This post was contributed by a community member. The views expressed here are the author's own.

Health & Fitness

'Summer of the Shark' Chapters 90-92

Is there a shark in Candlewood Lake? There is in "Summer of the Shark," which takes place in a lake just like Candlewood. The story continues weekly Sunday mornings.

Chapter 90

A week later Piccolo was ready to make an attempt to capture the shark. The weather was right and a check of the Shores showed no FBI vans monitoring a signal from eighty two North Lakeshore. Pasternak’s car was parked in the driveway.

Piccolo told his staff that he and Tillitson were again taking the morning patrol and it would be the only daylight one. After dark they would do one more. The boat would stay at Dawes Marina overnight.

Piccolo then made a call to FBI special Ken Auletta in Hartford. He told him he would have a proposal for Director Fritch regarding the shark later in the day. Auletta asked specifics but he didn’t give him any. “Just alert him that I’ll be calling,” Piccolo told him. “I think he’ll be glad to hear from me.”

Find out what's happening in Stamfordwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

At ten o’clock sharp they started their patrol from the Lake Authority dock. When they passed by Pasternak’s house, his car was still there. Hopefully it would remain there.

Just a few minutes later they pulled the boat into Dawes Marina that was closed every Tuesday. Tillitson’s department SUV was waiting there. They took the remote plane from it and brought it down to the boat. Piccolo checked the plane’s engine to make sure it started.

Find out what's happening in Stamfordwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

“You know Roy, we could still take a chance and have a couple of agents with you,” Piccolo said once they had everything they needed in the boat including a twelve gauge and a thirty caliber rifle.

“Yeah but then the cat’s out of the bag as far as the shark’s concerned. No way. I can handle it alone. “

“You’re sure.”

“No problem.”

“Stay in touch on the phone.”

“Don’t worry. You just be careful yourself.”

“Thanks.”

They left each other with a handshake. Tillitson got into the SUV and drove away.

Piccolo waited a few minutes then moved the boat out of the marina to a point near the northern end of Arrowhead Shores, about a quarter mile from Pasternak’s house. He idled the plane’s engine and called Tillitson.

“Where are you now?” he asked.

“I’m in position at the Shores entrance.” Tillitson checked Pasternak’s house with his binoculars. “His car is still in the driveway.”

“Good. I’m launching the plane.”

Piccolo put the plane in the water alongside the boat and started the engine.  He taxied it across the calm water, pulled back on the joystick and it lifted into the air. Banking it to the left, he sent it on a course that would put it over the lake near Pasternak’s house.

*

Pasternak heard the whine of the plane.

He had destroyed that thing last summer and now it was back. He looked at it through high powered binoculars used to scan the lake. It was the same damn plane. Just like last summer he couldn’t chance the radio signal interfering with the shark. He would destroy it again, not just for that reason but for others. This was an opportunity to use his new signalling device to fully operate the shark without being detected by FBI monitoring vans. Also, it would show that the shark once again was still hunting prey on the lake. He was still the master of Arrowhead. He had not gone away.

Pasternak went downstairs, unlocked the door to his basement control room and went inside. He flicked on the dim red lights that gave him illumination to work without interfering with the images on the two screens. His heart beat faster as he flicked switches on the control board. He was becoming the shark once again and he loved it.

The first thing to do was check and see if the FBI was still monitoring him. Indicator lights affirmed they were. Now he switched on the newly developed signal to the shark. There was no interference with the monitoring signal. The FBI didn’t know the shark was being operated.

He was pleased with his success. What the FBI considered state of the art surveillance equipment was useless junk against him.

Pasternak started the shark’s electric engine and slowly eased it out of the culvert pipe in the boathouse. As the dorsal fin received the one hundred and sixty megaherz signal from the high antenna on his roof, the shark moved into Echo Bay.

*

Piccolo banked the remote plane into a left turn and went to straighten it out. The plane wouldn’t level off. He moved the controller again with his thumb…nothing. He tried to increase power…no response. He looked up and saw the plane slowly spiralling down to the water.

Good. His heart beat faster. This was exactly what had happened to Lee Hanrahan and what he had hoped for. It meant Pasternak had launched the shark and the signal to it had overwhelmed his to the plane.

He called Tillitson on his cell phone.

“Roy…”

“Yeah.”

“The plane’s lost power. He’s running the shark. Go in now.”

“I’m on the way.”

*

Pasternak had the shark running full speed toward the plane, which he now saw through the eyes of the shark. How good it felt to actually become this massive animal again speeding toward its prey. Even though it wasn’t human flesh, closing in on a kill of any kind sent a thrill through him.

