Dead Water

3

At precisely 1:00 p.m., the meeting that President Robert Williams had called convened in the Roosevelt Room. Joining him were Elliott Ragar, Matt Sanderson, Bernard Backersley, Charles Rockford, and Coverley Merritt, who had arrived early. This did not go unnoticed by the other four as they entered the room. Everyone nodded at each other while taking their seats.

President Williams spoke. "Elliott, you requested this meeting — why don't you start?"

"Yes, sir. Gentleman, please take a look at the screen. These pictures were taken yesterday. They show a fish kill of unbelievable proportions. The lake is located in an extremely remote area of Alaska. We've obviously had fish kills before, all over the world. However, by all appearances, this was a complete devastation of the aquatic population. Birds are also seen, both on top of the floating mass as well as along the shoreline. I strongly believe this should be investigated."

Bernard Backersley, director of the CIA, asked him, "Wouldn't this normally be handled by the CDC?"

"Yes. However, these are not normal times."

President Williams stood. "Elliott, we have not had the chance to discuss this. Are you suggesting the possibility that this is not a natural occurrence? It's my understanding that fish kills are usually the result of something causing a lack of oxygen in the water — red tide, for example."

"That is correct, sir. However, in this circumstance, there wasn't any sign whatsoever of any dead fish on the previous orbit. Granted, that was at last light the previous day. Then the next morning, the entire lake was completely covered with dead fish. Whatever caused that fish kill did it overnight. In my opinion, that is not natural."

There was a slight murmuring among the group. "I'm inclined to agree, Elliott," replied the president. "After the Madison Square Garden incident, anything suspicious must be identified. I want you to put together a team to go up there and research the cause. Your call on who goes. Charles, I want you to send someone from your group; Coverley, you too." Charles Rockford was the director of Homeland Security, while Coverley Merritt headed up the president's newly formed Department of the Presidential Office, tasked to work with all other agencies on terrorism to keep the president informed in real time. This new approach had been resisted by the others until President Williams set them straight. "Get on board or get out!" Compliance had been achieved, but reluctantly. "I want this to be a priority. Get on it now." That statement signaled the end of the meeting. The president left via a private door, while the others started to rise to head for the main entrance.

"Charles, Coverley, how long will it take for you to put people in place?" asked Elliott Ragar.

"Forty-five minutes for me," replied Charles Rockford.

"Same," agreed Coverley Merritt.

"Good. I'll have your people picked up. I'm going personally. We'll take the NSA jet. I'll keep both of you informed personally every step of the way. I'm also going to bring some CDC personnel and let them take the first steps. We need to know what we're dealing with before we just go hiking in there."

"Sounds like a solid plan, Elliott," responded Merritt.

President Williams sat at his desk in the Oval Office, thinking. He was trying to decide if he should apprise former captain Richard Starr on the event unfolding in Alaska. Better safe than sorry, he thought. He grabbed a secure line and hit the speed dial.

"Yes, sir," Starr answered on the third ring.

"Richard, something odd is happening in Alaska. There's been a massive fish kill in a very small lake in a remote region. It was picked up by one of our surveillance satellites. It's not like anything we've seen before. The speed in which it happened is what has us concerned. I'm going to give you the GPS coordinates. Pull it up and study the entire area. I honestly don't know if it will involve your group; however, I'd like you to be prepared just in case. Something is very odd, and I don't like odd."

"Yes, sir," Starr replied. "Anything particular I should be looking for?"

"Just look it over. Talk it over among yourselves. I've got a team, including CDC, on their way. It might be nice to get an outside perspective."

"I'll send Christman to pick up Phillips. I'll be in touch."

"Thank you, Richard."

"Anything to try to help, sir."

Starr heard the president hang up. He went outside to the gym that was set up in a barn. Former marine sergeant Marvin Styles was in the middle of his exercise routine. "When you take a break, come find me!" he yelled over at Styles, receiving a grunt in return. Then he went to find J. C. Christman, the former TOPGUN instructor assigned to the group. He heard one of the ATVs fire up and went scurrying over to stop him. "J. C., hold up."

Christman turned and looked at him and then shut the machine down. "Yeah, what's up, Starr?"

