Meg: Hell's Aquarium (33 page)

“Why are they doing that?”

“Keeps the animals aggressive,” Sara lies. “Would you pay sixty to a hundred dollars to see two young sharks swimming peacefully in their tank?”

“I would!” Evan’s son, Max, climbs out of the pool, dripping water everywhere.

Lana wraps him in a towel. “My grandson loves sharks.”

“We love sharks, too,” Sara says. “That’s why we want to save them. Two of Angel’s pups have already died, thanks to the recklessness of Jonas Taylor and the Tanaka Institute.”

“What happens if you release these two Megs?” Evan asks. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Not really. As your grandson probably knows, Megalodon isn’t interested in hunting humans; we’re far too small and lean to be part of their diet. The Monterey Bay Sanctuary offers a protected environment where Lizzy and Belle can live out their lives, feeding off of sea elephants and whales.”

“It’s the way nature intended,” Jessica adds.

“What about that college student who . . . you know—” Lana covers her grandson’s ears, “—was eaten.”

“Lana, these accidents are always a result of humans foolishly trying to domesticate wild animals, in this case for greed.” Sara motions to the R.A.W. decal on the DVD player. “Returning Animals to the Wild. That’s what we do. And we need your help.”

“What would this involve?”

“Personal appearances, interviews. We want you to become the face of our organization, sort of like Pamela Anderson has done with our sister organization, PETA.”

“I don’t want to be associated with radicals, Ms. Toms. If I do this, you have to agree to tone things down. No more goons picketing the Tanaka Institute or pelting their employees with eggs. My road’s the high road, ladies. Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” Sara says. “The truth is, we’ve been wanting to humanize our image for quite a while now. And we hope you’ll be there the day we succeed in finally setting these wonderful animals free.” She looks at Jessica. “Anything you want to add?”

“Just a quick question, Ms. Wood. When you were making that Bond movie . . . did you ever sleep with Sean Connery?”

Dubai Land
Dubai, United Arab Emirates

A brilliant speck of sun drops beneath the veil of purple clouds on the distant horizon. Swathing the heavens in its fading orange glow.

David watches the sunset from his bed. He is alone, but Kaylie is everywhere—her scent on his skin, her taste on his lips—

—her absence in his heart.

Their first sexual encounter had been quick and filled with lust, but when it was over, they had simply lain in bed and held one another, their passion evolving into something far deeper.

For the rest of the afternoon they had made love.

When they had finished, Kaylie curled herself naked against his body, and they slept on into the evening. When David awoke, he was alone, Kaylie in the living room, holding the opened manila envelope.

“Well?”

She looked up at him, a bit shocked. “I made it. I made the cut.”

“That’s . . . great,” he muttered, feeling empty inside. “You okay? You don’t seem that excited.”

She wiped away a tear, forcing a smile. “No. This is . . . it’s good. It’s what I wanted . . . I have to shower. We have a meeting in an hour.”

“The mission. Does it say where you’ll be going?”

“No. Only that we leave tomorrow morning at five.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure. Six months? David—”

“It’s okay. I’m happy for you.”

“When I get back to the States, I’ll come visit you in Gainesville.”

“Yeah, that would be great. I was thinking . . . I only need twenty credits to graduate. I can load up on courses in the fall, maybe get out early.”

“What about football?”

“Forget football. I’d rather be with you.”

They had held one another as if slow dancing, not wanting to let go, knowing their paths had crossed in one exquisite moment. Now the moment was over, their destinies leading them in different directions.

“David, come with me. At least for the summer. Or until school starts. I can talk to Captain Suits. He’d add you to the team in a heartbeat.”

“I can’t. They hired me to teach the staff about caring for the Meg.”

“She’s doing fine. You’re more valuable to them as a pilot.”

“It’s not just that. My father . . . I promised him I’d stay in Dubai until school started. What if you stayed here with me? Dr. Becker lost one of her staff. What if I spoke to her about hiring you? You worked in the Scripps Aquarium—”

“David, I can’t. As much as I want to be with you, passing up an opportunity to stock the aquarium with rare species . . . the experience . . . the money—”

“No, I understand. I wouldn’t want you to give that up.”

She touched his cheek, kissing him. “It’s not the end. Finish school, I’ll do my thing, then we’ll find a way to be together.”

The sun dips below the Persian Gulf, bleeding the horizon red. David remains in bed, watching dusk yield to another Arabian night. The emptiness the twenty-year-old feels is palpable, a pain he has never experienced before. In the past four years he has dated no fewer than a dozen girls, two having turned into relationships—one in high school, the last in college. He had used the “love word” freely, the phrase uttered mostly because it was expected of him. Sure, he had felt something—

—but nothing like this. These feelings actually hurt. They were making him crazy. It was as if he were experiencing every hokey love song he had ever despised, like he was trapped in his own skin. How could he expect to get through the rest of the night, let alone the entire summer feeling like this? It felt as if his soul was being ripped out of him, and all he wanted to do was wallow in the pain.

“Geez, snap out of it! You’re whining like a little bitch.”

He checks the clock by his bed: 7:18.

She’s at the meeting. Probably won’t be through until ten, maybe midnight. Figure four more hours. Do something. Don’t just sit around and wait for her. Have some pride.

Rolling out of bed, he pulls on his jeans and tee-shirt, deciding to head over to the aquarium.

The
Ancient Seas
restaurant occupies the Devonian hotel’s entire fortieth floor. The circular chamber rotates counterclockwise on its floorplate, one full rotation an hour, offering its diners a 360-degree view of Dubai Land.

