A manta aquarium had made sense for its research potential too. Ichthyologists, and all animal researchers, tried to analyze their subject in their natural habitats whenever possible, but the reality was that studying large, wild creatures swimming freely in the open ocean was extremely difficult. By comparison, in captivity, animals could be studied extensively and around the clock. Indeed, most of what was known about dolphins—the most analyzed ocean-dwelling species on earth—had been learned from studying specimens in captivity. That had been the aquarium’s precise research objective: to allow Jason Aldridge and others to analyze manta rays as thoroughly as dolphins had been.
Construction of the aquarium, which Jason himself had designed, had been completed in two years. Financial pro formas predicted the $95 million cost would be paid off in eighteen months. On every front, hopes had been sky-high for the aquarium’s opening. It never happened. The opening was delayed, rescheduled four times, then scrapped entirely. For more than three years, it had been one disaster after another. And through everything, including his own fall from grace, Jason had been nothing but optimistic, a fighter with a fantastic attitude who never gave up.
The biggest problem had been the mantas themselves. For reasons unknown, they simply wouldn’t stay alive. Forty-seven died throughout a thirty-two-month period, and neither Jason nor any of the experts hired to support him could determine why. Anything and everything was done to save them. Nothing worked.
Finally, Ackerman decided that Jason, then barely ranked in the top ten in his field, and the few members of the team who still had contracts should get back to working with mantas in the wild, nominally with the goal of still trying to make the aquarium work. They’d been in tropical Mexico ever since.
Ackerman shrugged. “Anyway, it’s done. Unless something else comes up, we’re turning the aquarium into a home for killer whales.”
Jason glanced at Lisa, swallowing an entire humble pie. “I see.”
“And I certainly don’t want to go this way, but I’ve already checked with my lawyers, and I have the legal right to terminate your contracts right now. Or you can investigate this. My hope is the latter might lead to something significant.”
Jason eyed the grooves in the teak deck. He couldn’t believe it. It was over. Just like that, a glass of ice water to the face. He’d just wasted five entire years of his life. He could hardly think. But he somehow managed to consider what Ackerman was proposing. A stockier version of a manta with large eyes? Possibly a new species? So what. Jason hadn’t tested the job market in years, but he wondered if UCSD had any new research grants. Or maybe another university. He wasn’t wasting more time on Ackerman’s wild-goose chase.
He looked out at the ocean, the tropical blue plain. He’d miss it. Then he noticed Monique. She looked… different, not laid-back at all. She had tears in her eyes, a dab of black mascara dripping onto her shirt’s collar, and was clutching her husband’s hand tightly. Son of a bitch! Money had never been Jason’s primary motivation, but his coworkers… They had bills to pay, rent checks and lease payments for apartments and cars they never used. And the Hollises wanted to start a family soon. While the concept of family was foreign to Jason—he didn’t even have a girlfriend—Monique and Darryl were very much planners, and they’d been socking away large portions of every direct deposit to provide for their unborn kids. They were highly educated, both with PhDs in oceanic migration from USC, but if Lisa was right… if the job market really was that tough, and they both suddenly lost their jobs…
Darryl smirked at Craig. “Are there any American unemployment offices in Baja?”
Craig started to return the crack when Monique glared at him through wet eyes. He shut up. So did Darryl.
Jason exhaled. He wanted nothing to do with this new project, not a goddamn thing. But the Hollises were his friends…. “Monique, what do you want to do here?”
“Oh.” Monique wiped her eyes and gathered herself. “Excuse me. Well, I’ll do whatever you want, Jason, you know that. But if Mr. Ackerman thinks we should look for this new species near Clarita, than I think we should seriously consider it.”
“Me too.” This had come from Craig now, with as stern a look on his face as Jason had ever seen, a look that said, Don’t fuck my friends. Then Craig’s cell started ringing, and he answered.
Jason turned. “You too, Darryl?”
“Yeah.” Darryl’s face was blank, his normal joviality gone.
“Lisa?”
“Definitely.”
Ackerman eyed the happy puppy. “How about you, Phil?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Ackerman, I’d love to.”
They all turned to Jason.
And Jason felt like screaming. One dull pain was about to be replaced by another. He nodded, his face as blank as a cement wall. “We’ll get started right away.”
Just then, Craig hung up and Jason immediately noticed that he looked a little stunned. “What is it, Craig?”
“There was another sighting off Clarita Island.”
“Of what?”
“Little rays trying to fly. Thousands of them.”
CHAPTER 7
“THOUSANDS?”
Summers nodded. “Some Santa Cruz colleagues of mine are doing a project up there, testing crustacean breeding habits. An elderly couple from Europe said that’s what they saw.”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “They said they were flying?”
“Trying to. Leaping from the sea anyway.”
Jason paused. This sounded like another version of the phenomenon he’d seen right here in Mexico. “What did they look like?”
“They just said small rays. It was from a distance with binoculars.”
“Can we talk to them?”
“They left today, and my friends didn’t get their names.”
Lisa shrugged. “It was probably just a bunch of the same bat rays.”
It had to be, Jason thought. Though he’d never heard of that many bat rays leaping from the sea. Thousands?
“Whatever they were, this sounds promising.” Ackerman turned. “So you’ll get started right away, Jason?”
The blank stare returned. “Of course.”
“Excellent.” Ackerman wondered if it was just bat rays up there. But if it was something else… Financing the discovery of a new species could be significant. As trophies went, it could be sophisticated, too, considerably more so than, say, winning the America’s Cup and dumping overpriced champagne into the sea with bought-and-paid-for professional sailors. The backer of a new species discovery. That had panache. “Hopefully, it will be a new species. We’ll see. Phil, give me a hand, please?” A minute later, the rich man was gone.
“Damn it.” Phil Martino still had the leather day planner in his hands. “Jason, he forgot this.”
Jason nodded distantly. “Hold on to it. Darryl, you and Monique chart the course to Clarita. We’ll go when it’s dark….” He turned to go below deck but—
“Sorry I lost my cool there, Coach.” Monique hugged him. “I know this is the last thing you wanted. I’m very grateful, Jason.”
“No problem. I’m sorry we had to go through it.” He broke the hug. “Take it easy, OK?”
As he started to go below deck, Darryl slapped him on the back. “Future generations of Hollises thank you too.”
The couple chuckled, but as Jason went downstairs he was unable to focus on their relief. What he’d been dreaming of every waking moment for the past five years was suddenly over. Justify the failure with a philosophy, he told himself. Something like “it wasn’t meant to be” or “things happen for a reason.” He felt like crying. Was this happening for a reason? Maybe there really was a new species out there, maybe even a significant one. Yeah, right. He went below deck and disappeared.