Bermuda Conspiracy

by K D McNiven

  Bermuda

  Conspiracy

  A fusion of strange science, government conspiracy,

  and a terrorist plot

  K.D. MCNIVEN

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are

  the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned,

  or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  All rights reserved Copyright © 2019

  by K.D. McNiven

  Book cover art by:

  Jared Shear

  This book is dedicated to my family, to David, Ryan, Sarah and Brittany for all of their invaluable support. This work would never have been written or published without them. They are my inspiration.

  Character Profile

  Jade II crew

  *Decker Hayden

  *Callie Hayden

  Captain: Carson Perry

  First Mate: Ryn Lansing

  Deckhand: Pete Polly (Polly)

  Chef: Phil Simms

  Maintenance: Ted Bingham

  Shark Eater Crew

  *Dax Drake

  Captain: Manny Auclaire

  Maritime Simulator Tech & Hydrographer: Linus Hinrick

  Maritime Archaeologist: Otto Benedikt

  Marine Biologist/Scientist: Karina Gustoff

  Maritime Archaeologist: Chase Vanderpool

  New Orleans Police Dept.

  Detective Brock Scanlin

  Detective Raymond Brodsky (Brodsky)

  Officer: Cash Bailey

  Central Intelligence Agency

  CIA Director: Gordon Pierce

  Martin Ludwick

  James Schell

  Special Ops:

  Dean McDermott

  Miscellaneous Characters:

  National Weather Advisory: Harry Patton

  Dive shop owner: Derrick Lasslo

  Riverman: Cal Fanchon

  Detective Brock’s Daughter: Kari Striker

  Granddaughter: Niki

  Brodsky’s Sister: Camille Brodsky

  Rafiq Naifeh

  Amena Naifeh

  Ismael Safar

  Author’s note: Tucker Island is a fictitious Island in the Bermuda Triangle.

  Bermuda Conspiracy is an action, science-fiction thriller novel. The book is filled with a lot of conflict and suspense, and has plenty of twists and turns to keep you involved in the story.

  It’s a bit of a jump from the other two Decker and Callie adventures, The Monkey Idol and Shark Eater, but even though I’ve blurred the edges of my genre, my hope is that you will enjoy reading Bermuda Conspiracy as much as I enjoyed writing it. K.D.

  Chapter 1

  ⁂

  Miami, Florida

  Callie Hayden put her book aside when her husband, Decker, came rushing through the door, her Jade-colored eyes flickering up curiously as she glimpsed the mischievous grin on his face. She had been married long enough to know when Decker had something up his sleeve.

  Dressed in his trademark Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and leather sandals, he strode over to her and extended his hand. “C’mon.”

  “What are you up to Hayden?” she smiled while clasping his fingers.

  He pulled her to her feet and led her to the door. “A surprise,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling with a devilish slant. “Grab your purse.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see soon enough.” He led her from the rental house to their BMW, and leaning inside, he pulled out a long black scarf. “Okay. Turn around. You have to wear this unsightly blindfold until we get you to your surprise.”

  Callie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding! You want me to wear a blindfold through the streets of Miami? Don’t you think it might draw a bit of attention?”

  He threw up his hands. “Don’t care. You’re going to have to play along with me if you want your surprise.”

  She shrugged with resignation. Turning her back to him, she rolled her eyes thinking how ridiculous it must look, though she had to admit, he had her curiosity pricked.

  Once he’d secured the scarf and helped her into the car, he rushed around to the driver’s side, a feeling of excitement rippling through him. He couldn’t wait to see Callie’s expression when she saw what he’d purchased.

  They drove three miles before Decker swerved off the main freeway and onto a side street. It didn’t take Callie long to figure out where they were once she’d caught the scent of salt and fish, heard the clanging of booms, and the shrill cry of seagulls.

  Decker turned off the key, slid from the leather seat, and rushed to the other side of the car to open Callie’s door. He gently took her arm and pulled her along behind him.

