Bermuda

by Karim Soliman

  "A simple request?" he echoed in disapproval. "There are formal procedures we should follow before we let someone like Jeff Burke go with you." He pointed his finger at her. "You misled our agent to violate those procedures."

  "I know shit about misleading your agent or the procedures that hinder an urgent mission like mine," snapped Heather. "If you have a problem with procedures, then you are investigating with the wrong person. Ask the one who violated them."

  "Would you please show me your phone?"

  That request in particular; she couldn't respond to it. Jay had warned against letting the NSA agents come close to her phone. In three minutes, they would be able to unveil their trick. "Excuse me?"

  "Your phone, Dr. Heather." Clark extended his arm across the desk. "Would you please hand it over?"

  "I have personal stuff on that device. You can't violate my privacy."

  "Let me decide what is personal and what is not, Dr." Clark glared at her, his arm still extended. "Now give me that phone."

  10. Zero Hour

  So, Daniel was now in charge.

  All eyes were on him. After Jay and Kenji's arrival, everybody was waiting for his decision, he knew, but it wasn't an easy one to make. Among the rest of the crew, he had been the closest one to Heather in the last three months. He knew how the Bermuda mission had ruined her latest fragile love story. Daniel had met Chris, her ex (before he became her ex), a couple of times, and he had to admit, the guy seemed nice. But Heather had totally been immersed in the Devil's Triangle.

  He remembered that night. They were late at the BUCC, working on the virtual model of the TBM Avenger. Her phone peeped and she didn't answer. Peeped twice and she swore. At the third time, she did pick up the phone, and God! Daniel wished she hadn't.

  "Better be something that important." She sounded so irked that Daniel could only pity the guy at the other end of the call. The guy who had barely seen his girlfriend in the last six weeks. Chris must have answered with something like: You know what, checking on you was a silly mistake. Because she said, "A grave mistake, you mean. I was loud and clear about calling me at this number."

  Chris might have said, Maybe it's better not to call you at all. Heather's curt answer was, "That would be better indeed." She ended the call, the phone rattling over the table as she shoved it.

  It wasn't the first conversation between Heather and Chris to end like that. However, for some reason, Daniel had a feeling about this one and he hoped he was wrong about it, but he wasn't. It was the last phone call between Heather and Chris.

  "Are we aborting mission, Daniel?"

  Santino's question brought Daniel back to the present moment. To the decision he had to make now.

  "We have been working hard on this." Daniel heaved a sigh. "We will do ourselves an injustice if we let our efforts go in vain."

  "Shame Heather won't be with us," Susan muttered, her head down.

  "Shame indeed." Burke had the guts to join the conversation.

  "Don't you know when to keep your mouth shut?" Daniel snapped at him. "She won't be with us because of you."

  "You blame me?" Burke scoffed. "May I ask you a question: why do you think I'm still here?"

  Daniel didn't grasp what Burke was hinting at. "What do you mean?"

  "They didn't arrest me, pal. I'm not the reason why the agents took her." Burke raised his cuffed hands. "Which reminds me: how long are you going to keep me like this? My wrists are getting itchy."

  Jay pulled Daniel gently by the arm. "If we are not aborting this mission, then we must leave now. Once they find Heather's phone, it will only be a matter of a few minutes before they discover how we were all involved."

  Jay's words were not helping at all. It wasn't about the mission now. It was about saving their own skins. Escaping to Bermuda Triangle. Could that be more ironic? "So, we are leaving Heather on her own that simple?"

  "You think it would help her if we turned ourselves in?" Jay countered. "The only thing we can do for her is make this mission succeed. That might justify everything she did." When Daniel glared at him, he harrumphed. "Everything we did."

  Running away to save Heather; that wouldn't sound too bad, Daniel must say. He could fool himself for the time being with this lame excuse.

  "Santi," Daniel called out. "Gather everybody inside. Kenneth, show our guest his seat next to Major Powell and don't remove his cuffs until we set off." He turned to Burke. "Trust me, you don't want to piss the Major off."

