“Not that we’ve heard of,” Amy said. “Instead, what we’ve heard is that a couple times a year empty boats drift out to sea from the island. Some of them are recognized by local sailors, others look like they’re sailing yachts that have come — like you suggested before, from across the Atlantic — but all of them share one similarity.”
“What’s that?”
“They’re all riddled with bullet holes. Some have blood inside. Never bodies — living or dead. Just a lot of blood.”
“Interesting,” Sam said. Turning to Colin he asked, “Before you sounded like you had an explanation, but weren’t sure if you wanted to voice it. Care to share?”
The muscles around Colin’s jaw tightened. “I’d rather not.”
“What if it might save Tom and my life?” Sam held his breath. “They say knowledge is power. Right now, all we know is that we’re going into a ghost island that keeps sending bullet ridden boats back out to sea. Care to shed any more light on what you suspect is going on out there on the island?”
Colin opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. He took a deep breath. “All right. But you’re not going to like it.”
Sam said, “Go on.”
“It’s an old US military base.”
“Really? There’s no record of the US government ever owning it.”
“There wouldn’t be, would there?”
“Why?”
“Because they’re doing illegal experiments on people.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
At eight-thirty a.m. the Alessandra dropped anchor roughly three miles out from the island, putting up a set of offshore fishing rods just for good measure.
Sam examined the shoreline with a pair of high-powered binoculars.
His brow furrowed.
Tom asked, “What’s wrong?”
Sam handed him the binoculars. “Here, have a look for yourself.”
Tom took them, adjusting the lens into focus. “I thought the place was meant to be a barren wasteland filled with volcanic rock?”
“Yeah, me too.”
Instead, it was covered with the dense vegetation of a tropical jungle. At a glance, it was easy to imagine someone hiding anything from the remains of an A380 through to a government’s illegal laboratory, where they tested human subjects.
Sam stepped down into the pilothouse and opened his laptop. He brought up the most recent satellite image, taken about an hour earlier, and then emailed by Elise.
He studied the images. Where the island was covered in dense jungle now appeared to be volcanic rock, the island looked barren in the satellite photographs.
Tom stared at the laptop from over Sam’s shoulder. “Well, that’s strange.”
Sam made a spooky sound with his voice. “See, that’s why they call it a strange island.”
“Somehow I’m not buying it.”
Sam met his eye. “You think it’s all a giant trick done by mirrors? Some sort of sleight of hand done on a large scale?”
“Yep. Beats me how they’re doing it. But they’ve already proven they’re not lacking in technical resources.”
“I wonder if Elise has any ideas. More importantly, I wonder if she could get us an image of the island that looks more like it does in real life.”
“Try her.”
Sam picked up the satellite phone and dialed Elise’s number from memory.
“How’s Puerto Rico?” she asked.
“Nice. I’ll let you know when we get back there.”
“What can I do for you, Sam?”
“The images you sent of the island this morning… where did they come from?”
“It’s a satellite surveillance system, originally built for the Pentagon, but now used by a number of agencies, ranging from the Department of Defense, through to Search and Rescue. The images were taken at 07:04 today, so they should be the most up to date. Why?”
“They’re fakes.”
“What do you mean, fakes?”
“They show a desolate island without any vegetation.”
“And?”
“I’m looking at the island through binoculars and the entire thing is as thick as the Colombian jungle.”
There was silence on the line for a few seconds.
“Did you hear what I said, Elise?”
“I heard you, Sam. That’s really interesting.”
“You have a theory?”
“Sure, I do.”
Sam grinned. “You want to share that theory?”
“It has nothing to do with the island….”
“Then why can’t we get a good visual?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with the island…”
“Meaning?”
“I believe someone from the CIA has intentionally altered the satellite surveillance system to make it appear different.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sam and Tom dropped over the Alessandra’s rail simultaneously.
Sam waited a moment until he was just a few feet underwater, and pressed the start button on his RS1 Military Grade Sea Scooter. Nearby, Tom did the same. The underwater diver propulsion vehicles were small, hand-held, electric devices used by SCUBA divers and free-divers for underwater propulsion. They weighed less than twenty pounds each, and had a water bladder, designed to automatically control the diver’s buoyancy.
“Are you ready?” Sam asked, speaking into the underwater radio mounted into his full face mask.
“Good to go,” Tom replied.
“All right, let’s go kick over a hornet’s nest.”
He used his right thumb to depress the speed rate button, and the little propeller began to spin with a whine. The RS1 Sea Scooter had three speed settings. Sam checked his compass bearing, and then flicked the setting to its fastest speed.
The sea scooter raced forward toward the island, maneuvering like a small motorcycle underwater. It was nearly four miles to their south, which took them forty-two minutes to reach. They slowed their speed as they brought the sea scooters into a fringing coral reef through a narrow channel. The satin water turned into a vibrant landscape of colorful fish on a canvas of blue, green, and yellow coral that climbed out from a bed of seaweed, filled with brown and orange hues.
Sam eased his sea scooter toward the shore. Several banded sea snakes, with their classic white and black stripes, swam by with indifference. Sam and Tom shuffled out of their way. The highly venomous snakes rarely attacked humans, but no reason to tempt fate.
Above a small crevasse in the coral reef, Sam cut the power to his sea scooter, and flooded its buoyancy control bladder, making it sink to the bottom. Tom copied him, bringing his scooter around and laying it down side by side in the shallow reef. Both then removed their scuba gear, grabbed their waterproof carry bags, and swam to the surface — leaving all of their dive equipment carefully hidden beneath the reef.
With just his dive mask on, Sam swam to the shore.
On the beach, the two men quickly made their way into the shelter of the thick tropical jungle. Concealed by the vegetation, Sam opened his water tight bag. Inside he removed a towel and dried himself, before putting on another Hawaiian shirt — there must have been a special on at the local giftshop. He then laid the towel on the ground and then, almost ritualistically, he placed his Heckler and Koch MP5 on it.
The nine-millimeter, German designed, submachine gun was popular with military divers around the world, because its sealed chamber gave it excellent reliability even fully submerged. He removed the magazine, opened the chamber and checked that it was free from any bullets. It was clean and its parts were well oiled. He then tested the firing mechanism. It tapped forward with a firm clicking sound.