating Will Borger in front of me, insisting I get you on the phone.  What’s up?”

“It’s about General Wei, sir.  I think I know what’s he’s done with the case.”

Langford pointed Borger to a chair on the other side of his desk and placed the call on speakerphone.  “Go ahead.”

“Will and I have been trying to put the pieces together since I left.  But things weren’t fitting.  Wei’s actions before his suicide, the deaths of his wife and daughter, even his cell records were all pointing to something we kept missing.  Something big.”

“So what is it?”

Clay took a deep breath and glanced back over his shoulder at Tang, who was waiting by the road in the dark, next to the car.  “Admiral, the only way I can get things to make sense is if we change one of the variables.  Something we’re assuming is true but may not be.”

“Spit it out, Clay.”

“Sir,” Clay said.  “I don’t think General Wei’s daughter is dead.”

Langford looked at the phone on his desk with surprise.  “What?”

“I don’t think she’s dead.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Langford peered thoughtfully at Borger.

“There is very little on his daughter’s death,” Clay continued.  “Too little.  I think he orchestrated it and had the records scrubbed.”

“But if his daughter is still alive, then why kill himself?” Borger asked.

“To protect her.  If she were suffering from a heart disease, which I do believe she was, he would have had to fake her death to keep people from making a connection after he was gone.  If his whole family was believed to be dead, then the investigation stops.”

Langford frowned, thinking.  “So, what about the case?”

“I’m betting only a few people knew about it.  And that he moved his daughter to someplace safe, then carefully left a trail of clues that led away from her.  The one thing he couldn’t easily control was the cellular towers tracking his location.  So he turned off his phone when he traveled to see her.”

“So he hid the case with her?”

“He may have done more than that,” Clay replied over the speaker.  “If his daughter was dying, Wei may very well have been holding the one thing that could help her.  The DNA from the plants in Guyana.  And if they did find a way to transfer it to humans, he may have used the last of it on her.  If he did, killing himself was the only way to prevent an investigation from finding her.  A last and seemingly delusional act by the grief-stricken husband and father.  But I don’t think he was delusional at all.”

“So he let everyone assume he was crazy and smear his name.”

“Exactly.”  Clay switched the phone to his other ear.  “Purposefully destroy his family honor to save the only family he had left.”

Borger nodded.  “It makes sense, except that family honor is more important to the Chinese than anything.  Could he sacrifice his family’s entire name for his daughter?”

The room fell silent when Clay didn’t answer.  He didn’t need to.  Whether Borger knew it or not, it wasn’t a question for Clay…it was a question for Langford.  Clay was one of the few people who knew what Langford had gone through with his own daughter.

Admiral Langford had grown quiet but finally nodded.  “Yes, he could.”  With a grave face, he turned and looked out the window.  “I would have.”

Silence returned to the call.  Clay waited almost a full minute before speaking again.  “Will, we need to find where Wei hid his daughter.”

“Right.”

“Probably someplace remote, but still with enough medical equipment to treat her.”

33

Seventeen-year-old Li Na Wei’s eyelids fluttered open weakly.  The darkened room around her was blurry with just a few streams of light edging in from a nearby window.  The old and tattered shade gradually came into focus along with the peeled paint around the wooden window sill.

She rolled her head more to the left and traced the wall back to a small shelf with dead flowers and a few other items she didn’t recognize.

From the top of her left hand, a clear IV tube ran up and over her pale arm to an old-looking machine.  She looked at her hand and then raised it, gingerly wriggling her fingers.

On the other side, past her right hand, she spotted the faded chair and smiled, images of her father sitting next to her coming to mind.  She often felt the warmth of his hand in hers even before waking up.  But not today.  He was probably back in Beijing.

Li Na took a breath and looked curiously down at the blanket on top of her.  Her curiosity grew with her second breath and she took a third one, deeper this time.  Something was different –– she could breathe again.  Still with some difficulty but better than before.  And less pain.

She didn’t recognize the room.  How long had she been asleep?  Days?  Weeks?  It felt like a long time.

It couldn’t have been that long, she decided.  Her muscles would have been even weaker.

She reached up with her right hand and tapped a small silver bell with her fingertip.  A low “ding” sounded.

A minute later, a doctor leaned in.   Upon seeing his patient awake, he smiled and entered.

“Hello, Li Na.  How do you feel?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Dr. Lee.”

She blinked, then remembered his question.  “I feel better.”

“Good.”  He stood at the foot of her bed, touching her toes through the blanket.  “Can you feel that?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and removed his hands.  “Can you move your toes?”

She complied.  Satisfied, Lee moved to her right side and inserted the tips of his stethoscope into his ears.  “Can I listen to your heart for a moment?”

“Okay.”

He placed the round diaphragm lightly against her chest and listened.  The beats were stronger and more regular.

“Squeeze for me,” he said, placing his right hand in hers.

She squeezed.

“Excellent.  Are you in any pain, Li Na?”

“A little.  Not much.”

“Good.”

The doctor gently raised her arm and slipped it through a blood pressure cuff.  He then held the diaphragm of the stethoscope against her vein and pumped several times, staring at his wristwatch.

He was stunned.  A few weeks ago she’d been days away from death.  Then her condition began to improve.  Her body seemed to be strengthening.  And now, she was awake.

He’d seen miracles before, but not like this.  Li Na’s heart was beating twice as strong as it was before, and faster.  Her temperature was back under thirty-seven degrees Celsius, bringing a huge sigh of relief from Lee and his nurse.  And it all happened after her father’s final visit.

Barring a relapse, Lee was growing increasingly confident the young girl would survive.  Which meant fulfilling the promise he made to her father.  And soon.  Because the one thing General Wei had repeatedly pressed was that if his daughter did survive, there would soon be people searching for her.

34

M0ngol’s dark eyes sifted methodically through the computer logs of one of China Mobile’s system servers.  The giant file was one of several that contained the company’s geolocation metadata for most of its customers in the greater Beijing area.

However, what M0ngol was searching for was not Wei’s phone number.  He already had that.  The geo data tracked signals from the SIM cards of each cell phone and more importantly logged the signal strength of each signal as it was polled.  Comparing the strength against multiple towers allowed him to discern in which direction a unit was moving, such as General Wei’s just before it had been turned off.

What he’d found in the older logs showed him more of the same: a northbound direction prior to the tower losing the signal, then reestablishment of that signal days later, traveling south.

M0ngol’s thin lip curled as he copied the last piece of data.  He started to close the window on the server and reached for his phone but abruptly stopped, his hand frozen on the mouse.  Something had caught his eye as he was looking away, and he stared back at the screen carefully.  The directory of computer files was sorted by date and time, along with several other columns of information.

What M0ngol noticed was that some of the log files had a slightly different time stamp than the rest.  It was a very subtle difference few would have noticed.

After studying the screen, he opened a new window and brought up the server’s audit logs.  He manually scrolled through the giant list.  What he was searching for wasn’t there.  All other audit activity was listed, except for the six time-stamped files he was looking for.

M0ngol slowly leaned back in his chair without taking his eyes off the screen.  He knew exactly what he was looking at.

Deleting audit logs was easy.  Much easier than trying to change a file’s time stamp.  Doing that would require temporarily changing the server’s clock, which would create a huge ripple effect that could take hours to fix.  Instead, the files were opened and closed at almost precisely the same time but twenty-four hours later.  And it was done to make the time stamp difference as subtle as possible.

Someone else had been looking through the cell tower files.

***

Will Borger was now typing feverishly on his keyboard.  Manually finding a small medical building within a thousand-mile radius would take forever.  He needed a faster way.

The new ARGUS satellite didn’t have the right path to give him an aerial view of Beijing.  But there were two other satellites that did.  He didn’t need a live feed like he could get from the ARGUS either.  He just needed one with a good enough resolution, and both of these older birds could still read a T-shirt from space.  More than strong enough to spot a car.

Of course, it was not as easy as it sounded.  Even for Borger.  He had to use a program like he did for the Forel that searched pixel by pixel.  But this time, he had to tell it what it was looking for.  More importantly, he needed it to look for the same pixel signature traveling the same direction and time for each of the days when Wei turned his phone off.

And now that Borger had the make and model of Wei’s car, finding it was at least theoretically possible.  The question was how smart could he make his program and whether it would work in time.  For this, he would have to commandeer more servers.

Hours later, after testing and launching his modified program, Borger looked at his watch and opened another can of Jolt.  Clay had a while before he would even be close, which Borger hoped would give him enough time.

Until then, he needed to check up on his Brazilian friends and get Caesare some more intel.

He popped open the top of the can, and from the third monitor on his desk, watched the overhead flight path of the team’s C-12 Huron.

35

Steve Caesare had a serious problem.  He moved forward to speak quietly to the pilots as he peered out through the cockpit’s front windshield.  Even from fifty miles out, it was clearly visible.  A fast moving thunderstorm headed northeast, over the western half of Colombia.

Unlike other weather patterns, thunderstorms were not something to be flown through.  The combination of rising warm air and sinking cold created dangerous surprises, including air pockets that could drop an aircraft’s altitude by thousands of feet in just seconds.  Flying around them was the only safe option.

Their problem was they didn’t have enough fuel for a significant deviation.  After being denied to land and refuel in both Venezuela and Colombia, their situation was quickly growing into a serious problem.

If they did fly around it, the extra distance would use up far too much of the precious fuel they had left.  And trying to fly through the storm would present a headwind and consumption drain almost as bad as going around it.

Caesare watched the copilot finish plotting the change before turning to look at him over his shoulder.  It was too far.  An outside route was out of the question unless they all wanted to be buried in Colombia.

Their only remaining option was a risky one –– to cut inside and hope the storm’s trajectory didn’t change.  In other words, to pray it continued moving along its current path.  Because if it changed on them, all bets were off.

Caesare nodded and turned around, moving back down the narrow aisle to his seat.

DeeAnn sat across from him in a rear-facing seat with Dulce nestled against her chest.  “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” Caesare said, smiling and winking at her.  “I was just checking to see when the movie starts.”  Worrying them at this point would serve no purpose.

DeeAnn frowned.  The problem with Steve’s sense of humor was she couldn’t tell what was a joke and what was a diversion.  She studied him as he sat back down, but his face gave nothing away.

On her lap, Dulce was watching Corso –– his huge frame sitting diagonally across from them.  When he turned away from the window, their eyes met and Dulce smiled widely, exposing nearly all of her teeth.

Corso seemed less than amused.

The small plane dropped suddenly, surprising everyone but Caesare, who glanced at DeeAnn.  “You’re going to want to put your seatbelts on.”

She nodded and stood up, still holding Dulce.  DeeAnn turned and placed the gorilla back into the seat. She then fastened the belt around Dulce’s small stomach and moved across the aisle to sit in the seat facing Corso.  She fastened her own belt and looked back across the aisle where Dulce was now grinning at Caesare.  Unlike Corso, Caesare was grinning back.

She watched them for a moment before glancing at Corso’s long face.  “You don’t seem to like her very much.”

Corso turned his heavy gaze to her.  “I didn’t join the Navy to babysit monkeys.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“True.  We’re bringing a monkey to find another monkey,” he replied sarcastically.

“Gorilla.”

Corso stared at her with a look of indifference.

“Don’t worry about him,” Anderson grinned from two seats back.  “He’s always in a bad mood.  Even when he sleeps.”

“And he’s still a kid,” Corso retorted, looking back out his window.

“Not according to the government.”  Anderson was still grinning.  “I’m old enough to kill the enemy but not old enough to drink.  Makes perfect sense, right?”

DeeAnn smirked.  She was beginning to understand how Alison had become so disillusioned with the government.  She then heard the “click” of Juan’s seatbelt behind her.

So far, the flight had gone smoothly and what little turbulence they had experienced was mild.   The bumps didn’t seem to bother Dulce much.  They didn’t seem to be any bother at all to Tiewater, who could still be heard snoring from the rear of the plane.

She let herself relax, in spite of Corso.  They would be on the ground in a couple hours.  Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be as bad as she or Juan feared.  It was unfortunate they had to take a longer route, but after Caesare had explained the political problems involved, it made sense.

Her only major concern now was how easy it would be to find Dexter after they reached the mountain.  Lee and Juan had captured Dexter’s exact pitch from the data in her previous vest and were confident that, once close enough, they could identify him again.  The question was how close did they need to get?  The vest’s microphone was sensitive, but the sheer amount of noise the vest had to sift through for normal communication left her wondering how effective it was going to be.  And they still had to get within range for which they were relying completely on Dulce’s instincts.

The small gorilla was still insisting she could find Dexter, but DeeAnn wasn’t sure what that actually meant.

DeeAnn sat quietly, contemplating, while Caesare remained just as quiet next to her.  This storm was another problem he didn’t need.  Flying through a thunderstorm was damn dangerous.

It took less than thirty minutes to get the bad news.  The storm had indeed turned east, and straight into their path.  The two pilots seated in front of Caesare stared through the windshield with a look of dread.

Avoiding most of the storm, they would have made it with at least some fuel left.  But now…their odds were fifty-fifty at best.  It was growing in size and both pilots knew that no one would fly through what was ahead of them unless they had absolutely no choice.  Which they now didn’t.

Colombia’s Medellin and Bogota airports had followed Venezuela’s lead and denied them permission to land, which left Iquitos, Peru, as the only runway now long enough to accept them.  They could, of course, try to force their way down using the international distress frequency –– but once on the ground, Colombia would know who they were and where they were likely headed.

Now at less than ninety minutes from Iquitos and a top speed of 320 miles per hour, the C-12 Huron was four hundred and fifty miles away and burning fuel at an alarming rate.

Another sudden gust shoved the plane sideways in the air, causing everyone in the cabin to grasp something to avoid being thrown.  Outside, the sky had darkened into an ominous gray as the giant storm began to envelop them.

Caesare moved back down the narrow aisle to Juan and DeeAnn, the latter having stolen his seat across from Dulce.  After activating the vest, she was talking to Dulce to keep her calm.  Following another severe bounce, the young gorilla wrinkled her nose with concern.

No fly like bird.

DeeAnn shook her head in agreement.  “No, this is not like a bird.  But don’t be afraid.”

She and Juan looked up when Caesare motioned her to mute the vest.

“This storm isn’t going our way,” he said.  “An emergency landing in Colombia would out us and there’s a good chance they wouldn’t let us leave.  Which means our only option is to fight through this and get to Iquitos as fast as we can.”  They all grabbed hold as the aircraft plunged again by several feet.  “The good news is that this is a hell of a plane and Iquitos is going to be ready for us.  The bad news is that conditions are going to get worse.”  He looked to DeeAnn.  “How are you guys holding up?”

“Not great.”  DeeAnn looked to Dulce, who had her two long arms wrapped firmly around the metal armrests.  She was talking less and less and DeeAnn could see increasing signs of anxiety.

“Juan?”

“I’m okay for the moment.  But I may need a bag.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” he said, patting the top of Juan’s seat.  “We’re gonna make it.  Just hang in there.”

It was the best thing he could think to say.  And it was true what he said about the durability of the plane.  Even the storm’s powerful winds couldn’t flip it, but running out of fuel was a different matter.  If they could make it to the airport, there would be only one danger remaining: landing.  Because as bad the wind sheers were at altitude, they were far worse at ground level.

As Caesare turned to leave, the small satellite phone in his pocket rang.  He braced himself against the low ceiling with one hand and pulled the phone out with the other.

“That you, Will?”

“It is,” Borger answered.  “How you guys doing?”

“Getting pretty bouncy, but we’ll make it.”  Hopefully, Caesare thought.

“You’ve got a big storm headed right at you.”

“That’s very helpful, Will.  Any other good news?”

“Yes.  Otero and his army are about a third the way up the mountain.  They’ve stopped for the moment, but they’re moving faster than we thought.  What’s your ETA?”

Caesare rolled his eyes.  ETA?  Chances of survival might be a better question.  He raised his voice over a sudden wave of thunder.  “Soon.”

“How soon?”

“VERY soon!  I’ll call you back when we’re on the ground.”

“Okay.  Be safe.”

Caesare ended the call and shook his head.  His estimated time of arrival on the mountain was complicated.  Their situation had gotten considerably more difficult…and he still hadn’t told DeeAnn the worst part.

36

The Brazilian’s stop on the way up the mountain was more than momentary.  Otero stood in the shade of a small rubber tree, watching the long line of Salazar’s men digging along a deteriorated section of road, trying to repair it enough for their trucks to pass.

Otero lazily slapped a hand against his neck at another insect.  The treelined canopy above them was not enough to block the glaring sun, which had turned their stretch of the forest into a sweltering sauna.

After being outside for even a short time, it was enough to drive Otero back to the air conditioning of his Land Rover.    Russo faithfully followed and climbed in on the opposite side.

The road reconstruction was being directed by Salazar’s second lieutenant.  A man in his early thirties, standing out in the heat with his men while Salazar also remained inside his lead vehicle.

Sitting silently behind Salazar was a female with short dirty-blonde hair, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt.  Being a civilian zoologist assigned to the mission by a much higher-ranking officer did not prevent Salazar from pushing his authority onto her.  Authority she had thus far largely ignored.

Dr. Becca, as she was known, kept her head down inside the cab, reading more on the work the deceased Mr. Alves had been conducting at his so-called “preserve.”  A place which apparently had a number of dark secrets.

She’d read the information on the capuchin monkey several times, looking for any details or facts she may have missed.  It was crucial she knew everything she could.  One of the images gleaned from a security camera gave a better than average picture of the monkey –– all solid gray fur, as opposed to the more common speckled colors, which meant at least some hope of ever finding the animal.  But all in all, Becca was highly skeptical.

From her perspective, she had been pulled from her existing job at a prominent research center in Salvador to assist an army group of Neanderthals into the jungle in search of a mystical primate, supposedly carrying the secret of immortality.  And not just human immortality but apparently all cellular life on the planet.  It sounded ridiculous.

Becca had enough biology experience to know that immortality was a farce.  A dream envisioned by people who never made very good use of the time they had until it was nearly up.  Nothing in the biological kingdom had thus far escaped the tendrils of death, and she was sure that neither she nor any of the grunts outside were going to be the first.

Her goal was simply to find whatever they were looking for so she could return to her work in Salvador. However, she did have to admit that, while she found the immortality story absurd, she was somewhat fascinated by the more credible possibility of a capuchin having a higher level of intelligence than normal.  That was how nature worked.  Advances in small steps over long periods of time, not some magical leap.  And given that capuchins were already rather intelligent, finding an outlier was far more believable…and interesting.

Becca continued reading through her thick folder, unaware that Salazar had opened his own door and climbed out until she felt the wave of heat rush past her.

Outside, he approached his lieutenant and waited for an update, even though there was little to offer.  Anyone could observe the men still toiling away in sweat-soaked shirts.

“How much longer?”

His lieutenant turned away from one of the other soldiers.  “At least an hour, maybe two.”

Salazar pursed his lips with agitation.  With hands on his hips, he spun around and looked back downhill the way they came.  He spotted the Land Rover with Otero and Russo speaking inside and smirked.  He wondered just how the two thought they would possibly retain control of anything they found when surrounded and outgunned by Salazar’s men.

Fools.

Inside, Otero was looking forward to the look on Salazar’s face when he found out who was really in charge.   And where the loyalty of his men truly stood.

“The idiot still has no idea.”

When there was no answer, Otero turned to find Russo gazing out at the forest.

“Christ, this isn’t about your ghost again.  I already told you it’s not related.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t pay you to be paranoid.”

Russo grinned and turned back to him momentarily.  “Yes, you do.”

The older man conceded.  “We can’t accomplish anything from up here.”

“I’ll still feel better when we know who it is.”

“It’s coincidence.  When we return, we will deal with them…and their family.”

Unless it really is the U.S.  But why would they want retribution for Blanco?  Russo shook his head.  “Something doesn’t feel right.  The timing of it all.”  He turned back to Otero.  “What if Blanco talked to the U.S. about the monkey?”

“Why would he do that?”

Russo thought about it.  “He wouldn’t.”

“Exactly.  I tell you, it’s something else.  We’ll find out who and why.  Then we will deal with them.”  Otero motioned outside.  “But this comes first.”

Russo nodded silently.  It wasn’t the right time or place.  He simply needed more information.  He was sure there was a connection between the attack on his men and the U.S. but he couldn’t seem to find it.

What Russo didn’t know was that soon he would be far closer to his ghost than he ever imagined.

37

In Beijing, Qin stood examining items in General Wei’s old office when his phone rang again.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I have information you’re going to want to hear,” M0ngol said.

Qin slid a book back into the huge bookshelf.  “Go ahead.”

“You wanted to know what our General Wei was involved in before his death.  The answer is something very secret and very big.  So big that he was reporting directly to the Politburo Standing Committee.  I recovered some deleted emails that refer to a project in South America.  A project they were all very careful not to mention.  Instead, they referred to it as Element.”

“Element?”

“Yes.  Most of the communication appears to have been verbal, but there were some written exchanges required, particularly around authorization of resources.”

“What kind of resources?”

“Men.  And ships.  From what I’ve pieced together, it looks like the project was some kind of excavation.  Something they insisted that no one else know about.”

Qin stared thoughtfully through the darkness of the room.  “It appears they succeeded.”

“Yes, it does.  I can find more, but it will take time.”

“If Wei was keeping their secret, why destroy him and his reputation?”

“Maybe he didn’t keep it well enough.”

It was possible.  However, thus far every indication suggested Wei’s death was indeed a suicide.  It was far more likely that Wei had not compromised their secret at all but, instead, may have kept it too well.  But why?

“If there was a split in the Politburo,” Qin said, “then we should be looking for something after his last visit.  Something unusual.”

M0ngol smiled in the glow of his monitor.  “You mean like a secret flight of a new prototype jet to South America and back?”

“What?”

“That’s right.  A day before Wei disappeared.”

“Where?”

“It landed here in Beijing.”

“What was on it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Qin stood frozen, thinking.  This was why Xinzhen hadn’t told him everything about General Wei.  There were some things Xinzhen didn’t want him to uncover.  “So we have an excavation in South America, and a secret flight back just before he disappears.  Then he reappears to kill himself.”

“Sounds strange.”

“No.”  Qin silently crossed the room and looked out over the glowing lights of Beijing.  “It sounds like a man trying to hide something.  Do we know where he went yet?”

“We’re still working on that.  And there’s something else you will want to know.”

“What?”

“Someone else is trying to find out where he disappeared to.  They’ve been accessing the same servers and records, even before we did.”

Qin’s eyes blazed.  “Who?”

“We don’t have an ID yet.  We are tracing backward, one server at a time.  Whoever it was is very clever.  We think it came from Washington, D.C.”

Finally, Qin showed genuine surprise.  “Washington,” he whispered.  That was it.  The piece explaining China’s altercation with the Americans in the Caribbean Sea.  Of course, to the Americans it was more than an altercation –– they’d lost.

It took only moments for Qin to connect the dots.  It was a fight over the excavation.  Whatever it was, the Americans knew General Wei had it flown home.  Now they too were trying to find out what Wei had done with it.

“Find out who was in the system.  Use the entire team if you must.”

M0ngol nodded on the other end.  He was going to do more than just find him.

***

Fifteen hours away in his own dark computer lab, Will Borger had his answer.

His farm of servers had successfully found and tracked the pixel profile of Wei’s car and displayed not just the path of the car, but where it had stopped.

And just like Clay had deduced, it was a small rural hospital.

Borger couldn’t dial the number fast enough.  When Clay answered, he almost shouted into the phone.  “We have it!”

“Have what?”

“Wei’s destination.  And it was his only stop after leaving with the case.”

“Location?”

“Just over four hundred and sixty miles due north of Beijing!  In the mountains.  Looks like it’s a small hospital for several surrounding towns and villages.  I’ll text you the name and coordinates.”

“Nice work, Will.”

“Listen,” he continued.  “There’s also a small airfield about ninety miles further north.  It looks usable and would probably allow you to get there faster, but it might be military.  Just an FYI.”

“Okay.  We’ll stick to the roads then.  Should be in Beijing in about twelve hours.  I’ll check back in three.”

“Sounds good.”

Clay ended the call and looked at Tang in the driver’s seat.  “You need a break?”

“Not yet.”  Tang nodded to the satellite phone.  “Where we headed?”

“A small hospital about four hundred north of Beijing.  We’re looking for General Wei’s daughter.”

Tang raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on the dark road in front of them.  “The intel I got said Wei’s daughter was dead.”

“Yeah.  Ours too.”

38

At just past six a.m., Doctor Lee waited patiently by the door while his nurse helped Li Na Wei back into bed.  They were both amazed at how quickly her strength was returning after being nearly motionless for three weeks.  There was minimal shaking in her legs and her balance was quite good.

The nurse propped a worn pillow behind Li Na’s back, allowing her to sit up straighter.  Once she was settled, the nurse straightened the sheets and blanket again before nodding to Lee and leaving the room.

It was far too soon in his opinion, but a pledge was a pledge.  If she awakened, Wei wanted his daughter informed immediately.  A decision Lee still felt was excessive given the girl’s current state of health.  The last thing she needed at the moment was an emotional blow like this.

He sat down on the foot of her bed and leaned forward with a soft look on his face.  “You are doing very well, Li Na.  Very well.  But there are things I need to tell you.  Things about your father and things about how you got here.”

“Okay,” she said, peering at him curiously.  Her body still felt weak, but her eyes were wide awake.

Lee reached inside his dingy white coat and retrieved an envelope.  Without a word, he handed it to Li Na.

She took it in her right hand, examining it, and then turned it over to find a familiar seal on the back.  It was her father’s chop.  She slid her finger under a loose section and ripped the flap open, breaking the wax seal.  Several sheets of paper were folded neatly inside.

Li Na glanced at the doctor nervously as she pulled them out and unfolded the pages.  Her father’s handwriting covered both sides of every one.

Beneath the room’s single fluorescent light, and while Dr. Lee waited, Li Na began reading.

When she finished, she was weeping.

“Is this true?”

Lee frowned.  “I don’t know what it says.”

“My father is dead?”

The doctor nodded solemnly.  “Yes.  I’m very sorry, Li Na.”

She covered her eyes with both hands and sobbed.  “Why?!”

She knew why.  It was all in the letter.  Her final days of a deteriorating disease, most of which she was not conscious for.  Her father’s depression after losing Li Na’s mother, and his utter devastation at the impending loss of his daughter.  His princess.

But unlike many fathers who might be struggling with the same agony, there was something he could do.  There was a slight chance that Wei could still save his daughter’s life by giving his own.  By sacrificing everything he had, including their family name.  Their honor.  He wrote about the many memories he had of her as a young girl.  The dancing, the smiles, the laughs.  And her hugs that made him feel as though there was no one else in the world but them.

He explained that in the final days, those memories were all that enabled him to get out of bed in the morning.  To continue on, accompanied only by desperation and the fear that he would run out of time.

He never revealed to her that he’d been in charge of a project investigating a unique discovery deep in the jungle.  One that proved to be as important as they hoped.  And just as dangerous to the world as he feared.  Something utterly miraculous.

Alas, to use the discovery meant erasing every link or reference to it that he could, including himself to her.  It was why he sought out Dr. Lee and secretly moved Li Na from her hospital in Beijing.  It was why he destroyed much of the information and falsified the rest.  And ultimately, why he took his own life, returning to the eternal arms of Li Na’s mother.  He died just for the hope that his precious daughter might live.

Some Chinese fathers were bound by honor.  Others were bound by love.

Finally, he told her to remember how much they both loved her, what an amazing young woman she was, and that one day she would change the world.  The greatest honor of his life had been as her father, and he would be grateful for eternity for that distinction.

Li Na kept her head against the headboard and slowly opened her eyes.  “I don’t want to live,” she said, shaking her head.  “Not without either of them.”

Lee didn’t answer.

She brushed several strands of wet hair out of her face and stared at Lee.  Parents were the only true anchors a child had to the Earth.  And now…now she was cast adrift.  What did anything even matter now?

As if reading her mind, Dr. Lee cleared his voice.  “This might be difficult for you to hear, but your father was proud to do what he did.”

She laid a hand back over one of her eyes.  “I know.”

“I learned something, Li Na, when my father died several years ago.  He was very old, but I was happy to spend time with him before he passed.  We talked for hours, and I told him the most important thing to me, as his child, was to know that he was proud of me.”

She lowered her hand and blinked.  “I know he was proud of me.”

“Do you know what my father told me?”

She shook her head.

“He told me that the most important thing to him, as my father, was to see me live.”  Lee thought for a moment before his eyes returned to hers.  “I’ve been a doctor for many years.  I’ve seen a lot.  And still it’s hard to explain.  Understand, Li Na, that when a man loses a spouse, it destroys his heart.  But when a father loses a child it destroys his soul.”

Across the bed, her bottom lip began to tremble.

“I can promise you, there was nothing more important to him than saving your life.”

She didn’t speak again for several minutes.  Finally she asked, “What exactly did he do?”

Dr. Lee shook his head.  “I have no idea.”  When she looked puzzled, he continued.  “He wouldn’t tell me.  He said it would only make things more dangerous.  That no matter how thorough he was, someone would still find out what he had done.  Of that he was sure.  The discovery was so important to the government that they would never give up.”

“I can’t stay here, can I?”

Lee was hesitant but shook his head.  “Not for long.”

“How long?”

“That depends on you.  On when you’re ready.  I personally think you have a lot more healing to do, but then again, I don’t know the things that your father did.”

“Neither of us does.”

Lee’s lip curled slightly.  “That’s true.”

The room fell quiet before Lee promptly stood up.

“I have some things for you.  From your father.”  He left the room and returned a few minutes later.  In one hand was a soft leather satchel.  In the other was a square case made of metal.  Lee put them both on the bed within reach of her good hand.

“Take your time.  These were left for you and they have not been opened.”  He walked to the door where he turned back to her.  “Don’t try to figure everything out today.  We have time, and I’ll help you.”

Li Na watched him pull the old wooden door closed behind him. She peered down curiously at the two items resting on her bed and picked up the leather satchel first.  She began to open it but paused.  Her emotions might not be ready for what was inside.

She set it back down and instead pulled the metal case closer.  After studying it, she tried one of the clasps which promptly sprung open.  She followed with the second, which opened just as easily.

Slowly, Li Na lifted the cold top, pushing it up and away.  The contents were surprising given the bulkiness of the case’s exterior.  Inside were three large vials fitted neatly into a hard interior gel.

One was filled with a frozen, pinkish material. The other two were empty.

39

In South America, just over the Peruvian border, another wind shear hit the C-12 Huron hard, sending everyone in the cabin sideways and clinging desperately to the arms of their seats.

They were less than fifty miles from Iquitos and running on fumes.  The pilots fought to keep the plane’s altitude level as the pounding rain reduced their visibility to what was directly in front of them.  They were now fighting for a controlled descent.

Communication from the small airport in Iquitos was now constant, feeding the pilots information from the ground and waiting for visual contact.

In the cabin, DeeAnn was desperately trying to maintain a grip on Dulce’s hand, which was now covered in sweat.  She hadn’t said a word in the last thirty minutes.  Instead, her young hazel eyes were wide with fear, squeezing DeeAnn with one hand and her chair with the other.

“It’s okay, Dulce.  We’re okay.”  DeeAnn kept talking loudly through the speaker on her chest, trying to calm her.  She lowered her face, trying to get the small gorilla to look at her.  Unsuccessful, she spoke over the noise to Caesare.  “How much longer?!”

“Ten minutes!”

Caesare watched DeeAnn roll her eyes and turn back to Dulce, who he realized was obviously having trouble.  But he was focused on something far more critical –– the sound of the engines outside, or more specifically the sound of sputtering.  The fearful sound that would tell him the last of their fuel was gone.  As long as he could hear their high-pitched whine, they still had a chance.  But if they lost the engines at this distance, even a decent glide ratio wouldn’t get them far enough.  And now, deep over the rainforest, there were no open areas for an emergency landing.  It was the runway at Iquitos or nothing.

Another sudden plunge tested their seatbelts, and a loud whimper was heard from Dulce.  Behind DeeAnn, Juan had both eyes closed.  If they crashed, he didn’t want to see it coming.

Caesare tuned out the voices of the two pilots in the cockpit and pressed to find the engines again amongst the noise.  But instead he heard the sound he had been dreading…a sputtering engine.  The left fuel tank was now empty.

The voices of the pilots turned to shouts as they tried to restart the engine.  No dice.  They redirected everything to the right side, fighting even harder to keep the craft level.

Caesare felt the nervousness and fear coursing through his veins.  He tried to concentrate as if to will the second engine to keep turning.  He couldn’t let everyone die.

He checked his watch again…eight minutes.

40

The right engine began to sputter.  Just twelve seconds before their forceful impact onto the Iquitos runway.

The sudden reverse thrust of the right engine caused everyone to lurch forward.  But the uneven reversal resulted in the aircraft veering hard to the right.  Suddenly they were off the wet runway, careening into a field of tall wet grass and mud.

The soggy ground grabbed the wheels instantly and pitched the Huron sideways, causing its left wheel to buckle and its struts to smash into the black asphalt.  A shower of sparks erupted under the plane as the struts dug into the asphalt, continuing over the edge and into the mud.

With a thunderous shaking, the plane slowed and its large nose crashed into the ground, plowing to a violent stop.

Caesare was instantly on his feet and across the aisle, pushing DeeAnn and then Dulce back in their seats, checking for injuries.  Both stared back at him, alive but in shock.

“Is anyone hurt?”  He unbuckled their belts and gently searched DeeAnn first.  She shook her head and he turned to Dulce, who immediately leaped into his arms, soaking wet and clinging as tightly as she could.

No like bird.

With Tiewater already pulling Juan from the seat behind them, Caesare could only laugh.

The large wooden door burst open and Will Borger stuck his head into the conference room, interrupting Langford, who was seated with several other men.

“Sir!   Steve Caesare and the others are on the ground in Iquitos!”

Langford took a huge breath and leaned back in his chair.  “Thank God.  Any injuries?”

“None, sir.  Everyone is fine.”

Langford looked across the table with relief.  Secretary of Defense, Merl Miller, smiled.  “That was damn close.”

All of them broke into laughter and Langford slapped the table.  He then turned to Borger. “You tell him if he does that again, I’ll court-martial him.”

“Yes, sir!”

Langford turned to Douglas Bartman, the Secretary of State, sitting across the table and to his right.  The man was smiling under a head of dark brown hair.  “The Peruvian government assured us they will keep the incident quiet.  And it’s a hell of a lot easier to maintain our cover of a humanitarian mission now without casualties.”

“Any cooperation from Guyana yet?”

“No.  Not from any of them yet.”

“What about Brazil?”

Bartman frowned.  “Brazil has severed all communications with us.  As has Venezuela.”

“Well, Venezuela isn’t a surprise.”  Miller shrugged.

“Agreed.  Brazil is surprising though.  Then again, their Union is coming apart at the seams so we don’t know what the hell is going on in there.”

“Or,” Langford replied, “it could mean they know more about our involvement than we think.”

“You think they know why the Bowditch was sunk?”

“They might.”  Langford turned to Borger, still at the door.  “Keep us posted, Will, and provide whatever help you can to Caesare’s team.  We’ll work on things from here.  If you find any indication that someone knows what we’re up to, tell me immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”  Borger ducked back out and closed the door.

Langford returned to Miller.  “You were saying?”

“We have three full ranger teams ready to go in if Caesare’s team fails.  There will be no secrecy at that point, just a fight to take the primate back from the Brazilians, assuming they find it first.  We’ll get it, I can promise you that.  But it will be messy, both militarily and politically.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Across the table, Bartman shrugged.  “Your man Caesare is not only outmanned but taking in two civilians and an ape.  I’m betting we’re gonna need those Rangers.”

Langford’s phone rang and he leaned forward to fish it out of his pocket while replying to Bartman.  “You might be surprised.”

He answered his phone.  “Langford.”

“Admiral Langford?  This is Alison Shaw.”

Langford looked around the table with a mild look of surprise.  “Ms. Shaw.  What can I do for you?  I trust Officer Lawton has arrived.”

“Yes, she has,” Alison answered.  “She’s with me on this call.  We have some important information.”

“Okay.  I’m listening.”

On the other end, Neely leaned closer to the phone.  “Admiral, we think we may have a lead on another biological source.”

“What kind of source?”

“Plants, sir.  With similar characteristics to those in Guyana.”

Langford’s expression froze.  “Repeat that, please.”

“We may have another source, sir.  Like the others.  But in a different location.”

Langford stood up out of his chair and stared at the other men in front of him.  “What do you need?”

Leaning onto her desk, Alison glanced at Neely.  “Funny you should ask, Admiral.”

In a pressed white button-down shirt, Captain Emerson was standing quietly aboard the U.S.S. Pathfinder’s bridge, reviewing a report on a thin computer tablet.  He calmly flicked his finger, scrolling the screen, and continued reading even after he was interrupted by his communications officer.

“Captain?”

“Yes,” Emerson answered without looking up.

“Sir, I have an urgent message for you.”

“From who?”

“From the Pentagon, sir.”

Emerson stopped reading and looked up.  The officer rose from his seat and handed the captain a folded piece of paper.  Emerson lowered the tablet and took the paper, flipping it open with one hand.

He read the short message and blinked at the white paper.  He read it a second time, more slowly.

“You have got to be joking.”

41

“Hello, Sally.”

Hello Alison.  Sally’s eyes moved to Neely.  Hello friend.

Neely smiled.  “Hi, Sally.”

“When will Dirk be back?”

Dirk back tomorrow.

“Hmm,” Alison paused, wondering how on Earth she knew that.  “Sally, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

Yes.  Sally answered, thrusting her tail and gliding in toward the edge of the tank.  We talk.

“Sally, we’d like to take you and Dirk back to the place you showed us.  The beautiful.  Will you come with us?”

Yes.  We go happy.

“But we need to go quickly.  On the metal.  Like the first time.”

Okay.

Alison opened her mouth to speak again but stopped.  She waited several seconds for Sally to say something else, but there was only silence.  She half expected Sally to ask why they were going back, but she didn’t.  Alison glanced briefly at Neely as if to say, that was easy.

She then turned back to the tank.  “Sally, you told me that dolphins remember a lot.  Like a history.”  Before she could continue, IMIS emitted a loud sound from the computer screen.  It didn’t have a translation word for “history.”

“Do you remember telling me that?”

Yes Alison.

“You also told me you were happy for us to talk again.”

Very happy Alison.  You happy too.

“Yes, I am very happy.  Just like you.  But this is the first time we remember talking to dolphins.  With the help of our metal.  Do you remember talking to us?”

Yes.  We talk Alison.  Far ago.  You no remember.

“No.  We don’t.  How do you remember?”

Heads.

Alison turned to explain to Neely, who was still wearing an expression of mild amazement. “Heads means their elders.  We met some near Trinidad.  From what we can gather, their lineage resembles some of the early cultural histories of humans.  Passing down history and knowledge through verbal communications.”

“Fascinating.”

“It really is.  It suggests a certain evolutionary commonality across species.  Chris thinks it’s where instinct leaves off and cognition begins.”

Neely nodded.  “It would explain an awful lot.”

“I agree.”  Alison continued.  “Sally, do you know how long ago humans and dolphins talked?”

No.  Heads know.

“Do you think we can ask them?”

Yes.  Them very talk.  Heads very happy for Dirk and Sally.

“Your elders are happy for you?”

Yes.

“Why are your heads happy for you?”

This time, Alison could have sworn Sally smiled.  Alison. Humans happy you and Chris make talk.

She nodded.  “Yes, they are.  Chris and I are the first.”

Dirk and Sally first two.  A moment later IMIS changed the word “two” to “too.”

Alison stood motionless, staring at Sally through the glass after her words reverberated over the computer’s speaker.  She was overcome by a revelation followed by an odd feeling of embarrassment.  She suddenly realized how one-dimensional her thinking had been this whole time.

She should have been looking at the tank’s glass as a mirror.

Alison, Chris, and Lee had garnered a small amount of notoriety for being the very first and only humans to break the language barrier.  What she had never considered until now was that it was exactly the same for Dirk and Sally.  To their own culture, they were the ones who broke through to mankind.  As excited as Alison was, her dolphin friends were clearly just as excited.

***

Alison pushed her office door open with her shoulder and stepped inside, carrying two cups of coffee.  She placed one on the desk in front of Neely before stepping back and sitting in a second chair.

Neely took a sip and watched her with a bemused grin.  “Quite a day, huh?”

“God, you can say that again.”

“How are you feeling?”

Alison almost laughed. “Elated.  Shocked.  Exhausted.”

“Amazed.”

“That too.  And maybe a little obtuse.”

“That was quite a conversation to witness.  I’m guessing you had no idea that was coming.”

Alison shook her head.  “No.  But talk about big!”

“I would say so.”

“There are so many implications to all of this –– biology, evolution, anthropology.  The things we’re learning by finally being able to communicate with another true sentient being are staggering.”

Neely sipped her coffee again.  “They certainly are.”

At that, Alison paused to study her colleague.  “Given what we just learned, you seem a tad calm.”

Neely laughed.  “I know.  I do.  There’s a reason for that.  I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“About something Sally said.”  She leaned forward and placed the cup back on the desk, then straightened in the chair.  “Let me start by saying how impressive that computer system is that you built.  I mean, I’m skeptical by nature, but that system is turning me into a believer.”

“I know the feeling.”

“It’s funny.  There is a fine line between skepticism and optimism.  Skeptics want you to prove it and optimists want you to believe it.  And speaking from deep in the former’s camp, I will admit there is a certain resistance there to big ideas.”

Alison shrugged.  “Skeptics keep optimists grounded.”

Neely chuckled. “That’s how a lot of us like to think of it.  Some of it also comes from constant disappointment, but that’s another story.  The reason I’m saying this is because I’ve been considering some things from the other side.  My first reaction when Sally said humans and dolphins used to communicate was that it was nonsense.  It sounds like a plot for some kid’s movie.”

