Climate Killers: Book 3. Bernadette Callahan Detective Series

by Lyle Nicholson

  Morgan shook his head and starred hard at Derman, wondering why he’d ever decided to work with him. He’d discovered him several years back when he was Congressman Derman. He was taking bribes from everyone. It didn’t matter if it was Russians, Chinese or North Koreans. Derman was the man who made the word corruption into a new standard.

  Derman amassed a steady stream of bribes. He had money coming in from everywhere. He could get things done, contracts endorsed, a special meeting with a high-ranking government official that would also take a bribe. What those who bribed Derman loved about him is that he spent the money as fast as he got it. There was never a point where he had enough and walked away. He spent his money on high priced hookers and bad hands of poker. He played high stakes and his losses were big. Morgan couldn’t believe the surveillance reports detailing how much Derman blew at the tables.

  Morgan studied one of his fingernails. Its cuticle looked ragged. He shook his head and flicked a piece of dust off his desk. “I wonder why I keep you out of jail, Derman.”

  Derman looked up. His mouth opened and closed, then his eyes locked on Morgan’s. “We’d go down together—you must know that, a man of your obvious talents.”

  Morgan studied the crumpled little man. He wasn’t so beaten down after all. Derman was in his early seventies. His features were soft, his hair a wispy grey, and he wore glasses of some god-awful new age design in brilliant red that made him look as if he was about to step into the cockpit of a space ship.

  “Hmm, yes, well… we will see…” Morgan let the words trail off. There was no use offending the little turd. He was useful. He’d brought him the craziest scheme Morgan had ever heard of.

  If it came through he would become one of the richest men in America. But he was also dealing with some of the most dangerous organizations from three continents. Any one of them, if crossed, would make sure that whatever the American government did to him would be child’s play. The Americans would throw him in prison. These people were serious. He let himself relax in his chair and smiled at Derman. “Okay, we need to get this back on track. I’ll call Sokolov and make sure he gets the right people in place this time.”

  “I’ve already done it,” Derman said. “He sent a team to the Key West lab where McAllen said Sigurdsson was. They should be there by now.”

  “I expect a better performance this time,” Morgan said.

  “Not to worry,” Derman replied. “Sokolov said this team is ruthless. If they find Sidgurdsson there, he’ll be brought to us. Anyone else will be taken care of.”

  Morgan mused a bit. “We need to clean up the mess from Nicaragua. Winston and Callahan are still alive and I think they’re travelling with McAllen and Sebastian Germaine. I have a way of tracking Winston, but I need to jump through some administrative hoops to get the tracking activated. Once I have it, I want a team put on it.”

  Derman lifted one hand in response. “I’ll have Sokolov deal with it.”

  7

  Bernadette saw high waves and leaning palm trees as they made their descent into Key West International Airport. The jet landed with a hard thump to keep itself from being thrown around in the wind. They taxied to a private charter hanger to deplane. Bernadette noticed beads of water on the cabin window, not from rain but from the ocean—the wind was picking up. They followed McAllen through the terminal and found a waiting SUV. McAllen and Sebastian opened the back. A duffel bag with guns was inside.

  “I guess you didn’t make your reservation with Hertz,” Bernadette said looking over the weapons.

  McAllen handed her a 9 mm handgun and several clips of ammunition. “No, I use my own private members club. I get better air miles.” He passed a handgun to Winston and Sebastian loaded a Berretta submachine gun while pocketing some percussion grenades.

  Winston smiled at the weapons. “I guess you’re expecting the worst scenario, from these FBI guys.”

  McAllen gave a small smile. “I don’t think we tangled with FBI back in Nicaragua. If we had, I think we’d all be dead. I’m pretty sure that was local talent.”

  “What do you think we’ll find at Sigurdsson’s laboratory?” Winston asked.

  “More of the same. But this time we’re ready for them,” McAllen said as he checked the sights on his weapon.

  “Damn straight,” Bernadette said as she put her side arm in her jacket.

  “You know,” McAllen, said, “this is kinda strange—us being on the same side.”