  “Decker, I must look hideous right now,” she said. “Can I take this off?”

  “Not yet, Callie. Be patient.”

  “Easy for you to say, Hayden. You aren’t the one being dragged along the docks with a blindfold on!”

  “Be a sport.”

  Rationalizing with Decker was a dead-end street, so she dropped the matter and shuffled along behind him, hoping she wouldn’t stumble over something and fall flat on her face. She could only imagine what the people along the docks were thinking. Worse, she hadn’t even combed her hair! The only consolation, she’d drawn it up and secured it with an elastic ponytail holder, the loose strands brushing against her neck from the warm breeze. At least she wasn’t in her pajamas, she mused.

  Their shoes clunked against the wooded ramp as Decker assisted her down a short flight of stairs. After several steps down the walkway, he stopped her, grabbed her shoulders, and turned her sideways. “Ready?”

  “A long while back,” she admitted. Yet, she felt the flood of anticipation rising inside.

  When he removed the blindfold, Callie stood in stunned silence, unable to tear her gaze away from the one hundred and thirty-foot Westport, tri-deck motor yacht. Painted on the side, the name Jade II. Tears rimmed her eyes, and on tip-toes, she threw her arms lovingly around Decker’s neck.

  “I can’t believe it, Decker,” she whispered. “It looks so much like the Jade used to look…except much larger. When did you do this?”

  “Over the past couple of weeks. I figured since the Jade was blown to smithereens, and we’ve sold our Malibu home, we’d need a place to stay outside of our cozy apartment.”

  “Ahoy!” came a booming voice top deck.

  Callie grinned. It was Carson Perry, dressed from top to bottom in his white Captain’s uniform. Carson had been with them for nearly five years and had manned the Jade, their 70-foot Hateras yacht.

  “Come on board. Take a look around,” he called out, a happy smile on his face. He could only imagine the joy rippling through Callie.

  She climbed the ladder to board. “It’s beautiful!” she squealed clapping her hands like a school girl.

  Decker stood back watching her from afar, his arms folded across his chest. It was a satisfying picture. The months leading up to this had been difficult. Painful, in fact. They’d attended two funerals for a couple of good friends who’d lost their lives when the Jade had been sabotaged off the Hawaiian coast.

  This life-altering incident had triggered Decker and Callie to make the decision to sell their home in Malibu, California. When they had signed the papers and packed their belongings, they headed to Miami where they rented a small apartment until they could find a house to purchase.

  Because archaeology was their greatest ambition, Decker went out on his own to purchase another, much larger yacht than the la
st one, with added equipment for subaquatic research, something he had become enamored with on their last shipwreck adventure with salvager, Dax Drake. His ship, the Shark Eater, had superior capabilities for underwater archaeology, including a dry and wet lab.

  Decker didn’t need to ask Callie how she felt about the whole idea of another yacht. He could see happiness brimming in her teary eyes.

  “Decker, I can’t believe you did this.”

  “Thought you might like it.”

  “Like it? I love it! When do we disembark?”

  “I think we could take her out for a test drive. What do you think Carson?”

  “Soon as the crew arrives. They’ve already been apprised of the situation,” he replied. “Have to say, they are more than a little excited.”

  As if on cue, Carson saw Ted Bingham, their maintenance man, coming down the steps and onto the docks, along with Phil Simms, their chef, and Pete Polly, whom the crew called Polly.

  Polly, a bulk of a man, sported a flaming red beard and long, wavy, red hair. Everyone on board agreed Polly looked like a Nordic Viking. All he needed was a helmet with horns. He was a fisherman’s son and had grown up on the water. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about boats, engine repair, and he had a sixth sense about unforeseen weather disruptions. Said he could feel it in his bones.

  “Ahoy, mates,” Carson greeted. He removed his captain’s hat and tucked it under his arm, baring his usual buzz cut, brushed with gray. He beamed when he saw the crew coming. It had been much too long.