Alison laughed.

“But the more I think about it, the more disappointed I am with myself for dismissing it.  Because, even objectively speaking, there are some aspects of science that may support it.  Particularly in genetics.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Think of our genetic history as a giant tree system with branches cascading down to smaller and smaller branches, all replicating millions of times, over millions of years, and eventually touching everything.”  Neely stopped mid-thought.  “Have you ever heard the old Albert Einstein quote that, ‘God doesn’t play dice with the universe?’”

“I don’t think so.”

“Einstein was troubled by the apparent randomness of the universe and came to believe that there had to be some underlying, hidden law to explain why what appeared to be random actually wasn’t.  Most of his thinking had to do with particles and things like that.  But it still begs the question: does God play dice?”

“When you say dice are you talking about chance?”

“Yes, exactly.”  Neely nodded.  “Regardless of a person’s fundamental religious belief, if we step back and ask ourselves that question, most people have to acknowledge that the answer is yes.  At least to a large extent.”

Alison looked confused and put her own cup down.  “I’m not sure I’m following.”

“Okay, look.  Let’s say half the population believes that life is designed, while the other half believes it simply evolves.  Evolution being the randomness, or chance, that Einstein struggled with.”

“Okay.”

“So here’s the rub.  If I didn’t believe the world was created by chance, then why does the entire planet currently operate on chance, including virtually every form of life on it?”

“Life runs on chance?”

“Yes!  Think about it.  Each tree, plant, and even grass all release millions of seeds and billions of pollen over their lifetime in the hope of reproducing, or spreading.  This happens every day all over the planet.  Animals and insects do the same.  Even with humans, females produce hundreds of eggs and males produce billions of sperm, all for the chance of reproduction.  It’s the same everywhere to varying degrees.  Almost all life on planet Earth operates under the rules of chance.”

Alison stared at Neely.  “Wow!”

“Right?  Anyway, I didn’t bring that up to get on a soapbox.  I personally believe in God, but I think there are some big gaps in the explanation.  Those who believe in intelligent design might argue the chance factor was part of the design, which is a valid point.  What I’m trying to say is this: when you consider the sheer magnitude chance plays in our world, and the genetic cross-pollination that’s been going on for millions of years, is it any surprise that much of our DNA is the same?”

“Well, humans had to start somewhere, right?”

“I don’t just mean humans, Alison.  I mean ALL life.  All life on the planet shares a LOT of DNA.”

Alison nodded.  “Like humans and primates.”

“Correct.  But the genetic picture is even bigger.  Our closest DNA relative is the chimpanzee.  Did you know that of the three billion basepairs in the human genome, we share 99% of those with chimpanzees?”

“Wow.  I didn’t know it was that high.”

“Most people don’t.  But this is where it gets interesting.  We also share 97% of our DNA with all other apes, and we share 93% with mice.”

“Mice?!”

Neely nodded.  “Mice.  And if you keep going down the line, you’ll find that we share over 50% of our DNA with a banana.”

Alison’s eyes widened.  “What?  That can’t be right.”

“It is,” Neely smiled.  “Now stay with me.  I’m about to explain why I started this.  If life’s reproduction processes operate by mathematical chance, and its DNA is like a giant tree branching out over the planet for millions of years, leading us to now share much of what we are genetically…then how different do you think we really are from dolphins?”

Alison eased herself back into the chair with eyes still fixed on Neely.

“Alison, Sally said we used to be able to communicate.  And while I initially dismissed it, looking at it from strictly a genetic standpoint, does it still seem all that impossible?”

“No.”

“No,” agreed Neely.  “And here’s the kicker –– most of that shared DNA is considered junk.  Strands and basepairs that have long been deactivated through evolution.  And there’s no telling what they used to be used for.  What if some of those billions of old genes tied into some of our cognitive communication?  What if there were abilities that used to be active and we have simply evolved out of them?  In other words, what if we lost the ability through evolution but dolphins didn’t?”

42

“Alison, it’s me.”

“DeeAnn?!  How are you?”

DeeAnn didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  “We’re okay.  Even though Steve just tried to kill us.  But we’re in Iquitos now.”  She braced herself as the large SUV she was riding in turned a corner.

Known as the Capital of the Peruvian Amazon, the city was founded between the Amazon, Nanay, and Itaya rivers as far back as 1757 as a Spanish Jesuit deduction.  Originally inhabited by Yameos and Iquito natives, the city eventually grew to be a lead city in the late eighteenth century during South America’s “rubber boom.”

Today Iquitos stood as a proud city among giant plains, dwarfed on all sides by the western Amazon jungle.  None of which could be seen by DeeAnn or anyone else in the vehicle thanks to a torrential downpour.

“We got hit by the mother of all storms, and we’re now trying to make our way to some place called Pebas.”  DeeAnn’s side window was abruptly covered by a wave of water as they passed through an intersection.

“How’s everyone else?”

“Good,” she said, raising her voice over the beating of the windshield wipers.  She looked to Dulce next to her.  Her small face was plastered against the opposite window in what could only be described as fascination.  “Apparently some are doing better than others.”

“What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter.  We’re all fine, although Steven is not exactly my favorite person at the moment.”

On the other end, Alison looked playfully at Neely.  “What’s that?  Steve Caesare’s not your favorite person?”  She covered the phone’s microphone with her hand and whispered excitedly to Neely.  “He’s still available!”

Neely Lawton stared at her, turning several shades of red from embarrassment.   “Shut up!”

“What’s in Pebas?” Alison asked, removing her hand.

“I don’t know.  Steven isn’t telling me.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”  DeeAnn rocked in her seat after a large dip in the road.  “Anyway, I can’t talk for long.  I just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, DeeAnn.  I’m glad you’re all okay.  We’ve had a few surprises here.”

“Anything bad?”

“No.  Not bad.  More like…astounding.”

“That’s great.  I look forward to hearing all about it when I get back.”

“Deal.”

DeeAnn smiled.  “Thanks, Ali.  I needed a quick pick-me-up.  When Steven stops talking, I get nervous.”

“I know the feeling.  Hang in there and call back when you can.”

“I will.  Thanks.”

DeeAnn hung up the phone and watched as Caesare twisted around from the seat in front of her.

“Please tell me you forgot I was in the car with you.”

She gave him a devious smile.  “Whoops.”

The deluge continued for the entire duration of the drive.  Outside, the heavy rain left little to see, even out the front windshield.  The bright headlights behind them were the only evidence that the other two vehicles were still there, carrying Juan and the rest of Caesare’s team.

The rain eventually began to lighten.  Shortly afterwards, the Peruvian driver next to Caesare slowed and turned onto a small muddy road which was almost entirely hidden in the dense jungle.  DeeAnn jumped when giant leaves began slapping the sides of the vehicle as it bounced and rattled over a trail not much wider than a set of tire tracks.  After a few miles, the slapping gradually disappeared and the leaves were replaced by bright green grass on both sides, illuminated by the headlights.

Moments later they caught sight of an approaching structure with its shadowy shape rising into the darkness.  Upon closer inspection, they watched the outline materialize into an old Quonset hut with dim glowing lights inside. The shadow of another unmistakable shape emerged next to the building –– a large airplane sitting idle in the tall grass.

Stopping next to the old building, DeeAnn could make out the words “La Vida Del Aire” painted in large red letters on the plane’s fuselage.

The driver climbed out at the same time as Caesare, who briefly ducked back in his own door and grinned at them.  “Wait right here.”

The door slammed shut before she could think of a reply, leaving her and Dulce sitting in silence, silhouetted in the bright glow of the vehicle’s headlights directly behind them.

“Wait right here?”

Dulce didn’t reply.  She was trying to touch the small streams of water zigzagging down the other side of her window.

DeeAnn watched as the other three men’s shadows passed her window and joined both Caesare and their driver.  Together, the five climbed a short set of wooden steps.  Pushing open a door to a scarcely lit room, they all disappeared inside.

***

The metal door banged shut behind them as the men examined what appeared to be more a living room than an office.  In fact, even calling it a living room was a stretch.  The only two furniture items of note consisted of a ratty leather couch in the middle and a large, dark wood table with nonmatching chairs nearby.

Along the right wall, miscellaneous crates and empty boxes were stacked neatly against the hut’s metal frame which rose above them, echoing the fading raindrops outside.   Underfoot, wooden planks squeaked almost as loudly as the door when the men moved forward.  They stopped again when another man in his late fifties appeared from the far end.  He was dressed in faded blue coveralls and a wide brimmed hat, dripping from both sides.

“Buenos dias, Ricardo.”  The stranger stepped forward into the light, revealing red cheeks and a thin graying beard.  He motioned to the ceiling and the sound of rain picking back up.  “What are you doing out in this?”

The driver, Ricardo, waved.  “Buenos dias, Joe.  I have some Americans come to see you.”

From under his brim, Joe peered curiously at Caesare and the other men.   “You don’t say.  And what might you boys want?”

“A little help,” Caesare replied.  He then cocked his head slightly.  “Your accent sounds an awful lot like a Texan.”

“Oklahoma,” the man corrected, stepping closer.  “Been an ex-pat almost as long as I spent there though.  What kind of help you and your giant friend looking for?”

Corso gave Caesare a sidelong glance but remained silent.

“We’re hoping for a ride.”

“A ride?”  He closed one eye, suspiciously.  “You boys in trouble?”

Caesare grinned.  “Not yet.”

He noticed the tattoo on Tiewater’s forearm.  “You military?”

“Not as far as you know.”

“Then what are ya?”

“How about environmentalists?”

Joe chuckled.  “Well, they sure are growing you big these days.  Okay, I’ll bite.  What’s a bunch of environmentalists need a ride for on a night like this?”

“Surveying mostly.  We’re having trouble finding a ride in from the north.”

“That’s what I hear.  That must be some damn important surveying.”

Caesare slid a backpack off his shoulder and approached the table.  He unzipped a large pocket and pulled out five stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills.  “You could say that.”

Joe studied the bills and slowly shook his head.  “I ain’t going to jail for anybody.  Jail in South America is a hell of a lot different than the States.  It doesn’t take shipping much of anything illegal to spend the rest of your life in a place I don’t wanna be in.”

“That makes five of us.  We just want a ride, Joe, and quickly.  You’re the closest and can get us the farthest.”

He eyed the money again, uneasy.  Men dropping money like that usually had a heap of trouble not far behind them.  “What makes you think that plane outside even flies?”

“Because it would be awfully hard to make your secret drops over the border without one.  Food and medical supplies don’t fly themselves under the radar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Caesare grinned again and stepped forward in his dripping wet boots.  “Humanitarian missions can be a sensitive topic.  Especially in countries like Venezuela who don’t like to admit they have serious problems, even when their governments are crumbling around them.  They’d rather let thousands of their citizens starve than appear weak and admit they need help.

“And the aid they do receive is always highly visible.  With things like documentation, customs inspections, and import clearances.  Bureaucracy that slows things down and gets a lot of things lost in the process.  Am I right?”

“How would I know?”

“Not surprisingly, some organizations take the most expedient route and simply drop supplies themselves.  Usually at dusk and in areas that aren’t well monitored.”

The older man folded his arms, remaining quiet.

“Joe, our goals here aren’t all that different.  If you don’t out us, we won’t out you.”

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

Caesare shook his head.  “I’ve never been much for coercion.  Just consider it another drop.  Prepaid.  And a way to help a whole lot more people.”

“Yeah?  How many more?”

“More than you can count.”

Joe nodded, then held up his hands.  “All right.  Don’t tell me any more.  I reckon the less I know, the better.”

Tiewater smiled.  “You and us both.”

“Well, we can’t go anywhere until this storm eases up.  A few hours at the very least.  And I don’t know where you’re headed, but there ain’t many places to land if you’re going east.  So I don’t know how far you’re gonna get.”

Caesare opened his mouth to speak when they were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening again.  They turned to see DeeAnn step inside from out of the rain, holding Dulce in her arms.

Joe’s eyes opened wide with surprise at the sight of the gorilla.

“Something tells me this is one of the things I probably shouldn’t know.”

***

It was dawn before the storm began to abate and move north again.  Caesare’s team finished packing the plane while DeeAnn and Juan stood near a wall of the forested jungle, waiting and watching Dulce sniff and nibble on various plant leaves.  They had enough food for her on the plane to last several days, but it was an opportunity for Dulce to acclimate her diet if possible.

This good.

DeeAnn examined the tree and compared it to a small book that covered many of the indigenous species of the area.

“Is that one okay?”  Juan asked.

“She certainly seems to think so.” DeeAnn picked one of the leaves and held it next to the book.  “Ipomoea something. Says it’s a variant of a sweet potato.”

Juan frowned.  “Are you supposed to eat the leaves?”

“They’re edible.”  She took a bite.  “Tastes a little like sweetened spinach.  Here.”

“I’m good.  Thanks.”

DeeAnn laughed and caught Juan peering at the airplane over a hundred yards away.  Joe was beneath it, running his checks.

“You okay?”

“I guess so.  I’m just worried.”

“About what?”

“Everything.”  Juan struggled to understand what it was exactly that was bothering him. Maybe he was overly sensitive after their last trip.  Maybe he was too exhausted to think clearly.  Or maybe he was thinking clearly and his last trip had awakened a new level of paranoia in him, or perhaps common sense.

The two were interrupted by Dulce.  Without warning, she sprang to her feet and ran between them toward an approaching Steve Caesare.  He caught the gorilla in mid-leap and raised her up onto his shoulder.

“Everybody ready?”

“I think so.  We were just doing a little foraging.  In case we run out of food.”

“Good idea.  How about you, Juan?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

DeeAnn reached for Dulce.  “We need another potty break.  There’s no toilet on that plane.”

She lowered Dulce to the ground and headed back toward the hut.  The structure was now clearly visible in the morning light, and completely covered in rust.

As he watched them leave, Caesare turned to Juan.  “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Look, I know this isn’t easy.  But I do appreciate you coming with us.”

“I guess I figured it would be better to volunteer before I was forced to come.  That is what was going to happen, right?”

Caesare nodded.  “More or less.”

“Then no thanks necessary.”  He offered Caesare a meek smile.

Caesare stood, studying him.  “Why did you volunteer, Juan?”

“I told you.  It was better to-”

Caesare cut him off.  “That’s not it.  I can read people, kid, and there’s something else going on.”

Juan didn’t respond immediately.  Instead, he looked back at the plane before answering.  “It’s my little sister.”

“Your sister?”

“She’s only six.  She was a surprise to my parents when I was fourteen…and she’s amazing.  We have a big gap between us, but she looks up to me like I walk on water.  She calls me her héroe.”

“I don’t think I’m following.”

“My parents worked a lot so I was the one who looked after her.  You know, kept her safe and all.  She looks up to me.”

“What’s her name?”

“Angelina.”  Juan breathed in, struggling.  “I came because she was diagnosed a few months ago with leukemia.  And she’s showing accelerated symptoms.”

Caesare shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Juan.”

“If you met her, you’d know why I volunteered.  She’s the most incredible kid I’ve ever known.  Always smiling.  Always making everyone happy.  Even when she gets disappointed, she just smiles and says it’s okay.”  Juan’s trembling lips turned into a smile.  “She says her favorite part of the day is when I get home.”

He glanced over Caesare’s shoulder at Tiewater, who was now crossing the small field toward them.

“DeeAnn told me what you guys found on the mountain, Mr. Caesare.  So if there’s something out there that might help my sister, I’m willing to do whatever I can.  After all, a hero doesn’t give up, right?”

With a sympathetic frown, Caesare nodded and turned as Tiewater reached them.

“Sir, we’re ready.”

Behind them, the large propellers of a 1952 Douglas DC-3 began to turn as one engine sputtered and roared to life, followed by the second.  Black smoke coughed from the massive Rolls Royce Dark Mk. 510 engines, then quickly dissipated in the warm moist breeze blowing across the open field.

As the three men approached the aircraft, Joe swung around and met them near the tail, yelling over the deafening engines.  “I have a local guy who helps me with the drops but figured you wanted to keep our party small.”

“The smaller, the better,” Caesare yelled back.

The older man nodded before grabbing the metal ladder and climbing into the fuselage.

When DeeAnn climbed aboard, she paused at the top of the ladder, still clutching Dulce in one arm.  She glanced down the inside of the fuselage to find Juan and Anderson.  Both were sitting on a long, padded metal bench near the opening of the plane’s cockpit where Joe was checking his instruments.  Against the other wall, three large boxes were secured by orange nylon straps with giant balls of fabric on top.

The thundering roar behind them forced her inside quickly, causing her to trip and stumble into the arms of Tiewater.  He caught her and gently turned the two around at which point they managed to make it to the bench.  When they sat down, Anderson handed her two worn pairs of headsets.

DeeAnn peered at them and placed one over her head.  She then took the other and held it to Dulce’s head, trying to determine the best way to situate them.  When she finally wiggled them in place on top of Dulce’s petite skull, she almost laughed.

Dulce looked surprised at the sudden reduction in noise.  She scanned the cabin curiously, then pulled her headset off again.

“No.  Keep it on, honey.”  DeeAnn grabbed Dulce’s headset and pushed it precariously back into place.   “It will keep things quieter.”

Dulce stared at her before making a chuttering sound, and pulled them back off.

She turned to Juan.  “I guess it’s still too loud for the vest to work in here.”

“It definitely won’t work as well.  Maybe if they close the door.”

Anderson smiled.  “There is no door.”

“What?”

“It would be too hard to open in mid-flight.”

“Are you saying it’s going to be this loud the whole way?”

“Yep,  the whole way!” he laughed.

With her mouth open, DeeAnn shook her head.  There was a little less noise inside the plane, but still enough to have to raise her voice over.  She stared at the open door before turning back.  “Aren’t we going to freeze?”

“Nah.  We’ll be flying low until the end.”

Just then Corso’s huge frame climbed into view and nodded to Tiewater, who joined them in the forward cabin. “You’re going to want to belt in for takeoff.  It’s going to get pretty bouncy,” he yelled.

“Oh geez.”  DeeAnn fumbled for the belt behind Dulce.

“What’s in these big boxes?”

“Our supplies.”  He raised a hand and patted a small area of Dulce’s head.  “And her food.”

“What’s that on top of the boxes?”

Before she could get a reply, Tiewater turned as a large, thick pack flew through the open door, caught by Corso.  He promptly dropped it behind him and caught another.  This repeated until he had several packs stacked neatly on the floor.

A minute later, the engines roared louder.  Caesare finally climbed up the ladder, tossing the wheel blocks toward the rear.  He quickly pulled the ladder up as the plane began to move over the bumpy field, accelerating and turning the bumps into larger bounces.

DeeAnn’s eyes followed Caesare as he approached, squeezing in behind her and Anderson.  “I liked the last plane better,” she said aloud.

He grinned.

Glancing again at the boxes, she repeated her question.  “What’s that cloth thing on top?”

Caesare frowned.  “Listen, Dee.  Remember when you told Alison you weren’t a big fan of mine at the moment?”

“I was joking!”

“I know.  But this isn’t going to help.”

“What do you mean?”  It was then that she suddenly put things together.  The cloth on top of the large boxes and the packs that Caesare threw to Corso through the door.  “What WERE those?!”

Caesare tone became apologetic.  “There was no other option, Dee.  Believe me.”

Her eyes widened nervously.

“If there were an easier way to get in, we would have taken it.”

“Oh my God!”  She began to panic.  “Are those parachutes?!”

“Kind of.”

“KIND OF?!”

“Okay.  They’re parachutes.”

Juan leaned forward with the same look as DeeAnn.  “Did you say parachutes?!”

“I was hoping we would find another option.  But there isn’t one.  And unfortunately, there aren’t any runways where we’re going.  Just enough fuel to make it there and back.”

“Oh, God!  Please tell me you’re kidding!”

Caesare shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  There was no other way.”

She covered her face with her hands, then pulled them away.  “No!  No!  I am NOT jumping out of an airplane!  Stop!  Stop the plane!”

Just as she spoke, DeeAnn became aware that their bouncing from side to side had promptly dissipated.  She stared out of the door, past both Caesare and Corso who were now on the end of the bench.  She was just in time to see the blur of bright green grass fall away as the powerful DC-3 climbed into the air.

“Take it easy,” Caesare said loudly.  “It’s going to be fine.”

“Normal people do not equate parachutes with things going fine, Steven!”

Caesare winked.  “Trust me.  Clay and I have done hundreds of these and never had a single problem.  You couldn’t be in safer hands.”

Hearing no further disputes, Caesare nodded and leaned back against the metal wall behind him.  He was glad they didn’t press him on it because that last bit wasn’t entirely accurate.

43

“Hey, Clay.  How you holding up?”

“Swimmingly, Will.  What do you have?”

Borger was staring at a red circle on his screen, displaying the GPS location of Clay’s satellite phone.  From there a thin line plotted the rest of his course to the small hospital.

“Beijing was the last big city, so at your current speed you should reach it in three hours and thirty-nine minutes.  Give or take.”

“How much detail can you see?”

“A fair amount.  But without a live feed, it’s based on still shots from the last couple days.  Very little activity.  I only see a few old cars going in and out.  It’s located in a pretty dense area of forest with an elevation of 4,500 feet.  The south and east sides look like they fall off a couple hundred feet from there, so the road winds in from the southwest. There’s not much around it.”

“How big is the place?”

“Not very.  Some of the building is obscured by the trees, but I’m guessing maybe three or four thousand square feet.”

“Then if she’s there, she won’t be hard to find.”

“True,” Borger smiled.  “Stay on G111 until you get to 351.  From there head northwest.”  He repeated the coordinates.  “I can’t tell what it looks like from ground level.  It may be easy to miss.”

“Thanks.  Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.  I’m going to work on finding an exit for you.  I also need to check in with Caesare.  They’re getting close.  In the meantime, get some sleep.”

Clay smiled and pushed himself against the back of the passenger seat, trying to stretch his legs.  It took over two hours from Beijing for the smog to finally lighten, but the setting sun was still shrouded in a thicker than normal orange hue.

Finding the hospital in the dark might prove difficult.  At least it would make things easier getting back out.  Neither he nor Tang knew what they would find, but getting the case was the priority.  Unless Wei had indeed injected his daughter, which changed things considerably.  Sneaking the case out was one thing –– having to bring a young woman out with them was quite another.  Especially depending on her level of cooperation.

***

Across the Pacific Ocean, Steve Caesare pressed the phone tighter against his ear.  “Say again, Will!”

Borger raised his voice.  “I said you’re ahead of Otero.  But not by much.  They've passed Silpaliwini and are on their way up the Acarai Mountains now.  Still about a day away but you’re going to have to hurry.”

“Hurry?” Caesare called back.  “I hadn’t considered that.”

“How long until you’re on the ground?”

He looked at DeeAnn and Juan, who were both watching him.  “Probably a little over an hour.”

“Okay, call me back when you’re down.  I should have-”

Borger stopped in mid-sentence with his eyes frozen on the screen in front of him.  Around the edge of his largest monitor, a thin red border appeared and began flashing.  His heart almost stopped.  He slowly turned and peered at the other monitors.  They were doing the same.  Everything was flashing.

“What was that?” Caesare’s voice sounded through the phone’s speaker.

Borger didn’t answer.  Instead his hand slid up and over the phone until it found the button on top, where he powered it off without a word.

His screen continued flashing and another window appeared, also in red, displaying a live streaming column of computer code.  He recognized it immediately.

It was a program he had written himself.  It was an aggregator, not of data, but of threats.  Borger was all too aware of the computer hacks occurring on a daily basis.  More importantly, he was familiar with the various computer worms released over the last several years.  Worms that weren’t written by some kid at home.  These attacks were written at the state level.  By governments, including the NSA.

Clay and Caesare’s teasing over Borger’s paranoia wasn’t a joke.  He was extremely paranoid.  He knew what could really be done using hidden computer code, and he wrote a custom program to detect it.

His program was an aggregator that collected digital signatures of the worst known worms and viruses.  And applied something called heuristic modeling to look for behaviors of those worms, even if he couldn’t find them directly on his hard drives.

Borger stopped the stream of scrolling data and studied the details.  The behavior didn’t look like a worm.  Instead, his program detected something “unusual” in his work patterns.  He traced the coded message to another file and then found it.  The color drained immediately from his face.

His computer microphone had been activated.  And it had been on for over twenty minutes before his program flagged it as unusual.

Borger quietly pushed himself away from his desk, sliding back in his chair.  Someone was in the system.  And someone just listened to everything he had said.

Borger burst out of the lab, heading directly for the stairs where he sprinted to the top.  He continued, running up another flight until he reached the next floor and an outside exit.  He pushed through the glass door and into an outdoor foyer before pulling his satellite phone back out and redialing.

“Clay!” he shouted between heavy breaths.  “We have a breach!”

“What?”

“A breach!  Someone is in the system!  And they just listened to our last conversation!”

“Are you sure?!”

“Yes, I’m sure.  And if they’re in my system, everything could be compromised!”

“What do you mean by everything?”

“I mean, everything.  Wei, the case, his daughter, the hospital.  Everything!”  Borger stopped in his tracks.  “Shit.  That means they probably know about you too.  And where you are!”

“Dammit!” Clay growled.  “Who is it?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe the Chinese.  They might have found out I was poking around their systems.  So, whatever they didn’t know before, they probably know now.  And if they do, they might also know where you’re headed.  Hurry!”

Clay shot a look at Tang.  “Step on it!”

Tang grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and mashed the accelerator down.  The Honda’s small engine immediately surged and began picking up speed.

“Find out who it is!”

“I will.”  As Borger turned back toward the door, he suddenly had an idea.  He immediately rushed back down the stairs as fast as he’d come up.

If someone was listening…maybe they were still listening.

44

The expression on M0ngol’s face did not change when he heard Borger rush back into his lab.  Nor was he fooled with the man’s attempted misdirection.  He listened with a slight smile as Borger pretended to be on the phone again, giving different information.  It was quick thinking, but something M0ngol was half expecting once the man realized he was being bugged with his own system.

M0ngol had hoped it would take longer to detect his presence.  Previous targets had taken days or even weeks to detect the hack, which indicated just how careful this man Will Borger was.  The dearth of data M0ngol had to piece together in order to tunnel back showed Borger to be extremely savvy.  The man was not to be underestimated.

Of course, if he were smart, Will Borger would immediately power down his entire system, which was exactly what it sounded like when the microphone on the other end promptly went dead.

He had been found out, but it didn’t matter.  M0ngol calmly reached for his phone and dialed Qin’s number.

“Go ahead.”

“How close are you to a computer?” M0ngol asked.

“Five minutes.”

“Good.  Let me know when you’re online.  I have something to show you.  And you’d better hurry.  We don’t have much time.”

He hung up the phone and began typing.  He brought up a large map of Beijing and zoomed in, looking for G111 highway.  He then switched screens and replayed the audio from Borger’s microphone, listening again to his conversation with someone named Clay.  M0ngol wrote down the coordinates, then looked up and typed them in.  The map on his screen jumped north, zeroing in on a small building which matched Borger’s description –– the hospital.

He then worked the distance back toward Beijing by three hours and thirty-nine minutes, giving him an estimate of Clay’s location.  Next he factored in a change in speed after hearing the car accelerate in the background.

M0ngol watched as his computer began calculating and answered his phone again when Qin called back.

“I’m on.”

“Is this your laptop?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on.  I’ll connect.”

A moment later, Qin watched as a map was displayed on his own screen.

“We found who broke into our systems.  It looks like we’re not the only ones looking for Wei’s daughter.  They think they know where she is.”

“Who?”

“A small group inside the U.S. Navy.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes.  They just severed our connection.”

Qin’s map jumped to an overhead satellite picture of Washington, D.C. –– with a prominent red icon identifying the Pentagon building.

Qin nodded.  “So, where is she?”

“They think she’s here.”  The map changed to an image of the small building surrounded by trees.  “And two of them are almost there.  They should arrive in just under three hours.”

“Zoom out.”

The picture shrank and Qin studied the map.  “Where are they right now?”

“I’m guessing about right here.”  Another icon appeared further south.

“You said three hours?”

“Maybe less.  They’re moving faster now.”

“Have you identified them?”

“Not yet.”

“Find out who they are and what they’re driving,” was all Qin said before hanging up.  After only a brief moment, he swiftly began scrolling through the address book on his phone, searching for a name.  Three hours might be enough time, given the right resources.

General Wei’s puzzle had just been solved.  It was all about his daughter.  Everything.  The man had fooled everyone and now, whatever was extracted from South America, Wei had hidden it away with his daughter.

The Americans may have figured it out first, but Qin now knew everything.  And he would beat them there.

Unfortunately, Qin didn’t yet know that there was still more to the puzzle.  And one of the missing pieces was presently scared out of her mind.

45

DeeAnn Draper wasn’t just scared.  She was also pissed.

She glared at Caesare with a combination of fear and anger while Anderson stood behind her, cinching two nylon straps in place.  The harness was composed of two thick straps running between her legs and up the back side, with two more crossing around and fastening tightly over her chest.

The area below the center plate of her harness left barely enough room for the IMIS vest.  It remained on while both Juan and Dulce went through the same ordeal.  Anderson cinched hard one more time, causing her body to stumble forward.  DeeAnn caught herself against the bare interior wall of the plane.

How dare he, she fumed.  How dare he hide this from her.  From both of them!  This wasn’t some joke.  These were their lives Caesare was gambling with.  She knew what was involved.  There was no reason for him not to tell her.  She still would have done it.

Glowering, DeeAnn looked around the cabin.  The powerful rushing wind blowing through it filled her with a sense of reality and dread that she couldn’t shake.  Okay.  She was pretty sure she still would have done it.

Dulce, bound in her own smaller harness, said something that couldn’t be heard above the howling from the airplane’s open door.  She seemed to let it go and gazed up as Caesare placed a child’s helmet on her head, fastening it in place.  The helmet sat awkwardly atop Dulce’s cone-shaped scalp and she examined the top of it with her long fingers.  It wasn’t until the goggles were secured that DeeAnn almost laughed out loud.  With two enlarged eyes peering through her goggles, the small gorilla resembled something right out of a cartoon.

Even through her anger, DeeAnn marveled at how calm Dulce seemed to be in the presence of Caesare –– a man she clearly had a strong connection to.  She watched as Caesare picked Dulce up in his powerful arms and moved to the other side of the cabin.  He made eye contact with Corso and Tiewater, who already had their chutes on, then motioned to the small crates and held up three fingers.

Both men nodded and began detaching the straps that secured them to the wall.

Oh God, she thought.  Three minutes!  DeeAnn could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate.  She didn’t know if she could go through with this.  From the look in Juan’s eyes next to her, he was having the same thought.

She had been hoping that somehow they wouldn’t have to jump.  That something would change.  Maybe Joe would call back from the cockpit that they had to postpone it because of a mechanical problem or bad weather.  She couldn’t believe she was hoping for bad weather in a plane!

The last couple of hours had actually been smoother than expected.  A break in the storm gave them a surprisingly clear flight and calm conditions.  Now, she found herself perversely wishing for the opposite.

She stared nervously at Caesare and raised her voice.  “I don’t know if I can do this!”

She jumped back when Corso and Tiewater pulled one of the crates free, sliding it between them, toward the back of the plane.

“You’ll do fine,” Caesare replied loudly.  “We’re at a low altitude.  We’ll be on the ground before you know it.”

“It’s not the landing I’m afraid of.  It’s the part about leaving the plane!”

He examined her calmly. “Are you afraid of heights?”

“I am right now!”

Caesare looked at Juan.  “Juan?”

Juan glanced at DeeAnn before replying.  “I’m pretty freaked out too.”

All he could do was nod.  He understood their fear.  Their inexperienced minds racing through all the things that could go wrong.  But there wasn’t anything he could do about it.  At least not at the moment.  The best he could do for them was to make the experience as short as possible.  They could yell at him later when they were on the ground.

He looked at his watch and held up two fingers to his men.

DeeAnn couldn’t believe how quickly those two minutes passed.  The men had moved all three boxes to the door and unbundled the large parachutes on top.  Suddenly, they all nodded to Caesare at once and pushed the first one out into the howling wind.  They quickly followed with the next two, getting them all out within a matter of seconds from each other.  She watched as Corso and Tiewater stepped back, and Caesare then made his way to the cockpit.

He slapped Joe on the shoulder and shouted something to him.  Less than a minute later, DeeAnn grabbed one of the straps on the wall as the plane began to bank to the right.

“Okay.  Here we go.”

It seemed to happen in a blur.  Tiewater and Anderson moved behind them and began attaching her and Juan’s harnesses to their own.  They pulled them in tight to ensure they were secure.  Together, they pushed the two forward, with each pair shuffling awkwardly toward the door.

Behind them, Caesare fastened Dulce to his own harness, facing inward toward his chest.  Her dark legs dangled in the air as he shuffled and joined them at the door.

Corso stood on the other side, ready to help them out.  Through his goggles, he stared down at his watch.  He held up one finger to the men and they nodded.

In a fog, DeeAnn yelled to Corso.  “Why aren’t you attached to anyone?”

“It would exceed the weight limit of the chute.”

Her eyes shot open.  “There’s a weight limit?!”

Corso ignored her and motioned to the men.  Tiewater and Anderson both reached around, folding DeeAnn and Juan’s arms in across their chests.

Behind them, Caesare smiled into Dulce’s trusting eyes and whispered into her left ear.  “This time like a bird.”

DeeAnn’s heart nearly froze as she peered straight out the door at the blue sky with green treetops far below.  The last clear image she saw was Anderson’s hands reaching past her and gripping each side of the door, followed by a hard push.

OH…MY…GOD!

46

A minute later, Joe leaned out from his cockpit seat and looked back through the cabin.

Everyone was out.

He banked into a hard left turn, giving him a clear view of the ground below, and counted parachutes.  Satisfied, he gradually leveled the DC-3 and headed back the way they came.

He was surprised to find signs of the storm still visible on the horizon.  At that distance, he shouldn’t have seen anything.  He didn’t know yet that the storm had once again turned east toward him.

It took less than an hour to realize how much trouble he was in.  With nowhere to land before the Peruvian border, he was left with just one very bad option.

He would not make it back.

Two hours later, Joe Marcionek, a sixty-three-year-old ex-Army pilot who had helped thousands of suffering souls by flying in the face of political tyrants…would reach his final twilight.

His last moments would be a fight to the very end, and without a single regret.

47

Echo Pier was located in San Juan, Puerto Rico.  It served as the primary base of operations for all United States Coast Guard activity in the eastern Caribbean Sea.

Overlooking the Bahía de San Juan, the “Sector,” as it was officially known, was the region’s only Search and Rescue station. It was also the nearest marine dock both secure and large enough to accommodate most of the U.S. Navy’s larger ships.

The six shore units included management of two of the nation’s busiest ports and the protection of over 1.3 million square miles of open ocean.  However, at that moment, the station’s commanding officer had his full attention glued to the window.  Captain F. D. Arthur watched the arrival at Echo Pier with a touch of anxiety, particularly after receiving a call directly from Admiral Langford only hours before.

The gleaming white hull of the arriving ship was known well at the Sector, serving as not just one of the Atlantic’s primary research vessels, but perhaps its most distinguished –– the U.S.S. Pathfinder.

Captain Emerson stood on the ship’s bridge, stoically.  He watched as it eased alongside the giant dock, its huge rubber fenders shrieking against the concrete pillars.   Heavy mooring lines were lowered to where they were tied around bollards large enough for children to climb on.  The dock’s twelve-foot fenders gave up their final protest, permanently coming to rest, pressed against the Pathfinder’s thick steel hull.

Emerson heard the Pathfinder’s diesel engines disengage and nodded to his first officer, Harris.  Emerson then crossed the small room and opened the metal and glass door, stepping out into the warm sun.  He continued along a lightly painted gangway until he reached the end and then descended a ladder to the ship’s main deck.

Emerson continued down two more levels before continuing aft.  When he reached the stern, he stopped to observe the flurry of activity.

Two of the ship’s winches had been removed by his crew, making just enough room on the platform for a twenty-thousand-gallon water tank.  This one larger than they’d built before…and for good reason.

***

Lee Kenwood briefly held up a finger over his shoulder before returning it to the keyboard and resuming his typing.

“Not yet.”

“It’s time, Lee.”

“I know, I know.  I just need to finish this one module.”  He continued typing hastily for another minute before stopping to double-check his work.  When he was sure, he saved the window and clicked another button to begin compiling.  He pushed himself away from the desk, rolling backwards and twirling his chair to face an impatient Alison.

“Done?”

“For the moment,” he nodded.  “Enough to get things started.  The rest I can do en route.”

“Good.  Because we’re about to be late.”

“Sorry.”  Kenwood leapt from his chair and stuffed his laptop into a backpack.  “But believe me, that was something you definitely wanted me to do.”  He then trotted to a wide cart holding several pieces of hardware.  “Locked and loaded.”

Alison examined the computers stacked neatly on the cart, along with two large plastic containers packed with more equipment and peripherals.

“Fine.  What were you working on?”

“I made some progress on that problem we had last time with IMIS getting confused with too many translations happening all at once.  I identified the acoustical signatures for Dirk and Sally and am trying to create a filter based on those.  It should help us single them out from other dolphin exchanges.”

“That’s great, Lee.”

He shrugged.  “We shouldn’t get too excited yet.  It’s probably going to take quite a bit of tweaking.”

That thought worried Alison.  They were going to need to make it work sooner than that.  But instead, she just nodded at his cart.  “Are you sure you have everything?”

“Yep.”  He patted one of the servers affectionately.  “Redundant servers and as much data as they can hold.  More powerful too.”

“Good.”  She stepped in front of Lee as he began to move, reaching the door first and holding it open for him.  Together, they wheeled their way to the elevator.

“Is Kelly here yet?”

“Yes.  She and Chris are waiting at the dock.  Everything else is packed.”

The elevator door opened and Lee rolled the cart inside, followed by Alison, who pressed the button for the bottom floor.

“So, about this audio signature thing.”  There was a slight bounce as the elevator began to move.  “How much tweaking do you think it will take?”

“I’m not sure.  I’ve never done it before.  Probably a lot, but we can start on the way.”

Alison nodded.  They didn’t have a lot of choice.  They were in a rush, but she was worried about the trip for another reason.  This wasn’t like their last trip where Dirk and Sally traveled alongside their small boat.  That was much slower, but they had the luxury of multiple days, which made the arrangement possible.

This time, they were transporting the dolphins in order to get there faster.  Something they had done only once before.  On the same ship, as a matter of fact, but it was over a much shorter distance.  This time, they were headed to Trinidad, which would take just over eight hours.  The tank would be bigger, but still a very tight fit for two dolphins.  And there was a finite amount of time they could remain in such a confined space with certain “needs.”  It was also why they were swimming alongside them now to reach the Pathfinder in San Juan.  It wasn’t something most people thought about, but Alison knew that without a bathroom break beforehand, they would soon have a natural problem on their hands.

The elevator reached the lower floor and opened again, where Alison and Lee wheeled out through one of the building’s side exits, into the warm morning sun.  A strong wind blew against them when they rounded the corner of the building.  Upon reaching the wooden ramp, Lee stepped around and guided the cart down slowly from the front.

Kelly Carlson ducked her blonde head out from the boat’s small cockpit when she heard the thumping over the uneven planks of the ramp.  She’d been in Palmas Del Mar overseeing the purchase of another boat and the subsequent repair of its port-side engine.  It still wasn’t perfect, but they weren’t going far, and she’d remain behind to continue the work.

She called Chris out of the salon to help Lee load the servers onboard and secure them for what was shaping up to be a short but somewhat exciting ride, given the morning chop.

Near the stern, Neely Lawton had already boarded.  She was waiting, quietly staring out over the water.  She didn’t appear anxious or excited.  Instead, it was one of apprehension, knowing they were headed back to a place not far from where her father had just died.  A place where he gave his own life to save them all.

That they were going back to the same area, and for the very same reason, was more than a little sobering.

A few hours later, Captain Emerson had an equally concerning thought.  He didn’t know exactly what they were after, but given the close proximity to where the Bowditch was lost, it wasn’t exactly a stretch to suspect a relationship.  And like the Coast Guard’s Base Commander, his orders too had come directly from Admiral Langford, which was unusual.  It made Emerson wonder just how many others were aware of their new “mission.”

“They’re here, sir,” Harris said, sticking his head inside.

Emerson stepped back outside through the bridge door and joined his first officer at the railing.   Harris handed him the binoculars and pointed out past the pier.

He spotted the Teknicraft aluminum-hulled catamaran heading directly toward them and recognized Chris Ramirez standing outside the pilothouse at one of the forward railings.  He couldn’t make out anyone else except the two dolphins swimming next to them, occasionally jumping between the swells.

He returned inside and grabbed the handset, raising it to his ear.  When his head engineer Tay answered on the other end, he asked the same question he’d asked less than a half hour earlier.

“How close?”

From the Pathfinder’s stern, Tay nodded confidently.  “We’re ready, Captain.  We’re done reinforcing the tank and it’s filling now.  I’d say ten minutes.”

“Excellent.  We’ll need to transfer them as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”  Behind Tay, the heavy, fabric sling swayed slowly in the breeze.  “We’re all ready for that too.”

“Well done.  Let us know when everyone’s aboard.”

“I will, sir.”

Emerson hung up and placed the handset back in its cradle in front of his communications officer.  He returned outside and peered back out over the water, this time handing the binoculars back to Harris.

“Any idea behind the urgency, sir?”

“Nope.”

Alison and Chris watched impatiently from the side of the metal tank while the tall orange winch moved Dirk smoothly across the open deck, lowering him into the tank beside Sally.  After some difficulty unwrapping the sling, Tay’s team double-checked the integrity of the tank before giving a thumbs-up.

