The Isle of Devils HOLY WAR

by R. C. Farrington

  Hide and Seek in the Triangle

  The next morning Savage was in his office at the St. George’s Police Station at the crack of dawn filling out the reports he so hated doing. He knew the sooner he finished the sooner he would get back on the streets where the action was. Several hours later as Savage was finishing his reports the desk sergeant entered his office and said, “Inspector, the Commissioner requests your presence.”

  Savage looked up in disgust and replied, “Please inform our dear Commissioner that Inspector Savage is still working on reports and will be heading to Hamilton sometime after lunch.”

  The sergeant smiled and added, “That won’t be necessary, Inspector. The Commissioner is waiting for you down the hall in the briefing room.”

  Savage thought to himself, “What the hell is he doing here?” Savage said, “Now wait a minute. Black Jack killed himself with that spear gun. The Commissioner is surely not investigating me for that, is he?”

  The sergeant laughed and said, “Come on, Inspector, you know you're his favourite inspector.”

  Savage replied, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He walked down the hall to the briefing room and knocked on the door.

  He soon heard a voice saying, “The door’s open, Inspector. Come on in.”

  Savage opened the door and walked in. He saw the Commissioner standing by on of the windows smoking a Cuban cigar. The Commissioner turned from the glass and said, “Well, Savage, it's been a long time. You made quite a ruckus last night, Savage. What have you got to say for yourself?”

  Savage looked the Commissioner straight in his eyes and said, “Sir, may I speak candidly?”

  The Commissioner nodded his approval.

  Savage continued, “Thank you, sir.” He walked over to the Commissioner and said, “What the bloody hell do you mean? Last night with the help of two fine officers we busted a group of drug dealers and drug smugglers. That’s what I’ve got to say for myself.”

  The Commissioner yelled back, “And what about the fact you stole a jet ski and later sank it? Not to mention one of the suspects was killed.”

  Savage turned beet red and fired back, “Suspect? Black Jack was one of the most vicious criminals Bermuda has seen in years. What do you want Commissioner? Do you want my bloody badge?”

  The Commissioner smiled and replied, “What I want for you, Savage, is to shut up and meet my guest.”

  Savage was stunned. He looked around, and in the corner of the room a figure stepped out of the shadows. The Commissioner added, “Savage, I want to introduce you to Special FBI Agent Derek Storm.” Storm was dark skinned, thirty five years old, six feet one inch tall with a medium large build. He also held a black belt in karate.

  Savage reached out and shook Storm’s hand saying, “Good morning. It’s bloody good to meet you, Agent Storm.”

  Storm replied, “Thank you, Inspector, but we’ve already met.”

  Savage a bit puzzled said, “I don’t think so. I would have remembered you.”

  Stormed smiled and said, “We met each other last night. In fact my jaw is still a little sore.”

  Then it hit Savage like a ton of bricks. Agent Storm was one of the two men who were fighting on the speed boat, and both were knocked into the brink when Savage flew onto the speed boat. Savage added, “Please accept my apology, Agent Storm. I thought the drug dealers were fighting with each other.”

  The Commissioner interrupted the conversation by saying, “Well, mates, we have quite a bit to discuss. First of all, Savage, Agent Storm is here unofficially and what is said in this room today is off the record and never happened. Do you understand?” Savage nodded his head. The Commissioner continued, “Good. Agent Storm is here investigating a terrorist plot against the United States.”

  Savage interrupted by saying, “Excuse me, sir, but isn’t the FBI only U.S. domestic?”

  The Commissioner turned a little red and replied, “Not always, Inspector, but hold your questions. We’ll try to bring you up to speed. Last month in Bagdad FBI agents discovered a plot with the code name ‘Devil’s Triangle’. One was killed, and the other one is here in the room with you right now. I’ll now turn the floor over to Agent Storm to fill us in on the rest.”

  Storm stood up and walked over to a world map that was hung on the wall of the briefing room. He replied, “Thank you, Commissioner. I know this is the one place in the world that I don’t have to explain the Bermuda Triangle.”

  Savage looked at him and smiled saying, “Yes, and you’re on the Isle of Devils, mate.”

  Agent Storm continued. With his hand he drew an imaginary line from Bermuda to Miami to Puerto Rico. He said, “Savage, if you noticed two of the three points on the Bermuda Triangle are in the United States and United States Territories. That’s why I’m here. We’re trying to keep the investigation under one umbrella and not mix it between multiple U.S. government agencies. Although the FBI has no jurisdiction in Bermuda we have been informally invited by the Bermuda Government to investigate our leads on the island. So far we have picked up nothing in Puerto Rico and Miami.”

