by JB Sanders
It also had a helipad, which made Glen and Tyler’s first visit to the ship that much easier.
Dr. Harding barely looked up from the printed sonar plot she was examining. “Oh, you’ve finally shown up.”
Tyler shot Glen a wry look, and then a bright smile to Dr. Harding. “We have! How are things?”
“Marginal. If Happy hadn’t brought his own crew, we’d never have left dock.” She bent to examine the sonar-scan print laid out on the chart table, using a large magnifying glass. “Something has the local sailors spooked about sailing into the Triangle.”
Tyler looked thoroughly exasperated. “What a load of hogwash that stupid Triangle is!”
Dr. Harding didn’t look up. “I quite agree. Now, as to the hunt for our missing ship, we are two search swathes into a sixteen swath pattern. Do you have anything new for me, or are you just checking up?”
Tyler paused a moment. Glen thought he was torn between annoyed and amused. Not a lot of people gave Tyler shit these days. “Just checking up, Dr. Harding. Is there anything you need?”
She stood up and regarded them. “No, Mr. Conrad. Dr. Merriwether. As a matter of fact, you have been the most accommodating and resourceful patron I have ever had. Thank you. Sorry for my abrupt manner, but I have a lot of work ahead, and I’d rather get on with it.”
Tyler smiled, with warmth. “No trouble, Dr. Harding. We’ll get out of your way.”
Glen, Tyler and the boys moved back to the bridge. Fields gave them a glance, finished speaking to one of his crew, and then came over.
“She brushed you off, then?” He said.
“Yes, just exactly like you said, although she did spare us a moment to give us a thank you.” Tyler chuckled.
Fields snorted. “Well, that’s a first. I suppose it’s because you don’t say ‘no’ when she asks for equipment.”
“Yeah, that does tend to make scientists a little more reasonable about human interaction and social niceties.” Tyler looked around, and out to sea. “Any problems on your end? My security people aren’t in the way too much, I hope?”
“Been good, though you might want to talk to your head man. We’ve had some weird things happening the last week or so.”
“Ah, yes, that’s part of the reason we’re visiting.” Tyler looked over to James. “Can you have Steve meet us below in the mess?” He turned back. “Do you want to sit in on this? I want to keep you in the loop.”
Fields nodded. “I’d like that.”
In one of the smaller mess halls of the large research vessel, Tyler setup a laptop, and attached a device to it. The thing looked like some kind of small aerial antenna. He pressed a few buttons on the software, and then turned it to face James.
“Did I get that right?”
“Yes, sir. We should be clear to talk in here.” James nodded.
Steve knocked on the open door, then came on at a wave from Tyler.
“Ok, now that we’re all together. Let’s hear what you’ve been dealing with, and we’ll tell you a little of what we found out regionally.” Tyler glanced at the screen of the laptop. “And we won’t be overheard, so feel free to be unvarnished with the details.”
Steve looked at Happy. “Could you tell them about the on-shore stuff?”
Happy nodded. “We had some trouble hiring the extra staff for the ship — not my usual crew, they’re all fine. But I typically hire locals for non-diving positions, and when I described more or less where we’d be working, people stopped being interested in working for me.”
Steve cleared his throat. “Then when we got out here, we started getting some odd … incidents. Even though we’re in a pretty off-the-beaten-track part of the ocean, outside the regular sea lanes, and away from the standard tourist spots, we’ve had three lost sport-fishermen, two lost sailing tourists, and three locals in mild distress who needed our help.”
Glen raised his eyebrows. “That does seem like a lot of sea traffic out here. What’s the really weird part?”
Steve smiled. “I forgot how easily you read me. Each of the incidents happened on a fairly regular schedule, every few hours.”
Tyler grinned. “Well, I guess that’s less obvious than a ship hugging the horizon and a fat guy with binoculars.”
Steve barked a laugh. “Yes. Slightly less obvious than that. What should we do about it?”