Behind them, Kelly squeezed Alison’s shoulders.  “That’s my cue.”  She winked at Chris.  “You sure you have everything before I untie?”

Chris nodded, hiding his disappointment.  “I think so.”  He started to add something to keep the conversation with Kelly going but didn’t know what else to say, without it sounding corny.  Instead, he tried to stand there and appear cool while she hugged Alison.

“Drop me a postcard.”

Alison laughed.  “Sure.  I’ll put it in a bottle.”

Kelly turned and headed for the gangplank.  “I’ll be watching the store, so let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Kel.  Will do.”

Alison’s eyes wasted no time.  She turned to Tay, who was already on the phone confirming that they were ready.

The rest of the crew had begun pulling in the Pathfinder’s giant lines from the dock when Captain Emerson appeared above and promptly descended the ladder.

He raised his voice over the ship’s engines as they rumbled to life.  “Dr. Shaw.  It’s nice to see you again.”

Alison shook his extended hand.  “Thank you, Captain.  I guess this makes adventure number three.”

He smiled.  “I suggest we don’t count the first two.”

Alison couldn’t agree more.  The first time she and the team had to be evacuated from the Pathfinder by the Coast Guard.  The second trip ended with the terrible fate of the Bowditch.  As Steve Caesare once said, they weren’t exactly batting a thousand.

Emerson turned to Chris.  “Mr. Ramirez.”

“Hello again, Captain.”

After looking at the dolphins, Emerson said, “Are we all set here?  I understand we’re on a tight schedule.”

“Yes, I think we’re ready when you are.”

“Very good.  I’m afraid we have some larger swells than usual, so for safety reasons I’ll need to ask you both to remain above on the main deck.  You should still be able to keep an eye on your friends from there.”

Alison followed the captain’s gaze up one flight.  “That’s fine.  Can we remain outside?”

Emerson nodded.  “Of course.  The wind is quite strong, but no one freezes in the Caribbean.  Mr. Kenwood is setting up his equipment upstairs.”  He looked around the stern.  “I presume Commander Lawton has already reported upstairs.”

“Yes.  She headed up as soon as we arrived.”

“Very good.  If you’ll follow me.”

They both fell in behind the captain and climbed up a white ladder, painted to match the hull.  When they reached the next level, Emerson turned to face them before continuing.  “I’ll let Mr. Kenwood know where you are.  Is there anything else we can provide for you?”

“Thank you, I don’t think so.”

He nodded again.  “Hold on tight.”

After he had departed, Alison turned to Chris.  “You ready?”

He took a deep breath and wrapped his grip around the metal railing.  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  I just never thought I would be back on this ship again so soon.”

“Me either.”

Chris looked down at Dirk and Sally, relaxed and moving slowly inside the tank.  “Things are getting a little crazy, huh?”

“You could say that again.”

“Kind of…scary crazy.”

Alison looked at him curiously.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.  Everything just seems to be happening awfully fast.  The things we’re learning are way beyond what we ever expected.”

“It’s true.  But if we’re right about these plants…”

“I’m not talking about the plants, Ali.  I’m talking about,” he paused, shaking his head, “all of it.  IMIS, the translations, Dirk, and Sally.  We never dreamed of finding this much.  Humans went for so long thinking dolphins were just smart mammals.  A step above pets really.  Now we find out they have culture, heritage, a history of their own.”

Chris sighed.  “It makes me think about how much history we humans have been ignoring, all around us.  Every species has a history.  A heritage.  History isn’t just what’s happened or where we’ve been, Alison.  History is about our place in the world.”

Chris paused, trying to figure out how to put his feelings into words.  “I guess what I’m saying is that it’s all kinda scary.  It’s scary to find out how much exists around us that we’ve just been oblivious to.  Or maybe apathetic.  It also makes me wonder just how much more Dirk and Sally know.”

“We’re finding out.”

“We are.  But it kind of feels like we’re stumbling backwards into all of it, doesn’t it?”

Alison considered his question.  “It does.”

“It started out as exciting, but now it’s beginning to feel a little eerie.  Do you remember that video we saw on the internet?  The one with that dive team who was approached by a bottlenose?”

“The one caught in the line?”

“Right.  It was caught in a fishing line and had a hook stuck in one of its flippers.”

“Of course I remember.  It was amazing.”

“It was, right?  I saw that again the other day and if you watch the video carefully, there are so many things that indicate a much deeper level of consciousness.  How slowly it matched the diver’s movements.  How close the dolphin was to him, like they were bound to each other.  It worked together with him to get the hook out and the line removed.  For those few minutes, they were partners.  They just knew what the other was trying to do.”  Chris shrugged.  “Anyone can see it if they look close enough.  It doesn’t take someone like us to show the world there’s a lot more there than we think.”

Alison grinned.  “And that scares you?”

“No, not that.  It’s how fast it’s all happening.  How fast our world is changing.  Just look at how fast IMIS is translating now.  There’s a lot happening in this world that we don’t know about and it feels like it’s exploding.”

He shook his head.  “And the world doesn’t seem to do well with explosions in anything.  What happens to us, Ali?  What happens to all of us when the world realizes how deep this goes? It’s like discovering extraterrestrials.  Realizing that we really aren’t alone in the universe.  Hell, we’re not even alone on the planet.  We never were.  And IMIS is the catalyst for it all.”

She looked back down at Dirk and Sally, thinking.  “I know what you mean.  It wasn’t too long ago that I thought the truth was more important than anything.  That all the politics — all the cover-ups and deceit — would right themselves if there was enough truth.  But now I’m not so sure.  I’m beginning to think that truth, for all its virtue…is dangerous.  For us and for them.”

Chris nodded.  “I think people can only absorb so much change at once.  And as a society, probably even less.”

“Maybe you’re right.”  Alison’s eyes glanced back to the shore where she watched Echo Pier receding behind them.  “It’s ironic, isn’t it?  We tell stories and even make movies about how great a different future would be.  But we rarely think about all the consequences.”  Her eyes remained fixed on the horizon.  “Remember when we first started this project?  Remember all the research we did…and some of those crazy stories?”

“How could I forget?”

“Maybe some of them weren’t so crazy.”

Chris frowned.  “Ali, some of those people claimed dolphins could shapeshift into mermaids.”

“I’m not talking about those.  I’m talking about some of the others.”

“You mean the ones about healing.”

“Right.  Some of those people claimed they were healed after touching dolphins.”

What was left of Chris’s grin abruptly faded.

“Maybe some of those people weren’t crazy, Chris.  Maybe they can heal.  If not directly then maybe indirectly.”  Alison took a deep breath and turned around, leaning against the rail.  “Now, thinking about what you just said, I think you may be more right than you know.  Society doesn’t deal with change as well as we all think.  At least not sudden change.”  She looked up into Chris’s eyes.  “What do you think would happen if people found out they can heal?  What do you think happens to dolphins then?”

Chris sighed.  “Elephant tusks come to mind.”

“And shark cartilage.  And that doesn’t even work.”

He folded his arms.  “People would go crazy.  When millions of those people think they can be healed from disease by getting a hold of a dolphin.”

“Especially if it’s true.”

“Exactly.”

“And then there’s the plants.  If they really are like what John recovered in Guyana, how in the world do you keep that secret?”  She paused, thinking about John, and something he’d said just a few weeks earlier: beware the leap.

“Explosions,” Chris said.

“Okay, you’re right,” she said in a lowered voice.  “This is getting scary.”

“And we’re right in the middle of it.”  He watched Alison become quiet and decided to change the subject.  “Anyway, now that you’re sorry you asked…how’s everything else?  How’s John?”

“I don’t know.”  She shook her head.  “I haven’t talked to him in a few days.”  She tried to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal.  Just another routine mission that didn’t allow him to make calls.  He’d said as much when they last talked.  But something didn’t feel right.  Something felt very wrong and she didn’t know why.

48

John Clay was also feeling worried, at the lights he and Tang were now seeing in the distance, above the trees.

Helicopters.

But these helicopters were not just searching.  These were bigger…and they were landing.

Apparently it was decided that stopping everyone was better than trying to find them from the air.  Borger was right.  Someone knew.

The lights from the two large choppers descended and disappeared behind a dense patch of trees, leaving only a faint glow overhead to indicate anything was waiting on the other side.

As Tang rounded a slight curve, both men could see three sets of brake lights shining brightly from the cars ahead.

“This isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not.”  Clay looked at the map on his phone again.  They were less than seven miles away.  Damn close.  He immediately reached into the back and grabbed his bag.

The road straightened, allowing them to see the first set of headlights shining at them.  The bright white lights flashed off momentarily before resuming, indicating something had just passed in front of the distant vehicle.

“Someone’s approaching on foot.”

“Slow down.”  Clay shoved the satellite phone back into a side pocket and lifted the heavy bag onto his lap.  “They’ll see us if we stop.”  He then reached up and turned off the interior lamp.

“What are you going to do, jump?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, let me get closer.”  Tang continued to slow the vehicle smoothly and drifted toward the edge of the road.  They were now within a quarter mile of the blockade.  Up ahead, flashlights appeared next to the first stopped car.

“Keep your brights on until you get my door closed again.”

Tang nodded.  “Say when.”

Clay quickly checked his feet and legs to make sure they were clear, then found the handles of his bag and cinched them together.  “Go!”

As soon as Tang turned on the car’s bright lights, Clay opened his door.  In a split second, he jumped into the darkness and disappeared while Tang swiftly leaned over, fumbling for the door.  His fingertips found a corner of the handle and pulled it shut, careful not to slam it.  At an eighth of a mile, he turned the brights off and continued slowing behind the car in front of him.

Tang fought his instinct to look back for Clay in the mirror just as one of the powerful flashlights moved further out into the road and shone directly into his windshield.  The beam remained on him as he coasted in, behind the others, where he counted five soldiers on the road.  Two were holding flashlights with two more gripping QBZ-95 assault rifles tightly in their hands.  The fifth and closest soldier, with a flashlight already trained on Tang, turned back down the road as another car appeared in the distance.

Tang could see the men were not in the mood for pleasantries.

“Where are you going?” a voice barked from behind a flashlight.

Tang feigned confusion and held up his hand to block the bright light.  From what he could see, the man looked to be in his early twenties which probably meant he was inexperienced and hopefully unprepared for a driver taking the offensive.

“What is this?  What’s happening?”  He kept his voice loud in an effort to mask any noise from the trees.

The soldier’s pause behind the flashlight was brief.  More brief than Tang had been hoping for.

The man staring down at him was not a rookie.  Instead, he peered at Tang with a look of bemusement.  Without a word, he checked the empty passenger’s seat.

“Where are you going?” he asked again, sternly.

Tang didn’t take his eyes off him, even while a second flashlight appeared and began searching the rest of his car.

“I’m going to visit a friend.”  He remained calm, knowing that without the bag in the back seat their flashlights wouldn’t find anything…unless they opened the trunk.

“And where is your friend?”

Tang paused.  His mind was racing, trying desperately to retrieve one of the towns Clay had mentioned.

“Dadonggou.”

The soldier’s mannerism did not change.  He continued studying Tang and extended his hand.  “Identification.”

“What is the meaning of this?” he tried again.

“It’s a security check.”

“There has never been a check here before.”

“How many times have you visited your friend?”

“Many times.  And there is no trouble in this xian.”

“That’s right.  And we are here to ensure it remains without trouble.” The soldier nodded, examining Tang’s ID.   “You are a long way from Guangzhou.”

***

Clay slid to a stop at the bottom of a steep bank.  Much steeper than he was expecting, causing him to lose control and slide into a small creek with a splash.

He quickly jumped to his feet and scrambled behind a nearby tree trunk.  He waited for flashlights to appear over the edge of the road, but seeing none, Clay dropped his bag on the damp earth in front of him.

Unzipping the bag, he pulled out a set of night-vision goggles and slid them over his thick dark hair.  Next he retrieved a black matted .40 caliber and pushed it into the waistband of his pants before swinging the bag onto his shoulders again.

He moved smoothly through the thick layer of needles and leaves, winding away from the road above him.  Once beyond the glow of lights and the muffled voices, Clay broke into a sprint.

49

Qin peered out from the small window of the Harbin Z-6 helicopter into the near pitch-blackness below.  There were now only occasional lights visible from the air, which gave the darkened interior of the cabin an eerie feeling.  Only the thumping of the blades and the cockpit’s instruments were left to remind him that they were moving.

The last three hours had unleashed a frenzy of activity.  Once M0ngol had zeroed in on the American’s location, time was of the essence.  They had to stop him before he reached the hospital.

The mobilization took less than thirty minutes, but it still required time to travel the several hundred kilometers.  Fortunately for Qin, there was a small team of Special Operations Forces on return from maneuvers at the base of China’s Guangxing Reservoir, close enough to intercept the American before he could.

Qin checked his watch impatiently.  He hated having to call Xinzhen, but he had no other choice.  He needed transportation immediately…and men. And being a member of the Politburo, Xinzhen had as much authority as anyone within China.  A level of authority that had a fully equipped Z-6 helicopter landing in the parking lot of the MSS building a mere half hour later.

But now Xinzhen knew.  Not everything, but enough to know what Wei had done and what was likely hidden in a small building in the middle of nowhere.  Qin didn’t mention it was a hospital, nor that it was where he believed Wei’s daughter to be a patient.  He’d been at the MSS long enough to learn that investigators never revealed everything, even to the Politburo.

Especially since he now possessed information Xinzhen would kill over.  He already had.  And Qin was now walking a thin line between a being an asset to someone like Xinzhen and being a liability.

He glanced up when the helicopter’s copilot waved to get his attention and pointed to his headphones.

Qin nodded and glanced at the two men sitting next to him. Xinzhen’s men, both of whom were already aboard the chopper when it arrived at MSS.

Together the men watched him stoically without saying a word.

Qin raised the headphones and lowered them over his ears before adjusting the microphone.

“This is Qin.”

“Sir, we’ve stopped twelve cars.  But no American yet.”

Qin’s eyes narrowed.  They should have been there by now.  “Any gweilo at all?”

“No, mostly locals. But two are from Beijing and another from Guangzhou.”

“What kind of cars are they driving?”

The soldiers on the ground paused.  “Several Hyundai, GM, Nissan.  And a Honda.”

Qin remained, thinking, staring into the darkness with his coal-colored eyes.  The man would have had to come in quietly.  Unnoticed.  And he’d need help to get here quickly.  Which also meant help blending in.

But in China, cars were not used for blending in.  Instead, they were about status and prestige.  Something that was especially true in Beijing.  Cars were meant to be noticed, not overlooked.

“How old?”

“Hold old are the drivers?”

“No.  The cars.”

The soldier on the ground turned and assessed the cars.  “Most are new.  Within a few years.  The Honda is old.  Ten, maybe fifteen years.”

“Who was the driver?”

“A security guard.  From Guangzhou.  Says he’s visiting a friend.”

“From Guangzhou?”

“Yes.”

Guangzhou was too far, Qin thought.  Almost anyone traveling that far would have taken a plane over paying for two thousand miles worth of gasoline.  Especially a lowly guard.

“Where does he work?”

“Ministry of Foreign Relations.”

Qin’s eyes widened.  His response was instant.  “He’s a spy.  Subdue him!”

“Subdue him?”

“Yes!  Now!”

Qin leaned forward urgently and slapped the copilot on the shoulder to get his attention.  When the man turned around, Qin motioned forcefully toward the windshield.  The message was clear: hurry!

On the ground, Tang was standing nearby, watching the soldier.  He couldn’t hear what was said on the phone, but the sudden change in the man’s expression was enough.

50

With his computer now secure, Borger was watching from his chair.  The icon representing Clay’s phone had suddenly jumped off the road and was now moving very slowly.

Another screen displayed the latest overhead shot from the satellite.  He typed in the coordinates, which quickly zoomed the picture in.  Most of the image was completely dark, except for two items.

Borger picked up his phone and dialed.

Clay was struggling up an embankment when the phone rang in his pocket.  He pulled it out and answered without stopping.

“Not a good time, Will.”

“Clay!” Borger shouted.  “You okay?”

He rolled his eyes inside the green-tinted goggles.  “That’s debatable.”

“I see lights coming in from the northeast.  I think they’re helicopters.”

“You’re a little late,” Clay replied, between breaths.  He spotted a narrow path through the trees and plowed through several large bushes to reach it, where he broke into a run again.

Borger zoomed out and examined a third light on the image.  This one was further away and headed due north.  “I have another one coming in.”

“How far?!” Clay shouted into the phone, still pumping his other arm.

“Twenty minutes.  Maybe less.”

“Dammit!”  Clay hung up and dug in, lowering his head.  He bolted ahead with everything he had.

51

Li Na Wei opened her eyes and watched as the dark room sharpened around her bed.  Her eyesight was as good as it had ever been, and she glanced around from item to item, scarcely recognizable beyond the soft lime-green glow of her heart rate monitor.  The old machine’s rhythmic beep matching itself to the beating of her heart.

It was all she could hear, but something had awakened her.  She scanned and listened…waiting.  But there was nothing else.

She hadn’t been able to sleep much since finding out about her father.  It all felt so surreal.  A loneliness she had never felt before wrapped in the disbelief that it was really happening.  Yet each time she awoke, no matter how long she had slept, her situation felt increasingly real.

This time, though, something was different.  No pain.  No chills. This time, it was a feeling.  A sick, almost nauseous feeling crawling its way up her chest.

It was the feeling of danger.

She heard it before Dr. Lee, who had just bolted upright in his small cot.  The storage room was almost bare, leaving plenty of room for the folding bed, where Lee had slept since Li Na regained consciousness.  Now sitting alert on the flimsily-sheeted mattress, he listened carefully to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.  That it wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t.  The distant sound came again, louder.  The sound of an approaching helicopter.

“Li Na!”  He jumped to his feet and ran through the open door, stumbling into a rolling bed parked against the wall.  He pushed it hard out of the way, knocking it into the opposite wall and toppling two unused IV stands.  Finally past, Lee raced toward the room at the far end of the hall.

“Li Na!”

The teenage girl was already out of her bed.  She turned from the window when she heard the doctor shouting.  She was still dressed in her thin, light-blue gown.

Lee’s footsteps could be heard approaching.  When he finally burst into her room, his eyes focused on Li Na’s shadowy figure just a few feet away and grabbed her arm.  “Someone’s coming!”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.  Perhaps the people your father feared!”

“Are you sure?”

He paused, listening again.  It was much closer.  “Helicopters don’t come here.”  He ran to the small cupboard and threw the doors open.  Grabbing her clothes, he pushed them into her arms in a panic.  “Get dressed.  Quickly!”

Li Na needed no convincing.  The sickening feeling in her chest was still there, and growing stronger.  She fumbled, separating her clothes and then slipping each foot into a pant leg.

Lee ran back to the door and looked back the way he came.  A blinding light swept over the small building, shining in through several windows as it passed overhead.  The sound of the aircraft’s rotors outside became deafening.

He darted across the hall, into the small kitchen, and raised the lid of a freezer resting against the far wall.  Inside, at the bottom, was Wei’s strange metal case.

Lee yanked it out and returned to the room.  He again pushed the case into her arms, this time grabbing one hand.  “Hurry!”

He led her back down the hallway and into the storage room, throwing his cot out of the way.  He yanked the small closet door open and pushed her inside, quickly closing it and pulling the cot back in place against the door.

***

No sooner had the Harbin touched down that one of Xinzhen’s men, sitting closest to Qin, yanked the door open.  The man then leapt from the helicopter with the blades still churning at full speed.  His boots hit the hard ground and he tore into a run toward the building.  The second man who followed was nearly as big and reached the wooden door just steps behind the first.

It was locked.

Neither bothered looking at Qin as he climbed out.  Instead, the second man stepped back and promptly withdrew a large pistol from inside his coat.  Without a word, he pointed it at the door and fired multiple rounds into the wooden door jam, shredding it.  When the door still didn’t move, he fired twice more.  This time, the left side of the heavy door slumped.  With one last powerful kick, it swung inward, dropping wooden splinters everywhere.

Inside, Lee ran from the storage room, barely reaching the front door before it burst open.

The first of Xinzhen’s men stepped through the doorway and growled.  “Where?”

“Who are you?”

“Where is she?!” he repeated.

When Lee didn’t answer, the large man stepped forward and slammed him hard against the wall.

“I-I don’t know,” Lee groaned, “who you’re talking about.”

Behind them, Qin’s voice was icy.  “Your patient.”

Sputtering, the doctor shook his head.  “I have several patients.”

“Wei’s daughter.  We know she’s here.”

The large man’s hand gripped Lee around the throat.

“I don’t know who that is.”

Qin grinned at him, sardonically.  “Oh, I think you do.”  He turned and examined the short hallway.  He motioned to the right.  The second of Xinzhen’s men nodded and stormed down the narrow corridor.

An elderly male patient appeared in one of the doorways with a walker.  Xinzhen’s man stopped in front of him, glancing briefly into his room before placing a hand on the old man’s chest and shoving him back inside.  The thug moved on, indifferent as the elderly patient toppled to the cold tile.

When he reached the next room, the agent found a bald woman with weak sunken eyes and cheeks lying frail in her bed.  Her tired eyes were clearly unable to comprehend what was happening.

It was the next room where he stopped and looked back down the hall at the others.

“This one’s empty.”  He looked back inside.  “But someone was here.”

Qin immediately stormed toward the room, along with Xinzhen’s first agent who still kept the doctor’s throat gripped tightly in his huge hand.

When Qin saw the bed and its blankets thrown off, he turned back to Lee.  “Who was in here?”

The man’s grip tightened when the doctor didn’t answer.

“Where is she?!”

From inside the small closet, Li Na tried to sense what was around her.  When she heard the gunshots, she froze.  Her father was right.  She checked the doorknob for a lock, but found it smooth and featureless.  She continued searching with her hands.

There were shelves on both sides, filled with things she didn’t recognize.  Some she did, like small cardboard boxes and sealed plastic bags with pieces of plastic inside.  Some were softer.  Probably bandages.

She stepped back and stumbled into a large object on the floor, slamming it loudly against the wall.  Tall, thin objects fell onto her as she scrambled to catch what she couldn’t see.  One of the missed items struck her in the forehead.

She cried out softly and rubbed her head.  What was the doctor thinking?  This was a terrible idea.  There was nowhere to go.  He must have thought he could convince them she wasn’t there.

But if he couldn’t, this was the worst possible place to be.

With a nervous hand, Li Na turned the knob and pushed, just enough to crack the door open.

She could see part of the bed, positioned against the door.  Against the other wall, a shelf held clear tubing, boxes of latex gloves, and linens.  After a moment, she leaned out and nervously peered around the closet door.

That’s when she heard the voices.

Qin was eyeing the doctor with anger.  He opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped when his eyes caught something behind them.  The rest of the hallway was clean.  Yet at the far end, two IV stands lay sprawled on the floor beneath a rolling bed that was turned at an odd angle.  On the other side of the bed, a dim light reflected out through the room’s doorway.

Qin’s eyes moved back to the doctor, who was now watching him nervously.  Without a word, Qin stepped around the agent who still held Lee and walked silently down the hall.  Unlike the first two rooms, the second two had patients who hadn’t woken up from the commotion.

When Qin reached the rolling bed, he pushed it carefully out of his path.  He stepped over the fallen equipment and drew his gun as he inched closer to the doorway.  He glanced back at the other men only briefly before stepping inside.

Qin scanned the room, noting the worn cot and small closet with an open door.  Inside the closet were stacks of cleaning supplies with several haphazardly placed brooms and mops.  On the floor, a plastic bucket lay on its side.

Qin examined the rest of the room.

What he was searching for was hiding less than a meter away, directly behind him.

52

Will Borger didn’t take his eyes off the screen. He watched with annoyance as the latest satellite image slowly came in, overlaying the old picture.  When the transfer finally finished, the lights he had been tracking were exactly where he was afraid they would be.

“Crap!”

He zoomed in as far as he could.  Even in the dark, the outline of the small building was recognizable, along with the helicopter parked less than a hundred feet away.

Borger grabbed his phone and dialed again.  There was no answer.  He turned to another screen and zoomed back in on Clay’s satellite phone.  It was still moving.

He was almost there.

***

Qin stood silently in the room, listening to the final whirring outside from the helicopter’s rotors.  He looked down at the small cot and studied the blankets.  They were messy.  The position of the rusted frame so near to the closet looked out of place.  Intentional.

He couldn’t hear Li Na’s breathing behind the door, not over the rotors or Xinzhen’s men continuing to shout at the doctor.  But he knew she was still here in the room.  He turned slowly with his raised gun and looked behind him.  There was only one other place to hide.

He reached out with his left hand and fingered the doorknob, pulling it decidedly away from the wall.

The door’s shadow moved with it, revealing the terrified young face of Li Na Wei standing against the wall.  Her dark hair was messy, with bangs stopping just short of her wide eyes.

The resemblance to her father was unmistakable.

“Well, well, well,” Qin breathed quietly.  “You are alive after all.”

He looked her up and down.  Her clothes were as disheveled as her hair.  “Where is it?”

She didn’t answer.

Qin lowered the gun slightly, pointing it at the girl’s midsection, and raised his voice over the noise from outside.

“Where is it?!”

Li Na stared at him, and in an act of unexpected defiance, shook her head from side to side.

Qin gazed at her coldly.  He didn’t have time for this.  He didn’t know where the American was, and on top of that, the fewer of Xinzhen’s men who knew, the better.  He stepped away and peered through the door, back down the hall.  “Bring him here.”

Li Na remained still, listening to the scuffle outside.  The doctor was abruptly thrown into the room where he stumbled to the far wall.  He turned and looked at Li Na apologetically before reluctantly facing Qin.

“Our young lady appears to have forgotten how to speak.  And I have very little time, so I’ll ask you once and once only.  Where…is…it?”

Lee glanced at all three men, careful not to look in the direction of the closet.  He knew it didn’t really matter where it was.  They’d find it eventually.  What mattered more was that Lee had monumentally failed both Li Na and her father.

He failed to heed her father’s warning as quickly as he should have.  He thought he had more time.  To help her.  To understand exactly how Wei had saved her.  And to prepare her.  But it was too late.  The man before him had an unmistakable look in his eyes.  He was going to kill them no matter what he said.  Of that, the doctor was sure.  Lee might buy Li Na a few minutes, but that was all.  And it wouldn’t be enough to matter.

There was nothing else he could do.  He stared at Qin’s gun pointed squarely at his chest.  His life was going to end there.  That morning.  In the tiny hospital that he had helped to build with his own hands.

Lee was surprised when a wave of emotion suddenly passed over him, squelching the fear.  It was the feeling of…satisfaction.  The satisfaction that if it had to happen here, there was no place more appropriate.  It was in this tiny hospital that with only the barest of resources, Lee had saved hundreds of lives.  And with the money General Wei had donated for helping his daughter, it would go on to save hundreds more.  Maybe thousands.

In the end, his life wasn’t any more important than those he’d cared for.  For those he had brought into the world and for those he had helped out.  It was simply-

The doctor’s last thought was cut short by an explosion from Qin’s gun.  The bullet ripped into his chest and through one of his ventricles.  He collapsed onto the floor and was dead within seconds.

Li Na screamed, horrified.  She watched helplessly as the life slowly faded from the doctor’s eyes.  She stumbled backward against the wall, beginning to hyperventilate.

With a sickening grin, Qin turned back around and faced her.

“I’m going to ask you one…more…time.”

A wave of terror welled up through her chest as Li Na tried desperately to speak through the shock.  But she couldn’t.  Her lips wouldn’t move.  She tried to say something.  Anything.

Suddenly, the second of Xinzhen’s men, who was guarding the door, appeared to take a clumsy step forward before collapsing in front of them with nothing but a blur visible behind him.  It was the blur of a rifle butt, now spinning in the air just as the larger of Xinzhen’s men drew his gun.

He was fast.  So fast that he managed to get off two rounds before a flash erupted from the end of the AK-47’s barrel now pointing into the room.  Three bullets hit him in the chest, sending the agent into the wall and then to the floor, where the pistol rattled from his limp hand.

The barrel of the rifle immediately swept across the room and stopped against the doorjamb, angled directly at Qin.

In a flash, Qin pulled the teenage girl in front of him.  He kept her between himself and the door before glancing back at Xinzhen’s men, lying still in front of him.

His eyes darted back to the barrel of the AK.  The American had arrived.

53

Out of breath and with his chest heaving, John Clay remained pressed against the doorjamb while peering over the top of the rifle, his aim locked in on Qin and Li Na.  Even with his sweating hands and throbbing legs, the rifle remained motionless, waiting for the slightest movement from Qin.

In response, Qin twisted and managed to slouch further behind the girl’s outline, leaving very little of his body exposed.  His eyes peered around her with a hidden smirk.

“Ah, the American.”

Clay’s stonelike expression didn’t change.  “In the flesh.”

“And who exactly might you be?”

“My name isn’t important.  Let her go.”

Qin paused, waiting to see if there was anyone else with the American.  Hearing nothing, he relaxed slightly but kept Li Na close.  “My name is Qin,” he said in nearly perfect English.

“Good for you.”

“And as you can see,” he said, gripping the girl’s arm tighter, “you’re too late.”

Clay frowned.  “Feels to me like I’m just in time.”

“No.” Qin shook his head.  “I have her now.  You don’t.”

Clay’s eyes glanced away, double-checking the room and the men on the floor.  They returned to Qin in an instant.  “You may have her, but there’s only one door.”

Qin nodded, then slowly raised his gun and pressed it against Li Na’s soft cheek.  “And there’s only one girl.”

“Maybe you’re not as smart as you look,” Clay said, still hidden behind the rifle.  “You obviously haven’t thought about what happens to you if you kill her.”

Defiantly, Qin wrapped his arm around Li Na’s waist and forced her sideways, shuffling them both to the middle of the room.  Exposing Clay in the doorway.

“The lapse in judgment is yours.  I have a shield.  You don’t.”

“I don’t need a shield.”

“Ah, there it is.  The American bravado.  Simple and shallow.”  Qin moved slightly behind Li Na, brushing his collar open with his chin and revealing a small microphone.  “This is Qin.  Our target is here at the hospital.  Move quickly.”

Well, that was a problem.  Clay thought to himself.  He remained steadfast, calculating how much time it would take the others to arrive.  Four, maybe five minutes.  Which meant he had less than two to get out and put any distance between them.

“When they take me, I’m going to take you first,” Clay responded calmly.

Qin stared at him for a long moment and Clay noticed a slight change in his expression.  Uncertainty.

The American was bluffing.  He wouldn’t sacrifice himself.  Or would he?  His mission was the girl.  Which meant he’d kill her before letting Qin have her.  It was exactly what Qin was prepared to do.  Now he had to stall until the other soldiers arrived.  But the American had the advantage: an exit.  He could kill both Qin and the girl and still escape.  It’s what Qin would do in his place.  But the man wasn’t moving.  How long would he wait before acting?

Clay’s eyes shifted to Li Na Wei, petrified and sickened at the feel of Qin’s breath on the back of her neck.  She stared helplessly back at Clay.

“Do you speak English?”

“A little.”

“He is going to kill you,” Clay said.  “No matter what you do.”

“Shut up!” hissed Qin.  “I just want the case.  Give it to me and you’re free.”

Li Na’s eyes turned, searching for Qin but unable to see him.

“When he gets the case,” Clay continued, “he will kill everyone here to keep it.  Beginning with you.  Your only chance to escape lies in the next sixty seconds.”

“SHUT UP!” Qin yelled.  He turned his gun on Clay, extending it over the girl’s shoulder.  “Tell me who you are or I will kill you right now.”

Clay studied the gun.  “You have a Norinco nine millimeter.  Even at this range you have very little chance of preventing me from shooting you.  Your bullet travels at thirteen-hundred-feet per second.  Mine travels twice as fast.  Which means a clean shot will pass straight through her and tear a giant hole through you.  And guess which one of you I’m going to try to save first?”

“Your name!” Qin seethed.

Clay’s grin was slight, and not at all visible from behind the rifle.  “Call me…Ishmael.”

Qin stared at him with grim satisfaction.  “You’re surrounded, Ishmael.”  He pressed harder against Li Na.  “And out of time.  You and the U.S. Navy are too late.”

Clay was still counting in his head.  Qin’s mention of the Navy told him exactly what he was afraid of.  Qin knew everything.  But the man was right, he was out of time.

Clay returned his gaze to Li Na.  “Thirty seconds.”

She began shaking.  Scared to death, she looked helplessly at Clay before allowing her eyes to drop to the doctor’s lifeless body at their feet.  She closed her eyes momentarily before opening them and giving Clay the briefest of nods.

His reaction was nearly instantaneous.  Pressing his index finger against the trigger and sending a single, explosive shot from his rifle.

The bullet hit the outside of Qin’s outstretched hand, ripping through the top of his knuckles and tearing it away from Li Na, who covered her face and dropped to the floor.

Qin screamed and lost his grip on the girl, stumbling back to grab his bloody hand which was now missing an index finger.  Clay’s second shot tore into his left thigh, throwing him violently to the floor.

Li Na fell to her knees and Clay rushed forward to pick her up.

“We have to go.  Now!”  He helped her to the door, but stopped as Li Na suddenly pulled away.  Without a word, she ran back to the closet and retrieved the metal case from inside.  She then jumped past a struggling Qin and followed Clay out.

54

DeeAnn hit the moist ground with a thump.  She and Anderson landed faster than expected, sliding several feet and onto their butts.  Behind them, Juan and Tiewater stumbled but managed to land on their feet.  Corso followed, whose boots hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Caesare arrived last, landing effortlessly with several strides and Dulce wrapped tightly in one arm.  Once stopped, he disconnected the chute behind them before unbuckling her smaller harness.  He lowered her to the ground only to find she was still clinging to him.

We fly!  She said excitedly through DeeAnn’s vest.

“Yes, we fly,” he agreed laughingly and looked at DeeAnn as she approached, glaring at him.  “You okay?”

“That’s debatable.”

He looked past her.  “Juan?”

“I’m okay,” the engineer nodded.  “But if you all don’t mind, I think I’ll stay here and kiss the ground for a while.”

Tiewater laughed and slapped him on the back.  “Ah, that was an easy one.  Try doing it at night.”

“While being shot at,” added Anderson.

“Uh, no thanks.”

Caesare turned back to Dulce and pulled her helmet off.  “How are you, Dulce?”

Me happy.  Fly fun.

He wasn’t the only one surprised that Dulce remained closely at his side.  Both puzzled and still upset, DeeAnn stepped in and caressed her dark brown back.  “Are you hurt?”

No hurt.  Dulce was excited.  She studied the trees and ground, sniffing the air.  She was eager to find her friend.  The first primate she had communicated with.  Or at least the first one she remembered.

Contrary to what some pet owners might claim, Dulce knew she wasn’t a human.  She knew she was different and craved contact with others like her.  And while many humans might assume their pets were content in a human world, Dulce had explained just how wrong that assumption was.

Dulce wanted to be with her own kind.  She needed to be with them.  And Dexter was one of them.

Standing over her, DeeAnn could see the excitement in her eyes.  There was no doubt how much Dulce loved being back in the wild.  Safely this time.  Safely, DeeAnn observed, with Caesare.

Like the other men, Caesare stood and rolled his parachute into a compact bundle.  He then stashed it inside a group of fern bushes and tossed his nylon harnesses in after it.

“Now what?” DeeAnn asked, when he turned around.

“Now we find our drops.  Anderson, find us a place to settle in and establish a perimeter.”

“Yes, sir.”  The young SEAL scanned their small landing site intently before trotting uphill and disappearing through an opening in the trees.

Caesare looked to Tiewater.  “How close are we?”

“Pretty close,” he replied, staring at a small GPS screen.  “Maybe two miles.”

***

It took an hour to retrieve their crates and haul them uphill to the best location they could find.  Concealment and cover were their top priority.  They needed a base that was well concealed and ensured that nothing could be seen from the road, which rounded the top of the mountain a half mile away.  It also needed enough natural backing to avoid being mistakenly silhouetted against the horizon.

An expanse of palm trees provided a thick wall of concealment but not as much cover as they’d hoped for.  However, it provided a wide view of the area below and the best field of fire they were going to find.  Caesare hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Finally, they needed an escape route.  In a fight, things rarely went according to plan, which could leave a fast retreat as their last viable option.

It didn’t take Anderson long to find a way out through the trees and down the other side of the hill.  Together, he and Tiewater relocated a small portion of their ammo and food supplies to a backup location and covered it under a pile of brush.

Coming in light meant they had enough food to keep six adults supplied for five days, but not much more.  A growing gorilla ate more, requiring her own crate of vegetables.  But even those wouldn’t last long.

Anderson returned to camp and quietly checked their visibility from all four directions while Tiewater approached with Juan’s bag over his shoulder.

“Where do you want your gear?”

Juan looked up from his work, making adjustments to DeeAnn’s vest.  “Um, over here, please.”  Tiewater nodded and dropped it with a thud next to the rock Juan was sitting on.

Juan returned his attention to DeeAnn’s vest as it lay sprawled across his lap.  The belt had been damaged during the jump from the airplane.  The wide band was made from neoprene for comfort as well as protection of the thin batteries and circuitry inside.  The damage caused one of the connections to break, leaving the unit without one of the six batteries.

Once Juan located the broken wire, he retrieved a butane-fueled soldering iron and began repairing it.

DeeAnn watched curiously, while also keeping an eye on Dulce, who was sitting nearby munching on a head of kale.

Further below, Corso emerged from the trees and climbed uphill with heavy steps.  When he reached Caesare, he turned around and pointed.  “There’s another ascent a few hundred yards straight out.  Less cover but enough for a crossfire.  The road passes closer to that side then heads north, toward what looks to be an open patch.  But not big enough for more than one or two choppers.  I can see why they didn’t airlift in.  Nowhere else to land.”

Caesare nodded.  “That and they don’t want to be noticed any more than we do.”  He pulled his phone out from his pant leg pocket and turned it on.  After dialing Borger’s number, he waited, listening.  Instead of an answer, he got a busy signal.  He tried again.  Still busy.  Caesare said nothing and dropped it back into his pocket.

Caesare watched as Tiewater retrieved four HK416 assault rifles and handed one to him.  He took it, appreciating the familiar feel of hard, cool metal in his hands.

He turned to Juan.  “How much longer?”

“Should be just a few minutes.  It’s pretty minor.”  Juan kept his eyes on the tip of the iron as wisps of smoke rose from inside the belt.  “I do have more batteries in my bag that need to be charged.”

Caesare nodded and smoothly slung the 416 over his shoulder.  He unzipped the padded canvas where he found the batteries and pulled them out, along with a large solar panel.  After placing the batteries on a nearby rock, he unfolded the panel into thirds and positioned them toward the sun.  Finally, he attached each piece of hardware to a small charge controller and turned it on.

“That should hold it.”  Juan glanced at DeeAnn and stood up, resecuring the neoprene belt.  “But it’s not as strong as the original so we need to be careful.”

“Okay.”  She took the vest from Juan and slipped it back over her white T-shirt, settling the belt over the top of her hips.  She flipped it on and waited for it to initialize.

“Can you hear me, Dulce?”

Yes, me hear.

DeeAnn turned to Caesare.  “Are we ready?”

“Yep.”  Caesare slid a backpack over his wide shoulders.  On his hip was a holstered camouflage-colored Sig Sauer 9mm.  The extra weight of another gun and its ammo was less than ideal, but carrying a second weapon had saved his life more than once.  “We’re about a quarter mile now from where we last saw Dexter.  Once there, it’s all up to you, Dee.”

Anderson stepped forward, handing both DeeAnn and Juan a padded Camelbak with straps, and a long clear hose fastened to the front.

“What’s this?” Juan asked.

“Water.”

DeeAnn took one and slid it on her back, amused.  “Juan, you and Lee really need to get out more.”

His reply was sarcastic.  “We’re on top of a mountain, Dee.  I’m pretty sure this counts.”

She laughed and turned back to Caesare.

“We need to hightail it.  We don’t have much time before Otero and his men arrive.  Stay behind Anderson and me.  Tiewater and Corso will bring up the rear.  Stay on our heels and do not step anywhere outside of our footsteps.  We don’t have time for any injuries or surprises.  If you need us to slow down for any reason, tell us but keep your voice down.  We don’t know who else is up here.  Questions?”

Both shook their heads.  Dulce merely grinned at him from the ground with a hand inside DeeAnn’s.

DeeAnn jumped suddenly at the sound of Corso slapping a magazine into his rifle.  When she turned around, he peered at her with his usual stone face.

They reached their location within twenty minutes, where the smell of smoke was thick in the air, reminding both DeeAnn and Caesare of the grim circumstances of their last visit.  When they reached an opening in the brush, they could see the devastation still spread out before them.

A huge swath of the forest had been wiped clean.  Destroyed.  With the only remnants of vegetation burnt beyond recognition. Farther away and uphill, a sheer cliff wall, hundreds of feet high, towered above them and the blackened earth.

“Jesus Christ,” whistled Tiewater.  “What the hell happened here?”

“Destroyed,” Caesare answered.

“Why?”

“To keep something quiet.”

Tiewater stepped onto the burnt field and scuffed at it with his boot.  “Like what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Behind him, DeeAnn held up an arm, covering her mouth and coughing into her sleeve.

“I’m guessing this has to do with the monkey we’re looking for.”

“That’s right.” Caesare surveyed the area then spoke in a low voice, “The bodies are gone.”

“What bodies?” Juan asked.

“Those belonging to the men who did this.  Chinese soldiers.  They were murdered before they finished the job.”

DeeAnn peered down at Dulce, who was also staring out over the dead terrain.  She wore a puzzled expression, as if not entirely understanding what she was seeing.

Smell bad.

“Yes,” DeeAnn nodded, solemnly.  “The smoke smells very bad.”

Caesare and Tiewater stepped further out, scanning the area before motioning to the others to follow.

