From the Deep (12 page)

CHAPTER 27

Clara lay on her bunk in the darkness, plagued by the gnawing feeling that something was desperately wrong. Beside her on the floor, partially illuminated by the moonlight, was a large map. From the research she had done, she had narrowed the creature’s possible location to three places, none of which was where they currently were. She had deliberately guided them to the wrong region because she needed time to think. As sure as she was that she could keep Andrews chasing shadows for as long as she needed to, Russo was a different beast altogether. He was clever, crafty, manipulative, and driven, and it was him alone that had made her reluctant to lead them to where she actually thought this creature may be. She also wanted to know more about what Project Blue was. She had been in some conflict about what she was about to do, and now thought she had built up enough courage to go ahead. It had all been worked out. Dexter was in the wheelhouse under the pretence of pouring over some new underwater charts. His real purpose for being there was to keep an eye on Russo. She checked her watch in the gloom, the illuminated display telling her it was a little after nine.

It was time.

Before she could change her mind, she got up, exited her cabin, and walked down the corridor to Russo’s room. Without hesitation, she slipped the door open and went inside. Even at a glance, it was obvious the room was inhabited by a man with a military background. Everything was pristine - what she would deem to be overly neat. She looked at the bed and knew if she had a coin and dropped it on the cover, it would bounce.  

Russo’s briefcase was by the bathroom door. She hesitated. Right now if she were caught, she still hadn’t done anything wrong. That saying about what curiosity did to the cat popped up in her mind for a split second as she walked towards the case. She crouched and snapped open the clasp. Neat brown folders were lined up inside with the same obsessive tidiness that was on display through the room. She carefully removed them and began to skim through, hoping whatever she was looking for would jump out at her when she saw it. The first few were nothing special. News reports and profiles on the creature, requisition orders to hire the boat, and profiles on the crew, she and Dexter included. Curious and angry, she skimmed her own file, wondering what they were saying about her. There was nothing in there but the most basic of information pulled from public records. It offered a very one dimensional and flat profile of her as an individual. She half suspected this was how Russo viewed everyone. Either way, the sheer volume of information they had been able to gather without her permission was staggering.  Conscious that time was of the essence, she moved on. There was a file on the
Victorious
,  expenses forms for the duration of the mission, documents on the mass beaching’s, and a report about an incident involving a whaler that had sunk off the coast of Hawaii, killing all on board. None of it was out of the ordinary, and there was no mention of Project Blue anywhere to be seen.  She replaced the folders and was about to close the case when she noticed an extra pocket which was hidden against the seam of the lining. Without allowing her rational inner voice to interject, she reached in and pulled out the folder that was nestled inside. She knew immediately this was what she had been looking for. The pale brown folder was stamped in red ink with the words ‘EYES ONLY’, and she hesitated before opening it.

She asked herself if she really wanted to know, if she really want to get involved. If not, now was the time to go back to doing what she was hired for. Before she could talk herself out of it, Clara opened the folder and started to read.

PROJECT BLUE

P/N: 85485743234

CONFIDENTIAL

As her eyes devoured the words, her adrenaline morphed to horror at what Russo was planning to do. She had to tell someone about this and put a stop to it. She closed the folder and shoved it back in the briefcase, now more afraid of Russo than she was before. Standing to leave, she turned towards the door, a scream launching into her throat which she somehow managed to swallow.

Russo was watching her from the doorway, a cocky half smile on his lips.

“You probably shouldn’t have done that.”

“I want off this boat. Take me back to shore.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“You can’t keep me here,” Clara said, striding towards him.

“Yes, I can. Give me your phone please.”

“Screw you, I don’t answer to you.” She was shaking, yet it was more from anger than fear.

His face changed. She wasn’t sure what it was, but there was a subtle shift that made her even more afraid than she had been already.

“Don’t force me into doing something we’ll both regret. Phone. Please.”

In no position to argue, she handed over the handset and watched as Russo removed the battery, and then pulled out the sim card.

“You can’t keep me here as a prisoner. You still need my help.” She said, her voice wavering as she spoke.

Russo grinned, his friendly mask firmly back in place.