  Bernadette winked at McAllen. “Don’t get too used to it. Remember, I’m still on the side of the law. And you’ve got way too many outstanding warrants for me to ignore when this shit is over.”

  McAllen shook his head and got into the truck. Nothing had changed between them, only the circumstances. She was still an RCMP Detective and he was a wanted criminal.

  The jet they arrived on was already taxiing on the runway to take off as they drove out of the airport. By the time they made the highway it was rising up overhead on its way north.

  “There goes our ride,” Bernadette said. “I heard he’s heading for Atlanta to get away from the storm.

  They went quiet in the SUV as the wind buffeted the windows and spray from the sea hit the windows. Everywhere people were packing up. A long line of vehicles was heading out of the Keys.

  “They know something we don’t?” Winston asked.

  “Yeah,” Bernadette said. “The sea has risen to within its max on the shoreline with global warming. This little piece of land sits only one metre above sea level now. A category 2 hurricane like the one that supposed to glance this place will bring in a four-metre storm surge. They’ll be swamped.”

  “And so will the airport.” Winston said. She looked up at McAllen in the driver’s seat. “I understand you’re a professor of some kind—doesn’t that make you some kind of smart guy?”

  “You’re wondering how I’ll be getting us out of here?” McAllen asked.

  “Yes, you got it.”

  “I’ll let you know—when I know.”

  Winston sat back in her seat and looked at Bernadette. “I told myself, do not get in the truck with these guys. Nothing good will come of this.”

  “Hey, I told you I’d get you back to your son. Relax,” Bernadette told her. She looked out the SUV window at the waves pounding over the sea wall. She did not believe her own words.

  They pulled a hard left once leaving the highway and came to a dock. A group of men and women were lashing wildly rocking boats to the docks as best they could in hopes that they’d be there when they returned.

  McAllen parked beside a 10-metre boat that had a row of dive tanks on it. He jumped out and met with a stocky African American, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and wearing a Miami Dolphins ball cap. They stood, talked for a minute and McAllen motioned everyone to join him.

  “Whoa. What’s with the boat?” Winston asked as she joined the others on the dock. “I thought we were going to a laboratory.”

  “Yes. It’s an underwater laboratory,” Sebastian said. “I think you missed part of the briefing.” He turned to the captain. “This is Captain Darius, and he’ll be taking us on our excursion today.”

  Winston’s eyes went wide. “You want us to go out in this weather in this tiny boat? You must be crazier than you are mad.”

  “Don’t worry,” Captain Darius said. “Once we get out into the ocean, the waves get smaller. The closer you are into shore, the worse the waves.” He looked around at everyone. “Okay, climb aboard. The lab is only five miles out to sea and under 30 feet of water.”

  McAllen and Darius stopped on the dock for a moment. “Have any other dive boats gone out today?” McAllen asked.

  “Yeah, three divers took a boat. They didn’t want a captain, said they had their own. They paid a shit load for it. Gave my cousin Ricky enough to buy a new boat for the rental. You expecting trouble out there?” Darius asked.

  “Maybe,” McAllen said. “Let’s just say, I’ll be adding a whole bunch onto you
r fee if we do.”

  “You’re my man.” Darius gave McAllen a big grin and they shook hands. “The diving business has been crap this year with all the hurricanes. I’m glad you came my way.”

  McAllen nodded his head. “Sure, glad to be of help.” He watched Darius get on the boat and hoped he’d be better luck for him than he had been for himself.

  Winston climbed on board the boat and grabbed a railing to steady her. The boat was rising up and down with every wave that hit the dock. McAllen, Sebastian and Bernadette jumped on and climbed into the wheelhouse with the boat captain.

  Sebastian cast off their lines as the boats twin inboard engines roared into life. The boat hit high waves as soon as it left the shelter of the harbor. Waves sprayed over the side and washed the lower deck. Winston fought hard to keep her feet dry on the lower deck before clambering up the steel stairs to the wheelhouse. The boat rocked more up there but at least it was drier. The next forty-five minutes were brutal. Captain Darius couldn’t increase the speed much over 10 miles per hour due to the high waves. The boat rose up large waves then plummeted down the troughs and up again like a roller coaster.