Once in the open, DeeAnn bent down and looked at the gorilla.  “Dulce, it’s time to find our friend.”

She grinned excitedly.  Yes.  Dulce find friend.

Her large hazel eyes panned the hillside past the large cliff face and settled on the ground at her feet.  A moment later, and to everyone’s surprise, she sat down in a patch of tall grass, spared from the destruction by only a few yards.  She picked a wildflower and sniffed at its tiny purple petals.  She picked another and another, smelling each one.

Smell.  Dulce held a flower out for DeeAnn, who looked puzzled but accepted it.  She sniffed and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you smell?”

Dulce grunted and shook her head.  Flower smell pretty.

DeeAnn frowned and looked around at the others.  She stopped on Corso, who was clearly not amused.

“I guess her sense of urgency isn’t quite the same as ours,” DeeAnn reflected out loud.

Corso didn’t reply.  He simply stared at her and slowly shook his head.

She was about to apologize when Dulce abruptly stood up.  Her large nostrils wiggled and she turned her head, as though listening.  She then walked for several yards and sat back down in the grass.

Caesare lowered his rifle and pulled the satellite phone back out of his pocket.  He dialed the number again and waited.  Still busy.

It was too early to be concerned, but he needed to talk to Borger, and soon.  He needed to know how much time they had before Otero and his goons arrived.  Watching Dulce told him their chances of finding the capuchin first were dropping dramatically.

But there was something else.  He looked solemnly past the others to the cliff face in the distance and followed it down to its base.

Finding the monkey was one thing, but Caesare and Borger both knew he was also there for another reason.  Something even more important.  There was something inside the base of that cliff that needed to be protected at all costs.  Because if it was found, especially by someone like Otero, the world was not ready for what would come next.

Caesare was there to make sure that didn’t happen.  Only five people knew what was hidden there.  And if he had to, he would tell his men.  Because if it came down to it, they needed to understand that no one could be allowed to find it.

No matter what.

55

The distant peak was in sight now and a frustrated Otero watched from the back of his Range Rover as their convoy made its way slowly and painfully up the narrow winding road.

His frustration was reaching new heights after multiple stops to repair the failing road.  Wind and rain had eroded large sections, making it impossible for the larger trucks to pass without substantial reinforcements.

The third repair had unexpectedly given way when their trucks tried to pass, resulting in a near loss of the entire vehicle and its supplies.  A loss that big would have been significant.  He could live with the loss of some of his men, but fewer supplies meant less time to find the creature for which they had come.

It was becoming increasingly evident to Otero that the success of this mission was going to rely on a single person.  And she was sitting in the vehicle just ahead of them, behind Captain Salazar.

Dr. Becca sat rocking back and forth with the sideways motion of the Humvee as it climbed, bouncing over what was left of the old road.  Hours of driving –– coupled with having to listen to Salazar spout his fascist political views –– was making the trip truly deplorable.  Instead, she tried to focus on the few positive aspects she could find.  Like the vehicle’s air conditioning.

She’d met men like Salazar before.  And just like them, he was an ass, plain and simple.  A bureaucrat dressed in a military uniform and nothing more.  Hiding within just another large government organization that was once again buckling under its own self-serving weight.

Brazil’s economy and its government were now completely imploding.  Like many countries, Brazil was now in the last desperate throes of its collapse and was printing money like mad to stave off the inevitable: the long overdue cleansing of the country’s elite and political class.

To Becca, Salazar was part of the problem.  Unfortunately, those in power never relinquished it without a fight.  But this wasn’t her fight.  She simply wanted to get back and save whatever career she might have left.

A career that, after reading all of the information she’d been given, just might include the zoological breakthrough of the century.  She was now convinced that at least part of what Salazar and Otero were after…was real.  A capuchin demonstrating a significantly higher level of cognition.

If it was true, it was the kind of discovery for the record books and one from which world renowned careers were launched.

In front of Becca, Salazar leaned forward, attempting to reach the dashboard in spite of the vehicle’s bouncing.  His fingers found the small vent and adjusted the angle higher, trying to cool his beading forehead.   The air was gradually growing cooler the higher they climbed, but it still wasn’t enough yet.

He returned his hand to the grab handle overhead, trying to steady himself after one bounce from a particularly large hole.  Salazar’s own satellite phone rang loudly just as it fell from its tucked position against his leg.  He fumbled for it but managed to get the phone to his ear by the third ring.

“Yes,” he answered, over the vehicle’s revving engine.

The voice on the other end was deep.  “How close are you?”

“About five or six hours.”

“It’s about time.”

Salazar opened his mouth to explain but was cut off.

“Does anyone suspect anything?”

“No.  I don’t think so.”

“Good.  Surprise will be key.  You cannot risk anyone knowing.  Do you understand?”

“I do.”  Salazar glanced at his driver for any indications that he was listening in.

“You should also know you’re going to have company.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is someone else at the top.”

Salazar’s brow lowered.  “Who?”

“We don’t know.  One of our AEW aircraft spotted an airplane over the area, which abruptly turned around over the mountains.”

A drop.  Salazar cursed silently to himself and gritted his teeth.  It was exactly what he was trying to preempt.

“You know what’s at stake,” said the voice.  “And you know what happens if you fail.”

56

“This is bullshit.”

Everyone turned to Corso, standing in a small patch of shade with his HK416 gripped firmly in his large hands.

“Excuse me?”

His eyes moved to DeeAnn, then to Caesare.  Dulce was sitting overhead in a young aphandra tree, examining its branches.

“She’s not going to find a damn thing.”

DeeAnn turned to Caesare before he could reply.  “We need to give it time.  This isn’t exactly a science.  She’s doing the best she can.”

Corso looked up again into the tree.  “Yeah, it looks it.”

A moment later, a large white and yellow flower fell down onto Corso’s shoulder, where he brushed it away and glared at the gorilla.  Dulce returned a toothy grin.

“What the hell you expecting, Corso?” Tiewater grinned, descending from the top of a large rock.  “You want the little thing to draw us a map?”

Anderson shrugged.  “That would be nice.”

DeeAnn was still staring at Caesare.  “We need more time.”

Time was a luxury they didn’t have.  Caesare glanced at his watch again and peered up at the sky.  They had three hours of daylight left at the most.  And all the while Otero was getting closer.  He needed to know how close but Borger still wasn’t answering his phone.  Something was wrong.

“Ask her again,” he said.

After a moment, DeeAnn sighed and turned back around to face Dulce.  “Where is our friend, Dulce?”

No know.  Me look.

“How much more time?”

Her vest unexpectedly beeped, signaling a bad translation.

“How much longer?”

Dulce peered at her curiously from the tree.  She looked like she was about to reply when she stopped.  The gorilla abruptly stood up in the tree and steadied herself with a branch.  Her posture was stiff.  Alert.  After a long silence, she spoke.

Go there.

Everyone on the ground looked up with surprise.

“Go where?”

There.  Dulce raised her lanky arm and pointed.

“Is that where friend is?”

Dulce scampered down and leaped from the tree, landing on Corso’s broad shoulders.  Her focus still in the direction she had pointed.

“Get the hell off me!”  Corso violently shook his shoulders, sending Dulce jumping to Tiewater, who caught her in his arms.

“You’re really something with the ladies.”

“Shut up.”

DeeAnn closed in and repeated.  “Where, Dulce?  Show us where.”

She pointed again, across a large section of the burnt field.  There.

Past the field, a wide section of trees covered the area, which sloped away from the peak.  Their dull green color bore a resemblance to olive trees, with thin branches swaying gently from side to side in the breeze, now blowing over the top of the mountain.  The trees continued on for as far as they could see.  They became denser before rising again over another ridge, and then disappeared where the mountain continued another long descent.

Caesare immediately continued forward, leading the way over the burnt ground and into the tall grass on the other side.  When he reached the edge of the trees, he stopped and turned to Dulce, who passed him and climbed another tree.  She sat, listening.

Corso shook his head.  “This is a waste of time.”

“Not necessarily,” DeeAnn replied, crossing her arms.  “All primates are semi-terrestrial, meaning they live in large social groups.  They don’t roam very far from a home location except for foraging.  Most humans are the same.  Like nesting with birds.”

Corso smirked.  “Well, we’re pretty far from home now.”

“That’s because we have airplanes,” Juan quipped, sitting down.  He unzipped his bag, pulled out several square-shaped bundles and turned to DeeAnn.  “Time for a battery swap.”

She nodded, twisting away from Corso and powering off the vest.  Together, she and Juan removed the previous batteries and inserted a new set.  Once Juan double-checked the connection and secured the Velcro flaps back over the pockets, she turned it back on.

“Can you hear me, Dulce?”

Dulce looked down from the tree and frowned.  She held a dark finger over her mouth.

DeeAnn rolled her eyes while Caesare laughed.

“You might be teaching her too well.”

Several minutes later, Caesare’s phone rang in his pocket.

“Will, where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry, Steve.  I don’t have time to explain, but things are getting crazy.  I see you guys are on the ground.”

“We are.  And looking for our friend.  Where’s Otero?”

“Hold on.”  Borger pulled up his live feed from the ARGUS satellite.  “They’re close.  Very close.  Maybe an hour or two from the summit.  I’m counting…seventeen vehicles, most are large trucks.  Probably carrying men or supplies.”

“They’re carrying both,” Caesare said dryly.

“Right.  The only road bears north across the top of the peak, about a mile or so from where you are, so you should see them soon.”

“Great.  Anything else?”

“Not at the moment.  But call me if you need any more.  I’ll try to ring you back if I can’t answer.  I need to help Clay.”

Caesare’s brow rose.  “What’s going on with Clay?

“I’m not sure yet.  He reached the hospital but now it looks like he’s moving again.  I’ve been trying to reach him, but he’s not answering.”

“All right.  I’ll ring off.  We’re fine for the moment.”  Without waiting for a reply, Caesare ended the call but remained staring at the phone.

Caesare had his own problems to worry about, but he did have one guess on why Clay wasn’t answering his phone.

57

Clay wasn’t answering his phone because he couldn’t.  With a rifle in one fist and the hand of Wei’s daughter in the other, he was rushing down the steep embankment, half running and half sliding.  He struggled to find a smooth path, knowing the girl couldn’t see what he could through his night-vision goggles.

Behind him, Li Na lost her footing several times but Clay’s strong arm kept her on her feet.  When they reached the bottom of the ravine, they both splashed through a shallow stream and scrambled up the other side.

Through the tall trees, the two helicopters to the south could be heard taking to the sky.  Qin had apparently gotten to a radio –– most likely aboard his own chopper.

He suddenly slipped in a thick pile of leaves but managed to catch himself.  He regained his footing and pulled Li Na up behind him.  Once they cleared the top of the incline, he continued again as fast as the girl could keep up.

Several hundred yards later they reached another drop, this one much steeper.  He panned from one side to the other, looking for a way down.  Almost as if on cue, the phone in the pocket of his pants rang.

His answer was immediate.  “Need some help, Will.”

Borger was already studying a daytime image of the area.  “There’s a fairly large stream in front of you.  Let me see if I can find an easier way across.”

“I’m not worried about the water.  I need a way down.”

“There’s a small area to the east where it looks like it flattens out.  One hundred yards upstream, or maybe two.”

Clay slung the rifle over his shoulder to keep the phone in his hand.  He kept a tight grip on Li Na and moved quickly along the ridge.

“The choppers are in the air,” he said, panting into the phone.  “And headed this way.  What’s ahead of us?”

“Us?” Borger raised his eyebrows.  “You have Wei’s daughter?”

“Well, I sure as hell hope that’s who I grabbed.”

Borger zoomed out, looking for something he could give them.  Anything.

“There’s a small house to the southeast, but it’s pretty far away.  Maybe a mile and a half.  Everything else is in the other direction.”

“Too far,” Clay mumbled.  He stopped on the edge of the ridge and spotted the area Borger described.  Instead of a cliff, soft dirt descended at a more manageable descent.  He dropped to the ground, pulling Li Na down with him and sliding down the embankment, his feet out in front of him.  He dug in with the heels of his boots, sending rocks and leaves spilling down in front of him.

Directly behind him, Li Na did the same.

When they reached the bottom, Clay pulled her through the water and waded across.  When they reached the other side, Clay brought the phone back up to his ear.

“You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the house?”

“Roughly four o’clock from your current direction.”

“Okay.”

Borger was now studying a different image of the same region, this one taken at night.  He examined the area where the small house was situated.

“Uh, Clay.  There may be a problem.  I don’t see any lights at that place.  I’m not sure if it’s occupied.  I’m looking for another option.”

There was no answer.

“Clay?”  Borger checked his phone.  The call had ended.

***

The terrain gradually leveled off, allowing Clay and Li Na to pick up speed.  Overhead, the sound of the helicopters was followed only seconds later by searchlights.

Clay quickened his pace.  A mile and a half was a long way over this kind of terrain.  He ground to a halt near a tight cluster of trees and released Li Na’s hand.  He then removed his goggles and looked up at a bright beam of light sweeping the forest behind them.

He pulled the teenage girl in close and pressed them both against a tree trunk as the searchlight passed over them.  He watched it continue on before looking down at Li Na.

“There’s a house nearby, but we have to move faster or we’ll never make it.  Can you run on your own?”

“I think so.”

“Good.  Stay close to me.”

***

Not far away, Qin’s helicopter finally rose into the air once the pilot had wrapped his bloody hand in a thick bandage.  He listened through his headphones to the exchange between the other two helicopters searching the ground for Li Na and the American.

“If you see them,” Qin broke in, “stop them!  Even if you have to shoot.  They must not escape!”

Once above the trees, Qin could see the aircraft lights from the other two choppers.  One to the southeast and the other to the northeast.  The rest of the soldiers were on the ground, sweeping forward in the same directions.

Even in his panic-induced rage, Qin knew he was lucky.  These men were some of the best in the Chinese Army, and he couldn’t have hoped for a better group to provide aid.  But it was more than coincidence.  More than luck.  It was fate.  The message was clear.  Destiny was on Qin’s side.

Now the girl and the American were in the middle of nowhere.  Headed in the worst possible direction.  And all they could do was run.

58

That was exactly what Clay and Li Na were doing.  Together they weaved in and around the dark tree trunks, stopping frequently to remain hidden.  The bright curtains of light pierced the canopies overhead and bathed the ground, passing ominously back and forth.

After another pass, Clay dropped his bag and pulled out a dark thermal blanket.  He wrapped it around Li Na to cover her lighter clothing.  It would make it easier to blend with the ground beneath them, as long as they were not moving when spotted.  It wasn’t foolproof, but it was better than nothing.

If Qin had any experience, or brains, he already had men on the ground following them.  Having to stop when the light approached meant they had to move even faster in the darkness.  The men on the ground would be gaining.  Their shrinking lead and the house ahead of them were now all that was separating them from Qin.

The sound of the helicopter’s thundering blades passed over once more and had just begun to fade when they darted out together again, running for all they were worth.

It felt a hell of a lot longer than a mile and a half.

When Clay found the small house, he was expecting something more…recognizable.  Instead, what Borger had spotted from the air was little more than an old shack.  More than that, it looked as though it was barely standing, positioned in a small clearing and surrounded by tall tallow trees, their canopies fighting for the open sky overhead.

On the ground, near the structure, were tools and a wooden cart, its wheels appearing ready to fall off.  On the ground was a pile of something Clay couldn’t quite make out.  But what caught his eye was the soft glow of light visible through a very old, but surprisingly clear window.

He stepped forward and looked through it.  There was little to see.  The view was blocked by a cloth curtain.

Without the slightest hesitation, he moved to what looked like a front door and tried the rusted knob.

Locked.

He stepped back and stared at it.  All at once he raised his leg, and with a powerful kick, focused his boot against the door, just inches from the knob.  In an earsplitting crack, the door exploded inward and slammed against an interior wall.

Inside, in a small room, sat a Chinese family.  Ragged and sitting around a wooden table with fear in their eyes.  The shock of having their front door kicked in had left them motionless, holding food to their mouths in mid bite.

The small family was composed of two school-age boys and a younger sister sitting next to their parents, with a stove fire burning behind them. On the table, flames from several homemade candles danced in the sudden burst of outside air.

The family’s faces didn’t change.  They remained fixed at the table, unmoving.  After an awkward silence, the father’s eyes blinked past them, out through the door at one of the searchlights as it passed overhead.

Still heaving in the doorway, Clay turned to Li Na.

“Tell them we need help.”

59

The man at the table listened to Li Na and looked up again as the second helicopter roared past.

His eyes moved to the tall man standing in the doorway, with one hand firmly grasping a rifle.  He was clearly an American soldier, breathing heavily and with a face like stone.

The father carefully put down his wooden bowl, not taking his eyes off either one of them.  Eventually, he motioned to the boy on his right –– the taller of the two –– and spoke softly.  Nearest to the stove, the mother remained completely still.

Struggling to remain patient, Clay turned and peered back through the door.  “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Wait,” Li Na whispered back.

The boy, not more than thirteen, rose nervously from the table.  He stepped away and moved to the door where he turned, staring directly at his father.

His father nodded firmly.  Even to Clay, the message was clear: move!

They followed the boy as he ran, zigzagging through the forest as though he had every tree memorized, and every step.

Clay was surprised to see the teenager instinctively stop when the light returned, waiting for it to pass before resuming.

They reached a worn path, barely as wide as a single footprint, and followed the boy up a steep incline, winding their way around a small, heavily covered hill.  When they reached the far side, they stopped in front of a rock face protruding from the underbrush.  Carved into the rock was a large dark hole, almost as tall as Clay and just as wide.

The boy spoke in a hushed tone to Li Na, who translated to Clay.

“It’s a mine.  An old one.  He says there’s another entrance at the other end, about a kilometer and a half.”

She paused, listening to the boy again.

“From there, an old road leads out through a small valley where it meets the railroad tracks.”

Clay stared at the opening in the rock.  “Tell us about the mine.”

In Chinese, she repeated what Clay had said and the boy explained.

“He says it was abandoned a long time ago.  No one knows about it anymore.  There are several tunnels.  We need to keep to our left.”

Clay didn’t respond.  Instead he stepped forward, examining the opening with a grim expression.  Most caverns and mines were not the adventure, nor salvation, most people considered them to be.  Long and winding underground tunnels were very dangerous, especially mines with multiple adits.  More people lost their way, and their lives, than the public knew.   And it was always in the same order.  They lost their light, then their way, and finally fresh air.

This was not a good option.

Overhead, a searchlight approached. Somehow they had deduced Clay’s direction, and unfortunately, the trees were not dense enough to hide them forever.  The mine, even as a bad option, was better than none.

He shook his head and slid the bag off his back.  He’d have to carry it in by hand.  In its place, he slung the rifle.  Clay placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and thanked him using one of the few Chinese words he knew.

“Xie xie.”

The boy responded with something he didn’t understand.  Nevertheless, the look in his eyes reinforced John Clay’s long-held belief.  A belief that ultimately, no matter where they lived, regular people were all the same.  More than anything else, they wanted to grow old.  To raise healthy children and to help one another.  In the end, most people simply wanted to leave the world a better place.  Distant enemies, he was convinced, were simply the product of political brainwashing.

Clay smiled at him before nodding to Li Na.  He then bent over, ducking his head low, and stepped into pitch blackness.

Once inside, Clay estimated a distance of thirty feet before lowering his bag and fishing out a small compact military style flashlight.  He turned it on, instantly washing the narrow walls in bright light.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Li Na nodded.  She stepped forward carefully, using the ambient glow from Clay’s light in front of her.  The ground was littered with chunks of rock and large pieces of stone, some of which had fallen from the low ceiling, leaving pocks overhead.

The walls, less than a foot away on either side, bore deep scrapes in the rock and were largely covered in a dark film.

“Did the kid mention what kind of mine this was?”

Li Na paused for a moment. “Uh...coal?”

Clay fingered some of the material off a nearby wall and smelled it.  “Iron ore.”

“Iron ore.  Yes.  What is it for?”

“It’s used in steel.”  Clay picked up his bag, holding it out in front of him as he moved forward.  Things just kept getting worse.

60

Things were getting worse.  Caesare studied the distant sky, which was continuing to change.  The setting sun had already disappeared behind the dark horizon, cutting their light short and causing the team to turn back early.  Their storm had resumed its easterly direction.

Tiewater stepped up behind Caesare, who was standing on a rocky outcropping.  “That doesn’t look good.”

“No.  It doesn’t.”

“How long?”

Caesare shook his head.  “I’m not sure.  Maybe tomorrow morning.”

Tiewater scratched at the base of his lightly colored hair.  He was graying prematurely, giving a distinguished contrast against his darker eyebrows.  “We’re going to need to find some cover.  That could be a hell of a downpour.”

“Agreed,” Caesare nodded.  This was all they needed.

They both turned as Anderson came rushing out from a wall of palms below and scaled the small incline.   He reached them only slightly out of breath.

“I may have some good news.”

“Good, we could use some.”

“I found some tracks headed northwest.  Tire tracks.  We have company up here and it’s not Otero.”

Caesare and Tiewater looked at each other.  “Who?”

“Poachers, most likely.”

“Poachers?”  Tiewater frowned.  “Why is that good news?”

A wry grin appeared on Caesare’s face, matching Anderson’s.  “Because the poachers may be looking for the same thing we are.”

“And not even realize it,” Anderson added.

Caesare motioned to Tiewater.  “You two check it out.  Corso and I will stay here and find some shelter.  If nothing else, maybe these poachers can save us some time.”  He checked his watch.  “Find out where they are, fast.”

“Yes, sir.”  Together, both men promptly scrambled back downhill and disappeared.

Caesare stepped down and followed a small path of matted grass back to the area where the rest were seated.

Corso approached him and spoke in a low voice.  “What’s up?”

“Anderson may have found us a shortcut.  In the meantime, we need to find some shelter.  The storm isn’t finished with us.”

“Yeah, I saw that.  I’ll see what I can find.”  He raised a small wire microphone and earplug, then wrapped it around his left ear.

Caesare turned to DeeAnn and Juan, resting on a pair of nearby rocks.  They looked exhausted.

“Where’s Dulce?”

DeeAnn looked up above Caesare’s head.  He followed her eyes up just in time to catch the small gorilla, hanging from the tree and trying to place a small white flower on his head.

“Someone seems to be enjoying herself.”

Juan finished replacing the batteries and handed the vest back to DeeAnn.  “Where’d the other guys go?”

“They’re checking some things out.  The storm is headed our way again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were.  Things may be about to get very wet.”  He scanned the ground around them.  “And very muddy.”

“What do we do?”

“Corso’s searching for shelter.  If we can find a decent place, we’ll need to relocate.”

“Where are the other two?”

“Looking for a shortcut.”

Juan and DeeAnn both looked at each other.  “What does that mean?”

He grinned at DeeAnn.  “It means that even poachers may still have one redeeming quality.”

61

“Poacher” was such an ugly word.  Hugo preferred almost any other term.  And frankly, he never understood why the practice was even illegal.

The Brazilian took another drag off his cigarette and scratched his stubbled chin absently.

As far as he was concerned, the black market was the way the world should be, pure opportunity without all the government leeching.

Poaching, like most lines of work, was simply the filling of a need for those who wanted something.  To him, there was little difference between cats and dogs and the more exotic pets that some people wanted.  Pets were pets.  And in this case, a capuchin was simply harder to find and capture.

But more than that, it was a matter of survival.  For him.  The truth was that it was getting damn hard to make a living in Brazil, honest or not.  He hadn’t always been a poacher, but when the economy collapsed he had to find a way to feed his family.  When it came to them versus an empty table, who gave a crap about a bunch of monkeys?  As long as people continued to pay, he would continue to satisfy the demand.

Hugo finished his cigarette and dropped it into the moist soil, rubbing it out with his boot.  He remained still, listening as the first moments of darkness enveloped the area.  The evening mist rolling over and down the mountain felt cool against his sweaty neck and arms.

Not far away he could see the flicker of light from another cigarette.  His partner, Vito.  There were four of them in all, each fanning out in the darkness, waiting.

The monkeys were easier to hear at night.

They waited almost forty-five minutes before hearing the first whistle.  It was quickly followed by another, and then another.  Hugo’s ears zeroed in on a direction.  Roughly eleven o’clock from his position.  He could see Vito’s cigarette suddenly disappear.

Hugo withdrew his JM Special dart gun and checked it.  The dart was chambered and ready.  The tranquilizer was stronger than necessary, but given the capuchin’s habit of running or climbing after being shot, a weaker dose too often made for difficult retrievals.  Hugo and his partners had learned that risking the effects of a more powerful drug was an easy trade over trying to track the damn things down.

He stalked briskly into the dense forest, rolling his feet carefully from heel to toe in an effort to remain silent.  The soft, damp ground helped reduce the noise as he moved delicately over the leaves.

All four were now moving in on the increasing chatter, and what was beginning to sound like a big score.

***

With his face painted black, Tiewater edged forward through a group of ground ferns, letting the tip of his rifle float out first before sweeping past the objects in front of him –– large tents, an oversized fire pit, and stand-up tables with a propane stove and cooking utensils.

Further away were two trucks, both old and covered in mud, sitting silently.  The first truck was a Ford Explorer and the other a long flatbed with dozens of wooden cages stacked on the back.  Inside the cages sat several monkeys who had stopped screaming and were now curiously watching Tiewater emerge from the bushes.  The abrupt silence of the capuchins made the area feel eerie, leaving only the sound of his footsteps as Tiewater eased himself out fully into the open.  He was covered by Anderson, perched above him and following steadily through the sights of his HK416.

Tiewater approached one of the tents and stopped outside, listening.  Hearing nothing, he pushed the tip of his barrel through the nylon flap and moved it aside, peering in.

Nothing.

One by one, he checked the others before looking up to Anderson and shaking his head.

“No one here,” he whispered into his microphone.  “But it’s definitely not abandoned.”  Tiewater moved to the larger of the trucks, where the monkeys were still watching him.  He looked into the front cab.

“Judging from their supplies, I’d say four or five, tops.”  He moved back to the smoldering fire pit and studied it.  “They’ve been here a few days.”

“They sure are tidy.”

Tiewater nodded.  “Makes for a quick departure, and with minimal evidence.”

“Smart.”

“Or paranoid.”  Tiewater stopped, noticing something on the ground.  Kneeling down, he retrieved his flashlight and held it close to the soil, covering it with his hand.  The beam was small and focused and revealed several footprints.

He turned it off and put the light away.

“Tracks?” Anderson asked.

“Yep.”

62

Hugo eased to his left, shifting more weight onto his elbow as he scanned for a source of the chattering.  Dressed in full jungle camouflage and hat, he kept the brim low, covering most of his face.

Through the night scope, he checked slowly from one tree to the next, until spotting his target on a wide branch.  The dark outline of the capuchin was unmistakable, moving only slightly as it chattered back and forth.

Hugo remained trained on the silhouette for a long time, giving his colleagues time to lock in on any others.  Once the first shot was fired, they would all have to follow suit before the rest fled.

To make matters worse, some monkeys were surprisingly sharp, realizing something was wrong before the poachers had a chance to shoot.  They still hadn’t figured out what tipped off the brighter ones, which forced them to be even more cautious.

Hugo lowered his head and centered his scope on the target.  He took a deep breath and slowly let it out, smoothly pulling the trigger halfway through.

A loud thump exploded from the end of his rifle, followed by two more shots nearby.  The silhouette on the branch shrieked and fell from sight, hitting the ground with a thud.  High-pitched screams instantly filled the air overhead.  Dozens of capuchins scrambled away as Hugo and his men leaped to their feet, running for the trees.

He reached the base of the tree and grabbed the tiny figure curled on the ground.  But when he held it up, the white tip of the dart dangled from its loose skin, not from the body.  It wasn’t a direct hit.  The monkey wasn’t unconscious.

Instead, it began flailing in his hands, screaming and clawing wildly.  The small creature desperately tried to free itself while Hugo struggled to hang on.  One of the monkey’s claws abruptly took a chunk of skin out of his soft cheek, causing a searing pain.

Hugo yelled and squeezed harder, trying to restrain the creature, but it only fought harder.  After another painful gash across his mouth, Hugo’s right hand withdrew his sap and brought it forward, smashing the hard metal against the monkey’s tiny head.

The animal was instantly silenced.  As it fell limp in the man’s hands, he brought it closer, studying it in the moonlight.

“Shit,” he growled.  The damn thing was dead.

He stood up and removed the dart, angrily dropping the limp body onto the ground.   He looked around for the other men and spotted the outline of Vito moving toward him.

“Yours sounded lively,” the shorter man called out.

Hugo felt his lip.  Even in the darkness, he could feel the blood on his fingertips.  “Damn thing attacked me.  I had to smash it.”

The other man laughed and held up his captive’s listless body.  “Got mine.”

Over the tops of their rifles, both Tiewater and Anderson watched the two men converge and continue talking.  A few minutes later, two more arrived, both empty-handed.

Tiewater eased his head up and brought his mike in closer.  “Tie here.”

“Go ahead,” replied Caesare.

“I think this is the place our gorilla is looking for.  And you probably want to hurry.”

Caesare’s eyes stopped when he heard Tiewater’s message.  They were moving the last of their gear under a small rock shelter, not far from where they’d been.  It wasn’t perfect, but it would provide at least some protection from the rain without compromising their position.

Caesare turned his head to Corso and had just began to speak when they all heard the sound they had been dreading.  The distant roar from dozens of engines as the first sets of headlights crested the top of the mountain.

All four stood and watched over the trees as truck after truck appeared, steaming up the last of the incline, and approached over the dirt road.

63

Leading the procession, Salazar’s vehicle continued for another half mile before stopping in the middle of the road.  He promptly climbed out of his Humvee and moved off the road, watching with a smile the line of headlights as they appeared one by one.  Eventually the vehicles began braking to a stop behind him.

His lieutenant climbed out of the third vehicle, a large truck carrying over a dozen men, and approached Salazar.  Together, they watched the silhouettes against the long line of headlights as their men began pouring out and surrounding the trucks.

Salazar retrieved a cigarette from his shirt pocket and watched as Otero, emerged from his Range Rover with Russo close behind him.

He ignored both men and spoke directly to his lieutenant, Sosa.  “Get a base set up and find some fresh water.  I want a dozen men out searching for whoever or whatever was dropped off here. And tell them they’re authorized to shoot first.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me.  Shoot anything they see unless it’s a goddamn monkey.”

Sosa displayed a look of concern.  “Sir, if there’s someone else up here, we don’t know who they are.”

“I don’t care who they are.”

The lieutenant’s eyes flickered briefly to Otero and Russo before returning to his commanding officer.  “Sir, what if they are Brazilians?”

Salazar looked at Sosa hard.  “Then they have no business being up here.”

Sosa simply stared at Salazar.  The tense moment was interrupted by footsteps from the grass.  They all turned to see Becca’s smaller frame emerge from the darkness.

“Dr. Becca,” Salazar said.  “Your men will be ready within the hour.  I recommend you be as well.”

“An hour?” she said, surprised.  “I thought we were starting in the morning.”

“The plan has changed.  Someone else is already here.  And they’re likely searching for the same thing we are.”

Otero was watching, his features barely visible in the darkness.  “When was the drop?”

“This morning.”  Salazar turned back to his lieutenant.  “Get your men moving.”  Then he turned to Becca.  “Doctor.  One hour.”

With that, Salazar turned and walked back toward his vehicle.  Both his lieutenant and the doctor quickly disappeared into the darkness, leaving Otero and Russo alone.

“How did he find out about the drop?”  Otero muttered.

“He’s communicating with someone,” Russo mused.  “Someone with access to Aeronautics Command.  We don’t have any radar stations up here, which means the drop could only have been picked up by aircraft.  Probably one of the Orions.”

Otero didn’t answer.  Instead, he stood there thinking, still watching the lieutenant’s silhouette as he marched back to the trucks and began yelling orders.

For the first time, Otero felt a streak of nervousness run through him.  He had secured support at the highest level.  From the office of the President.  And he was told Salazar was nothing but a pawn, whose sole purpose would be to help him reach the Acarai Mountains.

But something wasn’t right.  Such as why Salazar was notified of the air drop instead of him.  It made Otero wonder.  The economic collapse in Brazil had left the country teetering on the brink of civil war, with the current government in tatters.  A grim realization began to wash over him.  Perhaps those Otero had aligned himself with…were no longer in control.

Which would mean neither was he.

64

Where we go?

Dulce was struggling to keep up through the dense foliage, even as DeeAnn pulled her along.

“We have to hurry.”  DeeAnn’s breathing was labored, but she still managed to reply in a hushed tone.  She gripped Dulce’s furry hand tighter and tried to stay behind the figure of Steve Caesare, hacking his way through the heavy growth.

When her vest translated her words, she cringed at the speaker volume, which blared loudly.

“Jesus,” growled Corso behind them.  “Turn that thing down!  Everyone’s going to hear us.”

Caesare halted in front of them and spun around.  “He’s right.”

“Uh…” DeeAnn looked down at the blue light on her vest, searching.

“She can’t,” Juan answered, from behind her.

“What?”

“There’s no way to turn down the volume.”

“There’s no volume?”

Juan turned from Corso and looked at Caesare’s silhouette.  “No.  When we designed the vest, we didn’t think we needed one.  Besides, changes in amplitude complicate things with the translation.”

Corso looked over the top of Juan’s head to Caesare.  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, communication doesn’t work very well if one person can’t hear the other.”

Caesare stared at them, then finally nodded.  He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood.

From the ground, Dulce looked back and forth between them.  We stop.

DeeAnn placed a finger over her lips.  “Dulce, quiet.”

Dulce quiet.

DeeAnn cringed again as the translation seemed even louder now that they were standing still.

Caesare watched Dulce, but spoke to DeeAnn.  “Turn it off.”

“What?”

“Turn it off.”

“But…”

“We can’t take any chances.”

DeeAnn looked at Juan, hoping for another option, but he simply frowned.

Reluctantly, she squatted down in front of Dulce so she could see her face.  She placed a hand gently on Dulce’s head and again put her fingers to her lips.

Dulce watched her curiously, unsure of why they had to be quiet.  No one else was talking.  With a troubled expression, she watched as DeeAnn made the blue light go off.

***

The screaming of the capuchin monkeys from their cages began even before an angry Hugo pushed his way through the thick brush.  He stormed into their small camp, followed by the other three, and dropped his gun on a fold-out table.  In frustration, he then turned and kicked dirt into the smoldering embers of their fire.

Behind him, Vito approached the truck and pulled an empty cage up onto the flatbed.  He pushed the limp body of his prize into the cage and closed the wooden door, securing it with a clasp and cable.

He suddenly stopped.  One of the cages was empty.

“Merda.”

The others looked up, including Hugo, who was now searching for something to stem the bleeding from his cheek.  He grabbed a piece of cloth from his bag and pressed it in place before turning back to the truck.

Without moving his head, Vito’s eyes stared across the bed.  “Another one gone.”

“What?!”

“Another one is gone,” he repeated.

Hugo stormed over to the truck and glared at the crate in disbelief.  “How the hell…”  He moved around to the back, keeping the cloth pressed hard against his cheek.  “I told you to lock it right this time!” he bellowed.

“I did!”

“Then it’s broken.”  Hugo pushed him out of the way and studied the cage.  Primates, even capuchins, could be stronger than they looked.  Especially when locked in an enclosure and panicking.

He spun the cage around with one hand, examining it closely in the dim light of a nearby lantern.  He couldn’t see anything wrong.  The thick wood frame still felt strong.  He refastened the clasp and cable –– they locked securely.  Finding nothing broken, he yelled and threw the crate, sending it tumbling over the ground.

“I saw him check it,” one of the others said.

Hugo shook his head, scowling.  “Then you’re both idiots!”  He glanced at the amount of blood on his cloth and threw it away.

“What the hell is happening?” he yelled.  The night had already been a waste, with only a single capture between them.  Now another was lost.

He didn’t know how the capuchins were escaping, but they were.  Somehow.

***

“ETA?”

“About fifteen minutes,” Caesare replied.

Tiewater nodded from his hiding spot less than sixty feet from the poacher camp.  Their faces painted black, both he and Anderson watched the poacher’s outburst from a distance.

“What’s happening?”  Caesare called over the radio.

Tiewater spoke quietly.  “Our friends are home and one of them seems to have gotten his panties in a wad.”  He continued his reconnaissance, motionlessly.

From the other side of the encampment, Anderson also lay watching, listening to Tiewater through his own headset.

“How many are there?”

“Four.  The big one is in charge.  Camp is probably a couple thousand square feet, with two vehicles.  One small and the other larger for cargo.  Observable weapons are sidearms and some tranquilizer rifles.  Doesn’t look like they’ve been here more than a few days.”

“Any defenses?”

“None.”

A few minutes later, Tiewater slid backward out of position and stood without a sound.  Remaining low, he moved back through the trees where he found Caesare and Corso waiting in the darkness.

“What are they doing?”

Tiewater shrugged.  “Eating.  But it sounds like their poaching isn’t going too well.”

“What a shame,” Caesare remarked sarcastically.  “We’re out of time.  Otero is here.  We need to find the monkey in a hurry.”

“Well, I suspect these guys have a pretty good guess as to where.”  Tiewater motioned over his shoulder and turned back, followed by Caesare.  But as Corso took a step forward, he suddenly paused.  He felt something stuck in his collar and reached up to grab it.

It was soft, and only when he examined it closely could he make out the shape.  One of Dulce’s flowers.  He shook his head.  Then, glancing forward to make sure he wasn’t seen, Corso raised it up and sniffed it.

***

Hugo was still stewing from his seat on a fold-out chair.  He took another bite of dried meat and shook his head, keeping his eyes on the fire.

The other men were also seated around the fire, eating silently.  They’d had a definite streak of bad luck.  One that was refusing to break, leaving the last few hunting trips as complete losses.

“We need to try something else,” Vito replied, after dropping his metal plate to the ground.  “They’re learning our ways.”

“They hear us coming,” Claudio, the third man, replied.

“Then what do you suggest?”

Vito turned around and faced the cages on the back of the truck.  “Maybe we can use the ones we have…to catch more.”

“You mean as bait?”

“Yes.  Maybe we tie one up in the forest to lure the others.”

“His screaming will warn the others before that.”

“Not if we sedate him.”

Hugo considered it.  More of the powerful tranquilizer in such a short amount of time would cause problems with the animal’s nervous system, but if it allowed them to catch more, the risk would be worth it.  If they caught enough monkeys, they could simply kill the bait.

Hugo raised his eyes and began to nod, then suddenly froze.  The rustling behind Vito had been subtle.  Not enough to be heard and barely enough to be seen in the dim light. At that exact moment, the other three poachers each witnessed the same dreaded sight –– figures dressed in black and hidden behind the barrels of their assault rifles.

From different directions, Caesare, Tiewater, Corso, and Anderson all stepped out in unison.  Each emerging from a position visible by one of the poachers, all of whom froze in stunned silence…except one.

Claudio, the youngest of Hugo’s group and an Argentinian…panicked.  At the sight of Tiewater, he was immediately on his feet before anyone could stop him and drawing his weapon.

Corso, moving slowly out of the brush behind him, saw the kid draw and bolted for him.  It took only a few steps at full speed for Corso to reach him and knock him out with the butt of his rifle, but not before a single shot exploded from the .45 caliber pistol.

65

Hiding less than a hundred yards away, DeeAnn, Dulce, and Juan all jumped when they heard the loud gunshot.  But it was the Brazilians, even further away, who stopped in their tracks.  All eyes turned north with dozens of hands instinctively gripping their own guns.

Salazar and his lieutenant looked back at each other, completely ignoring both Otero and Russo.

There was no second shot.

Salazar began yelling.  “Hurry!  Move!”  He locked eyes with his lieutenant.  “Move your men out with the search team.  NOW!”

***

It was less than a minute before Caesare reappeared in the darkness and looked down at DeeAnn.  “We have to move.  Right now!”

They scrambled to their feet.  “What the hell was that?”

“An accident.”

“Did you shoot them?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?  What does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to have company if we don’t get out of here immediately.”

A few minutes later they all emerged into what DeeAnn recognized as a small camp.  Surrounded by four tents, several fold-out tables and chairs, they could see Anderson standing nearby, bandaging Tiewater’s arm.  On the ground was a large man with his arms bound behind his back.  He had a deep bronze complexion and sat dressed in rumpled camouflage clothes.  He watched the SEALs standing over him with a look of confusion.

“You okay?” Caesare asked Tiewater.

“Yeah.  Just a graze.”

“Where’s Corso?”

“Here.”

He turned to his left to see Corso’s large frame appear, pushing through a wall of waist-high plants.

“Where are the others?”

“Sleeping.”

Caesare grinned and knelt down in front of the man, resting his rifle across one arm.

“What’s your name?”

The man stared at him without replying.

“Name,” Caesare asked again, louder.

Hugo stared uncomprehendingly at the men.

Caesare sighed and stood back up.  “Anyone speak Portuguese?”

“I can ask how much cab fare is,” Tiewater said with a grimace.  “But that’s about it.”

“Great.”

“Portuguese wasn’t exactly popular in high school.”

Caesare looked at Corso with surprise.  “Really?  Now you get funny?”

“It takes me a while.”

“No kidding.”

Tiewater straightened his arm and snaked his sleeve back down over his bandage.  He stared down at the poacher.  “We don’t need him.  We know where they were.”

Anderson nodded in agreement.

Steve Caesare thought for a moment before turning around to DeeAnn and pointing at her vest.

“Turn it on.”

“I thought you wanted it off?”

“It doesn’t matter now.  Everyone heard the gunshot.  Which means a company of soldiers is now headed this way.”

He watched DeeAnn turn the vest back on before kneeling down again, in front of Dulce.

From her own viewpoint, the small gorilla watched Caesare’s frame lower to the ground.  He was looking at her with an expression she’d come to know as worried.

