"Crazy!" Austin said, summing up his reaction. "Hell, those whales never hurt anyone. You know that. You've sailed the sound since you were a kid. You ever hear of anything like that happening?"

"Nope," Kurt said. "Orcas seem to like being around humans, which has always puzzled me."

Austin replied with a loud guffaw. "That's no mystery. They're smart, and they know that we're badass predators just like them."

"The only difference is that they kill mainly for food."

"Good point," Austin said. He went to pour another shot, which Kurt waved off. He knew better than to try keeping up with his father.

"You know everyone in Seattle. Ever come across a bald guy with a spider tattoo on his head? Probably in his thirties. Dresses like a Hell's Angel, in black leather."

"The only one who meets that description is Spiderman Barrett."

"Didn't know you were into the comics, Pop."

Austin's face crinkled in laughter. "Barrett's a whiz kid computer geek who made it big out here. Sort of a minor-league Bill Gates. Only worth three billion bucks, maybe. He's got a big house overlooking the sound."

"I feel for him. Do you know him personally?"

"Only by sight. He was a fixture on the local nightclub circuit. Then he dropped out of circulation."

"What's with the head art?"

"Story I heard is that when he was a kid, he was a big Spiderman fan. Cut his hair, had his scalp tattooed and let his hair grow back; As he got older and started to go bald, the tattoo showed, so he shaved his head. Hell, with the kind of money Barrett has he could decorate his body with the Sunday funnies and nobody would blink an eye."

"Eccentric or not, he saved me from becoming whale bait. I'd like to thank him, and apologize for commandeering his boat."

Austin was about to tell his father about the metal structure on Barrett's boat, but a crewman came into the cabin and announced, "Someone from Fish and Wildlife is here."

A moment later, a petite, young, dark-haired woman dressed in the green uniform of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service entered the cabin. She was in her mid-twenties, although her black-rimmed glasses and serious expression made her look more mature. She identified herself as Sheila Rowland, and said she wanted to ask Kurt about his whale encounter.

"Sorry to barge in on you," she said in apology. "We've closed off further kayak expeditions in Puget Sound until we can get to the bottom of this incident. Whale watching is a big part of the local economy, so we've put the investigation on the fast track. The vendors are starting to scream about the ban, but we can't take chances."

Austin told her to take a seat, and Kurt went through his story for a second time.

"That's so strange," she said with a shake of her head. "I've never known orcas to hurt anyone."

"What about attacks in marine parks?" Kurt said.

"Those are whales that are held in captivity and put under pressure to perform. They get angry at being cooped up and overworked, and sometimes they take out their frustrations on the trainers. There have been a few cases in the wild where an orca has grabbed a surfboard, thinking it's a seal. Once they discover their mistake, they've spit the surfer out."

"I guess the whale I encountered didn't like my face," Austin said with dry humor.

Rowland smiled, thinking that with his bronzed features and intense, light blue eyes, Austin was one of the most attractive men she had ever met. "I don't think that's the case. If an orca didn't like your face, you wouldn't have one. I've seen a whale toss round a five-hundred-pound sea lion as if it were a rag doll. I'll see if there is any video coverage of the incident."

"That shouldn't be a problem, with all the cameras focused on the race," Kurt said, "Is there anything you could think of that would stir up the whales and make them more aggressive?"

She shook her head. "Orcas have extremely fine-tuned sensing systems. If something gets out of whack, they might want to take it out on the nearest object."

"Like the overworked whales in the marine parks?"

"Maybe. I'll talk to some cetologists and see what they have to say." She rose and thanked the two men for their time. After she left, Austin's father went to pour another round, but Kurt put his hand over the glass.

"I know what you're doing, you old fox. You're trying to shanghai me onto one of your salvage ships."

Kurt Senior had made no secret of his desire to lure his son from NUMA and bring him back into the family business. Kurt's decision to stay with NUMA rather than take over the reins of the business had been a sore point between the two men. Through the years, what had been a bitter source of friction became a family joke.

"You're turning into a sissy," Austin said with mock disgust. "You've got to admit that NUMA hasn't cornered the market on excitement."

"I've told you before, Pop. It's not all about excitement."

"Yeah, I know. Duty to country and all that. Worst thing is, I can't blame Sandecker anymore for keeping you in Washington now that he's vice president. What are your plans?"

"I'll stick around a couple more days. I've got to order a new kayak. What about you?"

"Got a big job raising a sunken fishing boat off Hanes, Alaska. Want to come along? I could use you."

"Thanks, but I'm sure you can handle the project yourself."

"Can't blame me for trying. Okay, then, I'll buy dinner."

Austin was sawing through a manhole-sized slab of beef at his father's favorite steak house when he felt his cell phone vibrating. He excused himself and took the call in the lobby. Looking at Austin from the video phone's tiny display screen was a dark-complexioned man with thick black hair combed straight back. Joe Zavala was a member of Austin's Special Assignments Team who had been recruited by Sandecker right out of the New York Maritime College. He was a brilliant marine engineer whose expertise in designing submersibles had found a ready niche at NUMA.

"Glad to see you're still in once piece," Zavala said. "The orca attack on your kayak race is all over the news. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. In fact, you might say I had a whale of a time."

Zavala cracked the tips of his lips in a slight smile. "I lead such a dull life. Who else but Kurt Austin could turn a charity kayak race into a life-and-death struggle with a bunch of loco killer whales?"

"The last time I looked you were well along in your goal of dating every eligible woman in Washington. I'd hardly call that dull."

The gregarious Zavala was much in demand by many of the single women around Washington who were attracted by his charm, his soulful dark brown eyes and Latin good looks.

"I'll admit that life can get interesting when I run into an old date when I'm out with a new one, but that's nothing compared to your race. What happened?"

"I'm having dinner with my father, so I'll have to fill you in when I get back in a couple of days."

"Looks like you'll be back in Washington sooner than that. We've been ordered to sail out of Norfolk tomorrow night. Do you know Joe Adler?"

"The name sounds familiar. Isn't he a wave guy out at Scripps?"

"He's one of the foremost ocean wave experts in the world. We're going to help him find the Southern Belle."

"I remember reading about the Belle. She's the big containership that went down last March."