Mega: A Deep Sea Thriller (Mega Series Book 1) Read online

  “From who?” Gunnar asked. “Because I’m having trouble figuring out who the bad guys are?”

  “I’m sorry, Gunnar, I’m not following you,” Mr. Ballantine said, “have I missed something?”

  “No, you don’t miss a thing,” Gunnar said as he stepped to a keyboard and started typing. A large vid screen came to life. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t either.”

  “That’s a lot of data on that screen,” Mr. Ballantine said, grabbing a stool and taking a seat, “I should get comfortable.”

  “Are you armed?” Gunnar asked.

  “Am I what?”

  “Armed,” Gunnar repeated. “With a pistol or any type of weapon you could use to kill me once I reveal what I’ve found.”

  Mr. Ballantine grimaced. “I’m really not liking where this conversation is going, Doctor Peterson. Please explain yourself immediately.”

  “I will,” Gunnar replied. He pulled a small pistol from his pocket and held it loosely at his side. “I just want to make sure I have your undivided attention.”

  “That, Doctor Peterson, you have,” Mr. Ballantine said, “completely undivided.”

  ***

  “Chopper incoming!” Popeye shouted. “But we ain’t got the helipad cleared!”

  Lake watched out the bridge windows as the company helicopter –a large, grey helo that was almost twice the size of the Wyrm- circled the Beowulf II. He tapped the com.

  “This is Chief Officer Martin Lake of the Beowulf II,” Lake announced over the com. “Can you put down on the carcass?”

  “Are you joking?” the helo pilot replied. “You want me to set down on that pile of guts? Please tell me you’re joking?”

  “The alternative is to circle for a couple hours while we clear the space,” Lake responded. “You have the fuel for that?”

  “Listen, Chief,” the pilot said, “I can set down on that thing, sure, but it won’t be pretty. You know what my bird is going to do to that? It’ll destroy it. And not in a good way.”

  “Is there a good way to destroy something?” Lake asked. “Just set down. We’ll deal with the mess as best we can.”

  “Okay, but I warned you,” the pilot said as the helo came in close.

  It hovered over the whale carcass for a minute then slowly landed. Even with the rotors still at full power, everyone on deck heard the crunching of bones and the loud pop as the spine of the whale split and the carcass burst open from the back.

  “Fuck me,” Popeye swore as he stood on the deck covered in rotten whale guts. The thing had exploded right at him and he didn’t have a chance even to duck. “This shit ain’t ever coming out. Gonna have to burn these damn clothes.”

  ***

  “Name,” a large, muscled brute asked, then slammed a fist into Shane’s gut before he could answer.

  His hands strung up over him, Shane hung from a large hook, his toes just able to touch the rusted floor of the dark, dank room he had been thrown into. His face was a patchwork of cuts and bruises which matched his torso as he hung there naked, shivering, and glared at the pirate before him that had been tasked with making his life hell.

  “I already told you,” Shane spat. “My name is Inigo Montoya. Prepare to die.”

  “That is a funny movie,” Daacad said as he came into the room, “Princess Bride, yes? Very funny movie.”

  Daacad motioned for the brute to move and the man did immediately. In his hand, Daacad held an ice pick. He twirled it around his fingers and Shane couldn’t help swallowing hard at what that implied.

  “Do you like watching movies?” Daacad asked Shane, the ice pick twirling and twirling.

  “Yeah,” Shane replied, “everyone likes watching movies. My favorite is La Femme Nikita. Ever see that one?”

  “No, I have not seen that one,” Daacad said, “please tell me about it.”

  “Uh, well, it’s about this street girl that gets a chance to become this bad ass assassin instead of being put to death for killing a cop,” Shane explained, his eyes watching as the ice pick twirled, twirled, twirled. “But, of course, shit gets fucked up and things don’t turn out how she wants. Especially when she falls in love with a normal guy that can’t know what she does.”

  “Shit gets fucked up?” Daacad laughed. “Americans and their vernacular. Shit gets fucked up. I like that. Very appropriate for your situation, yes? Your shit has gotten fucked up.”

