He had managed to get most of the research team out, keeping them inside the decompression chamber before quietly getting them onto the Indian mainland so they could disappear with their suitcases stuffed full of hundred dollar bills. He even pocketed a few thick wads when one of the scientists accidentally left behind an overnight bag in his haste to get out of there.
Kazimir was getting desperate. The authorities were going after him and he needed men he could trust, ones who could keep things quiet while covering up all the shady things he was knee-deep in. Liger sensed this opportunity and quickly made a suggestion. If Kazimir would put him wholly in charge of suppressing Project Typhon, then he would do what others would be unwilling to handle, as long as he got adequate compensation for it, of course.
With no one else to turn to, the embattled billionaire gave him the green light. Do what you need to do. You’ll be a very rich man by the end of all this if you succeed.
Liger smiled faintly to himself as the plane began its descent. Of course that bastard knows that if I fail, I’ll go down in flames with him. But I won’t fail, not even after this latest cock-up.
His team had almost succeeded. They were just about to secure the submerged holding tank near the bottom of the lab when a freak storm hit, screwing up the boat’s stability on the ocean surface, and causing the attached diving bell to unexpectedly collide with the side of the undersea structure, partially breaching it.
That’s when the damned creature got loose, he recalled. We were so close, and Mother Nature had to mess it all up. Damn it all to hell!
The Cessna made an almost gliding descent as the plane’s slender pontoons began skidding on the water’s surface. Liger gritted his teeth as the aircraft quickly began to slow down before the propeller started revving up again, in order to get closer to the boat anchored a short distance away.
Liger adjusted his aviator sunglasses as the seaplane he was in made its way closer to the nearby ship. First built by a British company in the late seventies as a commercial diving support vessel, the Queequeg was snapped up by the Royal New Zealand Navy and put to work for the next three decades before her eventual decommissioning a few years ago. Morgenstern Oceanic quickly purchased the vessel before she could be scrapped, and soon brought the Queequeg back into operational condition for clandestine use.
With the seaplane now close enough, the pilot of the Cessna turned off the engine as Liger saw a rubber dinghy being lowered from the Queequeg’s side in order to reach them. He had been working in that very boat for almost two years now, and a part of him was already sick of having another go at it, but the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow kept spurring him on.
Unbuckling himself from the co-pilot’s chair, Liger waited patiently as the two men on the gray rubber dinghy started her outboard motor and began to make their way towards the idle floatplane. The doc said it was territorial, so we just need to find it and put it back into its cage again. When that’s finally done I’ll be sitting on a beach, drinking endless pints of lager while staring at my own yacht out in the water.
He opened the Cessna’s side door as soon as the dinghy bumped against the seaplane’s right pontoon. Liger stared down at Peter Poole, who he had left in charge while he was away. “What are you doing out here? We’re more than two hundred kilometers west of the original position.”
Poole was fair-haired, with a hooked nose. “Sorry, boss. Something happened.”
Liger waited until the other crewman on the dinghy had transferred his bags onto the small watercraft before getting onboard. He didn’t want the seaplane pilot to hear any part of the conversation, preferring to talk to his men on the ship.
Poole also knew well enough to be discrete, and both of them stayed quiet as the now fully loaded dinghy turned, started up her outboard motor, and made the short trip back to the side of the Queequeg. Liger climbed up the nylon and fiberglass ladder before moving onto the aft deck of the vessel, right beside the A-framed winch.
He waited until Poole made his way up onto the aft deck as well before motioning him closer. “Spit it out.”
Poole looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve lost the tracking device.”
The three hour long flight from the mainland and then back onto the boat had exhausted him, making Liger’s already short temper even shorter. “That device was supposed to be embedded underneath that thing’s armored head, how could it get loose?”
“We don’t know,” Poole said. “The locator stayed fixed in one spot near the edge of the reef for what seemed to be the whole day, so I even took the submersible down there to take a look. I risked my life just to see for myself.”
“And what did you find?”
Poole pointed towards a half meter long plastic cylinder lying on the side of the deck. “It was sitting on the seabed. I don’t know how it got rid of the device but it did.”
Liger let out a deep breath. So now we have no way of tracking the damned thing!
“I got on the radio and told Morgenstern about it,” Poole said. “He wasn’t too happy, but he doesn’t blame us. He’ll call again when you’re back onboard.”
Liger finally lost it. He twisted his torso slightly to generate some momentum before landing a solid punch to the lower part of Poole’s jaw, sending the other man sideways onto the deck.
Poole was blindsided, and he moaned slightly before spitting out a broken tooth with bits of blood while lying on the floor. “Why… why did you hit me?”
Liger loomed over him. He had been an amateur boxer before he got into commercial diving, and everyone in the community knew better than to cross him. Crouching down, he grabbed the fallen man by his collar and stared menacingly into Poole’s face. “Nobody speaks to Morgenstern but me, do you understand?”
Poole considered himself to be tough as well, but Liger was in another class entirely. He nodded meekly.
Liger’s temper remained unabated. He could tell several members of the boat crew were looking at them, and he wanted to make sure that sort of fear remained in their hearts. They had a job to do, and he was going to make sure they carried through by whatever means possible. “I told you this many, many times already, mate. When it comes to dealing with that bastard of a billionaire, only I get to talk to him. If you have something to say, say it to me first.”
Poole blinked his eyes in an attempt to keep the pain in his jaw at bay. “All… alright.”
Liger let go and stepped backwards while offering his hand. “Now that this little lesson is over, let’s get back to business, shall we?”
Poole hesitated at first, but soon realized he didn’t have much of a choice. He got to one knee and took the bigger man’s hand, then pulled back onto his feet less than a second later. “Morgenstern… told me something else. Wanted… wanted to know if we got everybody out.”
“Well, we did,” Liger said. He had gone to the Indian mainland to make sure all of the project’s scientists were properly briefed on what to say and warned them that any violation of their non-disclosure agreements would be met with the severest of penalties.
“That… that’s what I told him, boss.”
Liger’s frustration had finally drained away. He knew the best stress relief was an outpouring of sudden violence, but a part of him regretted having to do it to his ever-loyal diving partner. Bending over and picking up the small bloody tooth on the deck, he handed it back to Poole with a smile. “Sorry about that. Don’t worry though, with all this money we’re making you can afford a solid gold tooth when we get back on land after this.”