Climate Killers: Book 3. Bernadette Callahan Detective Series

by Lyle Nicholson

  “The Littoral Combat ships? The ones that have been plagued with technical bugs and keep having to be towed back to port?”

  “Look, other than that, you got the Coast Guard. They’re busy trying stopping looters from entering the port cities,” Akasawa said.

  “It’s that bad?”

  “You remember when we first did tours in the Gulf of Aden, and there were pirates everywhere trying to board ships?”

  “Oh yeah, I will never forget those days.”

  “This is worse. Every jackass with any size boat can float into a compromised city and start to loot it. I’ve got problems from Chula Beach right into Coronado.”

  “Sorry, I know this is a pain in the ass I’ve handed you, but our Security and Intelligence thinks the people on the yacht might be able to make a difference. You know, like do some cooling of the ocean, and drop the atmospheric temperature.”

  “Holy shit. If you could promise that, I’d divert my carrier task force and every fighter aircraft I’ve got to cover them.”

  “Can’t promise it, it’s a hunch my security guy has.”

  “Is he any good?”

  “Remember that bug that was infecting pipelines and shut down the Mediterranean Sea a year back?”

  “Your guy did that?”

  “No, it was Detective Bernadette Callahan who figured where the antidote was—she’s on the yacht.”

  “Okay, you got your backup. I’ll divert whatever I can to help them out. But I can’t guarantee how well my little boats will do against three Russian Udaloy I Class Destroyers and a submarine. If things get hot for them, I’ll tell them to pull back and let the Airforce handle it.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do your best, that’s all I ask,” Baumgartner said as he ended the call.

  Akasawa called his Petty Officer over to give him instructions. He hoped his best would be good enough. None of this was looking good.

  51

  Bernadette thought the island of garbage was a mirage when she first saw it. It rose like a thin grey line on the horizon. The ocean was dead calm.

  Not a breeze stirred. McAllen slowed their speed to a crawl as they came within view of the mass of plastic refuse the sea had captured into a swirling vortex of currents and made into the fake island that could neither provide life nor give any sustenance to any creature that came upon it.

  “I didn’t realize it was so big and so visible,” Bernadette said as she stared out at the island of floating garbage.

  Samantha came up behind her and put her hand on her shoulder. “Up until this year you wouldn’t have seen this at all. Most of the garbage was below the surface and lot of it was smaller. However, with the rising oceans, millions of tons of debris have floated off the shores and ended up here.”

  “How do we find Sigurdsson and his submarine beneath this island of garbage?” Percy asked walking up to the wheelhouse.

  Bernadette walked over to the helm and gazed down at the stone from the Inuit woman. “What if we used this stone?”

  “How about hanging off the bow with a string tied to it and see if starts to pulse downward, like a person with a divining rod looking for water in the desert?” Percy suggested.

  “That’s a great idea,” Bernadette said. “Get me some strong cord that I can use.”

  Percy grinned. “You know that I was just making a silly suggestion. I had no idea you’d think it would work.”

  “Why wouldn’t it? If the stone came from the headwaters of the River of Thule, then it should point the way to it.” Bernadette’s eyes were wide with excitement.

  Samantha and Becky ran to the lower cabins and came back with some strong cord and a nylon mesh bag. They put the rock into the bag and secured it with a strong bowline knot. Bernadette went to the bow. She lay on her stomach and extended the rock out as far as she could reach. Samantha and Becky held the extra cord to ensure the rock didn’t get loose.

  “Tell McAllen to head slowly into the garbage patch. I’ll relay to Becky when I feel the stone pulse downwards.”

  Percy yelled back to Bernadette, “No worries about McAllen going slow. You see how much garbage is out there? We could poke a hole in this boat with all that floating crap.”

  McAllen threaded the yacht past shipping containers, plastic crates, fishing nets and an entire set of a plastic bouncy castle that was still inflated and bobbed about as if some children would suddenly appear, to spend countless hours playing in it while the parents drank cocktails and ate roasted hotdogs.