"The Man just called and wants us to take a look at something weird in Alaska, some kind of fish kill."

"Fish kill? How would that involve us?"

"Don't know that it does. He just wants us to take a look at it."

"Hell, Starr, about all I know of fish is all you can eat on a Friday night somewhere."

"J. C., just go get Phillips. If the president asks where to go eat, I'll defer to you, okay?"

Christman just grinned and said, "On my way. Does she know I'm coming?"

"Not yet. She will." Right then, Starr spotted Styles coming out of the barn and walked over to meet him.

"What's up?" Styles asked.

"Guess there's some kind of fish kill up in Alaska. President wants us to take a look at it."

"Fish? What the hell we got to do with fish?"

"Christ, I just went through that with Christman."

"So what'd you tell him?"

"Same thing I just told you. He's going after Phillips," he said, referring to the computer guru of the group. "I gotta go call her."

"You do that. I'm going back to the gym."

Starr turned and walked back to the house to make the call.

Back inside the main house of the property known as the Ranch, Starr grabbed the secure landline and hit the button for Phillips's cell. She didn't have a landline. She answered on the second ring.

"Yeah, Starr."

"J. C. is on his way to pick you up."

"This about the fish kill they just picked up on in Alaska?"

Starr was stunned. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I like to keep up on what's going on."

Starr just shook his head. "Well, you're right. The president wants us to take a look at it. He wants an outside opinion."

"From what I've learned, it happened overnight, and looks like it's a total wipeout of everything living in that lake."

"And you know that how?"

"I've seen the photographs, how else?"

Again, Starr just shook his head. "Of course you have. Don't know why I asked."

"Actually, I don't either."

"J. C. should be up there in about two hours, give or take."

"I'll be waiting. Should I bring anything?"

Starr couldn't help himself. "Just your usual bright and cheerful personality."

Click.

NSA Director Elliot Ragar had asserted himself right from the beginning that he was the man in charge. After assembling the entire research team with all personnel as directed by the president, they had boarded the NSA jet and flown to Alaska. They had flown directly to the airport in Bethel where three FBI helicopters were waiting. Aerial reconnaissance photographs had shown a small clearing approximately six miles from the small lake, their destination point.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had sent four specialists along with full hazardous material gear, including suits, specialty instruments, and a portable lab. The idea of flying over the lake had been discussed, but not knowing what lay ahead of them, that idea was tabled.

"I really think it best that the four of us hike in to inspect the lake first. Not much sense in having the whole team die because we're in a rush. I understand it's imperative that we find out what's going on, but we have to maintain certain standards here, Director Ragar," Lawrence Larkin stated emphatically. He was the researcher in charge of the CDC team.

Ragar didn't like it, but he couldn't find a plausible argument against him. "All right, but I want you in constant touch with me personally. As soon as you think it's safe, I want to see this for myself. I have to report to the president."

"Understood, sir." The CDC team assembled their gear, donned their hazmat suits, and then started toward the lake. It was crystal clear, just after nine in the morning. Burdened down as they were, it was estimated it would take them at least six hours to reach the target, possibly longer. This chafed at Ragar worse than a bad case of jock itch. Patience had never been his strongest virtue, something he'd been called down on several times during his career. He went back inside the copter, opened a briefcase, and grabbed a secure satellite phone.

"Yes, Elliott. What do you have for me?" answered President Williams.

"Not much of anything yet, sir; this is more of an update. The CDC team left ten minutes ago to check out the lake. They're going to let me know the second they can determine anything. It was agreed that no undue chances should be taken until we have some idea what we're dealing with."

"That sounds wise, Elliott. How long before they reach it?"

"At least six hours, sir. We set down in the chopper as close as we could, about six miles out. They're suited up, bringing a lot of equipment with them, so it'll be slow going."

"Try not to chew the insides of your mouth out, Elliott. I know how impatient you can be. Don't take any unnecessary risks. Appreciate the update, and keep me posted." He hung up.

Elliott Ragar decided to try to utilize the time beneficially. He got on his computer and Googled Fish Kills. He decided to learn as much about them as possible while the CDC crew made their way in.

