“ There it is, folks! W-e-i-r-d place. Locals got a name for it; call it Frankenstein’s Castle,” said Spider, a mock grin playing about his bearded jowls. Spider flew small jets as well as helicopters in and out of the Keys and to the Bahamas, daring the Bermuda Triangle to someday swallow him up.
Jessica Coran leaned into the bubble window to stare down over the well-masked, camouflaged-from-the-world buildings belonging to the University of Florida. It was neither easy to see the facility nor simple to determine its size, as all the angles blended in with surrounding flora and white sand. The place could easily be missed, created as it was to be a part of its natural surroundings, and this gave it an illusory effect, both disturbing and interesting at once, for it had a kind of otherworldly, alien appearance to it; a space station in a mangrove field-like the bizarre photographs of modern photographer Jerry Uelsmann.
The grounds all round were neatly kept and cultivated, the building high-tech and eco-conscious, making the awkward yellow pachyderm of a made-over Ryder truck appear out of place, like a brightly painted elephant squatting at a baby shower.
Beside Jessica, Chief Eriq Santiva, anxious for a landing, leaned over to see what the other two were gazing at. He was not a good flyer, and this showed only too grimly now on his jaundiced face.
“ There’s a helipad for their regular deliveries from the university,” explained the pilot through the headphones. Jessica pointed out the pad to Santiva, adding, “There now, see? Not long now.”
Spider piped in with, “Yeah, we’ll be on the ground in a few minutes, Mr. Santa-va, so just remain calm, okay?”
“ San-T-va; the name’s Santiva,” Eriq corrected the burly, gray-bearded pilot, a stand-in for Papa Hemingway. “Sorry, sir.” Jessica stifled a laugh.
As the chopper rounded the research facility, someone at the Ryder truck waved at them. Jessica pointed, but saw that Eriq was preoccupied with his knotted stomach. She watched Eriq swallow hard, struggling to hold back the natural want, recalling just how awful the plane ride to Miami had been. This was the last leg of their shared journey.
“ This better be all that this Dr. Wayne-”
“ Wainwright,” she corrected Eriq.
“- Wainwright, right… better be all that he’s cracked it up to be. That’s all I’ve got to say, and it better have something to do with matters other than fish.”
“ We’ll know that soon enough. And, Chief…”
“ What?”
“ Sharks are not fish.”
“ They look like fish, swim like fish, and it’s a damn sure bet they taste and smell like fish.” He was instantly sorry about conjuring up the aromas. Jessica felt compassion for Santiva. He had, truth be known, gone through hell to get this far.
The helicopter was putting down, sending up a storm cloud of white rain-sand pellets which created a milky veil all around the scientific laboratory buildings.
Jessica saw the two figures at the rear of the yellow truck, each in protective gear but one a full-figured young woman and the other a tall, broad-shouldered young man. It took her a moment to make out the cargo they were unloading onto a conveyor belt-a truckload of dead sharks-that then efficiently lowered the bodies into some subterranean chamber. The young people were sweltering in the tropical heat, as was a bored driver, who-smoking and hacking away-stood nearby. The three of them were far enough from the helicopter that they received only a cool, probably well-wished-for breeze from its noisy rotor blades. The trio at the truck all now halted their lives and watched the chopper’s descent in rapt attention, as if here were the event of the year on Islamorada Key. And, under usual circumstances, it probably would have been.
Santiva was the first to de board the chopper. Jessica thought he was going to kneel and kiss the ground, but instead he stumbled toward the front entry doors to the research facility, anxiously wondering if there might be a lavatory within the laboratory. Jessica grabbed her black medical valise and followed, automatically ducking below the rotor blades, which were still grinding overhead.
The chopper pilot had cut his engines, but the blades continued to circle like unruly children, slow to wind down, until Jessica reached the building, where she and Santiva were met by a stern-eyed woman and a younger man with a toothy but pleasant smile, both in white lab coats. The man’s lab coat was filthy with blood and secretions, giving him the appearance of a butcher, while the woman’s coat was spotless. The man quickly extended a hand to Santiva and introduced himself.
“ Dr. Coran, Chief Santiva? Joel Wainwright. I’m the one who made the call to you people.”
He manfully grabbed Eric’s hand and shook it, then took Jessica’s hand and shook it vigorously as well.
“ Lois, won’t you say hello to our guests?” he asked his associate, but the woman merely frowned like a mother angry with her child.
“ Aron will see to any bags you have, but there truly are no guest facilities here, I’m afraid,” she said, her voice stiff and cold. Neither the woman’ s hand nor her eyes were set on greeting Jessica; instead, she soundlessly ground both Jessica and a cigarette butt she’d snatched from Wainwright’s mouth into the white-sand dust before turning and entering the facility ahead of the others-as if hoping to tidy her room a bit before anyone should see it. Wainwright limply shrugged and pointed the way, ushering the two strangers into the building.
“ What is it precisely you do here?” Jessica asked him. “We cut sharks-open them up, study them intensely, you might say.”
“ So it’s primarily a shark research facility?”
“ Well, it didn’t start out that way, but yes… that’s what it’s become over the years, despite the lip service given other areas of study that go on here.” Entering the facility, Wainwright joked about its being a perfect setting for an X-Files episode since it was home to unspeakable experimentation on eels and other marine life. Inside, much of the light was natural, filtering in through broad overhead skylights. The place otherwise looked and felt like a large factory or hangar.
Dr. Insley stood in the downpour of light from one of the skylights. “Doctor Wainwright enjoys a bit of humor now and again,” she said, finally introducing herself. “I am the head of the institute, Dr. Lois Insley.”
“ Well, let’s have a look at what you’ve got here, Doctors,” said Santiva. “Just as soon, that is, as I can find a place to… to freshen up?” Wainwright showed Santiva to a nearby men’s room while Jessica was left alone with the frost lady, who, still flooded in light, looked made of ice.
After an uncomfortable silence, Insley said, “Dr. Wainwright’s action in calling you all the way here, I fear, will prove foolish.” She seemed to be speaking without moving a muscle.
“ Our understanding is that during your shark dissections here lately, you’ve found more of them to be holding human body parts than is normal. Is that correct, Dr. Insley?”
“ Dr. Wainwright would like nothing better than to be on Good Morning America.” She laughed nervously at her remark.
“ Are you saying he’s exaggerated the situation here, and that his motives are suspect?” Jessica moved about, examining photos hung on the walls, realizing they were in a corridor, still being held at bay. “We’ve come an awful long way for fun and games, Dr. Insley.”
“ You may judge for yourself. Yes, there’s been a curious increase in the number of human body parts we see, but there’s nothing abnormal in that alone. Statistically speaking, we might not see another body part for months on end. It’s just that our sample was so large this year. The tournament was a big success.”