The Sleeper Shark

The only dangerous rumor was the one no one was keeping an eye on and for a field where everybody knew everybody it was a rare thing for a rumor to exist with an immediate truth undecided. The rumor played out in conferences, multi-organizational projects, professional retreats, and just about anywhere involving two or more shark biologists, but still not one person could confirm or fully deny the rumor. As a result, there was suspicion and leading figures within the field warned younger associates that nothing good could come from such a mangled collection of supposed ‘interactions’.

“But what if this recognition helped sharks? What if it flooded the field with more grants and opportunities? Wouldn’t it then be worth it?” An up-and-comer asked once, and he had reason to ask such a thing as the rumor he heard involved biologists like himself taking in six-figure salaries. To every marine biologist he posed this question to, a hush would run over them and then they would respond the same way, as if they were sharing a secret group chat he was not a part of.

“No good can come from this.” Was always the answer.

When Dr. Jane Abara received a call from one of her dearest and most trusted friend and colleague, Dr. Lizzy Salas, she was half-way to a North Carolina dock with an intern, Elinor Jones.

“You want me to cancel my trip to Bermuda and instead swing by Homestead while they’re preparing for Hurricane Pistris?” Dr. Jane Abara could not believe the proposal Dr. Salas was making. Sure, Dr. Salas was talented in walking the line between trouble and fun, but for Dr. Salas to suggest that Dr. Abara should drop everything and come to Florida immediately on the eve of a hurricane’s landfall was something else.

“Jane, it’s just a cat three and a weak one at that.” This was no comfort, and Dr. Salas could sense it. The Florida based biologist sighed heavily and then whispered over the line. “It’s about the rumor.” Those were the words that sealed Dr. Abara’s arrival into Florida.

One plane ride and a two-hour drive through Miami hurricane traffic found Dr. Abara and Elinor at the empty parking lot of the Museum of Florida’s Natural History in Homestead in the evening. This was after Dr. Abara warned Elinor that this was the same friend she had rescued from a dolphin ending with, “That was five years ago and I still can’t believe she thought it’d be a good idea to surf while dolphins were in the area. You have any idea how strong those things are? One accidental hit from them and you go flying and that’s if they’re being clumsy. Intentional? Oh, forget about it. You’ll be in the hospital.” Even after this humorous exchange, Elinor still noted the intensity at Dr. Abara’s ochre brow and the nervousness at her hands as she drove.

Trusting her gut, Dr. Abara assumed a necropsy might be awaiting her and so the woman made sure to braid her ebony hair back and bring with her a pack of fresh clothes. The museum stood nearly four stories tall, included an IMAX, a five-hundred thousand gallon coral reef habitat, a sea turtle rehabilitation center, and several departments that specialized in everything between archeology and zoology.

“There she is.” Dr. Abara commented as she parked the car and hustled out with her pack in hand.

Dr. Salas, despite her nervousness, smiled big and opened her arms to embrace her friend. “It’s good to see you.” Dr. Salas said before the hug ended. Already Dr. Abara could see her friend’s sepia eyes watching the sky and looking around. Dr. Abara noted the twinge of silent dread on her friend’s tawny brow. Inside the museum’s massive foyer smelled of salt water. Above her head, Elinor admired the fake, but to scale Otodus megalodon model with its open jaws angled downward so incoming guests knew what the ocean was capable of. Above the long-lost shark, Elinor could see each floor and at the ceiling a pool sized dome held together by metal and glass showed the brewing storm above.

“I didn’t know you were inviting more people.” A man’s voice paused Elinor’s admiration and Dr. Abara’s deep thoughts concerning her friend.

“Oh, Agent Cuffe. I’m sorry. Things have been so chaotic the last twenty-four hours I meant to mention we’d be joined by–”

“Dr. Abara.” Henry finished and briefly it appeared the suit wearing man was annoyed, but he dropped the vexation in his eyes and reached out a pale hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Agent Henry Cuffe.” Dr. Abara accepted the hand, but did not take her eyes from Henry’s stern gaze.

“Bit of a miscommunication, I’m afraid. Agent Cuffe–”

“I think it’s best if we get this whole thing started.” Agent Cuffe interrupted and then turned to show the way, but Dr. Abara could not help but notice the holstered gun at his hip.

“Who is this guy?” Dr. Abara asked Dr. Salas, with Elinor following close behind.

“He’s an agent with the federal government.” Dr. Salas answered quickly.

“What did you do?” Dr. Abara asked and realized it was not out of the realm of possibility that her friend was in some serious trouble.

“I didn’t do anything. I just accepted a package. I think it’s from the Arctic Oceanographic Institute. I don’t know, Jane. The whole thing is so weird. I mean, who randomly sends an iced shark to someone?” The three women exchanged looks. “Okay, I understand, but without notification and no return address?”

