Free Barracuda by Mike Monahan Page A

enough life-sustaining oxygen,
but shellfish could not do so and thus suffocated.
    “Hello, T.C. Is that you?”
    “Yes, Uncle Timmy. How are you?”
    “Fine. How are you? How are you?”
    “Okay, Uncle Two-Times, relax and take a big
breath,” she laughed.
    The two talked for over an hour, discussing
their respective projects and finally the money laundering. Terry
didn’t seem too concerned. She just thought her neurotic uncle was
exaggerating and that they’d probably found the ledger of a timid
bookkeeper who had brought his work on vacation with him. She was
more interested in her uncle’s tales of huge tube and barrel
sponges the size of bathtubs, as well as corals that populated the
formerly radioactive lagoon. Terry thought there might be something
in Bikini Atoll that could help in her research. For coral and
other organisms to grow larger than normal, they would need much
more oxygen and nutrients. Thus, there was a direct correlation to
her red tide research. She told her uncle that she would attempt to
get a grant to investigate the coral anomalies in Bikini Atoll, but
she didn’t think that she would be as lucky as he was.
    While Dr. Collins spoke to his niece, James
walked along the deserted dock, which was still covered in a myriad
of fish scales that shone like a million tiny light bulbs when the
moon reflected off them. There was a first-quarter moon high in the
dark sky that splashed the dock in silvery shadows, and the lagoon
water gently splashed up against the pilings, sounding like an old
man walking in wet galoshes.
    James suddenly felt a sense of dread. The
shimmering shadows coupled with the rhythmic sounds of the tide and
boats banging against their rubber tire bumpers filled him with
fear. He knew this apprehension was unwarranted, but he felt it
just the same. This isn’t the Brooklyn docks , he told
himself. There is nothing to fear here in a pastel
paradise .
    Suddenly, a voice bellowed, “Can I help
you?”
    James turned to see a giant of a man standing
behind him. He was paralyzed with fear. “Don’t hurt me please!” he
cried instinctively.
    The giant laughed in a deep throaty voice that
was somehow soothing. “I’m Celestial, and I wouldn’t harm a
fly.”
    “Jesus, man, you’re just the fellow I’m looking
for.”
    “Do not use the Lord’s name in vain,” Celestial
warned.
    “Sorry, it’s just that you startled me,” James
explained. “I work with Dr. Collins and we are doing shark research
in the atoll. I can assure you that we treat the marine animals
with respect and dignity, but our research is very important to
their ecological equilibrium.”
    “Speak in layman’s language. I am not a
scientist,” Celestial said with a laugh.
    “Sorry again.” James was also laughing.
    The two walked to the Hummingbird and, in
simple terms, James explained why they needed his help. Celestial
listened patiently. Celestial understood the need for the
postmortem because he knew these reefers were different. He knew
that their anatomy might be different from other gray reef sharks.
But he clarified a few things for James. There was no need to
capture a live gray reefer and kill it to perform a necropsy.
    “There is a shark graveyard that only I know
about,” Celestial said. “We can get the body of a gray reef shark
from there for your experiment—or whatever you call it.”
    Celestial had been blown off course during a
gale one day and sought shelter on Bokbata Island located at the
far northwest corner of Bikini Atoll. When the weather cleared, he
noticed thousands of crabs in the shallows. This made him curious,
so he donned his mask and snorkel and dove down for a peek. What he
found was a huge graveyard for gray reef sharks. Unlike other
reefers, these sharks swam here to die, and the crabs and other
scavengers cleaned the skeletons.
    James was ecstatic. If this information could be
documented, Dr. Collins would have his new breed of shark
confirmed. He would be the