Beneath the Dragon's Triangle

By Tony Dellamarco

If you could pound a stake through the heart of the Bermuda Triangle until it appeared on the opposite side of the Earth, you would be in the dreaded Dragon’s Triangle. What better place to hide a weapon of mass destruction?

A simple phone call from a friend at sea throws Andrea, a graduate of Yale University with a PhD in biomedical engineering, into a world of espionage and intrigue. Did her friend, a deep-sea diver working for a company repairing communication cables, really find a mysterious object buried one thousand feet below the ocean’s surface, and could it be of any importance? Why did this phone call from the billions made each day trigger a covert group, a remnant of Nazi Germany, to come out of the shadows to claim this object, and, like a virus, systematically destroy anyone who stands in its way of recovering what it lost so many years ago? The reputation of the Dragon’s Triangle for unexplained events is just beginning a new chapter.

An obvious neophyte in this deadly game where people are starting to disappear, Andrea has nowhere to turn. A chance encounter with a NYPD officer might strengthen her chance of survival. Sean is a retired Navy SEAL officer who teams up with Andrea only to find that they are both in over their heads. The enemy seems to have limitless power, and there is only one person Sean knows who can help them stay alive. He turns to Paul O, a man of great wealth who owns a company that builds ships and satellites for the U.S. government. A private war breaks out with Paul, Andrea, and Sean, pitted against an unknown, fanatical group that takes place in the air, on and beneath the sea, and on land. Will they survive, and if they do, how will it change them?

Three people from different walks of life meld into a tenacious team, never giving up when the chips are down and all seems lost. Who will be the first to sacrifice their life for the others, and does Andrea stay a victim, or does she become a force to reckon with that takes the strongest of men by surprise?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tony Dellamarco
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463132425

Tony Dellamarco

Tony Dellamarco is an engineer turned teacher turned author. His lifelong passion for writing led to the publication of professional articles throughout his engineering career. He has also written several stories for children, including The Great Race, on understanding the doubling of numbers, two others for a Great Pyrenees periodical, ODE to A Great PYR and Great Bear the Great PYR, and The Little Star and Tubby the Tugboat, that have been read in elementary school classrooms. He completed two additional yet to be published novels, The Raptors and The Cranberry Chalice, designed to capture the imaginations of teenagers and adults alike. A graduate of Arizona State University (ASU) with a bachelor’s degree in business administration, and Mount Saint Mary College, Newburgh, New York with a master’s degree in education, he has years of technological and educational training. His first job was with IBM where he started working in the Quality Control and Engineering departments. After 27 years he finished his IBM career as a senior engineer. He then taught 10th and 11th grade history and science at the Minisink Valley Central School District in upstate New York. Throughout his life he’s been an avid sportsman and has trained in power lifting and a variety of martial arts. At 19 he earned a scuba diving certification and piggybacked a pilot’s license at the same time. When he’s not writing or conjuring science fiction novels, he enjoys teaching his grandchildren how to drive his tractor while working the fields around his home in the Hudson Valley.

Book preview

Beneath the Dragon’s Triangle

Tony Dellamarco

This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by Anthony Dellamarco

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission.

Cover Design by Angela Stevens (Cat’s Pyjamas Design)

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Thank You

About the Author

Acknowledgements

For my loving wife, Lorraine.

Prologue

Her eyes fluttered as she violently shook her head trying to clear the confusion in her brain. What was happening to her? She shook her head again in a vain attempt to regain her composure. Damn! What’s wrong with me? No! No! This can’t be happening. It can’t be. Her heart pounded as it fought to keep her conscious. Then the dreadful truth came to her. Oh, my God! It’s oxygen deprivation!

An avid reader and historian, she had read about oxygen deprivation and its effects on WWII crewmen flying in B-17 bombers on their way to destroy German targets. If no immediate action was taken to rectify the situation, the outcome was not pleasant. Her mind cleared for a few seconds as she panicked, forcing adrenalin into her system. Self-preservation was now the primary goal. Her eyes widened. Fear rolled over her body like an ocean wave breaking against the shore. The reality of her mortality suddenly became apparent. She looked over to her left and saw… His name escaped her, but she knew from his facial expression that he was laughing at her plight. The bastard knew what was happening to her.

Oh, God, she moaned.

Instinctively, she feebly grabbed for his oxygen mask, Why?! Why?!

