Benedict

Western Pacific Ocean

13 degrees North Latitude

143 degrees East Longitude

Terry Taylor made her way toward the rear of the Sikorsky AS-61 helicopter to where her father, Masao Tanaka, was stretched out across two seats.

"Sip this, Dad."  Terry handed him the can of ginger ale as he sat up.  "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little.  I hate flying in these contraptions.  How long until we arrive at the Goliath? "

"The copilot says another fifteen minutes."

"I haven't been great company, have I?" Masao asked.

"It's okay.  You needed the rest, and I needed time to think."

"Don't be so hard on Jonas.  He's been through a lot."

"All of us have.  I think he's having a nervous breakdown."

"He needs your love and support."

"I do love him.  I'm just not sure how much more of this I can take.  I'm actually glad you invited me to come with you.  I think Jonas and I needed a break."

Masao shook his head sadly.  "By the way, Celeste will be on board the Goliath."

Terry groaned.  "So much for my R and R."

"You dislike the woman?"

"I can't stand her.  The way she struts around, flaunting her looks, you'd think a camera was on her twenty-four hours a day.  She treats her staff like shit, then she openly flirts with every man she meets."

"Including Jonas, I take it."

"Jonas more than anyone.  Why the hell did Benedict have to appoint that Russian concubine CEO of the Institute?"

Masao smiled.  "Benedict refers to her as his protégée."

"I don’t know what she is, but I can't stand her, or that peroxide hairdo of hers."

"It would be best for all concerned if you made an effort to get along."

"It's degrading—"

"Try.  For me."

"Fine.  I'll try."  She gazed out the windows at the glasslike surface of the Pacific.  "You know, I'm actually looking forward to meeting Benedict.  What's he like?"

"Benedict?  A brilliant man.  European-bred.  A man of great wealth and power who is quite skilled in the art of manipulation.  He is fluent in a dozen languages, though he prefers to impress with quotes in Latin and French.  I find him to be a bit eccentric, with a prodigious fondness for haring himself speak.  Some might even say he's mad.  We must be tactful, Terry, very diplomatic.  We cannot afford to set him off any more than we can ignore the requests of the Japanese."

"How do you think he'll react when you tell him JAMSTEC is threatening to cancel our contract unless we investigate the Proteus 's accident?"

"That depends on us.  Outcome is often determined by the manner in which something is presented."

The helicopter banked sharply.  Terry glanced out her window as an enormous gray warship appeared beneath them.

The Goliath was a decommissioned Kirov-class Soviet missile cruiser donated by the Russian government to Geo-Tech Industries as part of a twenty-year contract to develop and supply alternative-energy resources.  The ship was aptly named:  at 813 feet long, with a ninety-one-foot beam, it was the largest research vessel in the world.

Fitted with a hybrid power plant, the Goliath combined nuclear and steam to drive its two sets of turbines and twin propellers.  Battle armor removed, the vessel was capable of maintaining cruising speeds of thirty-three knots.  More importantly, the Goliath had the size and power necessary to transport and deploy Geo-Tech's enormous deep-sea laboratory, the Benthos.

The Sikorsky bounced twice before settling down on the helicopter pad located at the stern.  Terry followed her father and the copilot out of the chopper to where a stunning woman in her late twenties was waiting impatiently for them.  Deeply tanned, she was dressed in a white skintight bodysuit that revealed an athletic build.  Long platinum-blond hair blew wildly in the wind, revealing her high Slavic cheekbones.

"You're late," Celeste said to the copilot, shouting to be heard over the wind.

"We ran into some weather—"

"Save the bullshit.  You were late getting out of Guam.  Take their belongings to our guest quarters and get down to the galley.  You have thirty minutes to eat before heading back out."

"Tonight?"

Celeste turned her back on the man to face Masao.

"Dobryi dyen, Mr. Tanaka, we weren't expecting you.  Where's Jonas Taylor?"

"He sent his better half instead," Terry said, climbing out of the chopper.

Celeste's eyes flashed anger.  "Benedict insisted on Jonas.  This is not good."

"The Megalodon's been attacking the gate again," Masao said.  "Jonas felt he needed to remain at the Institute.  He asked us to deliver a proposal he'd like you to read."

"Very well.  Benedict is waiting to meet with us in his stateroom."

Without waiting for a reply, Celeste started walking across the open deck of the stern, heading for a steel-gray superstructure of multiple decks and towers bristling with sensors.

Masao eyed two barren platforms located on either side of the deck.  "Celeste, could you tell me what these structures are?"

Without turning, she said, "At one time they were used to support the ships' two one-hundred-millimeter dual-purpose guns.  The Russians removed all the weapon systems, but when this ship was armed she was a mean bitch."

Just like you, thought Terry.

Celeste led them up a short flight of stairs onto a second deck and into the ship.  They followed a steel corridor to a spiral stairwell and ascended two more levels, stopping at C deck.

"From here on out, most of what you see has been gutted and redone," Celeste said.

Unlike the watertight corridors they had just come from, C deck had been refashioned into a wide paneled hallway, its floors a deep-blue all-weather carpet.  The interior resembled an office building more than a research vessel.  Celeste walked to the end of the hall.  She knocked, then opened a set of cherry wood doors, beckoning them inside.

Benedict Singer had his back to them, the crown of his cleanly shaven head just visible above a brown suede chair.  Terry and Masao sat down on a matching couch along one wall, listening as the billionaire CEO of Geo-Tech Industries completed a business call in Russian.

