“If it makes you feel better, I think these people were more interested in killing me. You were just collateral damage. And it would have been a terrible waste, had they succeeded.”
“No, it doesn’t make me feel any better!”
Sam stared at the broken pickup truck at the bottom of the hill. A slow puff of smoke dispersed from its crumpled hood. It was unlikely anyone had survived the crash, but you never know. All Sam knew was that the only person he knew who might shed light on what was going on was trapped in that mangled wreck.
“I wonder if I should go talk to them,” he asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Aliana said.
A moment later, the flame reached the fuel pump and the pickup swiftly became engulfed with fire. No one got out of it.
“You’re right. I guess they’re no longer interested in talking.”
Chapter Nine
Sam drove into the private entrance of the Denver International Airport. It was a hangar used by the rich and famous to leave their private jets. Just outside, and on the tarmac his father’s Gulfstream stood prepped and waiting for him to board.
“How did you know it would be here?” she asked.
Sam stopped the car and left it in First Gear. “My father has a business meeting in Denver today.”
“So you’re planning on just taking his jet?”
He shrugged his shoulders and got out the car. “I’d say my need is greater than his, so yeah. Sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asked.
“No. I can’t. I have other responsibilities. Things that don’t involve me getting shot at.”
“I’m sorry. Really, it was out of my control.” He felt hurt. “Are you going to be all right?”
She smiled. Her lips curled in a deliciously coquettish manner. “I’ll be fine. I’ll catch a public flight from here.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
She moved closer to him. Wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on his lips. A slow, passionate kiss. “I’ll see you around sometime.”
“Good bye, Aliana.”
“Good bye, Sam.”
And that was it.
He knew she’d said her good byes. It wasn’t ever a matter of one of them loving each other less than the other. Simply a case of each one living another life. Both of them tremendously driven. And neither willing to compromise.
Sam quickly boarded the Gulfstream.
Tom met him at the door and shook his hand. “Where are we headed?”
“Boston, Massachusetts.”
“Why, what do you want to find there?”
“A man named Timothy Locke.”
Chapter Ten
The twin jet engines of the Gulfstream G650 screamed as the pilot released the brakes and the jet leapt forward down the runway. Utilizing less than half of the runway, they were in the air.
Sam sank comfortably into the leather chair. He sat in the study with Tom at the other end of the large mahogany desk. The jet finished climbing to its cruising altitude, and then banked to the left before settling on a direct course towards Massachusetts.
“Where were we?” Sam asked.
“Timothy Locke.”
“That’s right. According to Elise, he lectures occasionally at MIT in exchange for regular use of one of their super computers. He also just happens to be the third scientist who was working on a secret project named Elixir Eight.”
“Let me get this straight. Luke was killed for his refusal to accept their offer. Benjamin White, we can only guess was taken out for coming to you with information about the offer –”
“Actually, Benjamin was the second scientist. Elise did some searching and found the names of the four leading scientists who worked for New World Energies. Amongst them, was Benjamin White. I’ve seen the photos, and it’s the same man I met earlier today.”
Tom looked at him. “So why go to the trouble of making up a story about Luke’s life insurance broker?”
“That’s what I said. So Elise looked into it. Turns out, Luke’s life insurance broker received a text regarding Luke’s murder. Of course, he never got the chance to read it or investigate it. On his way home from a bar he was mugged. Not just mugged. Stabbed multiple times. Must have died within minutes. Randomly, his license and cell phone were the only two things taken from him. They left a fifty and two twenties in his wallet.”
“The buyers had Luke’s life insurance broker’s cell phone bugged?” Tom asked.
“It looks like they weren’t taking any chances. When they discovered what Luke had sent the poor man, they had him killed too. Then, they sent Benjamin to go and find out if I knew anything. Once I showed my ignorance Benjamin probably assumed they’d kill me. He had no idea his life was about to be sacrificed too.”
Tom shook his head. “What makes you think Mr. Locke is going to talk to you?”
“Because only I can offer him protection.”
“What about the fourth person?”
“Peter Flaherty? He doesn’t exist.”
“You mean, no one’s seen or heard from him since he arrived back stateside? He’s probably done the only smart thing, and run for his life with all that money.”
“No, I mean Elise couldn’t find any record of him – other than on paper.”
“Maybe he removed it all before he fled?” Tom suggested.
“Elise would have known. No, they made him up. I’m sure of it.”
“Or, he’s already dead?”
“The first one to fall?” Sam thought about it for a minute.
Tom persisted. “Maybe they killed him and then tried to remove his name from ever existing.”
Sam stared out the window. “You’re right. That’s a more likely option.”
Sam poured two glasses of whiskey, and then leaned back in the luxurious armchair within his conference room. Handing one of them to Tom, who was seated next to him with the vacant expression of man preparing to sleep for the flight, Sam said, “Now, shall we discuss the rogue wave?”
Tom took a large sip of his drink. “What about the rogue wave?”