Forcefully, he slapped her hand out of the way and pinned it high on her left thigh. Smiling beneath his mask, he looked down at her and squeezed his hand as hard as he could, causing her to flinch. It was the reaction he wanted; it was the final indignation. He removed his hand from her thigh and placed it under her chin, lifting it until she was looking directly at him. The wickedness in his voice echoed in her headset.

Because you know too much, bitch, because you know too much.

Chapter 1

Bavaria, Germany, March, 1945

When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall… think of it, always.

Mohandas Gandhi

To most people, the outlook for Germany at the end of World War II looked bleak at best. There were millions of people dead and entire cities bombed to rubble. Starvation and disease were rampant. Only an elite group of Nazis looked at this destruction as nothing more than collateral damage – a means to a glorious end.

Straightening his uniform, Major General Hans Kaufmann made sure the fit was perfect. At six foot two inches tall, with blond hair and blue eyes, he projected an air of superiority. Satisfied with his appearance, he moved in a precision-like manner to an area where he could admire the vista from his private room. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Moving away from the balcony, he watched as his mistress opened the door to greet the visitor. A man of equal stature and appearance stood in the doorway. Good, he’s finally here. The general allowed the usual exchange of formalities before interrupting. You have done your job well, Fraulein. Now you can leave while the colonel and I have a little chat.

The young lady, in her twenties, smiled seductively, What time would you like me back?

Come back for cocktails, and don’t be late, Hans replied.

She turned and winked at the colonel before leaving them to their own devices.

You have quite the place here, General. The view is certainly awe-inspiring.

This was General Kaufmann’s retreat, located near the Austrian border. The owner of this resort hotel was a loyal friend and strong supporter of Germany’s war effort. The area was pristine with majestic mountains that fed the lakes with melted spring snow.

Sitting down at the dinner table he motioned for the colonel to join him. In a few months, Germany will surrender and the Allies will think they are the victors. He lit up a Cuban cigar and drew on it before continuing, Timing is everything, Colonel Wilhelm.

An audible grunt came from deep within Wilhelm, acknowledging the statement as being correct.

Placing his cigar on the ashtray, Hans smiled as he clasped his hands before setting them on top of the table. Well, the Americans have played right into the Fuehrer’s Grand Plan. Fear of the Russians’ stumbling on and capturing our rocket scientists has forced President Truman to launch a countermeasure. ‘Operation Paperclip’ is what they are calling it.

Wilhelm snickered before replying, Only in America could they come up with a name like that. Makes you wonder how they are managing to beat the Japanese.

Hans offered him a cigar, but he declined. No, thanks. I’ve taken a liking to American cigarettes. Opening a fresh pack of Camels after slapping it into his palm several times, he pulled out a cigarette, put it to his lips, and lit it. He caught Hans’ inquisitive look. Black Market. For the right price you can buy just about anything these days.

Hans smiled as he passed an ashtray to Wilhelm. Our intelligence sources have informed me that Operation Paperclip has the primary objective of finding and capturing as many of our top engineers and scientists as possible.

Wilhelm slowly exhaled, attempting to create circles of smoke before answering, You are correct.

General Hans Kaufmann, head of a top secret German program named War Decisive, was one of the few high ranking people Wilhelm admired. No other war directive was as important as this one, not even the work being done by the Germans at their atomic bomb and rocket facilities. Their top secret device, called the Nazi Bell, was the only research and development program of its type in the world. What is the status of the Bell’s test platform?

A slight nod from Wilhelm verified that the agents sent to Wenceslas Mine completed their mission − the total destruction of the site and including the execution of all personnel associated with the program.

Good. The last thing we want to do is give our enemies knowledge of our accomplishments in electromagnetic energy. We must buy some time for our plan to be put in place and carried out. Hans inhaled slowly, withdrew the Cuban from his mouth and exhaled. He was definitely a cool customer. To watch him, one would think he had all the time in the world, and that Germany would soon be victorious. As the saying goes, ‘they will win the battle, but lose the war.’ In a very short period of time the Allied forces won’t know what hit them. While boasting about our defeat, they will suddenly begin to fall like the ashes from this cigar. The reflection of the sun light bounced off the table, magnifying his strong facial features. This was the look of a warrior, emanating the confidence of a victorious man. And from our seed we will set in motion the 1,000-year reign of Earth’s only true super race. Our higher intelligence can be traced to every dominant civilization ever to walk the Earth. It is only right that we take back what is naturally ours.

The force and execution of key words in Hans’ voice motivated Wilhelm to add on his own belief. And those that survive will become our slaves, as will their children and descendants, until the end of time. It will be a fitting and glorious retribution for our future generations.

