Chapter 17

Consequences

"I wonder," Van Patten confided to his partner, "does that man ever go anywhere without an escort?"        "Come on, Van Patten," LaRue laughed. "Would you expect the nation's security chief to risk getting stranded on the roadside all by his lonesome?"        The two men stood, conspicuous in plain clothes, among uniformed men preparing their boat for launch. The sidearms supplied by Sergeant Roberts fit smoothly beneath their suit coats, dispelling any notion of a pleasure outing. Colonel Vise's entourage was pulling up to the pier, followed closely by Rear Admiral Terrell's car. LaRue stepped up to Vise's car, only to be displaced by Sergeant Roberts who held the door for his superior.        "Gentlemen," Colonel Vise acknowledged them with a nod. The grimace on his face reflected either his pain from struggling out of the vehicle or his disgust. LaRue's last report had not been well received. It seemed that Colonel Vise could not fathom spending more than an hour with their quarry, Adam MacArthur, and still knowing nothing more about his whereabouts or intentions.        "I'll be accompanying Admiral Terrell. You two get your instructions from Sergeant Roberts. Stay alert." Vise clipped his words and forced an even pace toward their vessel.        The 60-foot aluminum boat dwarfed the other craft in the immediate area. It was not new but had been well-outfitted and maintained, sporting fresh paint, a satellite dish and GPS equipment. The military brass retired to the operations room, leaving LaRue, Van Patten, and assorted crew on the open aft deck. Twin diesel engines roared as the boat left the pier. For the first time, Van Patten noticed the small contingent of troops and the black helicopter they were leaving behind. A sudden longing for simpler times working for the FBI overcame him. Van Patten's thoughts turned, seemingly undirected, toward Mother. Where had she gone? Why had this case cost them their position with the Bureau? LaRue punched Van Patten's shoulder, motioning toward the cabin. No time for idle reflection. Sergeant Roberts was ready to meet with them.        David West turned his back on Captain Graves' prying stare and surveyed the odd assortment of small boats and inflatable holding pens tethered together for the afternoon exercises. With eyes half closed against the glare, he could almost imagine the weekend party boats anchored together at Crab Point, in the shallow water where the Bay met the Gulf. West smiled to himself remembering the live band poised on the upper deck of a party boat. He recalled standing waist deep in the water with a drink in one hand, the other arm around his date. Such distraction was short-lived, however, against the inevitable gauntlet ahead of him.        A word from Captain Graves, and the exercises began. West was forced to concentrate on the work. He took direction from Graves who maintained constant radio contact with the admiral's large boat, anchored perhaps 100 yards off their bow. Like a symphony conductor, West followed his well-orchestrated plan, directing the handlers and the dolphins in a systematic display.        As an introduction, West summoned Splash Man, a young male dolphin, using his wireless system to alert the handlers. Splash surfaced close to the clicker, eager for his task.        "This is it, buddy," West handed a well-sealed tube on a ring to the young dolphin and gave the command. Splash Man chattered back at West and took off for the Admiral's boat following another broadband signal on the larger boat's hull. Minutes later, Splash Man had delivered an order of operations for the afternoon. He waited only long enough to be relieved of his burden before returning to West and his reward.        The shuttle activities gave way to retrieving. Various rocket cradles and tools, all equipped with beacons, were dropped to water's bottom. West spoke with a handler over the wireless, summoning another, more experienced team of dolphins. The exercises proceeded perfectly. Individual dolphins were dispatched and each returned with a target item. No matter how deep the dive, there were no worries about the bends. The work was completed in a fraction of the time that human divers would require.        The display shifted to minesweeping. West pushed the teams to work faster, feeling pressured by the fading daylight. A new dolphin team dived deep, using their echolocation to search the sand for dummy mines. Even in the dusk, Colonel Vise and Admiral Terrell could easily detect the surfacing marker buoys released from the mines by the industrious, submerged dolphins.        "Not bad for a bunch of trained fish, right Vise?" the Admiral chuckled.        Colonel Vise nodded, looking slightly impatient with the process. "You've put together a nice show, Admiral Terrell, but I'm wondering what these creatures do at the actual missile sites, and around live ordnance."        "That's coming up next, Sir," Sergeant Roberts chimed in. Irritated by Nicholas LaRue's persistent throat clearing, Roberts turned aside. "What is it, Mr. LaRue?"        "I could sure do with pair of those binoculars, Sergeant Roberts." LaRue smiled.        "Something we should know about?" Roberts asked, shoving a scope into LaRue's hands.        "Can't say," responded LaRue, in his usual unflappable manner.        An explosion drew all eyes to a distant target, now a smoking hull in the deepening gloom. Roberts had become distracted and missed the announcement. Exercises with live ordnance were underway.        "Vasto, away to me!" West shouted to the Russian dolphin, a recently acquired young male. The broadband clicker relayed the command, but West supplemented using vocals and hand signals adapted from herding commands. He strained for a sighting in the water that had turned from ice blue to muddy green in all the activity and changing light. West struggled to ignore the expectant gaze of one of the handlers.        "David, this cannot continue," the Visitor broke West's concentration. Crouched on a nearby holding pen, he continued, "Kozy is losing her focus. The detonations are too much for her."        "Adam, just do your best for her. Please. I can't stop the exercises. Not here. Not now." MacArthur shook his head. He searched his consciousness for an opening with David West and found nothing. Reluctantly, he turned back to the dolphin in his charge.        A second boom accompanied by a flash in the near darkness signaled the success of Vasto's sortie. Another target had been eliminated. David West felt himself sweating in the cooling darkness. Somehow, Vasto's excited return for the fish reward did not relieve West's anxiety. Looking toward Kozy, he caught the Visitor's gaze and found himself heading to the holding pen.        "What's the delay about?" demanded Colonel Vise, turning to Sergeant Roberts.        "I'm not sure, Sir. There should be several more sorties according to our list. Perhaps we've run out of daylight." Roberts was interrupted by Nicholas LaRue.        "Sergeant Roberts, Colonel Vise," LaRue sounded hesitant. "I've been observing one of the handlers over there, talking with the trainer. It's too dark to make him out any more, but I could have sworn he looked like Adam MacArthur."        "Who?" the Admiral broke in. "What's this man talking about, Vise?"        "He's talking about someone we've been after for a long time. The rest, you don't wanna know, Terrell." Vise responded instinctively. "Get me a boat, a dingy, anything. We're gonna pay your dolphin crew a visit." On his way off the deck, Vise added, "Roberts, send for backup. You know the plan."        A small-motorized dinghy was the best craft available with no notice. The startled and outraged Admiral Terrell climbed into the dinghy with Colonel Vise and his two agents, LaRue and Van Patten.        "Now see here, Colonel Vise," he stuttered, "this is my operation. I'm in command."        "Suit yourself, Admiral, but I can't guarantee your safety." Colonel Vise winced from the pain of his still healing injuries, eyes fixed on the distant figures around the dolphin pens. "But since you're coming along," Vise added, "Maybe you can answer this. How do you screen the people you hire for this project?"        Admiral Terrell glared silently at Colonel Vise. The Admiral's portly figure and difficulty staying upright in the lurching boat suggested he'd been accustomed to sailing a desk. At last he answered, "We use civilian contractors for the training. That's standard, Colonel Vise. As for the handlers, our trainer, David West, is responsible for them."        The overloaded dinghy made its slow, lumbering journey to the dolphin pens. The occupants fell into an uneasy silence. Craig Van Patten and Nicholas LaRue went through the motions of checking their side arms. In the close quarters of the tiny boat, Van Patten's growing reluctance to complete this mission went unspoken.        "If you send Kozy out now, you will lose her, David." The Visitor paused. He projected his most patient demeanor, but his eyes followed the progress of the approaching dinghy.        "This isn't a simple choice, especially not today with these observers. The exercises will have to go as planned. With her partner gone, Kozy is the only one capable of completing the program." David West appeared paralyzed by his indecision. "Can you think of something? I don't know what to do." He repeatedly wiped his beard and glasses, oblivious to the approaching craft.        "I won't be with you much longer. Just remember that Kozy and her kind are key to understanding the oceans you love, David. If you give Kozy the respect she deserves, you'll make the correct decision when the time comes." MacArthur turned away and lured Kozy within his reach using the bait. Placing his hands along side her head, a bright glow of light appeared.        "Get away from that animal!" shouted Colonel Vise, before he'd even negotiated the move out of his boat. "Turn around, slowly."        "In a moment, Colonel Vise," the Visitor's strained voice replied but his eyes remained closed in concentration.        The command platform sunk low in the water, crowded with its added occupants. Water seeped through the wooden slats as Van Patten, LaRue, and finally Admiral Terrell clamored out of their tiny craft. LaRue pulled the strangely immobilized David West away from MacArthur's precarious position on the edge of Kozy's holding pen.        "MacArthur!" Vise shouted again. Without looking back, Colonel Vise stretched his hand behind him, ordering, "Van Patten, give me your gun."        "Wait a minute, Colonel Vise." Van Patten felt overcome with the strangeness of the situation. Years of conditioning could not override his reluctance to act. "There's no threat here. Where's he gonna go?"        A startled Nicholas LaRue, squinting in disbelief at his partner, handed his weapon to Colonel Vise. The distant sound of approaching rotor blades and the slap of water against the platform were the only sounds in the brief silence that followed.        "Turn around and stand up!" Vise bellowed, this time aiming the gun directly at the Visitor.        MacArthur released Kozy at last, weakened from his contact with her. "I'm trying, Colonel." He made an effort to rise but managed only an unsteady position on his knees, still at the very edge of the pen.        "Time's up. No more chances." Colonel Vise released the safety and pulled back the hammer, aiming for his target's chest. Something in the situation evoked Vise's dream from the previous night. Vise felt fear, a familiar emotion, but it was not his own. Avoiding eye contact with MacArthur, the Colonel fired, defiantly. An instant later, Vise was crushed against the floating platform beneath David West.        "No, Kozy!" West screamed. He rose and leaped to the side of the holding pen. He caught sight of the Visitor who had fallen backwards into the water. A moment later, MacArthur released the gate. He was barely visible against the body of the large dolphin. Holding her dorsal fin, MacArthur followed Kozyrev into the open water and disappeared with her as she dived.        "Are you crazy?" Admiral Terrell angrily pushed his way forward on the platform. "Colonel Vise, maybe that man is expendable, but our dolphins and personnel are not."        "You don't know what the stakes are, Admiral." Panting, Vise sat up and scanned the surface of the water for a sign of Adam MacArthur. "I'm gonna get this man. None of us can rest easy until we do. If I have to pay the bill for a few dead fish, then so be it."        "Admiral Terrell, sir," Captain Graves looked up from his radio. "The crew in that chopper are requesting orders from Colonel Vise." The helicopter hovered nearby, its searchlight engaged in the darkness.        "These exercises are at an end." The Admiral handed the radio to Colonel Vise. "Call them off, Vise. We're taking you and your henchmen back to shore."        Colonel Vise held the radio, .shtmling. The disembodied fear had disappeared. Instead, Vise found himself fighting for a breath. He did not pause to reflect on these odd occurrences. .shtmling, he relayed his orders into the microphone, "Search for a dolphin fin. That'll be our man. Fire at will." Vise tried one last time to catch his breath and collapsed, unconscious on the deck.        Momentarily forgotten, David West stood on the edge of the now empty holding pen. He listened in horror to Colonel Vise's order. The thought of his Kozyrev becoming a lone target for the sharp shooters in that hovering helicopter eclipsed all other thoughts and feelings. He leaped swiftly from pen to pen releasing the gates. Calling and gesturing, he sent every dolphin out into the open water before Van Patten and LaRue could overtake him. Dorsal fins popped up randomly across the water as the dolphins surfaced for air.        Colonel Vise's air support looked down on the melee of fins in confusion. They called for confirmation of their orders but received no response. The radio was tied up in frantic communication with the Admiral's boat and ship to shore. Colonel Vise's condition, deemed a medical emergency, changed the focus of the entire crew.        Somewhere among the dolphins was Kozyrev with the Visitor in tow. Conserving energy, MacArthur concentrated on holding the dorsal fin and slowing body functions, breathing when Kozy surfaced. In his effort to synchronize with the large dolphin, MacArthur sensed the mind of this being. On some level between thought and feeling, communication emerged. Kozyrev broadcast to her pod. The message was transmitted through the water from one dolphin to the next, spreading like ripples across the bay and beyond. The freed dolphins scattered, unchallenged, into the bay.