She stepped forward, studying him, and wiggled her large black nostrils.  She could smell his nervousness.

When he spoke, she heard his mechanical voice through DeeAnn’s vest.

You hear now, Dulce?

She nodded at the mechanical sound from the vest.

“Yes.  I hear you.”

Me need you help.

“Yes.  I help.”  Dulce grunted, smiling at Caesare.  “How help you?”

We need find friend.  Need fast.  Very fast.

“Yes.  I can find friend.  I find friend quickly.”  Dulce sniffed again.  It wasn’t just nervousness she could smell on Caesare.  Some of it was fear.  They were in danger.

“I find him.”

Yes Dulce.  Now.  Fast!

Dulce snorted confirmation.  At this distance, she could already hear the monkeys.  And they were close.

66

The rolling of the ship caused Alison to stumble and brace against the wall for support.  A few steps in front of her, Neely seemed to have less trouble keeping her balance, but even she stumbled slightly as she reached for Alison.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”  Alison stepped back into the middle of the narrow passageway and continued forward with a hand on each wall.

Together they reached the door at the end, on which Neely knocked firmly.  She glanced anxiously at Alison and cleared her throat.

The door opened moments later with Captain Emerson standing on the other side.  Dressed in a pressed white, short-sleeve shirt, his trim frame filled the opening.  He examined them with his piercing gray eyes.  After a brief moment, he pushed the door open further and stepped back.

“Commander Lawton.  Dr.  Shaw.  Please come in.”

They both entered without a word and walked into a surprisingly roomy cabin, complete with a small dining room table and leather couch.  On the opposite wall stood a chest-high shelf, filled neatly with books and secured behind four small, decorative glass doors.

“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the couch.

The two women complied as they watched Emerson pull out a chair and sit facing them, wearing a dour expression.  “We should be arriving in a little less than an hour.  So I thought we should have a talk.”

Both women nodded in silence.

“This isn’t the first time Langford has commandeered my ship like this.  In fact, he seems to be making a habit out of it lately.  This is, however, the first time he’s done so without giving me much information as to why.  What he did tell me is that you two ladies are looking for something pretty damn important.  And my job, and that of my crew, is to do whatever we can to help you find it.”  He leaned back slightly and crossed his arms.  “Is there some light you two care to shed on this?”

Neely and Alison looked at each other, unsure of what to say.  Emerson continued, shifting his gaze over to Neely.  “I’m sure you would agree that being ordered to relinquish part of my ship to a junior officer, and a civilian, begs for a bit more explanation.”

Neely cleared her throat, nervously.  “Uh, well, the truth is Captain, we’re under orders as well.”

“From Langford?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m not surprised.”  He relaxed slightly and reached up to rub an eyebrow.  “Okay.  Then let me go first.  Some of what I’m about to tell you, you may already know, but some you may not.  Our destination, from the coordinates that I believe Ms. Shaw provided, seems to be pretty damn important.  And not just to us.  Therefore, I’ve been ordered not to loiter.”

Alison looked at the captain with a confused look.  “What does that mean?”

“It means we are not to be here when the sun comes up.”

“What?  Why?!”

“Because there are dozens of satellites poised to snap pictures of this area, and someone may be watching.  And if whatever you’re looking for is as important as it sounds, Langford is not willing to broadcast precisely where we’re looking.”

“H-how long do we have then?”

Emerson glanced at his watch.  “A little less than ten hours.”

“Ten hours?!”  She glanced nervously at Neely.  “Then what?”

“Then we leave.  And head for Guyana where we will anchor and appear to be examining the wreckage of the Bowditch.”

Emerson watched the expression change on Neely Lawton’s face.

“Guyana?”

“I’m afraid so.  I’m sorry, Commander.  It’s the only place the Pathfinder will seem expected.  If we need more time back here, we’ll have to figure out how to do it without being noticed.”

“And how will we do that?”

“Likely with something less noticeable, perhaps a fishing boat.”

“We’re going to steal a fishing boat?”

A smile emerged from Emerson’s mouth.  “No, Ms. Shaw.  We’ll charter one.  I’m aware of your opinion of the Navy, but we’re not that bad.”

Emerson turned back to Neely.  “I know this won’t be easy for you, Commander.  Your father managed to bring us to a draw on the first fight, but it seems the battle isn’t over.  So if you two are going to find what it is you’re after, I suggest you do it before sun up.”

Neely blinked at him, surprised. “With all due respect, sir, ten hours isn’t nearly enough time.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to make the most of it.  Which leads me to my next question.  How can my ship, and my crew, assist you?”

Alison wasted no time.  “Let me talk to Sally and Dirk.  We need time to test with them.  Otherwise, our translation system may not operate correctly in the open water.”

Emerson thought it over.  “You’ll have to wear a harness.  These swells won’t get any better until we can power down.  And even then only moderately.”

“Fine, I’ll wear a harness.”  Alison was growing desperate.  They’d planned to use the entire trip to work out the bugs in the new software code, but outside conditions on the deck had made it impossible.  Instead, Lee was left trying to make some progress through loopback testing, but there was only so much he could do through simulation.

What Alison feared now was that it simply wouldn’t be enough time.  That a badly functioning unit would make their deadline impossible to meet.  And on top of it all, if these plants were like those in Guyana, it wouldn’t just be amazing.  It would call into question something even bigger –– where exactly was the source?  And that was why she needed Dirk and Sally so badly, not to mention a working vest.

Sitting next to her, Neely Lawton felt a very different fear building up inside her.  She was now quietly praying that the plants were in fact what they hoped they were –– not just for the discovery, but because the last thing she was prepared for was revisiting the place of her father’s death.

Emerson was still watching them from his chair.  “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Neely said in a low voice.  “Admiral Langford ordered us not to reveal what we’re looking for…to anyone.”

“He informed me of that as well.  Not exactly as easy as it sounds.  Nevertheless, all personnel aboard have been instructed to provide whatever assistance you need, but they are not to ask any questions outside of their charge.”

Alison turned curiously to Neely, who merely nodded in response to the captain.

“A question, Ms. Shaw?”

She looked puzzled.  “Is that…even possible?”

“A ship-wide gag order?”  The corner of Emerson’s lips curled.  “It happens more than you might think.  Especially on this ship.”  He leaned forward and stood up.  “All right, that should do it.  The ship is yours for the next ten hours.  Whatever you need, we will provide.  But as of this moment, we weigh anchor at zero-five-thirty, sharp.”

“Captain,” Alison said, standing up with him.  “I hate to say this…but I think we’re going to have even less time at the site.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we have to slow the ship down.”

“What do you mean, slow it down?”

“We’re going too fast.”

“Too fast for what?”

“Captain, those coordinates you’ve plotted are home to the largest breeding ground for mammals I’ve ever seen.  We’re about to sail straight through an awful lot of dolphins.”

Emerson stared at her.  “How many are we talking about?”

Alison grinned.  “More than you might think.”

67

They were getting closer.

From inside the tank, Dirk and Sally could both feel it.  Privately, they’d been feeling it for hours.  The gradual strengthening of a sensation deep within their lipid-rich melons used for echolocation.  It was a subtle but unmistakable sensation they’d known since birth.  A feeling which was found only one place on Earth.

Sally spoke directly to Dirk.  “We’re getting closer.”

Dirk nodded and lifted his head above the water in the tank.  “Yes.  I hear them too.”  He dropped back below the water.  “I’m hungry.”

Sally made a slight sideways movement, similar to a human shaking their head.  “You’re always hungry.”

“Because I’m strong.”

Sally laughed.  A moment later, she heard something and rose above the water.  From her viewpoint, she spotted Alison, moving slowly down the outside of the ship.  Accompanying her was a larger human, one they recognized but didn’t know a name for.

The larger human attached something to Alison’s body.  He then held tightly as Alison approached.  She was having difficulty walking.

When she reached the tank, Alison looked down and touched the talking machine on her front.  The bright blue light appeared, followed by a mechanical translation of Alison’s voice.

Dirk.  Sally.  How you?

“We fine, Alison.  How are you?”

Alison gripped the side of the tank to steady herself.

Me good.  Need help.

“Yes.  We are happy for help.  What help do you need?”

Help fix metal.  Practice talk with Alison.

“Yes,” Sally replied.  She watched Alison, wondering what she was trying to do.  “We are happy to practice talk with you.

Alison remained staring at the dolphins for several seconds, wondering what she sounded like to Dirk and Sally.  She finally turned away and used her free hand to press the earbud in tighter.

“Lee, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Ali.”

“Are you connected to the vest?”

“Yes, I am,” Lee answered, typing diligently.  Next to him inside the ship’s bridge, Chris watched Lee’s screen.  “I’m reactivating the new code.  Stand by.”  A few moments later, Lee slapped the enter button and double-checked the screen.  “Okay, I think we’re set.”

“So tell me again how we’re going to do this?”

“You need to have them speak at the same time but saying different things.  That way I can test the filter.  Let’s try to filter Dirk out first, then Sally.  If that works, we’ll try it against more complex translations.”

The ship suddenly rolled hard to starboard and Alison briefly lost her footing.  Jim Lightfoot, standing several feet behind her, began to rush forward as she quickly scrambled back to her feet.

She steadied herself again and shook her head at what Lee had just said.  “How on Earth am I going to communicate that?”

68

By the time the Pathfinder’s powerful engines began to slow, Lee Kenwood had concluded that they’d gotten as much out of their testing as they were going to get.  It was far from perfect, but better than nothing under the circumstances.  However, without more dolphins to test it, he couldn’t be sure how well his “fix” was going to work.  His fear was that it wasn’t going to work well at all.  Tracking a single conversation was one thing, but successfully translating dozens of them simultaneously was another.  And contrary to what most people believed about computers, software bugs were the norm, not the exception.

Lee leaned back and folded his arms, staring at his screen.  The problem was that he had now applied the new, largely untested code and reverting back to the old code would be their only option if it didn’t work.  But that would take time.

Down on the stern, Alison was worried about something else entirely.   Although she and Neely had come back to investigate the plant life covering the ocean bottom, she had the distinct impression Dirk and Sally had come, not just to help, but for a totally different reason.  One they had yet to share with her.

If she was right, Alison had no idea what that reason was.  She stared at Dirk and Sally, both watching her quietly with their heads poking out of the water.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something unexpected was coming.

Alison looked up when several more men appeared on the deck above, led by the ship’s lead engineer, Elgin Tay.  He was shorter than the others but moved with an air of confidence.  One by one the men descended the ladder and moved aft toward her and Lightfoot, swaying back and forth with the rolling of the ship.  She recognized the last figure in line as Chris.

The ship’s forward momentum gradually slowed and was replaced by steep side to side rolling from the ocean swells beneath them.  Lightfoot approached from behind and grasped the rim of the dolphin’s tank for support.  “We can take the harness off if you like.  It’s still going to be a little rocky though.”

“Fine with me.” Alison began unbuckling.  “At least if I fall over now you guys aren’t going far.”

“Very true.”

Tay and the others approached, several putting their own hands on the tank.  “Everyone okay?”

Before she could answer, her vest translated Dirk’s reply.

We good.

Dirk jerked his head, laughing.

Tay laughed with him.  “I guess that means he’s ready to get out.”

Alison’s vest emitted a sharp tone.

“There’s no word for guess,” Alison replied.  “But yes, I think they’re more than ready.”

Ready.

“Okay, but I need to warn you, this may not be easy.  These winches are strong, but they can be difficult to maneuver in conditions this rough.  We don’t normally use them when it’s this bad.  Payloads are too heavy.  If they start swinging around, things can get dangerous in a hurry.”

Alison stared at him, nervously.  “How dangerous?”

The ship suddenly pitched and everyone grabbed something for support.  “Very.”

“We have to get them out.”

Tay gave an understanding nod.  “All right, men.  You heard the lady.  We’re bringing them out.  Careful as we go.”

Within minutes, the giant winch was unchained and its powerful arm extended out over the rear of the stern.  A chain was then wrapped around the arm, holding it in place.  A large, thick sling was retrieved from a nearby compartment.  One of the men tied a control line to the underside of the sling, allowing them to counter any excessive movements due to the ship’s swaying.

Next, the fat cable from the winch’s arm was released and secured to two large metal rings running through the sling’s two center points.

As Tay’s men struggled under the pitching of the ship, Chris managed to make his way to the side railing.  They hadn’t heard it before above the roar of the Pathfinder’s engines, but as those systems were powered down, a familiar sound arose from all directions: the sound of dolphins.

Lightfoot, helping with the sling, abruptly stopped.  He whirled around and spotted hundreds of moving shadows in the water.  “Holy crap!  You guys see that?”

Another of Tay’s men edged closer.  “There’s a ton of dolphins surrounding the ship.”  He turned back just in time to see Alison’s grin.

“Just wait until dawn.”

Once the sling was in the tank, Sally moved forward, easing her sleek gray body into the fabric cradle.  She waited while Lightfoot and another engineer ran their hands alongside, ensuring nothing was restricted and the overhead cable was taut enough to keep the dolphin secure in the event of a problem.

When they’d loaded the dolphins in Puerto Rico, it was done as carefully as possible.  This time would be different.  Their priority now was to get them off as quickly as possible.

Alison’s expression grew increasingly nervous as she watched the men trying to work and at the same time struggling to maintain their own footing.

“Lightfoot!” Tay yelled.  “Man the control line.  The rest of us will help lift her out.  Once she’s out, it’s going to be all winch.”

“Aye.”  Lightfoot gripped it tightly.  “Ready.”

Tay glanced to his man, Smitty, controlling the winch.  “Okay, we’re going to time this with a roll to port.  We lift in the middle and gravity will swing her out over the water.  Lightfoot will slow her down.  Everyone understand?”

Tay nodded.  “All right, here we go.  On my mark.  Ready…wait for the roll.”

The lower deck promptly began to rise again.

“UP!” he yelled.

The winch’s cable lurched and immediately grabbed, hoisting Sally up while those around her steadied the sling.  But the vessel rolled too quickly.  Her heavy body was abruptly pulled out of their hands and swung hard toward the falling side of the ship.  The swing accelerated too quickly, sending her far out over the water and back again.

“Look out!” Tay shouted.  “She’s coming back!”

No sooner had he yelled than the weight of the Pathfinder’s enormous keel overcame the upper sway of the ship and the motion reversed.  Sally’s momentum increased even more rapidly, sending her swinging toward them and missing the rim of the tank by inches.  Her four hundred pound body passed over the tank and smashed into Chris at full speed, throwing him careening into the winch’s thick base.

“Chris!” Alison shrieked and let go of the tank, sliding across the wet deck.  She scrambled to get her feet out in front of her and managed to stop herself between the winch and one of the ship’s stanchions.

She grabbed Chris’s limp body and pulled him closer.  “Chris!  CHRIS!”  Seconds later, Smitty dropped into place on the other side.  He wrapped an arm around Chris’s frame, preventing him from moving.

“Check him!” Smitty yelled.

Alison frantically ran her hands over him until she found Chris’s neck.  She pressed two fingers in, searching.  She felt nothing and moved to the other side of his neck.

“Get the control line!”

Standing above her and Smitty, the other men struggled to secure the control line while Sally slowed and began swinging back again.  The line, now wet, whipped past them, whipping through Lightfoot’s outstretched hand.

Tay watched Sally swing uncontrollably back over the water.

“Wait!  Wait!” he shouted.  “Let her go!”  He twisted around and stared at Smitty, who was trying to right himself with one hand.

“Smitty!” Tay yelled.  “Let it go!”

Smitty’s eyes found Tay’s and looked at him in confusion.  He pushed Chris’s body toward Alison and she grabbed him with both arms.  He then rose onto one knee and steadied himself against the base of the winch.

“Smitty!” Tay yelled again.  “Let it go!”

It took only a moment for Smitty to understand.  He braced himself against the winch and grasped the metal handle controlling its motor.  He watched Sally’s thrashing tail as she sailed toward the water yet again.

When she was far out enough, Smitty released the tension, letting Sally’s momentum catapult her out over the ocean and into the water with a splash.

Lightfoot struggled to the side, where he watched the sling billow in the water just enough for Sally to escape.

Behind him, Tay was already on the phone to the bridge.  “We need medical on the main deck now!”  He turned back to see Smitty raise the cable and empty sling back out of the water.

Within moments, the ship’s doctor and medical assistant burst from a door above them on the upper deck.  They sprinted down the metal grating until they reached the ladders and descended.  Even with the swaying of the ship, they made it to the stern in less than a minute.

Doctor Kanna wrapped his fingers around Chris’s neck, searching.  He then moved to his wrists.  “I’m not getting anything. Get a stretcher down here!”

Tay barked again into the phone.  Two more men appeared overhead carrying a basket stretcher.  They reached the ladder and slid it down to the others.

Tay’s team gathered around as Kanna folded Chris’s arms in over his chest.  “Get him in, quick!”  In a coordinated movement, they lifted and moved him into the basket where thick nylon straps were secured over him.  Alison pulled herself to her feet and watched the men move smoothly to the ladder, raising him back up.   Kanna followed and together they disappeared from Alison’s view.

“You okay?” Tay asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t worry.  Kanna’s one of the best doctors in the Navy.”

“It’s true,” Lightfoot said.  “He’s in good hands.”

Alison nodded reluctantly and blinked.  The clock was ticking and she knew it.  She reluctantly turned back to the large tank.  “Now what?”

Tay took a deep breath.  “We have one more dolphin to get into the water.”

“Not like that again, I hope.”

Tay managed a smile.  “Trust me.  The first time’s never the best.”

Her eyes fell on Dirk with his head still bobbing above the water.   “Are you ready, Dirk?”

Yes.  Ready.

“Okay…let’s do it.”

A moment later, Lightfoot reached down to grab the control line, now hanging over the edge of the steel tank.

The three steadied themselves against the edge as the ship rolled through another large wave.

“This time, don’t fight it.”

Tay and Lightfoot pulled the sling down into the shallow water and held the sides open for Dirk, who promptly circled and slid into place.  Smitty reeled in the cable just enough to pull the thick canvas closed and waited for a signal.  He nodded to Tay and Alison. “Say when.”

69

Their second attempt was smoother.  Working with the roll of the ship, Dirk became a living pendulum, oscillating past the equilibrium position until they had enough momentum for it to carry him beyond the edge of the deck.  Smitty timed the release of the cable perfectly and let Dirk fall into the dark water.  Smoother than the first time, but not something any of them wanted to try again.

And while the team aboard the Pathfinder was exhausted, Dirk and Sally seemed little worse for the wear.  In fact, Alison had a sneaking suspicion that Dirk had actually enjoyed his launch.

With calmer nerves, she and the others went topside to check on Chris.  Standing in front of the wall of glass with Tay and Lightfoot, she was overcome with the memory of being in the exact same spot just a year earlier.

It was the very spot where Alison had the conversation with John that eventually led her to fall in love with the man.

A nervousness suddenly welled up inside her as Alison realized it was the first time she’d let herself admit she was in love with him.  Even to herself.  She promptly pushed the thought out of her mind and stared back through the glass at Chris’s still figure lying on the examination table.  Nervousness was replaced with fear as she watched Kanna lift Chris’s eyelids again and note something on a small tablet.

Behind her, the door opened and she turned to see both Lee and Neely enter, joining Tay, Lightfoot, and herself.

“How is he?!”

“We don’t know yet.”

“What happened?”

“We lost control of the sling trying to get Sally into the water and she swung back straight into Chris.  He flew head first into the winch.”

“Jesus.”  Lee stepped forward toward the glass.  After a long silence, he turned back around.  “God, please let him be all right.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Alison shook her head, holding back tears.  “Just wait, I guess.”

Lightfoot, who had been staring at Chris and the doctor, somberly replied.  “I don’t think there’s much you can do here.”

“He’s right,” Tay nodded.  “As harsh as it sounds, we need to let Doctor Kanna do what he can.”  He glanced at his watch.  “The clock is ticking.”

“I can’t just leave him.”

Tay and Lightfoot looked at Neely, who stepped closer to Alison.  “I think we have to,” Neely said softly.

“It’s true, Ali,” Lee frowned, although also reluctant to leave.  “If the situation were reversed, Chris would have to do the same thing.  We’re all here for a reason and we don’t have much time.”

“And the faster we finish,” added Neely, “the faster we leave…for Chris’s sake.”

Alison continued staring at the glass.  They were right.  Although she still didn’t want to admit it.  She and Chris had been through so much together.  He was her best friend.  The thought of leaving him alone tore at her heart.

But she had to.

***

Alison could barely focus.  And attempting to don their gear under the rocking of the ship left both her and Neely struggling to keep their balance, even with the help of Tay and his men surrounding them.  The light-colored steel deck was covered with a slick sheen of water, making it nearly impossible to stand up for more than a few seconds.  After they were geared up, Lightfoot sat down and began putting his own equipment on.  Getting into the water was one thing, but getting back out was quite another.  It would be Lightfoot’s job to help them back up.

Tay slid a thick headband over Alison’s forehead and turned on the strip of bright LED lights.  “These should last a few hours.  The battery on your head is going to feel a little heavy, but once you’re in the water, you won’t even notice it anymore.”

Alison nodded and tested the airflow from her rebreather, ensuring the oxygen mixture was sufficient.  She then adjusted the rubber seal of her mask around her eyes into a more comfortable position.  Finally, she checked the IMIS unit on her chest to make sure it was powered on.  She took a few deep breaths before looking back up at Tay.

He took her hands and helped her to her feet.  Together, they waited for the next roll before he quickly passed her to Smitty, who stood along the steel railing.   Smitty grabbed her and pulled her across.  Beyond the railing, with the help of her headlamp, dozens of dolphins could be seen converging around the stern.

“Are you good?”

Alison nodded.

“Okay.  Hold on,” he said, before turning to receive Neely.

She stumbled into him with a soft bounce, but managed to latch onto the rail next to Alison.  Her fins went on just as quickly and Smitty moved back to Alison.

“Okay!” he yelled.  “Let’s go to the end.”  He wrapped his arms around her and they shuffled to the end of the railing together.  “We have to wait and go with the roll!  When we’re as close to the water as possible, you take a step to your right and jump!  Don’t be afraid if you feel me give you a little push!  We have to do it fast!”

When Alison felt the starboard side begin its dip, she stepped nervously to the side while Smitty maintained an iron grip from the back.  She was surprised when Smitty launched her forward, sending her head first into the dark ocean with a giant splash.

From between the swells, she watched as Neely stepped to the end of the rail.  She wished she could warn her about Smitty and that first step, but only moments later, Neely hit the water next to her.  Lastly came Lightfoot, splashing on the opposite side of Alison with a natural grace that reminded her he’d been a semi-professional swimmer before joining the Navy.  Even in those conditions, he surfaced as relaxed as anyone she’d ever seen.

“Can you both hear me?”

“Yes,” answered the women in unison.

“Good.  Any problems?”

“Nope.  I’m fine.”

“Me too.”

“All right,” he said.  He motioned to Smitty and turned back to both women.  His full face mask reflected brightly from their LED strips.  “Ms. Shaw, we’re all yours.”

Alison nodded.  “Lee, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Ali.”

“Are we ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be.  I’ve paused the translating on your vest.  When I turn it back on, it will only be filtering for Dirk and Sally to begin with.”

“Okay.”  Alison looked to Neely and Lightfoot.  “Here we go.”

Alison used the button on her scuba BCD to release some of its air and reduce her buoyancy.  She began slowly sinking and watched the waterline pass over her mask and head.  Together the three continued down, eventually adding enough air to end their descent.

Neely and Lightfoot became silent, marveling at the hundreds of dolphins swirling around them.

“Still there, Lee?”

“Like a bad penny.”

She smiled inside her mask.  “Let’s turn it on.”

“Okay.  Here goes.”  Far above them on the ship’s bridge, Lee typed a command on his keyboard and hit the enter key.  Almost instantly, the lines on his screen began dancing as the microphone was reactivated on Alison’s vest and began transmitting wirelessly to the server at Lee’s feet.

However, below the surface Alison heard nothing through her earbuds.  She waited patiently for almost a minute before finally responding.  “Lee?”

“Yes, Ali.”

“I’m not hearing anything. Is it working?”

“It’s because of the filter.  I’m getting an audio feed from your mike, but the server isn’t translating any of it.  Try calling Dirk or Sally.”

“Sally?  Dirk?  Are you there?”

After a moment, the reassuring mechanical voice of IMIS sounded in Alison’s ears.

We here Alison.

They both appeared from out of the darkness and into the bright glow of her lamp.

Behind her, Lightfoot reached out his hand and skimmed the body of several passing dolphins.  “My God,” he said through his microphone.  “I’ve never seen anything like this.  What is this place?”

Neely twisted around to face him.  Her LED lamp illuminated him as if he were suspended in space without gravity.

“That’s what we’re about to find out.”

70

Where Chris?

Alison stared blankly at Sally, her mind returning to her friend.  She could still see him, lying unconscious in the ship’s sick bay.

“He’s resting.”

Sally did not reply.  For a moment, Alison could have sworn a look of doubt passed over the dolphin’s face.  She cleared her throat and answered Lightfoot’s question.

“We originally thought this was a breeding ground, since dolphins tend to seek out protected areas for birthing.  But this is different.  This,” she said, “is literally off the scale.”

She turned to Dirk and Sally, still watching her and strangely quiet.

“Sally.  Dirk.  We’ve come to see the plants.”

Sally surprised Alison with her response.

We know.

Alison began to speak before Sally interrupted.

Follow now.

The abruptness felt strange as she watched the dolphins turn and move smoothly downward with a single thrust of their tails.  The motion was clear and Alison turned to the others while letting more air out of her BCD.  “Stay close.”

The three followed the dolphins in a gradual descent, below the endless field of dolphins and into the darkness, with only a few meters before them lit by their headlamps.  They continued until nothing could be seen above them, lacking even the slightest hint of moonlight.  One by one, they cleared the pressure from their ears and continued downward until it appeared.

The darkness below them gradually began to lighten, first into a field of gray, and then followed by a subtle, strange green glow of phosphorescence.  Finally, the plants began to appear, waving rhythmically in the gentle ocean currents.

“Wow,” Neely whispered.  “It’s beautiful.”

For as far as they could see, beyond even their lamps, the faint green glow continued until finally disappearing again into the blackness.

Dirk and Sally slowed, watching as Alison stopped kicking and let her momentum carry her forward. She was now within an arm’s reach of a large sea whip, sweeping back and forth in slow motion.  The bright light from Alison’s lamp washed over the plant, displaying its branches of polyps in a darker green.

She reached out and touched one of the tubes lightly with her fingertips, rubbing it carefully between her thumb and index finger.

Neely and Lightfoot both slowed beside her.  “This is incredible.”

“How far does it go?”

“Far,” answered Alison.  “Over a square mile.”

“Good God.”

Neely propelled herself forward, gliding horizontally over the vegetation and studying it.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I don’t think anyone has.”

She reached down and brushed her hand over another large plant as it passed silently beneath her.  Awash in the bright light, its streaming tendrils resembling long ribbons and changing colors into translucent oranges and pinks.

“Amazing,” she whispered.

Behind her, Alison turned back to Dirk and Sally, both still floating effortlessly.  “Sally, is something wrong?”

No Alison.  No wrong.

“Then what are you doing?”

We wait.

“Waiting?  For what?”  Alison studied them, waiting for a reply but not getting one.  Instead she got an answer, when three shapes emerged from the darkness.

It was three dolphins.  Larger and older.  The same three she’d met before.  Three “heads” as Sally called them.  Elders.

As the trio neared, Dirk and Sally faded back slightly.

Alison smiled behind her mask.  Perhaps for the first time in all of this, it was exactly what she was expecting.

“Lee, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Ali.  I’m here.”

“I think it’s time to test your new program.”

Topside, Lee squinted at his screen, enlarging the smaller video picture from Alison’s vest.

“Yes,” he replied slowly.  “I think you’re right.”

He switched back to the IMIS control window and typed out a long command.  “Cross your fingers.”  With that, he held his breath and hit the enter key.

His worst fear was realized.  The new software didn’t work.

Below him, Alison’s earplugs screeched with a jumble of high-pitched noise as IMIS listened and tried unsuccessfully to translate hundreds of conversations at once.  Sound carried further in water, which meant everything from any dolphin within earshot of Alison was easily picked up by the vest’s microphone.  All without the video feed, an essential element needed for identifiable translation.  The sheer deluge of noise completely overwhelmed both the processors on Alison’s vest and those in Lee’s small servers.

Alison cringed in pain and immediately yanked the buds out of her ears.  “Lee!  It’s too loud!”

“I know, I know!”  He scrambled to lower the sound.  “Is that better?”  There was no response.  “Ali?  Ali, can you hear me?”

With one headphone back in, she nodded.  “Yes, barely.  But I can still hear all the noise.  Turn it off!”

A moment later, the background noise was gone and Lee’s voice rose again in volume.  “Sorry.  How’s that?”

“Better.  What happened?”

“The software doesn’t work.”

“Crap.  Okay, just turn Dirk and Sally back on.”

“I can’t.  The process is hung on the server.  I can’t stop it without stopping everything.”

“You mean permanently?”

“No, just until I can reboot the system.  Maybe ten minutes.”

Alison looked at the dive watch strapped to her left arm.  “That doesn’t leave much time.  We have to surface soon.”

“I know, I know.  I’m sorry.  But we have no choice.  The only thing that isn’t hung is our radios.”

Alison shook her head and peered at Neely and Lightfoot, who were both watching her.

“Fine.  Reboot.”

71

From their viewpoint, Sally and Dirk were both watching Alison, puzzled.  They didn’t understand why she was not speaking.

“Why are they no speak?” one of the elders asked.

Dirk peered at Alison.  “They talked much before.”  He drifted in closer and could see Alison’s mouth moving inside the glass.  He examined the machine on her chest.  The small light was on.  Dirk circled back toward the other two.  Their mouths were also moving.  “I don’t know.”

The three elders continued floating, waiting.

After a long wait, the silence was broken by Alison’s translated mechanical voice.

-ally Dirk can hear me?

“Yes, Alison.  We hear you now.  You are not talking before.”

Metal broken.  Work now.  Sorry.

Sally watched as the three older dolphins glided in closer.  “You hear us?”

There was no answer.

“Alison, you are hearing?” repeated Dirk.

Metal broken.  Hear Dirk and Sally.  No heads.

One elder seemed to understand and spoke through Dirk instead.  “Ask her why plants.”

“Why do you come back, Alison?  For plants?”

Yes.  Plants important.

“Yes.  You take plants, Alison.  We want to talk.”

Alison turned and nodded at Neely, who was still hovering beside her.

Neely acknowledged and reached down to retrieve a knife from her leg.  She then reached out and cut a small sample from a nearby tendril.  She moved forward and took a piece from another plant, continuing until she had several.  The dolphins followed her curiously.

What talk?

Dirk turned back to her.  “You come back with more friends.  Heads want to know how many others.”

From inside her face mask, Alison watched as the dolphins spoke to each other.  She paused, trying to understand Dirk’s translated question.  The IMIS system was amazing, but it still had limitations.  And the way Alison sounded to them must have been just as challenging.

“How many of us?  Um…three.”

She watched the elders speak again through Dirk.

Not three.  How more?

How more?  Alison thought to herself.  How more what?

“I don’t understand.”

How more peoples?

“How many people where?”

No.  How more peoples there.

Alison still didn’t understand.  What did they mean by there?  On the boat?

“I’m not-” she began to speak but stopped.  IMIS hadn’t caught it.  But she suddenly did.  They didn’t mean there, they meant everywhere!

“You mean how many people are there?”

Yes.  How peoples all there?

Alison smiled, briefly gloating over the realization that she’d translated something before IMIS did.  Yet her face became dour again as she considered the question.  They wanted to know how many humans there were.  In total.  She suddenly found herself nervous.  They understood numbers, but there was no way they could understand billions.  And if they did, her answer was probably going to scare the hell out of them.

“Many,” she replied.

How?

Alison looked to Neely and Lightfoot, both still watching her.  She wasn’t about to lie, but there was no way the dolphins were ready for the truth of just how many humans there really were.  Not by a long shot.

“Many,” she repeated.  She took a breath.  “Like fish.”

Their reaction was unreadable.  The elders simply stared at her with their dark, soft eyes.  It wasn’t worth pointing out that not all people were friends.

The third elder on the right moved closer.  She drifted past Alison’s shoulder, examining the scuba gear.

She say stay.

Alison began to reply when she was interrupted by the beeping from her dive computer.  They were reaching their nitrogen limit.  They needed to get to the surface.  “I cannot stay.  We must go up.”

She motioned to the others and added a brief blast of air to increase her buoyancy.  “I’m sorry, we’re out of time.  We will come back.”

They want stay.

“I’m sorry,” Alison repeated.  “I cannot.  But I will come back.”

It was the last translation Alison heard before reaching the pod of dolphins above her, where the trio stopped and hovered for a few minutes before finally breaching the surface.

Bobbing among the waves, Alison pulled her mask off and inhaled a lung full of fresh air.

She raised her voice so the others could hear her.  “We have to get back aboard!”

Lightfoot nodded and swam forward.  Neely followed, leaving Alison floating behind them.  Something had struck Alison from the moment they’d reached the bottom, but it didn’t register until Dirk mentioned the plants.  She suspected neither Neely nor Lightfoot knew enough about phosphorescence to catch it.  There was something wrong with what they saw.  Bioluminescence caused by the light-emitting pigments and enzymes, luciferin and luciferase, had very distinct hues of green and blue.  But what Alison had just seen below was not the same –– it was a very different hue of green.  One that she’d seen only once before and in a place very far from the ocean.  It had been on top of the Acarai Mountains in South America.  She didn’t notice the first time she’d seen the plants because they were there during the day.

She had to get to a phone.  Immediately.

72

The tropical waters from which Alison was being lifted could not have been more different from those in which John Clay now stood.  Water had collected at the lowest point of one of the mine’s shafts, leaving an ultra-clear basin that was waist-high, stretching over a hundred yards along their path.  And unlike the warm Caribbean, this water was ice-cold.

Carrying his bag on one shoulder and holding his phone and flashlight with the opposite hand, Clay could feel his toes growing numb.  Which meant it must be even worse for Li Na, who was trailing behind him.

The only consolation was that the second half of the tunnel was relatively free of debris, while in the first half they had encountered a number of small cave-ins.  It had slowed their progress considerably, making the icy water a faster, if somewhat painful, change of pace.

They had been underground for hours, far longer than expected.  And unless the remainder of the shaft was in better shape than the way they’d came, their chances of finding a way out anytime soon weren’t very good.

Clay continued pushing forward through the water, maintaining a slow enough pace to keep the ripples to a minimum.  He held his flashlight above his head, allowing him to see the bottom clearly, or at least well enough to spot any surprises.  But maintaining a clear view wouldn’t be a good trade-off if their slow progress resulted in frostbite.

He paused to look ahead and could hear the chattering of Li Na’s teeth.

“Not much farther.”

The teenage girl behind him nodded, but said nothing.

The truth was she had no idea what she was doing.  She felt sure the man in front was trying to help her, but she didn’t know anything about him.  She finally spoke to distract herself from the biting pain in her legs and feet.

“Mister Ishmael.  W-Why did you come here?”

Clay stopped again, momentarily.  He smiled at Li Na under the glow of his light.  “My name is not Ishmael.  It’s John.”

She looked at him with a confused expression.  “Why did you say it was Ishmael?”

He turned back around and continued.  “It’s kind of a joke.”

“Oh.”  She didn’t understand the joke.  “Why did you come here?”

“To find the case you’re holding in your arms.”

In the dark coldness of the cave, she’d almost forgotten she was carrying it and gripped it tighter.  “My father’s case?”

“Yes.  Did your father tell you what was inside?”

“Not exactly.  I wasn’t awake the last time he came.”  After thinking, her expression changed to quizzical.  “You didn’t know I was here?”

“I did.  But only shortly before I arrived.”

“I see.  So you weren’t expecting…all of this.”

Clay grinned again but continued moving.  “No.”

Li Na shrugged and tried to lighten the mood.  “Surprise.”

Clay chuckled.  “Your English is very good.”

“My father was a soldier.  He told me it was important to learn English, like the Americans.  He said someday they would have to learn Chinese.”

“Your father sounds like a wise man.”

Li Na’s voice grew quiet.  “He was.”

They continued in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.  “So what exactly is in this case?”

“I’m afraid it’s a long story.”

“I think we have time.”

“Not enough,” Clay responded.  He stopped again and shined the light forward.  The end was in sight.  In the distance, he could see wet soil rising up from the water.

Several minutes later, they made it to dry ground where Clay immediately dropped his things.  He focused his light on the bag and unzipped it, retrieving the thermal blanket.

“Here.”  He moved to Li Na, who had just sat down against the rock wall, wrapping the blanket around her legs and feet.  “It’ll warm you up faster.”

“Thank you.”

He stood up.  “You’re doing great.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.  I can barely stand up.  I’ve been sick.”

Clay nodded.  “Are you hungry?”  He turned back to his bag and pulled out a small package.  He cut it open with a knife and handed it to her.

“What is this?”  She took the thick, brown plastic bag and turned it over.

“It tastes better than it looks.”

“What’s an MRE?” she asked, reading the letters off the bag.

“Food.  It’ll give you some energy.”

Clay sat down on the opposite wall and watched Li Na take a bite of an unrecognizable chunk.  After chewing, she raised her eyebrows and took another bite.

“Not bad, huh?”

“It’s very good.”

Clay leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  He hadn’t slept more than an hour in the past two days and without much food, he was reaching a new level of exhaustion.

“Where are we going?”

He rolled his head from side to side.  “I’m not sure yet.   First we need to get out of here.”

“How much farther do you think it is?”

“Hopefully not far.  We’re headed back uphill, which is encouraging.”

“What does that mean?”

“Encouraging?  It means…hopeful.  Of course, a little luck wouldn’t hurt either.”

“Do you believe in luck?”

He grinned and closed his eyes.  “I do right now.”

Li Na stared at him in the ambient glow of his flashlight.  It was the first time she’d gotten a good look at his face.  Or at least all of it.  He was handsome, for an American.  With dark hair and a square jawline, he reminded her of someone she might see on television.  He was also tall and very tired.

“Are you in the military?  In America?”

“I am.”

“Like a soldier?”

“Not anymore.  Now I’m more of an investigator.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone who tries to find things out.”

“Oh.”  She took her last bite and folded up the empty plastic bag.  “My father admired the American military.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes.  He said Americans fight for honor.”

“We try to.  Usually.”

“You don’t always?”

“Unfortunately, not.”

“My father said that you-”  She stopped suddenly when Clay’s eyes shot open.

“Shh!”  He held his hand up, signaling her to be quiet.  His eyes stared at her, unmoving.  “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He angled his head slightly.  He heard it again.  They both did.  A distant thump.

Clay was instantly on his feet.  He grabbed Li Na and pulled her up, whipping the blanket from her legs.

“There’s someone else in this tunnel!”

“Are you-”  Clay cut her off, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he whispered.  “We have to go!  Quietly.”

He stuffed the blanket and empty plastic into his bag, hefting it back onto his shoulder.  The rest he gathered quickly before stopping and looking at the case in Li Na’s hands.

They had traveled almost another quarter mile through the tunnel before Clay suddenly lowered his light and turned it off, plunging them into blackness.  He remained still.  “Do you feel that?”

“What?”

“A breeze.”  Clay closed his eyes in the darkness and held his breath.  He was sure he felt it.  An almost undetectable flow of air.  “Come on!”  He turned the light back on and surged forward, with Li Na stumbling to hold on.

A hundred yards farther and Clay stopped again.  This time when he briefly turned off the light, Li Na didn’t need an explanation.  She could see a ray of light in the distance.

“Is that the end?”

“I think so.”

Clay turned the flashlight back on.  Clumps of rocks and dirt littered the floor of the tunnel as they’d seen at the other end.  As they neared, the light grew brighter to illuminate the mouth of the tunnel, largely hidden from the outside beneath a curtain of roots and vines.

Clay stopped at the curtain of vegetation and separated several vines.  There wasn’t much to see.  Just a narrow path outside, almost entirely reclaimed by the forest.

Clay powered off the flashlight, tucking both it and the phone into the pocket on the leg of his pants.

“Stay close.”

He unslung his HK in a smooth motion, raising it to his cheek.  He then took a step forward and let the rifle slowly emerge from between the vines.  His eyes searching left, then right.

He stepped out onto the dry groundcover, crunching under his feet, and listened carefully.  Clay continued slowly and had made it less than ten feet when he froze, causing Li Na to bump into him.

“What is it?”

Clay didn’t answer.  Instead, he turned carefully around and stopped, staring over Li Na’s head.

Lining the tiny hill above them were over a dozen soldiers, all with their rifles raised and aimed directly at Clay.  Off to the side stood Li Qin, with a bandaged right hand, and before him, the terrified teenage boy who had shown them the tunnel.

Clay didn’t move.  Instead, he stared up as Qin smiled and laid his good hand reassuringly over the young boy’s shoulder.

“Drop your gun.”

Clay felt Li Na press in behind him as he studied the other soldiers.  Very slowly, he lowered his HK to the ground.

Qin motioned to one of the men next to him, who then lowered his own rifle.  It was at that moment that Clay removed the phone from his pocket and held it up.

The approaching soldier stopped and studied the phone curiously.  He glanced back to Qin, who was doing the same.  Together they watched as Clay turned the unit in his hand and began typing a message with his thumb.

Qin’s eyes opened wide.  He screamed at the soldier who was now within twenty feet.  “STOP HIM!”

The man exploded into a run, quickly reaching the end of the incline and launching himself forward.

Clay took the full impact and was thrown to the ground while the phone tumbled out of his reach.  The soldier reached it first and brought down the full weight of his boot, smashing the device into several pieces.