Kaylie Szeifert leans forward against a padded guardrail, sipping the remains of a diet soda as she gazes out the scenic bay windows. The park is dark, save for patches of construction lights and the twelve illuminated, gold-plated shark fins surrounding the aquarium.

As she watches, a solitary figure crosses over one of the bridges.

David . . .

Her eyes follow him as he reaches the third floor pavilion. He tries several doors until he gains entry into the facility.

Maybe I shouldn’t see him tonight . . . it’ll just make things worse. He’s so young . . . where did you think this could go? You knew better . . . the last thing you needed was to complicate things. These kind of relationships rarely ever work . . . eventually he’d give up his dreams to pursue yours or you’d give in to follow his. Career first . . . that was the deal.

She turns to face the room, taking in the other seven candidates.

Six men, one other woman. Smile, Kaylie, you beat the odds. You made the cut.

So why am I feeling so lost?

Brian Suits saunters over, carrying two cold bottles of beer. He offers her one.

“No, thank you, sir.”

“Sir is for when we’re in training. Call me Brian.” He takes a quick swig. “What’s wrong? I expected you to be all smiles.”

“Just a little tired, sir—er, Brian. Will you be debriefing us tonight?”

“No. Tonight is more of a social event. I want the team to get to know one another.” He hands her the beer and clinks her bottle with his. “May you work like you don’t need the money, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, screw like it’s being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman. Cheers.”

She smiles. “Cheers.” And drains the bottle.

“Alright, everyone, gather around and have a seat. Come on, all of you.”

The group joins Brian Suits and Kaylie at the banquet table. “Big day tomorrow, the first of many. I’m sure you’re excited, confused, maybe a little fearful. Good. Fear has its place. You conquer fear by being prepared. Preparation breeds success—success, confidence. That’s why you were selected: because we liked your swagger.

“I remember the night before I was to ship out on my first tour of duty. My C.O., a crafty Navy vet by the name of Michael John Selby, got us all quite inebriated. Under the haze of alcohol I heard him utter these famous words: ‘Some Guinness was spilt on the barroom floor when the pub was shut for the night. When out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse who stood in the pale moonlight. He lapped up the frothy foam from the floor, then back on his haunches he sat. And all night long, you could hear the mouse roar . . . bring on the goddamn cat!’ ”

“Hell yes!” The group raises their glasses and drinks.

Brian drains his beer. “The cat, or cats, as the case may be, await us in the depths of the briny deep, where it will be our job to flush them out. Make no mistake. It’s dangerous work; for we are to be the mouse. Do your jobs, and you’ll return safely with plenty of cheese. How much, you ask? If your team’s among the best, upwards of a million dollars a piece. Maybe more.”

Smiles and whistles. Several of the men high-five.

“Bring on the goddam cat, Captain!”

“Easy now. As I said, it’s dangerous work, and you’re not the only crew. Two other teams have been out there fishing over the last five months. They’re ahead of you in experience, but they haven’t been using anything like our Manta Rays. Plus, they don’t have yours truly as their trainer.”

The group applauds and whoops, Kaylie among them.

“We’ll kick their asses, Captain!”

“Damn straight. Especially for a million bucks.”

“This isn’t a game!” Brian Suits slams both palms to the table, his sudden change in demeanor silencing the room. “Cockiness leads to mistakes. Make a mistake out there, and you can die real fast. We’ve lost three pilots already, and they logged more dive hours than all of you combined!”

Eight pairs of eyes lock on to Brian Suits.

“That’s right. Three dead pilots. Or did you think Mr. bin Rashidi has so much money he just gives it away? No, children, this money you’ll earn. Each of you had better bring your A-game, because these depths are unforgiving, and some of these cats have sharp claws. Of course—” he grins, “—the nastier the cat, the bigger the bonus.”

Kaylie feels her legs trembling.
They already have a Meg, what else could be out there?

Brian grabs another beer from a waiter then points to the man seated to his right. “You, Mr. Slabine, stand and tell us about yourself.”

The slender, dark-haired man with the scar slicing through his right eyebrow stands. “Marcus Joseph Slabine, U.S. Navy, retired. I served two years aboard the
USS Seawolf
as a sonar tech. If these ‘cats’ are out there, you can bet your ass I’ll find ‘em. Oh, and I also do a killer impression of Jerry Seinfeld.” He clears his throat. “Newman . . .”

The others laugh and applaud, the tension easing for the moment.

“Mr. Hoch.”

A short, lean man with a marathon runner’s physique stands. “Jeffrey Arthur Hoch, but most people call me Minister. I’m actually an ordained minister, though I had a falling out with my denomination several years ago; they were becoming a bit too radical for me, ranting about evolution and such. Like Marcus, I served aboard a submarine, the
USS Wyoming,
one of the Ohio Class subs that carry nuclear ballistic missiles. I’ve spent the last five years as a firefighter, completing over a thousand calls. Pressure doesn’t bother me, in fact, I enjoy it. I’m married with five daughters, so you can imagine why I need the money.”

“Five girls . . . you should get a medal for bravery. Mr. Shiffman?”

“David Samuel Shiffman. My friends call me Shiff. Duke University. Degree’s in marine biology. I’m into experiences. Been to six continents, lived out in the wild, climbed mountains, piloted private mini-subs, and I’m just beginning. I keep a running list of things I want to do before I die. The list totals four thousand.”