The Shark Whisperer (13 page)

“Well, shark boy. Now what?” Sam asked.

“Hold on. They're lemon sharks and I think they want to tell me something.”

“Okay, in the meantime, tell them we taste really bad. I just had salad for lunch. They'd hate it,” Hugh said.

“They don't want to eat us,” Tristan responded. “They've got a message to pass on.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Sam said. “What's the message?”

Tristan ducked underwater again and concentrated on asking the sharks what it was they wanted to tell him. The largest of the three was about five feet long. It circled in closer. Hugh just about climbed onto Sam's back as the shark passed within just inches of them.

Tristan came up for air. “It's about the Bahamas and something going on there . . . something bad.” He swam away from Sam and Hugh, kicking so that he was alongside the biggest of the sharks. The other two sharks followed. As Tristan and the sharks swam away, Sam and Hugh hightailed it to the beach. The two teens were clearly happy to wait onshore while
Tristan chatted with the sharks. A few minutes later Tristan ran out of the water.

“They want us to talk to Director Davis,” Tristan said, catching his breath.

“About what?” Hugh asked.

“Remember this morning when we heard them talking about sharks being killed and how it might be finning?”

“Yeah,” Hugh and Sam said.

“The sharks came to tell us that they've lost a bunch of their cousins. They want the camp to do something about it.”

“What do you mean? It's a summer camp. Okay, a really weird, completely bizarre summer camp, but still,” Hugh said.

“They also said that before one of the sharks died it saw something big and red on the side of the ship while its fins were being sliced off.”

“Oh, that's awful,” Sam said.

“Yeah, and they're really mad. I would not recommend going swimming off that ship,” Tristan added. “What should we do?”

“I think we'd better go find Director Davis and pass on the message,” Sam answered.

They all agreed and ran to the bungalow to change before going to the camp director. On the way, Sam told them why she thought she could echolocate. After she made the clicking noises she had more than a feeling that the sharks were coming. It was like she had a full-screen 3D image of them in her head.

Tristan decided that this was the strangest summer
camp ever and probably the coolest, best thing that would ever happen to him. He was not only a pretty fast and agile swimmer now, but also a
shark whisperer
. He felt a growing confidence and excitement that he'd never before known. He wondered if he and his new friends had any other special ocean skills or what else they'd get to do at camp. And then he thought:
Why would the sharks ask the camp to help?

8

THE SITUATION ROOM

I
T WAS ALMOST DINNERTIME BY THE TIME
T
RISTAN
, Hugh, and Sam had rinsed off, changed clothes, and worked their way through the jungle wall. Several of the campers they met along the way said they'd seen Director Davis headed toward the park entrance. The three teens ran that way and found him standing beside the dolphin fountain talking with a man and woman they didn't recognize. The strangers wore dark suits that seemed exceptionally out of place and uncomfortably hot for the Florida Keys. The woman was scribbling furiously on a notepad. She was stick thin, her skinny legs barely more than bones, and she stood rigidly as if someone had duct-taped her to a board to ensure terrifyingly perfect posture.

The three teens could hear their conversation perfectly.
They were talking so loudly—every fish, bird, and person within a one-mile radius was probably in on the discussion.

“I cannot believe you sent those children off again before we even finished our investigation of the accident,” the woman fumed. “It was completely inappropriate and irresponsible of you.”

“First off, I would not call them children,” Director Davis responded, obviously trying to keep his anger in check. “They're nearly eighteen. And if you knew anything about our operation you'd know they are well-trained and taught to stay out of sight. We also have adults closely monitoring the situation, making sure they are safe. The risks are minimal.”

“Our definition of minimal is clearly very different than yours, Director Davis. I'm recommending we halt your funding immediately and freeze your operations until we can do a full investigation of the camp.”

“What? What about the team in the field? What about all the good we've done and can do?”

“We will determine if your
good
is worth the risks and a proper use of our, I mean the federal government's, money. In the meantime, get those kids back here
now
. And we are still waiting for you to provide us with the formula for the compound in that water.” The woman turned abruptly and walked briskly into the parking lot. Her skinny heels clicked irritatingly loudly on the pavement.

“That's the taxpayers' money by the way, not yours,” Director Davis muttered after she had left.

The other man turned to him. “Look Mike, it's just temporary. You've got a lot of support in Washington. We just need to go along with her for now. I'll make a call to the congressman and we'll get this straightened out.”

“Can she really stop our funding? The accident in St. Croix was just that—a tragic accident. It had nothing to do with the mission.”

“I know that, but I'm afraid she
can
cut off your funds . . . at least for now. I suggest you get those campers back here pronto and just lay low for awhile. There's really nothing more to be done until things settle down and I can get a hold of the right people.”

