14.

Tanaka Oceanographic Institute
Monterey, California

It is after two in the morning by the time Jonas and Mac return to the Institute.

The research lab is located in the basement of the new Meg Pen wing—an air-locked chamber covering three thousand square feet, not counting its two-hundred-foot walk-in freezer. There are six work stations equipped with aluminum tables, fresh and salt water sinks, and high-speed computers, each linked to high-capacity duplex laser printers, a format plotter, slide scanner, and an image analyzer. Another work table spans the length of the entire back wall, its table top littered with beakers and test tubes, petri dishes, refrigerated centrifuges, fluorometers, spectrophotometers, pH meters, and both inverted and compound microscopes equipped with cameras and Nomarski optics.

Seated between Dr. Stelzer and Dr. Nichols along the back wall is a husky Caucasian man with brown-black hair and a matching goatee, trimmed close. He’s peering through a microscope, making notes on a legal pad.

Dr. Nichols greets Jonas and Mac as they enter the heavily air conditioned chamber. “Jonas, my sincerest condolences regarding the death of your sub pilot. If I had known—”

“Why am I here?”

“You’re here because we’ve discovered something important . . . as fascinating as it is frightening.”

Mac points. “Who’s the new guy?”

“A colleague of mine, Dr. Jesse Brown. Dr. Brown’s a forensic scientist. I hope you don’t mind me asking him here, but what we found . . . it’s way over my head. Better I let Dr. Brown explain it . . . he’s the expert.”

Jesse Brown looks up from his microscope, his glasses fogging. He wipes them, using his tie. “Dr. Taylor, heard you had a rough day. Hope I’m not adding to it.”

“I’ll let you know after I’ve heard what you have to say.”

“At the request of Dr. Nichols, I’ve spent the better part of the last six hours analyzing DNA samples taken from the Megalodon you call Angel, her deceased runt, the runt’s big sister, and the two potential fathers. Before I explain the results, it’s important that you understand the process. Essentially what we’re doing is creating a nuclear DNA profile. Be it prehistoric shark or human, each of us receives half our DNA from our mother and half from our father. This is set at conception and does not change over time, except when cancerous cells are involved. No two individuals, other than identical siblings, have the same DNA profile.

“In humans, DNA is the same throughout the body . . . be it hair roots, skin cells, or white blood cells. Reproductive cells all have the same DNA profile. We don’t use red blood cells as they don’t have a nucleus. Now, I’m not a marine biologist, nor am I a Megalodon expert, but I think it’s safe to assume that the DNA rules that apply to humans and other species also apply to your monsters.

“Forensically, we’re evaluating sixteen Short Tandem Repeats, or STRs in the nuclear DNA. STRs, are short sequences of DNA, normally two to five base pairs in length, that are repeated numerous times in a head-tail manner throughout the genome. For instance—” Dr. Brown points to his computer screen “—in this sixteen base pair sequence of ‘tagatagatagataga’ we have four head-tail copies of the tetramer ‘taga,’ a sequence that demonstrates sufficient commonality among individuals, making them—

Jonas yawns, cutting him off. “Sorry. No disrespect, but it’s late, and my brain’s not functioning well at the moment.”

“Then I’ll cut to the chase. When it comes to determining if a specific male Megalodon conceived either the dead runt or its bigger sibling, we’re pretty conservative with our cutoff, 99.9% being the minimum value for stating that the male is most likely the biological father. If it’s 99.89%, then the male is definitely not the father.”

“That’s pretty scary,” says Mac, stretching out on an aluminum table. “Having once been accused of fathering a child to a certain Filipino woman back in my heydays on Guam, I would have had a heart attack if you told me there was a 99.89% chance that little Rafael Herrera carried Mackreides blood.”

Dr. Brown smiles. “It may not seem like a big difference, but in the world of DNA, it’s day and night. The reality is, we share a lot of DNA with a lot of different things. Almost 60% of our DNA is shared with a bacteria. We share 98% with chimps. A recent study found we share 154 genes with mice, dogs, and, believe it or not, elephant sharks. It’s only the slightest percentile that makes us unique.”

“That’s what I told Concepción, but she wouldn’t listen. Hell, the woman had fourteen kids . . . she was playing the lottery.”

Jonas clears his throat. “Doc, the Megs?”

“Right. Let’s begin with the big sibling, Belle. My tests reveal a 99.9999% chance or higher in favor of an inclusion, meaning the big male was definitely Belle’s father. As for the runt, Angelica, the shark DNA profile is 98.7% for both the big male and the Meg you call Scarface. Absolutely no match. Zero.”

Jonas squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Which means there’s another male out there.”

“No, there’s not,” Dr. Nichols states, his eyes widening. “This is the fascinating and really scary part. Tell him, Jesse.”

“The three runts—Angelica, Mary Kate, and Ashley—were not conceived by a male Megalodon. Angel’s eggs were fertilized . . . by Angel.”

Jonas feels queasy. “You lost me. Did you just say Angel conceived the three runts herself . . . that there was no father?”

“Precisely.”

“That’s not all, J.T.,” Dr. Stelzer adds. “I checked the eggs we removed from Angelica. The runt’s eggs were fertilized as well.”

Jonas finds an empty chair and sits, his mind attempting to grasp the information at hand. “How is any of this possible? I mean, you’re looking at a guy who grew up questioning the whole immaculate conception deal with the Virgin Mary, but this?”

