Bermuda Conspiracy

by K D McNiven

  There was no stopping. To avoid killing innocent people, Brock cranked the steering wheel sharply to the left, sending the car barreling through a short wooden railing. The car sailed into the air as if in slow-motion and plunged nose down into the ocean.

  The windshield gave way and water gushed through into the interior, flooding the vehicle instantaneously. In a frantic attempt to free himself, Dax grabbed his knife and slashed Brock’s seatbelt, then his own. He pushed with his feet and managed to get out of the front window and extended his hand to Brock, his lungs were on fire as he kicked his way to the surface.

  Brock’s head shot up out of the water at nearly the same time as Dax’s.

  “Appears someone is more than a little unhappy we’re snooping around,” Dax said as they began to swim to shore.

  “An understatement,” Brock said trying to grab his hat as it bobbed off on the waves. His favorite hat too.

  The sound of sirens reverberated through the warm salty air. Several people had gathered around and gave them a hand to help them out of the lapping waves at the far side of the pier.

  Dax looked around to make sure the sedan was nowhere to be seen. They didn’t need someone taking random potshots at them once they discovered he and the detective had managed to escape without harm.

  “Evidently, whatever Decker and his crew stumbled upon is top-secret. Let’s hope we can figure it out before we all land up in the morgue ourselves,” Brock said.

  Chapter 20

  ⁂

  Brodsky looked up as two men entered the precinct. They were donned in black suits, white starched shirts, and black ties. They slipped their sunglasses off as they strode up to the counter, their faces emotionless.

  “What can I help you with?” Brodsky asked.

  “We have instructions to escort Decker Hayden to our Miami headquarters for questioning in a murder case there.”

  Brodsky wasn’t sure, but something seemed awry. “I haven’t received any orders to release Mr. Hayden.”

  “Nonetheless, we were sent to see him back.”

  “By whose orders?”

  “Director of the CIA, Gordon Pierce.”

  Brodsky shifted uncomfortably. “Where’s your release papers?”

  One of the men withdrew a folded paper from his overcoat—a ridiculous thing to be wearing in this heat, Brodsky thought. He eyed the papers curiously. “I will have to clear it through proper channels first. You can wait here until I’m done, but it will take a couple of hours. I need to contact Detective Brock and unfortunately, he’s out of town.”

  The man behind the counter looked perturbed, noted by the jerking cord in his neck. His eyes narrowed. “We’ll be back shortly. But mind you, the prisoner will come with us or you will be in direct violation of the warrant.”

  Brodsky began pacing the floor, wondering what he should do. He knew Brock believed in Decker’s innocence and that someone had gone to great lengths to discredit him. Brodsky resolved if he released Decker into their hands it may well be the last time they would ever see of him, assuming they were the responsible party for setting Decker up, which Brodsky suspected they were.

  Brodsky took his phone from out of his trousers and dialed Brock. It rang several times before it went to voicemail. Brodsky had to find a way to stonewall the men, but first, he needed to speak with Brock. He dialed several more times. Still, no answer. “Come on Brock, answer your phone!”

  With little time to devise a plan of attack, Brodsky grabbed a ring of keys hanging next to the door and headed to the back room where the cells were.

  “Decker,” Brodsky said. “I need to get you out of here.”

  Decker cocked his head curiously. “What’s up?”

  “Two men claim they’re from the CIA. They told me we have to release you into their custody.”

  “Why?” Decker’s brows arched guardedly.

  “Said it’s because you’re wanted for a murder in Miami.”

  “That’s a bunch of bull!”

  “I agree. Problem is, they intend on coming back for you in less than two hours and they have a court order. I could lose my job for this…I-I can’t contact Brock. I’m only going on gut-instinct, have you…it says to get you out of here to somewhere safe where they can’t find you. I must be out of my ever-lovin’ mind, but I’ll take my chances with Brock.” His frustration level was ramping up.

  “Where to?”

