Bait

 

Gulf of Alaska

 

It was dawn by the time Mac's helicopter touched down on the deck of the William Beebe.  Harry Moon greeted them, escorting them to the control room.

Jonas saw Dr. Maren and Captain Morgan leaning over a chart of the Gulf of Alaska.  Celeste was on the other side of the room, arguing with someone on the ship-to-shore.

"You guys look like hell," said the captain.

"Been there," Mac muttered.

Celeste slammed down the receiver.  "Goddamn it.  The Canadian authorities are holding us responsible for the deaths of the female kayaker and the kid who fell off the ferry."

"We are responsible," Jonas said.

"That's horseshit," Celeste said.

"If a lion escapes from a zoo and kills someone, the zoo's responsible," Mac said.

Celeste rolled her eyes.  "Well, thank you so very much for enlightening me.  You'll be happy to know that the Canadian Coast Guard has now decided to handle the situation themselves.  They've dispatched a cutter and two helicopters to locate the shark and kill it."

Maren scoffed.  "Fuck the Canadians.  By nightfall the female will have moved into Alaskan waters and out of their jurisdiction."

"Why are we changing course?" Jonas asked.

Maren pointed to the map.  "From Vancouver Island there are two distinct routes migrating whales take to the Bering Sea.  We now know the Megalodon is following the main route, along the Canadian and Alaskan coastlines.  I expect the shark to continue heading west until she reaches the Aleutian Islands, at which time she should follow the whale pods north, right into the Bering Sea.  The William Beebe is now following an alternate route, a shortcut used primarily by gray whales.  Our new heading is much quicker, cutting across the Gulf of Alaska, placing us ahead of the shark.  This will allow us to cut her off here—at Cape Chiniak, Kodiak Island.

Jonas studied the map.  "And once we get ahead of her, how do you plan to locate her, let alone draw her close enough to the ship to hit her with your harpoon."

"Change of plans," Celeste said.  "We're going to drug the monster by using bait."

"What kind of bait?"

"Sea lions," Maren said, "the creature's favorite delicacy.  When we get to Kodiak Island, three freshly killed sea lion bulls will be loaded on board.  I'm going to surgically implant large dosages of anesthetic into each carcass.  We'll hook the bait, attach it to the winch by steel cable, then drag it along the surface until the Megalodon takes it.  Within five minutes of consuming the drugs, the shark will be out cold."

Captain Morgan studied the map.  "When do you estimate the monster will reach Cape Chiniak?"

"If she continues her present speed, maybe three to four days."

"Then I suggest we go on shifts," Harry said.

Maren nodded in agreement.  "I'll put together a schedule."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Valley Memorial Hospital

Monterey, California

 

When Sadia Kleffner entered her employer's private room, she was surprised to see him sitting up in bed, a nurse tending to him.

"Masao, how do you feel?"

"Sadia, thank God.  Kindly inform this nurse that I must leave here immediately."

"Just sit back and relax, Mr. Tanaka.  You're not going anywhere until the doctor says."

"But I feel better—"

"I'm sure your doctor will be glad to hear that.  Now lie back down before I tie you to the bed."

Masao glared at the nurse, then lay back, giving in to the larger woman.

Sadia sat down on the edge of the bed.  "They finished replacing the lagoon doors yesterday.  King Kong himself couldn't get through these."

Masao watched the nurse leave.  "What is it, Sadia?  I know when you're hiding something."

Sadia broke eye contact.  "There's been another death.  A young boy."

Masao shut his eyes, feeling the strain on his chest.

"The media's on the warpath.  Things are getting nasty."

"Have you heard from my daughter?"

"I finally got through to the Goliath.  They claim Terry decided to remain on board the Benthos for another week."

"What?  She's still in the Trench?"

Sadia could see the older man's hands trembling.  "Masao, they assured me everything is fine."

"No, something is wrong.  I can feel it.  Where is Jonas?"

"Heading into the Gulf of Alaska.  They're attempting to intercept the creature at Kodiak Island.  Oh, and we delivered the AG-Two as per Celeste's orders."

"The AG-Two?"  Masao opened his eyes.  "Why the abyssal sub?"

"I don't know.  Celeste specifically requested the AG-Two."

Masao shook his head.  "Sadia, listen to me carefully.  I want you to contact Commander James Adams at the Navy base in Guam.  Tell him I wish to meet him immediately.  Make arrangements for me to fly out as soon as possible."

"But the doctor hasn't discharged you yet."

