Leviathan (End)

I recalled the biggest, meanest, ugliest snapping turtles of my youth. I knew a kid who had a finger bitten off by one. Those vicious beasts had nothing on this monster, especially size and ugliness.

“Are you cold?” asked Ada.

“No, I’m just shaking.”

I stood shaking for nearly 45 minutes. I heard a loud scraping and realized Ada was sliding down the cliff. She disappeared into the trees in a blink.

“Czu.” It was Garland on the radio. “Get up here as quickly as you can. Take cover if you can’t.”

“What’s going on?”

The monster answered me. I thought it might be lighting at first, even though the sky was clear. White, fiery something was pouring out of the turtle’s mouth. The trees around the bay were alight. Steam rose up in a cloud. Things started exploding.

I ran. I tried to keep my light steady. The trail that pleasantly stair-stepped down the mountain by day pushed up rocks and roots to catch my feet at night.

I heard rain. Hail started to fall around me. It wasn’t hail; it was rocks. I left the zigzag trail and ran straight uphill as hard as I could. Not as hard as what stuck my head.

I was in a daze on the ground. Gravel was falling around me along with stones as big as my fist. Someone picked me up and carried me fireman-style. It was a short, very fast fireman in scorched and shredded clothes.

**

I woke in a hospital. Ada was standing by my bed. It was three Adas in matching green, floral sundresses. Three nurses came in, identical triplets, and checked something on my arm. They were three young guys who chatted up the Adas in some buzzing language. She politely responded in what might have been Latin or Zulu. It was too much for me. I took a nap.

My next visitor was Ron Keaton. “Hi, Czu. Glad to see you’re okay. You actually look better than usual.”

“Funny,” I said. “Ada? Garland? O’Shaw?”

“Ada is fine. It had to be decontaminated because of the radiation, but nothing that would hurt it. The researchers were farther away and ready to take cover. They didn’t share your St. George complex. O’Shaw is gone. Ada tried to save him, but was too late. She rescued you. There is nothing but ash and salt at O’Shaw bay.”

He went on to tell me why he was there besides friendliness. It was something fancy and legal. He said he made sure I got paid anyway. In addition, something called the Ada Experiment Fund of the Watanabe Foundation would be paying my hospital bills. That made me fell better than any of the treatments the doctors were giving me.

-End-

Leviathan (14)

Garland’s team sat up on a mountainside. It was on a state park just south of O’Shaw Bay. I could see the little bay from a clearing where research assistants and graduate students were setting up cameras and computers. Several coastal parks were closed with the megatutestudines surfaced 80 kilometers offshore. As a researcher, Garland was allowed in.

I followed Ada down the mountain. It carried over 200 kilograms of equipment with no apparent effort. It wasn’t hot, but I sweated a little walking down the winding trail.

I was out of breath when Ada stopped at a cliff. We were about 90 meters above sea level and about half way down from the main camp. We were about 1.5 kilometers from the bay.

It was clear and a strong wind blew in off the ocean. I looked to the west and could see the curvature of the earth. We were above the trees between us and the bay and could see it neatly lay before us. It looked even more wild and remote than the mountain we were on. I pictured the O’Shaw Foundation campus there, surrounded by a wildlife preserve.

Ada pointed out a cabin and a platform near the bay. Through the binoculars, I could see a few people: O’Shaw, Gemuen, Nate, a couple of others. They were doing something with equipment on the platform. I wondered if this was the vacation home O’Shaw had been at before I visited him. I didn’t see his boat—only a kayak leaning against the cabin.

After a couple of hours there seemed to be an argument. Everyone was packing up except O’Shaw. He looked like he was staying. Nate threw up his hands and stomped away to a waiting SUV. Gemuen kissed O’Shaw and they held each other for a minute. She got into another SUV and a small caravan drove off into the trees.

“Something will happen soon,” I said.

Ada didn’t answer. It was communicating with the others up the mountain to make sure they we getting signals from all the equipment. It made adjustments and moved a couple of cameras as directed.

I made myself comfortable with my back against a tree. Ada stood motionless. The wind blew its hair and inflated its jacket.

