St. John's

Dave woke early. It was only 5:45 AM. He turned over and attempted to return to his dreams. As he recalled, they were dreams of white beaches, palm trees, and Claire. The last detail he remembered was Claire in her bikini, running from the water to join him under the palm tree. The water was a clear, turquoise green, the sun bright, the sky a magnificent blue with puffy white clouds, and Claire, her slim body tanned perfectly filling her red and white flowered bikini. He tried to recapture the dream. But all that appeared in his mind was a whale. A very large whale!

Turning onto his back he looked at the ceiling. As he lay there motionless, although he couldn't hear it, something inside of him told him it was raining out. He rolled to his left side, peeked through the curtains covering the window next to his bed and in the still lit streetlights he could see a light, steady drizzle. He resigned himself to being awake, removed the covers, showered, and dressed. Pulling his favorite sweatshirt over his head, and looked in the mirror to admire the picture of his boat, Kwoletee' Tyme, which had been photographically reproduced on the front. He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out his black baseball cap with a scuba diver embossed on the front. Placing it on his head, he grabbed his rain gear and exited the room.

Reaching the lobby he saw it was only 6:15 AM, so he decided to take a walk. At this early hour, the streets of St. John's were still empty. Walking down Military Road to the Catholic Basilica, he turned to look at the older section of the town. Yesterday he could see the whole harbor and the houses on the other side. Today, in the drizzle and fog, not only could he not even see the harbor, he could only see about 200 feet. He marked a spot on the street that was his furthest point of visibility and began walking it off. Ninety-eight steps at about three feet per step he thought to himself, makes visibility a little under 300 feet. Then he reasoned this would decrease to less than 200 feet once out on the water where he was going.

He continued to walk around the town lost in his thoughts about Claire, talking to whales, the mission he was about to undertake, the future. He accidentally glanced at his watch. Surprised that it was almost 7:30, he headed back to the hotel. Entering the dining room, he spotted Claire and the Professor sitting at a table near the far window. Slipping off his rain slicker and cap, he hung them on the coat tree near the entrance and walked to their table. Sliding in next to Claire, they all exchanged greetings and she asked him where he had been. Dave explained that he couldn't sleep so he had gone for a walk.

Professor Edwards asked, "How bad is the visibility?"

"About 300 feet," replied Dave.

The Professor took a sip of coffee, then looking at Dave asked, "What time are we leaving?"

Dave looked at him somewhat bewildered and replied, "The helicopter can't get in to airlift us out."

"I know that," replied Edwards, "I also know that you believe that our whale will be here later today. Oh, by the way, I agree with that theory. I also believe I know a little about you. So I ask myself would a little rain and fog keep you from the whale? I keep coming up with the same answer. No! So I repeat, what time are we leaving?"

Dave looked at the Professor, then at Claire who was smiling............"11:00," he replied.

"What arrangements have you made?" asked the Professor.

"Yesterday, I arranged to have the boat moved to the harbor by a couple of fishermen. I ordered some food, two additional 10 gallon gas tanks, and bought two waterproof sleeping bags. The same fishermen who are moving the boat will guide us out of the harbor. In my discussion with them they showed me on the chart where the largest concentration of whales can usually be found and I programmed those coordinates into both my portable Global Positioning System (GPS), and the one installed in the boat. [Note: the GPS is a system that reads signals from 24 satellites in orbit around the earth. Using angular coordination to these signals, the system can locate your position on the earth's surface to within several feet. New hi tech GPS units are only slightly larger than a pack of cigarettes.]

"Sounds to me like you weren't going to tell us," Claire added.

"No, I was, believe me, I was. I just didn't know when or how," Dave responded. "My big concern is that we don't tell Webster because he can't permit us freelancing on this operation."

Professor Edwards nodded his concurrence, then said, "Let me handle Jack."

"That's a deal," replied Dave, "But what are you going to tell him?"

"There's an old saying Dave, it's easier to ask forgiveness, than it is to get permission, so I'm not going to tell him anything. I'll go the forgiveness route next time I see him."