  Bernadette had been in rough waters on big lakes but this was testing her endurance. She stood on the deck with the others, her legs fighting to stay up as they hit each wave. Her stomach had given up being terrified. She’d thought she’d be sick a few times but didn’t relish the thought of leaning over the railing in high seas. She convinced herself she’d be okay.

  Finally, they hit calmer waters. The waves lessened, the wind seemed lighter and they picked up speed. A large column of clouds appeared on the horizon. The hurricane was heading their way. How much more forceful it would be would depend on how close it got to Key West.

  McAllen turned to Bernadette and Winston. “Do either of you have any diving experience?”

  Winston shook her head. She had a look on her face of absolute fear of anything to do with the water.

  Bernadette paused, looked at the white caps on the waves, “Yeah, I’ve done some resort diving. I’m not PADI certified, but I can do a 30 foot dive.”

  “Good,” McAllen said, “How about if we go below and get suited up. They’ve got a full selection of wetsuits.”

  Bernadette followed McAllen to the lower deck. Under the benches were large clear plastic bins with decals listing wetsuits, masks, snorkels and fins. She found a half suit in her size. She didn’t like the ones with the full legs.

  She went below, stripped naked and pulled the suit on. Although the wetsuit smelled like it had been freshly cleaned, she would rather have had a bathing suit on underneath. She pulled the long zipper up from the back and put her clothes into a dry bag and hung them from the ceiling in the toilet, which is called the ‘head,’ on a boat.

  McAllen stepped out from another small change room. “These things don’t feel the same when you got to go ‘commando’ in them,” he observed.

  Bernadette blushed. “Ah, yeah you got that right.” She instantly felt self-conscious. She shook her head and went back up to the wheelhouse.

  Another dive boat appeared in the distance, bobbing at anchor. They closed on it slowly.

  “Weapons ready,” McAllen said.

  Captain Darius looked at the guns his passengers produced. He maneuvered the wheel and throttles. “Some serious shit about to happen,” he muttered to himself.

  Bernadette felt her pulse quicken. She chambered a round in her 9 mm and took off the safety. The boat came within hailing distance.

  A lone man on board looked up in surprise at their arrival. He didn’t seem to be expecting visitors. There was hesitation in his movements. He looked down in the water at the bubbles from his divers then back at McAllen and his group.

  He made a decision and opened fired with an automatic weapon.

  “Everyone down,” Sebastian yelled. They hit the deck as gunfire racked the side of the metal-hulled boat.

  “Nice welcome,” Bernadette said.

  “Covering fire,” McAllen said as soon as the shooting stopped.

  Bernadette and Winston stuck their guns over the gunwale and fired off four quick shots. McAllen and Sebastian stood up with their machine guns.

  The man on deck was caught in their crossfire. He fell to the deck without firing another shot.

  Darius pulled them alongside. They lashed their boat to it. McAllen jumped on board and examined the dead body.

  “A lot of strange tattoos on this guy. He looks a bit Middle Eastern to me,” McAllen said looking up at the others. “I don’t make him for FBI or CIA.”

  “I think we’re seeing the hired help.” Winston stood over the body with her gun.

  Bernadette walked to the back of the dive boat. “I see three sets of bubbles from divers.”

  “Okay, we got to go down there. That’s our competition for finding Sigurdsson. Winston and Sebastian, you keep watch up here,” McAllen said.

  “Ah, Mac,” Sebastian said, “You got more than divers down there—looks like there are some special visitors prowling around.” He pointed to some fins that broke the surface near the boat.

  McAllen looked over the side. “They’re black tip sharks.” He nodded to Bernadette. “They bother swimmers and spear fisherman. They can be a nuisance when they get curious.”

  “You mean as in taking an exploratory bite nuisance?” Bernadette asked.