  “Heck if I know. Just so you know, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I turned you over to them.” Brodsky put the key into the lock, twisted it and ushered Decker out. “Stay here while I put the keys back. We’ll slip out the rear exit to my car.”

  Brodsky left him standing by the cell. When he returned, he motioned for Decker to follow him. He opened the rear door, panned the area to make sure no one saw them, and hurriedly they made their way to his vehicle in the back lot.

  “Duck down until we’re out of the area. I want to make sure we’re not being

  followed,” Brodsky told Decker. “I need to find a place they won’t be able to locate you. At least for a short while.”

  “I appreciate your help, Brodsky,” Decker said, hunkering down in the back seat.

  “Let’s hope I don’t regret it.”

  Brodsky drove close to an hour, making sharp turns in and out of streets to make sure he wasn’t being followed. When he felt sure he’d slipped the agents, he stopped in front of a two-story home, painted pale blue and white, with gingerbread trim across the front porch. Centered between the arches were hanging baskets filled with an array of colorful flowers. The front yard had been recently mowed, the hedges surrounding the house, neatly trimmed. A stone walkway led up to the front steps.

  “C’mon,” Brodsky said.

  They hastily made their way to the front door, Brodsky ringing the doorbell a couple of times before a young woman in her early twenties answered. Long brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and her wide, doe-eyes were clearly sparking with curiosity.

  “Brodsky, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Can we come in?” he asked. “I…we… need your help.”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  When they entered, Decker saw several toys tossed over a plush throw carpet. The room was charming, dressed up in late 1800s furnishings, wood plank floors and a spacious tiled fireplace at the opposite end.

  “What’s going on? Has something happened to my dad?”

  “No,” Brodsky doused her fears. “Brock is fine, but I can’t get hold of him and I have an emergency. He will probably feed me to the sharks for this but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Sit down, please. Either of you want coffee or tea?”

  “I’m good. You, Decker?”

  “Good for now, thanks.”

  “Well?” Her eyes filled with expectation, she took a seat on the sofa and waited for an explanation.

  “This is Decker Hayden,” Brodsky introduced.

  “Glad to meet you, Decker. I’m Kari Striker. Brock’s daughter.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kari. Sorry for the intrusion.”

  Visually a nervous wreck, Brodsky fidgeted on the sofa opposite Kari trying to formulate a way to ask her if an accused murderer could stay with her and her daughter. It sounded ridiculous even to him. However, he had no options, especially when he was unable to get hold of her father.

  “I was wondering if Decker might stay here at least one night?” he asked.

  Kari stared at him. “Can you at least tell me what this is all about, Brodsky?”

  “Decker is being accused of murdering a man here in New Orleans.” He saw shock register on her face. “We believe, uh…your dad believes Decker is being framed. He left for Miami today to see if he can dig up evidence that will help to clear him. I’ve been unable to reach him for hours.”

  “I spoke with him earlier. He didn’t give me much detail. Hayden…weren’t you involved somehow with the terrorists?”

  “They kidna
pped my wife,” Decker said. “I’ve been working alongside your father. He’s a good man.”

  “Your dad was forced to lock up Decker when some evidence surfaced pointing a finger at him. After your father left for Miami, two men from the CIA came to the station and insisted we release him into their custody.”

  “I’m still not following,” Kari said.

  “Gut-instinct told me they had intentions of railroading Decker and I felt the need to get him out before they came back. There have already been two murders, we don’t need another.”

  She blew out some air. “Wow. My head is spinning, Brodsky. This is hard to digest.”

  “I…I’m sorry. I should never have come here. Brock will skin me alive for sure. I-I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll try and find somewhere else to go.” He started to push himself to his feet.

  “Sit down Brodsky,” she said. “He can stay.”

  “Thanks, Kari. You know I’d never do anything to jeopardize you and Niki. You’re family to me. If I didn’t believe one hundred percent that Decker is innocent, I’d never have brought him here.”