This was exactly what Hans wanted to hear. Confirmation that he was totally committed to the program. Hmm, speaking of our offspring, has my mate been selected and processed so she can accompany me to America?

There was a moment’s silence before Wilhelm answered. It has been done. The best female of the breed is to be your married mate, and your offspring will carry the torch into our glorious future.

As well as your mate. I understand she is quite the looker with a body to match. Hans’ broad whimsical smile caught Wilhelm’s attention. It seemed out of place with the seriousness of what was being discussed.

When Wilhelm realized what Hans was referring to, he couldn’t help but laugh, which momentarily interrupted Hans. Indeed, their mates did have the looks of beautiful stage and screen actresses. They had it all, superior intelligence, strength, and beauty, which would be passed on to the next generation.

Hans continued, I surmise the vaccine will be available when and if our children will need it to protect them from the mutational virus?

A slight nod from Wilhelm confirmed that he was correct – everything was going as planned. Hans’ posture relaxed slightly and, with a look of contentment, he continued, What more could a man ask for?

Wilhelm conveyed his agreement with a slight smile. Indeed, what more could they ask for? The future was theirs for the taking. Everyone who has been selected to carry out this mission is ready to go. All we have to do is walk over to the Americans and give ourselves up.

Wilhelm was not surprised at Hans’ prolonged silence. He was known to go into an almost hypnotic trance when analyzing information to make sure that the outcome and the plan were in sync. When he was convinced that the plan was solid, he leaned forward as if he were going to whisper something.

Have you made contact with Wernher von Braun’s group?

Dr. von Braun, the genius behind Germany’s rocket program, was a man of many wonders. Not only was he an outstanding engineer and a natural born leader, but he was also one of the few who could organize, design, and oversee the construction of the huge underground facilities to build the world’s first ballistic missiles, the V2.

Wilhelm explained the facts as they were known at that point in time.

As expected, Dr. von Braun was doing everything in his power to avoid being captured by the Russians. Knowing that the SS was killing German scientists and engineers to prevent their capture by either the Americans or Russians had forced him into survival mode. For von Braun there were only two choices, be captured by the Americans, or by the Russians. Having a natural disdain for the Russians, he chose the Americans. This was a choice Hans planned von Braun would make. This way he could monitor von Braun’s behavior when all hell was unleashed on the United States via an unstoppable virus and flying machines with a hundred times more power than von Braun’s outdated flimsy rockets. This was the macabre side of Hans.

Behind von Braun’s back, and unbeknownst to but a few, were the teams of engineers and scientists being deliberately left behind to be picked up by the Russians. This way the balance of power between the two countries would remain equal.

Hans’ gaze fixated on a picture of the Red Baron hanging on the far wall, Then our plan is working. Von Braun doesn’t have the slightest idea that he is nothing more than a pawn being used to fulfill Germany’s true mission. Once the Americans and Russians see the capability of these new weapons, they will become more distrustful of each other. I am sure it won’t take long before an arms race ensues, and their focus will be on each other, not us. If all goes as planned, they will soon be mortal enemies. Who knows? They might even lob a few of von Braun’s new rockets at each other, carrying the soon to be antiquated atomic bombs.

Wilhelm cut in, They won’t have the time. In about a year, there won’t be enough of them left to throw spears at each other, let alone rockets.

Thinking of his enemies reduced to tribal warfare, Hans, completely relaxed, leaned back and placed his feet on the table, satisfied with how the events would be unfolding. Do you know if von Braun has made contact with the Americans?

We know he has sent out his brother Magnus, to make preliminary contact. Once it’s made, von Braun will defect with his group of scientists and engineers to America. Then he can play with his toy rockets all he wants.

Does he have any objections to our joining him and his group?

None whatsoever.

A clever lie had von Braun believing that they too, were escaping the wrath of the SS and wanted to go to America with their wives to start a new life. Once in America, they would support his desire to build rockets. The plan was that while he was entertaining the Americans with his rockets, they would be free to proceed with the Fuehrer’s master plan.

What about the doctor? Have you heard anything, Wilhelm?

He cleared his throat. Last night, Doctor Handler called confirming our appointments to be inoculated with the antidote. We are to meet him at the staging facility tomorrow night at 1930 hours, along with the other chosen ones.

Hans looked intently at Wilhelm. Is the virus as deadly as rumored?

Toying with the ashtray, tipping it from end to end until the ashes slid from one side to the other, Wilhelm replied, You mean, is it as deadly as reported by the lab?

Hans grinned, Exactly!