  Darius helped her into her dive tank that was harnessed to a large vest called a BCD. The buoyancy control device would help her establish neutral buoyancy once she was in the water.

  “When was your last resort dive?” Darius asked as she tightened up her vest.

  “About two years ago,” Bernadette said.

  “Okay, there’s no Margaritas afterwards, you need to breathe easy or you’ll go through your air too quickly. Just relax.” Darius smiled, placing his big hand on her shoulder. It calmed her down.

  He slipped weights into her weight belt to help her descend, and handed her a mask that had been dipped in a solution to stop it from fogging. She did some tests of the regulator and walked with her fins to the end of the boat.

  McAllen handed her a knife and a spear gun. “Stay close to me and follow my lead. We’ll try to drive those divers to the surface where Sebastian and Winston can take care of them.”

  Bernadette put her regulator in her mouth, nodded and gave him an okay sign by making a circle with her thumb and index finger. The air tasted dry. She had no salvia in her mouth and felt an urge to gag. She stood at the end of the boat for a second. The waves rolled. The boat lifted up high. A deep canyon formed below in the sea. A shark swam by eyeing her. She waited for the boat to drop down again.

  Holding onto her mask with one hand, she put one fin forward and stepped off the boat. She plunged into the water. The coolness of the water shocked her. McAllen was beside her. They gave each other the okay sign and started to descend.

  The water was murky. They could see only three to four metres in either direction. A shark swam into their vision. McAllen waved his spear gun causing it to flick its strong tail and shoot out into the depths. Bernadette squeezed her nose, blew softly and pressurized as they descended. She checked her depth gauge. They’d dropped three metres. The bubbles from the other divers were below them.

  McAllen motioned for them to swim to the right. He didn’t want to come on top of them. He wanted to come at them from the side. A light came into view.

  Bernadette checked her depth gauge, they’d reached eight metres and the light became a series of portholes in a long orange cylinder. A series of slow bubbles rose from it towards the surface.

  They stopped beside some coral and saw three divers outside the cylinder. This was the underwater lab. It was thirty metres long with two hatches. The divers were trying to get into the hatches but seemed to be having problems. Bernadette watched one diver pull something out of large bag. Another diver attached something to a tank. A spark was lit and a bright cutting torch flashed.

&n
bsp; McAllen tapped Bernadette on the shoulder. He pointed off to the left. Two shapes were on the seabed. She could make out the forms of two divers in orange wetsuits with logos similar to that of the lab. A trickle of blood streamed from their necks. Their bodies waved with the current. They were dead.

  A large shadow appeared overhead. Bernadette looked up to see a big shark circling. Obviously attracted by the blood, it was cautious due to the activity of the other divers. Now, Bernadette realized why the sharks were around.

  Bernadette looked back at McAllen. She could see the determination in his eyes. She waited for him to make a move.

  McAllen motioned to Bernadette they needed to attack. He kicked hard with his fins and charged at the divers. Bernadette followed. She had her spear gun but couldn’t shoot with McAllen in front.

  One of the divers looked up, saw McAllen and Bernadette. He pounded on the shoulders of the other two divers to get their attention. The other two turned. One raised up his spear gun shooting at McAllen. It missed him and came at Bernadette. She felt it go over her head where it clanged on her tank’s regulator.

  McAllen grabbed for the diver’s mask. The diver pushed his hand away revealing a knife in his other hand. McAllen grabbed the knife and forced it back into the diver’s throat. He pushed it hard until the diver went still. A stream of blood rose from his throat.

  Bernadette swam at the other diver and raised her spear gun. The diver knocked it down. He lunged at her with a knife. She grabbed the arm with the knife. She felt him overpowering her. The knife was edging towards her air hose. She pushed back as hard as she could.

  McAllen picked up the spear gun. His only shot was the diver’s legs. He fired, hitting him in his thigh, it began streaming blood. He turned from Bernadette, kicking for the surface.

  The diver with the cutting torch waved the torch at them to ward them off. The torch could cut through metal—it could slice through them in seconds. They were in a stand-off.