The Devil's Triangle

by Catherine Coulter

“You will tell me how I can find the Kohaths or I will shoot you in the kneecap and you will never fly again.” Nicholas drew his Glock, aimed it at Guzman’s right knee.

  Mike came up to stand beside Nicholas. Aimed her Glock at his left knee. “Now,” she said, “or not only will you never fly again, you will never walk again. You’ve got a nice long life ahead of you. Imagine it in a wheelchair.”

  Rafael gulped. “Stop, please don’t shoot. My wife wouldn’t like it, she might kick me out, she—”

  “Where are the Kohaths, Rafael?”

  “Okay, sure, I fly for the Kohath twins when they visit and make other flights for El Creador for supplies, whatever he wishes. But not this time, this time Old Ramos took them in the Atlantis, it’s a big old yacht. There were four passengers and supplies, and they would not fit on my plane.”

  “And where, exactly, do you fly?” Mike asked.

  “I always fly to specific coordinates. I call Base One and soon a boat appears. I don’t know any more than that.”

  “A boat appears? From where?”

  He looked at Mike. “It comes from the—” He swallowed and froze, and both of them saw the fear. Was he more scared of the Kohaths than he was of losing both knees?

  Mike said, “Three seconds, and you’re crippled for life, Mr. Guzman.”

  Guzman splayed his hands in front of him. “Listen, listen, no one knows. It is a secret.” He paused a moment, then, “It is a very valuable secret.”

  “Now you want to make us pay for what you know? Say goodbye to walking by yourself to the bathroom.” She flicked off the safety and aimed her Glock.

  Nicholas said, “A moment, Agent Caine. Mr. Guzman, we are not unreasonable. We will give you ten thousand dollars if you tell us everything, because we realize that once you have told us everything, there won’t be any more trips for you with the Kohaths.”

  “And we will leave your knees intact.”

  “And you will get me to the United States? My daughter goes to medical school in Miami. I haven’t seen her for two years.”

  “You’ve got yourself a deal. Talk.”

  “Listen, if I tell you everything I know, they will kill me and my family. So we could not remain here. Could my wife and I live permanently in the United States. Forever?”

  “Yes,” Nicholas said, and hoped Vice President Sloan would come through for him. “Yes, forever.”

  Rafael pulled a dirty handkerchief from his jeans pocket and mopped the sweat off his forehead. “Okay, the boat comes from the island. I’ve seen it only a few times. They have a way of making it disappear. I can’t fly the plane all the way there, I have to land in the water, and they bring the boat to me. I fly in smaller supplies to them, supplies they need quickly, like groceries and small maintenance items, since my plane takes a shorter time than the Atlantis. Otherwise, Old Ramos ferries supplies from here to the island. He says he’s worked for the old man for forty years, he has deliveries about three times a week, sometimes more.”

  “What is this crazy old man’s name?” Nicholas asked.

  “They call him El Creador.”

  “Creator of what?”

  “He builds things, everyone says he builds crazy things, weird things. I don’t know, how could I? I’m a pilot. I fly for a living. I do know his name, though. And the names of his twin grandchildren. Jason Kohath. The twins are Cassandra and Ajax.”

  “What does it look like, the island?”

  “It’s a volcano.”

  “A volcano? Is it active?”

  “No. Around this area there are all kinds of volcanos, on all the islands. This island, though, it isn’t on any of the maps I’ve seen. You look on some old nautical maps, maybe you find it. I don’t know. It’s been hidden my whole life.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Fifty-three.”

  Nicholas and Mike shared a glance. The timeline fit. The Genesis Group, namely, Alexander Kohath, had been in this area looking for Atlantis in the 1950s and ’60s and that was probably when they’d come across an uncharted volcano. And Jason Kohath’s father had taken it over as a testing ground for their Coil.

  “How many people are out there?” Mike asked.

  “Six, maybe eight—El Creador, a cook, anywhere from two to four guards, and an assistant—a ghoul of a fellow, very serious—and of course the Brit captain of the boat that unloads supplies from my plane, and his first mate. The pay is great, the Brit captain told me once, but he said it’s tough, since they’re so isolated, nothing to do except play Ping-Pong and watch movies. And his first mate said the old man sits in front of a dozen computers all the time. No one knows what he does. Except for his assistant, I guess.”

