Susan Stringer…

Every time he thought of her he was overcome with guilt for having failed to save her. He had told himself that nothing he or anyone else could have done would have freed her from the orca's jaws, but the uncertainty remained. What good were all his papers and articles about intelligence in marine mammals if he couldn't understand a whale's thought processes? Was it possible to convince an orca to let go of its prey?

He reminded himself continually that orcas were animals – highly intelligent ones, but animals all the same. And prey was prey.

But orcas didn't prey on humans. Had the whales eaten the people drifting in the water or just killed them?

Anawak sighed. He wasn't making any progress. The burning in his eyes was getting worse. Half-heartedly he picked up another disk of digital images, then put it back. He couldn't concentrate. He'd spent the whole day at the aquarium, discussing findings or calling people, and now he felt drained. Wearily he switched off his computer. It was gone seven. He got up and went in search of John Ford. The director was in a meeting, so he called in on Delaware, who was studying satellite data.

'Fancy a juicy whale steak?' he asked glumly.

She looked up with a smile in her eyes. She'd swapped her blue glasses for contact lenses, but her irises were still suspiciously violet. Apart from the buck teeth, she was actually very attractive. 'Sure. Where do you want to go?'

'The snack bar on the corner's not bad.'

'Snack bar?' she said in amusement. 'I don't think so. Come on, I'll treat you.'

'There's no need.'

'Let's go to Cardero's.'

'Christ!'

'They do great food.'

'I know, but firstly, I can pay for myself, and secondly, Cardero's is… well, it's…'

'It's fabulous?

Cardero's was situated amid the yachts of Vancouver's Coal Harbour. It was a big place with large windows and high ceilings – one of the trendiest outfits in town. The restaurant offered stunning views and good west-coast cuisine, while the adjoining bar was filled with the young and chic, laughing and sipping drinks. In his frayed jeans and laded sweater Anawak could hardly have been less appropriately dressed, but he always felt uncomfortable and out of place in smart restaurants. He couldn't deny that Delaware belonged there, though.

So, Cardero's it was.

They took his old car and drove to the harbour. They were in luck. It was usually necessary to book at Cardero's, but one table was empty. It was a little removed from the bustle of the main restaurant, which was perfect for Anawak. They ordered the house specialty – salmon baked with soy, brown sugar and lemon on a cedar plank.

'OK,' said Anawak, once their order had been taken. 'What have we got?'

'Nothing,' said Delaware. 'I'm baffled.'

Anawak rubbed his chin. 'Well, maybe I've found something. The video footage put me on to it.'

^'My video footage, you mean.'

'Yes,' he admitted, and added ironically, 'We're all very grateful.'

'Well, you should be, if it's given you a lead.'

'It's the whales we identified. Only transient orcas were involved in the attacks, not a single resident.'

'You're right.' She wrinkled her nose. 'We haven't heard anything bad about residents.'

'The Johnstone Strait was clear of attacks – even though it was full of kayaks at the time.'

'So the threat's being posed by the newcomers.'

'By transients, and maybe offshore orcas too. The grey and the two humpbacks on the video were all transients. All three whales spent the winter in Baja California – we've got it all on file. We emailed pictures of their flukes to the institute in Seattle, who confirmed that the whales have been seen there several times in recent years.'

'So what's the big deal? Everyone knows that greys and humpbacks migrate.'

'Not all of them.'

'I thought…'

'Something weird happened the second time we went out that day. I'd practically forgotten about it after everything else. We were desperate to get the people off the Lady Wexham, but the boat was sinking and a group of greys was trying to ram us. I couldn't see any of us getting out of there alive, let alone saving anyone. Then two more greys appeared alongside us, and lay there in the water until the others backed off.

'Were they residents?'

'Yes. A dozen or so greys stay on the west coast all year round – they're too old for the gruelling journey. When the herds arrive from the south, they make a big show of welcoming the old guard back into the fold. One of the two whales was an elderly grey that lives here. He definitely didn't want to hurt us – far from it. In fact, I think we owe those whales our lives.'

'Unbelievable. To think they protected you!'

'Tut, tut, Licia.' Anawak raised an eyebrow. 'You of all people projecting human intentions on a whale.'

'After what I saw three days ago I'm ready to believe anything.'

'I wouldn't say they actually protected us, but it seemed as though they kept the other whales at bay. They weren't keen on our attackers. All in all, we could reasonably infer that only migrants are affected. No matter which species we're dealing with, the residents appear harmless. They seem to know that the others are deranged.'

Delaware scratched her nose. 'It would fit. A large number of whales went missing in the middle of the Pacific on their way here from California. The aggressive orcas live in the middle of the ocean too.'

'Precisely. So whatever has caused the change in their behaviour, we'll find it – in the deep blue sea, miles away from anywhere.'

'The question is, what?'

'We'll work it out,' said John Ford, who had materialised beside them. He pulled up a chair and sat down. 'The sooner the better – before the politicians and their perpetual phone calls drive me nuts.'

'I NOTICED SOMETHING TOO,' said Delaware, as they were eating their dessert. 'I can see how the orcas might have enjoyed themselves, but it can't have been fun for the others.'

'What makes you say that?' asked Anawak.

'Well,' she said, through a mouthful of chocolate mousse, 'imagine how you'd feel if you kept running into something and trying to knock it over. Or flinging yourself on top of something with lots of hard edges and corners. The chances are, you'd hurt yourself.'

'She's right,' said Ford. 'Animals only hurt themselves for the survival of the species or to protect their young.' He removed his glasses and polished them. 'How about we let our imaginations run wild for a minute? What if the whole thing was a protest?'

'A protest against what?'

'Whaling.'

'Whales protesting against whaling?' exclaimed Delaware.

'Whalers have come under attack in the past,' said Ford, 'usually because they were hunting calves.'

Anawak shook his head. 'You can't seriously believe that.'

'It was just an idea.'

'Not a plausible one, though – it's not even proven that whales know what whaling's about.'

'You mean they don't know they're being hunted?' said Delaware. Crap!'

'I meant that they may not see a pattern,' Anawak retorted. 'Pilot whales always strand themselves on the same stretch of coastline. In the Faroe Islands whole herds are rounded up by fishermen and killed with metal gaffs. It's a bloodbath every time. Then there's Futo in Japan, where countless dolphins and porpoises are slaughtered each year. It's been going on for generations, so they must know what awaits them. But why go back for more?'

'It doesn't seem very smart,' agreed Ford. 'But we're still pumping greenhouse gases into the air and chopping down rainforests, even though we know we shouldn't. And that's not very clever either.'

Delaware frowned and scraped up the last of her chocolate mousse.