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Kurt, Joe, and Paul sat pensively as the company line was laid out. Only Gamay seemed interested in arguing. Then again, it was her work that had been blown up with an incendiary grenade.
“The official position is as follows,” they were told. “We detected no bacteria or viral infection in any of the dead animals.”
“Technically that’s true,” Gamay said sarcastically, “but only because we never got a chance to test any of the samples.”
“Do not mention that to the press,” Lacourt said. “Or to anyone else.”
Gamay fumed, but Kurt nodded for all of them. “Please continue.”
“The carcasses were marked for burning before the citizens took things into their own hands, and would have been destroyed anyway. The fires were sufficiently hot to kill any pathogens that were not discovered. And while the riot is a regrettable incident and those involved will be prosecuted, we know now that it was instigated by outside sources. Specifically, the foreign terrorist who attacked the lab and was then chased along the highway.”
Kurt had no problem signing off on that part, either.
Joe agreed. “Calm the public; good start.”
Gamay continued to take issue. “On what basis do you come to any of those conclusions? Fact is there were signs of infection in the dead animals. The fires may or may not have destroyed all the evidence. We should be taking more samples. As for the terrorist claim, I suppose a man throwing explosives labels himself, but what makes it okay to suggest he was a foreigner?”
“He spoke English when he jumped off the viaduct,” one of the prefect’s assistants said emphatically. “That makes him a foreigner. Like the rest of you.”
Lacourt held up a hand. He didn’t want to start a grudge match. He still appreciated the efforts the Americans had made. Both in saving the animals and trying to keep the terrorist from escaping.
“No need to fight between ourselves,” he began, “but we must bend to reality. There are rumors and faked videos going around suggesting you and the other biologists were seen injecting the dead animals with some type of serum. We are debunking them, proving that the videos were run in reverse and that the other images were faked, but it takes a while to get through to people. The fact that you’re Americans plays against you on this. Your presence is suspicious, especially on a French island.”
Kurt had to laugh.
Gamay’s eyes grew wide with indignation. “What about the investigation?”
“It will continue without you,” Lacourt insisted. “Though we don’t believe it will amount to anything. Whales have been beaching themselves for millions of years, since long before humans were here. This is just a dark quirk of nature. Your assistance in mitigating it has been appreciated, but it’s over now and your help is no longer required.”
Gamay’s jaw clenched. Paul matched her with an irritated frown.
Joe just shook his head. “How’s that for a hearty thank-you?”
Kurt felt differently. In fact, the way he saw it, the sooner they got away from the prefect’s office, the politicians, and the press, the easier their job would be. “Sounds good to me. Give us a boat, and we’ll be off the island by morning.”
“A boat?” Lacourt said suspiciously.
Kurt nodded. “The answers we’re looking for aren’t here on your island. They’re out there…in the sea.”
Chapter 12
Wearing maintenance uniforms, the NUMA crew snuck out through the back of the admin building and past the throngs of press without being seen. They were driven to Saint-Paul, where they set themselves up at one of the island’s hotels.
After checking into a pair of rooms and tossing their gear in various corners, they reconvened to discuss their next steps.
Gamay, however, wasn’t quite done discussing the events of the afternoon. “You traded our freedom of speech for a boat,” she began, laying into Kurt. “We’re only a worldwide nautical organization with hundreds of them at our disposal.”
Kurt had to grin. Gamay was a stickler for doing things a certain way. “Our nearest research vessel is five days’ sailing from here. I’d rather slip out of here by nightfall than sit around for the better part of the week.”
A moment of quiet suggested she found this to be logical. “And once we get this boat, where do we go and what do we look for?”
“We backtrack along the path of the stranded animals.”
“It’s the ocean, Kurt, it’s not a dusty trail covered in footprints.”
Kurt laughed, which only seemed to make Gamay madder. He was exhausted, dirty, and starving. He’d barely eaten for two days. “Joe willgive you the answer to that,” he said, opening the minibar and breaking into a container of cashews that would set him back half a day’s pay.
Joe was setting up shop at the small desk against the wall. He’d opened his laptop, logged in to the Wi-Fi, and was now tapping away at the keys. “We keep calling this a stranding,” he began, “but strandings are almost always done by a single species of whale, a single pod or family. Not a bunch of different animals, half of which don’t tend to get along.”