“Prisoner? That’s a little bit dramatic.”

She looked at him, still afraid to move. He laughed, a short deep bark that sounded decidedly unnatural coming from him.

“You look terrified! What, did you think it would be like in the movies, where I would shoot you on the spot and throw you overboard? The real world isn’t quite so exciting I’m afraid.”

“Then let me go.”

He held up his hands and turned to the side.

“Be my guest.” He said, clearly enjoying every second of her discomfort.

She walked towards the door, and turned to squeeze past him. Their bodies touched as she brushed past, and just as it looked like she would be free, Russo slammed his arm against the doorframe, blocking her in. They were now inches apart, and Russo leaned close, whispering in her ear, his minty breath hot on her cheek.

“You are treading a very thin line, Miss Thompson. Rather than looking into things which don’t concern you, perhaps you might be served better looking for the thing we’re paying you to find.”

He smiled and leaned back, lowering his arm so she could squeeze past and into the corridor. She walked away, trying not to let him see her shaking, or the tears which were threatening to escape as she hurried towards her room.

“Time to stop wasting our time, Miss Thompson. Either find us our beast, or I will be forced to get someone in who will.”

CHAPTER 28

Gulf of Alaska

13.20pm

Ox gritted his teeth and strained his arms as he tried in vain to control the fishing rod.

“Easy,” Rainwater said with a smile, “you might have something big here.”

“Feels god damn huge,” Ox grunted, straining against the tension of the wire.

“For someone who hasn’t fished before, you are doing okay.”

“That’s all well and good, now what the hell do I do next?”

“Relax, give out a little slack.”

“I thought I was supposed to be reeling the damn thing in?”

“You are, but you have to let the fish tire itself out first.”

Rainwater grinned and watched as Ox did as he was told.

“You think this guy knows what he’s doing, Rainwater?”

“Who, the fish?”

“No, man, not the fish. This Morrison character. First, he has us out in the Bering Sea, and now we’re changing direction again. It don’t seem like he’s a man with a plan that’s all.”

“At least we’re moving away from the storm. The reports are saying it’s looking like a nasty one.”

“Yeah,” Ox said, squinting at the sun. “Truth is, storm or sun, I’m starting to get tired of this trip. Next time we stop for fuel, I might well stay on shore and let you guys get on with what you need to do.”

“And miss the California sun?” Rainwater said with a grin.

“It’s not that, man.” Ox said as he worked the reel. “I don’t know what we’re trying to prove here. To be honest, I thought this was all bullshit, an excuse to get away from the wife for a few days, but now…”

“You didn’t believe it, and now you do, right?”

Ox relaxed his grip on the fishing rod, allowing the reel to unfurl as the unseen catch made its escape. He turned towards Rainwater, his brow furrowed into a frown.

“Look, man, don’t take it personally, it’s just… well, who would? Sea monsters and shit ain’t real. Or at least that’s what I thought. Now it’s all over the news and I’m not so sure we should be screwing with this thing.  I’m an engineer, not an adventurer.”

“Look, Ox, it’s alright. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be. This isn’t your fight, I understand what you’re saying.”

“Can I ask you something?” Ox asked, squinting against the sun.

“Shoot.”

”Why don’t you forget all this? You seem like a good guy. Maybe you shouldn’t be out lookin’ for somethin’ that could kill you. Seems to me life’s too short to flirt with death all the time.”

Rainwater walked to the stern and leaned on the transom, looking at his grubby sneakers for a moment as the boat sliced through the ocean.

“I don’t really know how to explain it,” he said eventually. “It’s something I have to do.”

“You must have a reason though, right? Nobody does shit like this without a damn good reason.”

“I just know I have to find this thing.”

“What then, man? What happens when you find it? I’m sure as shit this little boat ain’t gonna be enough to stop it. Not if it’s as big as the news reports are saying.”

Rainwater had no answer, and so looked out to sea, enjoying the feeling of the sun as it warmed his face.

“Not that it matters anyway,” Ox added. “Because this dude who is meant to be guiding us after this thing, don’t seem to have a damn clue what to do.”

