Bermuda

by Karim Soliman

  The meeting room grew hushed, the team members exchanging looks with each other. It was the same issue that had been bugging Heather's mind since she met that bald man. That secrecy about those givens didn't make sense at all.

  "You know what," said Daniel, glancing at Kenji. "All we have been doing since we learned about those givens is the perfect answer to your question. The arguments we had about the existence of Burke's island are futile because there is no way to prove or deny its existence. That video we just watched; what's new in it? Are we suddenly surprised to know that boats do disappear in the Triangle?"

  "If it's not so surprising, why do they keep such a video out of our reach?" Kenji leaned his hands on the table, addressing everyone.

  "What do you want to prove?" Daniel asked.

  "I'm raising an alarm. You're debating about some island while you have to worry about our return. Because I'm afraid we're nothing more than the White House official answer to the question about the measures taken to solve the mystery of the jet crash." He pointed at the screen. "Were you watching carefully? They know we can never come back. They know this mission is an inevitable failure."

  Seriously, that video was the last thing Heather's team needed to watch at such a critical time. "Kenji, what the hell are we doing right now?" She glared at the slender IT expert. "We were all aware of the risks of our mission the day we signed in. Are we going to back off now?"

  "Why not?" Kenji shrugged casually. "I signed in for a risky expedition, not for a suicide mission."

  Though humor was something Kenji lacked, Heather studied his face to be one hundred percent sure he wasn't joking. "You are not quitting, are you?"

  "I'm not quitting alone. Either we all walk away or we all stay." Kenji faced the rest of the crew. "Shall we vote?"

  6. Obsession

  Four Days Later,

  Sitting opposite to Heather was Nathaniel, the ancient languages expert who had recently joined her team. The short, slender fortyish fellow adjusted his thick glasses as he gazed at a magnified copy of Burke's photo. "Help us," he read. "It's written in Ancient Egyptian and repeated in Latin." When he reached the third row of words, he squinted, rubbing his black hair. "What do we have here?"

  Heather waited for an answer from the expert to his own question. "Don't you have a translation for this?" she asked him.

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Dr. Heather." He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the screen. "That language doesn't seem familiar at all. May I ask where these writings are?"

  Now a member of the expedition, Nathaniel could learn the story behind that photo. He seemed astounded after Heather told him about Burke's journey to and back from Bermuda Triangle. "Mr. Secretary didn't tell you where we would be headed to, right?" she asked.

  "He told me it would be an expedition in the Atlantic Ocean. That's all." Nathaniel shrugged. "I guessed you might be trying to discover the ruins of the lost continent of Atlantis. But anyway, I won't mind if you take me to that island. I'm really curious to discover what that call for help is for."

  "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Nathaniel, but we are headed to the Atlantic Ocean as Mr. Secretary told you." Well, most probably. Without any updates in her boss's stance toward the idea of letting Burke join her crew, she had no clue how she could reach that island. That was why she had agreed to stick to the original plan of inspecting the locations of recent disappearance incidents. I shouldn't have trusted that bald bastard in the first place. Men will always be men.

  "I bet you're not taking me to help you read the surface of the ocean."

  His sense of humor was worse than Kenji's, but he was right. "I'm taking you just in case," said Heather. "Because I have no idea what the hell I'm going to find in that cursed Triangle." She leaned forward toward Nathaniel. "You understand that this journey could be a one-way ride."

  Nathaniel seemed to be giving the matter a thought. "A journey with a team of scientists into the heart of Bermuda Triangle," he mused. "How many times will I be offered that?"

  "You're in the right place, then. Welcome to Bermuda." Heather allowed a faint smile as she rose to her feet, heading to the big meeting room.

  "What could be in common between Ancient Egyptians and Latin and an island in the Atlantic Ocean?" Heather heard Nathaniel mutter behind her back.

  "What do you think? You're the expert here." Heather looked over her shoulder.

  Nathaniel let out a deep breath of air as he leaned back in his seat, his hands clasped behind his head. "Possibilities are insane. Such a shame if you don't go to that mysterious island and uncover its secrets. Because I'm sure it has a few."

  Such a shame indeed. But Heather had an agreement with her crew. Too late to weep over that island now.

  Heather left Nathaniel and joined Daniel, Santino, and Kenneth who were meeting with Major Powell, the other new member of the team. With his muscular build, he looked like a wrestler rather than the pilot of the HG-3.

  "I can't believe you brought me for this." Pushing to his feet, Powell shook his bald head in disapproval.

  "Is everything okay here?" Heather managed a smile as she approached them, glancing at the virtual map of the Atlantic ocean with red and yellow circles on it.

  "No, it is not, Dr." Powell scowled when he addressed her. "I am supposed to be doing simulations for steering the vessel, but instead, I wasted two hours in coming here to learn the difference between red and yellow."

  Another Santino in the team. "We have too little time to cover a large area, Major." She folded her arms, her voice impassive. "So, it matters a lot to me that you do know the difference."

  "I get it: red for recent events, yellow for older ones." He curled his lip. "You could have sent an email."