Masao sat up, removing an IV tube from his arm.  "I'm discharging myself."

"Masao—"

"Sadia, my children's lives are at stake.  Now hand me my clothes before nurse Ratched returns."

 

Cape Chiniak

Southwest Coat of Kodiak Island

 

Celeste stood by the starboard rail, watching as the last of the three sea lion carcasses was lifted from the hull of the fishing boat and onto the deck of the William Beebe, then packed in ice.

Maren joined her, handing her a telegram.  "This message just came from the Goliath."

Celeste opened it.  "It's from Benedict."

"What's it say?"

"Age quod agis—to the business at hand."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means he's losing patience with me."

"Don't worry," Maren said, slipping his arm around her waist.  "We'll capture the Megalodon very—"

Celeste pushed his arm away.  "I told you, not in public."

"Why not?  Are you afraid Taylor might see you?  Don't deny it, Celeste, I see the way you look at him."

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Michael.  As Benedict says, tend to the business at hand."  She checked her watch.  "What time am I scheduled on lookout?"

"I gave you the noon till six shift.  Harry will relieve you until midnight.  Then Taylor and Mackreides take over from twelve to six a.m..  It worked out nicely.  You and I will be able to see each other late at night without Taylor knowing."

"Idiot."  Celeste's eyes blazed in anger.  "I'll determine if and when we'll be together, not your hormones.  I specifically instructed you to put Jonas and me together."

Maren cowered back.  "I know, but Taylor insisted he and Mackreides take the midnight shift.  What was I supposed to do?"

Celeste watched the fishing boat move away from the William Beebe.  "The two of them are up to something.  Where's Jonas now?"

"Last time I saw him, he was with Mackreides in the chopper."

"Find him.  Tell him that I'm very upset, that I'm worried about the Benthos.  Tell him I need to speak with him in my cabin right away."

"What about us?  What about tonight?"

"Business before pleasure.  Now do as I say."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Maren peered into the cockpit.  Finding it empty, he walked around to the helicopter's cargo-bay door and slid it open.

Empty.

As he was about to secure the door, Maren noticed the butt of what appeared to be a large rifle lying beneath a blanket.  He climbed inside, then pulled back the blanket, exposing the rest of the rifle.

"Son of a bitch . . ."

Making sure no one was watching, he slipped in the back of the chopper and went to work."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

"You're insane," Mac said, closing the cabin door behind him.

"It's risky, but it'll work," Jonas said.  "It's the only way I know I'll have a clear shot at the Megalodon."

"Exactly how close are you planning to be?"

"Fifty, sixty yards."

"And what's to prevent the creature from attacking you?"

"The shark won't even know I'm in the Zodiac.  Instead of using the raft's engine, I'm going to allow the William Beebe to tow me, just ahead of the bait."

"You are insane.  Look, at least let me go with you."

"You can't.  I need you watching the sea from above.  The transmitter will tell me when she's in the area but you'll be able to spot her before I do."

"I still think this plan of yours is too risky."

"Maybe, but this madness has to stop.  Tonight I end this, one way or the other."

They were interrupted by a knock.  Mac opened the door.

Celeste stood in the corridor, her makeup streaked with tears.  "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt—"

"Celeste, what's wrong?" Jonas asked.

"When you have a chance, I need to talk to you."

"I'm just leaving," Mac said, rolling his eyes.

Celeste stood by the porthole, her eyes glistening with tears.  "Jonas, I don't know where our friendship is going, but I need your support.  I need you to trust me."

"What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking about the nightmares you've been having.  Maybe we shouldn't ignore them.  I know this sounds crazy, but for my own peace of mind, I need to warn Benedict about the Devil's Purgatory."

Jonas shook his head.  "All of a sudden you believe in my dreams?  I thought you said it's just my guilt—"

"Terry's still aboard the Benthos."

"What?"  Jonas grabbed her arm.  "Why didn't you tell me that before?  Why the hell is she still in the Trench?"

"According to Benedict, Terry absolutely refuses to leave until the last UNIS is deployed."

Jonas felt weak.  He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples.  "I want to speak with her."

"You can't.  Only the Goliath can communicate directly with the Benthos.  She sat down next to him, massaging his neck.  "Jonas, give me the coordinates of the Devil's Purgatory.  Let me warn them."

Jonas was silent.

"You still don't trust me, do you?"

"It's not a question of trust."

"Then your word to the Navy is worth more than Terry's life, is that it?"

"Now you're worried about Terry?"

