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of the Aquarium. She sighed with relief when she spotted two male volunteers in Aquarium logo shirts waiting at the black iron gate.
    “Hey Favel! I sure am glad to see you,” Toy called out as she hopped from the cab of the truck. Her gym shoes landed with a soft thud on the cement. “We had a heck of a time hoisting Big Girl into the crate for the trip in.”
    “Big Girl?” Favel’s white hair was like snow on top of a tall mountain and made all the more striking by his deep tan. He was typical of the dedicated volunteers who spent as much time working at the Aquarium as the hired staff. Favel had been a diver since the Aquarium opened. Retired, he had to be forty years older than Irwin, a baby-faced college student majoring in marine biology.
    “That’s what we call the loggerhead. When you try and lift her, you’ll know why.” Toy turned and made quick introductions to Cara and Brett.
    “Ethan isn’t too happy that you’re bringing this turtle into his domain, you know,” Favel told her in a low voice.
    “He isn’t?” she asked, feeling a sudden stab of nervousness.
    “You know how fanatic he is about cross contamination,” he replied. “And, the fact that no one consulted him.”
    She swallowed hard, feeling her insecurity about bringing the turtle into the Aquarium as a lump in her throat. “Well, Jason approved it.”
    “Right,” Favel said, acknowledging Jason as the last word. “So, let’s give this turtle a room at the inn.”
    Brett helped the two men load the heavy crate onto a rolling cart. Toy followed them as they rolled it toward the lower dock entrance of the building. Toy didn’t have much occasion to come to the cavernous port entry. Down here, enormous, monolithic cement pilings rose to form the underpinning of the Aquarium. Charleston Harbor flowed in and out of giant square bins, rising and falling with the tide and filling the air with the pungent scents of mud and salt. The raucous cry of gulls and the horn of the tour boat, Spirit of the Carolinas, sounded in the distance. The wild sea hovered at the precipice of the great Aquarium.
    Inside the Aquarium the basement literally thrummed with power. Giant pipes and wires snaked along the ceiling. Red painted pumps, shiny black valves and rows of gray steel fuse boxes lined the walls. She followed the cart to the huge industrial service elevator and pushed the button for the third floor where Jason told her a holding tank would be waiting. She clenched and unclenched her fists as the elevator crawled slowly upward, worried about Ethan’s reaction. She hoped that the others did not sense her nervousness. At last the elevator steel doors yawned open and they stepped out into another world.
    The Great Ocean Tank, which the staff simply called the GOT, extended over two levels of the Aquarium and held 380,000 gallons of water and hundreds of animals and plants. From the public’s side, the great tank provided breathtaking views of the sandy sea floor, the rocky reef, and the deep ocean to the public. Here at the top of the tank, however, behind the curtains, it was markedly different from the gleaming, light-filled rooms the public saw. Back here was the heart of the exhibit.
    The top of the GOT was rimmed with ceiling-to-floor black curtains on one side, like a wall of starless night separating the exotic world that lived in the ocean tank from the utilitarian world of giant pumps and filters behind it. Pipes and valves connected to cavernous filtration tanks pumped salt water in and out of the tank like major arteries and veins to the heart.
    Behind the GOT were several smaller tanks. These held quarantined fish, hospitalized fish, and back-up stock to replenish the main exhibit. She knew most people didn’t have a clue how much effort went into caring for a major Aquarium. It truly was manipulating a world for the animals.
    And this world was the realm of Ethan Legare.
    “Where is Ethan?” she asked, looking around as they