  “I’d like to unfuck it,” Shane said. “How about you just let me go?”

  “No, I do not think so,” Daacad said. He motioned at the brute and the man brought over a metal folding chair. Daacad took a seat. “But I want to hear more about your favorite movie. Start from the beginning.”

  “Uh…you want me to tell you all of it?” Shane asked.

  “Yes,” Daacad replied, “and when you are, done I will ask you one question.”

  “And what is that question?” Shane asked.

  “No, no, no,” Daacad said, “as the internet likes to say that would be a spoiler. Tell me the story of La Femme Nikita. Then I will ask my question.”

  Shane took a deep breath, his eyes on the ice pick that never stopped twirling, twirling, twirling.

  ***

  “I matched the DNA profile of the whale with what was in the database I compiled of all known fossil samples found,” Gunnar said as he pointed at the video screen. “This carcass we found matched to 98%. Which is disappointing.”

  “You were hoping for 100%?” Mr. Ballantine asked, his eyes going from Gunnar’s face to the pistol the scientist held at his side. “Perfection is always the goal, right Doctor Peterson?”

  “Yet unobtainable,” Gunnar replied. “We are talking a million years of evolution here. The fact that there is a 98% match is remarkable. But, this means we may not have actually found Livyatan Melville, just its direct descendant.”

  “Congratulations,” Mr. Ballantine said, “Your discovery will be lauded in the marine biology field, if not the scientific community as a whole.”

  “I found a dead whale,” Gunnar said. “Well, we found a dead whale. Nothing to be lauded there. I may get credit for finding a new species, but not for finding an extinct species still alive.”

  “Yes, well, we can’t have everything,” Mr. Ballantine said. “Still quite an achievement.”

  “It is,” Gunnar said, “I will admit that. It will take months, maybe years to fully write this up and verify my findings. But I’m not going to have the time to do that, am I?”

  “You’re being very cryptic today, Gunnar,” Mr. Ballantine said, “and more than a little unstable. I’ve played your game and would really appreciate an explanation as to why you feel it necessary to keep me sitting here at gunpoint.”

  “I’m not pointing a gun at you,” Gunnar said. “Just keeping some insurance on hand.”

  “Insurance? Do I need to fetch Mr. Longbottom? He is the expert in that field,” Mr. Ballantine grinned. Gunnar didn’t. “Ah, not up for levity, I see. Well, I am your captive guest. Please continue. I want to hear why you won’t have time for your research.”

  “Because you’ll probably have me killed,” Gunnar said, “for what I found.”

  “Kill you over a whale?” Mr. Ballantine asked, obviously puzzled. “You have truly lost me, Gunnar.”

  “Not over the whale,” Gunnar said, “that was just to lure us out here. Give you a smoke screen for what you really wanted.”

  “And what do I really want?” Mr. Ballantine asked.

  “The shark,” Gunnar said as he closed one window on the screen and brought up another.

  “Yes, I have said I was after the shark,” Mr. Ballantine nodded. “I have made no secret of that.”

  “Yeah, but you weren’t exactly forthcoming about the true nature of the shark,” Gunnar said. “Your shark. The one you made.”

  Mr. Ballantine looked at the screen and then at Gunnar. And smiled. It was probably the most genuine smile he’d shown anyone since leaving Cape Town. It took Gunnar aback an
d he gripped the pistol tighter.

  “Oh, put that away, for Christ’s sake,” Mr. Ballantine laughed, “I’m not going to kill you. I’d rather hug you right now. You have exceeded my wildest dreams, Gunnar. At no point did I expect you to come to that conclusion so quickly.”

  “Expected me?” Gunnar said. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means you have passed your audition, Doctor Gunnar Peterson,” Mr. Ballantine said. He got up from the stool and held out his hand. “Welcome to the company.”

  ***

  “Then she opened the box and it was a gun with two extra magazines…or three magazines?” Shane said. “No, two, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t a celebration, was it?” Daacad said. “She was set up?”

  “Yeah, her handler set her up,” Shane continued. “Turns out, she was there for a job. She had to kill a guy sitting at the table close to them.”

