Fellow agent Charlie Waters sat quietly watching the situation unfold.
“That’s enough, Agent Gutierrez. We are not just letting him walk out on his own. I already explained to you that the Secretary of Defense personally authorized the transfer of the subject to Mr. Shaw here. There will be no further discussion on the matter,” Spence replied.
Gutierrez turned to Shaw, who listened while Spence reprimanded her. The bastard was smirking the entire time. She would have loved nothing more than to remove that smirk with the heel of her boot.
Gabby, as her friends called her, was small, standing just five-two, but she was as tough as they came. She had earned a reputation as a fighter by consistently demonstrating how physically punishing she could be. Whether it be fellow agents or criminals who had decided to test her mettle, she had never lost a fight.
Gabby sized up Shaw. Though he was tall—better than six feet by her estimate—he was thin and clearly on the wrong side of fifty. She knew she could snap him in two if she were given the chance. “What did you say your affiliation is with the Department of Defense, Mr. Shaw?”
“I didn’t. That’s need to know information. And you don’t need to know,” Shaw replied.
“I would just love to wipe that silly grin off your stupid face,” Gabby said.
“Enough! One more word from you Gutierrez and I’ll suspend you!” Spence shouted.
Gabby shot a look at Shaw, grabbed her coat, and stormed out of Spence’s office.
Charlie got up from his chair and followed her out the door. “Gabby, hold up,” he said in his Southern drawl, jogging to catch up with his friend.
“Look, Charlie, if you have some words of wisdom for me, just save them. I’m not in the mood.”
“Raffi was my friend, too, Gabby. Hell, he just had me over for dinner with his family last weekend,” Charlie said softly.
His words froze Gabby. In her anger about Agent Hernandez’s murder and the subsequent events with Shaw, she had completely forgotten about her slain colleague’s family. What would his wife Margaret and two daughters do without their husband and father?
“Sorry, you’re right. My God, I can’t imagine what Margaret and the girls are going through right now.”
“Me either, but getting suspended isn’t going to help them. The best thing we can do is stay on duty and see if we can find more information about our pal back there,” Charlie said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of Spence’s office.
Gabby looked up at Charlie. He was tall and lean with a tussle of sandy brown hair on top of his head. He wore a crooked smile that always made Gabby giggle when she looked at him. If not for the suit he wore on duty, Charlie was the quintessential good old boy from Texas. He was ruggedly handsome and Gabby had, on more than one occasion, wondered what he was like between the sheets. A feeling she had never revealed to anyone.
“You’re right, Charlie.”
“Damn straight.”
“What do you suggest, cowboy?”
“Let me check with a buddy of mine that works for DOD and see if I can get more information on Mr. Shaw back there. I get a feeling there’s more to the story than we know.”
Chapter Ten
Randall took advantage of the flight time to Bermuda to determine where he could find Jamie Edmunds, the woman from the MUFON case. It turned out that finding her hadn’t been difficult. She worked for HAL Group, a local reinsurance company that occupied one of the many buildings overlooking Hamilton Harbor. What troubled Randall was how to approach her. Despite the long plane ride, he still hadn’t decided. Now sitting in the waiting room of her office, he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.
“Mr. Randall, Ms. Edmunds will see you now.”
“Thank you.”
Randall followed the secretary down the hallway to a non-descript office with an incredible view of the harbor.
“Ms. Edmunds?”
“Thank you, Jan.” Jamie stood and walked around her desk with an outstretched hand. “Mr. Randall, pleasure to meet you. You said you needed assistance with a reinsurance issue with your company?”
Randall shook Jamie’s hand. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Go right ahead.” Jamie leaned back on her desk in a half sitting, half standing position; her dark brown eyes were quizzical.
“Ms. Edmunds, thank you for agreeing to see me. I wasn’t exactly truthful when I called, but it was the only way I could get in to see you,” Randall said, noting a change in her expression. “I’m not sure how to approach this, in fact, I’ve been struggling with what I would say to you the whole time I was on the flight.” Randall looked to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He could feel her heavy gaze on him.
“My name is Nick Randall and I’m an archaeology professor from the United States and, well, this is going to sound kind of crazy, but I think I know what you’re going through.” Randall glanced up at Jamie, who was now looking at him very seriously.
“What’s this about?”
Randall swallowed hard. “Ms. Edmunds, you live in a second-story apartment building with a bedroom window overlooking the ocean. If I’m not mistaken, you have blue, flower-patterned sheets and a Sony clock radio on the nightstand by your bed. You also have a small wooden desk in the corner of your room, with pictures of your family hanging on the wall. Your mom, dad, and sister, I believe.”
“Is this some kind of joke? Are you stalking me?” Jamie strode behind her desk and picked up her phone. “I’m calling security.”
“You were visited three nights ago, weren’t you? It’s come before. When it does, you’re paralyzed. You can’t move, scream, or make a sound.”
Jamie froze in place, the phone stuck to her ear.
“Yes, Ms. Edmunds?” the receptionist asked.