  “How often do his grandchildren, Cassandra and Ajax Kohath, visit?”

  “Once, maybe twice a year, more often when they were younger. They don’t usually show up without a lot of notice, but not this time, almost no warning at all.

  “That beautiful girl, I’ve got to warn you, she’s nuts. She didn’t like something Alfredo—he’s one of the mechanics who works here—said the last time they came, and she kicked him onto the ground and kept kicking him until her brother pulled her off. Alfredo was in bed for a week with broken ribs.

  “Me? I’m more afraid of him, the brother, Ajax.” Rafael shuddered. “He’s all calm and reasonable one minute and then the next, those eyes of his are glowing, like a demon’s.” As if he knew how melodramatic that sounded, Rafael added, “Not really a demon, more like a volcano you thought was dormant. He’ll explode without warning. Both of them, they’re . . . not right in the head.”

  “They came without warning this time?”

  Rafael nodded. “I got word to be ready only a few hours ago, in case they wanted me. But as I said, they went on the Atlantis to the island.”

  “Weapons?”

  “I don’t know. This time I know Old Ramos brought along three of his nephews, and they all had guns.”

  “Does the Atlantis go to the island?”

  “No. Like me when I fly in supplies or people, the Brit captain brings a boat from the island. I’ve been ordered never to go past the drop zone, but I remember the first time, I hung around to see what would happen.”

  “What did you see?”

  “One minute there was simply nothing but water all around, the next this island with a volcano in the middle of it. It was like magic, scary magic. I hear talk the El Creador is some sort of mad scientist. But of course I can’t ask how he does this magic since I wasn’t supposed to ever see it. You do believe me, don’t you? I mean, you won’t shoot out my knees?”

  Mike said, “We believe you, your knees are safe from us.”

  Nicholas said, “One last thing. I want you to ask the airport manager if there was a man and woman with the Kohaths. Prisoners.”

  “I was told there were four people. Does this help you?”

  Nicholas said, “Go ask the airport manager to describe them to you.”

  Rafael trotted to the hangar and was back again in a couple of minutes. “Alfredo said the two of them were tied up. Both of them were dirty, beat-up, but you know what? Alfredo said they still looked dangerous, both of them.”

  Mike asked, “When are you due to fly in the next shipment?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Rafael, you’re going to make that delivery today. Call them up, make an excuse. You have to get it to them now. However you communicate, do it. Don’t forget your knees, your ten thousand dollars, your forever in the United States with your wife, and your daughter in Miami.”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll call them now. I speak only to the British captain. Once I set up a drop, then what?”

  “Then—” Nicholas smiled. “Then, Rafael, you will fly us out there.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  The Bermuda Triangle: October 1, 2015, a 790-foot cargo ship, the SS El Faro, reported a tropical storm hundreds of miles away suddenly dashed toward them and circled the ship. Communications went dead.
The hurricane was later reported going back from where it had originally been, once again a tropical storm. Weeks later, El Faro was finally located sitting upright in one piece at a depth of fifteen thousand feet. No trace of the thirty-three man crew.

  The Bermuda Triangle

  When Cassandra had visited Grandfather’s island for the first time as a child, she’d expected tremendous heat, even brimstone, and her grandfather lighting his cigars in the burning lava, like a god, or the devil. Shortly, they would prove he was no god, or the devil, only a relic who’d outlived his usefulness, lost his courage.

  Soon it would be her island. No brimming lava, no sulfurous brimstone, instead, the smell of rocks, and that made her smile.

  Rocks were one of her mother’s favorite things, and hers as well, of course. Earth was forever, Helen would say, and rocks marked the time.

  Cassandra hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her mother since they’d found the cherubim’s wing and the note, about what might have happened to her, about spending the rest of her life without her. She could still listen to her mother’s voice, though. Cassandra had offloaded several of her mother’s voice messages. Sometimes she played them, to listen to her mother’s voice, like lovely British bells.