"I'm worried about Benedict and the crew of the Benthos, the only family I have.  Do I have to remind you that these people are seven miles beneath the ocean, that the slightest breach in their hull would—"

"Celeste, stop.  I'm the last person who needs to be lectured about the Mariana Trench.  Look, I need to think—let me think about this, okay?"

Celeste turned away in frustration.  "Fine.  Sit here and do nothing.  But if something happens to those people, I'll never forgive you."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Surrounded by impenetrable darkness, Jonas lost all sense of direction.  Pressing his face against the cold LEXAN glass, he stared into oblivion, waiting for the Angel of Death to appear.

A faint glow circled in the distance.  Jonas couldn't tell if it was below or above him, only that he was moving toward it.  The light grew larger, the shape taking form.  Jonas began trembling, a know of fear tightening in his stomach.

The being seemed to sense his presence.  It broke from its circling pattern, the triangular head moving silently toward him, its ghostly, luminescent skin frightening against the pitch blackness of the abyss.

Jonas fought to draw a breath.  Terrified, yet unable to turn away, he watched his tormentor open its grotesque jaws, exposing the cathedrallike gullet.

An object appeared from within the beast's mouth.  In surreal motion it was expelled from the jaws, rising toward him.

An escape pod?

The clear coffinlike tube stopped several feet below him.  Jonas could see the silhouette of a figure within.  A man, totally naked, his face hidden in shadow.

The glow from the beast diminished, allowing the features of the face to come into view.  Jonas screamed, staring at the lifeless figure—of himself.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Jonas lifted his head from the suffocating pillow and shut off the alarm clock.  He rolled onto his back, the vision of his own lifeless body lying in the escape pod refused to go away.  Still trembling, he sat up, his skin drenched with sweat.

He looked at the clock:  11:35 p.m..  Still feeling claustrophobic, he limped to the porthole, pulled back the drape, and opened the window.  A blast of Arctic air filled the cabin.  Jonas felt a light drizzle.  Sealing the porthole, he began pulling on his wet suit.

He knew he was in for a bad night.

The rain was coming down harder by the time he walked out on deck.  He adjusted the hood of his parka, then crossed the slick aft deck.

Mac was speaking with Harry Moon by the big winch.  Harry nodded to him.  "Miserable enough night, huh?"

"I hope it doesn't get any worse," Jonas said.

Harry looked up.  "This rain should ease by two or three.  Not much to do, really.  Just watch the line and try to stay awake.  If that monster of yours decides to take a bite, you'll know it.  Just give her as much line as she wants and pray those drugs take effect."

"I know the drill," Jonas said.

"Then I'll say good night.  Celeste is set to relieve you at six."

Jonas waited until Harry had disappeared inside.  Then he reversed the winch and reeled in the bait, while Mac headed for the chopper to retrieve their equipment.

Jonas watched as six hundred thirty pounds of dripping sea lion carcass was dragged up from the sea.  He stopped the winch, then grabbed the two-inch-thick steel line and swung the waterlogged bait over the transom, releasing enough cable to allow the load to flop onto the deck.

The steel cable ran through the sea lion's mouth to a three-foot hook piercing the lining of the stomach.  A porous ten-gallon elixir of drugs had been surgically placed within the animal's digestive tract.  And additional dozen pouches containing more anesthetics had been hastily sewn along the blubbery hide.

Maren's taking no chances.

Mac returned with the grenade rifle.  Jonas unlocked the storage compartment, removing a small suitcase from the crate.  Opening the case, he extracted a powerful wireless underwater speaker.  Mac stretched the sea lion's mouth wide, allowing Jonas to shove the instrument into the animal's esophagus.

"Let's test it."  Jonas reached into the suitcase to power up the sound system.  A deep baritone thrumming rose from the carcass.  Jonas turned up the volume, the voodoolike acoustics causing the lifeless mound of blubber to gyrate across the slick deck.

"Damn thing's dancing," Mac said.  "How far away will your shark be able to hear this racket?"

"Sound travels much farther underwater.  There's no telling how acute the Megalodon's senses are, but I'd guess she'll be able to detect these vibrations quite a distance away."  Jonas wiped the rain from his face.  "Help me get this bait back into the water."

He restarted the winch.  The carcass rose off the deck.  Mac pushed it out over the side as Jonas released three hundred feet of cable.  The sea lion disappeared into the night, its pounding reverberations echoing in the dark.

"My turn," Jonas said.