  Brodsky’s phone chimed. He fished it out of his pocket. “Brodsky here.”

  “Brodsky, this is Brock. Before you say anything, high-tail it to the department store and purchase a couple of disposable phones, then call me back.”

  Apparently, Brock had learned about Decker somehow slipping out of jail and had put two plus two together and presumed Brodsky must be behind it. Doing as asked, Brodsky made his way into town, keeping a keen eye on his rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He hurried back to Kari’s house and called Brock immediately, taking a deep breath because he didn’t know exactly how it would all pan out for him.

  “I called the station and they told me you were nowhere to be found,” Brock said. “Also, I’m told Decker is no longer behind bars. Want to explain?”

  Brodsky had a sinking feeling, dreading to tell Brock they were at his daughter’s house, knowing their presence might compromise her safety as well as her daughter’s. When he spit out the entire scenario of what had happened, a stretch of unnerving silence trailed. It seemed like an eternity before Brock responded.

  “Dax and I have had some misfortune here in Miami. I expect phones will be bugged. It’s why I had you grab a couple of untraceable ones. We need to take every precaution right now.”

  Brodsky released his breath. “Sure thing, Brock.”

  “Dax and I will be heading back to New Orleans on the next flight out,” Brock said. “Soon as we’re back, I’m going to have Dax pull anchor. I’ll explain later. Call me in a couple of hours. Lay low, Brodsky. Get your car out of sight and ditch your phones. Things are heating up and your life might be in danger as well.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Oh, and Brodsky, tell Kari to stay put.”

  Brodsky stuck his phone back into his pocket. “He’s withholding information. Something horrific must have happened in Miami.”

  “Is Dad all right?” Kari gasped.

  “Yeah. Said he’ll be on the next flight back. We’re all to stay out of sight for now. When they make it back, he said Dax is going to draw anchor and head out of here.”

  Decker’s head shot up at the mention of Dax. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Brodsky shrugged. “All I know. Sorry.”

  Decker hadn’t had an opportunity to see Callie since his arrest. He wanted desperately to hold her in his arms. However, it appeared too dangerous for him to go to her or for her to come to him at the present time. He would have to play it out Brock’s way like it or not. At least for now.

  Chapter 21

  ⁂

  Brock knew his head would be on the chopping block when he returned. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a way to explain Decker’s disappearance, or Detective Brodsky’s for that matter. One thing for sure, he had no intention of throwing Decker to the wolves. After everything he had witnessed so far, he had no doubt in his mind Decker had unwittingly stumbled onto some highly sensitive information and the government was bent on keeping the general public in the dark.

  “When we get back, Dax, I want you to head straightaway to the docks and head out of New Orleans soon as you can pull anchor.”

  Dax glanced over at him. “And Decker?”

  “I’ll see to a rendezvous.”

  “You aren’t going to be locked up yourself are you, mate?”

  Brock smiled. “Not if I have any say in it. Right now, I want you and Decker to do whatever it is you do.”

  Confusion flickered in Dax’s eyes. “Which is?”

  “Exploration. Archaeology. Salvage. The answer to this mess is out in the Bermuda Triangle somewhere. You need to put together a research team as quietly and as quickly as possible. Put as much distance as you can between Miami and New Orleans.” Brock grabbed the arms of his seat as the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. When the shaking stopped, he proceeded. “I don’t see how Decker can sneak on board without being seen, so I’ll find a way to get him out of New Orleans and back to the Shark Eater without notice.”

  Dax noticed Brock’s white-knuckled grip on the armrests. “I think you can relax now, Detective.”

  Brock looked down and reluctantly released his hold. “Never did like flying.”

  “Pretty calm up here…at least better than where we just left.”

  Brock rolled his head to the side with a lopsided grin. “Think I’m going to miss having you around, Dax. Stubborn as hell, but I have to say, I respect your grit and tenacity.”

  “Likewise, Detective.”

