Leviathan

As he looked around at his hardworking department, he stood, his long lab coat slipping into the foot-deep water. As he took a step forward to announce to his team the suspension of the search, his foot came into contact with something that moved on the vault floor. He rolled up his already wet sleeve, reached into the water, and pulled the object free. As he lifted it, he could see it was hardened rubber. He turned it over in his hand until he recognized it for what it was--part of the outer casing for one of the batteries once encased in the bottom of the hull. He looked at the tables in front of him and saw what was left of the three hundred batteries. For the most part, they had been reduced to blackened and hardened lumps by fire and explosion.

"A shame, for someone to have invented batteries like these years before the advent of electrical power. Well--just a shame," he mumbled as he placed the melted, smelly piece upon the table.

"Not only that, rubber was hard to come by at the time. It had to come from Southeast Asia, from a plantation in Dutch Indochina, er ... uh, Vietnam," the young technician said as she placed the Leviathanfile next to the rubber.

Ellenshaw stood stock-still as her words soaked in. Plantations?He walked over and picked up the file, splashing dirty water on the young woman as he did.

"These batteries would have had to be designed long before the boat was built, wouldn't you think?" he asked as he hurriedly paged through the open file, his white hair moving as he read snippets of the report.

"I guess so--what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that a mass quantity of rubber would have to have been ordered for experimentation and research--not counting the amount it would take to actually construct them," he said, lowering the file. "It's not here," he said, looking at the far wall lost in thought.

"What's not there?" she asked, stepping up to stand next to him.

"The analysis on the battery casings."

"You mean the rubber?"

"Yes," Ellenshaw said as his gaze wandered the interior of the vault, not settling on any one spot.

The cryptozoologist walked over to the lump of burned rubber and ran his slim fingers over its rough surface.

"Several tons of raw rubber would have been used in the research and construction of the many, many batteries enclosed in the vessel. I'm sure of it, it's so obvious," he said as he finally looked down at his assistant. "Traceable rubber." He smiled for the first time.

"I don't think you can trace rubber, Professor," she said.

"Not the rubber, Miss Birdsong--the research and development, and the plantations that produced it."

"You think you can trace the research and plantations back that far?"

"One thing you can always count on is the fact that companies and universities the world over require data--progress reports for the expenditure of funds--and those reports have to be filed."

"But it's been so long--"

Ellenshaw didn't hear her words as he shot out of the vault and disappeared.

The meeting inside the main conference room on level seven began on time.

"Before we get started, I just overheard several conversations about the kidnapping of our personnel. This has to stop. It may sound cold to many of you, but that train of thinking will just get in our way. It will make you try too hard, press, and believe me, you'll screw up. Now, let's get started."

Pete nodded toward Will Mendenhall, who turned and opened the door for three women to enter the conference room. They were carrying two large plastic containers. They placed these on the conference table.

"This is Professor Angela Vargas, of the physics and nuclear sciences department. She's heading things up in Virginia's absence," Pete explained.

As the young physicist pulled material from the first box, Jack noticed for the first time that Charles Hindershot Ellenshaw III was not present; he never made it back from the burned-out vault area. In addition, Dr. Gene Robbins was missing from the meeting. Collins hoped both men were getting somewhere with their individual assignments.

"This is one of the protective jumpsuits the attackers were wearing, recovered from one of the bodies--the one killed by Lieutenant McIntire," Vargas said as she looked at her notes.

Everett chanced a look over at Jack, but he sat stoically and did not react at all to Sarah's name or her killing of one of the assailants.

"At first glance, we thought it was a standard special forces-issued garment, until we placed it under the electron microscope per Dr. Golding's orders to leave no stone unturned. Well, he was right." She handed the black jumpsuit to Jack. He didn't react to the dried blood. "Colonel, feel the material. What would your opinion be?"

"It feels like standard issue, maybe with some Kevlar weaved in, what we would call Nomex IIIA."

"Very good, Colonel, however you are wrong. Not Nomex, not polyester, not a Kevlar weave." She looked around the room for dramatic effect. "It's seaweed."