Benedict hung up, then stood to greet his guests.

"Ah, Lord Tanaka, Ogenki desu ka? "

Masao smiled.  "Well, and you?"

"Alive, which always beats the alternative.  But where is Professor Taylor?"  For the briefest second, rage passed across Benedict's face.

"Unable to attend, but he sends his deepest apologies.  This is my daughter—"

"The beautiful Terry Taylor.  Bonjour, madame, how wonderful to finally meet you," Benedict said, recovering quickly.  He took her hand, kissing it as he bowed.  "Benedict Singer, at your service."  He flashed a yellowed smile.  His grayish-white goatee, the only hair on his head, flickered upward at the corners.

Terry stared into unearthly emerald eyes that seemed to lock onto hers, refusing to let go.

"You're wondering about the unusual color of my eyes.  The result of an industrial accident suffered some years ago.  The contact lenses are permanent, tinting what had once been blue irises.  I find I like the emerald color, unfortunately, as you can see, the accident also permanently singed away my eyelashes and brows."

He turned to Masao.  "Dinner is in an hour, but I thought we'd speak first.  Celeste, have you offered our guests a drink?  Some red wine, perhaps?  Chateau Neuf du Pape 1936."

"Nothing for me," Masao said.

"The wine sounds good." Terry watched Celeste glide over to the bar, annoyed as she casually strutted her perfect physique.

"So, my friend, let's talk.  As you can imagine, all of us are still in  shock over the tragedy that befell the Proteus.  We lost four  good friends and valued personnel.  One was our project manager.  He'll be sorely missed."

"Have you any idea how it happened?" Masao asked.

"The last word we received was the pilot reporting a hull breach.  Celeste believes the accident was more likely the result of pilot error than a malfunction."

"The man lost his nerve," Celeste said, obviously disgusted.  "He probably panicked down there and collided with a black smoker."

Benedict shook his head.  "De mortuis nil nisi bonum, my dear.  Of the dead, say nothing but good."

"Then I'll say nothing.  The loss of the Proteus more than doubles the timetable of this entire project."

"Unfortunately, Celeste is correct.  Without the Proteus, the Prometheus and Epimetheus will have to complete their own geological survey of the seafloor before the UNIS seismic detectors can be deployed within the Trench.  I had wanted to speak directly to your son-in-law regarding his experiences, anticipating that his insight could save us some time.  I do hope your friends at the Japan Marine Science and Technology Center will be understanding regarding our delay."

Masao cleared his throat.  "I'm certain they will, once they receive a full report regarding the incident."

Terry saw Celeste's blue eyes flash venom.  "GTI filed a report two days after the accident occurred," Celeste said.  "What more do they want from us?"

Masao held up his hand.  "Please do not shoot the messenger.  This is a sensitive issue that involves all of us. As you know, this area of the Mariana Trench is part of an exclusive economic zone, bringing it under American jurisdiction.  It is only because of our ongoing contract with JAMSTEC that the Tanaka Institute has been permitted to reenter the Trench."

Benedict stood.  "Have you traveled across the Pacific to insult me, Masao?  My organization invests more than a billion dollars to create the Benthos and its fleet of submersibles so that mankind may finally access the last unexplored frontier on this planet, and JAMSTEC demands I pay homage to them?  Perhaps we should simply tear up our joint-venture agreement.  GTI will use the Benthos to explore other deep-sea trenches while the Japanese wait for another earthquake to strike without warning."

Masao broke eye contact.  "That is not our desire, or our intention, Benedict-san.  The Japanese are very appreciative of your generosity and ingenuity in being able to access the Mariana Trench.  They need our UNIS systems to be deployed but only desire a more thorough report on our part regarding the incident.  The last thing any of us wants is to insult you or your great company.  However, if you do not wish to comply with JAMSTEC's request, then I must regrettably relay your response back to the Japanese, who most certainly will terminate our agreement."

Benedict made his way to the bar and poured himself another glass of wine.  "Exactly what is JAMSTEC asking for?"

"Examination of the wreckage—"

"There's little wreckage to see," Celeste said.  "The sub imploded.  The currents have scattered the debris."

She's lying, Terry thought.  Slow-moving currents wouldn't carry hunks of titanium anywhere.

"Then they'll wish to examine all documents recorded by the Benthos and the Goliath, including sonar grams recorded by your towed array," Masao said.

Benedict glanced at Celeste, who shrugged.  "Nivazhna—it doesn't matter."

"Very well, Masao.  Give us a day or two to pull together Goliath 's records.  But we can't get down to the Benthos until the Prometheus and Epimetheus arrive."

"When will that be?" Terry asked.

"Not until the end of the week," Benedict said.  "Of course, you're both welcome to say for as long as you'd like."

"Very kind of you," Masao said.

"Now that that's out of the way, let's talk about Angel.  From what my protégée tells me, the shows continue to sell out as our monster continues to grow."

"She's an amazing creature."

"Your son-in-law seems to think she's too dangerous, even in the lagoon," Celeste said, holding up Jonas's proposal.  "He's asking GTI to front another three million dollars to reinforce the gateway."

"Jonas can be a bit paranoid," Terry said.  "He's been through a lot."

"Hope everything's okay at home."  Celeste flashed a smile.

"Couldn't be better."  Terry didn't miss a beat.  "Thanks for asking."

Benedict laughed.  "Ah . . . Amor vincit omnia, eh, Masao?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You really must brush up on your Latin, my friend," he said, pouring himself another drink.  "Love conquers all things."