coat pocket and handed it to Zora. There was a number on it, nothing else. "This is a private number, untraceable. You have until midnight to call me with an answer. That's less than six hours from now. If I don't hear from you, or you decide not to accept our generous offer, then you'll just have to live with the consequences. Oh, and don't even think about calling the cops. We'll know before you hang up the phone. Good-bye, captain, and good luck."
Seconds later, the man vanished into the night mist.
Zora watched after him, her heart cold and heavy. She walked on another block to a wooden landing that looked out over the gloomy, wind-swept harbor. In the amber light of a streetlamp, a lone gull swooped in looking for scraps, found none, and flew off. She sat down on a stone bench, boiling mad, her mind racing. Not even tough Zora, the one she relied on, the one her crew relied on, could hold it together now. She felt achingly alone, a loneliness that settled on her like a second skin. She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands, searching for answers.
None came.
But the tears did, pouring out so hard, her whole body shook.
What should I do, Mom, what the hell should I do?
Chapter 14
30 March, 10:30 AM PDT
Kingdom of the Sea Oceanarium,
Seattle, Washington
Colby freeman paced back and forth in his office like a caged animal, all dark circles and nervous energy. A smoldering headache pressed hard on his temples. He'd already popped four ibuprofens to dull the pain, but so far the pills hadn't kicked in. Nearly two hours had now passed since he'd learned of Samson's death. The news was hardly unexpected, yet still it hit with dizzying force.
Freeman thought about the steps he'd taken in the past twenty-four hours to contain the inevitable, satisfied that his actions had been quick and decisive. After moving Samson to a heavily-guarded sea-pen sealed off from the rest of the property, he'd then temporarily reassigned the entire orca team, except for Leanne and Big Boy. This was no small task. It took nearly three dozen pros alone, most working behind the scenes, to keep the whales healthy and the popular exhibit humming. And every one of them knew Samson was the glue that held the entire operation together, the gift that kept on giving.
Finally, he'd issued a carefully crafted press release, touting more safety measures in the wake of the Osaka incident. Employees around the world were fed essentially the same message, a message entirely consistent with CGE's unwritten policy. Known simply as "The Chandler Way," it said without saying that the company's position on employees discussing business matters with outsiders was one of zero tolerance. Those who disregarded the mandate quickly found themselves in the unemployment line, a place nobody wanted to be, especially in these tough times. The global outreach was no small task either. The KOS empire employed thousands of people divided into dozens of departments filled with specialists, from traffic flow engineers to designers to animal behaviorists to guest relations.
But Freeman had not pulled any punches with the two colleagues standing a few feet from him now, talking in hushed tones. Samson's death had changed everything and he told them so. Savannah Sokolov had flown in earlier that morning aboard a CGE corporate jet, and she too seemed taken aback by the news. On Savannah's right stood Darnell Atwater, managing partner at Black Stallion. He'd taken a commercial flight the night before from his headquarters in Denver. A former Army Ranger, Atwater was gym-rat fit with hard-boiled eyes, a poker face, and a nose that had been broken one too many times. His birth certificate put him at fifty-nine. He looked at least ten years younger.
They were staring at a photo.
Savannah turned to Freeman. "Okay, so you're telling us that, as of late yesterday afternoon, Dr. Kincaid here gave us forty-eight hours to notify the Feds, right?"
Freeman
Seconds later, the man vanished into the night mist.
Zora watched after him, her heart cold and heavy. She walked on another block to a wooden landing that looked out over the gloomy, wind-swept harbor. In the amber light of a streetlamp, a lone gull swooped in looking for scraps, found none, and flew off. She sat down on a stone bench, boiling mad, her mind racing. Not even tough Zora, the one she relied on, the one her crew relied on, could hold it together now. She felt achingly alone, a loneliness that settled on her like a second skin. She leaned forward, cradling her head in her hands, searching for answers.
None came.
But the tears did, pouring out so hard, her whole body shook.
What should I do, Mom, what the hell should I do?
Chapter 14
30 March, 10:30 AM PDT
Kingdom of the Sea Oceanarium,
Seattle, Washington
Colby freeman paced back and forth in his office like a caged animal, all dark circles and nervous energy. A smoldering headache pressed hard on his temples. He'd already popped four ibuprofens to dull the pain, but so far the pills hadn't kicked in. Nearly two hours had now passed since he'd learned of Samson's death. The news was hardly unexpected, yet still it hit with dizzying force.
Freeman thought about the steps he'd taken in the past twenty-four hours to contain the inevitable, satisfied that his actions had been quick and decisive. After moving Samson to a heavily-guarded sea-pen sealed off from the rest of the property, he'd then temporarily reassigned the entire orca team, except for Leanne and Big Boy. This was no small task. It took nearly three dozen pros alone, most working behind the scenes, to keep the whales healthy and the popular exhibit humming. And every one of them knew Samson was the glue that held the entire operation together, the gift that kept on giving.
Finally, he'd issued a carefully crafted press release, touting more safety measures in the wake of the Osaka incident. Employees around the world were fed essentially the same message, a message entirely consistent with CGE's unwritten policy. Known simply as "The Chandler Way," it said without saying that the company's position on employees discussing business matters with outsiders was one of zero tolerance. Those who disregarded the mandate quickly found themselves in the unemployment line, a place nobody wanted to be, especially in these tough times. The global outreach was no small task either. The KOS empire employed thousands of people divided into dozens of departments filled with specialists, from traffic flow engineers to designers to animal behaviorists to guest relations.
But Freeman had not pulled any punches with the two colleagues standing a few feet from him now, talking in hushed tones. Samson's death had changed everything and he told them so. Savannah Sokolov had flown in earlier that morning aboard a CGE corporate jet, and she too seemed taken aback by the news. On Savannah's right stood Darnell Atwater, managing partner at Black Stallion. He'd taken a commercial flight the night before from his headquarters in Denver. A former Army Ranger, Atwater was gym-rat fit with hard-boiled eyes, a poker face, and a nose that had been broken one too many times. His birth certificate put him at fifty-nine. He looked at least ten years younger.
They were staring at a photo.
Savannah turned to Freeman. "Okay, so you're telling us that, as of late yesterday afternoon, Dr. Kincaid here gave us forty-eight hours to notify the Feds, right?"
Freeman
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