I must have slept. I woke up when Ada started to move. I woke up fast when I heard excited voices over the radio.

It was twilight and darkening fast. It was too dark to see the monster against the water, but the infrared equipment could see it clearly. I had no display at my site, but Ada pointed out its location. I saw only gray waves on gray waves.

I could make out things on land a little better by the light of the quarter-moon. The moon and sun had shared the sky for about an hour. The shy, white crescent was flaunting now that its big brother had gone to bed. I saw two lights come on. I picked up my binoculars and found O’Shaw on the platform. He was wrapped in his pea coat. Monitors glowed around him, but he stared at the sea. I think he was smiling.

The first sign of the turtle was bulging water. It looked like an odd wave until the spikes emerged. Water rushed into the bay passed the high tide line.

The monster took its time coming out of the water. Its enormous shell was a flattened dome covered with knife-like spikes. There was room on its back for a football stadium. When its head finally came above the water, it blew spray out of its nostrils. It looked around with yellow eyes. They seemed to glow; I could see them without the binoculars.

Its front flippers surged forward and pushed up another flood. They spread as wide as the mouth of the bay. It folded its flippers in half and took a few steps forward on padded elbows. It lifted its head and opened its mouth wide.

After nearly half an hour, I asked Ada, “What is it doing?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Dr. Honey?”

Garland’s voice on the radio seemed loud after such stillness. “I don’t know, Ada. Maybe it’s just breathing. Maybe it’s smelling or tasting something. Sometimes lions take a similar pose when they trying to pick up a scent.”

Leviathan (13)

I got back to my office just before midnight. I emptied my pockets onto my desk and sat down. Something rolled off and hit my shoes. It was my pills. I picked up the bottle, rolled it in my hands and let the rattling distract me from all the questions I had.

At 028 hours, the doorbell chimed. I hushed the signal and pretended I wasn’t there.

The computer warned be it was subject to attempted hacking. Some unfortunate technician in India was about to have his lunch interrupted.

My computer said, “Mr. Czujinko, she knows you’re here and she’s reasonably certain you’re awake.”

I decided to answer the door. It was Ada.

**

I was surprised at how lifelike it was up close. Normally I’d be pleased to see a pretty, young woman at my door. I was creeped out.

“Please pardon my rudeness, Mr. Czujinko,” it said. “Why were you there tonight?”

“I was hoping to learn something about where you were. Now I’ve found you.”

“Why were you looking for me?”

I answered in a few words. It said, “I will confirm this.”

It prowled around the office as if looking for something. It spiraled in toward me, it manner softening by degrees.

“Thank you for assisting the Watanabe estate, Hero,” it said, bowing. “I am concerned that you appear not to have taken your medication for many days.”

“Don’t call me that and mind your own business.”

It bowed again. “Please excuse my forwardness. I was programmed to assist Dr. Kevin with things related to his health.”

I figured it was my turn to ask some questions. “Why were you there tonight?”

“I was recovering what was really stolen.” Ada held up the tablet she had snatched from Nate. “Let me show you. Over the last few years, Dr. Kevin was studying echolocation. He developed sonar equipment and software for his studies.”

“I saw something like that on O’Shaw’s boat.”

Ada nodded. “The ocean is a noisy place for creatures not designed to listen in it. Dr. Kevin became curious about echolocation and listening underwater. As he researched the literature, he found speculation that some megafauna may use echolocation. Also, some researchers noted that megafauna sightings were often associated with earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and great storms. They conjectured that the sounds or vibrations produced by these events might attract the creatures.

“Dr. Kevin worked out a way to reproduce some of these vibrations. He hoped that megafauna could be attracted to locations where they could be studied with relative safety.”

“So he built a monster call.”

Ada shook her head. “He designed one. While cataloguing his projects after his death, I discovered that an unauthorized copy of his notes and plans had been made two months ago. My search for the responsible person eventually led me to O’Shaw.

“Mr. O’Shaw has built the call. Recent sightings in the eastern Pacific indicate that he has attracted the attention of the megatutestudines. The information on this computer indicates he may be near acquiring his aim.”

“So what?”