  Bernadette’s arms were starting to ache when she felt a strong tug of the stone. She yelled to Becky, “Stop the boat.”

  McAllen put the engine in reverse then to a full stop. The yacht bumped into plastic bottles and a large sign for fish tacos.

  “You think the submarine is under there?” Percy asked staring over the side into the debris and the water below.

  “If it’s drilling near the underwater river, it has to be there,” Bernadette said.

  “Now what? How do we take over a submarine?” Becky asked.

  “With the superior forces of sound and magic,” Sebastian said with a silly grin on his face.

  Sebastian no longer looked stoned. As far as Bernadette could see, his pupils were now a regular size, and his speech wasn’t slurred. He just seemed giddy from the plan he’d formulated.

  “Okay, Captain Nemo,” Bernadette said. “What’ve you got planned?”

  Sebastian licked his lips and rubbed his hands together. “You’re going to love this. We downloaded a whole fleet of warship sounds from the ships computer and made it into a tape. I’ve got submarines and destroyers with their props churning, and pings from the hulls that will make anyone below think they’ve got a whole shit load of trouble bearing down on them.”

  “And why wouldn’t they just cut their power line to the drill rig and run?” Samantha asked.

  “From the information I found on this type of drill, it’s got to be done manually. They attach the power lines on the surface then descend. They’re a sitting duck down there. I lower an underwater sound amplifier and make like they are about to be run over by the American Navy, then we transmit a radio message that we’re about to drop depth charges on them if they don’t surface.”

  “Great, and when they surface and see a yacht, what then?” Becky said. “How many men have they got down there? Aren’t they all armed?”

  “Sure, but we have weapons—and my magic,” Sebastian said with his silly grin going wider.

  “Magic? What magic?” Becky asked.

  “This lovely yacht has a hologram program. I’ve been testing it out overnight. I can make this little luxury boat look like a US Naval Destroyer with the flick of a switch. I’ve never seen anything so amazing.”

  Bernadette put her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Okay, are you sure it wasn’t some really good weed you were smoking last night?”

  McAllen stepped forward from behind the helm. “I can attest to the hologram. This yacht uses a hologram program to disguise it as different sizes of naval warships to scare off any would-be pirates. As long as we have power to the engines the hologram stays secure. I was with Sebastian overnight while he tested it—before he got stoned.”

  Sebastian wasted no time in getting his plan in progress. He had a long cord with an underwater speaker attached. He lowered it over the side and went below to start the sound program.

  Margaret and Grace opened up the arms locker of the yacht handing out automatic weapons. Becky and Samantha wanted a quick lesson on their use but Bernadette put a stop to that.

  “Just point the guns. You’ll get respect. But don’t pull the trigger,” Bernadette said. She didn’t need anyone opening fire by mistake. She made sure the safety was on both weapons.

  McAllen punched in the hologram for a US Naval Destroyer. He decided to go with a replica of the USS Higgins. Once the speaker was in the water McAllen started to broadcast on his radio.

  “Attention unidentified submarine.
You’ve been deemed a threat to our vessels. Our destroyer, the USS Higgins and our submarine USS Jefferson City have targeted you. You will surface or be destroyed. Do you read me?”

  There was no answer on the radio. They could only hear the sound of plastic rustling on the waves around the boat. McAllen repeated his message. There was still silence. Then they felt something. The yacht was moving—its bow began to lift into the air. McAllen ran to the helm to start the engines.

  “The bloody thing is coming up from below us,” McAllen yelled. “Everyone, hold on!”

  52

  There was the sickening sound of metal on metal as the massive submarine rose up from the sea with the yacht caught on its fore deck. The crew of the yacht was thrown back against the plush white leather sofas on the top deck. The drinks carts with silver platters lurched wildly towards the stern spilling ridiculously expensive bourbon in its wake.