  Decker and Callie spotted a new face walking towards them from the pilot house. A young, slender man, roughly six feet tall, in his mid-twenties. Dressed in faded blue jeans complete with several slashes at the knees, white boat shoes, and a black T-shirt. He looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ Style magazine.

  Decker cocked his brow. Far as he knew, he’d never seen the man before and he passed a look over his shoulder at Carson, surprise written all over his richly tanned face.

  Carson waited for the young man to step up alongside them and dropped his hand on his shoulder. The man wore a wide smile, revealing a row of perfectly straight, shockingly-white teeth. His slate-blue eyes surveyed them, a bit of admiration flashing in their depths. He stretched out his hand to greet Decker, his shake firm and confident. Turning to Callie, he nodded his head politely.

  “This is Ryn Lansing,” Carson introduced. “My new first mate.”

  It was hard to read Decker’s face, but not Callie’s. Her eyes reddened with tears and she turned her head away slightly, battling back the waterworks threatening to spill. Replacing their first mate brought back a flood of memories.

  “Welcome aboard,” Decker managed to say. “Decker Hayden. My wife, Callie.”

  “Honored to meet you, Sir,” he said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Ryn graduated from Massachusetts Maritime Academy,” Carson said. “Comes highly qualified. You won’t be disappointed.”

  “I’m sure I won’t,” replied Decker.

  “Thank you, Sir.” He smiled, the dimples alongside his mouth deepening. Raking his hand through his silver-bleached hair, he looked fairly taken with meeting the Haydens as their reputation preceded them. They were highly regarded in the archaeological field, and Ryn couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do than act as the first mate on the Jade II, and get better acquainted with the Haydens at the same time.

  “Decker! Callie!” Polly belted out, throwing his arms crushingly around Decker. “Glad to see you.” When he released Decker, he turned to Callie and gave her a healthy squeeze, nearly winding her. “Missed the both of you.”

  “Likewise,” Callie said, still recovering from her meeting with Ryn, who was taking Shane Pierce’s place. It had only been a short time since they’d watched his casket being lowered into the ground and were forced to say their goodbyes. A chapter in their lives they would never fully recover from.

  “Looks like most of the team has arrived,” Decker said. “I can only say, I’m overwhelmed with the prospects of being together again.

  Polly wore a wide smile. He knew exactly what Decker meant. Their past adventures had knitted them together and it was like coming home—kindred spirits, Polly mused. “I’m ready to cast out to sea. I’ve been getting those inner stirrings—you know what I mean.”

  Decker laughed. He did indeed know what Polly meant. They loved being at sea, and they were more than ready to try out the new vessel to see how she fared.

  “I’m more than ready. We’ve been landlocked much too long. We need to regroup and spend time together…catch up on all of our shenanigans these past months. What do you think, Callie?”

  “Grab a bottle of champagne and christen this girl!” Callie grinned.

  Chapter 2

  ⁂

  Bermuda Triangle

  The Jade II scudded like a feather across the white-capped waves. Cyan-blue skies were brushed with horsetail clouds, and a warm breeze fluttered over the deck. It felt like old times—almost. The absence of Shane did not go unnoticed, but the crew kept a cheerful countenance as they went about their duties.

  Several hours out, Decker made his way to the pilot house to locate Carson. When he entered, he saw both Carson and Ryn looked preoccupied, studying the weather surveillance radar on the computer monitors. They passed a look over their shoulders when they heard Decker enter.

  “What’s up?” Decker asked, noticing the waves had gotten rougher and the sky had turned a charcoal-gray.

  Ryn pointed to the screen, a worrisome look creasing his brow. “The currents are shifting in rapid succession, and the waves are swelling at unprecedented rates. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “What’s our coordinates?” Decker staring up at the monitors bracketed to the wall.

  “70.⁰ West, 26.7⁰ North.”

