HARD EVIDENCE
Chapter One
Dismas Hardy walked hip-deep in green ice water, his
rubber-gloved hands on the fins of a six-foot white shark.
Outside in the world, it was nearly two o'clock of an
early summer morning, but here at the Steinhart there was
no time. The overhead light reflected off the institutional
green walls, clammy with distilled sea-sweat. Somewhere,
out of the room, a motor throbbed dully.
The only noise in Hardy's world was the steady slush
and suck of the water curling behind him as he walked
around and around, alone in the circular pool.
Pico Morales had called around seven to ask if he felt
like doing some walking. When Pico called, it meant that
some fishing boat had landed a great white shark and had
contacted the Aquarium. The sharks bred just off the Farallons,
and the Steinhart-or Pico, its curator-wanted a live
one badly. The problem was that the beasts became so
traumatized, or wounded, or both, after they were caught,
that none survived. Too exhausted to move on their own,
they had to be walked through the water so that they
could breathe.
It was Hardy's third and la ... read full excerpt from: Hard Evidence ebook