They grinned.

Dave looked at the two of them and in a very somber tone said, "Do you both realize that the operation as planned, supported by rescue helicopters, was considered dangerous? If we go out on our own to try to find this whale that has already killed two people and is responsible for starting attacks that have killed many more, the danger level goes up exponentially." They each made eye contact, yet still agreed to go through with it.

The plan was completed over breakfast. Dave would handle the transport and launching of the inflatable with the fisherman. Claire would continue checking the equipment to assure there were no glitches and the Professor would handle the logistics of getting the food, gas, and clothing to the boat. They would all meet back at the hangar for the conference call with Webster and Collins at 10:00 AM.

The conference call took place right on time. The big topic of discussion was the weather along the coast in the Western Atlantic. Search operations were continuing under clear skies 200 miles off the coast. But inside the 200 mile line, fog shrouded the water. Some ships were still attempting to locate whales using hi-tech listening gear, but without aircraft their effectiveness was almost zero.

Admiral Collins explained that the whale off Prestwick was no longer a target and they were now looking at an animal a little further north. The Admiral was unable to answer any questions since all the details were still sketchy. But LaFleur himself, who had been up there to check out the first whale, was again personally participating in the search for the new target.

McGovern informed the group that a P-3 Orion search aircraft went down north of Iceland, but the crew had been rescued by a ship that had been in the immediate area. Other than that, the operation was continuing.

Nearing the end of the conference call, Professor Edwards asked McGovern to lay out a plan for their boat to be airlifted to Halifax, the next area where they would try to intercept this whale should the weather not clear within the next 48 hours. McGovern agreed.

There was something about the way the Professor made that request which bothered Webster. He didn't know why, it was a logical request, but something bothered him. He remained silent.

The conference call ended with the group agreeing to another call at 1600 hours.

As they hung up, Dave looked at the Professor and they slapped hands. "Good job," Dave said. It was 10:30, so they started to collect their things to head down to the harbor. The phone rang. They looked at each other.

The Professor, shrugging his shoulders, lifted the receiver on the third ring and said, "Professor Edwards here."

"George, this is Jack," came the reply.

The Professor was surprised and he motioned to Dave and Claire, carefully mouthing the words Jack Webster. "Yes Jack, what's up?" he replied.

At first the conversation was all small talk. Then Jack asked, "Halifax. Do you really think that's the next point of intercept?"

"Sure," replied the Professor, "but we're still hoping the weather clears here."

Webster hesitated, then got straight to the point, "George, I may be off base, but I just want to tell you that I don't want any heroics. Nobody moves without my say so and the military's support. Do I make myself clear?"

The Professor hesitated just for a second, then said, "I don't know what you're talking about. Of course we know that. What's gotten into you?"

"I just want to make sure you understand what I'm saying; nobody goes out on the ocean chasing whales without my say-so. Clear!"

"Clear as a bell." The conversation ended and the Professor hung up.

"What did he want?" asked Claire.

"He told me to treat you two to lunch," replied the Professor, "Now, let's get going. As he walked out of the room, he reached towards the phone and removed the receiver from the cradle. They would not be there for the 1600 phone call.

Back on the Cape, Webster stood over the phone he had just hung up. He also sensed they wouldn't be there for the conference call.

The three of them stepped from the dock into the inflatable. All dressed in yellow slickers and hats, they looked like three large robust bananas moving around the boat. The supplies were loaded and placed in plastic bags or containers and the small lobster boat in front of them started away from the dock. Dave moved the throttle forward and the inflatable followed its guide toward the harbor mouth. It took about 20 minutes to reach the open sea, which they could instantly detect by the swells under the boat. The lobster boat which had guided them out of the harbor stopped and the man at the stern signaled them to approach. As they did he said they were clear of land, and that the lobster boat would turn around. Dave yelled over, "Thank you, and don't forget tomorrow morning to tell the authorities where we went." He waved as the pretty little green and white boat turned and disappeared into the fog.

