Carol nodded and Bernice’s image faded away from the screen. On the monitor Carol now watched the beginning of a short tutorial documentary on oyster farming. The piece was beautifully filmed underwater using the most advanced photographic equipment. The narration featured the mellifluous voice of Dr. Dale and the video pointed out the connection between the inventions at MOI (the Miami Oceanographic Institute, of which Dr. Dale Michaels was the founder and chief executive officer) and the rapid rise of sea farming of all kinds. But Carol had to laugh. Playing quietly behind the narration, and increasing in volume during periods of narrative silence, was Pachelbel’s “Canon.” It was Dale’s favorite piece of mood music (he was so predictable — Carol always knew what was coming next when Dale put Pachelbel on the CD player in his apartment), but it seemed strange to her to listen to the lilting strings as the cameras moved in for close-ups of growing oysters.
The oyster story was abruptly discontinued in medias res and the screen dissolved to the interior of a large executive office. Dale Michaels was sitting on a couch, across the room from his modem desk, looking at one of three video monitors that could be seen in the room. “Good morning again, Carol,” he said enthusiastically. “So how did it go? And where are you? I didn’t know that they had videos in the Marriott rooms yet.”
Dr. Michaels was tall and slim. Blond, his hair was slightly curly and receding just a trace at the temples. He flashed a ready smile that was too quick, almost practiced, but his green eyes were warm and open.
“I’m down in the comm room here at the hotel,” Carol answered. “I just sent the whale beaching story off to the Herald on disc. Jesus, Dale, I felt so sorry for those poor animals. How can they be so smart and still get their directions so fouled up?”
“We don’t know, Carol,” Dale replied. “But remember that our definition of intelligence and the whales’ definition are almost certainly completely different. Besides, it’s not that surprising that they trust their internal navigation system even when it leads them to disaster. Can you imagine a situation in which you would essentially disregard information that your eyes were giving you? It’s the same thing. We’re talking here about a malfunction in their primary sensor.”
Carol was quiet for a moment. “I guess I can see what you’re saying,” she said finally, “but it hurt to see them so helpless. Oh, well, anyway, I got the story on video too. Incidentally, the new integrated video technology is superb. The Marriott here just installed a new higher data rate modem for video and I was able to transfer the entire eight-minute piece to Joey Hernandez at Channel 44 in only two minutes. He loved it. He does the noon news, you know. Catch it if you can and tell me what you think.”
Carol paused just a beat. “And by the way, Dale, thanks again for the tip.”
“Just glad to help.” Dale was beaming. He loved it when he could help Carol with her career. He had been pursuing her single-mindedly, in his left brain scientific way, for almost a year and a half. But he had been unable to convince her that a permanent relationship would be mutually beneficial. Or at least he thought that was the problem.
“I think this whale thing could be a great cover,” Carol was saying. “You know I was worried about attracting too much attention with your telescope. And the treasure hunter bit just doesn’t fit if someone down here recognizes me. But I think I can use a whale follow-up story as the pretense. What do you think?”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” Dale answered. “Incidentally, there have been a couple of other whale irregularities reported as well this morning — a partial pod beaching up at Sanibel and a supposed attack on a fishing boat north of Marathon. The owner was Vietnamese and highly excitable. Of course it’s almost unheard of that false killers attack anything related to humans. But maybe you can use the whole thing somehow.”
Carol saw that he was already up from the couch and walking around his office. Dr. Dale Michaels had so much energy it was almost impossible for him to sit still or relax. He was just a few months away from his fortieth birthday but he still had the zest and enthusiasm of a teenager.
“Just try not to let anyone from the Navy know that you have the telescope,” he continued. “They called again this morning and asked for a third set of equipment. I told them the third telescope was loaned out and being used for research. Whatever it is that they’re looking for must be very important.” He turned and looked at the camera. “And very secret. This guy Lieutenant Todd reminded me again this morning, as soon as I made a normal scientific inquiry, that it was Navy business and he couldn’t tell me anything about it.”
Carol made some notes on a small spiral pad. “You know, Dale,” she began again, “I thought this story had tremendous potential as soon as you mentioned it to me yesterday. Everything indicates that something unusual and secret is going on with the Navy. I myself was amused by the amateur way that Todd stonewalled me on the phone yesterday and then demanded to know who had given me his name. I told him that a source in the Pentagon had suggested that there was some high-priority activity at the Naval Air Station in Key West and that he, Todd, was associated with it. He seemed to buy it. And I’m convinced that the bozo Navy public affairs guy here knows nothing at all about anything that might be happening.”
Carol yawned and quickly put her hand over her mouth. “Well, it’s too late to go back to bed. I guess I’ll exercise and then go find that boat we talked about. I feel as if I’m looking for a needle in a haystack, but your guess could be right. Anyway, I’ll start with the map you gave me. And if they really have lost a cruise missile somewhere down here and are trying to cover it up, it would certainly be a great scoop for me. Talk to you later.”
Dale waved good-bye and hung up. Carol left the communications area and walked out to the end of the hotel. She had an oceanfront room on the first floor. The Herald wouldn’t pay for that kind of luxury, but she had decided to splurge anyway this time and pamper herself. As she was changing into her skin-tight workout swimsuit, she mused to herself about her conversation with Dale. Nobody would ever know, she thought, that Dale and I are lovers. Or at least sex partners It’s all so businesslike. As if we’re teammates or something. No darlings or dears. She paused for a moment and then completed her thought. Did I make it that way? she wondered.
It was almost nine o’clock and the resort was in the process of waking up when Carol walked out of her room and onto the hotel grounds. On the beach, the staff had just arrived and were setting out the chaises and umbrellas on the sand for the early risers. Carol walked over to the young man in charge (a typical Charlie Terrific, Carol thought sarcastically as she watched him strut along in front of his concession shack) and informed him that she was going for a long exercise swim. Twice at hotels previously she had forgotten to tell the guardians of the beach that she was going to swim a half mile away from the shore. Both times she had been “rescued,” much to her dismay, and had created an untoward scene.
As Carol worked into the rhythm of her freestyle stroke, she began to feel the release of tension, the loosening of the knots that bound her most of the time. Although she told most other people that she exercised regularly to stay fit, the real reason Carol spent at least forty-five minutes each morning running, swimming, or walking briskly was that she needed the exercise to deal with her fast-paced life. Only after hard exercise could she really feel calm and at peace with her world.
It was normal for Carol to let her mind drift idly from subject to subject while she was swimming long distances. This morning she remembered swimming long ago in the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean near Laguna Beach in California. Carol had been eight years old at the time and had gone to a birthday party given by a friend, Jessica was her name, whom Carol had met at soccer camp during the summer. Jessica was rich. Her house had cost more than a million dollars and Jessica had more toys and dolls than Carol could possibly imagine.