Page 10 of Clive Cussler Desolation Code

Now they show up.

In some ways it wasn’t a surprise. Sea life in distress called to sharks like the mythical sirens; blood in the water sent them into a frenzy. Both things were present in abundance at the moment.

The whale reacted instinctively. Swinging its tail violently to the side and then up and down. The rope pulled tight, and the boat hook was yanked from Kurt’s hands. He lunged for it, but it vanished into the depths as the whale’s flukes smashed against the surface, creating an explosion of water and a thundering sound.

Two more sharks rushed in, but they turned away before attempting a bite.

Then another shark raced in and took a chunk out of the resting tail. Kurt saw only teeth and then the flash of a white belly as the shark ripped off a semicircle of flesh and then dove deep.

Joe gunned the throttle and turned the boat away as the whale’s flukes smashed downward, hitting the water with the sound of a shotgun blast and sending another surge of water their way.

Kurt grabbed the transom to avoid being thrown in. He squinted, looking for the rope through all the froth and foam. It was still attached.

“Get next to her,” he shouted. “Bump alongside if you have to.”

“You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Joe asked.

“Quickly.”

Joe brought the boat back alongside the struggling creature, bumping the animal’s flank as if it were a wooden dock. Behind him, Kurt leapt over the transom and onto the whale’s back. The owners of the cabin cruiser gawked, as did the men on the tugboat, but in reality, this was the safest spot Kurt could be at the moment. The sharks couldn’t get him, nor could the whale bend its tail far enough to hit him. It might buck him off like a wild bull in a rodeo, but that was about it. Holding on to the outside of the rope and straddling the tail, Kurt searched for the eyelet. If he could just release it, all would be well, but the gloom had become so dark he could barely see.

“Give me some light!” he shouted.

Spotlights at the back of the tug came on. As the light hit the water, the surface erupted with a thousand little splashes. The beams of light were dimmed for a second, as if covered by a cloud, and Kurt was battered by flying objects like a man caught in a cave of angry bats.

The whale bucked violently at the disturbance and Kurt wasthrown into the sea. Now he faced twice the danger. A blow from the tail would crush him instantly, while a lethal bite from one of the sharks would be a slower and more painful way to die. He preferred not to go either way.

He bumped against the whale, its rubbery texture both soft and unyielding. It was still again and had obviously yet to regain its full strength. He pushed off the animal, eyes open in the salt water, hoping he would see the blurry outline of the rope before he spotted the terrifying mouth of a large shark.

His hand brushed the rope before he saw it. Grabbing it, he kicked to the surface, where he went to work with the knife, sawing through the bundled fibers. The serrated edge made quick work of the hemp, and in fifteen seconds it had cut clean through.

As the main length dropped away, Kurt pushed the shorter section back toward the whale. It slipped through the eyelet, the loop opened, and the rope dropped away.

Kurt turned and swam for the cabin cruiser, propelled by the unspeakable fear that a shark was closing in on him. He reached the boat and scrambled up the ladder in record time. He collapsed onto the deck, thankful to be out of the water with both legs still attached.

“She’s moving,” Joe shouted.

Kurt got to his feet and looked over the side. The whale had begun to raise and lower its tail more regularly. Instead of a defensive response, it was trying to push with a rhythm. Another blast of spray came from the blowhole as it exhaled and took a new breath. With its lungs filled, the animal dipped its large head and dove, seeming to wave goodbye with a final flap of the tail as it vanished beneath the water.

Joe was grinning from ear to ear. “One down, ten more to go.”

Kurt fell back against the transom, exhausted. He looked at the couple who owned the boat. “I’ll take that drink now.”

The man handed him the bottle. “You’ve earned it.”

As Kurt took a swig from the magnum of champagne, Joe radioed the tugboat, and both vessels turned back toward the shore. By now, lights of all different kinds were aiming down at the beach. The stranded animals and the construction equipment were lit up in the glare, the people milling around them looking so much smaller in comparison.

Kurt and Joe would join them and work all through the night. They would save another dozen animals, helping each dolphin and porpoise to clear the bay.

It was a herculean effort that should have felt like success beyond measure, but, exhausted and sore, they received bad news with the rise of the morning sun. More whales had been spotted on the next beach. And still more on the beach beyond that.

Walking the beach to inspect the new arrivals, Kurt and Joe didn’t find any of the animals they’d freed the night before. But the scene made even less sense than the one they’d found earlier.

Along with the whales, they found sharks, seals, and large-bodied fish, including tuna and striper. A dead bull shark and a thin hammerhead looked as if they’d already been picked over by birds. Though, curiously, there was not a seagull in sight. A rare and endangered leatherback turtle, the size of a large coffee table, had crawled onto the rocks to die, its flippers chewed down to the nubs.

Kurt stared in silence.

Joe shook his head. “Something’s not right here,” he said finally. “This isn’t normal.”

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