73

In Washington, D.C., Will Borger’s heart nearly stopped when he read the single word message from Clay on his own phone.  He stared, disbelieving, at each of the nine letters displayed on the tiny screen.

“Oh no.”

He suddenly jumped when his desk phone rang.  He leaned over his desk and looked at the incoming number.

“You have got to be kidding.”

***

Upstairs, Admiral Langford turned away from his window when his office door opened and Will Borger was shown in by his secretary.  She closed it behind him, leaving him standing awkwardly and facing Langford.

“You wanted to see me, Admiral.”

“I did.”

Langford walked back to his desk and sat on the edge, studying Borger.  He motioned to a chair.  “Have a seat.”

Borger nervously stepped forward and eased himself down.

Langford folded his arms.  “Anything you’d like to tell me, Will?”

“Um…what do you mean?”

Langford scratched his temple, thinking.  “I just had a very interesting conversation.  Care to guess with who?”

Borger tried to smile.  “Not my mother, I hope.”

“Very funny.”

Borger’s smile disappeared.  “Sorry.”

“As insightful as a call with your mother might actually be, the person I just hung up with was Alison Shaw.”

Borger stared back with genuine surprise.  “Alison?”

“Yes.  Do you know why?”

“Uh…no, sir.”

Langford continued studying Borger.  “Do you know where she is?”

“Puerto Rico?”

“She’s aboard the Pathfinder.  Anchored not far from Trinidad.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Langford nodded.  “What’s surprising to me, however, is why Ms. Shaw called me…asking about you.”

“Me?”

“That’s right.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us.  You see, not only is Ms. Shaw in the Caribbean on a very important mission, but now she’s calling me…and asking that I put you on a flight to Trinidad.”

“Trinidad?  What for?”

Langford stared down at Borger with steely eyes.  “I thought you might tell me.”

“I don’t know why, sir.”

“I see.”  Langford sighed and stood up.  He rounded his desk and sat down heavily in his chair.  After some consideration, he pressed his hands together in front of his face.  “Ms. Shaw is with Commander Lawton on the Pathfinder investigating what they believe could be a second location for our mysterious plants.  Like those found by Clay and Caesare in Guyana.”

“What?!”  Borger leaned forward in his seat.

“That’s right.  Another possible location, but this one is underwater.”  Langford watched as Borger remained frozen, thinking.

There were three things going through Borger’s head, each as earth-shattering as the next.  And if it weren't automatic, he probably would have forgotten to breathe.

The possibility of a second location was stunning in and of itself.  Another source producing what could only be described as an evolutionary miracle.  A mutation capable of changing the genetic structure of a living organism, resulting in something mankind had never seen before.  But there was a reason.  A reason that was both logical, and at the same time, utterly jaw-dropping.  The secret which both Alison and Borger already knew.

The Chinese had made the find of the century.  A find that had culminated in the attack on a U.S. naval ship by the Chinese in an attempt to flee with every piece of plant they had managed to gather.  The rest they’d burned.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg.  The Chinese had fled with what they thought was the entire find.  But what they didn’t know was that the source wasn’t the plants at all –– the source was in the water.  Water, highly enriched by something hidden at the top of the mountain.  Something extraordinary.

A vault.  A vault hidden within the mountain, housing thousands, maybe millions, of perfectly preserved samples from an alien biosphere.  And what appeared to be the total sum of another planet’s genetic and cellular history encoded in countless protected seeds…and embryos.

It was an amazing discovery that was nearly beyond words.  But now the idea of Alison discovering a second site left Will Borger completely speechless.  Because a second site could answer a pressing question that Borger had been losing sleep over ever since they discovered the vault.

With the sheer amount of materials needed to construct what was hidden in that cliff, Borger was convinced a ship had been used to transport it.  From very far away.  But the distance involved, along with the speed needed to reach Earth, would have required a level of energy that was formidable on any scale.  To Borger, it meant only one thing: a one-way trip.  And if he was right, it presented the big question that Will Borger couldn’t answer.  Where was the ship?

But maybe Alison’s discovery was the answer to his question…maybe she had found the ship!  By matter of simple deduction, the ship would have had to be destroyed or hidden.  Perhaps dumped somewhere that no one would find.

How Alison had managed to find it, he couldn’t begin to imagine.  But the ramifications of what she may have discovered was far more important in Borger’s opinion than how.

“Mr. Borger,” Langford said, breaking the silence.  “You look like you have something on your mind.”

He slowly nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“Well?” Langford said, his hands still pressed together in front of him.

Borger wanted to tell him.  He’d wanted to since they’d first found it.  But together, he, Clay, Caesare, and Alison were afraid to.  They knew what unleashing such a discovery could do.  To the world.

The power contained in whatever liquid those embryos were floating in was almost beyond comprehension.  Especially in a world that fought wars over far less, and in many cases, on lies alone.

They had kept the secret from Langford and everyone else out of the fear of what would be unleashed onto the world.

And that was the third thing which had caused Borger to freeze in his chair.  It was the realization that only the threat of someone else finding out would make John Clay send Borger the message that he did.

Nine characters.  A single message before his satellite phone lost signal permanently.

TELLNGFRD.

74

M0ngol didn’t like to be bothered.  Not by his colleagues, not by his boss, not even by his friends.  As far as he was concerned, his work was too important to be interrupted, which made the surprise visit by two Ministry of State Security agents all that more irritating.

To him, MSS agents were simply thugs, with Qin being a rare exception.  He was one of the few who truly understood what someone like M0ngol was capable of and respected his abilities.  Others, like the two now escorting the young hacker down an empty hallway, just had no idea.  Together, they were taking him through a section of the building he’d never seen before.  He had only heard of it.

However, unlike most others, M0ngol was only mildly interested to see the place in person.  He had more important things to do than to explain yet again how cyber espionage worked to someone who would never possess the capacity to understand it.

The two thugs on either side of him hadn’t said anything since pulling M0ngol out of his chair downstairs.  Together they walked briskly to the end of the hall and turned right, following another long section which ended at two faceless double doors.  Outside stood two more agents, waiting for them.

When they reached the doors, he watched the four goons exchange looks of importance amongst themselves.  Then the door was opened and M0ngol was ushered inside.

The room was large, and unlike the dreariness of the hallways, it was richly decorated –– particularly with the giant mahogany conference table and high-back leather chairs filling the space.

Inside sat a lone person.  An elderly man looking outward from the far end of the table.  He studied M0ngol carefully before motioning to the table and chair.

“Please sit down.”

The young man complied.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes,” M0ngol replied.  “You’re Yu Xinzhen, Chairmen of the Politburo Standing Committee.  Most people know who you are.”

Xinzhen nodded, studying the young man.  His tone and posture spoke volumes.  He was one of the new generationals, one of the inflicted, as many of the elders referred to them.  Immature and emblazoned by a sense of rebelliousness.  But in the end, little more than children hiding behind a veneer of maturity, with a shroud of gadgets giving them a feeling of importance.  And then there were those like this one, swollen with self-importance and undeserved power, granted by an exploitation of technologies their parents didn’t understand.  That most of the world didn’t understand.

He stared at M0ngol with a sense of bemusement.  “Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.”

“You’ve been working with Qin.”

“I have.”

“And it seems you have uncovered a great deal.”

Xinzhen watched the expression on M0ngol’s face begin to change.  This wasn’t about giving another explanation of what M0ngol was able to do.  This was about what he knew…what he had learned.  An air of nervousness began to form.

“I have discovered some things, as requested.”

Xinzhen nodded.  “As requested.”

“Yes.”

“And by who would that be?”

M0ngol shifted slightly in his chair.  Qin had clearly spoken to the old man, but he didn’t know what was said between the two.  A fleeting thought that left M0ngol wishing he’d recorded Qin’s call.

“Qin.  He asked me to learn everything I could about General Wei.”

“And what have you learned about Wei?”

“Well, we learned that his daughter is alive.”

“And.”

“And that the general may have hidden something with her.”

“And.”

M0ngol stopped.  His mind was racing.  He looked out through the glass door to find the two agents watching him intently.  His confidence was melting.  “Um…and… an American is trying to reach her first.”

To M0ngol’s disappointment, the old man’s expression did not show the faintest hint of surprise.  Instead, he took a deep breath and placed a delicate hand on the table.  “What else?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“My dear boy.  You think me a fool.”

“No!  No, sir.”

“Then tell me.  What else have you been learning about?”

M0ngol swallowed.  “What else?”

Xinzhen rapped his fingers on the table.  Oh, how quickly they shrink.

“I know you’ve been searching for a great many things on General Wei.  Surely you’ve found more interesting facts to share with me.”

“Um…I-”

“You’ve read about our project in South America.”

The young man stammered.  “A little.”

“I think you know more than a little.  Indulge me.”

M0ngol nodded.  “They’re searching.”

A trace of interest appeared in Xinzhen’s eyes.  “Who is searching?”

“The Brazilians.  Now.  They’re searching now.”

“Searching for what?”

“Traces of the plants.  They think there is more there.”

Xinzhen’s eyes focused intently on M0ngol.  “More?”

“Yes.  And they’re also looking for a primate.  A monkey.  They think it may have absorbed some of the plant’s DNA.”

“And they’re searching now?”

“Yes, Your Eminence.  On the mountain.  The Brazilians and a small team from the U.S.”

Xinzhen leaned forward in his chair.  “The U.S. too?”

“Yes.  Friends of the American that came here to find Wei’s daughter.”

The old man’s eyes were now transfixed on M0ngol.  He had been told that all traces were wiped clean on the mountain.  Destroyed.  If the Americans were now there, and the Brazilians, they clearly had reason to believe that something remained.  And if they found it first, there would be no stopping them.

Qin said he had Wei’s daughter and now the case.  But it would mean little if the Americans found their own source.

“Have they found anything yet?”

M0ngol shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Not yet.”

Xinzhen stood up immediately and pointed to the door.  “Leave me at once.”

As the old man watched M0ngol practically run for the exit, he retrieved the phone from his suit’s breast pocket and began dialing.

75

Sixty-three minutes later, Xinzhen ended another call and leaned back into his limousine’s soft leather seat.

They had no choice.  Xinzhen was about to pull the cover off one of China’s largest and well-kept secrets.

As controversial as the Spratly Islands were in the South China Sea, and even with the constant surveillance from the United States, they simply had no choice.

The archipelago was composed of over seven hundred islands and reefs, all uninhabited.  But it was its strategic value as the region’s most important shipping lanes that was the real focus.  Shipping lanes which carried a full sixty percent of the world’s trade traffic.

However, completely ignoring the heated territorial claims from neighboring countries, what China was doing in the middle of the Spratly Islands was nothing short of astonishing.  Instead of fighting over the small, existing island chains, they were building their own.

With dozens of dredging ships in the archipelago’s shallow waters, China had spent the last two years expanding existing reefs into entirely new military islands.  It was a level of progress that stunned the rest of the world.

Contrary to what foreign surveillance assumed about Fiery Cross Reef, the base was now entirely functional.  And inside its giant hangar rested one of mankind’s greatest modern weapons.  A weapon hid well within bombing range of nearly every Pacific Rim country.

The fifteen thousand pound, Russian-built thermobaric bomb was the most powerful conventional explosive device ever created.  It was far superior to the United States’ Massive Ordnance Air Blast weapon, later colloquially called “Mother of All Bombs.”  But Russia’s version was far superior, quadrupling the equivalent TNT and effective blast radius.

And in what was perhaps the greatest irony, Russia’s Father of All Bombs could not be fitted to a traditionally military bomber.  Instead, it had to be dropped from the rear cargo ramp of a larger transport aircraft.  A configuration that could be accommodated by China’s existing prototype Xian Y-20 aircraft, originally commandeered by one General Wei.

Still in the limousine, Xinzhen peered pensively at his watch.  The Y-20 should have just lifted off from Fiery Cross, where it would refuel once in route with the help of an in-flight tanker before the Y-20 headed directly toward South America and the Acarai Mountains.

There was no way to tell whether the Brazilians or the Americans would find any remnants of what the Chinese had taken, but it was not a risk Xinzhen was willing to take.

In mere hours, the entire area would simply “evaporate” under the raw power of a thermobaric blast.  Ensuring that if China would not possess the prize of South America’s superorganism…then no one would.

76

Standing just over a mile from the Y-20’s final target, Steve Caesare scanned downhill into the darkness and a thick patch of trees, looking for any movement.  But beyond the gentle swaying branches and rustling leaves, there was none.  The area was eerily quiet.

“You sure we’re in the right place?”

Tiewater nodded.  “Yep.  Unfortunately, those idiots scared them all off when they shot at ‘em.”

“Perfect.”  Caesare turned around and focused on the shadows of DeeAnn and Dulce several feet behind him.  “Anything?”

DeeAnn knelt down next to Dulce.  The small gorilla was standing still and peering into the darkness.  She wiggled her black nostrils and cocked her head, listening.

Over their headsets, Caesare, Tiewater, and Corso listened to Anderson speaking softly from a lookout behind them.  “They’re coming.”

“How many?”

He followed the first set of headlights through a handheld scope.  “Several trucks worth.  We’d better find that monkey fast.”

“How far away are they?”

“Maybe a mile.”

Caesare looked forward again, back down the slope of tall grass.  “You guys see anything in the trees?”

“Nope.”

Behind them, Dulce turned her head and looked back the way they came.  She suddenly ran in that direction and scampered up a small tree, stopping at the top of one of the branches.

“We’re out of time,” Caesare said.

DeeAnn was about to reply when the speaker on her vest sounded.

That way.

“What way, Dulce?”

There.  She pointed up the hill.  Back the way they came.

“What do you hear?”

No hear.  Smell.

“What do you smell?”

Friend.  He there.

She looked at Caesare.  “You smell your friend?”

Yes.  Dulce quickly dropped to the base of the tree and jumped on the ground excitedly.

Hurry.  We go.  Friend here.

“Are you sure?”

Hurry.

DeeAnn looked at Caesare, who shook his head and turned to Tiewater and Corso.  “I guess we’re going back.  I’ll take Anderson while you two try to lead them away.  If we find Dexter, we’ll head for base and try to find a way out.  Be ready to move.”

The men nodded.

“That ridge runs mostly west and should give you some decent cover,” said Tiewater.  “It’s as far away from the road as you can be without snaking around the back of the peak.  We’ll try to bring them along the road if we can.”

“Good.” Caesare then spoke into his mike.  “Anderson, meet us at the ridge.”

“Roger that.”

Caesare smiled.  “Time to get that exercise, Juan.”

“I’m ready.”

In the darkness, Corso stepped closer to DeeAnn and peered down at the primate standing next to her.  Without warning, he reached out and did something no one was expecting.  He petted Dulce’s head.

“I guess she’s all right.”

The gorilla’s large teeth were all he could see.

77

From her seat in one of the trucks, Becca could barely make out the taillights bouncing in front of them in the darkness.  Salazar’s Lieutenant Sosa rode in the lead vehicle which, like the others, held dozens of soldiers.  All were hanging on tightly as they rocked back and forth over the uneven dirt road.

The convoy came to a stop at a safe distance from the gunfire and all trucks were quickly emptied.  Flashlights appeared everywhere as the men organized into three groups.  Two large forward teams to comb the area and a third smaller team to assist Becca.

The road led almost due north, through a wide pass between two ridgelines, both visible in the moonlight.

Sosa called his men forward and began an advance with both groups, leaving Becca and her own team to follow.  Together, hundreds of boots marched forward, spreading out over a hundred and eighty degrees.  All eyes sharply focused with rifles pointed forward.

Approaching from the opposite direction, Dulce ran through the dense foliage with Anderson right behind her.  Further behind were DeeAnn and Juan, running through waves of branches and trying to keep up behind Caesare.

Even through the trees, they could make out the glow of bright headlights farther ahead.  They slowed, struggling uphill, until an opening provided a brief view –– one that caused DeeAnn to gasp.  She could now see the lights clearly, with dozens of shadowed figures moving out in front.  And some walking directly toward them.

Dulce slowed down further and finally stopped, still listening.  She sniffed the air again and ran several more steps.  When she stopped this time, it was at the base of a familiar rocky outcropping.  DeeAnn recognized it from earlier near the poacher’s camp.  This time they were on the other side and Dulce stood motionless, listening intently.

Anderson moved ahead without a sound and disappeared behind a row of tall bushes.  When he returned a moment later, he held up a hand and then motioned them forward slowly.  They moved in behind him, squinting to see what he was pointing at.

In the distance, part of the poacher’s flatbed truck could be seen.  On the bed remained several wood cages, each containing a capuchin inside.  But what stunned the group was the familiar shape that came into view on the outside.

Covered entirely in gray fur, a monkey stood on the bed of the truck, examining one of the cages.  Not only was he scrutinizing it, but he also appeared to be fumbling with the latch while those in the cages remained oddly quiet.

The gray capuchin shifted his head from side to side, as if studying the door from different angles, then returned to the latch which he tried to undo again and again.

“Oh my God!”  DeeAnn gasped.

“He’s trying to get them out.”

DeeAnn nodded excitedly at Juan.  “It’s Dexter!”

As if hearing his name, Dexter suddenly froze on the truck and looked around.  Seconds later, one of the cages next to him exploded under a hail of bullets, bounced off the truck and tumbled to the ground.  Dexter screamed and disappeared into the tall vegetation.

Caesare and Anderson immediately pushed the others to the ground and raised their own heads, searching.  “Where’d he go?!”

“I don’t see him.”

Their question was answered when the small capuchin erupted from the bush in front of him and hit Anderson square in the chest.  The SEAL scrambled to grab him, but Dexter jumped free and continued running.

“Dammit!”  Anderson had stood up to chase after the monkey when several bullets tore through the nearby plants and ricocheted off the outcropping behind them.

“Down!”

Anderson dropped back to the ground while Caesare watched Dexter disappear into the darkness.

“Get Juan out of here!  We’re going after that monkey!”

Anderson scurried back to Juan.  “Come with me.”

Juan nodded as best he could with his chin still on the dirt.

Next to him, Caesare grabbed DeeAnn and Dulce.

“Stay low!”

With that, he lifted his rifle in front of his chest and pushed them forward into a crouched run.

78

“MOVE IN!  MOVE IN!”  Lieutenant Sosa screamed over the gunfire.

His men were now running forward, fanning out from the mouth of the small pass as Becca scrambled up a small incline behind them to see what was happening.  From several feet up, she could see flashlights combing through a small camp with two vehicles.  She gasped when she spotted captured capuchins on the back of the truck.  Further away, several men used their lights to pursue something or someone into the foliage.

To her left, there was more shooting and yelling near the base of the ridge.

She jumped down and yelled, running toward the camp.  “Hurry!”

Along the ridge, Juan Diaz nearly froze under the onslaught of gunfire until Anderson forced him forward.  When his head rose too much, Anderson reached forward and slapped it back down.  “Low!”

Keeping on their hands and knees, they scrambled up the incline to a pair of large rocks, where they hid.  Anderson twisted back around and peered into the darkness.  “Shit.  They’re coming.”  There was no other cover for another twenty yards, far too long to be exposed.

“You see those rocks up ahead?”

“Yeah.”

“When I tell you, you run like hell and get behind them.  Off your knees but stay as low as you can.  And when I say run, I mean run.”

“Okay.”

“We need that cover.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you.  First, I gotta slow these guys down.”  He glanced back again.  “Okay, you ready?”

“Not really.”

“Good.  Here we go.  On the count of three.  One…two…three!”

All at once, Juan sprung to his feet and moved as fast as he could with his head down.  He kept his focus on the rocks, reflecting brightly in the moonlight, and hoped there was nothing in the way to trip him.

When Sosa’s men reached the rocks, they approached cautiously from both sides, guns ready.  The spot was empty.

Caesare paused when he heard the distinct sound of Anderson’s HK416 echoing off the walls of the ridge.  A dozen shots were heard before the HK fell silent.  Then another burst.

He continued moving.  More shots from the Brazilians, followed by silence, told him Anderson was reloading.

Several rounds ricocheted near Caesare and he ducked lower.  “Get down!”  He growled and stepped behind a wide tree trunk to return fire.

He spotted two silhouettes and fired four more rounds.  Both shapes disappeared.

“Stay close to me.”

When there was no answer, Caesare spun around to find DeeAnn and Dulce both gone.

“Damn it!”

Farther to the north, Corso watched more men descend across the dirt road while Tiewater knelt behind him, wiring several sets of blasting caps as fast as he could.  He twisted the blue and yellow wires into small groups and then connected them to their own timing wires.

Anderson’s voice came over their radio between shots.  “I could use that diversion!”

“We’re working on it,” Tiewater said.  He moved his fingers faster.  When finished he double-checked his work, tracing the wires out with his fingertips.

“Good?”

He nodded to Corso.  “Good.”  He set the timer and dropped the first set.  Tiewater then turned to see Corso disappear into the brush, dropping a second set before running in the opposite direction and letting another one go every hundred feet.

“Here we go…” Tiewater called into his microphone.  He waited for Anderson to stop firing, then set off the first round of caps.

From that distance, they sounded exactly like gunfire.

Sosa and his men stopped and turned toward the sound of shots farther to their right.  The blood drained from the lieutenant’s face.

“Crossfire!  Move back, move back!”

A crossfire was almost impossible to defend against, and his men were now too far out.  He had only minutes to pull them back and regroup.

“MOVE BACK!” he yelled again.

It was then that two of his men fell to the ground.

Higher on the ridge, Juan threw himself behind the next cluster of rocks.  He waited several seconds for Anderson.  When he didn’t show, Juan took a deep breath and continued into the darkness.

Almost a hundred yards behind Juan, Anderson grunted and fell to a knee.  He gritted his teeth and tried to speak.

“I’m hit!”

He pulled back his jacket and found the wound, just below his left rib cage.  A ricochet.

Anderson lost his balance and twisted down onto both knees.  He touched the wound, then withdrew his hand.  It was covered in blood.

“Shit.”

He was bleeding too fast.

“Where are you?!” Caesare called into his ear.

He tried to catch his breath.  “On the other side of the camp.  Maybe fifty yards.”  He turned and tried to look up the hill before inhaling again.  “Juan is trying to get back-”

He stopped again, suddenly overwhelmed by the searing pain in his stomach and back.  He struggled to stay on his knees.

“I’m down,” Anderson repeated in a softer voice as he sank to the ground.  “I’m down…”

On the opposite side of the pass, near the top of the ridge, Juan reached their base.  And in the darkness, he collapsed with relief onto his knees.  He fought to catch his breath.

He never noticed the Brazilian soldiers waiting for him.

79

Slowly, John Clay’s eyes opened to find himself kneeling on a cold concrete floor.  His arms were outstretched, each tied with a rope, keeping his upper body suspended from something above.

It was the pain in his shoulders that forcibly pulled him back into consciousness.  He had no idea how long they had been supporting most of his weight.  He rose on his knees, attempting to alleviate the searing agony, and blinked several times to clear his vision.

The place appeared to be a warehouse with concrete walls, matching floor, and wide overhead beams supporting a long metal roof.

He noticed a figure slumped on the floor against a nearby wall.  It wasn’t until Clay was finally able to focus that he recognized the body of Jin Tang, the man who’d helped him from Hong Kong.   Tang’s dark eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling, while a thick line of blood dried on his face.  Both of his feet appeared to be twisted in the wrong directions.

A young Chinese soldier stepped into view and noticed Clay’s open eyes, then he promptly shouted to someone behind him.  A few moments later, the image of Li Qin stepped in front of Clay and peered at him curiously.

Clay stared back for a moment before dropping his head.  There was a small pool of blood on the floor beneath him.  Drops farther out that indicated he had been bleeding from his head somewhere.

Qin crossed his arms and smiled at Clay.  His injured hand had now been professionally dressed.  “Finally, you’re awake.”

Two more soldiers appeared and stood quietly behind Qin.

“I was afraid at first that they’d killed you.”

Clay opened his mouth to speak and immediately felt a jolt of pain in his jaw.  “Lucky me.”

“I guess Navy SEALs come with a certain amount of durability.”

Clay didn’t answer.  Instead he simply watched, weakly, as Qin stepped closer, examining him.

“And a sense of humor.  Mister John Clay.”

“Where’s Li Na?”

“Oh, don’t worry.  We’ll get to her.  As you can see,” Qin said, stepping to the side and turning to view the body.  “We’ve already gotten to your friend, Tang.  Unfortunately, he was not as durable.  Or as helpful.”

Qin motioned to another soldier who appeared and handed Li Na’s metal case to him.  He took it and cracked it open, looking inside.  “You’ve come a long way for something so small.  But now, as you can see, it’s mine.”  He closed the case again.  “I know what you’re thinking.  You’re upset you lost it.  It’s understandable.  But you should be happy.  Because this case is now your relief.  Your salvation.”

Clay’s voice was low.  “Yippee.”

Qin placed it on the floor and put his hands behind his back.  “Tell me what it is inside, and I’ll make the ending for you…comfortable.  If not, we’ll all make this the worst exit you can possibly imagine.”

Clay struggled to focus on Qin through the pain.  He tried to raise one of his knees to stand but groaned and slumped back to the floor.  His leg was broken.

“I wouldn’t try standing if I were you.”  He watched Clay drop his head again.  “You have to know that this will be your last day alive.  There’s no way back.  And if your own death isn’t enough of an incentive for you, let’s not forget our young Li Na.”

Clay closed his eyes.  His breathing was shallow as he tried to think through the pain.  The man was right.  There was no way out.  Even if there were, he could barely move.  Tang was dead.  And Clay had no link back to Borger.  Whatever help he might provide Li Na would have to be through his cooperation.

If Qin didn’t understand what was inside the case, he would soon.  They would analyze it and figure it out.  Unless Qin didn’t want to.  Analyzing meant relinquishing the case and its contents to someone else.  Which meant they too would find out.

Qin clearly wanted to know what was inside, but Clay doubted Qin would even let these two soldiers remain in the room.  A secret like that would be hard to keep.  If anyone understood that, Clay did.  And the best secrets were best kept only when everyone else was dead.

Qin would find out, one way or another.  But did the man know that some of it was already in Li Na?  It was possible he still hadn’t made the connection with Li Na yet.  Which would leave him only what was left in the case.

Clay wasn’t sure how much Qin knew, but he suspected the man didn’t understand exactly what he had stumbled onto.  Wei’s discovery was one thing.  What was still in South America was another.

But some secrets were too important to give up.  Some were even worth dying for.  What General Wei had sent from South America was something everyone would eventually go after.  Something millions would kill for, whether they believed in its effects or not.  And now, there in the warehouse, the only person standing in the way of all of it…was Clay.

With his eyes closed, he never saw the anger suddenly swell in Qin’s eyes nor his step forward driving a boot into Clay’s midsection.  He only felt the impact when two of his ribs broke.

Clay’s eyes shot open and rolled back as he gasped in agony.

“Tell me!” Qin yelled, just inches from his face.  “Tell me, or I promise you, this is just the beginning.”

Clay fought again to focus through the pain.  To focus on Qin and his cold dark eyes.  He had to stop it here.  It was bigger than Clay.  Bigger than Li Na.  This was about the future of the human race and a potential level of greed unmatched throughout all of history.

He continued staring at Qin, trying to come to peace with the inevitability of his own death.  And the hope that it would serve a bigger purpose.  He thought first of Caesare, then Borger and Admiral Langford.  They would have to keep the secret safe now.

Finally, as the pain once again began to overwhelm his concentration, Clay’s thoughts focused on Alison.  A girl unlike any other he’d met.

And the woman he was sure he would have spent the rest of his life with.

80

There was no other way to describe Admiral Langford’s face than “frightening.”  With eyes ablaze and teeth clenched, he stormed down the wide hallway with a look that made several people jump out of his way.  His feet marched deliberately over the carpeted floor, heading for a large office with closed doors.

The secretary outside leaped to her feet but was too late.  When he reached the double doors, Langford forced them open, slamming them hard against the inside walls.

In the middle of the room, standing next to a large window, CIA Director Andrew Hayes barely looked back over his shoulder.

“You’re wasting your time, Langford.”

“The hell I am!”

Behind them, Hayes’ secretary nervously grabbed both doors and pulled them closed.

The director turned around.  “It’s not going to happen.  You don’t have authority over me or this agency and you know it.  Besides, you’re not the first one to storm in here and start making demands.  It didn’t work for them and it sure as hell isn’t going to work for you.  I suggest you turn around and leave with whatever credibility you have left.”

“I don’t give a damn about credibility!  But mark my words, you are going to do this.”

Hayes smirked.  “Is that so?”  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and smugly returned to his desk, which he circled before sitting down.  “According to who?  You?  You barely have the authority to get inside this building.  We’re everywhere, Admiral.  We know everything.  Including all about the disappearance of your man Clay.  And I’m not about to compromise the power of this entire agency, of the entire country, to save your boy scout.”  He picked up a mug from his desk and took a sip.  “It’s too late anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Neither do you.  But we’re not going to give everything up for someone who’s probably already dead.”

Langford leaned angrily onto the desk.  “Now you listen and you listen good-”

“No!” interrupted Hayes.  He bolted out of his chair and stared icily at Langford.  “In case you’re not aware, this is a big goddamn deal!  I told you it’s NOT going to happen, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it!”

They both stood, staring at each other in silence, when the phone on Hayes’ desk beeped.   The voice of his secretary spoke over the intercom.

“Sir, I have an important call for you.”

Hayes kept his eyes on Langford.  “Take a message.”

“Um, I can’t, sir.”

The director peered down at his phone.  “What the hell does that mean?”

She didn’t answer.  Instead, she simply said, “I’m putting it through.”

The next voice was deep and immediately recognizable.  “Hayes, it’s Carr.  Is Langford already there?”

The look on the man’s face froze.  It took him several seconds to reply and he did so while glaring across his desk at Langford.  “Yes, Mr. President…he’s here.”

“Good.  Listen to me very carefully…”

81

In 1993, the Department of Defense established a set of directives and reporting protocols designed to allow rapid response to national incidents and emergencies.  Three of these directives established a list of emergency flag words capable of activating the highest level of command structure within both the Department of Defense and National Command Authority.

One such flag word, Pinnacle, was designed to launch the highest level of military command to immediately preserve the security and national interests of the United States.  Another accompanying code known by many was called Broken Arrow.

However, unlike the rest of the major military commands, the CIA was not bound by the Department of Defense directives.  Instead, the agency maintained a set of its own protocols, designed as emergency responses within its international intelligence network.

Over the years, several such protocols had been activated though limited in scope.

But one had not.

One protocol, known only by the cryptonym of CLOWER was the international equivalent of the DoD’s “Pinnacle.”

And Andrew Hayes would be the first Director in CIA history to invoke it.

Once authorized, CLOWER took less than fifteen minutes to activate.  The signals were sent in a fraction of a second, but the logistics were immense.  Every warden, ambassador, and CIA agent in the world was on their phone or computer, arranging for the immediate evacuation of thousands of CIA operatives.  Agents who had infiltrated nearly every branch of foreign government throughout Central Asia, along with their spouses and children, had less than one hundred and twenty minutes.  A mere two hours to make it to an airport or an American embassy where passports and travel documents would be waiting.

Two hours…because once their covers were blown, the ripple effect would be unstoppable.

82

John Clay looked wearily at Qin and finally nodded his head.  Immediately, Qin dismissed his soldiers and waited impatiently for them to leave the room.

Through the beatings, he’d watched with satisfaction the precise moment when Clay finally broke.  Every man had his limit.  Something Qin knew through experience in the MSS.  No one could last forever.

He knelt down in front of Clay and pulled his head up by his thick dark hair.  “I will show you mercy,” he whispered.  “You have my word.”

He watched as Clay tried to nod again.  His lips trembled and his eyes rolled back from the pain.  He tried once more but still couldn’t respond.  The American simply couldn’t concentrate through the agony.

Qin exhaled and retrieved a knife from his belt.  He then grabbed one of the ropes suspending Clay and began cutting through it.  When he severed the last strand, Clay’s right side collapsed, swinging sideways.  His body now dangled by a single rope.

“Better?”

Clay came to a stop and hung there motionlessly.  Only his chest moved while he breathed.

“Now tell me,” Qin said, squatting down again.  “What is in this case?”

Clay whispered.  “A microorganism…stops aging.”

Qin’s eyes widened.  “It stops aging?”

Clay nodded weakly.

The MSS agent stared at Clay in disbelief.  That’s what Xinzhen was after?  An organism that would stop him from aging? That’s what it was all about? He looked back to Clay.  “This organism is from the plants in South America?”

“Yes.”

An astounded Qin shook his head and stood up.  It was more than he had dreamed.  And yet it all made sense ––  why Xinzhen wanted it so badly, why he told him so little about what General Wei was doing, and why Wei tried to hide it after destroying the cargo ship on its way home from Guyana.  Xinzhen and Wei had hidden their discovery from nearly everyone, and even murdered the soldiers they forced to excavate it.  God, it all made sense.

Qin shook himself from his trance and watched Clay’s nearly lifeless body as it hung from one arm.  His still eyes staring at the floor.  He was practically dead already.

Qin withdrew his gun and gripped it carefully in his opposite hand.  He was surprised at the man before him.  One of the U.S. Navy’s legendary SEALs.  He was tough, but not as tough as Qin had expected.  The man simply did not live up to the reputation.  Where was the American arrogance now?

He’d known men, lesser men, who had lasted longer than this American.  It was truly emblematic of the waning might of a once great nation.  The might of the United States was fading.  And the rise of China was just beginning.

He stepped closer to Clay and shook his head in pity.  “I gave you my word.”  With that, he raised his left hand up and pointed the gun.

Hanging by one arm, Clay remained still.  The pain was overwhelming, making it hard to think.

His situation was nearly hopeless.  Which meant this was no time for bravado.  Instead, he had to outwit Qin.

The first priority had been to find a reason for them to be alone.  The second was to get Qin as close as possible.  And then to get an arm free.  What came next was the last thing Qin ever expected.

Almost every part of his body screamed in pain.  But Clay was not motionless because he couldn’t move.  He was motionless for a very different reason.  He had been quietly testing each muscle to determine just how much strength he had left.

He didn’t have enough to get out alive, but he might have enough left in the very last of his reserves for one last effort.

To take Qin with him.

83

What Qin didn’t know as he pointed the gun at Clay was that the American was waiting.  For the right moment.  Because when Clay finally moved, it came as a complete surprise.

In one motion, Clay slapped the gun from Qin’s hand and suddenly leaped forward on his broken leg.  In a blur, his arm rocketed up, gripped the man’s throat like a vice and squeezed.

Qin’s gun rattled across the concrete floor and his eyes bulged in shock, still trying to comprehend what had happened.  But not before he got out the beginning of a scream.

It was a sound that Qin’s men heard from the other side of the door.

An already sinking Clay watched them emerge while the last of his energy began to fade.  With clenched teeth, he squeezed harder, giving every last ounce of strength he had left.  He ignored the soldier sprinting toward him with the butt of his gun raised.  Instead, he tried to tighten one last time before his arm was knocked away and he fell back to the floor.

Qin stumbled back, gasping for air.  His frantic eyes searched the floor.  When he couldn’t find his gun, he pointed at Clay and wheezed.

“Shoot him!”

Several feet away, the squad’s leader frowned, and kept his eyes fixed on Clay.  “We should keep him alive.”

“I said shoot him!”

“That doesn’t seem wise,” retorted the soldier, defiantly.

At that moment a sharp tone sounded.  All eyes turned to the squad leader who ripped open a secret pocket, pulling out a small electronic pager.

He stared at the code on the tiny screen in stunned disbelief.  He read it again carefully before raising his eyes back to Qin.

“What the hell is that?”

The man stared down at Clay for a long moment.  Without a word, he raised his gun and pointed it.  Not at Clay, or even Qin, but at his own men.  He then made a motion with his head.  “Guns down.”

All six men stared at him in confusion.

“I said guns down!”

They blinked at him, still stunned.  But one by one each man dropped his rifle loudly onto the floor.

Qin was just as confused.  “What are you doing?”

The squad leader reached out, grabbing Qin by the collar.  He threw him, stumbling, into his own men.

“Now back up!”

They each took several steps backward.

It was then that the leader moved closer to Clay, with his barrel still trained on the others.  When he spoke, it was in perfect English.

“You, my friend, are one lucky son of a bitch.”

They were the last words Clay heard before the blackness took him.

84

Far over the Pacific, the drogue basket detached from the second plane. Aboard the giant Chinese bomber, the Hose Drum Unit began the slow process of reeling it back in.

The Xian H-6U was a modified version of China’s powerful H-6 bomber.  The plane was first detected by U.S. spy satellites in 1971, forcing China to reveal that they had already built three dozen of the aircraft, and stunning the world.

Almost fifty years later, several of the aged bombers had been converted from flying fortresses to flying tankers.

Once the drogue basket had fully detached, the much larger and now fully fueled Y-20 cargo plane began its fateful climb.

After several thousand feet, the monstrous Y-20 adjusted its flight path and headed for Venezuelan airspace — the only country left standing between the aircraft and its final target.

85

Caesare finally reached Anderson and knelt down beside his body –– positioned lifelessly on his side with one hand still clutching his rifle.  He’d fought right to the end, judging from the numerous bodies of Brazilian soldiers littering the area.  Caesare checked his pulse, and finding nothing, gently rolled him back over.  He peered up at Corso as Tiewater approached behind them.

“They’ve got Juan.”

Caesare sighed heavily.  They could still hear occasional shouts in the distance.  The fight hadn’t lasted long as the Brazilians were clearly not expecting a SEAL team on the other side.  But it wasn’t enough to reach Anderson or Juan in time.

“Now what?”

Caesare stood.  He took a deep breath and listened to the sounds of Otero’s men fortifying their positions.  His answer felt unnatural.  “We do our job and leave.”

Corso frowned in the darkness.  “You’re joking, right?”

“No.  As bad as we want to, our mission is not to take these bastards out.  Our mission is still to find that monkey and get the hell out of here.”

Tiewater’s voice was low and angry.  “I say we take them out and then go.”

“We can’t risk it.  Things could go sideways, fast.  It’s going to be hard enough finding Juan.”

“I’ll get him,” Corso said.

Caesare nodded.  “I’ll go with you.”

“Negative.  You’ll just slow me down.”

Caesare smirked.  “I’m not that old.”

“No offense, sir.  But I can get in faster alone.”

Tiewater nodded.  “He’s right.  Besides, someone needs to locate DeeAnn and Dulce.  Which is probably you.”

Caesare didn’t like the way this argument was going.  But he couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him.  “Fine.”  He nodded at Tiewater.  “Corso gets Juan, you find some transportation, and I’ll find the others.”

“My pleasure.”

“With any luck you might be able to give Corso here a nice diversion.”

“But wait for my go,” Corso said.  “Until I find out what condition Juan is in.  We might need a ride.”

Tiewater smiled.

“When you find something,” Caesare said, “head north, down that way.  We’re taking the other road out of here.”

***

Captain Salazar was livid.  He ended another tirade, directed at his lieutenant, and clenched his fists in frustration.

Thirty percent.  THIRTY PERCENT!  He’d just lost thirty percent of his men in less than an hour!  What in God’s name happened?

Sosa tried to explain, but it was too late.  Salazar wasn’t interested in excuses.  He wanted answers.  Like how such a large force made it up here before they did?  He was expecting a few men.  But clearly there were more out there.  And to make matters worse, his men evidently didn’t see a damn thing!

Salazar put his hands on his hips, thinking.  “Where’s Becca?”

“We don’t know.  We lost track of her and her detail.”

“Jesus,” Salazar muttered, rolling his eyes.  “Did your men do anything right?”

Sosa’s reply was indignant.  “We killed one of them.”

“Dozens of men lost for only one of theirs.  Doesn’t exactly make me feel better.  Another fight like that and it’ll be over.”  He shook his head and dismissed Sosa.  “Go get me some damn answers.”

Sosa nodded but didn’t bother replying.  Instead, he walked away and crossed through several lines of men until he reached the base of a large tree.  Sitting on the ground, tied to the trunk, was the dark outline of Juan Diaz.

Sosa took a flashlight from one of his men and approached, shining the beam into the young man’s face.

Juan squinted and turned away as Sosa stopped and stared down at him.

“Who are you?”

“M-my name is Juan.  Juan Diaz.”

“Why are you here?”

Juan resisted, saying nothing.  Until he watched Sosa withdraw a handgun and lay it across his knee.

“I-I was asked to come.  I’m an engineer.”

“An engineer, out here?  Why?” Sosa asked.  His accent was strong, leaving Juan struggling to understand.

“To fix the computer.”

Sosa frowned.  What computer would be out here?  Either the kid was lying or the enemy had equipment he wasn’t familiar with.

“Who brought you here?”

Juan hesitated again, long enough to hear the slide action on someone’s gun.

“I came with a group…of SEALs.”

“SEALs?”  Sosa’s voice changed.  “How many?”

“Two dozen,” Juan lied.

Sosa bolted to his feet.  As he turned to leave, Sosa’s eyes met with Otero’s man, Russo, now standing behind him.  If Sosa was nervous at the sound of Navy SEALs, Russo looked as though his heart just stopped.

He had been right all along.

***

Juan sat on the soft ground, frightened and watching the dark figures of Otero’s soldiers moving back and forth.  They were talking excitedly in Portuguese, and judging from all the gunfire, it didn’t appear as if things were going very well for them.  Which gave him at least some trace of satisfaction.

He’d been on the ground for almost an hour and kept trying to change his position to keep the circulation from being cut off, but the tingling in his feet returned.  He was losing feeling.

The headlights of another military truck appeared, easing to a stop at the end of the line where several soldiers were waiting.  They quickly jumped in and began unloading a number of large crates, followed by an even larger piece of equipment.  It was lowered carefully to the ground, and the thick canvas cover was removed to reveal a powerful-looking piece of artillery.  Juan watched helplessly as the men disappeared into the darkness with the giant weapon and its remaining pieces.