  Heather feigned a smile. This back and forth might take forever. "I need to have a word with Major Powell if you don't mind." With a nod, she motioned her team members to the door.

  Daniel, Santino, and Kenneth didn't seem bothered as they left the meeting room. When Heather and Powell became alone, she seated herself. "Have a seat, Major." She gestured to him. Reluctantly, he sat opposite to her.

  "I understand that it is hard for a military person like you to work with civilians like us, let alone work under their leadership." Heather looked him in the eye; that point in particular was her main concern. The last thing she wanted was some rebel who loathed the chain of command.

  "No need to remind me who is boss, Dr," Powell said impassively. "I was briefed about everything regarding this mission. Yes, it might be hard for me to work with civilians, but I can live with it."

  "Very well, Major. Because when we enter the Triangle, I will have more pressing issues to worry about than our pilot's temper. Are we on the same page?"

  Looking down, Powell pressed his lips together before he turned to her. "Anything else you want to brief me about?"

  "Yes." Heather gave him a genuine smile this time in an attempt to reduce the tension. "Actually, it's me who wants to hear from you about the simulations. I presume they include exposure to electromagnetic waves, right?"

  "Of course, they do." He shrugged. "Anyway, the vessel skeleton is made of a smart experimental alloy that is immune to EMP without compromising the vessel communication with satellites."

  The muscular pilot had some basic knowledge, then. "What about hurricanes?" she asked. "Did you test—?"

  "Up to level five," he put in. "Believe me, Dr, I was well briefed."

  Heather leaned forward toward him. "Believe me, Major, we are not hundred percent sure of what we are going to encounter in the Triangle."

  "There is nothing to worry about. Our hovercraft can fly at a maximum speed of one hundred ninety miles per hour in the worst weather conditions ever known. Thanks to its fortified skeleton, we have the option to evade any probable storm by diving to a depth of two thousand feet. The vessel is even equipped with a defensive missile system, just in case we encounter any hostile actions in Bermuda Triangle." A hint of mockery was in his vo
ice when he stated the last part. One briefing session and he seems so sure. Should she show him Burke's photo?

  Her phone peep interrupted their conversation. Heather gestured to Powell to wait before she walked away to answer her boss. "You never told me you had powerful friends," her boss impassively said.

  So, her powerful bald friend showed up at last after she had lost all hopes. "I didn't want to involve them, but sometimes you had no choice."

  "Listen, Heather. I don't bother if you waste the remaining five days in looking for that island as long as you get the job done. Now tell me: is your team ready?"

  Heather needed a couple of seconds to grasp the point of this question. "Yes?" They still had twenty three hours at least before departing for the Triangle.

  "You must be sure, Dr." He used the title every time he wanted to sound assertive. "To give your crew enough time to set up your customized vessel, we will release it for you seven hours earlier than the designated zero hour."

  "That's great news, sir." She meant every word.

  "We have provided you with everything you requested, Dr, so we have high expectations."

  "Not everything, sir," Heather countered gruffly. Did he think she would allow him to get away with that?

  "Ah, about that. I talked with the Head of the National Security Agency, not because of your powerful friend or my belief in that stupid island. I did that to deprive you of any excuse to fail."

  "Very well. When will Burke join us?"

  "He won't. Three days ago he was arrested for his attempt to hack the system."

  "Arrested? He was exiled already."

  "Transferred, Heather. He is transferred to another facility. And trust me, the guys at the National Security are so pissed of him. Forget him and give me a final answer now: is your team ready?"

  * * *

  Obeying her boss's simple order to forget Burke was not that simple.

  With a restless mind, Heather attended her team's wrap up, their last meeting before heading to their new office in Miami to get ready for the departure. Daniel and the rest were rehearsing their plan of action for the coming four days of field inspection, yet she wasn't listening. She wasn't able to.

  "Heather?" Daniel's voice interrupted her endless thoughts.

  "What?" she impassively asked.

  Putting his hands on his waist, Daniel exchanged a look with the team, a smile on his face. "We just want to make sure what this silence is for. May I safely presume that you agree with everything we said?"

  "Without doubt, Dani." Why did she say that? Why didn't she voice the idea that had been haunting her mind since her last call with her boss? Oh, wait, she remembered now. She had given her team her word before. She would stick to the original plan. No Burke. No islands in the Triangle.

  "Excellent." Daniel grinned. "Let's—"

  "Burke is arrested." Heather couldn't help cutting him off. From the way her team members stared at her, she could tell how stupid she sounded.

  "Damn!" After a moment of awkward silence in the meeting room, she nervously chuckled. "Listen. I know this topic is supposed to be settled, but I'm really sorry, guys. I can't help it. Maybe I've become obsessed with Burke's island, but forget about me. You look at the facts for yourselves, and you'll simply realize that there is something wrong."

  "Heather," Daniel warily said. "We had our final say about that. Your boss had his final say about—"

  "My boss approved my request to take Burke. But when he contacted the NSA bastards, they refused to let Burke join us."

  "So what?" Daniel shrugged. "He is their prisoner, and they have the free will to do whatever they want to do with him."