Charles Rockford, director of Homeland Security, had decided to make the trip himself. In his mind, he didn't want to take the chance of being upstaged by Elliott Ragar. He knocked on the chopper's door.

"Come in."

Rockford entered. "Elliott, any suggestions on what we might do while we're waiting?"

"I'm on the web trying to find out everything I can about fish kills."

"Care for a hand? I'm going to go nuts if I don't find something constructive to do."

Ragar was a bit surprised. Charles Rockford had not been the easiest man to get along with. Might as well take advantage of free help. "Sure, Charles. Help yourself to that desk and type in moron when it asks for the pass code."

"Moron?"

Elliott Ragar grinned. "Yeah, who'd ever think of it?"

Rockford laughed. "I can't argue with that."

Soon both men were deeply engaged in their search. Three hours went by before either man spoke. Ragar straightened up, stood, and stretched.

This caught Rockford's attention. "Getting anywhere, Elliott?"

"Yeah, I'm getting more puzzled. I can't come up with anything even close to what we apparently have here."

"Same for me."

Dressed in their full hazmat suits, the four CDC researchers found making their way through the Alaskan forest difficult. Had the woods been thicker at the base of the trees, it would have been nearly impossible, at least not without damaging their suits. The temperature was cool enough that excessive body heat was not a problem. Slower than expected, the group made its way toward the lake. Twenty yards from the shoreline, the trees began to thin out, and glimpses of what was once a lake became visible. Within two minutes, all four were staring at a spectacle none really expected to see. They were looking at a solid mound of dead fish. Flies were already everywhere. Even birds had accumulated, beginning to feast on the buffet.

"Shit, Larry, do you believe this?" exclaimed Joey Tanelli, who was Lawrence Larkin's right-hand man. They had been working together for almost fifteen years.

"Not really. I've seen some major aquatic catastrophes before, but nothing like this. Get the portable satellite feed up and running. There are people who need to see this."

"It'll be up in five."

"Tracy, start collecting water samples — also half a dozen fish and some of those dead birds. Be sure you follow protocol to the letter. Alan, do a preliminary on the water. We'll have to do the fish back at the lab."

Larkin got NSA director Elliott Ragar on the phone. "Director, Larkin here. We've arrived at the site. It's like nothing I've seen before."

"Can you spot anything unusual from just looking at them?" asked Ragar.

"Their eyes are black — other than that, no."

"Black eyes?"

"Yes, sir."

"What does that mean?"

"Probably internal bleeding. We're going to wrap this up and start our way back before it gets too dark to travel. We'll find a place to hole up for the night and get back in the morning. We've got our samples on dry ice, so they'll be fine."

"Don't get eaten by a bear."

"Not to worry. Tanelli has that big Desert Eagle .50 with him. Damned gun could stop a bus."

"Understood. Check in every four hours."

"Yes, sir. We'll be back in the morning," he answered, ending the conversation.

"Sir!" Alan yelled over at him.

"Yeah, you find anything?"

"No, sir. Not a thing. Except for the biological waste from the rotting fish, far as I can tell, this water is fit to drink."

"What?"

"It's clean. Even the oxygen level is where it should be. Granted, there are other tests that need to be run to be absolutely certain, but from what I can tell, it's fine."

"The plot thickens," replied Larkin, who was known for his clichés. "Joey, you got that feed up and running?"

"Crystal clear, Larry. Beaming back video as we speak. I was just getting ready to launch our little drone for a fly around."

"Good. Concentrate on the shoreline and out near the middle. Don't take real long; I want to get away from this lake before dark."

"Fifteen minutes and I'll be done."

"Tracy, how are you doing with those samples?"

"Just about finished, sir," she replied. Tracy Bronn was the new member to the team. She'd graduated top of her class at the University of Hawaii and had been a great addition to Larkin's group.

While the other members were completing their assigned tasks, Larkin shot over a hundred photographs on his digital camera.

Finally, the group was packed up and ready to return. Larkin addressed his team. "Okay, everybody, nice and slow. It's almost dark, and we don't need any tears in anyone's suit to ruin the day. Joey, you get some good video for everyone?"

"Oh yeah. I already sent it back to Director Ragar."