  Brock was only too happy to hear the squeal of tires on the tarmac. They taxied to the terminal and once outside, flagged down a cab to take them to the Mississippi River.

  Dax called Captain Manny on the Shark Eater to have the dinghy sent to the docks to pick him up.

  “It’s been a pleasure working alongside you, Detective,” Dax told him.

  “Yes, it has,” agreed Brock. “When this is all said and done, I expect you and Decker to come for a dinner.”

  Though unspoken, they both wondered if they would make it through this affair with their lives. So far it had proven quite deadly. More and more, Dax witnessed the government’s hand playing out in this matter and if he and Decker didn’t discover the truth, the possibility existed they were not going to be able to acquire enough evidence to link the government to what they believed was a coverup. Both might land six feet under and no one would know the better. Except for Detective Brock.

  “We’d love to join you for a dinner,” Dax replied and thrust out his hand.

  The dinghy slid into the birth and Chase moored it. He flagged his hand at Dax to gain his attention.

  “Watch your back,” Brock told Dax.

  Dax slapped his arm and smiled. “You too, Detective. You did one helluva job bringing down those terrorists.”

  “Wasn’t a one-man show, Dax. And I was happy to have you and Decker’s help. You were both unrelenting.”

  “Any time.”

  Dax watched Brock saunter back to the cab. Positive he was being observed, he hurried down the wooden walkway, stepping inside the boat, and relieved when Chase motored it away from the dock.

  Dax had only taken one step on board Shark Eater when he nearly collided head-on with Callie and Karina. Both looked anxious to find out what had happened. Dax had intentionally not called in any information in case the phones were being bugged. He couldn’t be too careful in this matter.

  “Where’s Decker?” Callie asked pointedly.

  “Let’s go inside. I’ll catch you up,” Dax said. “Manny, draw anchor and head out.”

  Distress marked Callie’s face when they reached the lounge and Dax informed her that they would be heading back to Miami. Her nerves were taut as bowstrings. Leaving the area without Decker rattled her and her imagination began dredging up all sorts of scenarios as to why Decker wouldn’t be joining them.

  Dax gazed into Cal
lie’s still swollen and bruised eyes. Empathy drove through him as he took her fingers and sat down, his brows furrowed. “Decker’s fine. He’s in hiding at the moment.” He tried to assure her, knowing she was emotionally fragile right now, and he hoped his news about leaving wouldn’t drive her over the edge. “Brock is looking to sneak him out of New Orleans and back onto the Shark Eater once we’re out to sea.”

  Her countenance relaxed a bit. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “We’re all stumped, Callie,” Dax replied. “All of this intrigue wraps around the island you discovered. We need to go back with a research team and see what mystery lies beneath the surface. It’s our only way out of this.”

  ***

  Detective Brock stood nose-to-nose with Martin Ludwick. The accusations were flying. Brock chose to stand his ground with the CIA agent, even if they were who they said they were. No way would he allow Decker to be put into their hands. Especially after two murders and now a missing person.

  “If you don’t turn him over to us, you’ll be in direct violation of the extradition papers,” Martin said forcefully. His eyes burned into Brock’s with indignation.

  “As I told you before. I went out of town on some business. I’ve no idea where Mr. Hayden is or how he got himself out of the cell. But I intend to have a thorough investigation into the matter.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” Martin ground out. “I’m not so open-minded my brains fell out! We’re not fools! Someone in your department released him and you are responsible!” Martin’s forefinger was pointing at Brock.

  Brock casually walked over to his desk and sat down on the edge. He crossed his arms across his chest, a lopsided grin on his mouth. “Do you intend to take me into custody?’

  Martin gritted his teeth. “Do I have to? All you need to do, Detective, is tell me where Decker Hayden is and the matter will be dropped. Simple as that.”

  “And I told you, I have no idea where he is. I guess you’ll have to take this up with your superiors. Besides, Decker is highly trained. I’m sure you’re aware of that? It would not be unrealistic for him to find a way of escape.”