“Sir, you help people recover stolen property. Help me recover Dr. Kevin’s stolen legacy.”

“If O’Shaw has this turtle on the line, where does he plan to reel it in?”

“O’Shaw Bay.”

**

Ada bowed and said, “Hello, Dr. Honey.” I cast a questioning look at Dr. Garland.

“That is what my ‘H’ stands for. I started using my middle name as a teen to sound more mature. A mature name doesn’t hurt when you’re up for tenure, either. When Kevin learned my first name, he insisted on using it. Ada picked it up from him. I’m glad you recovered it.”

Keaton had said the same thing. The Nippon Pacific Insurance legal team was busily parsing what Ada had discovered about the information theft.

“What are you doing here?” asked Garland.

“We know where the big turtle is headed,” I said.

Ada explained. Garland looked shocked at first, but soon she was smiling and bright-eyed in spite of herself. The poured over maps and spoke in jargon-filled shorthand. They looked like gossiping sisters. They gossiped about satellite images, trajectories and acoustics.

I braved the basilisk stare of the receptionist to get some coffee. When I got back to Garland’s office, she and Ada had a teleconference going.

“What’s up?” I asked.

The professors smiled on me like sunshine. “We’re going fishing.”

**

Leviathan (12)

The warehouse had row after row of tall shelves. The shelves were 2 meters and stacked five high. The roof was another 6 meters above the shelves, supported by arched trusses. The shelves were full, but the building hadn’t seen much recent traffic. The floor was dusty enough to show a trail of footprints. I followed it.

The trail turned down a doublewide aisle. I turned down the parallel aisle just before it. I heard voices: O’Shaw, Gemuen, someone else. Here and there, I could see through the boxes and shelves.

O’Shaw was questioning a thin, pale, blonde man, punctuating with a small object in his hand. Gemuen would sometimes elaborate on some point for O’Shaw or the man she called Nate.

Nate finished up a long explanation. “After this, I should be able to decrypt anything. We made all the adjustments you requested. We thoroughly debugged it.”

“It will work as expected now?” asked Gemuen.

Nate made a flipping motion with his hand. “It works on the computer. That’s all I can do.”

“Show me,” said O’Shaw. Nate began tapping the screen of a tablet.

Someone dropped down right beside them. She landed on her feet with an incredible crack and squatted into a winged frog position before springing upright. I knew it had to be Ada before I could see it clearly. It was wearing the nylon jacket I had seen that afternoon; the hat and glasses were gone.

Ada snatched the tablet from Nate. Gemuen reached out, but the robot sprang toward the ceiling. Gemuen pulled a pistol from her purse.

I ran straight out the door and to my car. I drove with the lights out until I got into a residential neighborhood. By then I was a little lost. I stumbled onto a familiar street name and found my way home.

It seemed a little strange to me at first. The key clued me in. You can’t easily track who passes an old mechanical lock. You can’t easily track a file that is hand-delivered. Only four people and a robot knew anything about it. Ada and I hadn’t been invited.

Leviathan (11)

A woman in a billowing, nylon jacket was getting into a boat farther out in the docks. She wore her hair under a baseball cap and huge sunglasses. Only she and the gulls and I were stirring. The Coast Guard discouraged excursions because of the megatestudines sightings.

I walked back to my car. I sat and thought for a while. I reminded myself that if finding things was easy I’d need to get into a new line of business. It started to rain and I slept.

**

When I woke, the dash clock showed 2145 hours I rolled down the window to let in some fresh air. It was cold, humid and fishy. At 2200 hours a dark, blocky figure walked into the lot and got into a long Jaguar. I started my car and followed with the lights out.

We pulled into a block of warehouses. The Jag took the corner slow so I crept around and pulled in behind a dumpster. The other car stopped about the middle of the block and parked behind a SUV. The driver got out, started walking, passed under a light. It was O’Shaw.

I was watched him through binoculars. I could see his breath form clouds in the air. He stopped at a street level door and performed a trick I hadn’t seen in years. He pulled a key from his pocket and opened a lock.

