The Black Tide

By Perry DeFiore

Ralph Mullen is a famous toxicologist who has done many investigations for the United States government and has recently retired; however, good men, especially with Ralph’s talents in science and skill as a Force Recon Marine, are not allowed to retire so easily. They become part-time retirees.

Ralph gets a call to investigate a stra

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Mar 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781643459264

Perry DeFiore

Perry was born and raised in Allentown, Pennsylvania, and lived a pauperized lifestyle, joining the USMC to get an education, but his prowess led him to Vietnam instead, so his studies had to wait. He went to various universities to get his education in environmental sciences, ocean sciences, oceanography, physics, and chemistry and more, still continuing to study today. His wife refers to him as a permanent student. He founded a society to develop young scientists, which still exists today, using his experience working with scientists from various countries on expeditions. His scientific knowledge and twenty-year experience in education, along with his education in writing, has given him what is necessary to be a good writer. Most of what he writes is actually true.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Hope Salvage Ship

Complain, complain, complain.

Hey, it’s cold down there! Even with a dry suit. My toes will be numb by the time we get back up, you know?

Yeah, yeah. But you like the money, don’t you? I don’t hear you complaining on payday. Besides, isn’t that blubber around your middle enough to make you sweat down there? Should keep you from hypothermia.

That was enough to stuff a sock into Salvador’s Sea of Cortez mouth. He thought about a comeback, but Memo was one of those serious stuffed shirts. He came on board the Hope Salvage only a month ago, and he still had a difficult time acclimating himself to the waters off Seattle’s coast. He came from Hermosillo, Mexico, where the water never got so cold as the North Pacific waters. He was also a PADI diver, but graduated from diving school a year ago and finished his studies in environmental science at the Technológico de Monterrey.

You need help with that? Memo was from Guaymas, on the coast of Mexico’s Sea of Cortez. His parents migrated from a little town outside of Monterrey, Mexico, fell in love with the coast, and just remained. Once he began studying at Berkeley, however, he never left the States. He married a California-born Mexican lady from Berkeley.

All this fancy equipment makes me nervous.

Ha! This fancy and expensive equipment can save your life, my man. The owner skimps on many things, but not on equipment, thank God. Just this TEK system runs around eight hundred.

TEK system?

It holds your tanks and makes them more buoyant so there’s less weight on your back, and you can inflate the jacket to get to the surface with less effort, which you already know.

Oh yeah. I didn’t know you were talking about the tank jacket.

The full ocean mask lets you see more and is more expensive than the dam jacket.

And more difficult to get on and off, too.

For your safety. Jesus, man. You complain about everything, don’t you?

Not about the ladies.

Ah, yes. The ladies. I already heard some of those stories, Memo commented with a touch of disgust. Memo was married with two early teenage children.

Yeah? Which ones? I got a million of ’em, Salvador said in an attempt to lighten up the conversation, his big whites flashing the smile the ladies loved.

You can brag about your conquests later, lover boy. We have a job to do first.

Spoilsport. Don’t you ever have any fun?

Not when I’m diving this deep.

Shit! How deep we goin’ anyway?

Around 240 feet.

240! On air?

Yes. And no. You have Trimix in your tanks.

Somehow that doesn’t give me a lot of confidence. I’ve never been that deep before, man. It’s gonna be pitch black down there.

Just stay with me. You’ll do just fine. You’ll get used to the darkness. Also why you have such expensive gear.

Memo nodded to Salvador and put his thumbs up, then fell into the water, and Salvador followed.

They’re in—finally.

Are we in a hurry?

Mike sat at the small table inhaling the ham and eggs Nancy had left on her plate.

Aren’t you worried about your weight? Nancy said, glancing back at Mike.

What goes in comes out, my dear.

Creep. They’re stopping at 50 feet. Good. She looked at her watch and shook her head. It’s already ten hundred.

Patience, my dear. They’ll continue in a couple of minutes. Where they’re going, it doesn’t matter what time it is up here. Mike sipped on his coffee and stretched. He was twenty-eight, four years younger than Nancy and the youngest on board, but he was one of the best PADI divers around.