“Interesting.”  Morrison said as he walked out on deck. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, looking out to sea as he did so. Ox and Rainwater shared a quick glance, then waited and watched Morrison smoke.

“This creature,” he said between exhales, “has been feeding in warm Californian waters, which is where we’re heading now. However, most of the disturbances to marine life have taken place in colder climates. The Siberian and Bering seas, which is why we were checking that area first. I thought the Bering Sea was a perfectly logical place to begin. My best guess is our fish feeds every two to three days. Something of that size would have to take on an extraordinary amount of energy from feeding, and so my hope now is to catch him in the act, so to speak. That’s why we’re changing direction again. The recent series of attacks, beaching’s, and whale kills, certainly suggests we are heading the right way.”

“Hey, man, no offence, I was just wondering what the score was.” Ox said, flicking his eyes towards Rainwater, who was watching the conversation unfold.

“It’s just that… well, you don’t say much that’s all.”

“I don’t have much to say. My job is to track this fish. Not make small talk.”

“Come on, man, we’re all stuck on this boat together, no harm in getting to know each other.”

Morrison said nothing. He stared at Ox and shrugged his shoulders.

“All you need to know is that it won’t be long until I locate this fish. What happens when we find it is anybody’s guess.”

“You must have an idea of what to do, right?” Ox said, glancing at the ocean then back to Morrison.

Morrison grinned, enjoying Ox’s nervousness. He walked towards the transom and sat beside Rainwater, and then with a sigh, pulled out his tobacco tin and started to hand roll a cigarette.

“Well that all depends. I have hunted pretty much every predator on the planet over the years, and one thing I have learned, is that you can never take them for granted. Man takes great pleasure in convincing himself it’s the superior species, but you can never discount nature. Any animal that feels threatened is apt to strike first and strike to kill.”

Rainwater couldn’t help but get drawn in, and ventured to ask a question himself.

“What’s the most dangerous thing you have ever hunted?”

Morrison didn’t answer at first. He simply finished rolling his cigarette, shoved it into his mouth, and lit it, inhaling deeply as Rainwater and Ox waited.

“There are a lot of dangerous things out there that’s for sure, without question, the most dangerous thing I ever hunted is man.”

Rainwater and Ox exchanged glances, and Morrison saw them and flashed a subtle smile.

“Relax, I’m no murderer. It was in Afghanistan. Hunted me some Taliban. Some of the boys liked to snipe em’ from a distance. I always liked to get in up close and personal. You better believe I was good at my job. A lot of the guys hated the heat, whereas, I couldn’t get enough of it, burning under the sun with the snakes, waiting to bag a terrorist or two.”

“How many did you…hunt?” Rainwater asked quietly, noting the definite shift in atmosphere.

“Who knows,” he shrugged as he worked his cigarette, squinting against the sun as he looked at Rainwater. “Twenty? Thirty? Forty? All I know is there were a lot. After a while, the numbers don’t really matter. You know what the best part was?”

He widened his grin to show his uneven teeth.

“Guess what my country gave me for my service? A medal? A commendation? No, they gave me a dishonourable discharge. Said I was too volatile to be kept in active service. Seems even in war, you aren’t allowed to kill too many of the enemy.”

Although Rainwater thought it was probably a good move from the army’s standpoint, he wasn’t about to say so. Instead, he pressed for more information.

“What happened then?”

“I threatened to appeal, and because the government were already taking a ton of flak for going to war in the first place, they paid me off and threw me into a shitty office job where they could keep an eye on me. Pushing a pen behind a desk was never for me though, even though some say I look the part. See, the thrill of the hunt never goes away. Some might say otherwise, but they’d be lying. It’s always there.” 

He inhaled again and blew smoke out of his nostrils.

“I tried to reason with them, told them I wanted to get back out to making a difference. Of course, they didn’t want any of that. They moved me around, put me into a few other roles they tried to make sound important, but they were really only wanting to keep me quiet and out of the way. By then, I’d had enough, so I told them I wanted out. I half expected them to try to bend over backwards to retain me, but the bastards seemed relieved and couldn’t wait to agree. Just like that, I was a free man in a world I had fought for, but didn’t understand or fit into.”