  Daniel hopped into the HG3 after everybody was on board. Definitely, it was the hugest hovercraft ever built, yet from inside it was narrower than it seemed. That protective skeleton probably constituted two thirds of the vessel size.

  Burke was seated beside Powell when Daniel entered the cockpit. "The zero hour has come, Major," Daniel told Powell. "We are good to go."

  Looking at Daniel, Powell pointed at Burke's cuffed hands. "What is this?"

  Daniel didn't know where he should begin. "Long story. But you can say he is our tour guide in the Triangle."

  The marine didn't seem satisfied at all with this answer. "I need to know why a handcuffed man is going to sit by my side on this mission."

  "See?" Burke gave Daniel a rebuking look. "You could have spared yourself the trouble if you had listened to me from the beginning."

  Daniel ignored Burke and took a deep breath. "We will not start with the red and yellow sites," he told Powell. "We shall be headed to an island that no one knows about except him."

  Powell looked Burke up and down before he turned to Daniel. "Are you asking me not to adhere to the official protocol of the mission?"

  Oh God! Give me patience! "We are the ones who decide the official protocol of the mission, Major." Daniel peered at Powell. "Your job is to make sure we reach the destination we tell you."

  "I'm not your damned Uber driver," Powell firmly said. "If this man is not eligible to keep his hands free, then he can't stay on board my vessel, let alone my cockpit."

  "If you insist." Daniel forced a smile before he turned to Kenneth. "The keys."

  Kenneth handed Daniel the keys. "For your own good, you had better be serious about your stupid island," Daniel warned Burke. "We have lost Heather because she believed in you and your tale."

  "My tale is true, and she was right when she believed in me," Burke hurriedly said. "I will prove you all wrong when you get into the Triangle."

  "I hope you will." Daniel unlocked the handcuffs and peered at Powell. "He is eligible now, Major."

  Powell chewed on his lip for a moment. "Very well." Reluctantly, he started the HG-3 engines. "The coordinates of our new destination?"

  "We don't need them," said Burke. "Just survive the storm and let me worry about the rest."

  Powell curled his lip in disdain as he looked from Burke to Daniel.

  After heaving another sigh, Daniel leaned toward Burke. "How do you plan to find the island, then, Dr. Burke?"

  "By following the stars."

  "Their constellations, you mean."

  Burke nodded.

  "Are you both serious?" Powell asked in disapproval.

  "We have no other means to guide us in the Triangle," Burke pointed out. "If we survive the electromagnetic storm. . . I mean after we do, the vessel navigation system will be obsolete."

  "The HG-3 can stand an electromagnetic storm, I was told." Powell glanced at Daniel.

  "Not the one inside the Triangle." Burke smiled at Daniel. "You should have brought some oars, just in case."

  Oars? Daniel hoped things would not go that bad. They were having a bad start already with Heather's absence. The team morale couldn't be worse.

  "We must go now, Major." Daniel was not hurried to start the mission as much as he wanted to end the conversation with Burke. "We have ninety-six hours to finish this mission. Let's make every minute count."

  Daniel sat next to Kenneth right behind the cockpit. The Major looked back, making a final check that everybody was in place. With the e
ngine already turned on, the HG-3 was ready to move to its. . .

  "Stop, Major! Stop!" Susan waved as she gazed through the window. "I see Heather coming."

  11. Into the Vanishing Zone

  The sky was clear and the ocean was calm; a perfect day for this expedition despite its rough start.

  The HG-3 was twenty minutes away from entering the 'vanishing zone' of the Triangle. Powell had wanted to 'sail' through the ocean to save as much of the engine power as possible for the ugly part of the ride, but Heather insisted on flying to save time. It made sense for the team as they all needed to make good use of their limited time to finish the mission, but to Heather that wasn't her only reason to do so. The farther she became from the Pentagon Headquarters, the more comfortable she felt.

  Her heart raced when Powell announced that only fifteen minutes remained before entering the Devil's Triangle. She left her seat and went to Burke at the cockpit. "Are you ready to act as our tour guide?"

  "You're the only one who believes in me." He gave her a grateful smile. "I shall not let you down."