“Never mind, Jan,” she said, hanging up the phone. “Who are you and how do you know these things about me?” She was shaking now, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“Ms. Edmunds, I know this is difficult to understand, but I think we’re connected psychically. I began having dreams a couple of months ago after I returned from a research trip to Peru. At first, I thought I was just having nightmares, but they seemed too real to be just bad dreams. The details were so vivid that I felt like I was actually experiencing them.”
“The abductions?”
“Yes, it felt like I was looking through your eyes and living the experience with you. I think I can help you. I’m not sure how or why, but I believe I’m supposed to be here for you. Do you believe me?”
Jamie shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. “I don’t know who you are, but if this is some kind of sick joke…”
“It’s not. I promise.”
Jaime grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.
“I just want to help you,” Randall said, getting another tissue for Jamie.
“I don’t even know you. Why should I trust you?”
“My research in Peru. I met similar creatures. I know they’re real. You’re not imagining them and you’re not going crazy.”
“But why are you here and why do you want to help me?”
“Because if I don’t, the nightmares will never stop for me either. I’ll have to experience your abductions every time, just like you do.”
Jamie turned and looked out the window.
“Please, you can trust me.”
“It’s been so hard. At first, I thought I was just having nightmares, too, but they just wouldn’t stop. The experiences were too real to be dreams. There was no one I could tell. I thought I was losing my mind,” Jamie said, turning to face Randall.
“It’s okay, Jamie, I understand. When did this all begin?”
“It started when I was in graduate school. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was living in an apartment by myself and was coming home late from the campus library. My group was working on a project. I was exhausted and just wanted to collapse with a glass of wine and maybe watch a little TV.”
Randall nodded, maintaining eye contact.
“I remember dropping my purse and briefcase on the kitchen table, pouring the wine, and sitting on the couch. When I tried to turn on the television, all I could get was static. I thought the satellite service was down. All of a sudden, I got a bad headache and decided to turn in and get some rest. I changed, took some aspirin, and climbed into bed. I don’t know if it was the headache or what, but I just couldn’t sleep. I just lay there, tossing and turning…” Jamie paused, closing her eyes as if reliving the moment. She sighed and shook her head.
“It’s okay Jamie, they’re not here. Please, there might be something in the experience that could help us.”
“I was just lying there. All of a sudden, I got the worst chill and this horrible feeling that I wasn’t alone. There was this heavy feeling in my chest, like someone had placed a lead weight on me. I realized I couldn’t move. I tried to yell, but my mouth wouldn’t work. The only thing I could do was move my eyes. I looked toward the corner of my room, and that’s when I saw it.”
“What did you see?”
“Its face was completely smooth and it had no mouth. Its eyes were cold and black and its fingers were long and thin. I felt so helpless. After it touched me, I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, I wasn’t in my room anymore. I felt like I had been drugged—everything was foggy. It was like I was looking through smoke. I could see the outline of shapes and hear muffled noises, but couldn’t make out anything specific. There were several creatures hovering over me. I felt like a science experiment. The things they did to me…” Jamie’s voice trailed off.
Randall stood and walked over to Jamie, who was now covering her mouth and shaking her head. Tears rained down her cheeks. He put his arm around her shoulder.
“It’s all right. I’m here now, and nothing is going to hurt you again, I promise. Look at me. We’re going to figure this out together. Okay?”
Jamie nodded, but kept sobbing.
“The first thing we need to do is figure out why they chose you and where they are. Do you have any ideas about that?”
“No.”
“Well, I think I know someone who might be able to help us get some answers. I’m going to pay a visit to a friend of mine. Are you going to be okay?”
“I think so.”
“Good, I’ll be back later and we’ll go have dinner and figure out our next steps. What time do you get off from work?”
“I’ll be off at six.”
“Perfect. That will give me time to do some research. I’ll see you here at six.”
Jamie nodded. “Okay, Nick.”
Chapter Eleven
Extending out into the sea like the end of an index finger on the far western side of the island of Bermuda sits the Bermuda Maritime Museum. Its location at the old Royal Naval Dockyard makes it easily accessible by ferry from Hamilton.
As the boat pulled in, Randall took in the beautiful, historic view. Featuring exhibits on the history of the island of Bermuda and its importance as a trade route between Europe and the new world, the museum was also home to an exhibit on shipwrecks of the area. In fact, it was precisely the number and condition of local wrecks that made it an ideal location for training young students on the fine art of systematic archaeological surveys of the reef systems. The area was also ideal to teach “would-be” archaeologists how to document, map, and test-excavate English shipwrecks from the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
Since it was summer, Randall knew that a fresh crop of students from the University of Rhode Island would make the museum their home for a session. He also knew that he would find his old friend Rob leading the course. What he didn’t know was how he would be received once Rob learned the reason for his visit.
Randall walked briskly from the dock toward the museum. The architecture was a mixture of beautiful colonial-style buildings with large stone archways and a more modern structure that housed the museum itself. The entire campus was ensconced in the Fortress Keep of the old Royal Naval Dockyards. Stepping onto the property was akin to stepping back in time, something Randall appreciated. He quickly crossed the grounds and entered the museum proper. Then he approached the front desk, where a young man with jet black hair was stationed.
