Vincent got to his feet. “Jack, sorry, but you’re gonna need to file another report so I can get this project underway. With your input, we can keep a lid on it for public safety perspectives. But we need the Bertholf on the water.”

Jack shook his head slowly. “You’d be wasting your time. Your boat is fast, but the Megalodon will move at twice that speed. Added to that, how are you going to shoot something that won’t come to the surface? It’s probably down in the trenches, and only comes up to feed at night.” He grimaced, seeing the blood rising in his friends face. “Look, Vince, just issue a stay-clear order for the waterways. Just for a week while we check some things out. It might move out to open waters, and then we can—”

“A stay-clear order. For the entire Californian coast? And how do we police that?” Vincent scoffed. “And what do I say – steer clear of jellyfish? Come on, man, help me here. Have you got any serious suggestions?”

“I am trying to help.” Jack felt his own frustration rising.

“Time’s up; people are dead.” Vincent spun to the wharf and leapt up in a single bound. Regina jumped up beside him, standing with her hands on her hips. Her green eyes flashed for a moment, and then they were both gone.

Jack rubbed his forehead as he watched them head back to their helicopter.

Cate came and put her arm around his waist. “So, that was a friend of yours? Hate to meet an enemy.”

Jack laughed softly. “Yeah, Vince can get a little… spirited.” He looked at her. “I was about ten seconds away from sicking my dog on him.”

Cate looked down at Ozzy. The dog’s brown button eyes lit up at the sound of his name and he cocked his head to the side, listening intently now.

Cate laughed, but Jack’s expression quickly clouded. “But… he’s right. I think we’ve got work to do.”

Cate nodded, looking out at the setting sun. “Yeah, but can we please do it in there?” She nodded towards the restaurant. “Always wanted to try it, and I think I’d like to be off a small boat right now.”

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 30

On the edge of the shelf, fifty miles out from Mendocino

The yacht glided over the dark blue water with barely a ripple. The gentle breeze was enough to just tilt the magnificent boat and push it along at about five knots. William Harris had the wheel of Sulacco, and by now could have put it on autopilot if he chose, but there was something about standing, legs braced, holding the wheel, and in total control that he really loved.