"Jonas—"

"Mac, don't, we've already been through this.  Just help me with the Zodiac."

Extending out along either side of the ship's middeck were small winches designed to launch the motorized rubber rafts known as Zodiacs.  Jonas climbed aboard one, attaching a long coil of nylon rope to the bow of the craft.

"There's two hundred feet of rope here," Jonas said.  "Allowing for the ship's draft, that should place me a hundred and fifty feet in front of the bait."

Mac shook his head, handing him the grenade rifle.  "That translates into two Megalodon body lengths, not much room if you ask me.  It'd be safer if I piloted the Zodiac."

"I told you, towing's better.  The sound of the Zodiac's engine would attract Angel."

Mac passed him the walkie-talkie.  "I'll keep the chopper at one hundred feet, but I'm also going to trail the rescue harness, just in case you need to get off this raft in a hurry."

Jonas forced a smile., then removed a remote headset from the case.  He placed it over his ears, pausing to listen.

"Anything?"

"No, she's not in range yet.  You realize this could be a long night."

"Just don't fall asleep in the boat, Ahab."  Mac released the catch on the A-frame's pulley, allowing the Zodiac to drop straight down to the sea.

Jonas reached up and released the boat from its harness.  Taken by the William Beebe 's wake, the raft drifted quickly behind the research vessel, which was moving southwest at just under three knots.

Using the length of rope, Mac guided the Zodiac behind the stern.  He secured the end to the iron guardrail, allowing the raft to be towed halfway between the William Beebe and the trailing bait.

Jonas situated himself within the rubber raft, which glided silently along the surface of the dark Alaskan waters with barely a ripple.  A cold rain continued to fall from the overcast sky, the northern air sending shivers down his spine.  Sitting low in the boat, he propped a life preserver against the bow and leaned back, facing the engine.

The length of steel cable running from the William Beebe to the bait hovered two feet over his left shoulder, disappearing 158 feet behind the raft into the gray-black mist-covered sea.  As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, Jonas was able to trace the line of cable to a small patch of froth, created by the sea lion carcass moving through the surface waters.  He heard and felt the deep thrum produced by the underwater speaker, pulsating beneath the waves like a heartbeat.

Jonas aimed the rifle, focusing the gun sight on the froth of water.

"Dinner's ready, Angel," he whispered, "come and get it."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Twenty-two miles to the northeast of Cape Chiniak, the 382-foot ferry M/V Kennicott continued its journey south along the Alaskan Marine Highway.  Unbeknownst to the ship's eight hundred passengers and crew, an ivory glow now shadowed the vessel as it made its way to Kodiak Island.

Entering the Gulf of Alaska, the Megalodon had instinctively increased its speed, a primordial response to the colder ocean temperatures.  Evolutionary adaptations that had allowed the giant species to stave off extinction up until the last Ice Age now served to protect the supreme hunter in response to the cold.  Chemical secretions within the creature's nervous and circulatory systems boosted the shark's capacity to contract its muscles.  These swifter, more powerful muscular contractions generated additional heat energy, which raised the Megalodon's blood temperature six to eight degrees.  Enlarged pericardial arteries circulated this increased body heat to the internal organs, while the predator's sheer mass helped insulate its core temperature from its colder environment.

Gliding just above the thermocline, Angel continued crisscrossing the Kennicott 's wake, searching for food.  Although the female's rise in visceral temperature had increased her digestive process, the progression of her estrus cycle, combined with the shark's decreased metabolic rate due to the cold, had left her feeling sluggish.  It had been three days since the creature had last fed, and in her weakened state she could not risk attacking a large pod of whales.

As Angel continued her westerly trek behind the ferry, pressure-wave detectors began sensing familiar vibrations.  Aroused, she began beating her caudal fin faster, struggling at first to accelerate her incredible mass.  After several dozen powerful thrusts, she managed to increase her forward momentum, reaching a cruising speed her torpedo-shaped body could maintain with little effort.  Gliding beneath the ferry, the Megalodon raced ahead, following an acoustical beacon her instincts told her would lead to food.

 

2:56 a.m.

 

"Jonas, you still alive?"

Jonas looked up.  Though he could hear the rotors beating, the chopper was invisible in the dark cloudy sky.  He reached a numb hand for the walkie-talkie, pressing it to his face.

"I'm still here.  How you doing up there?"

"Wind's picking up a bit.  As long as there's no lightning, I'm fine.  What about you?  You must be a popsicle by now."

"The wet suit's keeping me warm, but the seas are getting rough."