“Hello, I’m looking for Dr. Hoffman.”
“Yes sir, and do you have an appointment with him?”
“No, I’m just an old friend and happened to be in the area. Is he leading the shipwreck program again this year?”
“Yes, he is. As a matter of fact I believe he’s out with the students right now. They should be by the lagoon prepping their gear for the next dive. Would you like me to have someone show you where they are?”
“That’s okay, I know my way around. Thanks for the help.”
Randall exited the building and was immediately greeted with the smell of the ocean. A warm trade wind caressed his face and for a moment he forgot why he was in Bermuda. It was good to escape, even for just a brief moment. He made his way down the sandy beach to the lagoon, the afternoon sun warm on his face. Just as the young man at the front desk had explained, Randall could see a group of fresh-faced college students by the water. SCUBA tanks, regulators, masks, fins, and wetsuits dotted the sand as the young archaeologists-in-training rigorously checked and double-checked everything to make sure all of their gear was working properly. Off to one side of the group, Randall saw the familiar face of his old friend.
Rob was short and squat, his face like a round moon. His dark hair was cropped short and his legs and arms were tan from time spent in the sun and water. The scars on his hands conveyed the fact that this was a man used to working in rough conditions, but the smile on his face as he went about his work revealed a simple truth: Dr. Rob Hoffman loved what he did for a living. In fact, if you asked him, he would never call it work. Professor Hoffman was one of those rare individuals who had found his calling in life and spent each day doing what he was most passionate about. The paycheck was just a bonus.
“Making the kids do all of the work, I see.”
Rob turned, recognizing the voice immediately. “Nick? How are you! What in the hell are you doing here, you old dog? Shouldn’t you be in some dusty old library somewhere?” Rob’s smile stretched across his broad face and his hand shot out to his old friend.
Randall couldn’t help but smile back. “Someone’s got to do the real archaeology work while guys like you splash around in the water.”
Rob laughed out loud at the good-natured ribbing.
“It’s great to see you, Nick, what brings you to Bermuda? Is this business or just a social call? If it’s a social call, I have a special bottle of rum stashed away for just such an occasion.”
“Same old Rob. I’m doing well, but evidently not as good as you. Hey, I was wondering if you have a few minutes to talk … but not around the kiddos here.” Randall gestured to the students working behind him. His response drew a strange look from his friend.
“Sure, my guys can handle this. Let’s head up to my place. Hey Sara and Roger, I’m heading up to the barracks for a minute with my friend here. Make sure the group finishes inventorying the dive equipment and stores it on the boat for the dive. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”
“Sounds good, professor.”
“Come on, let’s go.”
The two men walked up the beach side by side making small talk, exchanging the usual questions about family and work. When they reached the barracks, Rob opened the door to the lower level corner unit, which served as his home.
“So I have a feeling this isn’t just a friendly visit.”
“You’re right, it’s not. I don’t know if you heard anything about my recent trip to Peru, but it’s related to that … and something that’s come up since.”
“I heard bits and pieces from Francisco, but he was pretty tight-lipped about the details. Sounds like things got a bit dicey. Sorry to hear about Mike, that’s a real shame. He was a nice kid.”
/>
“Thanks, Rob. I spoke with his mom and it’s been tough, I won’t lie about that. I never in a million years would have imagined something like that happening during field research,” Randall said, sadly recalling the day his graduate assistant Mike died.
“I’m guessing maybe the official line about what happened wasn’t the whole story.”
“You’re right again.” Randall sighed and took a deep breath. For the second time today, he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.
Sensing the uneasiness, Rob tried to break the tension. “Nick, we’ve known each other a long time. If there’s something you need or something you have to tell me, just come right out and say it. We’re both too old to be dicking around like undergrads here.”
Randall smiled at his friend’s candor. “Rob, how long have you been coming out here and teaching this summer class?”
“Seventeen years. Why?”
“In all of those years, have you ever seen anything out of the ordinary? You know, something that looked out of place or some strange event that you couldn’t explain?”
Rob’s eyes narrowed. “Are you referring to something specific?”
“You tell me.”
Rob sat back in his chair and looked around his small quarters. His glance fell to his desk and then returned to his old friend.
“Nick, I’m not exactly sure what you’re referring to, but if you’re talking about the lore of the Triangle, well, let’s just say that after spending enough time here, some of the funny business you read about in the papers and see on television turns out not to be so funny. This area is known for some pretty funky weather and ocean patterns.” Now it was Rob’s turn to squirm uncomfortably.
Randall nodded and smiled.
“I can also tell you that I’ve seen a beautiful, sunny day turn to shit in a matter of hours. We’ve been caught in some pretty good soup a couple of times. One time was particularly hairy and we needed to re-evaluate our program to keep from putting the students in harm’s way. Is that what you were looking for?”
The Bermuda Connection (A Nick Randall Novel Book 2) Page 5