The shark was running on the new signal perfectly. He was twenty feet from the plane closing fast. He opened the jaws wide staying above the surface. The plane filled the two screens in front of him; the eyes of the shark. A squeeze of a trigger slammed the jaws shut and he heard the crunching of plastic as the plane broke into pieces.

*

Piccolo moved the boat slightly around the entrance to Echo Bay to better see the plane in the water. Through his binoculars he saw the shark’s dorsal fin on the surface as the shark headed for it. It was moving quickly with the thin line of a wake behind it. Then its jaws snapped opened and the plane was destroyed immediately.

Tillitson should be inside the house by now. With the motor idling, he waited for his call.

*

Tillitson had hoped for an easy entry into the house, but the door was dead bolted. Normally a hydraulic battering ram would be used but one man couldn’t operate it. The plan had been simply to blow the lock away. There wasn’t any time to lose now. The shark was out on the water and it was dangerous. He fired two shots into the bolt and the door opened.

*

Pasternak turned the shark around for another pass at the plane but saw it was totally destroyed; most of it having sunk below the surface. He stopped and listened. Where was the person who had launched it? The last time he had come out in a boat to try and retrieve it. Would he be foolish enough to try it again? He adjusted his sonar earphones and listened again, this time carefully watching the sonar waves being sent out ahead.

Yes, there were blips on the sonar screen and he heard the revolutions of an idling motor. He turned the shark slowly to get a fix on the direction. East…ninety-two degrees…four hundred yards. As he turned in that direction, he heard the motor sound increase in the phones, but not the shots fired by Tillitson into his front door.

 

*

 

Piccolo saw the dorsal fin turn through his binoculars. The shark was moving again…in a new direction….towards him.

He was in a twenty foot patrol boat which weighed over a thousand pounds out of the water. But Hal Evers and Jerry Wright had been in a large fishing boat that the shark had toppled. His two hundred horsepower engine could easily outrun the shark, but he didn’t want to use it unless he had to. If Tillitson couldn’t get to Pasternak, he wanted to be close enough to destroy the thing by pumping thirty caliber rounds into it.

He kept the cell phone in his hand. Where the hell was Tillitson?

*

Tillitson burst into the house yelling “POLICE.” There wasn’t any answer. With his weapon drawn, he ran through the living room and saw a partially opened door that led downstairs. Bounding down the steps he found himself in a large family room with a bar in the rear.

“POLICE!”

Where the fuck was the door to the control room?

He tried to orient himself to where he was in the house in relation to the top floor. The photographs had shown there were no windows at the rear basement level which was strange for a lakeshore house. The rear was to the back of the bar. Was there a hidden door?

 

*

 

The shark was heading toward Piccolo’s boat at a rate of speed that left a visible wake behind it. He got into the pilot seat and grabbed the thirty caliber rifle. The shark was fifty yards away closing fast. Piccolo took aim and fired two quick rounds. The shark dove underwater.

Where was it now? He couldn’t see it underwater. What direction was it going in? He jammed the throttle down and the boat sprung forward. He turned it sharply and made a sharp half circle to the left then stopped. The shark was still underwater.

Where?

*

Tillitson desperately looked for an outline of a hidden door in the back of the bar among shelves filled with glasses. There wasn’t any. Where was it? It had to be there.

With the nine millimeter Glock in his hand he swept away a shelf full of glasses, but found that half of them didn’t move. They were glued to the shelf. He did the same with the shelf below, sending glass shattering over the bar. Half of them stayed in place. They had to be on the back of the hidden door. He pushed forward.

With the motor idling, Piccolo had the thirty caliber aimed at a spot where he anticipated the shark would surface. It was ahead and to the left. But suddenly the stern of the boat swerved to the right and lifted up at an angle. Piccolo fell backward, his rifle falling to the floor.

The shark was underneath pushing sideways. Piccolo tried to scramble to his feet, but couldn't get his balance in the sharply angled boat. Water was coming over the gunnel on the low side. The shark kept pushing.

 

 

*

 

Tillitson burst into the darkened control room. Pasternak was bent forward at a console moving levers. The red light in the room gave him a maniacal look as he peered into monitors that were the shark’s eyes. He was oblivious to Tillitson who was shouting at the top of his lungs.

 

*

The boat was at a sharper angle now with more water coming over the gunnel. Added weight was drawing the starboard side downward into the water. The more the shark pushed, the more water came in.

Piccolo knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the boat capsized. Then he would be in the water at the mercy of the shark.