Okay. There they go. I should have gone with him instead of Salvador.

Afraid of not getting the glory for sighting the shipwreck?

Hell no. Salvador isn’t really qualified for that depth, and you know it.

Exactly why Memo took him instead of you or me, my dear. He took a loud sip of his coffee. He’ll never get qualified if someone doesn’t teach him. And who better than Memo to do that?

Nancy sighed heavily.

Yeah. Guess you’re right at that. Never thought of it that way. He is the best there is. Wow, they’re at 150. They’re pausing. Nothing big around them. So far, so good.

Hey! I’m not exactly a schmuck diver myself. Why don’t you just talk to Memo on the radio? Maybe you’ll feel less jumpy.

He gave me specific instructions not to unless it was important, she said with disappointment.

And you, of course, will listen to the letter. Well, I’m gonna take a nap. Sleep off the eggs.

You just got up!

And? You’re gonna stick to that sonar and computer like glue. If you change your mind and wanna join me in bed, take your clothes off first, dear.

Don’t hold your breath—dear.

Ha-ha. I won’t. There’s still some coffee left.

I’ll put a fresh pot on when they start coming up.

Mike nodded and sprawled onto the cot without taking his sandals off.

Memo shone his light to the right. Salvador followed his lead. There it was. Memo checked his gauge—210 feet. He keyed the coordinates and depth up top on the wrist computer. The ship was on its side close to a rise in the mountainous bottom. Salvador nodded and smiled his excitement on the find. Memo went to the bow, and Salvador went to the stern to place a marking buoy. Their job was done. Now it would be Nancy and Mike’s turn.

They found it!

Mike fell out of bed with a thud and found his place behind Nancy.

You found it! Congratulations! Nancy announced, breaking radio silence.

Thanks, came a distant voice that didn’t sound like Memo at all. I sent you the coordinates, and we’re attaching the marking buoys now. It’s a wooden ship.

Got them. Great. The boss will like that! We’ll go look for the buoys. Nancy got up, bumping into Mike.

Easy, girl. It’s going to take a while. Why are you always in such a hurry? Are you like that in everything you do? Mike grinned playfully.

You got a one-track mind, she retorted with disgust as she pushed him out of her way to get to the deck, her long red hair slapping against Mike’s face.

Mike smiled and nodded his head in agreement, then followed her up on deck. If you ever sampled it, you’d crave for more, baby, he said to himself.

Memo shone his light at Salvador, motioning him to surface, when Salvador suddenly disappeared from his light beam. He swam toward Salvador’s location and searched the area. His light came to a cave in the mountain, and he saw the tentacles around Salvador. One of the thick tentacles pulled Salvador’s mask off, pulling his head back to his backbone, then his body disappeared into the cave.

Memo sensed movement. He pulled himself into the hold of the shipwreck and turned his light off. He sat on his knees, laboring at controlling his breathing and hiding the light that emanated from his wrist computer. He made himself perfectly motionless.

He felt many ripples of water passing him. At this depth, that meant large species of life were passing by him—a lot of them. He waited pensively, his heart pounding so hard his ears rang and echoed in his head as if it were an empty chamber. He could swear whatever was passing him by could hear it.

The waves ceased. He waited a few more minutes, then ventured out from his hiding place, turning his lamp on to survey the area. He cautiously swam toward the cave where Salvador disappeared using his GPS. He entered the readings into his computer.

He saw the cave opening and cautiously went toward it, careful to keep his distance. There was no sign of Salvador, but he noticed the large sacks suspended from the cave ceiling. He had not brought any weapons save a knife, and he was no match for the size of the octopus that had to be in that cave. The tentacles were as thick as his legs. He checked the buoys and surfaced.

Mike!

Mike was sitting on deck patiently waiting.

Mike! Come here! Look at this! Nancy yelled.

Mike went to the computer and watched hundreds of bleeps passing across the screen.

Look at the size of those. What are they? Small whales? Sharks? God, I hope not sharks, she said in a pleading voice.

Sharks at that depth? Not likely. What’s he at? 200?