“I think it’s fair to at least entertain the possibility that someone’s telling the truth.”
“You think they exist?” Tom replied.
“Of course they do. That was never in doubt. You and I have both spent enough time on the ocean to know that these things do occur naturally.”
“Yes, but what they’re talking about isn’t a random set of events. They’re talking about creating one and targeting ships with it like a weapon.”
“Perhaps they’re not creating them. Maybe they’re merely controlling the movements once they form naturally?” Sam said.
“Even if they could control them, the likelihood that they happened to be near enough to identify the rogue wave when it naturally formed, is so small, that they would be better off leaving the entire thing to chance and hoping that a real rogue wave would form and kill their target. No, they must know how to produce them and control the rogue wave for it to work.”
“Okay, so we have to at least examine the possibility the technology is feasible, even if no else has ever done so before.”
Tom nodded his head.
“All right,” Sam said. “Tell me. Why would someone go to all the effort of researching, producing and then using a rogue wave to kill someone like Luke Eldridge?”
“What do you mean? I thought you said they were after this guy because he’d refused an offer to sell the rights to his discovery?”
“Yes, but why not just kill him the old fashioned way?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “With a gun? And then dump his body in the ocean?”
“Yeah.”
“According to Elise, Luke had real time satellite imaging monitoring his progress twenty-four hours a day. Someone knew that he was being watched.”
Sam thought about it for a moment. “There’s more to it than that. Whoever was trying to blackmail Luke knew that they couldn’t just have hi
m killed. Somewhere within Luke’s will, he advised that if the circumstances pertaining to his death were deemed suspicious, meaning murder was a possibility, his entire wealth and current research lines were to be given back to the state.”
“And so they needed to devise of a way to kill him, without any chance of suspicion. A naturally occurring freak event that killed him?”
“Yes. In this case, it was the perfect crime because Luke yacht, the Mirabelle, had a continuous electronic recording for promotional purposes. Meaning, the entire event of his death was recorded. Undisputed evidence it was an accident.”
“Then who has access to that tape?”
“Several people would have access to it by now. But Elise is in the process of hacking into the coastguard’s database to gain a copy. And then we’ll have some answers.”
Chapter Eleven
Sam switched his laptop on and downloaded the most recent file regarding the series of rogue waves. His father had complained someone was targeting cargo ships from his fleet with rogue waves and had asked him to investigate it. Sam shook his head, recalling at the time that he didn’t believe a word his father had said about the attacks. He then clicked the on button of his remote and the large flat screen TV in front of him turned on. In a crystal clear image, a large cargo ship came into focus. On its side were the words: Global Star.
His father owned Global Shipping, the largest shipping company in the world. Global Star was the biggest in his fleet. At 1405 feet in length, she had a gross tonnage that just surpassed the 200 000 mark, making her one of the largest cargo vessels afloat.
At first examination the image appeared to show nothing more than the gargantuan cargo ship. The sort of thing that could sail through a battleship without noticing the collision. Then Sam saw what he was looking for. It was small enough to be easily overlooked by most people, with the exception of a naval engineer.
The enormous steel chine which ran along the hull of the ship was bent inwards. It looked so small that it could be mistaken as purposeful change in the ship’s shape. But on closer examination, Sam realized he was looking at a slightly concertinaed hull.
Tom noticed it a second later. “What in God’s name would cause that type of damage?”
Sam shrugged his shoulders. “I have no idea. A ship this size would ride up even the largest rogue wave, but this looks more like it was struck by a solid wall of water. Let’s speak to her Captain – see if he can shed some light on it.”
Sam nodded his head, and made the conference call.
“Captain Miller?”
“Speaking.” The old salt’s voice was slow, and laid back. The sort you’d expect from someone who’d spent two thirds of his life at sea.
“Sorry to interrupt you while you’re on leave. My name’s Sam Reilly. Can you talk?”
“Not a problem, sir.” Miller’s voice became crisp and professional. “Please, you can call me Leslie.”
Sam smiled. Leslie had worked for his father as long as he’d been alive. He recalled warmly the pleasure of being taken under the old man’s wing for his first ocean crossing when he was still a boy. Even so, the man had never forgotten that he was the owner’s son.
“As you know, the Global Star’s collision was the third in the past month to be struck by a rogue wave within the Bermuda Triangle. Considering it was the first collision in 25 years of any of his ships passing through the triangle it seems unusual all three should occur in the same month. My father was hoping that I could somehow make some sort of sense of it.”
The Captain laughed. It was a big boisterous laugh. “That sounds like your father. Always trying to put order to everything in business. Science, is his religion. And the simple fact that all three of us were struck by a “one in a million” rogue wave randomly is seen by James as nothing more than sacrilege.”
“I agree. I’m with you. Sometimes chance and luck have a strange way of showing their faces. Even so, you must admit it’s extremely unlikely three such events would occur within the same rough location, especially in the timeframe.” Sam grinned at the thought of his father and this weathered sailor clashing wits. “Oh, and it wasn’t a one in a million event. For a rogue wave approaching a hundred feet in height, the likelihood is approaching a one in a trillion event.”
