by K D McNiven
Callie grinned. “We have a few scraps of proof. At least more than we had before we came. No one can claim we imagined this. We have the video clips and photos Ceto caught, and more to come.”
“You’re right,” sighed Decker. “I was hoping to determine what generated these kinds of electromagnetic currents.”
“Still have more testing to do,” Manny said. “Let’s gather as much information as we can. We’ll take it back to the NOAA or to someone who can answer our questions. If we have to, we’ll work all night long. Ceto doesn’t mind the long hours and we can take shifts.”
“Good idea,” Decker agreed. “In the meantime, let’s forward some of the photos and video clips to Carson.”
***
Carson looked at the images sent from Shark Eater. With the click of a button, he downloaded the visuals and sensitive information onto two USB flash drives and stuck them in his rear pocket.
He went topside and searched out Polly who he located cleaning equipment aft. His eyes flickered upward at the sound of Carson’s shoes clunking against the deck.
“Polly, I need to take a couple of flash drives across town and hand them over to a couple of trusted people I’ve made contact with. I’d like you to come along with me.”
Polly wiped his greasy hands onto a rag and pushed himself to his feet. “Sure thing, Captain.”
“And Polly, grab your gun, we can’t be too careful. With two men dead and one missing, whoever is behind all of this is not playing games.”
“I hear you. I find myself looking over my shoulder just swabbing the deck.”
“That’s why we need to go in pairs whenever leaving the yacht for back up.”
Polly nodded. Carson didn’t need to explain. He knew they were being watched and he knew Carson would do his best to shake the stalkers. Since Decker had disappeared, assumingly on-board Shark Eater, there wasn’t a moment that went by that a black sedan with tinted windows wasn’t parked across the street near the docks. Chances were, they were hoping Decker would return to the Jade II in order to apprehend him.
Polly left for a short time. When he returned, he had his thick copper hair drawn back into a ponytail. He’d washed the dirt and sweat from his face and had changed into a dark green T-shirt. He patted his hip to acknowledge he hadn’t forgotten his stainless-steel semi-automatic handgun.
They made their way along the wooden docks, up the stairs, and to Carson’s meteor-gray Fiat 124 Spider Abarth. An eye-catching car, but for Polly, it felt like squeezing a whole tuna into a sardine can. His knees pushed upward to his chin, and he forced himself to round his shoulders in order to give Carson more driving space. He flashed a side-glance to Carson who had settled in nicely, opened his mouth to comment, then decided to say nothing.
“Put on your belt, Polly. I have a feeling this is going to be a wild ride.”
Polly flashed a ‘you’ve got to be kidding?’ look Carson’s way. He rotated a bit to the left, sucked in his gut, and wrestled trying to insert the metal buckle into its holder, the door handle ramming into his side.
“We could have taken Ryn’s truck,” Polly said. “He wouldn’t have minded.”
“This is so much faster,” he grinned, passing a quick look over at an uncomfortable Polly. “In case we have to ditch the feds.”
Shifting down and thrusting the gas pedal to the floor, the Fiat’s rubber tires screeched as Carson made his way onto the street, leaving a cloud of black smoke. It took no more than a minute before he spotted the dark sedan trailing a couple of car lengths behind. He grunted with displeasure and cranked up the RPM’s, all the while hoping there weren’t any police officers hanging out in one of the alleyways eager to catch speeding motorists.
Carson zig-zagged in and out of streets. The sedan still held fast. Carson slammed his hand on the steering wheel, looking agitated. Too late, he saw the slow-bump in the road and struck it going ninety-five miles per hour. The Fiat’s front end shot upward as the bottom raked across the cement mound. Sparks exploded around them. The Fiat’s wheels slammed back down hard, roughly tossing Carson and Polly.
“Dang!” yelled Polly, as his head slammed into the roof of the car.
“Sorry,” Carson said. “Can’t be helped.”
He sped along the railroad yard, a train charging forward to his left. Up ahead he spied a crossing. Carson thought if he accelerated to the front of the train and made it over the tracks, there was a chance he might manage to cut off the pursuing vehicle. Full throttling the Fiat, he pushed the speedometer well past one hundred and pulled ahead of the train. Whipping the wheel sharply left, the car slid, fish-tailed then straightened out. Carson held his breath as he jetted over the tracks, the car jack-hammering over the steel tracks.
Carson released his breath realizing they had missed being hit in the rear-end by feet. He glanced over to see Polly clinging to the hand grip white-knuckled, his face a ghostly pallor. Polly’s eyes fell shut trying to calm his hammering heart.
“Did it! What a rush!” Carson grinned as they looped back on a different highway, losing themselves in the flow of traffic.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” Polly moaned.
“Open the window first,” chuckled Carson. “Make sure you turn away from the wind as well or it might get ugly.”
Polly rolled his eyes, wondering how Carson remained so cool and collected when he felt tremors of fear charging through him. The treacherous pursuit was a bit too close for comfort.
Carson veered the car off a ramp which took him downtown Miami. He followed a back street for three miles before turning into a driveway behind a large brick building. Throwing the car into park, he got out, Polly at his heels.
