Tentacles by Roland Smith
Phil set the can on Wolfe’s desk. “I was just down in the cargo hold with a couple of guys, rearranging the shipping containers for your dinosaur playroom. One of the containers seemed lighter than the others, so we opened it up to see what was inside.”
“And you found a half-eaten can of pork and beans,” Wolfe said, wondering why Phil was bothering him with this.
“Nope,” Phil said. “We found cases of pork and beans. Dozens of empty cans, a sleeping bag, flashlight batteries, disposable razors, dirty socks, underwear —”
“The stowaway,” Wolfe said.
“His hideout, anyway. He wasn’t home. He moved the stuff from the container to the other containers and rigged a way of locking the door from the inside.”
“Did you tell Al?”
“He’s down there right now with his forensic kit, lifting finger-prints. After he finishes, he’s going to stake it out and see if the guy comes back, but I don’t think he will. No clothes except for the socks and shorts. No toiletry stuff. He’s moved up in the world and it might have been me and Laurel who tipped him off. When we were scouting the hold, we weren’t exactly whispering. We talked about Grace, Blackwood, Cryptos, and — I hate to admit it — baby dinosaurs.”
Wolfe frowned.
“Laurel said that she thought something was wrong down there. Said that she felt something. I thought she might be thinking about what happened on the ship before you bought it. But it looks like she was right.”
Wolfe’s frown turned into a scowl.
“Sorry,” Phil said.
“I’m not mad at you. I wouldn’t have been whispering down there, either. Maybe he wasn’t there.”
Phil shook his head. “He was there all right. The only way he could have figured out we were relocating anything to the cargo hold was if he overheard us.”
Wolfe’s phone rang. He hit the SPEAKER button.
“Are you sitting down?” Al asked.
“Yeah. I’m sitting at my desk looking at a can of pork and beans with a spoon in it. Phil’s with me.”
“Anyone else within earshot?”
“No, we’re alone.”
“The prints belong to Butch McCall.”
“Butch McCall is on my ship!” Wolfe shouted, jumping up from his chair. “How’d he get aboard so fast?”
“He had to have help.”
“We have to get guards on Grace, Marty, and even Luther. Anyone who can identify him is a target.”
“I’ve already taken care of that. We’re a little shorthanded, so we’ll have to keep the targets together as much as possible. Ana is another potential target. She’s in my office right now and we’re going over the footage from the press conference, downloading stills into a computer program and trying to figure out how he might have disguised himself. He can change his face, but he can’t change his size. We’ll find him.”
Wolfe wasn’t so sure. He and Butch had been adversaries for years, and Butch had come out on top more than once.
“I’d better get down to the galley and tell Bertha,” Phil said.
“Tell her that I want her to personally guard Grace,” Wolfe said. “I want her with Grace 24/7. I assume she came aboard armed?”
“Not that she needs a weapon to take someone out,” Phil said. “But yeah, as always, she showed up with a small arsenal. Any idea who might be helping Butch?”
“It has to be one of the old-timers,” Wolfe said. “And there’s only about fifteen aboard, including you and Bertha. Let’s have a little get-together with our old friends and see if we can get one of them to crack.”
“I’m on it,” Phil said, and left the cabin.
* * *
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet out in the open on deck like this, Butch. We shouldn’t be seen together.”
“We’ll be fine,” Butch said to the little man who had gotten him onto the Coelacanth. “By the way, I never did catch your name.”
“Mitch,” the man said.
Snitch, Butch thought. “We’re alone up here, Mitch,” Butch said. “If someone comes along, it’s just two crew members getting some fresh air and shooting the breeze.”
“I’m serious,” Mitch insisted. “Something’s up. Phil just called a bunch of us to meet with him and Wolfe. Everyone on the list has been on Cryptos from almost the beginning. I think they know there’s a stowaway and one of us helped him get aboard.”
Butch snorted. “You’re way behind them. By now they know the stowaway is me.”
Mitch looked like he was going to be sick. “What are you going to do?”
Butch pointed across the water toward Blackwood’s ships. “See those lights?”
“Endangered One and Too. That’s all anyone’s been talking about since they anchored. Do you think Noah’s aboard?”
“He’s aboard,” Butch said, although he didn’t know for certain.
“I might be able to get you a life raft,” Mitch said. “You could reach him in no time.”
“And leave you here alone?” Butch said.
“I’ll be okay. I’ve been feeding Noah information for years and they haven’t caught me yet.”
Noah, Butch thought and almost laughed. Like this little snitch is on a first-name basis with Noah Blackwood! Butch himself wasn’t even on a first-name basis with Dr. Blackwood. In fact, the only person he knew who was on a first-name basis with Noah Blackwood was Travis Wolfe, which annoyed Butch to no end.
Butch took out the Gizmo and thumbed in a message to Dr. Blackwood.
“Are you telling Noah you’re coming?”
“Something like that. I don’t have time to get a raft and I might get caught. I guess I’m going to have to swim.”
“It’s not that far,” Mitch said. “And the sea’s calm.”
“So, you’re a pretty good swimmer?”
“I swim like a fish.”
