The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2

by Christopher Cartwright

  “Did it take long to sink?”

  “We didn’t sink. We limped into the Florida Keys, towed by a local tugboat and utilizing internal buoyancy devices to support us. The pumps worked through the night, and the emergency teams tried to block the multitude of holes in the hull. The ship will be sold for scrap metal, but at least it didn’t rest on the bottom.”

  “Really? My father didn’t mention that. I just assumed the photos I’d seen were taken from the lifeboats. I was told all three cargo vessels were destroyed.”

  “The other two ships sunk within minutes. I believe both had their hull broken in two. As for the Global Star, it didn’t sink, but it may as well have. There was so much damage done to every inch of her hull and inner frame that her repair costs would far outweigh the cost of a rebuild.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “On the dry stand in Fort Lauderdale – awaiting scrapping.”

  “Thanks. Oh, one more thing. I know you were coming past Bermuda at the time of the event. Can you tell me your specific location when the wave struck?”

  “Yeah, I was in line with South Bimini Island – exactly twenty miles west of it.”

  “Thank you Leslie. Enjoy your-hard earned leave time.” Sam ended the phone call and looked at Tom, “I’d say that’s an amazing coincidence where the rogue wave struck, wouldn’t you?”

  Tom grunted. “Oh no, I’m not buying into the whole Bimini Road conspiracy again!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam contacted the next two captains. Each one gave a similar story, uneventful right up to the moment their gigantic ships were capsized and sunk by an unlikely rogue wave. The environment, the swell, the weather all appeared non-specific, unrelated and incapable of sinking a supertanker or even a major cargo vessel.

  “Well Tom, what do you make of that?” Sam said.

  “I don’t know what to make of it. It all sounds like one hell of a coincidence, but nothing more.”

  “You don’t think it’s all a little too convenient that all three vessels were attacked by a rogue wave within an area at sea of less than five miles?”

  “We’re calling it an attack now?” Tom teased.

  “Yes. It’s impossible to call this simply bad luck.”

  “I’m not saying it makes sense. I’m just saying that I don’t believe in your Bimini Road theory.”

  “I’m just following the evidence, and it tells me that I was right all those years ago about the true purpose of the Bimini Road.” Sam sighed. Even he knew it was a long shot. “Okay, so it’s an underwater formation of rectangular limestone rocks out from North Bimini Island that runs nearly half a mile in a northeast-southwest linear direction directly towards the site of the rogue waves. No one’s ever been able to prove the significance of the strange feature, but I’d say it worth at least looking at the prospect of the two strange events being connected.”

  Tom stood up. “You said yourself that the place has been proven beyond a doubt to be a natural formation of stones on the seabed.”

  “I did. And I believe it still. What I’m suggesting is that perhaps this was a natural occurring formation that lead to the right environment to produce rogue waves. The ancient seafaring tribes knew this and were able to use it to gain an advantage over cargo ships, pirates, and Man o’War ships during the 17th century.”

  “And yet, you’ve never found evidence of such a tribe or the many shipwrecks that you said they caused?”

  “No, but watch me find them now that I know where to look.”

  “You’re talking about diving where the other cargo ships were sunk?”

  “Yes. If I’m right, there will be a shipping graveyard below.” Sam brought up the image of the other two ships. The first one had broken in half and was still floundering in the water; while the second one had been almost entirely sunk, with the bow just sticking above the water. “Tell me, apart from their similar locations, what else did you notice about the stories that all three captains told?”

  “The story seems to get more ridiculous. Three highly experienced sea captains, each with more than thirty years experiences behind them. Each one giving the same basic story, and each one within ten nautical miles west of North Bimini Island.”

  “None of them telling us anything to help.”

  Tom smiled. “But each captain was certain of one thing.”

  “What?”

  “They’d never seen the phosphorescence so bright!”

  Sam grinned. Pleased to see that his friend had finally become taken by the story, if nothing else. “So they did. But of course, Bermuda is full of phosphorescent plankton, and it’s conceivable that if a rogue wave was to strike a sea full of phosphorescence the stuff is going to glow like it never had before.”

  “Yes, but doesn’t it strike you as odd that each captain was adamant he’d never seen the phosphorescence glow like that before. They almost described the plankton as sinister, as it ran towards them.”

  “Are you suggesting the plankton caused this?” Sam asked.

  “No, of course not. That’s the sort of crazy theory you’d come up with. I’m just saying that whatever condition is likely to cause the massive proliferation of bioluminescent plankton may also be the sort of condition that causes a rogue wave to develop.”

  “Of course!” Sam stood up from his desk. “What if Captain Miller was right about his theory? That the rogue wave generator was like having a rocket aimed at a fixed position. Only, it’s not just fixed at a certain position – the weapon doesn’t fire on demand. Instead whoever is in control can only use the increase in plankton to work out the trigger for formation of a rogue wave?”

  “And what sort of conditions cause the proliferation of plankton?”

  “Warm weather.”

  “And warm weather causes a change in the ocean’s swell. Find out what that change is and we might find out how these waves are being created.”

