The Black Silent

CHAPTER 43

As they approached the dock surrounding Glaucus's pen, they saw two men bent over the edge of the dock.

"That's McStott," Ben said. "Probably wants a hunk of Glaucus."

McStott and the other man stood and stared at them as they approached. Neither Sam nor Ben made any attempt to disguise himself, and McStott ran back up the dock toward the Oaks Building. Sam could see McStott going for his cell phone.

"Quick," Ben said. "Let me out."

Ben hopped off the Whaler and onto the dock. He tried to lift a wooden section that spanned the main concrete sections.

Haley tied a line to a cleat as Sam crawled off the boat to help Ben. They lifted up the section of dock, exposing the cable that held fast the top of the net over the pen.

"I'll get some squid," Haley said, running for the small house that held Glaucus's food.

She returned with a large bucket and a strange-looking megaphone and set them down.

Then, stopping to think for a moment, she changed directions and ran down the dock to a large aluminum workboat. Its main feature was a large circulating-saltwater tank amidships. The huge tank took up most of the boat's interior. It had to measure six feet across, ten feet long, and five feet deep. Because the boat, known as the Venture Too, was lined with ventilated wooden stripping over a thick layer of Styrofoam, with all the benches along the gunnels made of wood, cored with Styrofoam, the boat was unsinkable. But for the huge cost and some upkeep requirements, it was pure pragmatism for a biologist.

It was a roomy and open vessel with an eleven-foot beam and benches running along most of its length, even beside the tank. If needed, it could accommodate easily twenty students or visiting biologists.

"Give me the whooper," Ben said.

Sam presumed he meant the megaphone and bait. He complied.

"They obviously didn't know to use it." Ben ruffled the water with his hand, dumped over a few squid, and put the metal horn of the whooper in the water.

Sam looked over the edge and observed what could only be described as a giant creature coming up the sidewall of the net. The head of the creature was enormous-the size of a garbage can-and coming out of it were eight tentacles, larger than a big man's thighs. They were long and graceful and the span of the creature was too large to determine, with suctioned arms going in every direction. An orange brown color was apparent.

The whooper made a low sound, something like the bass pedal on an organ. As the creature came inexorably upward, Sam was in awe of its smooth grace and obvious strength. He told himself that the creature's mass was 25 percent smaller than it appeared in the water because of the water's lense effect. In about a minute a tentacle came up and Ben ran the food up and down the creature's suction cups, teasing him, then let a tentacle tip slop around in the bucket.

Sam marveled at the length of Glaucus's arms, at least fifteen feet; the span of him now appeared over thirty.

"He can taste with his suction cups," Ben murmured.

Soon the mammoth octopus hovered just below the surface and Ben could see the large gills blowing the water in through the creature's huge mantle. Ben talked with the creature as though it could understand Ben's voice, and he kept rubbing up and down his suction cups. At Haley's instruction Sam retrieved more buckets of food and put them along the inside of the workboat. With the circulating-saltwater tank pumps turned on, Haley pulled the boat across the opening and parallel to the dock.

"I've done this before on the dock and with this boat," Ben said. "He'll be pissed, but he'll probably let us coax him in. These guys can stay out of the water for thirty minutes or so. Glaucus doesn't like it much, although one time he walked across the dock and tried to get in the shed. After that, we built the overhang."

"We've only got minutes," Sam said, thinking about Frick and the boat that would be coming behind them. Sam and Haley stood along the side of the boat and began gently pulling the creature, while Ben continued to encourage him by rubbing the squid along his suction cups.

Sam was watching the dock when he saw McStott creeping around with a gun in his hand. Sam fired two shots just over his head. McStott turned and ran as fast as his considerable girth would allow.

Slowly they raised the unruly creature until they managed to get a tentacle into the saltwater tank, now baited with hundreds of squid. Sam hoped Glaucus would like what he tasted. Haley grabbed a hose hooked to a saltwater pump and began spraying the parts of Glaucus that were exposed. Finally they had his massive brown-looking head up to the gunnel. His eyes were the size of half-dollars. Ben got a large tarp from the dock, put it under Glaucus, and they used it like a hammock. With several back-wrenching lifts, which to the creature were just good nudges, they got Glaucus over the edge and he eagerly joined the food in the tank. Glaucus used his tentacles to move the food to his beak, but only for a few moments. Glaucus quickly became unhappy, flashed red, and tried to climb out of the tank.

"Get the tarp over him," Ben said.

Ben and Haley jumped on Glaucus, while Sam got the tarp over the tank. Sam threw off the dock lines, started the motors, and gave the boat full throttle.

Glaucus put a tentacle out from under the tarp, still flashing red in a pulsating rhythm.

Ben spoke gently and Haley climbed on top of the giant lump under the tarp, trying to hold the seven-hundred-pound mass of muscle in his cage.

"This is not a happy octopus," Ben shouted. "He'll be leaving when he really wants to."

Frick had the throttles of the thirty-two-foot Donzi wide open before he was out of Deer Harbor. The use of the boat for a day had cost San Juan County $5,000, but he wouldn't be around to pay it. Powered by three 250-hp Mercury out-boards, it was a fast boat designed to get rich fishermen to the fishing grounds in a hurry.