  I hope so, she thought. "Good." She turned to the marine. "Major Powell, once we are inside the Triangle, we will follow Burke's lead."

  Powell nodded without looking at her. "No red or yellow sites, I was told."

  "Red and yellow?" Burke gazed at Powell before he asked Heather, "Is our pilot suffering from color blindness?"

  Powell frowned at Burke's jest. But probably, Burke wasn't joking in the first place.

  "Major Powell is fine." Heather patted Burke on the shoulder. "Those red and yellow points he mentions represent locations of all disappearance incidents in Bermuda Triangle." She gestured to Powell. "Would you please show him, Major? Thanks." Powell hadn't responded to her simple request yet, but she thanked him anyway. Reluctantly, he brought the map of events on the dashboard screen, Burke staring at it in obvious concern.

  "What are the colors for?" Burke asked.

  "Red is for the incidents after the seventies, yellow for before."

  "Seventies?" Burke gave her a lopsided smile. "Since 1965, no incident in Bermuda has been recorded except in 2005 and 2007. Why do I see twelve red points instead of two?"

  That was absurd. "Because there were ten other classified incidents, Burke. I guess you know that already."

  "I bet the officials responsible for the cover-up of those two incidents were fired."

  "We shouldn't reveal everything we know until we understand the reason behind it."

  Burke chuckled mockingly. "Now you talk like the Agency guys who used to interrogate me. Come on. You told me you were a scientist."

  "I was." What was she saying? "I mean I am."

  "Good." Burke's grin was so wide it showed his teeth, which were not perfect like Mr. Colgate's, though. "If I point at a particular point, can you name the incident date?"

  "Is that a Bermuda Quiz or what?" Not the right time to test her knowledge. Not when they were that close to the Triangle.

  "If you know the dates by heart—as I do—you will notice a pattern."

  Heather had to admit he piqued her curiosity—he always knew how to do so. "I don't notice a pattern, but it seems you can show me one." Now she noticed the silence that reigned over the cabin. Her conversation with Burke had grabbed the attention of a curious audience.

  "Look. Those happened in the new millennium." He pointed at several scattered circles on the screen. "Those in the eighties and the nineties." He indicated another group. "Those between the forties and the sixties." He gazed at her, as if he was waiting for her answer for this puzzle.

  "What? Is it that obvious?"

  Burke grinned. "It should be now."

  "The range of the Triangle is shrinking." Sitting in his place, Daniel decided to take part in solving the puzzle. From the satisfied look on Burke's face, Heather could tell that Daniel's guess was right.

  "Your team is not that bad, though," Burke teased her.

  "Maybe you're right—about the Triangle, I mean." Heather ignored his gloating smile. "But where would that lead us?"

  "Whatever the force governing Bermuda, it's fading out," said Burke. Glancing back, Heather observed the impact of the 'force' on her team.

  "We have an island to find, Burke." She managed a smile. "Why don't you focus on how we are going to reach it?"

  "You are absolutely right." Burke turned to Powell. "Tell me, Major: can this amazing hovercraft dive?"

  "Yes, it can," replied Powell, "Why do you ask?"

  "Because you need to get this vessel to a lower altitude and be ready to hit the ocean," said Burke. "Now."

  "What is this nonsense?" Powell glanced at Heather. "We don't have to dive, at least for the coming ten minutes. The weather is clear—"

  "Do you want to enjoy the experience of free falling in a hundred-ton hovercraft?" Burke cut him off. "Okay. Be my guest, Major."

  "What is it, Burke?" Heather asked

  "A storm is coming," replied Burke, "and please don't tell me it's not on the screen. In my previous journey, I haven't received a warning before both the Atlantic Ocean and its sky went mad."

  Powell shot Heather an inquisitive look, as if he waited for her say to confirm the order he had just received from Burke.

  "We will do what Burke says, Major," Heather decided. "He knows what—"

  Her peeping cell cut her off. Wondering why her boss would call her now, she cautiously replied, "Yes?"

  "They found your phone, Heather," her boss curtly said.