  “Find that and we might just be on to something.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sam Reilly knocked at the door. It was a small apartment building on the MIT’s university grounds, where Timothy Locke often taught. By the third knock, an elderly man opened the door. He was quite tall, at least Tom Bower’s height, although his frame appeared much frailer.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, sir. Are you Professor Timothy Locke?” Sam asked.

  The man studied Sam’s face. The slightest sign of recognition in his eyes. “You were a student here. Did I teach you?”

  “It was a long time, but I never took any of your subjects.”

  “Pity. I heard that you’ve made quite a name for yourself Mr. Reilly.”

  “So you do know me?”

  “No, but I’ve heard of your exploits on the ocean. And I’ve watched your escapades over the years. A couple amazing discoveries of historical significance, and some not so astonishing.” He sighed. “At any rate. You’ve had quite the adventure.”

  “Thanks. This is Tom Bower. He’s been involved in many of the searches over the years. Do you mind if we come in? There are some things I’m hoping you can help me with.”

  Locke’s eyes darted between both men. He then stepped out of his apartment and scanned the people in the university’s quadrangle. “Sure.”

  Sam and Tom followed the man inside.

  Locke turned on the radio and then loud enough for anyone outside to hear, he said, “Okay, tell me about your literature review, then I’ll hear the premise for your thesis.”

  With that Sam and Tom sat down on the small couch. It appeared older than its owner.

  Professor Locke then poured all three of them a whiskey without asking if they were interested. “Okay, so you want to know why they killed Luke Eldridge.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam looked at Tom. The edge of his lips curled into a slightly upwards grin. “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Because they’re after me, too. They’d like to kill all of us if they could, but even they unde
rstand that you can’t get rid of the four top energy scientists in the world without someone wanting to investigate more thoroughly. And that’s the last thing they want. No, they’re going to let me live. At least for a year or two. They’re hoping they’ve paid me enough to buy my silence until they can get rid of me.”

  “Who are they?” Sam interrupted.

  Locke took a large sip of his drink. “They are the ones who didn’t want us to succeed with our project.”

  Sam studied the man. He appeared confident. Almost relaxed for someone who knew THEY wanted him dead. He had light blue eyes. Almost gray. His eyes expressed the significance of his intelligence. He must have been nearly eighty, but his mind hadn’t faltered an inch. “What exactly were you working on?”

  “It was called Elixir Eight.”

  “I’ve heard of it, but have no idea what it means.”

  The Professor laughed. “The name’s industrial espionage – a red herring. Elixir Eight represents probably the most significant discovery about electricity since Benjamin Franklin proved the correlation between electricity and lightning by using a kite with a key – and it also means absolutely nothing.”

  “Nothing? Two people are dead, over nothing?”

  “When we registered the research lines, we didn’t want to have everyone else trying to copy us. We were working on a means of stabilizing thorium nuclear reactions.”

  “You were working with nuclear energy? I thought Luke was a leader in alternative energies and clean fuels?”

  “Thorium conductors are the holy grail of energy production. The stuff is everywhere. It’s in the sea, the soil, mountains. There will be no wars waged over thorium.”

  “So, why haven’t we had thorium conductors for years?”

  “Two reasons.” Locke spoke slowly, with multiple pauses for significance. His voice was deep, and Sam found it hard not to feel like he’d entered one of the man’s lectures. “In the late 1940s when uranium and thorium isotopes were first being used to build nuclear reactors, the U.S. Navy wasn’t interested in power generation for the country. Instead it was concerned with building nuclear submarines to power its fleet of subs to maintain its shield of nuclear deterrence during the Cold War.”

  He waited for them to nod their head in understanding. When they didn’t, he continued his lecture. “Uranium reactors cause a fission of an atom of uranium-235 and produces two to three neutrons, and these neutrons can be absorbed by uranium-238 to produce plutonium-239 and other isotopes. While thorium only produced energy and waste products, uranium could produce an ample supply of plutonium, which as you know, is required to build nuclear weapons. Consequently, all the funding for research and development went towards uranium reactors.”

  Sam had heard the argument previously. He’d also heard the other problems associated with thorium conductors, but he wasn’t going to get into that now. “And the second reason?”

  “The second? Like with all the best technologies, there’s a minor glitch that we couldn’t overcome. The nuclear reaction is highly unstable, and difficult to maintain. You can do so, but only in large scales. Elixir Eight however, was supposed to change all that. It broke down the process, theoretically making it possible to build hand held thorium reactors, safely. It was supposed to take eight single thorium molecules and bind them to make one stable molecule – Elixir Eight.”

  Sam grinned. He’d heard of a lot these types of spiels before. None of them had panned out, the way their proponents had hoped. Even so, the threat would have been enough. “You’re going to bring down the price of electricity and piss off the oil industry?”

  “I don’t think you quite understand the value of this discovery. Elixir eight meant that people could power their entire house with a single thorium reactor that fits in the palm of their hand – and it would do so for their entire lives. Electricity is the source of everything. The greatest changes to humanity occur when electricity becomes readily available.”

