Chapter 52
The sun had crested the horizon by the time I got back to the Avventura. I peeled out of my clothes and slipped into a warm bed with Ariel. I could get used to this kind of thing.
She stirred. In a soft, sleepy whisper, she said, “Is everything okay?”
“It is now.”
Her dreamy eyes widened when she saw my face. “What happened?”
“A suspect got stupid.”
She made a sad face and gently kissed my bruised cheek and split lip. Ariel snuggled close, and I dozed off for a few hours of shut-eye.
The sheriff called and put a damper on any plans I had about sleeping in.
"There are still a bunch of morons out there hunting that shark," Daniels said.
"Apparently, some college kids were out on a center console, chumming the water when that thing attacked and capsized the boat.
Needless to say, it didn't turn out too well for them.”
I cringed.
"You're able to track that thing, aren't you?”
"Yep.”
"We need to devise a plan to capture it, sedate it, and haul it back to the Oceanographic Institute or some other facility that can handle it.”
"I'll call Jay and see if he's got a pen large enough." I took a deep breath. “That's not going to be an easy task. Words can't convey the size or strength of that thing. I don't even know if a sedative would be effective.”
"Shoot it with enough tranquilizer, anything will go down."
I ended the call and dialed Jay.
"How are you feeling?"
"I feel good,” I said, leaving out the part that I’d taken a shot to the head.
"That's good to hear."
"Listen, I've got a crazy idea." I told him the plan.
"You want to do what!?"
"I know it sounds crazy."
"No. It doesn't sound crazy at all. It sounds absolutely batshit insane. Do you know what that would actually take?”
"I figure you're about to tell me.”
"I wish you would have gotten footage of that thing.”
"Me too."
"How big is it?”
I told him.
"Judging by the size of the tooth we found, that sounds about right.” Jay took a deep breath, then exhaled.
"Well, you can't just shoot the damn thing with a tranquilizer dart like it's an elephant.
You're going to need a harpoon to penetrate deep into the muscle and reach the bloodstream.
A custom carbon fiber pole spear. A cocktail of midazolam, medetomidine, and ketamine ought to do the trick.
250cc might provide enough sedation. You could run a chum line and spear it around the dorsal fin when it comes to the surface.
" Then he added, "I don't think you want to get back in the water with that thing. "
"No, not anytime soon.”
"You’re not getting back in the water for at least another day, if you value your health."
"What then?”
"Well, you’re going to need a few brave divers to get in the water with that thing and run a sling underneath, then use lift bags.
You're going to need a heavy lift vessel to hoist that monster out of the water and load it onto the back of a semisubmersible transport barge. The barge deck runs a few meters under the surface, keeping movement flowing through the shark’s gills while you ship it back to the Oceanographic Institute.
I’ve got a pen large enough to keep it, but it's going to be tight.” A little excitement seeped into Jay's voice.
"Would be a fascinating creature to study. "
"So, it's doable?”
"Possibly. I give it a 50-50 chance the shark survives. We’re talking about major shock and trauma to the system.
If it survives capture and transport, it’s still likely to die in captivity.
Great whites are notoriously hard to keep alive in a tank.
It’s easier when they are young and feeding off fish, but as they transition to mammals, it gets exponentially more difficult.
That’s probably why they released this thing.
I’m sure there were other attempts, but they probably all died in captivity. ”
I didn't exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings about the shark. But it was just living according to its nature.
"There's another problem,” Jay said.
"What's that?"
"Who's funding this operation? You're probably looking at a million-dollar rental fee on the heavy transport barge, plus the heavy-lift vessel, crew, insurance, etc. It's not going to be a cheap affair."
I knew the county didn't have the budget for that kind of thing.
"I'll talk to the sheriff and see what can be done. With as many lives as this thing has taken, perhaps we can get a company to donate the services in exchange for a little publicity. This will be the biggest story on the planet."
"You might be right about that.”
"Thank you. I'll be in touch."
"I'll be here," Jay said. "In the meantime, take care of yourself. Don't push it.”
I didn't have the heart to tell him.
When I ended the call, Ariel said, “Are you really thinking about capturing that thing?”
I nodded.
“I want to be there when you do it.”
I gave her a look.
“Don’t even think about telling me it’s too dangerous.”
I wasn’t about to tell her that. There was no point.
I pulled myself out of bed, showered, dressed, then headed down to the galley. Jack had made it back to the boat and was already up and had fixed breakfast.
We dished up plates and ate on the sky deck. I caught Jack up to speed on the latest events.
"You went over to Stingray Bay last night by yourself?" he said, mildly annoyed. "You should have let me know. Never go into a situation like that without backup.”
"I know, I know. It was a stupid move. I was just going to ask him some questions.”
"You know better than that.”
I had to admit, I probably still wasn't firing on all cylinders after our brush with the bends. At least, that's the excuse I told myself.
“I figured you were busy.”
He frowned at me.
After breakfast, Ariel gathered her belongings and took her boat back to the marina at the Coronado. The last few days had been fun, but she had a life and obligations to get back to, and so did I. She made me promise to let her know the minute we planned to do anything regarding the shark.
It was time to make some headway on the case.
I called Isabella and had her track Marguerite Talbot’s cell phone. With a few taps of the keys, she told me Mark’s assistant was at a hot yoga class. At least, that's where her cell phone was at the moment.
JD and I left the boat, hopped into the Porsche, and drove to the yoga studio.
It wasn’t a bad spot to visit, especially on the weekend.
We stepped into the steamy session and watched the patrons contort themselves into all kinds of mesmerizing positions.
Tight leggings, flat midriffs, and toned bodies.
Sports bras pushed ample endowments together, and the heat slicked skin with sweat.
It was a compelling argument for getting a membership and routinely attending class.
At over 100°, it didn't take long to break a sweat. But some of these ladies could induce sweating even without the heat turned up.
I'm sure Marguerite was a great assistant. I'm sure Mark Weaver hired her for a number of reasons other than the way she looked in yoga pants. But that didn't hurt.
At the end of class, the patrons gathered their mats, rolled them up, and replaced them in the corner of the room. Marguerite toweled off and chatted with friends for a moment as the other patrons filtered out of the yoga studio.
JD and I made our approach.
I flashed my badge as a reminder. "I hate to interrupt.”
A sudden wave of concern filled the eyes of her companions. It wasn't every day that cops approached someone in the yoga studio to question them about multiple deaths.
"You have a minute?" I asked. "We just have a few questions."
Marguerite looked a little flustered. She told her friends she'd catch up with them later, then said to us, "Sure. What's going on?"
"I don't know if you heard the latest, but there was another shark attack. A few college students are dead.”
Her face tensed with empathy. "That's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that. How can I help?”
"I'm glad you asked.”