210.

How long have they been at 210?

Over thirty minutes now. Well, whatever they were, they passed. Nancy said with relief then rose up from her seat, and she and Mike went back up on deck.

There! Northwest! Mike pointed.

Two yellow buoys bobbed in the cold North Pacific Ocean. The June sun and cloudless blue sky couldn’t help but give one the false impression the water would be warm.

Suddenly Nancy bolted toward the small boat tied to the Hope.

Where are you going!? Mike called after her.

To get samples!

Of what?!

She turned to him from inside the launch.

Don’t you see all those dead fish? The black tide?

Where? He turned to the sea and searched.

Oh, yeah. There it is. Wow. He observed for a minute or two. That’s a lot of dead fish—and big ones. He turned to Nancy, but she was already out on the water, heading toward the black tide.

Keep an eye on Memo and Salvador! she yelled, cupping her right hand around her mouth while her left controlled the small craft.

Mike nodded and went down to man the computer. Memo was up to 150 feet. The ascent would be slow. He put a fresh pot of coffee on. Now he began to wish he had gone down with Memo.

He looked at the computer again. He noticed there was only one ping coming up. His heart began to pick up a beat. One ping—one person. Which one was coming up? Which one stayed down, and where was he? There wasn’t any other ping. Memo probably sent Salvador up, and he stayed down to wander around inside the wreck, and the sonar couldn’t read him. He was probably inside the wreckage, and that’s why he couldn’t get the other ping. Typical Memo. Salvador was now up to 50 feet. Mike pulled himself up, grabbed a pair of binoculars, and went on deck to watch him surface.

He watched Nancy take specimens from the water and carefully pull some dead fish out of the sea. The blue latex gloves complemented her white skin. So did her red one-piece swimsuit, which matched her hair and hung to her every curve. He smiled.

A little more breast and you could be one of those famous models, baby.

Memo broke the surface and looked around before taking his mask off. He saw Nancy going toward the ship in the launch, waved, blew on his whistle, and called out to her. She immediately came around.

Where’s Salvador? she queried.

Memo didn’t answer her question as he pulled himself into the small boat, being careful not to step on her specimens.

Memo? Salvador? she insisted.

Memo shook his head. A giant octopus got him. Broke his neck. Took him into its cave. It’s nesting. Saw the egg sacs.

Oh, no! NO! How?

I don’t know yet. There were hundreds of something big down there, I think. I could feel their presence, or at least the presence of a lot of large species of something. After they left I looked for him. He shook his head.

Nancy sat speechless with a water sample in a test tube still in her hand.

What are you going to do with that?

There was a huge black pool, almost like an oil spill. I took some samples.

Why the fish?

There were tons of dead fish in the black tide. She nodded in the direction she got the samples from.

Memo looked out in the direction she pointed.

I see. And you got some samples. Good job, he said matter-of-factly. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat disinterested at the moment.

Nancy cruised back to the ship’s aft to board.

She told you about the black tide? Mike asked as he tied off the launch then helped them out of the boat onto the deck.

Yes.

Salvador?

Let me get out of this gear, and I’ll tell you all the gory details.

Shit! Coffee’s ready. It’s fresh. Mike looked at Nancy and Memo’s face, and his gut told him he would not be seeing Salvador’s face again.

I think I’ll need a whiskey to go with it, Memo said as he pulled his gear off.

Sure wish we had it, Mike agreed and gave Nancy a hard stare. Nancy always played everything by the book. She was a Berkeley graduate too and was working on her doctorate in ocean sciences.

Memo looked dogged. Mike had prepared Memo a coffee and motioned to Memo it was on the table when they came below.

Okay, what happened, Memo? Mike asked anxiously and apprehensively.

Thanks. Everything went perfect. We found the wreck and tied on the marking buoys. I took the bow and sent Salvador to the stern. But when I shone my light at Salvador to tell him to surface, he wasn’t there anymore. I swam to the stern to look for him and came across a cave. The wreck is lying right in front of it. I saw these two tentacles as thick as my leg wrapped around Salvador. One of them…

Go on, Memo, one of them what? urged Mike.