But it wasn’t the shark was it. It was Pasternak. He was battling a man, not a vicious creature of the sea. But this man was even more vicious. And smarter. He struggled to his feet to get off another shot just as the shark pushed the boat up higher.

*

Tillitson jammed his Glock against the back of Pasternak’s head.

“Turn it off,” he screamed. “Do it now!”

Pasternak’s hands continued to move the controls. Tillitson looked up at the screen and saw Piccolo’s boat. The underside of it was facing the shark. It was about to go over.

Tillitson threw Pasternak to the floor. The control board was far too complicated to figure out where the power supply was. The only thing not completely attached to it was a joystick controller which he ripped out. But he looked up and the shark was still pushing against the boat.

Frantic, he saw power cables connected to the console plugged into the wall to his left. With his Glock on Pasternak, he pulled them out then pumped five rounds into the console itself.

 

*

 

Piccolo felt the pressure against the bottom of the boat suddenly stop. It slammed down to a level position, water inside sweeping across the floorboards. Piccolo scrambled to his feet and looked over the side. The shark was lying on the surface just a few feet away. Its long gray body was still.

He suddenly realized his engine had quit during the attack. He turned the ignition and thankfully after a few sputters it started. The bilge pump went on automatically and he saw the level of water begin to fall.

His cell phone rang.

“Are you all right?” Tillitson sounded like he was gasping for air.

“Yeah…and you?”

“Okay. I got our friend here cuffed.”

“You got him just in time. I thought I was going for a swim there for awhile.”

“But you’re all right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I send this thing to the bottom. Hold on to Pasternak.”

“Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere.”

Piccolo hung up and grabbed a boat hook. Reaching over the side, he hooked the shark around the dorsal fin and drew it closer to the boat. He examined the fin and found the tiny antenna curved to follow the shape of it. He could see how it wasn’t noticed during any of the attacks.

The shark’s skin was rubbery but also smooth and slick in the water. He ran his hand along the side of the body trying to feel for the maze of electrical equipment inside, but there was no trace of it. Instead, there was a firmness to the skin that was very realistic.

Two years ago he had taken his family to Sea World in Florida and they had swum with dolphins. He remembered the feel of their bodies; taut, slick, somewhat oily. That’s what this felt like. He could see how Pazman and the others who had felt the skin had been convinced it was real.

This was the terrible animal that had terrorized the lake for more than a year. That had ripped through skin maiming arms and legs. The “thing” that had left a horrible impression on his son that threatened to remain with him the rest of his life. All controlled by the man waiting for him now. It would take every bit of composure not to kill him.

He reached into a bag, took a camera from it and photographed the shark from several different angles making sure to show the dorsal antenna prominently in one of them.

Then he took the Winchester and fired two shots into the shark. With the boat hook he pushed downward. Bubbles immediately came up through the holes as the body filled with water. Slowly it sank and Piccolo watched it disappear into the darkness headed for the bottom.

It was gone, never to terrorize Arrowhead again. There were times when he thought this moment would never come, but it had. And now it was finally over. One thing remained. The man responsible had to pay.

Chapter 91

Piccolo motored across Echo Bay and pulled into Pasternak’s dock. He rushed into the house and found him handcuffed to a dining room chair with Tillitson sitting next to him.

Pasternak was shorter than Piccolo had imagined, dressed in a khaki shirt and jeans. He barely acknowledged Piccolo’s presence looking the other way. Piccolo played the ignoring game with him by telling Tillitson what had happened out on the lake. As he did, he couldn’t avoid looking back at the man responsible for Mark’s nightmares. He wanted to reach out and strangle him. In fact that would be too good for him. But somehow he was able to control himself. It surprised him that he could.

“So this bastard tried to get one more victim before he was finished,” Tillitson said getting right into Pasternak’s face. He showed no reaction.

Piccolo motioned for Tillitson to join him in the living room out of earshot of their prisoner.

“Did he say anything to you at all?” Piccolo asked when they were far enough away.

“Not a thing. The sonofabitch clammed up right from the minute I got the cuffs on him.”

“Well you know what…we don’t care about anything he has to say anyway. All I care about is that he’s prosecuted. If Auletta did his job I should be able to get to the Director. The sooner we do that, the sooner we can bargain with them. Agreed?”

Tillitson looked back toward the dining room.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he said.

Piccolo placed the call while Tillitson went back to watch Pasternak. He got Director Fritch on the phone after identifying himself to three different people.

“I understand that you may have information as to who’s responsible for the shark in Arrowhead, Sheriff,” Fritch said.