Butch nodded and took a waterproof bag out of his pocket. Inside were several folded sheets of paper. He slipped the Gizmo in with the papers and resealed the bag.
“I won’t be needing this anymore,” he said, and shoved the bag deep into the snitch’s pocket.
“Noah might want it,” Mitch said.
“You’re right,” Butch said. “And you’d better make sure he gets it.”
“What?”
Butch answered by pushing Mitch the Snitch over the rail.
Mitch was not nearly as fast or lucky as Marty O’Hara. He hit the cold water two seconds after the push.
Butch walked away from the railing, whistling, hoping for Mitch’s sake that Blackwood was checking his email.
* * *
Noah Blackwood was in the middle of typing a press release to his public relations firm.
Even though exhausted from my recent ordeal in the Congo, I have decided to join my good friends, the Northwest Zoo and Aquarium, in their pursuit of the giant squid. I am participating in a completely voluntary and supportive role. This is their expedition. I am simply here to lend a hand and offer my experience should they need and ask for it. Should they be successful, and I hope they are, I will be the first in line to see this magnificent creature of the deep at their wonderful aquarium.
He smiled and hit the SEND button. Within hours the article would appear in every major newspaper around the world, setting the stage for Noah Blackwood to save the day once again.
Noah stood and stretched, debating whether he should order a late-night snack from his personal chef or just go to sleep in his luxurious bedroom.
A snack before bed, he thought, and was about to call the galley and order it up when his computer indicated that he had an incoming email.
Subject: We’ve been found out
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Unfortunately, we have worn out our welcome here. As you read this we are swimming your way. If possible could you please send a boat to pick us up and assure our safe arrival? Butch
We? Noah thought. Our safe arri
Noah punched a button on the intercom and told the captain to launch the tender to pick up the unexpected and unwelcome passengers. If Butch didn’t have an excellent excuse for abandoning the Coelacanth, Noah would personally toss him off the Endangered One and never think of him again.
* * *
Al Ikes walked into Wolfe’s cabin carrying a single sheet of paper.
“This better be good news,” Wolfe said.
“Depends on how you look at it,” Al said, handing him the page.
Wolfe read the printout of Butch’s last email.
“Good news, bad news,” Al said. “Good news, it looks like Butch is off the ship. Bad news, he does have a Gizmo, and in a few minutes Noah Blackwood is going to have that Gizmo and he’s going to know where everyone aboard is located.”
“Who jumped ship with Butch?”
“Mitch Merton.”
“Are you sure? Mitch has been our head maintenance chief for years. He would be the last person I’d suspect.”
“We’re tracking his tag and it’s headed directly toward Endangered One.”
“Can we pick them up before they get there?”
“Joe jumped into a Zodiac as soon as we intercepted the email, but Blackwood got his tender in the water before we did. We can track directly to the tag; they can’t. So there’s a chance we might reach Butch first.”
Al’s radio beeped. “Al here.”
“Sorry, boss,” Joe said. “They got lucky. Grabbed them before I was even close.”
“Were you close enough to see them haul them in?”
“Negative.”
Wolfe looked at his Gizmo and saw Mitch’s tag speeding toward the Endangered One.
“Do a sweep, Joe,” Al said. “Only one of them had a tag. The one we want might have gotten separated.”
“It’s not likely they got separated,” Wolfe said. “They wouldn’t be heading back to the Endangered One without Butch aboard.”
“I’m just trying to be thorough,” Al said. “I’ll call Joe back in a few minutes. We need him back on board. Roy is handling security all on his own. Can we turn the Gizmo off remotely from here so Blackwood can’t use it?”
Wolfe shook his head. “No. If we could, we would have done it when Ted told us he thought Butch had the Gizmo. Ted can give you the technical details, but the Gizmos are linked in a chain. If you take one offline, they all go offline. I should have had you monitoring the emails as soon we found out one had been stolen. That was a huge blunder. We can turn off all the tags, making Butch’s Gizmo virtually useless. I guess with Butch and Mitch off the ship we don’t need the tags anyway.”
“That’s if Mitch was the only one helping Butch,” Al said. “And if Butch actually went overboard. We don’t have concrete proof that he did.”
“Why would Butch give Mitch the Gizmo? It wouldn’t be much help aboard the Endangered One.”
“You know Butch better than anybody here,” Al said. “How smart is he?”
“He’s pretty bright in a predatory way, with incredible survival instincts, meaning he knows when to cut and run, or in this case jump and swim. If you’re asking me whether he’s smart enough to fake leaving the Coelacanth, the answer is: maybe. That kind of clever thinking is in Noah Blackwood’s realm. But Butch has been with Blackwood a long time. I’m sure he’s learned a few things from the master.”
* * *
The master sat behind his rosewood desk with his steely eyes fixed on a wet and shivering Mitch Merton.
“Where’s Butch?”
“He threw me overboard!” Mitch shouted. “I could have drowned.”
“Well, you didn’t, so shut up. Is Butch still aboard the Coelacanth?”