When the sound of the men faded, Juan suddenly heard a soft crunching sound behind him.  He twisted his neck in an attempt to see who, or what, was approaching.  There was nothing but a dense wall of bushes and trees covering most of the hill.  Then he noticed something move and peered harder into the darkness until he saw two small dots of white.  When they blinked, he froze.  They were eyes.  And they were watching him.

He gasped and turned back around in a panic.  In desperation, he dug his feet into the dirt and tried to move around the trunk of the tree.  But the ropes were too tight.

“Help!”

There was no response.  He had opened his mouth to yell again when a low voice stopped him.

“Shut up!” it growled.

Juan twisted back again and looked closer.  The eyes were still there, yet the more he focused, the more he could see the outline of a dark-colored face.  A face painted black.

It was Corso, hiding motionlessly in the bushes.  “What the hell are you doing?”

Juan looked back to make sure no one was coming, then whispered loudly to Corso.  “I thought you were a wild animal.”

“Well, I’m not,” Corso retorted.  “So shut up.”  He looked back and forth, examining the area.  “Can you walk?”

“I’m losing some feeling, but I think so.  What are you going to do?”

Corso shook his head.  “I have absolutely no idea.”

Several hundred yards away, Tiewater was watching from the front of the line.  Further back, he could see a large base being set up, with several soldiers running tripwire.

They had to move quickly.  Once a solid perimeter was established, getting in and out would be much harder.

Tiewater watched several men run past the vehicles.  The truck in front was the most logical option.  It wasn’t as big, but it would be the easiest to drive out if he could get it started.  It was too new to hotwire which meant he needed to locate the keys.  Because unlike the movies, no one kept their keys stashed above the visor.

“Talk to me, Tiewater,” Corso’s voice whispered in his ear.

“I’m looking for keys.”  He watched a soldier approach and stop at the vehicle.  He opened the back and retrieved a large bag.  He hefted it over his shoulder and closed the door before marching back up the hill to the other side.  “Hold on.  I may have the driver.”

Tiewater continued watching as the soldier reached the top and dropped the bag on the ground.  After briefly disappearing, the man reappeared and began heading back down toward the truck.

“How fast can you get Juan out?”

“Pretty damn fast.  But it has to happen now.”

“Okay.”  Tiewater looked back and forth before stepping out of the trees.  “I’m taking this guy.  Get ready.”

Corso slid a knife out and gripped it tight in his hand.  “I’m ready.”

“Ten seconds…”

When the soldier reached the Humvee, he opened the back again and leaned in.  Tiewater was already moving.  Running low and smooth from the trees, he covered the distance quickly, stopping at the driver’s door.  He could see the man searching for something beneath the tailgate’s overhead light.

Tiewater raised his gun and began to move when he glanced through the side window.  Sitting inside, in the center console between the two front seats, were the keys.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Tiewater muttered to himself.

“What?”  Corso replied over the headset.

“Shh!”  Tiewater whispered.  He remained frozen at the door, waiting until the man behind the truck pulled something else out and reached up to close the gate.  Without looking up, he turned and continued back up the hill.

Tiewater quietly opened the driver’s door and reached for the keys.  He examined them and slid the larger key into the ignition.  With a slight turn, the dash lit up.  He immediately turned it back off.

“We got wheels!  GO!”

With that, he slid into the driver’s seat and laid his rifle across on the passenger’s side.  He pulled the door closed until it made a soft click.  He then kept the key in the ignition and slid down in his seat as low as he could.

No sooner had Tiewater given him the go than Corso rushed out of the brush and dropped behind Juan.  He worked quickly with the knife, cutting the lines, then peered out over Juan’s shoulder.  No one was watching.

“Let’s move!”

He jumped up and yanked Juan onto his feet, pulling him back into the shadows.

“Stay on my heels!” was all Corso said before darting back the way he came.  Juan scrambled and ran after him.

They had made it less than fifty yards before they heard a yell behind them.  Neither of them knew what the words meant, but there was no doubt as to the message.

“Hurry!” Corso barked.

Juan ran harder, but in the darkness, he caught his foot on something hard and tumbled.  He scrambled to his feet only to be met by bright lights shining up the slope.  One of the lights found both him and Corso, followed by more yelling.  Then gunfire.

Tiewater lifted his head in the Humvee just enough to see outside.  At the top of the small hill, the driver and several other soldiers looked in the direction of the gunfire and ran toward it.

Tiewater placed one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the key.

“Can you make it?”

“I don’t know.”  From his position, Corso rose up and shot into the lights, dropping two of the men.  But there were too many.  Bullets passed overhead and he threw Juan down before firing another burst.

Back in the truck, Tiewater suddenly noticed movement in the side mirror of the Humvee.  Several men were running up the line of vehicles, toward the front.  He continued watching as one of them stopped and climbed into a large truck, two vehicles back.  The rest of the men continued running and passed the front vehicle before turning back around.

Behind him, Tiewater heard the larger truck roar to life and saw its bright headlights shining out over the dirt road, illuminating the soldiers now waiting for it.  It backed up and began edging its way out of line.

“Okay, we may have a problem.”

From further down the mountain, Caesare’s voice broke in.  “What is it?”

“They’re moving their trucks.  We might be about to get blocked in.”

Caesare stopped running and listened.  “Corso, how close are you?”

Corso fired off several more rounds and pushed Juan forward, ahead of him.  “Not very.”

Caesare shook his head in the darkness.  “Tiewater, we need those wheels.  Get out of there while you still can!”

Tiewater paused.  “Corso?”

“Go!” growled Corso.  “We’ll get there on foot.”

Tiewater shook his head.  Their situation was deteriorating quickly.  He sat straight up in the car and twisted the key hard in the ignition.  The soldiers, still standing several yards in front of him, were startled to see the Humvee’s lights come on.  They stepped forward, trying to peer through the front windshield.

In one motion, Tiewater dropped it into gear and mashed the accelerator down.

86

Caesare finally stopped and scanned the area around him.  A large hill climbed to the right and he caught a glimpse of movement just before he saw the muzzle flashes.  Bullets ripped past him and he dove to the ground, rolling behind a group of small trees.  He came to a stop on both elbows and fired back between the narrow trunks.

Two more rounds tore into the tree just above his head, after more muzzle flashes.  He fired back, estimating where the outline of the shooter would be, and everything fell silent.

***

DeeAnn stopped when she heard the shots behind her.  After it went quiet, she turned and called forward again.  “Dulce!”  She stumbled forward in the darkness, listening for the gorilla to answer again.

Here.  Come.

There was a slight echo, and DeeAnn looked down to realize that she was standing on a pile of rocks.  She leaned forward, placing a hand on the slope in front of her.  Under the moonlight she could see a dark opening in the wall, eerily resembling a gaping mouth.  “Dulce, are you in there?”

Yes.  Come.

She stumbled forward to the entrance and found the first several feet into the cave illuminated by the moonlight overhead.  She shook her head and mumbled under her breath.  “This feels like a really bad idea.”

She stepped slowly into the darkness, trying to keep her balance over the uneven ground.   Unable to see beyond the glow of her vest, she stopped again and stared forward, letting her eyes adjust.

“Dulce?”

The small gorilla emerged from the darkness in front of her.  Me here.

She took DeeAnn’s hand and pulled her deeper inside.  Together, they walked forward, the vest’s blue glow giving her an eerie feeling.

“Did you find Dexter?”

Yes.  Me find friend.

DeeAnn squinted, still trying to see, as Dulce pulled her deeper into the cave.  After perhaps fifty more feet, she stopped when something emerged out of the blackness.  She gasped.

Standing in front of them was the small capuchin, covered with bright gray fur.  He remained still, watching them in the damp coolness of the cave.

But it was another image that most surprised DeeAnn.  Another monkey standing behind Dexter.  She stepped forward to get a better look with the tiny vest light, and her eyes suddenly widened.  There wasn’t just one monkey behind Dexter, there were several.  Dozens.  All standing together.

Ever so slowly, DeeAnn turned, shining her light in different directions to find more, all sitting calmly along the walls of the cave.  All with gray hair and even a few with white.

But it was what she saw next that caused her mouth to fall completely open.  Drawn on the inside of the walls were lines…and shapes.  Crude, but easily recognizable as circles and lines.

“Oh my God,” DeeAnn whispered.  Her vest made a loud buzz.  She covered her mouth and continued shaking her head in disbelief.

“Oh my God, indeed,” a woman’s voice said behind her.

DeeAnn whirled around to find three silhouettes standing in the entrance, backlit from the moonlight.

“Who are you?”

One of the figures approached.  She stepped close enough for the blue light to show her face.  Her Portuguese accent was thick.  “My name is Marie Becca.”

“What do you want?”

Becca ignored the question, her eyes panning the wall, then falling onto Dexter in amazement.  “My God, it’s true.”

DeeAnn stepped between them.  “What do you want?”

The other woman smiled with an air of condescension.  “I’m here for the same reason you are.” She then looked past Dexter to the others.  “An evolutionary wonder that no one else has ever seen.”  She shook her head incredulously.  “But I never thought it would be true.”

DeeAnn’s face hardened.  “Leave them alone.”

Becca nearly laughed.  “Leave them alone?  Are you serious?  Don’t you understand what this means?”

“I know exactly what it means.  But you’re not going to take them.  Any of them.”

Becca’s eyes returned to DeeAnn’s as if seeing her for the first time.  Hearing another loud buzz, she lowered her gaze and studied the strange vest with the blue light.  “What is that?”

DeeAnn instinctively turned it off.  “It’s none of your business.”  At once, the light went off, causing them all to disappear into the darkness.

Moments later a red flare burst into light, revealing both men standing behind Becca, one holding the flame over his head.  More of the cave came alive, revealing even more capuchins.

Both women gasped nearly in unison.  The cave continued for quite a distance, extending deep into the mountain.  About twenty yards back, they noticed something remarkable on the floor.  It was a large area ringed by stones.  In the middle were several small piles of leaves, layered with taller sticks leaning over them.  It didn’t look like much, but the women studied it with astonishment.  The monkeys were trying to create fire with piles similar to those they had seen from humans.  They still didn’t understand how to make it happen, but they were trying.

Out of the corner of her eye, DeeAnn saw Becca withdraw a small tranquilizer pistol from behind her back and point it at a nearby monkey –– one covered in white fur.

“No!”  In a split second, her instincts kicked in and she lunged for the other woman, trying to knock the pistol out of her hand.  The two fell to the ground, causing the gun to fire, and a dart ricocheted off the cave wall.

DeeAnn clawed for the gun, trying to wrestle it from Becca’s hand.  But the taller woman fought back, striking DeeAnn in the face with her fist.

Becca rose onto a knee and tried to aim again, but DeeAnn quickly pushed forward, knocking her back down.

Before she could lunge again, one of the soldiers stepped forward and pushed a heavy boot against DeeAnn’s back, pinning her in place while Becca returned to her feet.  Not bothering to brush herself off, the Brazilian repointed her gun and fired a dart into the chest of the monkey at close range.

The monkey screamed and clawed at the dart, pulling it out.  At the same time, the other capuchins surged forward trying to protect him.  But within seconds its movements began to slow.

Forcefully, Becca pushed through the troops, grasped one of the monkey’s flailing arms and pulled it off its feet.  She immediately jumped back behind the two soldiers for protection.

Becca lifted the monkey and examined her prize as it went decidedly limp, dangling from her hand.  She looked at DeeAnn on the ground and smiled.  “I win.”

Those were the last words spoken before Becca, followed by both men, turned back to the mouth of the cave and disappeared into the night.

By the time Steve Caesare arrived, it was too late.  His flashlight searched the cave floor and walls until he spotted DeeAnn leaning against a rock.  Next to her was Dulce, and both were surrounded by the capuchins.  He slowed and studied DeeAnn, who was holding one of her arms.

“You okay?”

“I will be.  I had a run-in with our Brazilian friends.”

“What happened?”

“I tried to stop them from taking one of the monkeys and lost.”

Caesare tucked his light under an arm and bent down to examine her.  He checked her arm and it didn’t feel broken.  He shone his light around them, scanning the inside of the cave.  “What is this place?”

Despite her injured arm and some scrapes on her face, she managed to reach down and turn the vest back on.  “I’m not sure.”  Once the blue light appeared, DeeAnn grinned.  “What do you say we find out?”

87

Just twenty-five percent below Mach One, the Chinese Y-20 cargo plane thundered over the southeastern border of Venezuela and headed directly for the Acarai Mountains.

At fifteen minutes out, two crewmen began unlatching the straps holding the giant bomb in place.  They then used the hold’s loading assembly to slowly roll it back to the edge of the aft ramp, securing two heavy chains to each side.

Once in position, one of the crewmen picked up the phone on the wall and spoke loudly over the Y-20’s powerful turbofan engines.  After a pause, he replaced the phone and closed the metal cover.

It took less than thirty seconds for the bomb’s panel to light up and begin its remote programming.

Seven minutes later, the giant aircraft approached the Acarai summit, hidden thousands of feet below in the pitch-black jungle.  The plane gently increased its pitch and began a slow upward climb.

Inside, the crewmen attached one final powerful cable to the device, with an electronic release in the middle nearly the size of a bowling ball.  They promptly removed the side chains and moved further up the cargo bay’s wall, attaching themselves to nylon safety lines.

There they waited, watching the wall until a bright green light signaled their position.

One of the men looked to the other, who nodded back.  He then opened the clear cover and slammed his hand down on the giant button.

Overhead, several red flashing lights filled the cargo bay, accompanied by a loud siren, as the ramp door disengaged and began to lower.  The bomb slid backward toward the tail of the plane until it was halted by the thick cable.

It took two full minutes for the ramp door to fully open and provide a smooth path out the rear of the plane.

Then at last, when over their target, the strap disconnected.  The long, elliptically-shaped bomb abruptly accelerated, leaving the ramp and disappearing into the night.

The Russian thermobaric bomb detonated at one thousand feet above the Acarai peak, releasing a brilliant orange mushroom cloud into the dark sky, along with a supersonic shockwave hot enough to evaporate solid rock.

88

A jolt from the truck’s old suspension shook John Clay from his unconscious state.  His head rocked side to side from the continual shaking of the bumpy road, making it hard to focus.  He could hear rocks pelting the inside of the wheel wells, indicating a rapid speed over a dirt road.

His eyes closed again for a moment before he was able to find the strength to force them back open.  As the light began to sharpen, he tilted his head to see what appeared to be the dark shape of the driver against the bright front windshield.  A second person was ahead of him in the passenger seat.

His next sensation was the pain.  Every part of his body screamed out from under a thick wool blanket which covered all but his face.  He tried to move but couldn’t.  Not anything.  Instead, he tried his mouth and managed a slight whisper.

On his third attempt, the passenger turned around and looked down at him.

“You’re awake.”

Clay fought to make his lips move again.

“Don’t talk, save your energy.”

The driver glanced over his shoulder at Clay and quickly turned back to the road.

A severe dip sent a wave of pain through Clay’s limbs, causing him to moan.

“Hang in there, man.  We’re all trying to get you out of here.”

“W-what happened?” Clay whispered.

The Chinese passenger shrugged.  “Hell if we know.  Someone at the agency hit the panic button.  Instructions are to find you and then get the hell out.”

Clay blinked slowly.  His memory was a jumble of images and he was struggling to put them in order.

“Where’s Li Na?”

The other man looked at the driver before replying.  “We don’t know.  She escaped and disappeared into the forest before we could stop her.”

Clay shook his head.  He could see the girl’s face, frightened and alone.  “Stop.”

“What?”

“Stop the car.”

“Sorry, can’t do that.  We have to get out of the country.  There’s a team waiting for us in Huludao.”

Clay shook his head.  “We have to go back.”

The driver abruptly pulled the truck over to a stop.  He twisted around in his seat and Clay recognized him from Qin’s team.  “Look, I don’t think you understand what’s happened here.  A lot of covers just got blown to find you.  Agents who can now be traced to a lot of others all over this region.”

The second agent in the passenger’s seat nodded in agreement.  “Our only priorities are you and this case.”  He held up the metal case.

Clay managed to angle his head and stare at it.  “Did you open it?”

The agent lowered it.  “Nope.  Not authorized.”

Clay’s memories were coming back.  “Check the case.”

“Sorry.  I can’t do it.  Our instructions are to get you, and this thing, out.”

“Listen to me,” Clay said louder.  “We have to go back.”

The driver shook his head and put the truck back into gear.  “I think you got hit one too many times in the head.”

Clay gritted his teeth in pain and took a deep breath.  “If you won’t go back, then at least check the goddamn case!”

The agents both looked at each other.  The second agent reached down and brought the case back up.  After contemplating, he turned it sideways and opened the clasps, pulling the cool metal case open.  He stared inside before turning it for the driver to see.

It was empty.

89

By the time the agents turned the truck around, Qin had already landed in Beijing.  After being found and freed with the other soldiers, all he had to do was find a phone.

Less than a minute after his helicopter bounced lightly onto the tarmac, the side door was flung open by two airmen outside.  Once on the ground, Qin was quickly escorted to a vehicle which sped across the base to a nearby lab.

He ordered the airmen to remain outside while he pushed through the double doors and ran up a flight of stairs.  When he reached the room, a single technician was waiting for him with a very confused look on his face.

Unsure, the technician saluted and returned a nervous hand to his side.  “You asked to see me, sir?”

Instead of replying, Qin closed the wide door behind him and locked it.

“Listen very carefully.  You are not to repeat a single word of this conversation to anyone.  Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Qin’s cold eyes bore into the man.  “And any results you find will be erased.”

The technician nodded nervously.

With that, a wry grin spread across Qin’s face as he reached inside his jacket.  He removed a red rag and began unwrapping it.  When he uncovered the final layer, he held his hand below and rolled three clear glass tubes into his palm.

***

Qin waited impatiently.  He watched as the young technician removed samples from each tube and used a swab to carefully place them on the ATP meters.  Once in the luminometer, they watched the computer screen as the results were captured and displayed.

Qin squinted, trying to understand what he was seeing on the screen.  Multiple lines rose and fell across a horizontal list of molecular compounds.  It was clear that two of the compounds were in much higher concentrations than the rest.  He pointed at them.

“What are those?”

The technician’s confusion was growing.  “Those are Selenium and Iron.”  He pointed to the others.  “These, however, are all bacterium.”

Qin stepped closer, excitedly.  “What sort of bacterium?”

“They’re called coliform.”

Qin paused and turned toward the technician.  “You’ve seen them before?”

“Yes, sir.  Many times.”

“What do you mean?”

The technician shrugged.  “They’re common.”

Qin froze.  Impossible.  Deep down a sudden panic began to grow.  “How common?”

“Very common.  We find it in almost all forms of ground water.”

The panic was now overtaking Qin.  “It’s water?”

“Yes.  Judging from the Selenium and Iron, I’d guess a water source in close proximity to a mining operation.”

90

The CIA agent stumbled down the rocky path, keeping the flashlight pointed straight ahead.  With one hand on the wall, he moved as quickly as he could without tripping over the larger stones.

The damp tunnel continued to descend for several hundred feet before he spotted the glimmering water.   The agent hurried to the edge, and without the slightest pause, waded into the icy pool.  He forced himself to remain still and scanned each side, until spotting a large boulder nearby.  He crept forward and used the light to study a crevice between the boulder and the wall.  Wedged into the middle of the crevice was a small drinking canister.

Exactly where Clay said it would be.

91

The blast was almost beyond comprehension.

As if in slow motion, the orange mushroom cloud had curled under itself, gradually turning red, then violet, then black, before finally dissolving into the night sky.

The impact of the world’s largest conventional bomb was devastating.  A full thirty meters of the top of the Acarai summit was simply gone.  Rocks, trees, everything…vaporized into nothingness, along with every creature within the radius of a quarter mile.

Salazar and his army, along with Otero and Russo.  Every living thing was gone.  Including Corso and Juan.

Further down the mountain, the shock wave flattened trees for another full mile, setting nearly half of what remained on fire.  The rest was left smoldering.

Much further down, and inside the cave, there was no sound.  Dirt and rocks covered the floor, while thick wisps of dust were being sucked outside into the hot air.

On the floor, a single spot of dirt finally moved.  Several seconds later, it moved again, but this time, growing larger.  Slowly, something pushed upward, causing the loose dirt to fall away before taking the shape of an arm.  Dirt moved in another area and Steve Caesare’s head emerged.

He wiped the dirt from his eyes and looked around, into blackness.  He thrust his arms back into the dirt and found his flashlight, pulling it out.  It was still lit.

Caesare climbed to his feet and held the light up, looking for the others.   He helped the rising shapes of Dulce and DeeAnn, then began searching for monkeys.

“What the hell was that?” DeeAnn coughed.

“A bomb.”

Thirty minutes later, they stood at the cave entrance, peering out in shock at the sight before them.  Against the moonlight, warm ash fell silently to the ground.  Higher up on the mountain, a raging wall of fire ringed what was left of the summit.

A numb DeeAnn stared up at the flames.  Tears appeared and ran down her cheeks, creating tracks on her dust-covered face.

Caesare pointed his flashlight at the ground.  His voice was somber.  “We have to get out of here.  That fire can spread.”

With Dulce on his back and DeeAnn following behind, Caesare came to a stop and lowered his flashlight.  He studied the sight in front of them with curiosity.  Almost a hundred yards ahead, something was glowing, and brightly.

He raised his light and continued forward until he realized what the object was.  Then he began running.

It was a vehicle, a Humvee, lying on its left side with two wheels in the air.  It was pinned beneath two flattened trees, and miraculously, one of the headlights was still functioning.

Caesare reached the small truck and dropped Dulce to the ground.  He turned and held up a hand to them.  “Stay here.”

He circled the front of the vehicle, taking large steps through the flat brush, then stopped and shined his flashlight through the shattered windshield.  Behind the myriad of cracks, he could see the barrel of a gun pointing directly at him.

“Tiewater?”

At the sound of his name, the SEAL let his hand fall with a groan.

Even seeing the man’s face covered in blood, Caesare couldn’t help but smile.  He climbed up onto the vehicle’s upturned side and peered down through the open window.  “Son of a bitch, you’re alive!”

Tiewater, unable to move his head, moved his eyes instead.  “Good, because this sure as hell doesn’t feel like heaven.  Somebody nuked us.”

“I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a nuke.  Can you move?”

Tiewater clenched his teeth and tried.  “Not much.  I think my legs are broken.  And maybe my arm.”

Caesare nodded.  He looked around the inside at all the silver-colored airbags, now deflated.

“You might be the best commercial yet for the airbag companies.”

“Lucky me.  Now get me the hell out of here.”

“Hold on.  Let me figure this out.”

“Wait,” Tiewater said, straining to look through the window frame.  “What about Corso and the kid?”

Caesare frowned and shook his head.

92

Will Borger never saw the explosion.  He was instead gripping the sides of his seat, white-knuckled, as the Sea King helicopter reduced its altitude and began to slow.  The bright lights of the Pathfinder could be seen less than a mile away, floating eerily on what resembled a sea of blackness.

When the helicopter touched down, he unbuckled and grabbed his bag in one hand.  The door was opened from the outside and a young navy officer motioned him down onto a metal stepladder.

When he reached the deck, he noticed several others standing and waiting, carrying something.  It was a wire basket stretcher.  In it was a man who looked like an unconscious Chris Ramirez.

Borger forgot about his anxiety and watched the team quickly move in behind him, sliding Chris into the helicopter.  A doctor climbed in next to him and slammed the door shut.

Only when Borger turned around did he see Alison standing on the deck several feet away, tears in her eyes.

“Alison?”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned to Will.

“What happened?”

“An accident.  Chris is being airlifted back to Trinidad.”

Before he could ask, Alison choked back sobs and answered his question.  “It doesn’t look good.”

“My God, I’m sorry.”

Alison didn’t respond.  Instead, she merely watched the helicopter as it roared back into the air.  She continued watching until the helicopter’s lights faded into nothingness before turning back to Borger.  Her face was dour.  “Did you bring it?”

“I did.”

Alison took a deep breath and looked up at the star-filled sky.  She couldn’t hold it in anymore.  The fear was still there, but she had to ask him.  She had to ask him the question she was terrified of hearing the answer to.

“How is John?”

She watched the look on Borger’s face change.  He struggled, staring at her uncomfortably.  “Uh…”

“Just tell me,” she said.  “I know something is wrong.  I can feel it.  Just tell me the truth.”

Borger blinked and remained still, then finally nodded.  “The truth is…I don’t know.”  He slowly shook his head.  “I don’t know how he is, or even where he is right now.  Not exactly.”

“What does not exactly mean?”

“He’s in China.  But I’ve lost contact with him.  A rescue team has been sent in…”

Alison pursed her lips together.  Borger could see the glistening of tears in her eyes.  “A rescue team?”

He nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask who.  Explaining that the CIA was trying to find Clay probably wouldn’t help matters.

“It must be bad.”  Alison's chin quivered slightly.  “He’s usually the one doing the rescuing.”

“He did save someone.  A young girl.  That much, I do know.”

She nodded and tried to blink away the tears.  “Do you think he’s dead?”

“No.  I don’t.”

“Why?”

Borger let a small grin escape.  “Because Clay is my friend.  And I know that if the situation were reversed, he would never give up on me.”

Alison stared at Borger before finally grinning with him.  “You’re right.”  She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.  “Thank you.”

He nodded and looked around at the men waiting nearby.  “Now what?”

She took another deep breath.  “Neely Lawton is waiting for you upstairs.  They’ll take you.”

“What about you?”

She turned and looked back at Tay and Lightfoot, both waiting patiently.  “I have an appointment.”

Borger noticed the SCUBA gear behind the men.  “What did you find?”

“The plants are the same.  Just like we saw on the mountain.  But how it happened here, I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Borger’s face became serious.  “Then there’s something I need to tell you.”

***

Alison.  You back.

“I’m back,” Alison nodded.  “Just like I promised.”

We happy for you back.

Alison looked over her shoulder and smiled at Lightfoot floating next to her.  “So are we.”

You come for plants.

“Not this time.”  Alison reached down and retrieved a small device from a pocket on her BCD.  It was the device Borger brought.

They knew what they were dealing with now.  The plants were the same, which suggested the cause had to be the same.  Just like at Acarai, something was in the water.  Now they just needed to find the source.

The device in her hand came on automatically and glowed with a soft blue light.  On the mountain, it had measured the concentration levels of a very special compound, which ultimately led them to the secret vault.  Now they were trying to find the second source: the ship.

Alison twisted around, studying the display.  She kicked forward, traveling twenty yards, but there was no change. She turned and swam further still, but could not see anything different.  Then it hit her.

In the jungle, it was easier.  There was a flow of water, and it was one directional.

“What’s wrong?” Lightfoot asked.

“It’s not working.”

“Why not?”

“Because what this is looking for isn’t in front of us, or behind us.  It’s everywhere.”

Alison began to call up to Lee, but stopped when she spotted Dirk and Sally, floating patiently in place.

No plants.

“No.  Not the plants this time.”

Come Alison.  Come now.  We show.

Both dolphins thrust their tails and moved past her and Lightfoot, who both turned and followed.  Together they descended back into the darkness and watched as the green glow eventually reappeared below them.  The effect was both eerie and breathtaking.

The dolphins continued downward, pausing to allow Alison and Lightfoot to catch up.

Hold us.

Alison glanced curiously at Lightfoot before wrapping her hand around Sally’s dorsal fin.  Then he did the same to Dirk.  The dolphins continued, diving deeper into the expanse of dense vegetation.

When they reached a small drop-off, the dolphins dropped with it, skimming over the tops of enormous sea plants, all shining brightly under their headlamps.  They suddenly ducked beneath long waving tendrils, and saw a dark yet thriving dip in the coral.  Leading the way, Dirk slowed and approached the area carefully.  Yet when he reached the wall of plants, Dirk didn’t stop.  Instead he continued forward smoothly, passed through the vegetation, and disappeared inside.  Alison barely had time to blink before Sally did the same.

Both human passengers watched incredulously as the underwater growth extended through a small passageway –– through coral tight enough that it caused them to bump repeatedly against the sides.

Gigantic green plants billowed before them, brushing their masks and rolling past harmlessly.

Still holding tightly onto Sally, Alison remembered her device, brought it up to her face, and then gasped.  The concentrations were off the chart!  It was from here that the nourishing compounds were emanating.

The dolphins reached the other side of the passage and emerged into something much larger.

With her mouth open, Alison let go of Sally and slowed.  Just several feet ahead, Lightfoot instinctively did the same upon seeing what lay before them.

Neither moved for a long time.  Instead they remained, floating still in the water.  It was a cavern.  And it looked as though the coral had grown over it, sealing the cavity off from above.  The area was approximately fifty yards across with thick columns of coral twisting and extending below in places, providing a natural support system.

And as small as the cavern was in width, it extended much deeper below them, covered in even thicker vegetation.

But it was what the vegetation had attached itself to that left Alison and Lightfoot completely speechless.

Enveloped within a vast green glow was something metal.  Manufactured.  With powerful looking gray walls and a smooth surface, the structure extended less than a hundred feet before it was completely consumed by the vines and tendrils of plant life around it.

Along one side, and partially obscured, were strange markings.  Reminiscent of what Alison had seen in the mountains of Guyana.

Lightfoot pushed himself forward, mesmerized.  He closed in, studying the wall of metal.  “It looks perfect, without a mark on it.”  He reached forward and gingerly touched a finger to the object.  A green glow rippled out in a small circle, then disappeared.

Lightfoot turned and looked back at Alison, hovering just behind him.  He then pressed his entire hand against it to see a larger circle ripple out, before fading again.

Alison peered down through the water.  The ship’s hull descended further than she could see.  She reached out and brushed her hand across the surface of the wall, watching as a green trail briefly followed her glove.

Sally and Dirk floated next to them, barely moving their fins.

This you look Alison.

Alison blinked behind her mask and smiled.  “Yes.  This is what we were looking for.”  She continued staring in awe.  It was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Borger was right.

***

Two hours later, Langford picked up his ringing cell phone and answered it.

“Langford.”

On the other end, Will Borger stared at the phone in the middle of the small table.  Sitting in the room with him were Captain Emerson, Neely, and lastly, Alison, sporting wet but neatly brushed hair.

“Admiral, it’s Borger.  I’m here with Captain Emerson, Alison, and Neely Lawton.”

“Good morning.  I hope you’re calling with good news.”

“You could say that.”  He turned to Neely and nodded.

“Admiral, this is Commander Lawton.”  She leaned forward, toward the phone.  “I’ve confirmed that the samples we’ve recovered here on the sea floor contain the same genetic properties as the plants from Guyana.”

“You’re sure?”

“There are still a few more tests to run when we return, but yes, sir.  I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Commander.  That is good news.”

Borger frowned slightly.  The admiral’s tone sounded more somber than he was expecting.  Even for him.

“Is everything all right, sir?”

“Everything is fine,” he replied.  “Captain Emerson, under the circumstances, I’d like you to hold your position and await further instructions.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

Borger cleared his voice.  “Uh, Admiral.  We also have something else to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

Borger glanced around the table at the others.

“Sir, for this…I think you’re going to want to sit down.”

93

The morning sun was barely climbing into the sky as a gray Crown Victoria was waved through the airport’s southern gate.  It sped past the row of nondescript aircraft hangars, heading directly for the Gulfstream sitting on a private tarmac.

Upon reaching the plane, the car slowed and came to a stop, where one of the rear doors was immediately opened.  Secretary of Defense Miller stepped out in full uniform, closing the door behind him.  He walked to the metal staircase and climbed briskly to the top, stepping inside the cabin.

Admiral Langford and CIA Director Hayes were already seated inside, waiting.  Each sitting on opposite sides of the aisle.

Miller grinned at the obvious tension between the two and sat down, just seconds before the heavy door was closed behind him.

***

After remaining an independent and self-governing province for nearly four hundred years, the Republic and Canton of Geneva rejoined the Swiss Confederacy in 1815, establishing itself as Switzerland’s westernmost region.  Surrounded by the lush green hills of France on nearly all sides, the French-speaking canton remained the most metropolitan and wealthiest in the region.  And was home to some of the most powerful multinational corporations in the world.

The Gulfstream’s flight lasted eight hours before the aircraft circled and began its final approach.  After touching down, it taxied to a secure location at the Geneva Airport and slowed to a stop.

In the darkness, two black SUVs stood waiting, surrounded by several CIA agents.  The three men descended the stairs and approached their security detail.  Hayes then immediately climbed into the first truck, leaving Langford and Miller to the second.  Conducting a final scan of the area, the agents opened their own doors and climbed in around them.

The traffic along the route was light, allowing the two-car caravan to reach Vernier in less than thirty minutes.  The small municipality was well-known as home to one of the wealthiest offshore drilling companies in the world.  A conglomerate with immense power, yet now perhaps one of the most tarnished reputations in the industry.  Transocean Limited would forever be known as the owner of the drill rig responsible for the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, and the largest accidental marine spill in petroleum history.

When Langford, Miller, and Hayes were escorted into the lobby of the company’s headquarters, a member of the Transocean staff was waiting for them.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” an attractive female said pleasantly.  With short black hair, she was impeccably dressed in a red and black colorblock skirt suit.  “I’m Alessia Bierle.  We’re privileged to have you here and hope your trip was enjoyable.”

“It was fine.  Thank you,” Langford replied.

“Can I get you anything before heading upstairs?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well.  Then please follow me and we’ll head up.”

The woman led them to the elevator and held it open for their visitors.  Once inside, Bierle pushed the button for the top floor and turned to them, smiling.  “Our executive team is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bierle,” Miller nodded.  Hayes had yet to speak.

The elevator opened into an elaborate meeting room with light marble flooring and a modern design, giving it a clean and efficient look.  Bierle led them across the room and gestured to the three closest chairs at the table.  On the other side sat several men, all in their fifties and sixties, who immediately stood with welcoming yet cautious expressions.

The man in the middle smiled at all three men and extended his hand across the dark table.

“Good morning,” he said in a thick French accent.  “We are very pleased to meet you.”

Admiral Langford shook his hand and quickly selected a chair, signaling his desire to dispense with pleasantries.  He sat down, followed by Miller, Hayes, and the rest of the room.

A man named Abel Abegg, the president of Transocean, was dressed impeccably in a dark blue Brioni suit and eased himself down, studying the three Americans.  They were clearly not there to waste time.

“What is it that we can help you with, Admiral?”

“We’re interested in one of your mobile drill rigs in the Caribbean.  The one that you’re replacing.”

Abegg nodded.  “Ah, you’re referring to the Nordic.  We just put the newer ultra-deepwater unit in place two weeks ago and are running simulation tests.”  He looked curiously among all three men.  “What is it about the Nordic that you’d like to know?”

Miller cleared his throat.  “It’s not the newer one we’re interested in.  It’s the older rig being removed.”

Abegg looked confused.  “The old rig?  You mean the Valant?”

“Correct,” answered Langford.

“I don’t understand,” Abegg replied, glancing briefly at the rest of his team.

“You are removing it?”

“Yes, of course.  We must.  Regulations mandate all rigs be replaced if they pose a significant structural risk.”

At this, Langford grinned.  “Regulations haven’t exactly been your strong suit.”

His comment caused several eyes to narrow across the table, and the pleasant expression on their president’s face disappeared.  “You’re speaking of the Deepwater accident.”

“We’ve come here with an opportunity, Mr. Abegg.”

He stared at Langford.  “Is that right?  An opportunity for whom may I ask?”

Langford met the man’s gaze.  “For your redemption.”

Abegg slowly smiled.  “Redemption?”

“That’s right.”

“Redemption of what, exactly?”

“Redemption for knowing that cutting the wrong corners resulted in the largest oil spill and manmade disaster on record.  And an expensive lesson.”

“A very expensive lesson,” Abegg replied.

“Indeed.”

“So, what sort of redemption are we speaking of?” Abegg asked.

Miller answered.  “Another mistake.”

“Excuse me?”

“Another mistake,” repeated Langford.

“I don’t understand.”

“The old rig you’re bringing back to dismantle.  It needs a problem.”

“It needs a problem?”  The president looked again at his officers on either side, then turned back to Langford with a grin.  “And this problem is supposed to be our redemption?”

“That’s right.”

Abegg merely stared at Langford.  “Exactly what kind of problem do you have in mind?”

“That’s up to you.  We only care about the location.”

94

John Clay awoke and slowly examined the light-colored blanket tucked neatly around him.  The high rails on either side told him it was a hospital bed.  Without moving his head, he followed the blanket up to his chest, where he found clear tubes running to either side.

The room came into focus quickly.  It was sparsely decorated with little more than a service table and a television high on the opposite wall. He moved both hands and felt something soft to his right.

He turned his head to see a chair pulled close to the bed.  Curled up uncomfortably and still sleeping was Alison.  Her arm extended across the edge of the bed with her hand resting on top of Clay’s.

Clay watched her as she slept.  Even with tousled hair and her head resting awkwardly on a pillow atop the chair, he smiled at how beautiful she was.

He was overcome with emotion, staring longingly into a face he thought he would never see again.  He took a deep breath and smiled.

Alison’s eyes fluttered open and stared at him.  But only for a moment before jerking upright.  “You’re awake!”

Clay smiled.  Even her voice was beautiful.

Alison leaned forward to hug him gently.

“When did you get here?” he asked.

She smiled and pulled his hand to her cheek.  “As soon as I could.”

A flood of emotions overwhelmed him and Clay’s eyes began to well with tears.  “I-I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.  “I’m here now.”

He smiled again and nodded.

Alison lowered his hand, then stood up and leaned in closer to kiss him.  When she sat back down, it was on the edge of his bed.

“How do you feel?”

“Old.”

She chuckled.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“Everything hurts.”  He grimaced and pulled the blanket to the side, examining the cast he felt on his leg.  “What day is it?”

“Saturday, the twelfth.”

He peered through the window into a blue sky with soft scattered clouds.  “Where are we?”

She grinned.  “Honolulu.  At the Queen’s Medical Center.”

“Hawaii?”

“Yep.”

He leaned his head back.  “Not exactly how I would have wanted to bring you here.”

Alison looked down and straightened the blanket across his chest.  “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”

“I know.  It was probably better you didn’t.  Besides, I had my own problems.”

His eyes narrowed.  “What happened?”

She was still looking down at the blanket and pursed her lips tight, but it didn’t prevent what was coming.  Alison began to tremble and she fell forward, softly into him.  “We lost Juan.”

Clay was stunned.  “What?!”

“We lost Juan,” she repeated, sobbing.

“Oh no.”  He brought her in closer.  “I’m so sorry.”

Clay didn’t need to ask.  He knew what Caesare and his team were up against, and he knew how often things went awry, no matter how well-planned.  He put his bandaged arm around her, trying to ignore the pain.

After a minute, she looked up and tried to wipe the tears away.  “And Chris!”

“Chris?!”

Alison nodded.  “He’s in the hospital.  There was an accident aboard the ship.  The doctors think he’s going to be okay, but we almost lost him too.”

He nodded and squeezed her.  “What about Steve?”

“He’s okay, and DeeAnn and Dulce.  But he lost two of his men.”

Clay closed his eyes, shaking his head.  Nearly everything had gone wrong.  Juan, Chris, and now two of Caesare’s team.

He reached up and brushed some hair away from Alison’s face.  “Not our finest moment, was it?”

She stared at him and wiped her eyes.  With a sniff she said, “Well, I’m not sure if I’d go that far.”

She forced a small smile at Clay’s inquisitive look.  “We did manage to find something.  Something big.”

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door.  Alison got up and walked across the room to open it, finding Caesare there, quiet and somber.  He stepped in, wearing an arm sling and a grave face.

Clay had seen that look before.  “How you doin’?”

Caesare shook his head.  “Not all that great.  How are you?”

“Better than I was.”

“I bet.”  He stopped at the foot of the bed.  “You hear about Juan, and Corso, and Anderson?”

“I did.  I’m sorry.”

Caesare nodded.  “Not much went our way.  Doesn’t look like too much went your way either.”

Clay managed a grin.  “I guess it depends on how you look at it.”

“Well, it looks like you got beat up.”

“Yeah, but I think I intimidated the hell out of the other guys.”

A small smile spread across Caesare’s face.  “Based on how bad you look, they must have been shaking in their boots.”

“I wish you could have been there.”

This time, Caesare laughed.  “Gee, thanks.”  He rounded the bed and dropped his large frame into the chair.  “So what did happen?”

“I found Wei’s daughter, Li Na.”

“She was alive then?”

“Yes.  Wei saved her life by injecting her with the bacterium from the plants.”

“Where is she now?”

Clay stared at him, still trying to piece his memory back together.  No doubt made worse by the medication he was on.  “I think she escaped.”

“Great.”  Caesare leaned back.  The room became silent before he took a breath and spoke again.  “It’s gone, John.  The whole thing is gone.”

“The vault?”

Caesare nodded.  “They dropped a bomb and melted the whole damn top of that mountain.  We survived by luck.  And nothing more.”

“The Brazilians?”

“No.”  Caesare shook his head.  “The Chinese.”

“The Chinese?”

Caesare nodded with his eyes transfixed.  “I guess if they couldn’t have it, they decided no one would.”

Clay was shocked.  He gazed back out through the window, shaking his head.  “How are the others?”

“Alive,” Caesare said.  “Chris and Tiewater are both in the hospital.  DeeAnn’s fine, but I’m sure she’s out –– this time, for good.  If she was on the fence before, that fence doesn’t even exist anymore.”

Clay looked at Alison, now standing at the foot of his bed.  “I guess we can’t blame her.”

“No,” Caesare said absently.  “No, we can’t.”

Clay noticed Alison glance back at the door.  It was the second time she had done it.  “What’s wrong?”

“Me?  Nothing.”

He watched Alison glance subtly at Caesare.  They knew something he didn’t.

“What?”