As they passed out of the harbor, McStott called. His voice shook in panic. "They're here. I tried to call you. They've about got the octopus in the workboat."

"Shoot the bastards."

"Chase just shot at me," McStott said, breathless. "I've never shot a gun and don't want to."

"You little prick. It has a trigger. Point and pull."

"I can't."

"Get the guards," Frick shouted into the phone.

"They saw Ranken, man," McStott said, almost crying. "They're long gone."

"Do something, McStott," Frick said, "or you're gonna end up like Ranken."

Frick hung up. "It's useless," he said to Khan. "It won't matter. We'll catch them. That boat is slower than hell. I'll take them all out with this." He patted the antitank rocket.

Khan just nodded, but looked grim.

They were past Wasp Islands in minutes, traveling at forty-five knots.

As they neared Friday Harbor, just north of the point of San Juan, McStott called again.

"They have Glaucus and they've gone."

"Which way?" Frick asked.

"Toward the Straits of Juan de Fuca. Glaucus is in a tank under a blue tarp."

Frick stopped the boat in San Juan Channel and looked with glasses. He sighted the workboat moving down San Juan channel, ahead of them, toward the straits.

"We got 'em now," he said to Khan. "Get the rocket launcher ready."

"Head toward the straits, but stay in the middle of the channel," Ben said. Sam flipped on the bilge pump because Glaucus was sloshing gallons of water out of his tank as he struggled.

Haley's phone rang.

"Answer it," Sam said, thinking it might be a cop.

Haley was bouncing around on Glaucus and held up her phone. Ben took it and answered.

"It's Ernie," he said to Sam.

"Yo," Sam replied.

"I'm at the docks at Friday Harbor, Where are you?"

"Get a boat and follow us. We're just pulling out of Friday Harbor. Forty-foot aluminum boat. Wheelhouse on the back."

"I see you. Can't you come and get me?" Ernie said.

"No time. Get a boat and follow."

"How the hell… Okay… I got cash. There're some guys here. Bye."

By dangling his tentacles, Ben said, Glaucus knew that the wide blue sea wasn't far. He obviously thought he could crawl there pronto.

Haley tried again to get the tarp down all around the huge beast and keep all his tentacles in the tank, but she was losing the battle. A set of massive suckers felt her back and played with her shirt. It was almost comical. Then the creature erupted and Haley was on a wild ride, trying to hold it down and keep herself in the boat. Ben took the wheel and Sam tried to keep the tarp down, but the creature was strong enough to throw the new intruder off its back.

Haley managed to stay mostly in place, bouncing up and down, constantly fondled by Glaucus's tentacles.

Sam crept up beside Haley, then grabbed as much of Glaucus's bulk as possible, giving him a mighty squeeze. For some reason the bear hug calmed Glaucus, or distracted him, much like pinching a horse's upper lip. Gradually Sam worked him back over the edge of the tank.

When Glaucus moved again, Sam squeezed harder. It was a standoff.

Sam looked at Ben, wondering how long he'd have to remain engaged with the wily invertebrate.

"When octopuses make love, they get in a hug with all eight tentacles," Ben shouted, laughing. "They'll do it for hours."

"Great."

"Behind us," Haley called out. A boat was approaching a quarter-mile off.

The boat was obviously a fast one, closing the distance quickly. The bilge pumps were still pumping, but the aluminum workboat carried too much weight and too little power to make it a race.

A new noise joined the clamor. Sam looked behind them, then upward. It appeared to be a coast guard helicopter.

"It seems we have both the good guys and the bad guys converging," Sam yelled.

"They can't see us drop Glaucus in the straits. They can't find him," said Ben. "Let's keep going."

Sam nodded. The big orange-and-white helicopter swooped low; the men inside obviously wanted them to stop.

"Can't trust anyone," Ben said over the whine of the chopper's jet engine.

Silently Sam agreed. Ben kept the outboards running at max throttle. Haley pumped water from the tank and bilges to lighten the boat. Sam kept Glaucus in an octopus embrace. He guessed they were cruising at just under thirty miles per hour. Frick was in a very fast boat and gaining on them.

Haley's phone rang again. It was Ernie.

"My boat is slow," Ernie said.

"So's ours. Keep coming," Sam said.

"Frick will catch us long before we get to the Straits of Juan de Fuca," Sam said after he had hung up.

"That's apparent," Ben said. "You would think he wouldn't do anything with a coast guard helicopter standing by…"

It was overcast all around, with a low, soft, undefined ceiling. To the right lay Griffin Bay, a broad expanse of water in the large hook of San Juan Island. Where San Juan Island and Lopez Island nearly converged, they created a narrower passage to the Straits of Juan de Fuca, replete with tide rips and bad seas on heavy wind days.

"Venture. Too. Venture Too. this is United States Coast Guard helicopter Lima, Papa, Bravo, Alpha, Tango. How do you copy?"