  “Smack-dab in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle, wouldn’t you know it,” Decker said. He kept a steady gaze on the Acoustic Doppler current profiler, which enabled them to measure the velocity of the current, and leaned forward to eyeball the sonar charts, more than a little concerned by what he saw.

  The door burst open and Callie rushed into the room soaked from the downpour outside. “Did you see those weird looking clouds? What’s happening?”

  “Looks like we’re in for a super-charged storm,” Ryn said. “The satellite imagery shows the clouds are taking on a hexagonal shape overhead, and the winds are packing a punch right now at 25.6 knots.”

  “Hexagonal? What makes them form such a bizarre pattern?” she asked, staring out the window in awe at the quick turn of events.

  Ryn flashed her a side-glance and leveled his gaze on her. “I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen any until now. They’re called air-bombs, or a more scientific term, Rayleigh-Benard convection cells—a mouthful, isn’t it? The cells are rather like natural convection. It all begins with an upsurge of fluid heated from below, radiating upward. When the cool air from the cloud formations drive downward—it creates a mass of fluids like the pouring rain and hail we’re having right now—have I lost you?” Ryn asked.

  “Don’t think so,” she replied.

  “It’s the same process that produces thunderstorms, only in this case, it’s much more extreme,” Ryn said. “The hexagonal cloud formations can vary in sizes, some can be as much as fifty-five miles across, though that’s not all too common, they’re usually about two to three miles in diameter. When these violent downdrafts of cooled air strike the ocean surface it expands outward and can create massive waves and winds as high as one hundred miles per hour or equivalent to an EF-1 tornado. Sometimes higher.”

  “How much more?” asked Decker, a bit edgy at this point.

  “As much as one hundred and seventy miles per hour. If conditions are right, the wave formations can tower as much as forty-feet high and exhibit cyclone properties. Also, air bombs have the ability to alternate updrafts and downdrafts, which can generate a perfect st
orm.”

  Callie’s jaw dropped, and her heart picked up a beat. “What you’re telling us is we’re getting caught in a freak storm of unproportionable size?”

  Ryn looked distressed as he nodded his head. “It appears so.”

  “Why weren’t we warned by the NOAA?” she asked, eyes wide with fear.

  “Unfortunately, sporadic atmospheric cells are difficult to predict even with our sophisticated weather equipment.”

  “Warn the crew and have everyone lash down anything that could be hurled across the deck,” Decker shouted. “I’m heading to the dive station to secure the equipment. Callie would you go below and begin strapping any loose items you can find—whatever you think might break or become a projectile.”

  “Be careful, Decker!” Callie called out after him.

  Streaks of white light shot through the black sky, followed by loud claps of thunder. The howling wind intensified, the storm taking on a life of its own, mounting with terrifying force. With fearful realization, they knew nothing could stop it.

  Carson grabbed the hand mic, delivering a warning to the crew. His stomach dropped as the waves continued to swell. The Jade II crested and rolled port side. This would be a test of Ryn’s expertise, Carson determined, while watching the wind speed accelerate. The stories attached to the Bermuda Triangle kept flooding his mind, much as he tried to shake them. He had been at sea most of his life and he had never seen anything in comparison.

  “Okay, Ryn.” Carson slapped his back. “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  “One hell of a first day on the job, Captain!” he replied, staring out at the sweeping surge of rain, an icy finger of dread riding along his spine.

  ***

  Thrown viciously against the air-compressor, Decker made his way to the stern. A sharp pain shot through his hip. He gritted his teeth, stumbled forward, making a mad attempt to fasten down the equipment. The quaking hull made it a test of coordination and determination. Water crashed over him, threatening to loosen his grip and with numb fingers, he tied himself securely to the crane to keep from being swept into the sea while he worked. The uproarious wind increased, so powerful one of the lines broke free, swinging through the air with brute force. The metal bracket caught Decker on the side of his head. He staggered, his head whirling in darkness. As pain gripped him, he slumped to his knees, fighting to keep conscious.