Tyler kept grinning. “Not a damned thing.”
“Nothing?” Steve looked confused.
“Nothing. No offense to you guys or anything, but we’re juggling like six balls while we’re down here sailing around, and I really only want the bad guys to see two of them.” Tyler pointed at Happy, and then at Glen. “Ball number one: treasure hunting. Ball number two: vacationing with my studly husband.”
“Ah.” Happy’s expression was faintly pleased. “You’re that kind of boss.”
“What?” Tyler’s grin faded with confusion.
“You’re the kind of guy who likes running a big show, lots of things going on at once, just enough adrenaline to keep things interesting.” Happy punctuated this with a sip from his iced tea.
Glen made an undignified snort, not quite covering his laughter.
“Shut up.” Tyler told him weakly, nudging him with his elbow.
Happy took another sip of his tea. “Don’t worry, I’m happy being your duck blind. Just make sure you shoot straight.”
Glen lost it.
Not the Bermuda Triangle!
Back aboard the Black Douglas, Glen and Tyler were ensconced in their favorite corner bench seat. They’d started out talking business, but between the drinks they’d had at lunch and the constant small sway of the ship, they’d gotten … amorous.
Tim rapped on the door to the lounge and then stepped in.
Glen and Tyler finished kissing and then turned to regard him. Both of them were a little smudged, their lips wet and hair mussed.
“If you’re finished—“
“—We’re not, but what is it anyway.” Tyler couldn’t help a smirk.
“There are some police here who want to take you down to the station to answer some questions.”
Tyler raised his eyebrows and Glen tightened his arm around Tyler’s shoulders protectively.
“Ok, fire up the lawyers — I assume we have someone local, right?”
“In Bermuda? Yeah. We’re just clients, though, you don’t own the firm or anything.”
“Noted.” Tyler got a thoughtful look. “Did the police say what they want?”
“No. But they’re being polite about it and they didn’t bring a warrant. On the other hand, I don’t think they’re leaving here without you.”
Tyler nodded. “Ok, let’s go. Glen, you stay here. If this is a trap—“
Glen made a rude noise. “Fuck that. I’m going.”
Tyler gave him the “oh, really?” look.
Glen sighed. “Look, let’s cut this argument to the short version: sports car off a cliff.”
Tyler quirked one side of his mouth in a — for him — mild grin. “Safety.”
“Married.” Glen replied.
“Oooh, I think you’re going to have to come up with a new card to play. You keep using the ‘married’ card too early.”
“It’s a trump card,” Glen shrugged. “What can I say? I like to win arguments about being with you.”
Tyler mock slumped in defeat. “Oh, that’s cruel. Alright, between being my husband and being my trusty sidekick—“
“—Crime-fighting partner, as I recall the agreement.” Glen pursed his lips at Tyler in a distinctly schoolmarm fashion.
“Ok, as my crime-fighting partner, I am contractually obligated to bring you. But if it comes to gun play, I’m going to throw myself in front of the bullets.”
“Not if I get there first.” Glen grabbed Tyler’s hand and squeezed.
***
They waited in the police station, in what looked like a staff room but had been turned into an armed camp. There were four policemen
in the room with them, and just outside it, visible through the room-to-room window, were their bodyguards. Nobody looked particularly happy.
Tyler’s windbreaker bleeped.
The police in the room all looked at him. His windbreaker bleeped again.
“Do you fellas mind if I get that? Someone is texting me.” Tyler motioned at his coat pocket.
One of the men, older than the others and rough looking in a rugby sort of way, nodded.
Tyler fished out his Bermuda cell phone and tapped on it a few times. After several minutes, he grunted in a satisfied way and tucked the cell back in his jacket.
“Anything interesting?” Glen said.
“Just a little light reading. Tim says hi.”
***
“Let me see if I’ve got this right,” Tyler leaned forward in his chair. “Ships have gone missing between Bermuda, Puerto Rico, and Miami, right?”