  She wouldn’t think of her mother now, she couldn’t afford to because she knew her mother wouldn’t approve of what she and Ajax were going to do. But there was no choice, it had to be done or everything would fall apart. And after Grandfather was dead, her focus had to be finding the Ark.

  Sometimes, when she opened her mind, she fancied she could feel the Ark under her fingers, she could see her hands raising the lid, she could taste the power it would bring, feel its promise, a light in the darkness. She would become one with it and then it would hit her like a bolt of lightning, and then she’d be omnipotent. And Ajax, would he be omnipotent as well? Somehow, Cassandra couldn’t imagine Ajax sharing in the glory that would be hers, alone.

  Cassandra walked into the perfectly camouflaged concrete structure, built, Grandfather believed, by the Russians. It was covered with ivy and vines, and gnarled bushes with huge twisted branches and birds nested there. The entrance wasn’t noticeable unless you knew where to look—just in case, her grandfather had always said—just in case.

  She walked through the security gate, knowing one of Grandfather’s X-rays was looking at her to the bone. It came to her then, a memory from when she was nineteen, and he’d told her and Ajax about their mother being lost in the Gobi. She’d asked him then if he had her notebooks. She remembered clearly now that he’d shaken his head, said, “Your mother’s notebooks are not for you.”

  And why not? But she hadn’t asked, she was too grief-stricken. Maybe her mother’s notebooks were in the vault.

  Cassandra felt a spurt of excitement as she nearly danced into the inner sanctum. She wasn’t at all surprised to see her grandfather seated in his chair, sipping a cup of that disgusting coffee he loved so much.

  Jason said without turning, “I saw you come in. Why are you here, Cassandra?” His voice sounded scratchy and old—no, ancient, unused.

  She said gaily, “We haven’t seen you for too long, Grandfather. We missed you.” Should she hug him, kiss him? She didn’t move.

  Finally he turned to face her. A thick gray eyebrow went up. “You honestly expect me to believe that? Where is your brother?”

  “Securing the cargo.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you bring that man and woman with you?”

  Cassandra went over to look at the satellite screens in front of him. “I might need the woman, we’ll see. It’s nothing for you to worry about, Grandfather. Where is the storm?”

  Jason smiled, showing yellow teeth from the gallons of that vile coffee he drank, and she felt revulsion. She didn’t want to believe she was of his blood, that her mother was his child. He looked so ordinary, so shrunken, with his stark white hair in tufts on his head, his thick glasses magnifying his eyes, and that mean slash of a mouth. His meager shoulders were rounded from decades in front of his computers. She looked at the liver spots on his hands and arms and quickly looked away. It was past time for him to die. Long past time.

  No, he wasn’t a god. She imagined he clung so desperately to life because he knew the Ark would make him immortal, make him a god. Not for you, old man, not for you.

  He pointed toward one of the screens behind him, where the storm had grown to an alarming size. “Did you truly think Ajax could intensify the storm without my noticing?”

  “Of course not, Grandfather. You see everything, don’t you?”

  Jason felt sadness looking at her beautiful face, Helen’s face. But not Helen’s voice. He heard the slick sneer, the not-completely-hidden threat in Cassandra’s voice. Then he felt more—soul-deep fury. “Surely your brother knows he cannot move the storm into the position he wants. Only I can do that.”

  Cassandra fought for control. “You must give Ajax the rest of the formula, Grandfather. We must destroy Washington, D.C. Otherwise all we have built, all we have accomplished, it will vanish in the blink of an eye, and Ajax and I will be taken or killed. So rather than New Orleans again, we destroy their very seat of power. Please, Grandfather, the American FBI is close, too close.”

  He said abruptly, “Show me the cherubim’s wing.”

  He was ready to negotiate. Excellent.

  “I will not only show it to you, I will give it to you. But first, you will give me the combination to the vault so we can have the formula.”