  "What phone, sir?" Heather tried to pretend she didn't understand what he was talking about.

  "The one you used to make your fake call." Her boss's voice was getting a bit harsher. "The one you dropped on the road to make us chase a false clue."

  Revealing her simple trick wasn't a surprise to her. When she got rid of the phone she had used in tricking that agent Jonathan, she knew she was just buying herself some time until she could get away from the eastern coast. The look on Clark's face was priceless when his technicians told him that Heather's phone—the useless one she had handed him during her brief interrogation—was clean.

  What surprised and irked her a bit was something else.

  "Us?" She couldn't help grimacing when she echoed the word. "Were you chasing me as well?"

  Her boss sighed. "It's not what it sounds like, Heather. Yes, I was chasing you indeed, but my reasons were different, mind you. You have been improvising for the last few days, and I'm really worried where your reckless moves will end you at."

  Powell indicated with his fingers that only two minutes remained for entering the Triangle. "I must end this call now, sir. We're about to enter Bermuda."

  "You may have managed to get away from them this time," said the SecNav. "But I assure you, they will be waiting for your safe return."

  Her safe return? She could only hope. But her faint hope didn't survive more than a couple of seconds. The vessel started to shudder.

  "Told ya." Burke gave Powell a gloating smile. "A storm is coming."

  12. A List of the Worst Conditions

  The vessel was shaking as if it weighed nothing for the blowing wind, yet the nervous look on Powell gave Burke a sense of satisfaction. They all doubted me. They all took me for a fool, Burke thought. Now it was time to see who the real fool here was.

  If any of the fools survived in the first place.

  The HG-3, or whatever they called it, wobbled so hard that Heather had to clutch Burke's shoulder to maintain her balance—he didn't complain by the way. Burke held her by the arm. "You must go to your seat and buckle up," he urged her. "The storm will only get uglier."

  Only a few steps separated the cockpit and the passengers' cabin, yet amid that vigorous wobbling, the distance seemed endless. "Can you make it?" Burke asked her.

  She nodded. But the moment she let go of him to head to her seat in the passengers' cabin, she failed to hold her ground, her back slammed against the wall.

  "Heather! Are you okay?"
Burke left his seat and struggled to reach her, hitting the wall two times before he managed to hold Heather by the arm. Daniel unbuckled his seat belt and with one hand he reached out to Heather, the other gripping his seat arm. "Hold on to him," Burke urged her, not surprised if Daniel didn't care whether Burke was hurt or not. "Go back to your seats and buckle up," he addressed Daniel and Heather, no one paying him heed, though. Now he had to worry about his return journey to his seat in the cockpit. After falling twice on the floor, he found his way to his spot next to Powell.

  "Damn!" Powell growled. "Where did those clouds come from?"

  "I bet you have never seen anything like that." Unlike Burke, who still remembered every moment of his first ride into Bermuda, as if it was yesterday. Well, not every moment to be honest. He must have lost his consciousness for a few minutes when the waves had slapped him and his boat. He had thought he was drowning, but all of a sudden, he had found himself lying on his back on board his pathetic boat, which had survived the mighty storm by some miracle.

  Powell must be doing his best to keep the vessel steady while descending, but Burke wasn't expecting anything more than a desperate attempt. The wind speed went insane without any previous warning, the clouds so heavy that the horizon vanished. "Sit tight, everyone!" A lovely piece of advice from the Major. What the hell do you think they are doing right now?

  "I thought the HG-3 would be stronger than that," muttered Burke.

  "It could be worse." Powell didn't seem sure in his rocking seat.

  "It will be worse, Major," Burke managed a smile, his lips pressed together, "if you don't dive with that thing now."

  "You survived that storm before, right?" Heather asked from behind him.

  "Yes." Burke looked for a gap in the gray curtain ahead of them. "Except that I was on a boat, not hanging in the sky."

  "She will make it," said Heather. "I requested that hovercraft to be as such to stand the worst conditions it might encounter."

  "Did you provide its makers with a list of those worst conditions?" Burke's head would hit the control panel if it were not for the seatbelt.