  The Commissioner joined the conversation. “Savage, you’re the best investigator we have; although sometimes your means might be suspect, they might come in handy on this investigation. One other thing, Savage, this investigation is off the radar. As of this minute you’re on an extended holiday, and the department has no knowledge of what you’re up to. As far as I know one of your good police friends arrived on the island last night on a cruise ship, and you’re entertaining him with a sightseeing tour of Bermuda. If you get your stubborn butt into trouble, the Queen is the only one who can help you.”

  Savage looked at the Commissioner and Storm and said, “Well then, ‘God save the Queen’. I may need the old gal later.” He turned to Storm and added, “Well, mate, daylight is burning. Let’s go down to my office and get started.”

  The Commissioner yelled at Savage, “I just told you. You’re on holiday. You can’t have any police business in this building.”

  Savage fired back, “I meant the bloody pub down on Water Street, sir. Come on, Storm. I’m on holiday.” Savage and Storm walked out of the office and left the building.

  The Power of Crude

  The two men walked down to Water Street and into one of Savage’s favorite pubs. After entering the pub Savage yelled to the bartender, “Barkeep, make me up a ‘Dark 'n Stormy’ for my dark and stormy friend. Better yet, make that two. I’ll take one, too.”

  As they sat down Storm asked, “What the hell did you just order? Are you making fun of me?”

  Savage laughed and said, “No mate, that’s a local drink made with our own Gosling's Black Seal Rum and Ginger Beer. Don’t worry. You’ll bloody well like it.”

  The bartender brought the order over and slammed the glasses down on the table saying, “Drink up, boys.” He walked back over to the bar laughing.

  Savage picked up his glass and said, “Cheers, mate.”

  Storm picked up his glass and replied, “Cheers.” After taking a couple of gulps Storm said, “Not bad; I could get used to this drink.”

  After a bit of small talk, Savage asked, “If you’re here looking for terrorists, what the hell were you doing on that speedboat fighting with drug dealers?”

  Storm replied, “The smugglers had been acting very suspiciously; so I was keeping my eye on them. When I saw them throw something overboard I thought it might be something related to the terrorist plot. So I went after the package.”

  Savage replied, “Didn’t you take a big risk exposing yourself to the terrorists?”

  Storm said, “Look, I didn’t have time to think about it. After seeing you in action what’s the difference?”

  Savage laughed and took another sip. He asked, “So what makes Bermuda a hot spot for you?”

  Storm replied, “Two reasons. First of all you have a new oil distributor, Hooda Oil from Saudi Arabia, setting up operations here selling their oil and gas cheaper. Also the fact th
at some believe money laundering is common place in Bermuda, especially with the heavy duty your Government places on oil imports here. There must be tons of money, not just oil flowing in and out of Bermuda.”

  Savage snapped back, “Speaking of high prices for oil, aren’t your U.S. oil companies making record profits off the high cost of crude? I don’t see them doing anything to keep the prices down by stepping up U.S. production or using their oil reserves. So who are these terrorists making wealthy anyway? Better look in the mirror, mate.”

  Storm added, “OK, I get the message. Sorry. It does make you wonder-- if Hooda Oil is funding terrorists from the huge profits they’re making on crude now. No matter what, we do need to find out more about Hooda Oil. Was that their tanks I saw when I arrived at the airport?”

  Savage replied, “No, that’s our own local imported. They’re clean. I personally know the family who owns it. Hooda Oil is being setup at the other end of the island just next to the Royal Navy Dockyard. In fact, I hear they’re setting up construction facilities in the old abandoned Casemates Prison. Plus they already have oil storage facilities there.”

  Storm asked, “Should we head to Casemates tomorrow?”

  Savage thought for a minute and said, “No I think tomorrow we’ll go to Hamilton and pay a visit to one of my banking friends and ask him a few questions about Hooda Oil first.” Savage looked down at Storm’s belt and asked, “Hey, mate, I don’t see you’re packing. What’s up?”

  Storm replied, “Well, buddy boy, I was until someone tried to deep six me in the ocean. I floated back to the surface, but my pistol didn’t make it.”

  Savage added, “Well, you’re better off without it. All types of guns are banned here. Most of the time cops don’t even wear them.”

  Storm smiled and said, “So what do you do when you’re trying to make an arrest? Do you say, ‘Stop, or I’ll slap you’?”

  Savage’s face was turning red. He replied, “That just means we’re better cops than our bloody U.S. counterparts. We can do our jobs without guns.”