  Jason studied his granddaughter’s face. She stood perfectly still, the box holding the cherubim’s wing under her arm. So like Helen, yet nothing like her at all. Helen’s innate goodness hadn’t bred into her children. The girl thought to bribe him. It was amusing if it hadn’t been so sad. He said quietly, “Do you remember you once asked me if I was the Wizard of Oz?”

  She leaned close, studied his seamed face. “That was long before I realized what and who was behind the curtain, before I saw what you were and what you’d become—a pathetic gutless old man.”

  He scooted his chair away from her, studied her as she’d studied him. “A pity you only see me now as an obstacle and not as El Creador, as Burnley says some of the Cubans call me. No, Cassandra, I will not give you the directionality procedure. I would fear for the world’s survival if I did. Why can’t you realize I am only trying to do the right thing? To help find the Ark, to keep the Genesis Group financially healthy.” He saw she wasn’t even listening to him. He said abruptly, “You say the FBI is close behind you. Tell me what you did.”

  She didn’t meet his eyes. “Ajax and I did only what was needful.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him, still he tried. “You and Ajax could remain here, safe from the FBI. And together, we can continue to run the Genesis Group.”

  “I cannot find the Ark if I’m hiding out here.”

  He wanted to tell her the Ark wasn’t for her, but he said, “I will not weaken the United States by destroying their capital, all because you and your brother haven’t been wise in your choices.

  “You know the FBI or any other country’s law enforcement can’t find you and your brother here. Say you will stay with me, and be safe, learn what you must learn to honor your mother’s memory.”

  He stared at her, seeing yet again her hatred for him, her contempt, and it chilled him. Like her damnable excuse for a father, she and her brother were unstable, a kind word for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to think crazy, it was too final, too scary, it meant the end of everything. Of course, he’d known it for a long time, even accepted it, but to see her now, realizing what she was, seeing this bone-deep hatred of him, in the open for the first time, it nearly broke him. And he remembered Helen’s words that he would do everything he could to help them until there was nothing more he could do, and she understood, then she’d bowed her head.

  Still, he was shocked when she screamed at him, “Don’t you speak to me about honoring my moth
er’s memory! Everything I do is for my mother. Enough, you profane old man. Open the vault or I will crack the cherubim’s wing over your skull and watch your genius brains fly all over your computers. Give me the combination!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Jason knew he had to keep calm, and use reason that would make her understand even though he knew it wouldn’t work. “Cassandra, what do you think you would gain if you destroyed Washington? You think they wouldn’t come after you, that you would be safe?”

  “Of course. The storm will be so massive it will take the U.S. years to recover. As for law enforcement, the FBI, we will be far down on their list. Think of all the looting, the anarchy, the chaos. We will be nothing to them.” And she snapped her fingers.

  “Now, I want the formula. It’s time for Ajax to direct the storm to Washington.”

  “No.”

  “You’re refusing to give us the rest of the formula?”

  “Yes.”

  She slowly opened the box and lifted out the golden cherubim’s wing. It glowed, warmed her hands. She felt the writing indenting its surface and saw the words in her mind:

  Through this door lies a weapon of great power. Open it, and it will indeed kill.

  Through this door—

  She whispered, “The Ark is here, it’s in the vault, isn’t it? You’ve had it this entire time. You’ve lied to us, to me and Ajax, our entire lives. The Ark is here.”

  “No,” he said, and felt a sudden spurt of fear. She was walking toward him, never taking her eyes off him and the look in her eyes was wild and cold and black.

  “You bastard. What else have you been hiding in that ridiculous vault? My mother’s whereabouts? My mother’s notebooks? Tell me, you worthless old man!”

  Jason simply shook his head back and forth.

  She said, “The Ark belongs to the Kohaths. We are the last of the line. The Ark will be mine, not yours, never yours.”

  He slammed his fist onto the console. “Get a hold of yourself, Cassandra. Listen to me now. I don’t have the Ark. As for the formula, I keep it here.” He tapped his head. “Do you believe I would ever write it down and stash it in my vault? Yes, I see you want to kill me, but if you do, you will never be able to use the Coil again. And that means you will never find the Ark. Think carefully before you do something you will regret for the remainder of your life.”