“Where are we?”
“Miami Herald,” Carson said.
The double glass doors slid open and they stepped into an air-conditioned lobby. They hurried across the white-marbled floors to a long counter where several people were busy at work.
“Here to see Jerad Hamlin,” Carson said.
“He expecting you?”
“Yup.”
“Follow me,” the young woman said, leading them to a long hallway, past several doors, and through a slightly cracked door. A dark-skinned man sat behind the desk, dressed in a white starched shirt and a blue tie with stripes. He stood up, bent over his desk and welcomed Carson and Polly with a firm handshake.
“Please. Take a seat. What can I help you with?” he asked. “You were quite vague when you called earlier.”
“Intentionally so,” Carson said. “In case someone’s listening in.”
Jerad’s black brows hiked. “Listening in?”
“If only you knew,” Carson said and began to fill him in on the details.
Jerad sat quietly for a length of time trying to digest everything Carson had told him. “Quite a story,” he said finally.
“Not a story. Factual. In fact, I was just tailed by the feds. At least that’s who I believe it is. I need your help.”
Jerad studied Carson’s face and realized immediately that whatever Carson wanted was serious business. “What is it you want from me?”
Carson fished one of the flash drives from his pocket and held it up before his face. “I need you to put this in a safety deposit box. If anything should happen to any of our crew, I want you to run it on the front page of your newspaper.”
“Am I allowed to watch it first?”
“Presently, we don’t have all the details,” Carson explained. “But we are all being monitored and Decker Hayden is being framed for one of the murders.” He pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Jerad. “These are the names of the crew of both the Jade II and Shark Eater. We believe we are dealing with a government cover-up. We’re trying to fit the pieces together. When we do, I want you to have the exclusive story.”
Jerad looked intrigued. “You have my attention. I’ll tuck it safely away until I receive the go ahead.”
“You don’t know how much I appreciate
your help,” Carson told him. “Two men have already lost their lives because they knew the truth. We refuse to stop until we unravel this. But our lives are in danger and if they were to discover you had this flash drive, your life may be in danger too.”
“I’ve been dropped in the middle of Iraq with shells exploding around me,” Jerad said. “I’m no stranger to danger.”
“I’ll only call from a phone booth if need be,” said Carson. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you stay safe.”
“I appreciate it.”
***
A chopper was heard in the distance growing closer with each minute. After a short time, the helicopter became visible along the horizon flying low and banked a sharp right. Those on deck watched as it closed the distance between them. Instantaneously, Decker’s satellite phone rang.
“Decker here.”
“McDermott here,” came the voice on the other end. “How are you, buddy?”
Decker’ brows shot upward with surprise. Dean had not informed him that he intended to come. Neither had Decker given him the coordinates as to where Shark Eater was anchored. It didn’t surprise him really. Dean was Special Ops, and had information at his fingertips most would never have available.
Decker stood watching as Dean lowered himself by a cable onto the deck beside him. No sooner had his feet gotten planted that the helicopter roared off in the direction it had come.
“I’m stunned,” Decker said, shaking his hand.
“You left a message and said you were having difficulties. Thought I’d drop in and discuss the matter.”
“Let’s go to the dining hall. We can talk over coffee.”
Callie, Karina, and Dax were already inside having lunch. Their heads snapped up when they saw Dean and Decker entering the room. Like Decker, they were more than surprised to see Dean on board.
After the greetings, Decker began to fill Dean in on what they had discovered. Decker had high expectations Dean would be able to fill in the pieces for him.
Dean exhaled sharply. “Quite an account.”
“It’s been challenging to say the least,” Decker admitted. “We have the seamount on video. It clearly shows the tangled-up chaos of planes and ships. All we need now is to determine what electromagnetic occurrence happened to manifest this phenomenon.”
“I did a lot of research after you left the message,” Dean told him. “Seems there was nothing significant to find. If you ask me, it’s just the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle. You know, the conspiracy theories people have tried to solve it for years. Nothing has really ever turned up that didn’t have some scientific evidence to back it up…nothing conspired for sure.”
Taken aback by his answer, Decker repeated. “Nothing conspired? You seem to have forgotten I’m being framed for the murder of someone who supposedly had information to hand off to me.”
“It’s possible you got mixed up in some sort of espionage plot or the likes, Decker. Maybe had nothing at all to do with this.”
An awkward silence followed as Decker reflected on his words. “I’m wanted for murder, Dean. This all started when we stumbled onto the seamount. Believe me, there is more to this than you think. Only yesterday we had a submarine watching us.”
“The Navy does submarine testing in these waters on a regular schedule.” Dean shrugged off any conspiracy. “Probably curious as to why you’re out here. Look, I can make sure you are cleared, Decker. No harm no foul.”
“You don’t seem to understand what’s at stake here, Dean.” Decker’s teeth were grit so tightly his jaw ached.
“I think maybe you’ve given this more attention than needs be. Let it go, Decker. I heard what happened to Callie. You two need to go rest up and heal from all of the drama you’ve had to confront.”