“Okay, guess we don't have much choice. Thanks, I appreciate your help.” Director Davis shook the man's hand.

The stranger followed the woman into the parking lot. Tristan thought he looked beyond miserable, like he was about to go to the dentist to have all his teeth removed.

The director turned angrily on his heel and nearly ran right into the three young campers. “You three again. What are you doing here?”

“We . . . we came to find you,” Sam said. “We were in the lagoon and some sharks gave Tristan an important message for you.”

“They did, did they? Well, Mr. Hunt, what is it?”

“Uh, they're really mad. Some of their cousins have been killed in the Bahamas. And before it died, one of the sharks saw a ship with something big and red on it.”

The director's expression softened. “Well, well, that is interesting. Sounds like you have a way with sharks, young man. Thank you.”

“Uh, Director Davis?”

“Yes, Mr. Hunt?”

“They also asked if the camp would help them. And well, I was, I mean
we
were just wondering: how could the camp help?”

“How much of my conversation this morning and just now with our visitors did you all hear?”

Tristan, Hugh, and Sam looked at one another and then at the ground.

“I see. Okay, follow me and let's have a little chat.”

Director Davis strode through the park with the three teens scurrying behind. Even with his limp, he moved rapidly over the stone walkways. The group passed the Conch Café and seemed to be headed for the Poseidon Theater. Just before reaching the amphitheater, the director made a sharp right turn, stopping in front of a large tan rock. He put his hand through a seemingly thick tangle of plants to the side. They heard a sort of click and a door in the fake rock silently slid open. Director Davis went through, followed closely by the three young teens.

They walked through a dimly lit tunnel. Embedded in the dark, rough, rock-like walls were blue lights that resembled flickering flames. After placing his palm on another security scanner, the director led them through another door. “Campers don't usually get this tour till a little later in the summer, after we've had
some time to get to know them better. But given what you've heard already . . .”

Tristan looked around the large room they'd just entered. It seemed to be a combination conference room and computer monitoring station. At the center was a large teal blue oval table with air bubbles the size of eggs embedded in the glass top. Ten dark leather chairs surrounded the table and on the walls were several giant flat screens. At the front of the room were additional screens and a wide curving desk. An older boy sat at the desk with several keyboards at his fingertips.

“Welcome to the Situation Room. This is Flash, our tech wizard,” Director Davis said nodding to the boy up front. “Our new recruits here have some information from the lagoon that might be helpful. Any word from the team?”

“Hello director . . . campers. The team has arrived on Great Exuma as planned and were met by a small boat,” Flash reported. “The tracking devices are working well and they're on-site. I expect an initial report soon.”

Director Davis turned to a large wall-mounted screen where one red and several blue dots were blinking over an area in the Bahamas, about 150 miles to the southeast of the Florida Keys. He touched the screen near the blue dots. It zoomed in to highlight a series of tiny islands grouped in a wishbone shape.

“As you heard this morning, we sent a team to the Bahamas. I believe you know Jade, Rory, and Rusty.
It is a remote area with a series of small, mostly uninhabited islands. The islands sit atop a shallow bank—this light blue area here—and are surrounded by much deeper water. That's the dark blue.”

“Uh sir, did they go because of the sharks being killed?” Tristan asked.

“Partly. You see here at Sea Camp we train teens, such as yourselves, with special abilities and then with our partners around the world we investigate things that happen in the ocean.”

“What kind of things?” Hugh asked.

“Things that cause harm to the ocean and hurt marine life.”

“Why does that lady want to shut the camp down?” Sam asked.

“Well, unfortunately, a few months ago, an older camper, a wonderful boy named Roger, was killed in an accident after a mission in St. Croix. He was part of a team secretly collecting evidence against poachers who had been raiding sea turtle nests for eggs on protected beaches. After the mission, Roger was sightseeing on a scooter and was hit by a tourist driving on the wrong side of the road. It was a terrible, tragic accident. Ms. Kent, the woman you saw me talking to, is a lawyer that works for a part of the government that helps support the camp. She thinks the accident resulted from what we do here, but let me assure you that it did not. It had nothing to do with the mission Roger was on.”

“What's going to happen?” Tristan asked.

“That's a good question, Mr. Hunt. I'm not sure.
But I am going to do everything in my power to keep us operating.”

“What about Jade and the others in the Bahamas? Do they have to come back now?” Sam asked.

“You three don't miss much, do you?”

Suddenly they heard the snappy beat and lyrics from the music of
The Little Mermaid
movie “Under the sea . . .” Flash fumbled with his cell phone.

“Flash, when are you going to change that ringtone?” Director Davis asked shaking his head.