“As far as I know,” Mitch said bitterly. “He’s probably sitting in the galley having a hot cup of coffee and a slice of pie. Just before he tossed me, he gave me this.” Mitch dropped the wet waterproof bag on Blackwood’s desk.
Noah opened it and skimmed the papers. He stopped skimming when he got to the paragraph about dinosaur hatchlings in Lab Nine that were growing so fast they were building a bigger place for them in the cargo hold. He read the paragraph twice, then looked up at the shivering Mitch Merton.
“This is excellent,” Noah said, setting the papers on his desk and picking up the Gizmo. “Show me how this thing works.”
Mitch demonstrated how to use the Gizmo.
In his note, Butch said that the kids’ tags and those of the others taking care of the dinosaurs had been turned off. Noah typed in Albert Ikes’s name and saw that he was in Wolfe’s cabin, no doubt talking about what they were going to do. This little invention would come in very handy tomorrow morning.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” Mitch asked.
Noah looked up crossly.
“I mean, I can’t go back to Cryptos,” Mitch continued. “Thanks to Butch, my cover’s completely blown.”
Noah looked at him for a moment, then smiled. “Are you good with your hands, Mitch?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been making my living with my hands my whole life. They’re like precision instruments. I could have been a brain surgeon if I’d wanted to. What do you have in mind?”
“Taxidermy,” Noah said pleasantly.
“You mean stuffing dead animals?”
“No, I mean fine art. The ability to make the dead come back to life. I have the perfect position for you at the Ark. You’ll like it.”
“How much does it pay?” Mitch asked.
“Don’t worry,” Noah said. “You’ll have all the money you need.”
Noah looked back down at the Gizmo, scanned the names with active tags, and selected one of them.
“Who’s Theo Sonborn?” He was in the Moon Pool area.
“One of the old-timers,” Mitch answered. “He’s an idiot and lazy. I’m not sure why Wolfe has kept him on all these years. I guess he’s a charity case. And he’s a miserable cook. He ran the galley when we set sail and we all thought we were going to be poisoned.”
“According to Butch’s notes the Moon Pool is restricted,” Noah said.
“It is,” Mitch confirmed. “I’ve only been down there once, when I helped haul the dolphins down. There’s a keypad at the entrance and you have to have a code, which I hear they change from time to time.”
“Why do you think Theo Sonborn is down there right now?” Noah asked.
Mitch shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. He seems to have access to everything. He pops up all over the place, but I’ve never seen him do a lick of work. The guy’s a loser. Like I said, Wolfe is crazy to keep him on.”
Noah picked up Butch’s notes and looked for Theo Sonborn’s name. It wasn’t there. Why would Travis Wolfe give a loser access to a restricted area?
The Gizmo flickered and a tired-looking Travis Wolfe appeared on the tiny screen.
“Hello, Noah.”
“Travis. How wonderful to see you!”
“Don’t even start, Noah. I need to talk to Butch.”
“What are you talking about, Travis? You know as well as I do that Butch is recuperating from a bout of malaria back in Seattle. He is in no condition to travel.”
Noah had no doubt that Wolfe was taping this miniature video conference, and he had no intention of saying anything self-incriminating.
“And please thank Ted again for giving me this Gizmo,” Noah continued.
“Ted did not give you the Gizmo,” Wolfe said.
“I stand corrected,” Noah said cheerfully. “He loaned it to me. Regardless, it’s a wonderful invention and I do hope you’ve recorded ou
“What are you doing here, Noah?”
Noah laughed. “As we agreed, my presence here is completely supportive and subordinate. I’m here to help only if you need me, which I doubt you will with the wonderful crew you’ve put together.”
“We don’t have any agreement,” Wolfe said. “And we never had an agreement.”
“Certainly not in writing, Travis. But your phone call to me asking for help is all I needed. As we discussed, old colleagues like us don’t need lawyers and contracts. Our word to each other is the only contract we need. I’m simply here because you requested it.”
“That’s a lie,” Wolfe said. “There was no phone call. We didn’t ask you to come here.”
Noah lowered his voice and became serious. “Travis, you haven’t been drinking again, have you? I warned you and Ted about that all those years ago. I told you then that drinking would be your downfall if you didn’t stop it. Remember the last time?”
“There was no last time,” Wolfe said.
“Not that you and Ted could possibly remember,” Noah said. “You and he were passed out on your bunks when I captured the great white shark. I don’t hold it against you and Ted for taking credit for catching that great white, but I did think with all the success you two have had the past few years it meant that you had given up the bottle.”
Noah was now enjoying himself immensely. He, too, had seen the video of the press conference and knew he had lied on camera about the great white. He looked at the Gizmo screen and saw that it was recording his and Wolfe’s conversation. When he finished the call, he would give the Gizmo to his video technicians and have them edit it to make Travis look like an idiot.
Aboard the Coelacanth, a completely frustrated Travis Wolfe glanced up at Al Ikes, who was shaking his head. Wolfe looked back at the Gizmo screen and the calm but deeply concerned face of Noah Blackwood.
“We’re shutting down all the tracking tags,” Wolfe said. “You might as well toss the Gizmo into the ocean for all the good it will do you.”