Sandecker slid into one of the leather chairs, dropped an ash from his cigar into a dish made from an abalone shell and flattened a chart of the Weddell Sea and the Antarctic Peninsula on the surface of the table. He tapped his finger on a marked circle with a series of small red crosses drawn within its circumference and labeled by number. "Gentlemen, you're all familiar with the tragic situation in the Weddell Sea, the latest in a series of kill sites. Number one is the position where Ice Hunter found the dead dolphins. Two, the seal kills off South Orkney Island. Three, Seymour Island, the site of mass slaughter of men women, penguins and seals. And four, the approximate position of Polar Queen when the scourge struck."
Yaeger studied the perimeter of the circle. "Looks to be about ninety kilometers in diameter."
"Not good," Gunn said, a deep frown creasing his forehead. That's twice the size of the last kill zone, near Chirikof Island off the Aleutians.
"The count was over three thousand sea lions and five fishermen in that disaster," said Sandecker. He lifted a small remote control from the table, aimed it at a panel in the far wall and pressed a button. A large screen slowly dropped from the ceiling. He pressed another button and a computer-generated chart of the Pacific Ocean appeared in three-dimensional holograph. Several blue, neonlike globes, displaying animated fish and mammals, were projected seemingly from outside the screen and spaced in different areas of the chart. The globe over Seymour Island off the Antarctic Peninsula as well as one near Alaska included human figures. "Until three days ago," Sandecker continued, "all the reported kill zones have been in the Pacific. Now with the sea around Seymour Island, we have a new one in the South Atlantic."
"That makes eight appearances of the unknown plague in the past four months," said Gunn. "The occurrences seem to be intensifying."
Sandecker studied his cigar. "And not one lead to the source."
"Frustration is mine," Yaeger said holding his palms up in a helpless gesture. "I've tried a hundred different computer-generated projections. Nothing comes close to fitting the puzzle. No known disease or chemical pollution can travel thousands of miles, pop up out of the blue and kill every living thing within a limited area, before totally vanishing without a trace."
"I've got thirty scientists working on the problem," said Gunn, "and they have yet to stumble on a clue indicating a source."
"Anything from the pathologists on those five fishermen the Coast Guard found dead on their boat off Chirikof Island?" asked Sandecker.
"Preliminary postmortem examinations show no tissue damage from poison, inhaled or ingested, nor any fast acting disease that's known to medical science. As soon as Colonel Hunt over at the Walter Reed Army Medical Center has completed his report, I'll have him call you."
"Dammit!" Sandecker burst out. "Something killed them. The skipper died in the wheelhouse, his hands gripped on the helm, while the crew went down on deck in the act of bringing in their nets. People just don't drop dead without cause, certainly not hardy men in their twenties and thirties."
Yaeger nodded in agreement. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place. It has to be something we haven't considered."
Sandecker idly stared at his cigar smoke as it spiraled toward the paneled ceiling. He seldom laid all his cards on the table, preferring to turn them over slowly, one at a time. "I was talking to Dirk just before our meeting."
"Anything new at his end?" asked Gunn.
"Not from the biologists on board Ice Hunter, but Dirk has a theory, pretty farfetched he admits, but one none of us had thought of."
"I'd like to hear it," said Yaeger.
"He came up with a type of pollution."
Gunn looked at Sandecker, his eyes skeptical. "What type of pollution could he possibly suggest that we missed?"
Sandecker grinned like a sniper sighting through his scope. "Noise," he answered flatly.
"Noise," repeated Gunn. What kind of noise?"
"He thinks there might be deadly sound waves that travel through water for hundreds perhaps thousands of miles, before they surface and loll everything within a certain radius." Sandecker paused and studied his subordinates for their reaction.
Yaeger was not a cynical man, but he inclined his head and laughed. "I'm afraid old Pitt is hitting his special brand of tequila too hard and too fast."
Oddly, there was not a hint of doubt on Gunn's face. He peered intently at the projected image of the Pacific Ocean for a few moments. Then he said, I think Dirk is onto something."
Yaeger's eyes narrowed. "You do?"