"Listen, pal, how 'bout we reel you in and call it a night before you catch pneumonia."

"No," Jonas shouted.  "No more nightmares, no more people dying.  I told you, I'm ending this tonight, once and for all."

"And what if your monster doesn't show, Ahab?"

"She'll show.  Out."  Jonas shoved the walkie-talkie into his jacket pocket.

Two-to-three-foot waves now rolled the raft from side to side.  The increased wind drove the rain harder against his face.

Maybe she won't show . . .

Jonas stared into the pitch, the choppy sea appearing lead-gray against the black sky.  For at least the hundredth time he replayed the nightmare in his mind's eye, seeing himself dead in the escape pod.

More images flowed into his mind and he became consumed in a waking dream.  He saw himself standing in the rain as the coffins of the two Navy men he had killed eleven years ago were lowered into the ground.  He saw himself on board the Magnate, staring into the demon's mouth, powerless as he watched his ex-wife Maggie being dragged beneath the waves.  He saw himself in a courtroom, lawyers accusing him of reckless endangerment as throngs of onlookers chanted, "murderer, murderer."  And then Terry, teary-eyed, lying in a hospital bed, grieving the loss of their stillborn child.

Terry looked up at him, her intense Asian eyes staring through him with the same mixture of sadness and hatred he'd seen in the grieving spouses and parents, the siblings and children.

Jonas opened his eyes, panting hard to catch his breath.

The rain had subsided.

Jonas sat up, kneeling on one of the seats.  Unzipping his wet suit, he urinated over the side.

"Okay, Angel, here I am," he whispered.  "Come and get me."

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Celeste thrust up and down faster, grinding her pelvic bone into his as she rode Maren harder.  She heard him moan, then felt him give out before she could please herself.

"That's it?" she said disappointed.

"Are you kidding?" he whispered, smiling.  "That was incredible."

She climbed off him.  "Glad one of us enjoyed it."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm taking a shower."

He admired her figure as she walked to the bathroom.  "Can I join you?"

She turned to face him.  "Michael, no offense, but I don't think you're up to it.  Now go back to your cabin.  I need my sleep."

Maren climbed out of the bed, slipped on his clothes, and left.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Beep.

The noise startled Jonas awake.  He adjusted the headset and held his breath.

Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

Grabbing the grenade rifle in one hand, he reached for the walkie-talkie with the other.  "Mac, I just got a signal!"

Mac searched the black expanse of ocean.  "I can't see her glow yet.  Listen, try to stay calm, don't give your position away."

"I'm fine," Jonas said, nearly hyperventilating as he scanned the sea.

The beeps grew louder.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Angel snorted the sea, her directional nostrils homing in on the microscopic particles of urine.  Rising to forty feet, she circled her prey from below, choosing to remain at a safe distance while her senses surveyed the environment.

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

"There she is," Mac shouted.  "She's circling just below the surface, sixty feet off your starboard side.  Hold on, Jonas, she's passing beneath you—now!"

Jonas held on, feeling an immense tug from below as the creature's moving girth momentarily drew the raft sideways.  Leaning overboard, Jonas saw the swish of a luminescent tail fin as the beast circled away to his right.

"Jonas, you there?"

"Shhh."  Jonas turned the volume down.  "Where is she?"

"She disappeared below."

Jonas felt his heart pounding, the pulse in his neck throbbing.  He gripped the grenade rifle tighter.

"Jonas, she's surfacing behind the bait—"

Jonas pressed his eye tighter against the rifle's scope.

"Thar she blows!" Mac yelled.

The Megalodon's snout rose out of the water behind the sea lion, its jaws biting down on the lifeless tail, severing it from the upper torso.

Targeting the immense head, Jonas held his breath—and fired.

Click.

His heart skipped a beat.  He reaimed and squeezed the trigger again.

Click.  Click—click.

"Son of a bitch, the gun's not firing!"

And then Jonas's heart leaped into his throat as the Zodiac suddenly stopped dead in the water.  The sea lion carcass, still being towed by the William Beebe 's stern, spotting a solitary figure disappearing inside.

"Your ropes been cut.  Hang on, Jonas, I'm coming—"  Mac dropped the airship straight down on he approaching sea lion carcass and his drifting Zodiac.

Angel's jaws opened—

Jump!

Jonas leaped from the Zodiac and grabbed the steel cable with both hands.  The sea lion carcass struck the drifting Zodiac, tossing it upside down.

Sensing movement, the Megalodon instinctively bit the raft, bursting it in its mouth.