  “That must have broken her heart,” Daacad said. “To be lured in and tricked like that. I would have shot the handler, if it was me. I don’t like to be played with.”

  “No, she went through with the job,” Shane said. “It was what she was trained to do.”

  The ice pick twirled, twirled, twirled.

  “And then what?” Daacad asked. “She got away?”

  “Sort of,” Shane responded.

  ***

  “I’ll need that shit cleared off this pad before I take off,” the helo pilot shouted as the rotors powered down and he opened the cockpit door. “Look at that crap! I have fucking bones jammed up around the skids.”

  “We aren’t doing anything until I get the okay from Gunnar,” Lake said as he stood by the helipad. “That’s his specimen. I’m already going to catch hell for letting you destroy it.”

  “I don’t care what hell you catch,” the pilot said. “Get someone to clear that crap off so I can pick up my passengers and leave this ship. Or I’ll start kicking some ass until it gets done.”

  Lake furrowed his brow. “Uh, kick some ass? You need to lighten up. Let me get Gunnar up here and we’ll go from there.”

  ***

  The pistol shook as Gunnar lifted it towards Mr. Ballantine. “Fucking explain what the fuck you’re talking about. Now.”

  “Now? Right now?” Mr. Ballantine smiled. “Not until you put the pistol down, Gunnar. You aren’t a killer. You aren’t going to shoot me. And after what I tell you, you won’t want to.”

  “Then tell me,” Gunnar said.

  “First, I want to know what you found,” Mr. Ballantine said, “to make sure I’m not mistaken in my praise for you.”

  Gunnar sighed and nodded back at the video screen. “At first, after running the DNA, I thought that my great find was the shark. Your shark. For all intents and purposes, it matches perfectly the DNA for C. Megalodon, the prehistoric monster shark. That’s what the database said. I tested it again and got the same result. Except for a strange anomaly that kept coming up.”

  “Which was?” Mr. Ballantine said.

  “Something in the sample kept crashing the sequencing process,” Gunnar said, “which is impressive considering the equipment this lab has. I’m able to do analysis in a twentieth the time it would normally take.”

  “A hundredth,” Mr. Ballantine corrected. “You just haven’t learned to use it all properly.”

  “A hundredth? Really?” Gunnar asked as he looked about the lab. Then he shook his head and focused back on Ballantine. “Whatever. I had to reboot the system over and over. Each time I’d reboot, I’d get more of the result until C. Megalodon was the answer the computer spit out.”

  “Incredible,” Mr. Ballantine said. “Couple that with your new species of whale and your legend is secured in the annals of scientific discovery.”

  “Yeah, except that the computer lied,” Gunnar said. “That isn’t C. Megalodon up on deck, that’s something different. Right?”

  “You tell me, Gunnar. Is it?” Mr. Ballantine asked.

  ***

  “I can’t feel my legs,” Jennings whispered. “They have gone completely fucking numb.”

  “You’d make a shitty SEAL,” Kinsey said. “SEALs have to hold a position for days sometimes without moving. You just think past the pain and discomfort.”

  “And I have to piss,” Jennings said, “bad.”

  “Then piss,” Kinsey responded, “and shut the fuck up about it. They’ll hear us.”

  “Don’t you have to piss?” Jennings asked.

  “No,” Kinsey said, “I already did.”

  “Oh,” Jennings said, “gross.”

  “Shut. Up,” Kinsey said.

  The sun had just crested the horizon and the lifeboat they were hidden in had started to warm up. The air under the canvass cover had become stifling. Kinsey wasn’t sure how long they would last under there once the sun was fully beating down on them.

  “We can’t stay here,” Kinsey said, “we’re going to cook.”

  “Maybe I’ll sweat out the piss,” Jennings said.

  “Dream big, stud,” Kinsey said. “Hold tight. I’m going to have a look.”

  Kinsey gently lifted the cover and had a peek at the ship. She waited for the movement to be detected, but no alarm went up. There was no one in her limited field of vision, so she carefully hooked a leg over the lifeboat’s side and stepped onto the ship’s deck. She crouched down as she got out and scanned her surroundings.