“True. But, does that make you more likely to place the cause of such an event at someone’s hand, as an intentional event?”
“Funny you should say that, Leslie. Because someone recently came to me with just such an absurd theory.”
“Someone intentionally created a rogue wave?” the old salt sounded intrigued.
“From where I’m standing, it appears someone’s now created a total of four. Three of them damaged my father’s vessels beyond repair, and the fourth killed an old friend of mine who was racing in a sailing regatta at the time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Tell me. As a man who’s spent his life at sea, is it possible that someone cracked the code and worked out how to create monster waves?”
“As in a weapon?”
Sam studied the damage to the ship. “A pretty deadly one by the looks of Global Star. Do you think it’s possible?”
“Everything’s possible. It’s just unlikely that anyone’s gone to the lengths required to achieve it. And for what purpose, I couldn’t imagine. The only person to get anything out of this event was your father. He was paid well by the insurance companies, but he had no reason to want to sink his ships. As you know, he’s not struggling financially.”
“No. That’s one thing I’m confident about. This wasn’t an elaborate plan concocted by my father.”
Over the years, Sam’s father, James Reilly, had diversified into an inordinate and varied number of areas with great success, ranging from oil, to natural gas, through to innovations in science and technology and even clean, renewable energies. Sam’s father had an uncanny ability to pick the next BIG thing, and invest heavily in time to reap the rewards. That was process by which his father had continued to expand his fortune.
At the back of his father’s fortune was the old man’s greatest expertise – shipping. He’d built his fortune on cargo ships, and it was the most stable income earner out of all of his investments. No, his father wasn’t behind this. There was no reason his father would want to sink his own fleet for the insurance claims.
Sam stared up at the image of the damaged cargo ship on the flat screen. “You’ve spent your life at sea. How would you do it?”
“Me? You’re asking the wrong person. You need an engineer and a scientist. What I know about rogue waves is that they’re the stuff of legends. Often exaggerated by frightened sailors, thankful for being alive, and that although rare, they are a fact of the ocean. There’s nothing you can do about it. Even if they only occur once in every few million waves – the ocean is filled with billions of waves every single day. That means, somewhere out there, hundreds of rogue waves are forming and most are likely never being noticed.”
“But how would you make one?”
“You’re better off speaking to a hydrologist or at least an oceanographer. But in theory, you could do so in four ways. First, you create the single rogue wave as the result of a secondary event. For example, by dropping a large bomb into the water. Second, you could create an air pocket underneath the water – as air rises from the depth of the ocean, it doubles in size for every ten feet. Therefore, if you planted a bomb with a large air explosion at five hundred feet, the compounded size would lead to a massive volume of air reaching the surface. The subsequent waves would proportionally travel in an outward direction. Three, you use a fault in the earth’s tectonic plates to create a tsunami. Fourth, you take the waves that are already there and point them in the same direction – each one compounding the next.”
“Do you have any idea how you would channel a number of waves together?” Sam asked.
“You mean synchronizing?” Even over the phone, Sam could mentally see Leslie Mil
ler rubbing his grizzled, gray chin whiskers while he thought.
“Yes,” Sam confirmed.
“I’ve never tried, but I could imagine if you have a predominant series of waves coming in a perpendicular direction, you could then build a waterway to channel the two into a collision. That would result in all that energy being built up together and either cancelling each other out, or joining into a larger wave. Of course, if you wanted it as a weapon, you would still need to then work out how you’re going to position your enemy in the precise location at the end of the channel. It seems pretty useless to me. Kind of akin to having a rocket launcher fixed in a precise position, so your enemies need to gather in the one spot to be attacked.”
Sam thought about it. “An interesting idea.”
“Like I said, I’m not the specialist you should be talking to if you want to build it.”
“No, but a man with your experience on the ocean, must have some open ideas. And it was that which I wanted to explore with you.” The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, and Sam casually braced his hand on the secure desk. “All right, forget about building one for the time being, tell us about the one that you survived. By the looks of your ship, it must have been a real bitch.”
“You’d better believe it.”
“Okay, what can you tell me about that night?”
“There isn’t really much to tell. The weather was relatively simple for this time of year. It was entering hurricane season, but there weren’t any dangerously low pressure systems at the time. We had a moderate following swell of four to five feet in height, the wind was gusting to twenty knots, and we were under motor making way at 24 knots. It was 1015 p.m. when we saw it. I had just enough time to sound the warning alarm when it struck. I’d say that the wall of water was at least a hundred foot high and surreal.”
“Surreal?” Sam asked, surprised by the man’s use of the word. “How so?”
“The phosphorescence was stronger than I’d ever seen it in all my years on the ocean. Within the powerful water of the rogue wave it gave the appearance of coming alive and taking control. Afterwards, the wave dispersed and the glow disappeared with it.”
The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2 Page 4