Ben said nothing. Sam tried putting a line around Glaucus, and pulling it tight as a substitute for the bear hug. The creature moved about like a simmering stew, but stayed put. Sam moved to the wheelhouse and picked up the mike.

"This is Venture Too" Sam said.

"Switch and answer twenty-two alpha."

"Roger that, twenty-two alpha."

Sam changed the channel.

"This is Venture Too."

"Venture Too, please return to Friday Harbor. We have some government officials and your friend Rachael Sullivan, who would like to speak with you."

"Copy that," said Sam. "We have a seven-hundred-pound octopus in the tank that we'll be delivering to the straits."

"Negative on that, Venture Too. Please return to Friday Harbor."

"We believe the boat right behind us is driven by Garth Frick," Sam said. "He's the murderer that law enforcement will soon be looking for. He's going to try to kill us."

"This is Special Agent Gayle Killingsworth; that doesn't seem very likely, so long as we are here."

"Get your guns ready," Sam said. "Last we saw, Frick has a rocket launcher."

"Say again. Rocket launcher?"

"Give me that," Ben said. "This is Ben Anderson, formerly of the Sanker Foundation.

Garth Frick is behind us and most certainly has been trying to kill us and won't hesitate to blow your ass out of the sky. Is that plain enough? I need to deliver this creature to deep water. It's a matter of life and death-he can only live out of the water for thirty minutes maximum-and I'm afraid we can't comply until we're done."

"The octopus will die if you turn around?" Killingsworth asked.

"Yes."

Haley had come up and was listening. She and Sam shared a glance at Ben's lie.

The coast guard's silence spoke volumes. Sam assumed that Rachael Sullivan had something to do with their arrival. If so, he could imagine Rachael pleading their case.

Ben gave the wheel to Sam, took the flask from Haley, stepped to the stern of the boat, and put it in a locker.

"I'll tell you if I decide to dump it," Ben said.

"Are you sure?" Haley said. The scientist inside her was no doubt screaming. They watched Frick's boat pull up behind and then swerve to the side, accelerate, and then come in close.

Frick waved a gun, motioning for them to stop.

Rachael and Lew sat, side by side, on a bench seat in the coast guard helicopter; Gayle Killingsworth sat to the far side of Rachael. Behind them sat two more FBI agents and one state police officer. Ahead and to the right was one airman and near a large open door another airman. In the front of the cockpit sat a pilot and a copilot.

They had been to San Juan, Lopez, then Orcas, and were returning to Sanker when Rachael saw what looked to her like the Sanker workboat in the distance, so they followed after to check it out. Gayle's attitude toward the mission had improved. The obvious evasions had convinced her that something was wrong under Garth Frick's command. After catching the workboat they had tried to turn them around, but Ben Anderson was a stubborn man. For his part, Frick insisted he was in hot pursuit of a murder suspect.

Gayle held a police radio provided by the sheriff's department. It crackled, the sheriff's dispatcher putting her in touch with the long-awaited county sheriff himself.

"Tiger One," the dispatcher said, using Gayle's chosen moniker. "I have Sheriff Larson, patched in on a landline."

"Go ahead." Killingsworth waited.

"Tiger One," said the sheriff, "this is Sheriff Larson. I'm gone for two days and all hell breaks loose."

"That's affirmative. What is your position on Garth Frick?"

"I never intended for him to be in the chain of command. I don't believe that two-oh-one would have put him in command. There must be a mix-up."

"What now?" she asked.

"I've got one-oh-one coming back from vacation and he is, as of this moment, in charge.

He can be reached on his cell phone and will arrive on the ferry within the hour."

"May I communicate this to Officer Frick and the other officers?" Killingsworth asked.

"If you can find Frick, you can tell him."

Gayle clicked off and nodded at Rachael.

"Seems we should have moved faster," she said. "I'll give you that. This is a massive mess."

They looked down at Venture Too and Frick right behind.

A new voice came on the radio frequency.

"This is Special Agent Ernie Sanders."

"Huh?" Killingsworth seemed taken aback.

Rachael cheered silently.

"I'm in a boat about two miles back," Ernie said, "and having a hard time catching the pack. My yacht's a little slow."

Killingsworth identified herself. "Where are you from?"

"Washington, DC, but as I mentioned, I'm offering my services. Seems I'm the only public servant down here with a boat."

Other than Frick, Rachael thought.

The pilot interrupted.

"I'm not liking what I'm seeing down in that chase boat."

At that moment the world for Rachael instantaneously went upside down-she heard a huge explosion and in an instant the chopper was violently spinning. She was thrown into Lew and felt herself still grabbing him when they hit the water with an unbelievable jolt. Green seawater poured from every direction, worse than a nightmare. Lew was frantically pulling off her shoes and yelling at Gayle to get hers off. They all wore inflatable life jackets.

Vaguely Rachael recalled being told not to inflate the vest until she was clear of the copter.

"Wait until it fills and you're out," Lew yelled.

Rachael grabbed Lew's hand with one of hers and his belt with the other.

It was torture watching the cabin fill. Brief torture-for it was full in seconds. Cold water hit her face and the world disappeared in an ugly green haze.