The men nodded. The one with the purple tie frowned. “Right.”
“And you want our help because — and let me be really clear about this — ships have vanished in the Bermuda Triangle!?”
Both men leaned away from Tyler slightly. The one in the tie grimaced.
Glen put a hand on Tyler’s arm. “Maybe you could ask for a few more details before this turns into an episode of the X-Files, ok?”
Tyler made an exasperated gesture at the men.
Purple Tie adjusted his collar. “All the ships have been in the same general weight class, and have been carrying high-value cargo, or transporting personnel with unique skills.”
“Ok, that’s something. Unless the aliens are collecting again.”
Glen gave Tyler a pursed-lip look.
Tyler threw up his hands. “What? These guys are playing right into the plot line. What am I supposed to do, just let these perfect slow balls cruise right over the plate?”
“Please stop taunting the government agents.”
“Well, maybe they can tell us why they bothered us with this in the first place since we’re already on a thing.”
Purple Tie raised his eyebrows. “What thing?”
“Well, publicly we’re on vacation, but we’ve got a little side thing going with a treasure hunt. And a favor for a friend.”
The other agent, too bland to warrant a nickname in Glen’s opinion, shook his head. “Yes, about that. What are you doing messing with three of the biggest smugglers in this area?”
Tyler smiled in perfect innocence. “What?”
“Our organized crime people have noticed that you’ve been seen in the company of both Vedrasse and LeMans, leaders of the two largest smuggling operations in the region. And you visited the hangout of the Russian gang operating in Bermuda. Why?”
“I’m doing a favor for a friend. Totally unrelated to this vanishing ships thing.”
Purple Tie shook his head. “Maybe not. Out of the twelve ships that have disappeared, nine of them have been known small-time smugglers.”
Tyler tilted his head, and looked at them with a faraway expression. He didn’t say anything for fifteen or twenty seconds.
The government guys opened their mouths, but Glen put up a hand. “Don’t bother, he’s doing some heavy thinking. He won’t even hear you until it’s done.”
A moment later, Tyler blinked and stood up. “Ok, this has been great, but we have to go. Thanks for your time.”
The government guys also stood up. Purple Tie looked old-school outraged. “Mr. Conrad, maybe you don’t understand your position here—“
Tyler, who had been turned away towards the door, turned back suddenly. “No, Mr. Sebastian, maybe you don’t really understand our positions. You are an agent of the US government, which is an ally of the United Kingdom. Bermuda is one of the United Kingdom’s overseas territories. This man,” Tyler pointed at the bland man. “Is an agent of the local Bermuda government. He is, as I understand things, having a friendly discussion with two very highly placed members of Her Majesty’s aristocracy. For those of you playing along at home, that’s me and my husband.” Tyler straightened his shirt cuff.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Con—“
“Lord Conrad, if you’re going to be perfectly correct. Since we’re in UK territory, feel free to use my title.”
Purple Tie reddened. “Lord Conrad, you are a person of interest in an on-going investigation. I would caution you to—“
“Look, Ted — can I call you Ted? — I’m going to leave now. I’m going to walk out that door, into my waiting cutter, go to my highly secure ship, and develop a plan to solve all our problems. Yours, mine, ours. Ok?”
The bland man tried not to look amused. Glen decided that the expression alone meant the man deserved his own nickname.
Purple Tie pressed his lips together, and then barked. “If you don’t cooperate, we have ways—“
“Oh. My. God. ‘We have ways of making you talk’?? Are you kidding me?” Tyler laughed. The poor man practically inflated with anger. “Fine, call this number. Tell him the situation.”
Tyler handed him a card.
The man looked at the number, back up at Tyler, and then left the room. The other man lingered a moment.
“Lord Conrad, I’m sure we’ll clear this up very shortly. Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you, Agent Wetherby, but we won’t be here that long.”
Wetherby nodded. “That was the number of the Premiere’s residence, wasn’t it?”