I scanned the block. The other doors had cameras and card swipes or thumbprint scanners. O’Shaw did not want a record of the comings and goings through that door. A second SUV came down from the far end of the block and parked with the other. A man got out, knocked and went in.
I waited 10 minutes before I walked down the street to the door. I tried the knob. It turned and I stepped through the door. I entered an airlock not much bigger than a closet. The door on the other end was open. I could hear voices, but they were not clear.

Leviathan (10)

“Do you know anyone who fits the bill?”

“I know some of the most ruthless business leaders in the world. They’re my kind of people. I suspect some of them would wink at information theft. I can’t think of anyone who would go for this.”

I got up and thanked him. After a couple of steps toward the door, I stopped for one more question. “What is this music?”

O’Shaw’s smile warmed a couple of degrees. “This is whale song. Real, live, only about 80 kilometers off shore. Let me show you.”

He pulled up a display on a large, flat monitor. The upper portion showed a changing waveform like an oscilloscope. The lower part was a list of dates, times, whale species and numbers.

“We import and distribute sonar equipment made by Watanabe. This listens for whales. The software can identify whale song, even the species. It can estimate the number of whales in the pod. It also gives bearing and distance. Given the size of the microphone array, it is amazingly accurate.

“Marine biology is my first love. When I was a kid, I went into business thinking having lots of money was important. I was good at making money. Now that I have it, I spend it all on marine sciences wishing I was a biologist.”

That reminded be of my computer search. “Thus the O’Shaw Bay Foundation.”

O’Shaw flashed gleaming teeth. “Exactly. The foundation is attempting to catalogue all marine species. We collect samples from all over the world. We’re also mapping the DNA of all marine animals. I take part in an expedition every year. I get to play at being a graduate student.

“Next year we plan to break ground on a campus for the foundation. Not just offices, but also labs, an aquarium, docks, the works.” He paused when his phone rang. “I’ve gotten completely off the subject. I hope you’ll excuse me. I’ll need to return this call quickly. If I can help you, Ms. Gemuen can get a message to me at any time.” He showed me out and helped me back off the boat.

Leviathan (9)

“Kevin was a great guy,” O’Shaw said. “He was a genius—a sharp businessman, too. Tell me what I can do. Do the insurance people think there was something suspicious about his death?” He leaned forward, elbows on knees, as we sat across from each other on leather chairs in the cabin.

“Not as far as I know,” I answered. “I’ve been hired to locate some property missing from his estate.”

“What’s that?”

“His robot, Ada.”

He leaned back now. He exhaled long and slow through his nose. “That is bold.”

“You be Dr. Watanabe. The robot is in the U.S. I was hoping you might be able to give me some leads on who might want it.”

“If anyone was a target of industrial espionage, it was Kevin. We had many deals. The security of information he shared with my staff was always a big deal for him. You don’t get a deal with Watanabe Industries until their people are sure their interests will be protected.”

“Why would someone target his robot? Who might want it?”

“That is the part I don’t get. If you got it, how would you get the secrets out of it? How could you get it without disabling it? How could you disable it without risking destroying it? How could you get close to its secrets without it destroying itself?” O’Shaw crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. I let him think. “My company has had to deal with spies: hackers, sneak thieves, employees who turn for some easy money. They’re not James Bond material. I can’t think of any businesses with the nerve or means to take Ada. They wouldn’t go for such a risk. Some military agency might pull it off, but they could simply buy what they want. I don’t know much about organized crime, but I think it would take someone like that: hardened men, organized, willing to do anything.”

Leviathan (8)

I was passed through three people before I found someone who could even discuss a conversation with O’Shaw. Ms. Gemuen had the classic California girl face: tanned, blond, little nose turned up just so. I guessed she was 30, but she might have been younger. She seemed know about O’Shaw’s relationship with Watanabe. Her voice took on a sympathetic tone when she learned I represented the insurer of the Watanabe estate. “Mr. O’Shaw was very upset by the news of his death,” she told me. She said she’d call me back.

She called within an hour. O’Shaw was sailing down from his vacation home. He could meet me on his boat the next morning. She told me where he’d be docked and the slip number.