Decker bristled. He stared at Dean as if he was a stranger. Despite their past friendship, something didn’t add up. Whatever the reason, Dean wanted to sidestep the matter and keep Decker from discovering the truth. It dawned on him just then…someone had gotten to him. No other explanation made sense. Decker took a moment to ponder Dean’s cavalier attitude and assumed the CIA had gotten hold of him. With some investigating, they would be aware of Decker’s close ties with Dean and they probably suspected Decker would try and enlist Dean to help flush out the culprits behind the coverup.
“Maybe you’re right, Dean.” Decker decided to play along with this farce, though anger coursed through him. He stared across the table with glacier-cold eyes. “We’ll wrap it up here and Callie and I will take some time away.”
Dean slapped Decker’s back and moved to his feet. He put a call into the chopper and went back out on the deck. “Good decision, buddy. Sometimes it’s better to leave well enough alone.”
“That right?” Decker said coldly. “You trained me to follow through no matter how tough the going got. I guess Special Ops has weakened your resolve?”
Dean diverted his eyes and shuffled his feet. “Yeah. Well, a long time has passed since then. We’re older now and you have that pretty little wife of yours to look after. Things change.”
At this point, everyone in the room stared at Decker. Never one to give in without a fight, it appeared he was doing just that. And Dean seemed to be taking it all in stride as if they were all paranoid. None of it made any sense.
Once Dean was hoisted back into the chopper it headed back, Callie tugged on Decker’s sleeve. “What’s going on?”
“Dean’s lying through his teeth,” Decker said. “He’s military. Someone has gotten to him…he’s obviously holding back the truth. He’s giving it his best shot to get me to back off but he’s doing a piss-poor job at it. Whatever we’re dealing with has something to do with the military. I don’t care what it takes, I’m going to resolve this matter. Dean or no.”
Callie could see Decker’s stiff countenance. Dean had been a friend for many years. They had trained together, fought together, spent evenings lying in fighting holes, snipers shooting at them, and mortars exploding on all sides. They had a deep bond. And for Dean to turn his back on Decker spoke a thousand words.
“I feel like we’ve hit a stone wall,” Decker said, discouragement washing over him.
“Don’t give up.” Callie touched his arm encouragingly. “We’re going to find the answers. Let’s see what Ceto discovers.”
***
“Look at this, Captain,” Linus said, going back over the readings he’d gotten from Ceto.
Captain Manny, along with the rest of the team walked over to see what Linus was observing. Linus shoved his unruly locks of red hair from his face. Despite the fact he wore glasses, his eyes were squinted as he pressed his face closer to the screen.
“What is it?” Manny’s curiosity peaked.
“Can you see this vague outline beyond the seamount?” He ran his finger next to the shape.
“I can’t make it out,” said Dax.
“It appears to be some kind of a structure,” Linus said. “Like metal beams crisscrossing. But I’m not able to get a clear picture. All I know is that it’s man-made.”
They all stepped in a bit closer trying to determine what the shadowed outline might be. Unfortunately, it was too vague to make a call.
“Kind of resembles a building structure,” Callie said. “Do you think the military had some underwater base out here for testing missiles?”
Linus threw his palms in the air and shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I don’t have a clear enough photo. However, we need to send Ceto back down tonight and see what we can pick up. It’s definitely something quite large.”
“It’s not too far-reaching to think that the military had an underwater base. We all know they did testing out here in the Bermuda Triangle along this trench,” Decker said, aligning his thoughts with Callie’s. “It could hold the very secrets we’re searching for.”
“Let’s do it,” Manny said. “We need to investigate it further. You still up to this, Linus?”
“You kid
ding, Captain?”
“Okay. Let’s get back to business and see what Ceto unveils,” Manny said, and the team began to disperse back to their duties. “In the morning I think we should send down some divers.”
Chapter 25
⁂
Tucker Island
Brock jotted down the last of his notes. He had been digging day and night trying to find something to help Decker tie up loose strings. Because the trail had run cold, Brock nearly abandoned investigating the matter further. But knowing what the consequences would be if he didn’t follow through, prompted him to continue plowing through old files and old news clips for a possible tip.
Heavy eyelids glanced up at the wall clock. Nearly past ten and he’d gotten to work at six in the morning. Bone tired, he considered heading home for the evening and try to manage a bit of sleep. As he grabbed his hat from its perch behind his desk, he turned to see a news clip on his monitor. A flicker of a smile tipped his lips as he bent down to read what it said. He stroked the print button and waited patiently as it clattered noisily, spitting out several sheets of paper. He believed he’d stumbled onto something of great relevance. Maybe even the crucial link he’d been searching for. He folded the printed-out paper and headed toward the precinct doors, grabbing his jacket on the way out.
Once at home he pulled out the phone he’d purchased so he wouldn’t be monitored. Relatively sure his home phone was bugged, he didn’t want to take any undue chances that might compromise Decker further.
“Decker,” Brock said. “Think I might have something.”
“Hope so, Detective.”
“I’ve been doing extensive research after discovering that both of the men murdered had been training on Tucker Island. Most of the information I found was general and somewhat secretive as to what kind of training went on. But I did find a classified report which had some interesting details.”