  Sebastian and Percy held fast to bar stools and watched in horror as a bottle of fifty-year-old brandy did a header on the deck and exploded into pieces.

  “Such a waste,” Sebastian muttered in the direction of the carnage of liquor.

  The yacht was sliding backwards as the submarine rose. It finally rested; nose high with three quarters of its bulk out of water and nestled against the conning tower of the submarine. Men appeared out of the conning tower of the submarine. They couldn’t believe their eyes. To them, they saw the hologram of a US Naval Destroyer resting on their submarine.

  “What the hell do we do now?” Samantha asked looking at McAllen. She was holding onto the helm with him. The rest of the yacht crew had fallen into the massive leather sofas. They lay there not sure of what to do next.

  “Maybe we get them on the loud hailer and ask them to surrender,” Becky yelled. She was sprawled out on the sofa, with her feet up and a machine gun in her arms.

  McAllen reached for the microphone. He punched the on button and pulled it towards him. “Attention submarine. Come out with your hands up. We have you surrounded.”

  “You mean covered, don’t you?” Samantha said rolling her eyes.

  “That would be too obvious,” McAllen said, holding the microphone away from this mouth.

  The crew of the submarine came out of the conning tower and deck hatches with guns. They looked at what they thought was a destroyer on top of them, dropped their weapons and fell to their knees with their hands up.

  Bernadette pulled herself off the sofa, and with much effort made her way to the railing. “Look, it’s working. They’re surrendering. Get your weapons out and let’s take over that submarine, everyone.”

  A chorus of cheers broke out from the yacht. Sebastian and Percy helped Theo, Margaret and Grace to the railing. They shouldered their weapons and trained them on the captured crew below. There was a feeling of elation from what they had just pulled off.

  Then, the engines shut down.

  “What happened?” Theo asked. His face went from jubilation to shock. “Did we just lose the engines?”

  “Water must have seeped into the engine room,” McAllen said.

  Percy looked at Sebastian, “Does that mean we lost the hologram—?”

  “Yep, and we’re screwed,” Sebastian said.

  The men below saw a sleek yacht replace the naval destroyer and picked up their weapons. Shots rang out. Bullets bounced off of metal bulkheads. The crew of the yacht returned fire.

  “Can we open fire now?” Becky asked Bernadette.

  Bernadette looked at Becky. They were outnumbered four to one by the men on the submarine. She crawled over to her. “Go ahead, pointy end to the front, just like a spear gun.”

  Becky let off two quick bursts of fire that cleared the conning tower. “Like that?”

  “Damn, you’re a natural. Keep their heads down, I’ll see if we’ve got any percussion grenades.”

  She moved down the railing to McAllen. “We got anything besides machine guns? Nothing is going to penetrate that submarine hull.”

  McAllen yelled to Sebastian over the gunfire. “Sebastian. You got anything else? We need magic or a bloody bomb.”

  Sebastian jumped back from the railing just as a bullet hit a bulkhead above him. Paint chips splattered over him. “Why didn’t you say you wanted a bomb in the first place?”

  He lurched along the deck; holding onto whatever he could until he reached the stairs leading down below.

  “You think he’ll come up with something?” Bernadette asked McAllen.

  “I hope so, either that or he’s gone to smoke a joint and get some inspiration.”

  The crew of the yacht had stopped firing. They were getting nowhere. The crew of the submarine had realized the same. Small weapons fire was having no effect on metal hulls.

  “We’re like the old iron warships that met in the American Civil War,” Percy said sitting next to McAllen. When they met the first time none of their armaments could penetrate each other’s armor. The battle ended up a stalemate and they both slunk off back to their lines.”

  “The problem is, we can’t slink off anywhere until we can get rid of this submarine. You think he’ll submerge?” Bernadette asked.

  “He could. Then back up and ram us,” McAllen said. “But they can’t do it with the drilling rig attached to the sub. If we can keep them from getting forward on the deck, they’ll have to stay where they are.”

  “This really is a stalemate,” Bernadette said.

