The Deep Range - Arthur C. Clarke [84]
“He probably planned that,” said Franklin with reluctant admiration. “He’s diabolically well-informed. I wish now I hadn’t said so much about the possibilities of milk production during that interview—and they did overplay it a bit in the final article. I’m sure that’s what started the whole business.”
“That’s another thing I was going to mention. Where did he get the figures on which he based his statistics? As far as I know, they have never been published anywhere outside the bureau.”
“You’re right,” conceded Franklin. “I should have thought of that before. First thing tomorrow morning I’m going out to Heron Island to have a little talk with Dr. Lundquist.”
“Will you take me, Daddy?” pleaded Anne.
“Not this time, young lady. I wouldn’t like an innocent daughter of mine to hear some of the things I may have to say.”
“Dr. Lundquist is out in the lagoon, sir,” said the chief lab assistant. “There’s no way of contacting him until he decides to come up.”
“Oh, isn’t there? I could go down and tap him on the shoulder.”
“I don’t think that would be at all wise, sir. Attila and Genghis Khan aren’t very fond of strangers.”
“Good God—is he swimming with them!”
“Oh yes—they’re quite fond of him, and they’ve got very friendly with the wardens who work with them. But anyone else might be eaten rather quickly.”
Quite a lot seemed to be going on, thought Franklin, that he knew very little about. He decided to walk to the lagoon; unless it was extremely hot, or one had something to carry, it was never worthwhile to take a car for such short distances.
He had changed his mind by the time he reached the new eastern jetty. Either Heron Island was getting bigger or he was beginning to feel his years. He sat down on the keel of an upturned dinghy, and looked out to sea. The tide was in, but the sharp dividing line marking the edge of the reef was clearly visible, and in the fenced-off enclosure the spouts of the two killer whales appeared as intermittent plumes of mist. There was a small boat out there, with somebody in it, but it was too far away for him to tell whether it was Dr. Lundquist or one of his assistants.
He waited for a few minutes, then telephoned for a boat to carry him out to the reef. In slightly more time than it would have taken him to swim there, he arrived at the enclosure and had his first good look at Attila and Genghis Khan.
The two killer whales were a little under thirty feet long, and as his boat approached them they simultaneously reared out of the water and stared at him with their huge, intelligent eyes. The unusual attitude, and the pure white of the bodies now presented to him, gave Franklin the uncanny impression that he was face to face not with animals but with beings who might be higher in the order of creation than himself. He knew that the truth was far otherwise, and reminded himself that he was looking at the most ruthless killer in the sea.
No, that was not quite correct. The second most ruthless killer in the sea.…
The whales dropped back into the water, apparently satisfied with their scrutiny. It was then that Franklin made out Lundquist, working about thirty feet down with a small torpedo loaded with instruments. Probably the commotion had disturbed him, because he came quickly to the surface and lay treading water, with his face mask pushed back, as he recognized his visitor.
“Good morning, Mr. Franklin. I wasn’t expecting you today. What do you think of my pupils?”
“Very impressive. How well are they learning their lessons?”
“There’s no doubt about it—they’re brilliant. Even cleverer than porpoises, and surprisingly affectionate when they get to know you. I can teach them to do anything now. If I wanted to commit the perfect murder, I could tell them that you were a seal on