***

The Queen’s Medical Center, still commonly referred to as Queen’s Hospital, was the largest in the state of Hawaii.  Long since expanded beyond the hospital’s original footprint, the facility had grown to over 500 beds, 3,600 employees, and now served as the largest trauma center in the Pacific Basin.

On the bottom floor, beneath the light-green roof of the hospital’s main entrance, two automatic double doors promptly slid open as Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller strode in out of the warm, humid Hawaiian air.  Both were dressed in casual clothes and walked purposefully toward the elevators.  Behind them, three more individuals followed.

Langford slowed as he passed the large waiting room, noticing the feed on the giant television.  It was an aerial shot of Transocean’s rig “Valant” in the mid-Atlantic.  Onscreen, words overlaid the live video feed and read “Transocean loses millions to prevent disaster.”

With a bemused grin, Langford continued.  He had to admit, between their two public relations teams, the story being fed to the public sounded downright heroic.  The “disaster” portion was a stretch.  The company hadn’t actually replaced the rig sooner than planned, nor was there a malfunction forcing the old rig to be stopped where it was.  In truth, the incident was little more than a detour on the way to the scrapyard.  The important thing was that it allowed the public to praise Transocean Ltd. on being proactive…before promptly forgetting the incident.  Even more importantly, it provided the perfect excuse to now position an unused oil rig directly over Alison Shaw’s discovery for the next twelve months, accompanied, of course, by the U.S.S. Pathfinder.

It was the same story that had been circulated throughout each of the U.S. military’s five service branches.

***

When the door to Clay’s room opened next, he was surprised to see both Langford and Miller walk in, followed by Neely Lawton, Will Borger, and to Caesare’s complete shock, a serious-looking DeeAnn Draper.

Together they looked down at Clay with concern, after which Neely exchanged a quick smile with Caesare as Langford began to speak.

“How are you, John?”

“Uh…surprised, sir.”

Langford grinned and glanced to his left.  “How about you, Steve?”

Next to Clay, Caesare watched Langford with a cautious expression.  “I’m fine.”

The admiral motioned to the others around him.  “I know this is a little unexpected.”

“Just a tad.”

Langford frowned at Caesare.  “I wanted to have you all in the same room.  And since Clay isn’t going anywhere soon, I decided we could all do with a bit of warm air and sunshine.”

Clay gave a playful but questioning look at Alison, who only shrugged and smiled.  Both he and Caesare watched Langford with curiosity.

“Let me start by commending you all.  You did a hell of a job under the circumstances.”  Langford glanced at the others.  “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been more impressed with a group of individuals.  It’s people like you who remind me what this country is supposed to be about.  What it used to be about.  And perhaps what it might someday be again.  But until then, what has happened in the last few weeks, or in the last year, has been nothing short of earth-shaking.  I’m sure you would all agree.”  Langford straightened and put his hands behind himself.  “Which is also why it must be protected.  At all costs.  By all of you.”

Both Clay and Caesare raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

“Sir?”

“What I’m about to say may come as a surprise.  Yet it’s something on which Defense Secretary Miller and I both agree.  And that is the decision to form a new classified team, composed of the members in this room.  A team that reports exclusively to Secretary Miller and myself, and no one else.”

Silence fell over the room as everyone looked back and forth, curiously.

“Sir, I don’t understand,” said Clay.  “Why form a team when the mission is over?”

Langford chuckled.  “And what makes you think things are over?”

“Uh, well, the hidden vault is gone, sir.  We recovered the last of Wei’s infused bacteria, and Alison has found the new source of plants.  It seems to me we’re largely done.  Except for finding Wei’s daughter.”

Langford glanced at Clay.  “I have to admit, I had a similar thought.  Until these three decided to enlighten me.”  He turned again to face Neely, Will, and DeeAnn.  “Mr. Borger, perhaps you would like to start?”

Borger slowly nodded and stepped forward, clearing his voice.  “Uh…well, it kinda has to do with Alison’s discovery near Trinidad.  You see, the vault that was on top of the mountain in Guyana had to have been built…by someone.  Someone who traveled here.”  He nodded to Caesare.  “I explained to Steve a few weeks ago that coming here to do that likely meant it was a one-way trip.  Primarily due to distance, speed, and the amount of energy needed.”  Borger inhaled and looked around the room.  “So when you couple that with all the material involved, it’s likely they needed something to make the journey.  Like a ship.  And that seems to be exactly what Alison has discovered.  Which leads us back to the vault.”

Caesare furrowed his brow.  “The vault was destroyed, Will.”

“I know.  But I’ve been thinking.”  He took another deep breath.  “See, if it were me…and I had to travel all that way…I wouldn’t just build one.”

“What?”

“I said I wouldn’t build just one.”

“What does that mean?” Caesare asked.

Borger replied with a hint of excitement.  “Think about it.  Whoever it was had to travel an awful long way.  Remember, Palin and his people can create portals, but there’s a catch.  Distance.  He explained that the farther the distance, the greater the energy required, becoming exponential.  So at a certain distance, the resources available to create enough energy would be exhausted, which is exactly what was happening to them.  He told us they were running out.”

Caesare nodded.  “So if whoever built that vault traveled by ship…”

“It means they were likely coming from much further away, from a distance they simply couldn’t create a portal from.  This is part of why I think it was a one-way trip.  But here’s the thing, if they did travel all that way to create a safe place for their DNA, it means they’d have to be sure it would survive, right?”

“Right.”

“Which also means it would have to be on a planet with a climate compatible with their own DNA…”

Clay stared at Borger.  “So you’re talking about redundancy.”

“Exactly!  If they came all this way, why would they build just one vault?”

Borger continued, faster.  “Our planet is covered in tectonic plates which affect everything, including things like volcanos, storms, and tsunamis.  You name it.  The conditions are constantly changing.  So they had to build their vault where it would be safe.”

“But given enough time, nothing is safe,” Clay replied.

“That’s right!  Which means you’d need redundancy.  Another, in case one was lost.  A backup.”

“Or a Plan B.”

Borger smiled at Caesare.  “A Plan B.”

“But we’re just theorizing at this point.”

“Not necessarily,” replied Borger.  “Think about us humans.  We build redundancy into almost everything around us, especially our technology.  Even a simple DVD disk arranges data in a way that protects it against damage like scratches.  It’s called Reed-Solomon and the code is used in a host of other technologies.  Like memory sticks.  Or electrical circuits.  Even our cars all carry a spare tire.  Life is unpredictable, and if we know that, then whoever built that vault did too.  And it was supposed to be here for a long time.”

“Okay,” Caesare said.  “So the argument then changes from could they have built another to…did they?”

This time, Borger didn’t reply.  Instead he turned to the admiral, who in turn looked to Neely.  “Commander Lawton?”

With arms folded, she stepped forward.  “There’s something else.”  She smiled at Alison.  “A little more than a week ago, when Ali told me about what had happened at her lab with that young girl, we took blood samples from Dirk and Sally.  What we’ve noticed has to do with a number of genetic markers that are common between humans and dolphins when it comes to brain makeup.

“In fact, a paper published a few years ago by a researcher at the Center of Molecular Medicine has identified a commonality among certain large-brained animals called the big brain trio.  The similarities strongly suggest a convergent evolution among three very specific animals: dolphins, humans, and gorillas.  Similarities in brain size and functionality are more than evident when you image them.

“In other words, a long time ago, something appears to have caused our three brains to evolve in a very similar way.  Not exactly the same, but similar.”

“You mean like some kind of intervention.”  Caesare leaned back again in his chair.

“That’s right,” smiled Neely.  “And given the genetic influence of what we found, both in Guyana and now under the water near Trinidad, this substance could very well be the catalyst responsible for our similar brain evolution.”

“Hold on,” said Clay.  “If what’s in the water really did influence the development of a dolphin’s brain, it doesn’t necessarily mean it affected either gorillas or humans.  The other two-thirds of this big brain trio.”

Now DeeAnn stepped forward.  “You’re right.  It wouldn’t explain why our brains developed very similarly.”  She turned to Borger.  “Unless…”

“Unless there is a second vault,” Borger added.

Clay and Caesare looked at each other.  “And where would that be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.  “But if someone came here to build not just one, but two vaults, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t put them next to each other.  In fact, I suspect they would put them as far away from one another as possible.”  Borger smiled.  “Maybe even on another continent.”

“There’s only seven,” said DeeAnn.  “And one of them, we already know, is where gorillas and humans originated.”

“Africa!” whispered Alison.

DeeAnn nodded.  “Africa.”

The room grew quiet.  Finally Langford spoke to Clay.  “As you can see, John, it’s not over.  Not only do we have a ship to dissect and a bacterium sample to study, but it seems we may also have a second vault to find.”

Secretary Miller spoke up in a deep voice.  “Hence the need for a very small and very secret team.”

Caesare looked at Miller.  “Who else would know about this team?”

“No one.  Just the admiral and I.  There would be no official records and no official funding.  Whatever you need, we will find a way to provide it.  Which shouldn’t be hard given what a mess our current budget is.”

“True,” Langford replied.  “Fortunately, the federal budget is designed for hiding things.”

Caesare looked dubious.  “If only you two know about this team, what happens when the two of you…retire?”

Miller crossed his arms.  “In the event that both of us leave our posts, for whatever reason, it’s over.  The team dissolves immediately, and Mr. Borger erases every trace.”

Caesare nodded and looked at the others.  “So I guess the question now is…who’s in?”

“I am,” answered Neely.

Borger grinned.  “Same here.”

Caesare looked to DeeAnn.  “Dee?”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m more surprised than anyone to be saying this, but I’m in.  After seeing what they did to that mountain, what the stakes are, I get it.  I see just how far some people are willing to go over this.”

Caesare was stunned.

She smiled at him.  “Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Africa.”

Clay looked up at Alison.  “Ali?”

Without a word, she displayed a wide smile.

Epilogue

I

The rusted red steel of the aging oil rig stood in sharp contrast against the Caribbean’s emerald-blue water.  The Valant, one of the first deep ocean production rigs, was small in comparison to the newer and more powerful mobile rigs.  Yet it still dwarfed the Pathfinder, anchored just a quarter mile from the Valant’s pillars, which towered high above the ocean surface.

Transocean’s skeleton crew had already been evacuated once the rig was securely in place, replaced by an even smaller Navy crew.  A crew comprised almost entirely of engineers, most of who were transferred directly from Captain Emerson’s ship.

The group of eight stood in line atop the Valant’s upper platform.  They watched as the Sea King helicopter slowed and approached the helipad in front of them, clearly marked by a bright-red painted circle.

With only a wisp of a breeze, the Sea King landed smoothly with a gentle bounce, followed by the sound of the rotor’s decelerating.

The door slid open and a younger man jumped down onto the deck.  Beneath the wind from the spinning blades, he trotted across the small pad, wheeled a small set of stairs back to the chopper, and placed them in position. The second person out was older, in his sixties, carrying a black duffle bag in each hand.

He descended the stairs, and upon reaching the bottom, dropped the bags at a safe distance.  He continued across the pad to where Captain Emerson was waiting.

Emerson moved forward and extended his hand, which the man accepted with a firm shake.  They spoke briefly, but could not be heard above the helicopter.  Instead, they turned toward the men and waited.

“Gentlemen,” Emerson finally announced in a loud voice.  “I’d like you to meet Mr. Les Gorski.  He’s one of the best commercial divers on the planet, and the man who is going to do his damndest to turn all of you into bona fide divers.  In case you have any doubts, it may help you to know that Mr. Gorski works extensively, training both Delta Force and SEAL teams.  He is uniquely suited for this as he not only knows a great deal about deepwater diving, he invented some of the equipment you will be using.”

Emerson looked back and forth among the men.  “We have very little time, which means that neither does Mr. Gorski.  So you can bet he will be pushing you men hard.  Let me also remind you that this rig and the Pathfinder are both under communication lockdown.  Anything you send or receive will be intercepted and heavily scrutinized.  So, if you want to get a message through to your loved ones and remain here, I suggest you make it short and sweet.  What lies below your feet is not some myth.  It’s not a conspiracy.  It is a bona fide alien spacecraft.  And be it luck or fate, you are the men who are going to get the first crack at it.  We will take every precaution but make no mistake, this is dangerous business, which is why Mr. Gorski is here.  He will teach you how to live and work at depth and if he can, he will also try to keep you from dying.”

Several of the men smiled at Emerson’s last comment but quickly realized there was no trace of humor on the captain’s face.  They watched as he turned to Gorski and nodded.

At roughly six feet tall, Les Gorski examined the group of men with his steely eyes, set behind a pair of dark framed glasses.  His face was weathered and hardened against years of sun and wind.  He kept himself from shaking his head.  The men he was used to dealing with were very different from those standing in front of him.

He turned and glanced back at his two seasoned team members, methodically unloading heavy bags of diving equipment.  “All right men,” he said, turning back.  “Listen up!”

II

Lee sat quietly in the observation room, staring at the glass tank as if in a trance.  On the other side of the glass, Dirk and Sally were as quiet as he was.  They kept moving around the tank with the same slow, dour feeling as Lee and the others.

It had been just over a week since Juan’s funeral service, held at the church he’d attended since he was born.  His parents were there, listening to the sermon but never really hearing it.  His father stared at the floor, unmoving and devastated.  But it was Juan’s little sister that completely tore Lee’s heart out.  Her small figure leaned against her mother and never stopped crying.

Even now, Lee could not get the images out of his memory.  Back home, he sat in his black computer chair, mourning his friend.  A young kid, fresh out of college, who believed in what they were doing at the Center as much as any of them.  Someone who was always there to help, every time he was needed.

The room, along with the rest of the building, was virtually silent.  The only detectable sound was the soft hum of IMIS’s cooling system.  Beyond that, Lee wallowed in the solitude.  Juan had given everything.  He loved the team.  He loved their mission.  But more than that, he loved his family, and especially his sister.

Lee pressed his lips together, fighting to keep the tears in while he remembered Juan’s face.  He was such a good friend.  And smart.  God, the kid was smart.  But now, now he was gone…forever.

Although there was one thing left.

He looked up when he heard the sound of voices coming from the lobby, on the other side of the large double doors.  He immediately stood up and waited in anticipation.  A few minutes later, one of the doors opened and DeeAnn Draper entered.  She was followed by three people and then Caesare, who stepped inside and eased the metal door shut.

Juan’s parents and his little sister Angelina had come back for a final visit.  Each of the three examined the room again with pained expressions, as if seeing Juan himself for the last time.

Lee approached but said nothing.

DeeAnn brushed a short lock of hair back past her ear and bent down.

“Are you okay, Angelina?”

Juan’s sister nodded.

“It doesn’t feel the same here, does it?”

She shook her head.

“It doesn’t feel the same for us either.”  DeeAnn glanced at her parents.  They didn’t have to know how much the team knew about their daughter’s disease.

“Angelina, I know Juan brought you here a lot to talk to the dolphins.  And we brought you here because they wanted to say hello.”

Angelina managed a grin and looked to the tank, where Dirk and Sally were waiting at the glass.

DeeAnn knelt down.  “Do you like talking to them?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she said.  She stole a look at Caesare, standing quietly behind them, and to Lee over her shoulder.

“Angelina, how would you like to swim with them?”

III

The night was still, without even a hint of a breeze through the large habitat.  On a soft bed of grass, Dulce lay quietly on the ground, listening to the sound of Dexter sleeping overhead in a small rosewood tree.

The young gorilla stood up and walked softly to the side wall, stopping at the large clear door.  After a moment, she stepped closer and studied the small security keypad that she had seen DeeAnn and the others use many times.  She tilted her head, then lifted her hand and pushed the same tiny squares in the way that they did.

Nothing happened.

Dulce tried again, more carefully.

A loud click sounded as the door’s lock disengaged.  She wrapped her long fingers around the handle and pulled.

She padded quietly down the hallway until reaching the double doors leading into the observation area.  She pulled one open and stepped inside, peering around at the darkened room.

On one side stood a row of machines with hundreds of blinking lights and on the other was a floor-to-ceiling wall of water, held back by glass similar to that used around her habitat.

She approached the glass wall and stared into the dark blue water at the two dolphins.  One of them opened its eyes and moved gently toward Dulce.

For several minutes, the two mammals stared curiously at one another.  Until IMIS detected Dulce in the room. And powered up the monitor and microphone on the desk beside her.

Ripple

Book Four

1

Les Gorski stared through his dark-framed glasses with a weary expression.  Most of the men before him were not the normal soldiers he was used to working with––those with a grizzled toughness and the ability to endure extreme conditions.

This group was very different.  Instead of fighters, these men were engineers.  Smarter in some ways, but greener.  Navy engineers who, along with Gorski and his own team, were there for one reason and one reason only.

Watching as the row of men donned their gear, Gorski turned around and glanced out over the emerald waters of the Caribbean Sea.  Gorski stood firmly on an oil platform approximately one hundred miles off the island of Trinidad.  All of it was nothing more than a cover, he mused.  A smoke screen.

A story concocted by the U.S. Navy, in which the obsolete oil platform had experienced a technical malfunction on its way back to the scrapyard.  But in reality, the Valant had been stopped precisely in its current location to conceal something discovered in the waters beneath it.  Something astonishing.  Something that could have been ripped straight from the pages of a conspiracy handbook.

But there was no conspiracy.

This time, it was real.  No painted stories or embellished eyewitness accounts.  In an ironic twist, it was much simpler than that.  The first verifiable extraterrestrial craft ever to be found on Earth.  Underwater and buried hundreds of feet beneath the coral.

That was why Gorski and the team were there.  Which now included his new group of soft and inexperienced divers.  There was however, one exception.

Gorski glanced back from the rising sun, down to the large face of his wristwatch.  They had to hurry.  They had precious little time to find out just what they were dealing with.  Before anyone else did.

***

Two stories above Gorski, Will Borger sat in a ratty old chair, staring at an even older CRT-style computer monitor.  The quarters module of the aged oil rig left a lot to be desired, both in terms of comfort and technology.  But it was good enough.  At least for this mission.

Borger’s large, overweight frame remained motionless as his eyes darted to a second monitor with a live feed of the dive team below him.  They were the engineers from the naval research ship Pathfinder, now anchored less than a thousand meters from the edge of the giant rig.

What they were doing had to be done quietly.  With the least amount of resources possible.  Not because of a lack of funding––Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller were making sure of that.  It was to avoid attention.  They couldn’t risk being noticed.  By anyone.  The official explanation for the oil rig and the Pathfinder ship was thin but just enough to keep the operation quiet and away from the attention of any other U.S. government entities.  And from the rest of the world.

Borger’s tired eyes returned to the first monitor, and back to one of the recordings the team had made beneath the surface.  Detailed images capturing large sections of the alien ship’s dark gray hull; smooth and unblemished.

So far they had only traced a small portion of the structure through the maze of coral and vegetation.  Two things had immediately become obvious, given its position and orientation.  The first was that the ship was big.  The second was that it hadn’t crashed.  It was buried.  Intentionally.

Borger crossed both arms over his large stomach, which rested beneath a loose-fitting blue and green Hawaiian shirt.  His steely eyes stared at the visible portion of the hull in the underwater video.

Dozens of questions raced through his mind.  Questions that couldn’t be answered.  Not yet.

Borger twisted slightly in the chair, causing it to squeak.  The room around him remained silent, much of its faded interior paint now peeling and giving way to dozens of small patches of rust.  However, the one thing Borger was extremely thankful for was the air conditioner.  Although on its last leg, it was still pumping out enough cool air to keep his perspiration to a minimum.

He leaned forward and began typing on the keyboard, zooming in on the video and playing the last part of it back.  Steve Caesare, one of the divers, could be seen touching the alien ship’s hull, brushing his hand firmly against it.  Each time he did so, a green glow appeared and traced his motion before fading again.  None of them, including Borger, had ever seen anything like it.  The effect was so strange that every time Borger watched it, the same thought ran through his mind: What the hell was that?

2

Half a mile away, aboard the Pathfinder, Neely Lawton had a similar thought.  As a systems biologist, Neely was staring at her own monitor, observing something very different taking place.  She was far more interested in the plants and vegetation surrounding the alien craft than the ship itself.  Or more precisely, the genetic behavior of those plants.

She breathed in, barely moving, watching the image on her screen with fascination.  A small dark-green tube from a sea whip lay on a flat glass Petri plate, positioned beneath a large Euromex biological microscope. Its powerful lens focused in on the severed end of the fibrous tube.

In silent amazement, Neely watched as the damaged cellulose fibers moved like tiny searching fingers.  Then very slowly, and one by one, the microscopic fingers found each other and began rebuilding, weaving themselves back together.  At a speed that was simply stunning.

It was only the second time she had ever seen it.   The first time happened with a different plant, pulled from the jungles of Guyana.  A plant that was very different.  But their structures, or more specifically their DNA, were very similar.  Both plants possessed the same incredible healing properties she was now witnessing.

The testing of the plant’s genetic behavior was easy to replicate.  And like the first sample, this one’s behavior also mimicked one of the smallest and most sinister living organisms known to man: the human cancer cell.

Yet, unlike a cancer cell, these plant cells were not dedicated to the growth of a deadly tumor.  The reconstruction witnessed here applied to all parts of the plant’s biological structure.  And it worked just as fast.

Another difference was that cancer cells were the result of a more natural biologic breakdown caused by damage to DNA base pairs of a cell’s genes.  The plant’s cells, on the other hand, had mutated as the result of a compound from the alien ship.  A catalyst they had yet to fully identify, let alone understand.

Neely bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the monitor.  From a scientific standpoint, the process she was witnessing was…almost magical.  Far beyond anything she ever expected to see in her lifetime.

But there was no denying it now.  Test after test showed the same behavior: a holy grail of modern biology.  The rapid-growth behavior of a cancer cell, without the horrific repercussions.

Yet as quickly as Neely Lawton’s excitement grew, a worry was also building.

Yes, the plant cells had a very similar DNA sequence to cancer, with none of the side effects.  At least none she could detect.  But the strain had yet to be studied in a larger, more complex environment.

Neely relaxed, then took a deep breath and stood up.  The small room had become uncomfortably quiet since the rest of her research team was abruptly reassigned to another ship.

It was all part of the ruse.

She faced another table with neatly organized testing equipment, including a small matrixed tray with thirty-six shallow Petri dishes, all containing a small amount of pink liquid.

In each, a small sample of the bacterium had been injected into a common microbiological nutrient broth.  And just as it had done previously aboard the Pathfinder’s sister ship Bowditch, the bacteria began to replicate.  Rapidly.

She reached down and pressed a button on her keyboard, causing the powerful electronic microscope to zoom out slightly.  The culture she had been watching was already growing too large to fit within the dish.  Splitting, and then in just thirty minutes, splitting again.

By tomorrow, the new cells would take over the broth and consume the entirety of the medium, exhausting its food supply.

As Neely continued staring down at the metal table, the same nagging question surfaced again: What was the catch?

Every breakthrough came with a cost.  Nothing was free in this world, especially in the field of science.  Each discovery, no matter how small or how profound, came with its own set of limitations.  Its own set of complications, and more specifically, its own rules.

Her overarching question was simple.  What was the bad news?

She folded her arms and frowned.  Pushing the thought away, she then glanced up through the front glass door of the short laboratory refrigerator where several stacks of test tubes were held firmly in place inside.  There, more of the bacteria were divided into small sample groups and held at near-freezing temperatures.

They had nearly lost it all––if not for the last remaining trace of extracted DNA, retrieved by a single man in one of the greatest acts of courage she had ever seen.

3

The man’s name was John Clay.

Considered attractive by most measures, and above average in height and build, Clay sat quietly on the edge of the large seawater tank in Puerto Rico.  He wore a slight frown on his face, his eyes closed.  Above him, the sky was filled with muted gray clouds.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded and opened his eyes, peering into the face of Alison Shaw, who sat near him.  Both had their legs dangling into the cool water of the research center’s giant tank.

“Can I help?”

“I’m okay,” he responded quietly.  With some effort, he pushed himself up straighter and grimaced at the pain.  His body was badly battered, deep purple bruises covering much of his chest and arms.  The exposed areas of his legs didn’t look much better.

Alison touched his arm gently.  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I don’t know that I’m sure of anything at the moment.”

She smiled.  “You can be sure about me.”

Through the lacerations on his face, his lips parted to reveal a warm smile.  His tanned jawline remained lean and strong.  “That, I know.”

His eyes stared back at her with deep affection before finally returning to the water.  Several feet away, two dolphins waited, their heads bobbing out of the water excitedly.

It had been almost a month since Clay had found himself literally moments away from death.  Saved only by his wits and a monumental stroke of luck.

He had only recently been released from the hospital in Honolulu and traveled back to Alison’s research center in Puerto Rico.

It was her idea.

Alison shared with him what had happened with a young girl named Sofia, who was suffering from leukemia.  It might have been easy to dismiss the event if it had not also happened with Juan’s younger sister.  And if Clay and Alison hadn’t known what was really behind the miracles.  Which was their discovery near Trinidad.

Now Clay sat on the concrete edge of the tank with Dirk and Sally waiting.

You come now.

The translation emanated from a computerized vest worn by Alison.

Clay grinned and replied, “Easy, Dirk.  I’m feeling rather old at the moment.”

Dirk opened his mouth and wiggled his head, and the vest responded with a sound Alison knew to be laughter.

Sitting beside him, her eyes narrowed momentarily as she wondered if Dirk had just gotten John’s joke.

She let the thought go when Clay groaned and moved himself forward.  He felt silly with the floatation belt wrapped around him but the less he had to move to keep afloat, the better.  And under the circumstances, Clay decided pride was the least of his worries.

With gritted teeth, he eased himself into the water and immediately bobbed back up to shoulder level.  His arms gently waved back and forth, providing just enough motion to keep his body upright.

Alison slipped in behind him and floated close by.  Her eyes filled with empathy.  Clay was not one to complain.  Not surprising giving his previous life in the Navy, but it pained her heart to see him in so much agony––a suffering she could do so little about.  Except for getting him here and into this water, along with whatever miraculous properties it contained.

It did help.   Just the sensation of being back in the water helped Clay relax, allowing his face to soften as he floated effortlessly on his back.

Dirk’s head abruptly rose from the water beside him.  After staring at John, he spoke, and Alison rushed to get her earbuds in for the translation.

She chuckled.   “He’s worried about you.  When humans don’t move in the water, it’s not a good sign.”

Clay laughed.  “Tell him, this time I’m not trapped underwater inside a ship.”

Alison slipped her facemask over the top of her head and spoke back to Dirk through the mask’s microphone.  She then shook her head.  “IMIS can’t translate trapped.”

“That’s all right.”  Clay rose back up to a vertical position.  “It just feels good to be back in the water again.”

“As opposed to a hospital bed?”

“Exactly.”

Alison reached out to pet the top of Sally’s head.  “How are you, Sally?”

Me good.  How you Alison?

“Better.”

We miss.

Alison cocked her head.  Sally hadn’t used that phrase before.  It was a new translation.  “I missed you too.”

You home now.  We talk.

“Yes, we can talk more.”

Learn.

Alison glanced at Clay, who was listening to her muffled voice.  “What would you like to learn, Sally?”

We learn people.  After a pause, Sally finished the sentence.  You learn us.

“We’d like that.”

Clay turned to Dirk who was still staring curiously at him.  With a wince, he raised a hand and patted Dirk’s leathery gray head.  “I’m fine, Dirk.  I promise.”

Sally was still attentively watching Alison, seeming to smile.  There was something in Sally’s face, in her mouth, that Alison was able to recognize.  She wasn’t sure what it was––perhaps a slight change in the curvature of Sally’s mouth, or maybe just a feeling, but she could tell.  Sally was smiling at her.

How you…

There was a pause in the translation––a sign that Lee Kenwood had explained as a conflict.  A moment where the IMIS system was unsure of the right word given the context.  When it made its decision, the word finally sounded through her earbuds.

…love?

Alison was taken aback by the question.  How do we love?  She couldn’t help but glance over at Clay, floating quietly.  Did she love Clay?  Yes, she did.

She had just spent a month with him at the hospital.  And he amazed her now even more than before.  His injuries were extensive, but he barely complained.  Instead, he was driven more by a feeling of gratefulness than anything else.  Nor would he tell her everything that happened to him in China.  He refused to burden her with it.  With the visual images of what he must have endured.  What he did reveal to her, however, was that at a certain point he was convinced that he wouldn’t be coming back.  And what he said then brought Alison to tears.  In his darkest moments, it was thinking of her that got him through it.

Just thinking of his story caused tears to begin welling up again in her eyes.  Alison quickly shook her head and focused more intently on Sally who was still waiting for an answer.  There was something about the way she asked the question that left Alison doubtful of the translation.  She didn’t think those feelings were what Sally meant by love.

“How you love?” Alison repeated to herself.  “How you…love.”  Love could be used in so many ways.  In this case, it wasn’t a noun.  It sounded like Sally was using it as a verb.

Alison looked again to Clay who was looking at her curiously.  He hadn’t heard the translation.

Sally repeated the question.  How you love?

Alison opened her mouth but closed it again.  Finally, she shook her head.  “I...don’t understand.”

How love Alison?  How people love?

It took Alison a full minute to eventually get it.  To finally understand what Sally meant.  It wasn’t until she turned the question around and considered what were the most common, and perhaps most primal, questions humans asked when discovering a new species.  What Sally was asking was not how humans actually love one another, but rather how humans reproduce.

Clay now peered at her more intently. A nervous expression crept across Alison’s face inside her mask.

Under the circumstances, she wasn’t about to touch Sally’s question with a ten-foot pole.

4

DeeAnn Draper stood silently beneath the large netted ceiling of the habitat.  Her hands on her hips, she watched as Dulce studied the object in her human-like hands.  It was an old Rubik’s cube, and the young gorilla was absolutely fascinated by it.

Of course, DeeAnn held no expectation of her solving the puzzle. Although from an educational standpoint, it helped Dulce better understand the concepts of three dimensions and patterns while improving her fine motor skills.  Pattern recognition was a key element in gauging intelligence and overall cognitive ability.  But what interested DeeAnn even more, was the small capuchin’s interest in the cube.

Sitting on a large rock next to Dulce, the more reserved monkey Dexter was also studying the toy intently.  When Dulce would periodically turn one side of the cube, Dexter promptly cocked his head and studied the bottom of it.  It reaffirmed her belief in how intelligent the older creature really was.

DeeAnn’s thoughts drifted momentarily to her old friend Luke Greenwood, the man who had discovered Dexter and the first to suspect just how special the capuchin was.  A discovery that ultimately cost Greenwood his life and very nearly DeeAnn’s.

But Greenwood’s instincts had proved correct.  So far, every test DeeAnn had administered clearly substantiated his hunch.  For a capuchin, Dexter’s intelligence was literally off the charts.

DeeAnn’s phone suddenly chimed, and she reached down to retrieve it from her pocket.  It was a message she’d been expecting.  She looked back at the two primates.

“Dulce, I will be back soon.  Okay?”

The young gorilla looked away from the cube and blinked happily at DeeAnn with her soft hazel eyes.

Okay.

DeeAnn smiled and looked at Dexter, who had not taken his eyes off the cube.  She then glanced around the habitat, noting the dozens of high-resolution cameras surrounding them.  It was peculiar.  Using a wireless connection to the IMIS computer system, the vest translated everything Dulce said.  At least to her.

What it wasn’t translating was anything Dulce said to Dexter.  Even when they were clearly communicating with one another.  One of DeeAnn’s former colleagues had published the first examples of instinctive gesturing between primates, and DeeAnn continued to witness it now firsthand.  But the IMIS system, even as powerful as it was, was not picking up any of it.

It was very peculiar.

Something she would have to bring up with Lee again.  When he was ready.

She let herself out through the wide glass door before reaching down and turning off the power to the vest.  She had something more important to talk to Lee about right now.  They all did.

***

Lee Kenwood looked up as Alison and Clay entered the computer lab.  The large metal door swung closed behind them with a loud click, and Lee instinctively rose from his chair to get Clay a seat.

Clay crossed the room on his crutches and smiled.  “Thank you, Lee.  I think I’ll stand for a bit.”

Lee nodded and looked up to see the door open a second time, with DeeAnn stepping quietly inside.  He looked back to Alison and Clay.

“What’s up?”

The lab was quiet, eerily so.  In the absence of their colleagues Juan Diaz and Chris Ramirez, the entire research center didn’t feel quite right.  It felt…empty.

Alison smiled as she approached.  “What are you working on?”

Lee turned back to his monitor with a solemn expression.  “Uh, just some coding.  Trying to improve the pattern recognition between multiple—” He suddenly stopped himself and shrugged.  “Nothing important.”

Alison put a gentle hand on his arm.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.  Just…kind of having a hard time with it all.”

“We all are,” DeeAnn replied softly.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Lee,” Alison said, “we need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About Juan and Chris.  About what’s been happening.”

Lee glanced at each of them.  “What do you mean?”

“I think you know what I mean.”

“Uh…”

“Lee, you’ve been friends with Juan and Chris for a while.  So I’m sure they’ve told you some things, not to mention what you’ve already witnessed firsthand.  I’m betting you know quite a lot.”

Lee displayed a subtle but nervous grin.  He eventually turned his attention to Clay, who was watching him intently.  “Well, I know some things.”

Clay took a deep breath.  “Have a seat, Lee.”

“Okay.”  He reached back for the arm of his chair and lowered himself down.

“Tell us what you know.”

“Well, I saw what happened with Sofia.  And what happened with us.  Like my ribs.  And how fast they healed.  Chris did tell me about the plants.  The ones in South America and then the ones you found in the ocean.”  He paused.  “And…I’ve also been reading through IMIS’s translation logs.”

Clay nodded.  “Then I’m guessing you know even more about what we found in Guyana.”

“Some.”

“That’s what Juan was killed over,” Clay said.

“Yeah…I know that too.”

“And then we found something related.  Near Trinidad.”

“Where all the plants and dolphins are.”

“Correct.”  Clay glanced at Alison before continuing.  “Lee, what we’re about to tell you is highly secret.  It cannot be repeated to anyone.  Ever.”

“Including your wife,” Alison added.

“Okaaay.”

“It’s a ship, Lee.  It’s an alien ship.”

Lee’s eyes instantly widened.  “What?!”

“A spaceship, hidden beneath the coral.  And what we found in Guyana came from that ship.”

“What was it?”

Clay stopped and took a step back, leaning against the edge of a large metal table.  “Embryos.  Millions of embryos.  In perfect hibernation.  Buried inside a mountain.”

“No way!”

Clay grinned.  “We’re pretty sure those embryos were transported on the ship we found.  Brought here and intentionally hidden.”

Lee blinked in fascination.  “When?”

“We’re not sure,” Alison answered.  “But we know it was a long, long time ago.”

Lee sat in stunned silence.  He continued staring at them, trying to grasp the meaning behind all of what they just said.  His reaction felt strange.  After all the years of speculation, of movies and stories about aliens, now for it to actually be real, felt…odd.

“So…what do you need from me?”

Clay rested his weight onto one of the crutches.  “We need you because we don’t think the place we found in Guyana is the only one.”

“You think there’s more?!”

Clay nodded.  “One more.  Hidden somewhere in Africa.”

The younger Lee looked back and forth between them again.  “How do you know that?”

“We’re theorizing,” DeeAnn answered.  “The place we found in Guyana was hidden inside solid rock.  But everything, even rock, eventually erodes.  It eroded there.  Enough to let some of what was inside trickle out and seep into the water.  Which is how it reached the plants.  We think it’s what caused the changes in Dexter too.”

“The monkey.”

“Yes.  He’s old, Lee.  Very old.  Much older than he’s supposed to be.  And he’s smarter than any primate I’ve ever seen before.  You’ve witnessed some of the tests.”

Lee turned and looked at his monitor at the live video feed from the habitat downstairs.  “I didn’t realize…”  He let his voice trail off before clearing his throat.  “So, what does this all mean?”

“It means there might be more of what changed him still out there.  And if there is, we have to find it, before someone else does.”

“It extends your age?”

“It’s more than that,” Alison said.  “It accelerates healing and slows aging to almost nothing.  In fact, it might even reverse it.”

“We saw it happen,” Clay nodded.  “Onboard the Bowditch, while you and Chris were in sickbay.  But the ship was attacked and the Chinese destroyed whatever was still left in Guyana.  They were not about to let anyone else have it.”

Lee looked intently at DeeAnn.  “And that’s what you and Juan went back for.”

“Yes.”

Lee fell silent for several minutes.  His eyes grew somber as his brain worked to piece things together.  When he finally looked up again, a glint of determination could be seen in his tired eyes.  “So, if there’s another location out there, we have to find it before the Chinese.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we know where it is?”

To that, Clay turned to DeeAnn.

“No,” she said.  “Not really.  The reason we think there’s a second site is because of our own genetics.”  She paused, then took a deep breath.  “We think what we found in Guyana changed Dexter’s DNA.  We think the same thing may have happened to the dolphins and their DNA based on the plants we found underwater.  And we think it may have happened with humans too.”

Lee’s eyes grew wide again.  “You think it influenced human DNA?”

“It’s possible.  A discovery by a research group recently found very similar brain types existing between just a few different species on Earth.  Brains that not only evolved to have very similar designs and functions but share common genes that affect brain development.  So similar, in fact, that the chances of this happening independently through evolution is almost nil.  Dolphins, humans, and primates all have practically identical looking brain designs.  What differences there are tend to be rather slight.  Things that affect size and weight.  The discovery by that team was called the Trio Brain theory.”

Lee was still incredulous.  “Wait.  If whatever it was you found is responsible for Dexter’s DNA, and Sally and Dirk’s, you think it could be responsible for ours too?”

“Correct.  Probably a long time ago, and much earlier on our evolutionary path.  And probably close to where humans first originated.  In Africa.”

“Wow,” Lee said, shaking his head.  “Just wow!  If you’re right, then that’s huge!”

Clay continued.  “And there’s more.  But before we go any further, you need to decide on your level of participation.”

Lee leaned forward in his chair.  “I’m in.  I’m definitely in.”

“It’s not that easy, Lee.  Alison, DeeAnn, and I are now part of a very small team that knows.  Some, like you, now have pieces of what we’ve found so far, but not everything.”

Alison nodded.  “No one knows what is happening here, Lee.  Or how big this is.  Not the public, not even the military beyond our core team.”

“And no one can find out,” Clay finished.

Lee’s expression abruptly changed.  “Wait a minute.  You’ve already told me a lot.  At what point do I know too much?”

“We want you, Lee.  We want you and your skills on the team.”

“And what if I say no?”

Clay shrugged.  “We’re not going to make you disappear if that’s what you’re asking.  The government has far more sophisticated ways of keeping people quiet.  Better ways to deal with loose ends.”

A sudden look of worry passed over Lee’s face before Alison shook her head at Clay with mock displeasure.  “Stop that.”

Clay laughed.

“Oh my God,” Lee exhaled.  “I thought you were serious.”

DeeAnn’s eyes were also wide.  “So did I.”

Clay’s laugh faded, and he grew serious again.  “I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t dangerous.  The Chinese killed a lot of people, including Juan, and destroyed an entire mountain to try to hide it.  Which should give you an indication of just how far people are willing to go for this.”

“How many people are on this team?”

“Myself, Ali, DeeAnn, Steve Caesare, and Will Borger.  Plus, Admiral Langford and Secretary of Defense Miller.  A few others have some limited involvement, but they only know what they have to.”

Lee sat quietly, thinking.

“This is big, Lee,” Alison said softly.  “Really big.  Some of the biggest questions we’ve ever had, not just as a civilization but as a species, might just get answered.”

DeeAnn shrugged.  “Or they might not.”

“True.”

“Before you say yes,” Clay added, “there are a few things you need to understand.  There are caveats.  Steps that will need to be taken to ensure no one finds out what we’re really after.  And I mean no one.”

“What kind of caveats?”

“No contact with family or friends.  At least for a while.  We’d have to make an exception for your wife under strict guidance, but you’d be away from her for at least a few months.  Maybe more.  You would have to tell everyone else that you were off the grid, on a remote project.”

Lee frowned.

“Phones would be restricted to only a few numbers, and encrypted.”  Clay paused and took a deep breath.  The next part was something he hadn’t spoken to the others about yet, not even Ali.  But Langford and Miller were adamant.

“There’s something else too,” he said, his gaze turning to Alison.  “And it’s something none of you are going to like…at all.”

Ripple

(Available at Amazon.com)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Michael Grumley is a self-published writer who lives in Northern California with his wife and two young daughters.  His email address is michael@michaelgrumley.com, and his web site is www.michaelgrumley.com.

Message from the author

I must admit, when I started the Breakthrough story I had no idea of what reaction I might receive.  But I was hopeful.  After all, who doesn’t like dolphins?  However, the overwhelming response after the first book was published was something I wasn’t expecting.

Not only do most people like the story, but the excitement over the idea of connecting with another intelligent species on our own planet seems to resonate far deeper than I had expected.

Moreover, it’s not just that people like dolphins, it’s more that practically everyone seems to love dolphins.  There are of course exceptions, but the consensus among the rest of us makes me wonder if there is indeed some innate love for these creatures bubbling beneath the surface.

Perhaps it’s why so many of us are fascinated with the idea of extraterrestrials.  An idea that we are not alone and that humans just might not be the pinnacle of life in the universe.

Nevertheless, I’m glad you’ve enjoyed this story so far.  Of course, it’s not over.  And if by chance you found yourself disappointed at the absence of Palin or his people in the last book, do not despair.  Their story is just beginning.

Finally, if you could please spare a moment and leave a review for this book set, or even a post on your favorite social website, I would be very grateful.

As for myself, I’ll be working on the next Breakthrough book.

Thank you,

Michael

Click here to write a review for the BREAKTHROUGH BOX SET

BOOKS BY MICHAEL C. GRUMLEY

BREAKTHROUGH

LEAP

CATALYST

RIPPLE