  The two laughed and egged each other on for a while; then they finished their drinks and agreed to meet the next morning and drive into Hamilton.

  The next morning Agent Storm was waiting for Savage in front of City Hall in King’s Square. While he was waiting, he noticed several middle-eastern men loitering around waiting for the ferry going to the Royal Naval Dockyard. He slowly moved over in their general vicinity to try to pick up on some of their conversation. Just as he was about to hear what they were saying an annoying sounding horn broke his concentration. Everyone in the general area turned and looked in the direction of the noise. It was Inspector Savage. He pulled up beside Storm and yelled out through the opened passenger window, “Good morning, mate. Are you ready for a busy day of sightseeing?”

  Storm gave Savage a look that could kill and said as he jumped into the car, “Thanks! I was just about to hear what these Arabs were going to say.”

  Savage responded, “Good luck, I hope you know Arabic. These guys are expats working at Casemates, but they don’t speak a lick of English that I can tell.”

  As Savage pulled out on to York Street, Storm grabbed hold of the dashboard and yelled out, “Look out!”

  Savage laughed and said, “What’s the matter, mate? Didn’t anyone tell you we drive on the left hand side of the road in Bermuda?”

  Storm snapped back, “Hell no! Are you trying to scare the crap out of me?”

  Savage laughed again and replied, “Well, mate, I hope we won’t run into any out of control jaywalkers in Hamilton. That just might do you in. But don’t try to arrest them since jaywalking is legal in Bermuda.”

  Storm looked over at Savage saying, ‘You know I’m a black belt in karate, and before this investigation is over I just might kick your crazy butt from one end of this island to the other end.”

  Savage looked over at Storm and replied, “I don’t think I’m too worried. This old man happens to be the ex light heavy weight boxing champion of Bermuda.”

  Storm added, “That’s right, you said ex.”

  The two kept ribbing each other all the way to Hamilton. After arriving, Savage parked in the City Hall parking lot. Then the two walked across town to a narrow alleyway with stairs going down. Halfway down the stairs Storm grabbed Savage by the shoulder and said, “Hey, wait a minute. I thought we were going to visit a local banker.”

  Savage looked back at Storm and said, “Did I say banker? I meant to say bookie.” He then opened the door which led into a narrow hallway with steps going up a floor. The second floor was dark with a musty damp smell, and the air was filled with smoke. Savage walked over to desk where a very dark skinned Jamaican sat smoking a cigar. The Jamaican, whose name was Krack, looked up at Savage and said, “Hey mon, you here to bust this poor hardworking Jamaican?”

  Savage replied, “No, your pretty Bermuda wife told me she can’t live without you. Otherwise I would deport your ugly butt back to Jamaica. Oh by the way, Krack. This is my good friend, Derek Storm. He’s here from the U.S. visiting.”

  Krack stood up and gave Storm a brother handshake and said, “Brother, you’re running with bad company.”

  Storm smiled and replied, “You got that right, brother.”

  Savage interrupted, “Enough with the brother talk. Krack, what’s going on out at Casemates? I hear there’s more out there than just oil flowing.”

  Krack hesitated to answer for a few seconds and asked, “Savage, did anyone follow you?”

  Savage replied, “No, why do you get so nervous when I mention Casemates? You know they can’t lock you up there anymore. What’s the matter?”

  Krack replied, “The street talk is that last week some brothers broke into Casemates in the middle of the night, and no one has heard from them since.”

  Savage added, ‘Don’t worry, Krack, we’ll protect you. Got anything else for us?”

  Krack said, “Yeah, but you didn’t hear this from me, or I’ll be a dead man.”

  Storm joined in, ”Not to worry, brother, spill it.”

  Krack added, “I hear they’re buying crazy stuff at crazy prices.”

  Savage asked, “Like what, mate?”

  Krack went on to say, “Speedboats, walkie talkies, palm pilots, fertilizer, lime, machetes, and lots of other stuff.”

  Storm and Savage looked at each other in shock. Savage turned back to Krack and said, “Thanks, mate. Tell your wife she’s stuck with you for a while.” Savage and Storm turned around, left the building, and continued down to Front Street without saying a word. Finally they made their way over to the harbor front where they could talk in private.

  Storm turned to Savage and said, “I can’t believe what I’m about to say, but it sounds to me like a few bomb components are being purchased out at Casemates. I wonder why they’re buying the speedboats. Do you think Krack really knows if any men are really missing? Have you seen any missing person reports?”