“I have more than information,” Piccolo replied confidently. “I have the man himself.”

Piccolo thought he heard a slight gasp on the line.

“And who might that be?”

“You know goddamned well who it might be,” Piccolo thought to himself, “You’ve been keeping it from us for weeks now.”

 “Tom Puckett a.k.a George Pasternak.”

Silence. Then Piccolo heard a muffled sound as Fritch talked to associates that must be in the room with him.

Without waiting for a reply, Piccolo continued. “The same Pasternak that you felt important enough to keep from us to be prosecuted for the crimes he’s committed. The Pasternak who used his radio control expertise to put a mechanical shark in our lake.”

“We weren’t sure that he…”

“Don’t pussyfoot around with me Director. You knew exactly what he was doing as soon as we matched up Thomas Puckett’s DNA with George Pasternak. You just couldn’t link him to the shark with your monitoring trucks all over the place. Well we did. We caught him right at the wheel. Controlling the shark that tried to attack me just minutes ago. Now the thing is on the bottom of the lake and we’ve got your man prisoner right above a room filled with his electronic toys.”

Again silence. He could imagine Fritch in an office where those responsible for failing to gather evidence against Pasternak were sitting.

“George Pasternak is in a Federal Priority Protection Program,” Fritch said finally. “He’s under the jurisdiction of the U.S. government, immune from state prosecution. You know that Sheriff Piccolo. You’re required to turn him over to us immediately.”

“Well I might be able to do that Director Fritch.”

“I would hope so because…”

“But only after I give the press a tour of Mr. Pasternak’s control room, present a computerized image aging Tom Puckett’s MIT graduation picture, which by the way matches his picture in Avionics Industries annual report, and then finally raising the mechanical shark from twenty feet under Arrowhead for them to see.” He paused, and then added, “I’m prepared to do that immediately Director and quite frankly I don’t care about the consequences.”

There was an audible sigh on the line, then…

“Why are you doing this sheriff?”

“Because this man committed a crime and he has to pay the penalty. Beyond that he attacked my son. Would have killed him if he hadn’t swum fast enough. He still lives with that nightmare and probably will for the rest of his life. That’s why.”

Again silence.

Piccolo knew the Director was weighing the consequences of what he had said. He knew the FBI was going to look like a bunch of asses for not having enough evidence to move in on Pasternak. He also knew there was sensitive top secret equipment in the room downstairs that controlled the shark. Finally he knew the interest the press had in the shark from day one. They would be all over this.

“What do you propose then?” Fritz asked, resigned to his situation.

Piccolo had rehearsed the answer to this question a hundred times in his mind and was fully prepared.

“I want a signed affidavit from the Attorney General guaranteeing that George Pasternak will stand trial in a federal court. I’ll forward to you all my evidence that supports his conviction. But I want that affadavit faxed to my office by twelve noon tomorrow or I call the press.”

“You know we can’t get to the Attorney General and have him sign off that quick.”

“Oh I think you can given the consequences.”

“Under the law we can come in there and force you to give Pasternak up. I could send agents on station at the lake right now.”

“I don’t think you could do it fast enough. My deputy has his cell phone ready to call the local media if I tell him to.”

Again a pause and muffled sound as Fritch talked to others in the room. Finally he asked, “Are you sure you can maintain confidentiality in turning Pasternak over to us assuming you get what you want from the Attorney General?”

“None of my deputies or anyone else knows about Pasternak or that the shark in the lake isn’t real. Not even my wife. The only person besides me who knows the truth is Deputy Sheriff Tillitson who’s with me now. We’ve been very careful about this ever since we discovered the shark wasn’t real and the government was involved with Pasternak.”

“And how do you propose to reopen the lake and assure the public that the shark threat has been removed?”

“The same way you were going to do it Director. It’s in a refrigerated truck ready to go. And I’m sending you the bill for it.”

“You’re very thorough Sheriff. I’m impressed.”

“You ought to be.”

They spoke a few more minutes about the content of the fax to be sent by the Attorney General. Piccolo said he wanted updates regularly as soon as Pasternak was indicted, details of his trial and sentencing. “I know the government isn’t going to treat him like an ordinary criminal, but he’s got to serve time for the injuries, both physical and financial that he’s caused his victims,” Piccolo said vehemently. “A slap on the wrist isn’t going to cut it.”

“Well I hope you don’t plan to hold the government hostage as far as his sentencing is concerned,” Fritch countered.

“I want justice commensurate with the crimes Pasternak’s committed,” Piccolo replied. “I won’t accept less and neither should my son and the rest of the victims.”