Dave picked up his GPS, hit the GOTO key and keyed in the code for the imaginary spot they were headed WH01. The GPS performed its geometric calculations and ten seconds later the small screen showed the compass course and distance to the target. Dave looked at the Professor and Claire and asked "Are you sure you want to do this?" Both answered yes. Dave moved the throttle on the small boat and said, "Let’s go meet your intellectual mutant Professor." The boat moved out into the fog.

Webster instinctively knew from the continually busy signal, that he had three wayward scientists. He also knew, that Dave was most likely correct and their mammoth whale was off of St. John's. He called the Admiral.

"What the fuck do you mean, they're out chasing the whale?" shouted the Admiral. "Don't you fucking scientists ever follow orders?" Jack didn't answer, he was as mad as the Admiral, but he knew that the whale was there and had to be confronted.

"Kelly. Get me Whitehead," he shouted. "Those fuckers are in charge of the media. We'll let them tell the news boys that three asshole scientists decided to save the world all by their fuckin' selves."

Webster wondered if the military gave lessons in the use of the word fuck. He was about to say something when the Admiral addressed him, "And I suppose you knew nothing about this fuckin' plan, right Webster."

Jack remained silent, the question didn't need an answer. He now felt like using the word 'fuck'. But he didn't. "McGovern, get me a plan for an air search of the area," ordered the Admiral, "I want it started as soon as the first ray of sun comes through those clouds. And get me a meteorological report, not one of those 50/50 fuckers' with a chance for this and a chance for that. I want to fuckin' know what time, to the minute, the fog will lift. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," replied McGovern.

Kelly interrupted the Admiral, "Whitehead on the phone."

The Admiral grabbed the other line and said, "Henry, I hate to have to tell you this but I have three wayward scientists on my hands." He went on to explain what he thought was taking place. The two men discussed the alternatives and on Collins suggestion, decided that for the time being they would make no mention to the press, waiting to see what the weather would bring tomorrow. Whitehead suggested they touch base in the morning.

Collins picked up the line on which Jack had been put on hold. He explained the decision they had made not to notify the press. Jack concurred with the decision. The obviously upset Admiral then added, "I am going to fuckin' hold you personally responsible for the government equipment that those fools are using. If one fuckin' piece of equipment is damaged or lost, you fuckers are going to pay through the nose.

Jack snapped. "Listen here Admiral," he started, "let me fucking remind you that every piece of equipment they have is privately purchased by the laboratory. And those brave scientists are out there risking their lives because after all the fucking money you assholes in the military spend on building equipment, you fuckers are afraid to fly in a little fog! Now hear this and hear it now, you'd better get those fucking helicopters up to St. John's by tomorrow morning or I'll see to it that the American public knows how fucking useless that equipment really is," and he slammed down the phone.

The Admiral listened to the buzz of the dial tone. How he hated scientists ! He turned and yelled, "Kelly!"

Dave looked at his watch; it was 2:30 and they had been traveling about two hours. The GPS, which had been guiding them, indicated they were one mile from the latitude and longitude coordinates he had programmed into it. He throttled back to slow the boat. The fog never lifted. The density so darkened the space around them, it made it feel almost like night, and yet it was the middle of the afternoon. As he slowed the boat, he told Claire to initiate the computer so it would start sending out a recognition signal. They had decided to use the same signal that they had used on KT. Kind of a good luck signal, Claire had said. Looking at the Professor, Dave commented, "I would hate to get sunk by a pod of whales before we met old, what do they call him, BIG SLEUTH. They all laughed.

The GPS suddenly sounded, and the light indicating they had arrived at the designated spot, illuminated. Dave throttled back to neutral, and as the engine slowed to idle, he waited a few minutes, then turned it off.

The sudden silence was deafening. Floating in fog 25 miles out on the ocean in an open 20-foot boat, where your world was less than 500 feet in a circle around you, gave them all an eerie feeling. As the silence took hold, they heard the transducer under the boat sounding its signal. Dave looked at the Professor who, he could tell, was studying the signal, and said, "Don't worry, you will get used to it. By tomorrow you won't even know it’s on."