Tyler had a shadow of a smile. “It is, yes.”
“He doesn’t much like being disturbed at home. I don’t imagine poor Sebastian is going to enjoy his conversation much.”
Tyler tilted his head slightly, and regarded the man with new eyes. “No, I don’t imagine he will. Why do I have the distinct impression that he was always going to have that difficult phone call?”
Wetherby shrugged, no change of expression crossing his face. “Oh, he could have let you go at any time, and listened to your good advice.”
“Whatever did I do to warrant your good opinion, Agent Wetherby?”
Wetherby smiled very slightly, and nodded. “My sister’s children go to one of the Stross Exploratory Schools, in Haiti.”
“Ah.” Tyler smiled back at him, his face lighting up. “How do they like it?”
“Love it. The place is a miracle, not just the structure and how fast it went up, but the teachers, too.” He shook his head wonderingly. “Whatever else anyone says about you, that is very good work there.”
“Thank you.” Tyler gestured at Glen. “It was his big idea, really. Education. It’s the silver bullet. Done right, it can fix so many problems.”
Wetherby nodded. “Yes, though not alone. You really think you can handle this situation yourself?”
Tyler looked pleased. “Well, I appreciate the complement that you think I’m hauling this ore cart myself, but I have a lot of really talented people working for me, and as some have noticed in the past, I can go places regular government types have a hard time reaching.”
“Well then, I’ll see if we can’t get you and your husband on your way.” He stood and left the room.
Reporting from the Beach
They stepped out of the police station, got ten feet, and were accosted by a reporter. And her camera handler, who did not have a happy expression on her face.
“Mr. Conrad! Are you and your husband breaking up?”
Tyler swiveled, and regarded the woman through the imposing wall of their bodyguards. He smiled just slightly, and raised an eyebrow.
“Ok, that’s new. Congratulations. You got me to stop and talk to you. Why would you think that Glen and I are experiencing problems?”
The woman took a split second, obviously startled that they had actually stopped and talked to her. Then she picked up the baton and ran like hell.
“Your husband Glen was seen cavorting with a half-naked man on the beach here in Bermuda, then having lunch with him. How do you feel about that?”
“Pictures, or it did
n’t happen.” Tyler smiled more and folded his arms, obviously — at least to Glen’s knowledgable eye — enjoying himself.
The woman, ready for this, fished out a handful of 8 by 10’s and passed them through the security guys to Tyler, who flipped through them. He stopped at one, and held it up for Glen to look at it.
“This is a great shot of your ass — can I keep this one?” Tyler directed that at the reporter.
“Ah, sure. What about that man your husband is obviously flirting with?”
“Well, hell, I would have flirted with him in that swim suit, he’s hot.” Tyler turned another photo slightly. “And hung.”
Glen coughed.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Yes, alright, back on topic. Harmless flirting is something we do, enjoy doing, and will continue to do. It doesn’t lead to anything, because it doesn’t mean anything.” Tyler handed back the photos, except the special one, which he tucked in his summer-weight jacket.
The reporter didn’t seem startled by this, though Glen was pretty sure she wasn’t thrilled. The woman turned to Glen. “And what about you, Mr. Merriwether? How do you feel about Tyler carrying on publicly with a woman? Behind your back?”
Glen raised an eyebrow at her silently.
She grimaced, and produced another printed photo. “At the Billionaire’s Club party in Paris over a week ago.”
Glen took the photo. It showed Tyler clinched with a stunning red-headed woman. Tyler appeared pretty flustered. The woman’s hand was in Tyler’s jacket pocket.
Glen looked over at Tyler, and gave him two raised eyebrows, then handed the photo back.
“Irrelevant,” Glen told her.
“How is your husband cozying up to some strange woman irrelevant, Mr. Merriwether?”
“Because he immediately confessed to me, apologized, and made up for it.” Glen was getting tired of the conversation, but he understood why Tyler had stopped to talk to her.