  "Listen, Daniel. For some reason, Burke has been hidden from us. And when we got closer to him, someone made sure he was out of our reach." She addressed the whole team, "I'm telling you that there are people who don't want us to succeed in our mission. Don't ask me who those people are or why they would do that because I don't know and I don't care. All I care about is getting this job done. And I'm getting it done by taking Burke with us to find that island."

  Daniel shook his head, a nervous smile on his face. "I can't believe we're starting this debate all over again."

  "There is no debate, Dani." Heather looked him in the eye. "Burke is coming with us, and that's a final decision. We will all work on that in the next nineteen hours." She turned to Kenji and Jay. "Especially, you two."

  Jay grinned, Kenji furrowing his brow.

  "You accessed satellites classified files to show us that video, right?" she asked Kenji. "Now do it again to find out where Burke was taken."

  Kenji seemed hesitant, and she wasn't surprised at all. The only one who had voted against the mission was supposed to break a few laws for the sake of the very mission he wanted to quit.

  "You can do that, can't you?" Heather peered at Kenji.

  "Yes, Heather, but—"

  "Do it now," she firmly demanded. "We have no second to waste."

  "And then what, Heather?" Daniel asked. "Do you think you can just go there, knock on the door, and nicely ask the NSA guys to let you take Burke?"

  Heather glanced at the eyes fixed on her. They think I've lost my mind. But she knew she could do whatever she wanted as long as her trustworthy right-hand man approved it. "Who said I would ask nicely?"

  7. Some Little Hacking

  Burke's bathroom in his villa had been bigger than the room he was locked up in right now. Except for the two metal chairs and the small table, the room lacked any sort of furniture. After desperate attempts to sleep on those chairs, he had spent the previous three nights on the floor.

  Burke hated to say that, but he missed the house with the lake view.

  None of those who had taken him from Maine—yes, he knew where he had been kept thanks to some little hacking—had told him why they brought him here or what they were going to do with him. They were National Security guys, Burke presumed, and they were kind enough to provide him with three meals a day and allow him to visit the toilet whenever he wanted, but not without an escort, mind you.

  Time for lunch had come. As he listened to the approaching footsteps, Burke wondered what kind of sautéed vegetable would be served today. A blond guy wearing a blue pullover and gray trousers entered the room, his hands empty, though. "Where is my lunch? I'm starving here," said Burke.

  "I'm not your damn waiter, punk." The blond curled his lip in disdain as he seated himself. "Sit."

  That sounded like the beginning of an interrogation. "You know what is worse than imprisonment for someone like me? That after those years of studying and teaching, I end up called a punk by some guy whose IQ doesn't qualify him to be one of my students."

  "My IQ is high enough to know that you're just another nerd who doesn't deserve all those measures," the blond spat. "They should have let you rave about your nonsense. Only nerds like you would listen to you anyway."

  "Oh! Someone here hates his job," Burke teased him.

  "Of course, I do. Especially, when it requires wasting two years of my life in an office to keep an eye on a lunatic and report any attempt from his side to escape from his fancy villa."

  "You're jealous of me because of my fancy villa?" Burke scoffed. "Is that why you keep me here in this rabbit hole? I hope you feel better now."

  "I followed the procedures and no one bothered to pick you up to take you to your next destination. You got what I mean? You're nobody. The whole matter is just a live example of absurdism."

  Burke arched an eyebrow. "You're well educated for an underestimated agent who is assigned to pick up and guard a nobody like me."

  The agent chewed on his lip. "You think you are smart, don't you?"

  "I'm a genius."

  The agent narrowed his eyes. "And who's that genius who thinks he might get away with his attempt to hack our system?"

  I'm so gonna enjoy this. "Is this your way to get a confession from me, genius?"

  "We have more brilliant ways to extr
act confessions, you know." The agent leaned forward, his tone menacing. Perhaps it was about time for Burke to play nice.

  "Oh, come on!" Burke waved him away. "That's not the right way to break the ice." He ambled toward the table. "You may call me Burke without 'Dr.' if you want. What can I call you?"

  "Jonathan." Jonathan smiled crookedly. "Without Agent."

  Burke tilted his head. "That's not your real name, is it?"

  "It's real for you," Jonathan curtly said. "Now sit."

  "I assume it's not you who is supposed to interrogate me."

  "You're not in a position to decide who does what."

  "Will you get a promotion for that?"

  "Maybe."

  "Then, I'll be glad to help." Burke grinned as he sat down, his hands clasped on the table. "What do you want to know?"

  Jonathan peered at him for a moment. "Your plan to escape will be a good start."

  Burke shot him an inquiring look.

  "Trust me, you need to cooperate this time. The cell you're headed to is nothing like your lovely villa."

  Burke harrumphed. "Trust me as well, I want to cooperate too, but I wasn't trying to escape."

  "Then, why did you hack the system?"

  "I didn't hack anything, and again, I wasn't trying to escape. I was just trying to fix the bug that blocked the GPS signal from the reaching the device."

  "A bug?" Jonathan echoed in disbelief. "Is that the best story you can come up with?"