“The tanker’s called the Tonga. She’s a Malaccamax VLCC, a very large crude oil carrier designed with a draft shallow enough to navigate the Antarctic coast. She’s as big as they come, over a thousand feet long and two hundred feet wide. The crown prince had her scrubbed and refitted to haul his sea monsters. Inside the cargo hold are saltwater pens three times the size of our hopper. David told me they had already captured a Dunkleosteus, a sixty-five-foot Ichthyosaurus, and a Helicoprion shark.”

“That’s incredible. And these species all survived the trip to Dubai?”

“The Dunk was in its aquarium when David saw it; the rest I don’t know about. Bin Rashidi’s kept everything quiet, since he ordered his team to follow the Liopleurodon ferox. Moving out ahead of the Tonga is the Dubai-Land, a 280-ton fishing trawler. That’s the hunter’s boat. David’s on board with one of the Mantas.”

Jonas turned to Mac. “What’s the status on our subs?”

“Number One is being recharged. Number Two is in the dry dock ready to launch.”

“Inform Mr. Reed I want to be in the water in fifteen minutes. Zach, you’re with me; it’s time for your first piloting lesson.”

I followed him out the door and down the steel stairwell, my heart racing.

33

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

—Lewis Carroll

I followed Jonas into the bowels of the ship. Reaching the lowest deck, we made our way aft through a tight corridor, past the engine room to a watertight door.

WARNING: PRESSURIZED DIVE CHAMBER
Do NOT enter when red light is ON.

The light was off, the door open.

Jonas led me inside.

Perched on rubber blocks above a pair of sealed horizontal doors in the ship’s keel was the Manta submersible. Aptly named, the hydrodynamic vessel was dark brown on top with a white belly, its body nine feet long with an eighteen-foot wingspan.

“She really does look like a giant manta ray. What’s the hull made of?”

“Layered acrylic,” answered a mechanic, his navy-blue jumpsuit and leather jacket stained with grease.

“Zachary Wallace, Cyel Reed, our chief engineer.”

Reed snorted sarcastically. “One chief, no Indians. And still no damn heater down here. I had to pour boiling water over the starboard wing just to tighten the support struts on your damn laser.”

Jonas examined the Valkyrie. “It came loose when I pulled out of a barrel roll. Think it’ll hold?”

“Will it hold? Yeah. If you quit trying to fly it like an F-15. Weight distribution’s off. You don’t put a luggage rack on a Ferrari and expect it to perform. Barrel rolls or the ability to melt ice—pick your poison, J.T.”

Jonas turned to me. “We can pull the Valkyries. It’s your call.”