The Professor responded, "I surely doubt that."

Since they were all wet from traveling against the moisture-laden air, Dave reached into a sealed bag and drew out two large towels. Handing them to Claire and the Professor, he suggested they at least wipe off their faces and dry their necks. He also took a large, two-gallon thermos from under the console and poured them each a cup of hot broth. "This should help keep out the chill," he said.

Sitting on the inflatable chambers, they each enjoyed the broth in silence. As each cup was emptied, he filled it again.

The computer beeped. Claire and Dave, familiar with the implications, moved to view the screen. The message said:

school of pilot whales in area, no return message received

To assure the computer didn't respond, Claire had disabled the answering mode by hitting the "Ctrl P". This permitted all identification functions to work but assured that answers were not initiated without their command.

"Wow, auto identification," said the Professor, "I'm impressed."

Claire then said, "You ain't seen nothing yet." Claire turned to the Professor and explained that the identification signal they were generating was basically in what you would call Humpback language. He nodded that he recognized it.

Claire, holding the shift key down, typed in, "Monitor".

Dave added, "The Pilot Whales are apparently not interested in mixing today, so they are ignoring us. Now if we wanted to attract them, the computer could emit our supposed ID signal in their language and we could call them over."

They sat back and started the waiting game. The light drizzle continued. Protected from the elements by the rain slickers and warm clothing beneath them, the chill had yet to penetrate them. Dave moved to the storage container in the bow and removed three life preservers. Handing one to Claire and the Professor, Dave started to put his on. Buckling it around his torso, he said, "I suggest we wear these." Neither of them argued and they proceeded to help each other put the life preservers on and adjust the straps.

"Let's go over what we are going to do when we encounter the whale," suggested Claire.

"Good idea," replied the Professor. Dave concurred and they started a simple review of what they expected.

"As we know from our experience, we will hear the whale long before we will be able to see him, even if the weather is clear. Under these conditions," and he looked around the boat and stared into the dense fog, "I'm not sure when we will even see him approach, if at all. But when we hear him, it's important that our transmissions remain rapid and relatively low volume." He turned and looked at Claire.

"I have programmed the computer with all the current information we know. As before, it will tell us what the whales are saying and doing. Only this time after interpreting the communications it will tell us what response it is going to automatically transmit. We will have five seconds to hit any key on the keypad if we don't want that response transmitted. Although I suspect we will not have the time, I have added a much more complex artificial intelligence program that will further aid in our understanding of the communications," and she pointed to the small plastic box that the laptop was sitting on.

"Other than that, Professor," Dave said, "we are winging it!"

"You're probably partially right," responded Claire. "But remember, compared to our first trip off the Cape, we are much better prepared. Today we know about 30 key sounds or phrases, compared to the eight we knew when we started. We know the meaning of speed and volume in whale communication and with the new artificial intelligence module attached to the computer," and she again pointed to the gray plastic case the laptop was sitting on, "we should be able to make significant strides as we communicate with our mammoth friend."

Dave looked at Claire, looked at the Professor and then returned his eyes to Claire. "I hope you're right, Claire, I only wish we had some more time to try the equipment before we meet up with this pissed off leviathan."

"I agree with Claire," injected the Professor, "I think we're a little more prepared than winging it, but quite frankly I feel like I'm simply an observer, a third wheel in this whole operation."

"I don't," responded Dave. "I feel comfortable with you on board to help us make our decisions on how to respond and what actions to take."

"Me, too," added Claire.

The trio fell silent, each in their own thoughts, and they waited. By 6:00 PM, the decreasing sun and the dense fog made it as dark as midnight. Dave had already lit the Coleman lantern and they were having more of the warm broth and pre-made sandwiches. Their world had gotten even smaller with the onset of night.