“So, you received a shark?” Dr. Abara tried to follow along, but between the Agent with a very real gun and the sound of torrential rainfall picking up it was hard. Dr. Salas did not answer and instead opened the door to the necropsy lab where Agent Cuffe waited. Inside the lab smelled of cleaner and fish, but the smell was quicky dismissed at the sight of the three-meter shark resting on a stainless-steel table. The shark boasted of large, cloudy eyes attached to a face with a robust snout, a not so pronounced dorsal fin, small pectoral fins, and a deep greyish-coal color.

“A sleeper shark.” Elinor’s amazement could hardly be contained.

“Pacific sleeper shark and he came with a present.” Pulling on a pair of nitril gloves, Dr. Salas moved down the shark where she picked up a wire sticking out from the shark’s skin just below the second dorsal fin and at the end a blue blinking, opaque device no bigger than a sample vile. The doctors locked eyes and Dr. Abara placed on pair gloves while signaling for Elinor to come stand next to her away from the door. “Do you know of any projects up North?” Dr. Salas asked, but her tone said she was confident no such project involving expensive satellite tags and deep dwelling sharks was happening. Dr. Abara looked from the shark to Agent Cuffe, back to Dr. Salas.

“Did this man show you a badge?” Dr. Abara asked nonchalantly and in a whisper as she examined the tag.

“No. I asked, but he changed the subject. I figured he was just in a hurry. He just showed up moments before you arrived and said the shark was property of the US government.” Dr. Salas followed along, pointing to something on the shark that could make it seem no discussion was happening involving anything other than the shark.

“I’ve never seen a tag like this.” Dr. Salas mentioned, her curiosity and apprehension fighting for attention.

“This is a military grade tag. I think I see CPU chips stacked one on top of the other behind the acrylic. This thing could hold petabytes of data. It’s like a pocket computer. I’m sure this thing is capable of sending real time information.”

“What kind of information?” Dr. Salas asked and Dr. Abara forced herself to shrug as if she were asked if she wanted ice cream.

“Depth, temperature, current…” Dr. Abara turned the tab over in her hand a final time and caught the glint of silver mesh. “Microphone?” Dr. Abara said to herself. “Lizzy, I think this is a listening device.”

“How many people know about this shark?” Agent Cuffe asked, his hands on his waist. The question startled Elinor, but annoyed Dr. Abara, who tried to come up with a quick diversion. “Agent Cuffe, this shark just got entangled with some fishing line. Not unheard of and kind of a waste of time.” Dr. Abara put her hands behind her back and from there signaled for Dr. Salas and Elinor to back up towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

“That’s a dead end. It just leads to one of the feeder stations above the aquarium.” Dr. Salas whispered.

“Then it looks like we’re going for a swim.” Dr. Abara mumbled under her breath.

“Agent Cuffe, this species of shark is well known for eating just about anything–” Dr. Abara put her full weight into the table with the shark on top and pushed hard, sending the wheeled weapon straight for Agent Cuffe. “Go!” Dr. Abara called and the three women ran for the door. Just as Dr. Salas warned, the room led to a small, secondary food preparation area and a few feet from there the edge of the multi-species aquarium.

“What the hell is going on?” Dr. Salas screamed, locking the door and beginning to remove her shoes.

“Warfare.” Dr. Abara answered. Dr. Abara did not elaborate as she dived into the aquarium and came to the surface to find Elinor and Dr. Salas with her.

“Across from us we can haul out on the diver’s ramp and through those double doors is the main hall.” Dr. Salas was already swimming for the opposite end of the habitat.

“What species of sharks do you have in here?” Elinor asked.

“Sand tiger and nurse. Nothing that’ll cause us trouble, except for the loggerhead. That damn turtle is an asshole.” Dr. Salas forced a laugh at her own joke, but once at the diver’s ramp lost any humor as she exited the habitat and turned to help Dr. Abara and Elinor. The women rushed through the double doors, trying not to slide as they entered the main hall.

“Hands up!” Agent Cuffe called loud from behind and the three women stopped, raised their hands, and turned to face him. Agent Cuffe had his weapon drawn and pointed at the women.

“I’m really sorry to have to do this, but that kind of technology can’t get out.” As Agent Cuffe approached the women, a bright streak of lightening stuck the dome window above and pushed through until it hit the megalodon model, bursting it in half. The megalodon’s jaws fell down, knocked Agent Cuffe to his feet, and sent his weapon sliding across the floor.

What felt like days, but was really hours, turned the museum into a soaked crime scene as both the local police force and federal agents descended onto the bizarre scene, bringing with them dripping raingear. To Dr. Salas’ greatest irritation, the federal agents present said nothing about ‘Agent Cuffe’ other than he was a fraud. As for the sleeper shark, it was removed promptly by the agents and toted off to who knows where. In the privacy of Dr. Salas’ home, Dr. Abara revealed what she knew and shined a light on the rumor very few wanted to talk about. “The government, not just ours though, has been picking up biologists one by one. Offering them deals too good to be true. It’s all about warfare, not the science or the sharks. They have been using deep dwelling species to track enemy submarines. That listening device was probably used to monitor submarine travel through the Arctic Circle.”

“We have to do something.” Elinor posed. Dr. Abara thought of an answer.

“We go public.”