The Mystery of the Kidnapped Whale - Marc Brandel [37]
But their internal ears were much more efficient than humans’ were. They could pick up their own sonar, the echo of their own voices, so accurately they could tell the exact size and shape of any submerged object hundreds of yards away.
They could hear one another’s greetings or calls of distress for miles underwater.
Bob shucked off his sweater and sneakers. Then he picked up the recorder in its airtight metal case and waded into the sea. He lowered the case into the water and held it there while the tape slowly unwound. Fluke’s song, the recording of his voice, was being broadcast at full volume out into the ocean.
No human ear would be able to hear it. But maybe Fluke would.
On board Slater’s boat Jupe was still standing in the stern. He slipped his walkie-talkie quickly back into the locker.
Twenty yards away Fluke and Constance were floating side by side. Slater was still shouting at her to bring the box on board.
Jupe raised his hand in the signal he had arranged with Constance. It meant he had managed to get through to Bob at the cove.
Constance waved back. She had understood. She patted Fluke’s head and they dived together.
Slater straightened from the rail. “What’s going on?” he yelled. He hurried to the cockpit and pushed Pete away from the wheel. Gripping it himself, he swung the bow around until he was headed for the spot where Fluke and Constance had disappeared.
He was almost there when Constance bobbed up. Slater brought the boat to a stop beside her and gave the wheel back to Pete.
“Hold her right here,” he ordered as he ran back to the rail.
“Where’s that box?” he shouted down to Constance.
She didn’t answer. She was holding the searchlight and the camera in one hand. She gripped the rail with the other and swung herself on board.
“Where’s that whale?”
Constance still didn’t answer. She took off her mask and slipped the air tank off her back.
“Where is it?” Slater was peering over the side. “Where is it? Where did it go?”
Constance shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Slater.”
“What do you mean?” Slater turned to Jupe. “Give me those binoculars.” Jupe handed them over. Slater raised them to his eyes, searching the ocean around him.
There was no sign of Fluke. Wherever he was, wherever he was heading, he was swimming underwater.
“Whales can be funny that way,” Constance explained. Slater had his back to her. She glanced at Jupe and winked. “They’re so friendly and then, I don’t know, they get a sudden yen to be free and they just go off and leave you without even saying goodbye.”
Slater lowered the binoculars. “He’s got my box!” he shouted. “You tied it to his head.” He glared suspiciously at Constance. “Why did you do that?”
Constance shrugged again. “I had to,” she said. “It was the only way I could get it to the surface. You must admit Fluke did a wonderful job. He swam right down into that cabin and under the bunk. He had the clothes hanger in his mouth and he managed to slip the hook under the handle of the box. He pulled it out of the cabin. Then I hauled in the line and brought the box up –”
“Why didn’t you bring it to the boat?”
“Please don’t interrupt me, Mr. Slater. I was a long way down. There was no way I could swim to the surface with that great heavy metal case containing all those –”
“It wasn’t so heavy. It was –”
“I asked you not to interrupt me, Mr. Slater.” Constance was looking down at him with her clenched hands on her hips. “The only way I could possibly manage to get that heavy metal case with all those calculators in it back to the boat was to take the camera off Fluke’s head and tie the box to his harness instead.”
She picked up the towel that was hanging over the rail and began to dry her dark, feathery hair with it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Slater,” she went on. “But it’s just as bad for me. Half those calculators belong to my father. I lost