Give ’im time, Mike. Jesus!

One of ’em tore his mask off! It looked like it broke his neck doing it. Then it just disappeared into the cave, with Salvador attached to one of its tentacles. I’m pretty sure I saw egg sacs hanging inside the cave. I-I think it was nesting.

But they don’t eat once they nest, Nancy said to herself with surprise.

So what do we do now? asked Nancy.

I didn’t have any weapons. I-I couldn’t get his body.

Why didn’t you? You normally do, Mike questioned gently.

I thought it would be too much bulk. I wanted to concentrate on training Salvador. I brought my slate instead. Memo shook his head and stared into his empty coffee cup.

You’re not thinking of going down to search for treasure then, are you? Nancy quizzed. She accosted herself for her thoughts as she noted Memo’s muscular body that didn’t have an ounce of fat. She was envious of his wife.

Me? No. Not anymore. The owner can get someone else to go down there with all those giant octopi.

You think he’ll pay us if we don’t? Mike asked.

Maybe not. But I got a family to worry about.

Nancy and Mike looked at each other. Memo noticed.

If you guys want to stay on, fine. No hard feelings.

You could stay on board, Memo. You said Mike and I would go down next, anyway, remember? Someone has to be up here at all times, anyway, offered Nancy. We couldn’t do this without you. (She knew he’d come around in a day or two after he got over the loss of one of his crew.)

Mike did not share Nancy’s opinion. He was thinking of the octopi.

Yeah. I guess I could do that much.

We better call the owner now, don’t you think? Nancy asked.

Yeah. Memo sighed and nodded his head. You’re right. He picked up the radio phone and tuned a frequency. Might as well get it over with. Send him the data, Nancy, will you?

Nancy nodded.

Saahir Hadad was born in Los Angeles, but his parents were from Saudi Arabia. His name means charming and enchanting, but he was neither of them. He owned a chain of restaurants that covered the states of Washington, California, Oregon, and Montana.

He bought the Hope Salvage ship eight years ago. Salvaging shipwrecks was actually Saahir’s hobby. He was an eccentric who always dreamed of finding a shipwreck and discovering valuable treasures, but yet he feared the sea itself and had never learned to even snorkel, let alone dive. The Hope was like an expensive toy, but his dream kept him pouring money into it, much to the criticism of his parents and wife, although he never actually told them the real amount of money he had sunk into the Hope and its searches.

He didn’t tell any of his family about the two apartments he had in Seattle and Portland, nor of the young ladies that occupied each. They fed his fifty-two-year-old ego.

His ability to speak English, various Arabic dialects, and French enhanced his ability to negotiate his international investments, which gave him more of a return on his money than his restaurant chain’s income.

’Ello?

Hi, boss. Memo here.

Why are you calling, Memo. Found the wreck? Saahir sat upright in his high-back chair, anticipating exciting news.

Oh yes. We found it all right.

Congratulations! But you do not sound happy.

It cost us a life.

A life? Tell me what you mean, Memo.

Salvador dove with me. I was training him. A giant octopus got him.

A what?! Giant octopus, you tell me?

Yes. It tore off his mask at 210 feet.

Very unfortunate. I will notify his family, of course. What about the wreck?

You want us to continue?

Yes, of course. It is very unfortunate about Salvador, but this is a risky business. You need to go down for the treasures now.

Yes. The treasures. Somehow I just don’t feel animated anymore.

Saahir took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

I understand, but if you want to get paid, you dive for the treasures. If you don’t want to, tell me. I will send someone else, Saahir stated without emotion.

No. Don’t worry. We’re going back down. Salvador’s family will get his pay, right, sir?

His family? Uh, okay, yes. I will send his pay to them.

Insurance?

Yes. Of course. I have insurance. I will call them.

Good.

Okay, then. You go back to work. I will take care of the things here for Salvador. Everyone else okay? Nancy?

Yes. Everyone else is fine.

Okay. Goodbye.

The radio went dead.

Coldhearted son of a bitch, Memo said in a whisper, but the others heard.