  No one was in sight.

  “Come on,” Kinsey said, “we’ll see if we can work our way below.”

  “And do what?” Jennings whispered as he followed Kinsey out of the lifeboat.

  “Sabotage the ship,” Kinsey said. “We’ll take it down from the inside.”

  “Works for me,” Jennings replied. “Show me the way.”

  “You’re the sailor,” Kinsey said. “After you.”

  “Great,” Jennings said. He studied the ship. “Okay, I know where the engine room is on this thing. I worked a ship like it when I was a kid.”

  “Maybe it’s the same ship,” Kinsey said, “we are dealing with pirates.”

  “Nope,” Jennings said, “that ship sank. It was an unlucky piece of shit. Fucking thing was cursed. The crew barely made it off.”

  “Let’s hope we have better luck,” Kinsey said as they cautiously moved across the deck towards a hatch that stood partially open.

  ***

  “Will someone tell me why Gunnar isn’t answering the com?” Lake asked. “Anyone?”

  “Lake, this is Thorne,” Thorne’s voice replied over the com, “how long have you been trying to reach him?”

  “For a few minutes,” Lake said. “We have a situation up top that he’ll want to know about.”

  “Ballantine was going to see him,” Thorne said. “They both should be in the lab. I’ll go see what I can find out.”

  “Thanks,” Lake said as he stood there and glared at the helo pilot.

  “Hey, Chief?” Popeye asked, pointing over the rail down at the water. “You see that?”

  “I’m standing over here, Popeye,” Lake said. “I can’t see anything except for the big cluster fuck in front of me.”

  “Right back atcha,” the pilot said.

  “Huh,” Popeye said, “never mind. Don’t see nothing no more.”

  ***

  “All data suggests that what we caught is C. Megalodon, a monster shark that was the apex predator of its time,” Gunnar said, “and that’s where the problem is. The DNA match is too perfect.”

  “That’s a problem?” Mr. Ballantine replied. “I guess my understanding of scientific findings isn’t the same as yours. Aren’t you trying for perfection?”

  “No,” Gunnar replied, “you see, the DNA matched one of the samples 100%. That was what kept gumming up the analysis. Or that’s what I thought. So I looked deeper. The DNA matches 100% because it was designed to. That shark up there isn’t a descendant of the Megalodon in the database sample, it’s a fucking clone of it.”
/>   “Clone? That’s just crazy talk, Doctor Peterson,” Mr. Ballantine smirked. “No one would believe that.”

  “Yeah, not even the computer,” Gunnar said, “but I found the genetic markers. I found the identical mutations that every single living thing on Earth has. No two creatures can be exactly alike, but this one is. How’d you do it?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Ballantine said.

  “Then how’d the company do it? I assume that’s who created the creature?” Gunnar asked.

  “Now that’s disappointing,” Mr. Ballantine said. “You were doing so well up until that point. The company doesn’t create anything. Except solutions to problems.”

  “So a client created the shark, is that it?”

  “That is it.”

  “And what? It got out of its tank?”

  “Oh, it didn’t get out,” Mr. Ballantine said. “It was never in a tank. That shark was born in the ocean. Or birthed is more like it. There would have to be conception actually to be born, am I right? I’m hazy on that science. Maybe you can tell me the difference.”

  “What? That can’t be right,” Gunnar said, “this shark is a clone. Unless you are saying a different shark was impregnated with this shark and that was the shark that got loose? Is that what you are telling me?”

  “I’m not telling you anything,” Mr. Ballantine said, “I’m listening to you discover. And it’s very entertaining.”

  “God dammit!” Gunnar yelled. “Cut the crap! Just give me a straight answer!”

  “To what?” Thorne asked from the hatch to the lab. His eyes instantly zeroed in on the pistol in Gunnar’s hand. “What the fuck is this, kid?”

  “Oh, nothing to worry about, Commander,” Mr. Ballantine said. “Doctor Peterson is a little jumpy because he has found out some very sensitive information. What he still doesn’t understand, is that I wanted him to find it out. If I had just told him, then the truth would have been buried under disbelief.”