Jack Webster was concerned about the three of them out searching for the whale without the protection of support should they need it. In a conference call with LaFleur earlier, the two men had discussed the facts they knew about the whale and LaFleur agreed that Dave's supposition was confirmed by the details given by the Canadian pilot, whose experience they considered made him an expert observer. The whale was almost certainly going to pass along the coast of St. John's. LaFleur even confided in Jack that he believed that further searching in the eastern Atlantic was useless, but he had decided not to tell Admiral Whitehead, at least not yet.

Dave being correct did little to make Jack feel better. It actually made him worry a lot more. Not knowing what was going on out there was nerve-racking. The two men discussed the probability of the communications working, but since neither had ever seen it in operation, they could only guess as to its effectiveness. The longer they talked, the more concerned Jack had become, so he thanked LaFleur and ended the call.

Meanwhile in Washington, Admiral Collins was having a terrible day. His abruptly terminated phone call with Webster sent him into a tirade that had his aide Kelly going crazy. Faster than he could accomplish a task, the Admiral was issuing new instructions. He had never seen the Admiral this upset. Even when he hadn't gotten the assignment he so desperately wanted in the Persian Gulf. While Kelly was waiting to be connected to the maritime police in Newfoundland, he listened to the Admiral's phone conversation with the chief meteorologist from the National Weather Service.

"Maybe I'm not making myself clear," exclaimed Collins into the phone. "But I have three fucking asshole scientists, sitting in a little rubber boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Your fucking fog is preventing my ships and helicopters from finding them. I want to know what time tomorrow that fog will dissipate. Do you understand? Check those weather computers of yours and get back to me within the hour." Then, like Webster had done to him only a short time before, the Admiral slammed the phone onto the receiver and stormed out of the room.

When he returned, Kelly was just finishing his call. As he hung up, the Admiral asked, "What did they learn?"

"They know the names of the two lobstermen who guided the boat out of the harbor. They were trying to track them down to find out what they might know about their destination. It appears the two brothers live on a small island without phone service so they were sending a launch to the island."

"Good, now we're getting somewhere," replied the Admiral. "What about the helicopter?"

"Still grounded, visibility is less then 200 feet and the ceiling is zero. It would be suicide to attempt to fly in that weather," answered Kelly.

The Admiral paced around the room.

It was approaching 9:00 PM and the dampness was beginning to set in. Dave again went into the waterproof storage case and pulled out a plastic bag. He carefully opened it and removed six velour pouches. The Professor and Claire watched in the light of the lantern.

"Pocket warmers," Dave said, as he took them out of their pouches and started to light them with the waterproof matches he had brought with him. Handing two to Claire and two to the Professor, the open flames made an eerie glow in the dense fog. When the element glowed bright red, the flame was extinguished and following Dave's lead, they put the metal covers back on and returned the warmers to their pouches. Dave unrolled the two waterproof sleeping bags he had purchased and told the Professor and Claire to get in.

After they had, Dave said, "Now put the warmers inside the bags with you and they should help keep you warm and dry."

"What about you?," asked Claire. "Well, I have the economy version," and he took out a small blue plastic tarpaulin and carefully wrapped himself up in it. "We'll take two hour watches," he said. "I'll go first, then Claire you can follow me and then the Professor. We will keep that rotation up all night. That way we will all get at least some sleep." They agreed and began what was an attempt to put some regiment into the night. Both Claire and the Professor curled up in their sleeping bags, pulling the tops over their heads and closed their eyes.

The boat drifted silently in the calm sea. Dave tried to figure where the whales were now and what they were doing. He realized he hadn't looked at the pilot books to see which direction the current was taking them. This bothered him. It was something he should have done. He thought to himself, tomorrow I'll figure it out with the GPS. He turned to scan around the boat. Suddenly the computer beeped. They all raised their heads.

Looking at the screen it read:

intermittent sound of four whales detected

sounds appear very passive, little activity

appears they are resting or sleeping

Claire now standing at the console, typed in, "identify Rtn":

humpback

They looked at each other.