Do you think he really has insurance? Nancy asked. She was standing beside Memo during the entire conversation.

I sure as hell hope so, Mike answered.

That is one cold bastard, Memo said softly.

He probably just has a hard time expressing himself, Nancy explained. It’s the language.

This is just business for him, Mike commented.

No more for today, Memo announced. We’ll dive in the morning. Tell Igor he can get some fishing in.

I’ll join ’em. See what we eat for dinner. Nancy, you cookin’?

Maybe Igor can today since he doesn’t have to pilot the ship, she answered as she watched Memo slowly climb into his bunk. I’ll check all the gear for tomorrow while you and Igor fish.

Igor and Mike threw out their lines and began to wait for the results.

I am sorry about your friend, Igor said. His body seemed to be double the size of Mike’s as he stood at Mike’s side. Igor was from Bergen, Norway, on the coast of the Norwegian Sea. He had his dark brown hair cut to a fourth of an inch.

Yeah. Memo’s really taking it hard.

He feels responsible. Igor reached out with his hairy right arm and tugged on his line a couple of times.

Yeah. How long have you known the owner?

Oh, we go back a long ways now. Maybe ten years.

Ten years! Wow. You must know him pretty well, then. Mike looked into Igor’s steely blue eyes. Somehow everything about Igor gave him the impression he wouldn’t want to mess with him.

Well enough. Just business, though.

They continued with the small talk and pulled in two large tuna for dinner.

Chapter 2

Building a Dream

The kids will be here in about an hour, hon, Stephanie yelled through the door. She waited till Ralph acknowledged hearing her with a nod, then scurried back to the house.

Ralph took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He felt desperate to finish his furniture for his office. It was the last room to finish furnishing. He laid down his tape measure and pencil, took off his safety glasses, and laid them gently on the work table. He looked around the large workshop he had built himself a little over six years ago. A lot of furniture had been built here, all by his own hand, his own design. He smiled with self-satisfaction, glanced up at the four skylights that gave him a lot of light to work by during the day, and made his way to the house. He thought about the long hard months he worked under tarps in the cold of winter and the heat of summer before he built his workshop.

Oh, good, Stephanie said when Ralph came in the kitchen. Take a quick shower and shave! I laid out some clothes for you, but you can wear something else if you like.

Sure, he thought. They’d been together for thirty-five years, and he had learned to wear exactly what she picked out. Every once in a while, he would rebel just to regret it later. Besides, he really didn’t care about clothes, anyway. He didn’t know why she insisted he shave. It was only the kids and grandkids that were coming, and she knew how he hated to shave. They didn’t care if Grandpa shaved or not. He thought about growing a beard and had even tried a couple of times, but the flak he got from the only woman he loved in his life killed the adventure of growing one.

He stood in front of his wife’s brass full-length mirror, showered, shaved, and dressed in black jeans and a red Duluth pocketed T-shirt. Well, retired for almost two years now. The projects are almost finished. What are you going to do then? Ralph mused.

Ralph? Are you ready?

He smiled and chuckled to himself. She probably had something else for him to do.

Can you just watch the oven while I get dressed? When the bell rings, just take out the pies and set them on top of the oven. Well… She smiled her beautiful smile that always melted Ralph and made him smile with her. She reached up and stroked his cheek. Don’t we look handsome…mmm…and we smell so good. Maybe I’ll call the kids and tell them to come an hour later. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek against his.

That’ll be the day. But I’m game, he said as he squeezed her other set of cheeks with both hands.

Easy, tiger, she said as she zipped off to the bedroom.

Grandpa! Annie yelled as she threw open the front door and raced across the front room to Grandpa’s open arms in the kitchen.

Oh-ho! How’s my artist today?

Fine. Where’s Henny and Julie?

I’m sure they’ll be here any minute.

Can I turn on the TV?

Sure.

She was gone in a second.

Hi, Dad, Barbara said as she gave him a hug.

Hi, sweetheart. He reached out his hand to Barbara’s husband, David.

You got the cable yet? he asked Ralph.

Yeah. Just this Thursday.

Hi, Grandpa! Julie and