  Sam drank more of his whiskey. “But you said Elixir Eight means nothing.”

  Lock smiled. “Well, you see. The theory behind Elixir Eight had been tried previously, with no success.”

  “By who?” Tom asked.

  “Me.”

  “Then why did you patent the name? And how did you upset someone bad enough that now we have two dead scientists?”

  “We patented the name and the idea because we needed funding for a different type of research. At the same time, we wanted to put industrial feelers out, looking for a big name to fund our real research.”

  Sam shuffled in his seat. “And what was it that you were really working on, if not the original Elixir Eight?”

  Locke crossed his arms. “Telling you that, I’m afraid, would get me killed.”

  “Why can’t you just tell us what this is all about? You obviously know. And if you wanted to keep quiet about it, you wouldn’t have said as much as you have. Instead you would have told us both to go away.”

  “THEY watch me. If I tell you, they’ll kill me, too.” He shook his head. “By the way, how did you find out about Luke?”

  “He sent the man in charge of his life insurance a text the night before he was murdered, saying to find me in the event of his death to prove it was murder.”

  “Really?” Locke took a deep breath. “So, you see why I can’t talk to you about it.”

  “That’s crazy. You’ve already told us THEY are planning to kill you within the next couple of years anyway, and haven’t you essentially just told us everything?”

  “No. I haven’t told you any more than you could have gotten for yourself by walking into the patents office. I wish I could help.” Professor Locke shrugged his shoulders. “I can tell you that Luke was probably the smartest pupil I ever had. If he sent a text saying that only you could prove that he was murdered – I would suggest you look into the areas that you, of all people, know best.”

  “The rogue wave,” Sam said, thinking about why his old school friend would have reached out to him. “Tell me what happened. How did THEY build the rogue wave? We’ll protect you.”

  Lock laughed. It was only a little forced. “No one can protect you from THEM.”

  Sam stood up to leave. It was clear he wasn’t going to get any more out of the man. Beneath his outward composure, Professor Locke was terrified to the core. “Good luck. I hope you live long enough for us to sort this all out.”

  “Yeah, you too, son.” Locke’s voice was crisp, but polite.

  Sam stopped just before the door. “Oh say – where did the name Peter Flaherty come from?”

  Timothy gritted his teeth, just slightly. Even the most casual observer could see the man was trying to hold something back, with great difficulty. He looked like a restrained man about to fly off the wheels. His voice became concentrated and intense. “Forget about that name. It won’t do any good to you, or to anyone else for that matter. Just forget it. Concentrate on the damn rogue wave.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Senator Vanessa Croft stood at the podium. She wore elegant business dress with flat-soled shoes in an attempt to conceal some of her height. A small American flag pin at her left breast pocket. With light brown hair tied back in a bun, high cheek bones, and a large confident smile, she was easy to watch.

  But the people did more than just watch.

  Vanessa’s popularity had risen fast. Her big smile and exuberance became infectious as she spoke on matters such as family, while her tenacity and conviction drove her to change the status quo. The people watched her speak about the future of government policy regarding the environment, health care, and gun control, in such a way that it was hard not to become enthusiastic and motivated.

  She smiled. It was honest and heartwarming. This was her day. More than twenty years in the making. She was getting close to achieving what she’d set out to do so long ago. Vanessa finished her acceptance speech. Turned and then returned to the podium. “God bless you all, and God bless America.”


  She’d just won the Democratic Nomination for President of the United States.

  The crowd of more than thirty-five thousand people cheered and chanted her name. Despite reaching into her late forties it wasn’t hard to imagine her just as perfectly at ease on the cat walk as she was in a political arena. It would be easy to mistake her as simply a beauty pageant contestant, but in reality she was a formidable presence in the political arena.

  Staring at the thousands of cheering people in the crowd, Vanessa realized for the first time that her lifelong dream might just become a reality.

  She had campaigned heavily on the future of the environment, clean energies. She was supported by a grass-roots campaign, motivating the younger voters who were sick of the age old rhetoric that there were other problems to beat first, and the planet would be saved when the time was right. Of course, everyone knows that the world has a number of problems that will continue to occur until it becomes too late to save earth.

  She thought about her own vicissitudes. The challenges that had forced her into her current position. One that she would have never believed herself capable of. Lost in the sound of a thirty-five thousand people cheering, her mind returned her to the journey which had ultimately brought her to this place.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After completing a bachelor of medical science, she’d planned to go on to study medicine. However, after marrying Brian, her high school sweetheart she fell pregnant immediately. She gave birth to a boy.

  Her baby was beautiful, and she fell in love with him instantly, as every mother does. It wasn’t until he was nearly six months old that the doctors confirmed what she had suspected all along – her son was blind and deaf.

  It took another two years before she discovered the cause. It was the consequence of a local mine sending their run off water, containing a deadly element, into the town’s water supply. It took three more years to prove they were involved, and nearly ten before they closed down the mine altogether.