After he hung up, he went into the dining room. Tillitson was leaning back in a chair with his boots up on Pasternak’s marble topped table. Piccolo was surprised to hear Pasternak speak to him for the first time.

“So when is the FBI coming to take me?” he asked. The tone was both arrogant and confident.

“Soon enough,” Piccolo said sitting down next to him. “but don’t think you’re going to walk away from this Scot free.”

“Oh…so there are conditions.” Pasternak smiled, thinking of the possibilities.

“Yes, but none of them in your favor. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done. I’m going to see to it.”

“We’ll see sheriff, we’ll see.”

Pasternak was about to lapse back into silence again when Tillitson asked him, “All those years, working to avenge your father’s death. Was it really worth it?”

“Yes, the bond between myself and my father was very strong,” Pasternak replied, surprised at the question.

“And so is the bond between my son and me,” Piccolo said quickly. “It’s all about revenge isn’t it. You got it for your father. I’m going to get it now for my son. You made a big mistake attacking him with your shark.”

Pasternak didn’t reply. Suddenly the prospect of paying for what he had done seemed real.

Chapter 92

The night passed slowly. Piccolo and Tillitson took turns sleeping two hours at a time. They both expected the FBI to come crashing in at any time. Director Fritch was absolutely correct. The FBI could override any local law enforcement agency to secure prisoners without a court order.

Piccolo wasn’t sure what he would do if push came to shove. He imagined a face off with each side having to resort to force. That could be dangerous.

What he had on his side was the power of the press, the embarrassment of the FBI and most of all, protecting whatever technical secrets in the shark that involved the Predator aircraft. Apparently they were enough. Dawn came with Pasternak still their prisoner.

After a breakfast of coffee and some pastries Pasternak had in the house, Tillitson continued to watch the street. Piccolo kept one eye on Pasternak and the other on a fax machine in an office just off the dining room. The office clock showed the hours ticking away towards 9 AM. As the deadline drew near Piccolo wondered if he had the guts to really carry out his threat of going to the press. Last night had been a game of poker with Fritch. He hoped he had won.

Just before nine, the fax machine sprang to life. It hummed and clicked as communication was received and finally two sheets of printed paper were expelled from a slot in the bottom. Piccolo anxiously took them from the machine.

The letterhead was the Attorney General’s and the document was addressed to the Fairfield County Sheriff’s Office, Sheriff Gary R. Piccolo.

Piccolo scanned it quickly. Among the legalese of henceforth, whereas, and heretofores was the statement that the government, on the condition of sufficient evidence, would indict George T. Pasternak for real estate fraud, federal charges of stock manipulation and five charges of second degree manslaughter. If found guilty, appropriate penalties for these crimes would be imposed to the full extent of the law. The document was signed by Philip R. Hewlett, Attorney General of the United States.

“Well this is it,” Piccolo said showing the fax to Tillitson. “I think that’s about all we can ask for.”

Tillitson read it through and agreed.

Piccolo went over to Pasternak and held the document out to him.

“This insures that you’re going to spend some time behind bars Pasternak,” he said. “You may be valuable to the government, but not so valuable that you’re above the law. Maybe there’s some people in Washington that don’t agree, but right now the Attorney General does.”

Pasternak didn’t say anything. He thought about the night he ran from his house to see their barn on fire. How his father had come through the fiery barn door with flames licking at his clothing. His arms had flayed in the air, a frantic silhouette in front of the inferno behind him. He had screamed in pain, beating at his own body trying to extinguish the stabbing flames. But he couldn’t escape them. They had engulfed him.

Every night of his life he had suffered the same nightmare and had heard his father’s words. “We know who did this don’t we Tom. We know who’s responsible. And we Puckett’s get even.” Well he had gotten even. Dolan had paid. Norton Utilities had paid. The people on the lake his father had never wanted built had paid. They all had.

The night he found out that Norton had been bankrupted and taken over by Patriot was the first night he hadn’t had the nightmare. Finally he was free.

Tillitson had asked him if it was all worth it. The answer was yes. He had honored his father’s dying wish. It might put him in jail, but at last he was free. 

*

Piccolo made a call to FBI Director Fritch and one hour later a car with two agents in it pulled up to the house. They came inside, identified themselves and took Pasternak. He walked outside to the car without handcuffs. If any neighbor was watching, it looked like he was just going off somewhere with two friends. Little did they know he was the one who had terrorized their lake for over a year.

 

We’ve removed the ability to reply as we work to make improvements. Learn more here

The views expressed in this post are the author's own. Want to post on Patch?