“What did you do next, man?” Ox asked quietly.

“As I said, the thrill of the hunt is a hard one to replace. Especially when you throw in rejection from the country you risked your life for. I started drinking. First out of boredom, then out of necessity to try to forget that my life had gone to hell. Pretty soon, it wasn’t enough, so I started with the drugs. Let me tell you, it didn’t take long to spiral out of control.  I got about as low as it’s possible to get, and although my body was screwed up and my brain was fried, no matter how much I drank, no matter how much coke I snorted, no matter how close to the edge I tried to exist…”

He shrugged and lowered his eyes as he exhaled deeply. “Well, it never got anywhere close to that high of hunting.”

Rainwater shifted uncomfortably as he looked at Morrison. He was still unable to get over the fact this man who looked more like some kind of well-spoken investment banker, was a seasoned hunter and war veteran. It was as if nothing but Morrison existed. Somehow, the rocking of the boat and the salty breath of the ocean had faded into the background. Both he and Ox were hooked on the slender hunters words.

“After that,” he continued, “after spending so long at the edge flirting with throwing yourself off, it doesn’t take long to realise it’s a game you are never gonna win. I saw a doctor, hoping to get some help getting off the crap I was pumping into my body. He told me I shouldn’t be alive, and the drink and drugs could finish me off if I didn’t stop straight away. Believe me, that’s the kind of thing that makes you sit up and take notice.”

“What did you do then?” Ox asked.

“I left the office and got wasted. I had this belief I was untouchable and those things the doctors said didn’t apply to me. It took something drastic to make me see that I wasn’t invincible.” He smiled and took another drag of his cigarette. “I had a stroke. Pretty bad one too. Lucky for me someone found me in time and dragged me to the hospital. I had pissed my pants and was so out of it that I didn’t know what had happened until a few days later. Doctors put me on an enforced rehab plan for both the drugs and alcohol addiction, and also to try to get my fucked up left side back to some kind of normality. It was hell, let me tell you, but I’m tougher than I look, and although I’m not completely recovered from the stroke, I’m clean as far as the other shit goes. Have been for a while now. With all that behind me, I needed a change of scenery, so I travelled, drifting from place to place. I hunted Bears in Oregon, Lions in Africa. Did whatever I could to try to get that natural buzz back.”

“Did you find it?” Rainwater said, finally starting to understand a little of what made Morrison tick.

“Find what?”

“That feeling. The thrill of the hunt.”

Morrison snorted a laugh and looked at Rainwater, shaking his head.

“Not yet. Not so far anyway. It’s like chasing shadows, but I’m trying. I suppose it’s just me replacing one addiction for another.  Mackay might have you think he found me, but believe me, if it wasn’t on this boat, you can bet your ass I would still be out here now, doing this exact same thing and hunting this creature. I’ll tell you this though, some of you might be in for a bit of a surprise.”

“What do you mean?” Rainwater asked.

“Oh, not you,” Morrison said with a thin smile. “I can see in your eyes you know what we’re dealing with. The rest of you…” He looked at Ox as his smile spread further across his face. “Well, some of you are in for a rude awakening.”

“Why?” Ox asked, unable to hide the panic in his voice.

“Because, even though I have hunted pretty much everything on this planet that could kill a man, this thing scares me. We’re in its domain now, its territory. You can all forget about being the superior species. Out here, we’re nothing. It’s us or it, life or death. There’s something poetic about that, don’t you agree?”

“You sound like you want this thing to kill us.” Ox said, glancing at Rainwater then turning his attention back to Morrison

“Not really,” he replied with the faintest ghost of a smile. “I’m showing this thing the proper respect, that’s all.”

“Well no offence, man,” Ox shot back, “but so far we found nuthin'.”

“We will, and soon.”

“What makes you so sure?” Rainwater said.

“Because I know it now. I know where to look. I know how to find it. You will all get to see her soon enough.”

Morrison stretched, looked at Rainwater and Ox in turn, and then flicked his cigarette butt over the side.

“Well, I suppose I better get back to work,”

he said, and then headed back inside.