Jonas held on to the cable like a fallen water-skier refusing to let go.  His lower torso bounded painfully against the frigid surface, the slick line cutting and sliding through his butchered hands.  With a thud that took his breath away, the remains of the sea lion rammed into him from behind, sending spasms of pain through his injured leg.

Jonas slipped beneath the half-eaten carcass, wrapping his legs around the bouncing bait as his back slapped painfully against the surf.  Blinded by the darkness and freezing water, no longer able to feel his exposed hands, he felt his blood turn to lead while his skin seemed to sizzle beneath the wet suit.

Way to go, asshole.  You've killed yourself!

The Megalodon shook the remains of the Zodiac from her jaws and raced after her fleeing prey.

Mac's helicopter soared along the whitecaps, beads of cold sweat streaming into the pilot's eyes as he desperately attempted to line up the dangling harness with the moving bait.   Realizing the task was impossible, he grabbed the radio, shouting at the William Beebe to respond.

Wedging the sea lion's head between his knees, Jonas gained enough leverage to push his right foot into the shredded remains of the upper torso.  The canister of drugs had fallen into the sea, but he could feel the three-foot hook with his instep.  Standing on the steel curvature, he raised his head above the dark waves and gasped for air, his muscles shaking uncontrollably.

To his horror, he saw the luminescent snout rise up behind him.  Jaws and upper gums extended outward, reaching for him.

The thought occurred to let go.  Instead, he torqued his body sideways, swinging the shredded carcass away from the lunging mouth.  Chomping down on empty sea, the predator rose again, this time hyperextending its open jaws to engulf the sea lion and Jonas in one humongous bite.

Jonas shut his eyes.  His nightmares had been wrong.  He would not die with his wife in the Trench, but here, now, alone, on the open sea.

A thunderous roar overhead—the tip of the helicopter's landing gear clipped the towering dorsal fin.  The collision cut a deep gash along one side of the fin, sending the chopper spinning wildly out of control.

The predator submerged.

Mac fought the joystick, unable to control his yaw.  The landing gear struck the sea, then bounced upward before its rotor could hit water.  Struggling to regain altitude, realizing he was seconds away from stalling, Mac managed to pull the chopper up and over the William Beebe 's stern, crash-landing the heaving bucket of bolts against the lower deck.

Jonas held on and waited to be eaten.  I'm sorry, Terry, I was so stupid . . .

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

Mac dragged himself from the cockpit and ran to the winch where Harry and Maren were waiting.

"Mackreides, what the hell are—"

Mac shoved Maren aside and reversed the winch.

"Are you crazy—"

"Get the fuck out of my way—Jonas is out there!"

 

*        *        *        *        *

 

The Megalodon was moving in three hundred feet of water, swimming directly below her prey.  Instincts told her the sea lion was either wounded or dead, but it had struck back, forcing the hunter to reevaluate.  Hungry, the female rose again, homing in on the thrashing movements of her prey.  This time, instead of going for the kill, the predator would bite and release, then circle back and wait for her quarry to die.

In his delirium Jonas imagined himself being drawn upward and out of the sea.  Then everything went black.

Mac climbed along the outside of the rail and reached for his friend when the lifeless body toppled backward toward the sea.

The crook of Jonas's right knee caught in the curvature of the hook, suspending his body twenty feet above the water like a piece of meat.  Mac reached out precariously and grabbed him around the waist as the luminous glow rose beneath him.

The beast launched itself from the ocean, jaws agape, its upper torso rising alongside the stern of the moving ship.  Mac jerked Jonas away from the open maw, practically tossing his friend's body over his shoulder and onto the deck.

Missing its prey, the shark clamped down onto the A-frame.  For a surreal moment, the creature held on, its stark-white belly leaning against the transom as its immense bulk fell backward, dragging the winch, A-frame, and twenty feet of splintered decking over the side in a mangled heap, the screech of twisted steel screaming in the night.

Mac pulled Jonas close and ducked as the entire winch and cable assembly seemed to jump overboard.

"Jonas—Jonas, wake up!"  Mac checked his airway.  "Damn it, he's not breathing!  Harry, get the doc, I can't feel a pulse.  Harry, goddamn it, get the doctor!"

The stern of the William Beebe looked like it had been struck by a tornado.  Standing in the midst of the debris, mesmerized, were Harry and Maren.  Ignoring Mac, they continued staring at the white dorsal fin until it disappeared beneath the vessel's churning wake.