“Sex-free reproduction in the animal kingdom is far from unprecedented,” says Dr. Brown, defogging his glasses again with his tie. “We know of more than five hundred different species that reproduce without sex. Take the common greenfly. Every summer the females give birth to exact replicas of themselves, sex never entering the equation. Another example is the whiptail lizard, found in the southwestern United States. There are no known male whiptail lizards in existence, the species is made entirely of females that lay eggs which hatch as females genetically identical to their mother.”

“Several examples of asexual, or parthenogenesis have now been documented in sharks,” Dr. Nichols adds. “The first case was in Florida Bay a few years back when a hammerhead shark gave birth without mating. At first, scientists thought someone had dropped the pup in the tank as a hoax, but after testing its DNA they determined it was a genetic duplicate of its mother—with no paternal genes. Same thing happened with a blacktip reef shark a few years later. Man has been decimating the ocean’s shark populations . . . perhaps nature found a way to counteract some of the effects.”

“Yes, but aren’t these fatherless offspring weaker?”

“Not at all. Granted, the two siblings—Belle and Lizzy—are far bigger specimens than the three runts. But I think it’s safe to say that in years to come, the runts will grow to be just as large as their mother. After all, they are Angel’s genetic duplicate.”

“Wonderful,” Jonas whispers. “Just what we need.”

“I don’t get it,” Mac says. “Are you saying male Megs are on the outs?”

“It’s very possible. For a moment, forget the fact that sex is pleasurable and remains, at least for now, the most common way in which humans reproduce. I say most common, because there are, of course, other ways to impregnate a female, including in vitro fertilization. For now, accept the fact that sex and reproduction are two entirely different things. By definition, sex is two cells fusing to become one, while reproduction is one cell dividing to become two. When it comes down to the survival of a species, reproduction is far more important than sex.

“I’ll give you an example. Let’s take Angel’s mother, whom we’ll call Momma Meg, and Angel’s deceased runt, the Virgin Angelica. Momma Meg, living in the nutritionally challenged depths of the Mariana Trench, relies on the conventional, and quite restricted, method of conceiving baby Megs through sex. Her grandchild, the Virgin Angelica, living in a habitat with plenty of food, reproduces without sex, her eggs released pre-inseminated during ovulation. Let’s say Momma Meg has four pups—two males and two females. A generation later, her two females have identical litters—again, two males and two females. Meanwhile, the Virgin Angelica, having no need for males, has produced four female pups. In turn, each of her four daughters have four daughters of their own. After only two generations, Momma Meg is responsible for eight new pups, four females and four males.

“Our Virgin Angelica, on the other hand, has produced all females, which have yielded a total of twenty pups. In the next generation, those twenty females can potentially produce another eighty female pups for a running total of one hundred Megs, while old Momma Meg, still relying on sex with males, can yield a maximum of only thirty-two pups, assuming, of course, each of these females can, in turn, link up with a suitable male partner. Let’s face it, gentlemen, when it comes to the survival of a species, males are dead-end products. Not only can’t we reproduce, but we also consume a lot of food.”

Mac smiles. “Some of us more than others, eh Doc?”

“Let’s not forget,” adds Dr. Stelzer, ignoring Mac’s comment, “that with Carcharodon megalodon, it’s the females that are bigger, nastier, and far more dominant than males. Angel actually hunted down and killed her mate to establish dominance in her territory.”

“Maybe it was revenge,” says Mac, only half-joking. “I saw video of the insemination; Angel wasn’t exactly having a good time.”

“Regardless,” Dr. Brown states, “the point here is that sex is clearly an inefficient method of reproduction. With their numbers dwindling close to extinction, it makes perfect sense that Megalodon would eventually evolve to sex-free reproduction. For all we know, it could have been the species’ adaptation back to surface waters that triggered the event.”

Dr. Stelzer nods in agreement. “Now you know why we wanted to speak with you. If Angelica was pregnant, then there’s a good chance the two surviving runts you just sold to the Dubai Aquarium are pregnant too—or will be very soon. They’re en route as we speak.”

Jonas feels his blood pressure simmer. “Jon, what the hell are you talking about? The runts weren’t scheduled to leave for another week.”

“Jonas, what choice did we have? Belle destroyed the Meg Pen gate, and the medical pool is far too small to keep the runts another week. Terry agreed it was safer to move them now.”

“Terry?”

“We tried to reach you. When we couldn’t—”

“Okay, fine, you did the right thing.” Jonas forces himself to think. David’s in Dubai if you need him to monitor the runts . . . “What about Belle and Lizzy? Is there any way to tell if their eggs are fertile?”

Mac shakes his head. “After what happened today, I don’t think you want to go there. My advice: Assume the worst and you won’t be disappointed.”

Dr. Stelzer isn’t through. “Since we’re examining worst-case scenarios, there’s one more we need to consider: It’s highly possible that Angel is also pregnant.”

Jonas and Mac groan.

“No . . . no . . . think about it! She hasn’t fed in weeks. She even regurgitated the snack David managed to get in her. Her behavior’s been erratic. She’s certainly put on weight. And we know she’s already reproduced one litter of pups without sex. It’s been four years . . . I’m telling you, she could be pregnant.”

For a moment, no one says a thing, the enormity of the statement simply hanging in the air.

Finally, it is Jonas that speaks, his right hand trembling noticeably. “This is insane. We cannot allow the most dangerous predator in the history of the planet to make a comeback. Agreed?”

Mac and the three scientists nod in unison.

“Okay, then. Keeping in mind the PETA crazies are watching our every move, how do we stop the insanity?”

“Not a whole lot of options,” Dr. Nichols replies. “You either find a means to sterilize Angel and her pups . . . or you kill them.”