The Professor was the first to speak. "Is this where someone is supposed to yell bingo?" Any other time that would have been funny. But in this all encompassing darkness.......…..no one laughed.

Positioning herself to type a command, she looked at Dave and asked, "What do you want to do?"

He looked at her and then the Professor, who responded with, "If their resting, they're not going anywhere."

Agreeing with him, Dave asked Claire, "Can you have the computer monitor the sound and tell us if it gets weaker?"

She thought for a moment, then answered, "Yes". Placing her fingers on the keys she typed:

monitor sound, current level 5. Scale (+) for stronger, (-) for weaker. Alarm set for 4,

Ctrl * K Rtn.

After Claire completed the input, Dave said, "That's better, I don't think we should attempt to contact them in this darkness unless, of course, the sound starts getting very weak. Otherwise I would like to wait till morning when the light will give us at least a slim chance of seeing them." They all agreed.

"I also suggest so as not to disturb them, we stop sounding our signal," added the Professor. Nodding his concurrence, Dave agreed that was a good idea, and Claire typed the command on the keyboard. They were now in for a longer night than earlier expected. At Dave's suggestion, they climbed back into their cocoons and attempted to get some rest.

Claire lay flat on the floor in the inflatable, her head propped up on her life jacket as a pillow. The Professor, his body inside the sleeping bag up to his armpits, sat next to her leaning against the port side of the hull. Using his life jacket propped under the small of his back for support, he leaned his head against the firm air chamber.

Dave, on watch, sat on the bench seat behind the console. Quietly he had turned the GPS on. Studying the latitude - longitude numbers, he was trying to figure out which way they were drifting.

It was almost 2300 hours and the Admiral was not happy that he was still in the Pentagon conference room. The next few minutes were not going to make his night any better. The conference call with Webster was being connected. It had been nearly 10 hours since Webster had hung up on him. The Admiral, not very fond of scientists to begin with, surely was not changing his opinion based on this operation.

Sitting next to him with the phone to his ear, Kelly looked at the Admiral and said, "He's on," and depressed the conference phone button returning the receiver to the cradle.

He hesitated for a second and then spoke into the speaker, "Hello, Jack."

"Good Evening, Admiral," replied Webster.

"Well I'm not sure evening is appropriate, for in less than 60 minutes we could say good morning," he replied.

"Yes you're right," answered Webster. Listening to these two men, Kelly could see this was going to be a cool conversation.

The Admiral explained that they had tracked down two lobstermen who had guided the three scientists out of St. John's harbor. He further explained that the same two men had given Dave the coordinates of the location off shore where migrating whales could usually be encountered this time of year. He now believed they knew where the three scientists were going.

Webster asked, "Can we dispatch ships to them?"

The Admiral said he had already done that. "But, we are going to be very limited in how fast we can get there because of the fog," he explained. "We are very concerned about being able to pick that small boat up on radar, so we must proceed very slowly so we don't accidentally miss them or, worse then that, hit them."

He waited a minute and added, "There will be three vessels on site by daybreak tomorrow."

"That's great, Justin," replied Webster, "What about aircraft?" he asked.

"We're still unable to launch anything in that area, but we are positioned to have everything flyable in the air as soon as the fog dissipates, which by the way is now expected to be early tomorrow," answered the Admiral.

There was a long pause, and Jack said, "Justin,... I want to apologize for my outbreak earlier. It's just, well, I've known Edwards for many years, and well....."

The Admiral interrupted, "No need to apologize," he said, "we're all a little edgy. Even I've been rough on my staff for the last couple of hours. Just get some rest and we'll find those friends of yours in the morning."

"Thanks, Justin. Next time I'm in Washington, the drinks are on me."

"Okay," replied the Admiral, "That's an offer I can't refuse. I'll speak to you tomorrow. Good night."

Webster said, "Good night," and the phone went silent.

The Admiral looked up at Kelly. There was a pause and he said, "Please remind me to call that guy at the NWS tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," replied Kelly, showing an ever-so-slight grin.