  “Only until we run out of ammunition,” McAllen replied.

  Sebastian appeared with several canisters. “I’ve got it.”

  Bernadette pulled her head back from the railing as a barrage of gunfire ricocheted on the rails making her flinch. “Got what?”

  “I’ve got bombs,” Sebastian said with a noticeable look of glee.

  “What, C-4 explosives? That could harm this boat if you throw that over the side,” Bernadette said.

  “Hell no. This ain’t no C-4. The guys who owned this yacht were rock in roll musicians. This shit is a psychedelic love bomb. It’s filled with Magic Mushroom dust. These guys used to lobe this into their rock concerts so everyone would get stoned,” Sebastian said.

  “But you have no idea how long it would take to have an effect,” Bernadette said.

  “What’s the difference? We could be hung up here on this submarine for hours or days. I figure the dust in this will act pretty fast, otherwise the musicians would never have used it,” Sebastian said.

  McAllen nodded his approval, took a canister, primed it and threw it over the side. It exploded in a cloud of fluorescent colours on the deck of the submarine.

  The men on the submarine stopped firing their weapons.

  Bernadette looked over the railing. The men put down their weapons. They were looking at their hands. Some were wondering around the deck and looking at the plastic garbage on the side of the sub. A few giggled, some sat cross-legged and stared into space.

  “That’s awesome,” Becky said. “Can I throw one?”

  “Sure, knock yourself out,” Sebastian said. “Just make sure to click the primer and give it a good toss.”

  Becky took the canister, clicked the operating primer to one side and took her arm back to make a throw. The canister slipped out of her hand and fell on the deck.

  “Aw shit,” Becky said.

  “Wow, that’s far out,” Sebastian said.

  Bernadette tried not to breathe. She held her breath and crawled backwards, away from the canister. Was it too late? Had she ingested any of the magic mushroom dust? How soon would she know?

  She’d studied hallucinogenic drugs in the RCMP. Magic Mushrooms had hallucinogenic side effects. There was a feeling of oneness with the universe. She remembered reading that surfaces may tend to ripple. How would she know that? What would it look like?

  She looked at the canister. The colours were coming out in waves and patterns. The rest of the crew was staring at the cloud of fluorescents in awe.

  Bernadette felt nothing. Maybe the
dust hadn’t affected her? She looked down at the wooden deck were her hand was, it had disappeared into the wood.

  Her conscious mind saw a small cloud descend in front of her. The cloud was blue and green with a hint of gold. Where had she ever seen something like that before she wondered?

  She remembered she had a bed cover like that back in her room when she lived with her parents. A warm feeling came over her. She heard herself moan with pleasure.

  A figure appeared in front of her. She wasn’t sure who it was at first, then she realized it was her Grandmother Moses. She bent down and took Bernadette’s hands and raised them to her face and began to speak.

  Grandmother Moses was saying something very grave. It sounded like a message. Bernadette tried hard to hear, but there was a humming sound in her ears.

  She leaned closer to Grandmother Moses. “What are you trying to say?”

  “You’re being boarded by Russians. Your life is in danger.”

  53

  Bernadette felt the ship move. Did the submarine submerge? Had the stoned submariners remembered to close their hatches before they dived?

  A feeling of loss came over her. She had no idea why. Then the ship’s floor became level. She no longer had to lean to one side to keep from sliding backwards. That was a nice feeling. A level feeling—she thought she might like to explore that.

  She heard shouting. Large men were climbing over the railings of the yacht. They didn’t look like nice men—muscles, tattoos, unshaven faces and guns.

  The men removed all the weapons from the yacht crew. One very large man came and stood over Bernadette. He had a strange face. He looked like a wolf.

  “I am Volkov,” the man said. “You must be Detective Bernadette Callahan, and I assume that is Alistair McAllen and FBI Agent Winston lying over there on the floor.”

  Bernadette blinked her eyes twice in reply. She thought that was satisfactory at this point.