**

The O’Shaw Bay was not a giant yacht as I imagined it would be. I did communicate newness and wealth in a hundred subtle ways. It looked polished: no barnacles, no scrapes, immaculate finish. The shape of its hull made it look more like a racing boat than a pleasure craft, but it was clearly outfitted for comfort. Next to its name across the back was a pentagon with the depiction of a muscular arm holding a trident. A simplified version of this emblem served as the logo of the O’Shaw Bay Company.

O’Shaw wore black from his cap to his highly polished, square-toed boots. He wore a double-breasted pea coat that gave him an angular look like stacked blocks. He gave me a hand onto the boat. It was calloused, but clean and manicured.

We exchanged greetings quickly. I turned down the strong drink I wanted. I accepted the coffee—cold air and dark clouds were starting to roll in off the ocean. The cabin was warm. Everything was polished wood, gleaming brass and leather. Hidden speakers played low, long, sonorous tones with the timbre of cello, bass and tuba.

Leviathan (7)

Her eyes subtly turned to the clock again. “Excuse me. I have another appointment. If there is anything I can do, let me know.”

She stood up without waiting for my reply. I shook her proffered hand, said thanks and left.

Out in the reception area two women waited. One wore a flattering gray suit. Her makeup was perfect. She was using a small mirror and a pick to put two stray hairs back in place. The other woman wore black denim jeans, a heavy wool jacket and her hair in a pony tail. A large black, backpack rested at her feet. The receptionist only had eyes for me—evil eyes.

*****

Two dead ends. It was time to put aside fortuity and get back to detective work. Since starting at the beginning wasn’t working, I decided to start at the end by searching the hundreds of companies that might like to have the robot and its secrets. I instructed my computer to find the companies with a California presence that did business with Watanabe companies.

I took a nap while the computer worked. When I woke, I thought of the list of hundreds of companies I’d have to sort through and all the calls I’d have to make. I decided to stay on the couch and let the computer work some more.

I was relieved to discover the list wasn’t so long. Much of Watanabe’s business in America was tied to the O’Shaw Bay Company. It was a holding company for various businesses; several imported or licensed Watanabe technology. It was a closely held Nevada corporation, but the president, Hank O’Shaw, was very public.

The computer had found several articles about O’Shaw. Few had to do with business. Most were about his philanthropy to wildlife and marine conservation organizations. It was big money.

The society pages had the best tid-bits. O’Shaw had entertained Watanabe on several occasions. There was even a photograph of them smiling and shaking hands. They were about the same height. Watanabe was thin. His face was round and almost feminine. O’Shaw was broad, square and ruddy.

Leviathan (6)

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure that if Ada is functioning, it would try to contact the authorities or return itself. It would resist any attempt to be stolen. It wouldn’t injure someone to free itself, but it would do almost anything short of that. Whoever stole it must have shut it down or convinced it that someone would be harmed if it attempted an escape.”

“You seem to know a lot about this robot.”

“I knew Kevin well. I guess I picked up a few things from him.”

I paused, looked from Garland to the photo of Ada and back. It was easy to imagine this woman in her late twenties serving as model for the robot. She was pretty. Now that she somewhere in her thirties, a mature and finely feminine beauty had emerged. Her features were trimmer, but not sharp. She had fine lines that spoke more of smiling that frowning.

I asked, “Why does Ada look like you?”

“Whimsy. Maybe it was Kevin’s way to remember me. We were close.”

“How close?”

“I was focused on my career. He would get so wrapped up in his work that I’d have to remind him to eat. We got as close as such people could get.” She looked at the photo again and shook her head. “We used to accuse Kevin of having a bainshunfu-bot. There were urban legends circulating around Tokyo when I was there about wealthy men who kept robotic prostitutes. Back then, Ada looked like your typical pretty-girl robotic companion straight from the pages of manga. I’m sure Kevin never used it that way. He took our ribbing well.”

“Did they really have robot prostitutes?”
“If not then, I’d guess someone has done it by now. The Japanese use a lot of human-like forms in even simple, utilitarian machines. I think it is charming. American robots tend to be….” She motioned with her hand toward a panel in the wall near the floor. It was designed to allow a robotic cleaner to enter and exit locked offices. “Glorified appliances,” she finished.