I can assure you, it is as deadly as they say. I’ve seen the results of the experiments on some of our Jewish guinea pigs. It has a ninety percent fatality rate.

And those who survive? There was a sadistic excitement in Hans’ voice.

Wilhelm smiled broadly. Those who survive the high fever have permanent brain damage. From the statistical data we have gathered on the virus, they will have an average overall IQ in the low sixties to seventies. And the best part is that the damage to the survivors is permanent, and passed on to their offspring – perfect slaves for the new Reich.

Wilhelm had Hans’ full attention and curiosity. He wanted to know more, especially the symptoms of this deadly disease. What’s it like? I mean, how does it work?

Breaking in, Wilhelm elaborated, It starts out mimicking a simple cold, a sore throat, a slight fever, some aches and pains. And here’s the beauty, there is nothing drastic to alarm the victim. He paused and deliberately refocused his attention to the ashtray, enjoying stringing Hans along.

And then? Hans queried with an air of annoyance.

Placing the ashtray firmly on the table and looking directly into his eyes, It attacks the brain, turning it into useless mush. From start to finish, death occurs in about five days for the fortunate ninety percent. The survivors are ours.

A sinister smile spread across Hans’ face. Then we are ready!

Wilhelm nodded, We should be in America within a few months. Once there, we will split up, moving into predetermined areas of the country, and begin preparing for the takeover.

What about the underground facilities? Have they all been destroyed?

Grinding his cigarette into the ashtray, Wilhelm smirked, No, we left several of the rocket facilities intact to fool and distract both the American and Russian militaries.

Hans took a final puff on his cigar and snuffed it out. That makes sense. Our intelligence has confirmed that our rocket program is twenty years ahead of those of both our enemies. They will think they have stumbled onto the gift of the century.

Smiling, Wilhelm placed his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his chair, Until it is too late, my friend, until it is too late!

Oh, the arrogance of man. Even the best plans can be delayed by unforeseen circumstances.

Chapter 2

Pacific Ocean, Present Day

How’s the weather, Ramos? Here in New York City it’s in the eighty’s and clear.

Aimlessly pacing the deck with cell phone in hand, Ramos wanted to forgo the small talk. His impatience and thoughtless comments often got him into arguments, or worse, but he had no choice but to play along.

Weather here in the Pacific is hot and humid. If it wasn’t for the ocean breeze it wouldn’t be bearable. I really miss you.

Andrea raised her arms in the air. Here we go again. Like clockwork. Two weeks out and the conversations turn into the same old thing. How close are you to the job site, and when are you scheduled to dive?

Tomorrow. I’m scheduled for a deep dive by late morning.

Be careful, Ramos.

Yea, yea, I know. He stopped pacing when he approached the ship’s railing. She’s trying to change the subject. Enough of this nonsense. Andrea, you know that I want to take our relationship to the next level.

Damn! As if it was her turn, Andrea started to walk from room to room in her apartment while nervously playing with her hair. She was not a confrontational person, and this was making her uncomfortable. We’ve been through this before, Ramos. I enjoy your company when we are together and our conversations, but that’s all I want. Can’t you accept the friendship we have as enough? I just don’t want to get serious with anyone at this time in my life. Every time you’re at sea, you call upset about the same thing. You’re trying to force our relationship to a level that I have been, and continue to be, adamantly against. What we have is a fantastic friendship, and that’s where our relationship needs to stay, as far as I’m concerned.

Okay. I guess you’re right, for now anyway. Are we still friends?

Yes, of course, we’re still good friends. Nothing has changed.

With a sigh of frustration, he said his goodbyes and disconnected the call.

Chapter 3

Atlantis in the Pacific - How odd is that? Makes one wonder. A slap to Ramos’ shoulder interrupted his thoughts. Startled, he looked up. Jon!

You can’t ask for a better day, old buddy. Surf about two feet. Not a cloud in the sky.

The company they worked for, Empire State Undersea Cable Repair (ESUCR), was based in New York City. For two years, Ramos Babbitt and Jon Healy had worked the Atlantic Ocean on a variety of deep water assignments before being temporarily transferred to a high priority job on board the Atlantis in the Pacific Ocean. It was an inconvenience, but the extra money was good, and it allowed Ramos to seek out leads for his two primary goals in life, status and wealth, while Jon enjoyed the parties and culture the West Coast offered.

Captain Nemo said we’re the first up to dive on the site.

Jon looked down at the ship’s deck, and then at Ramos. You know, the captain hates it when you call him Nemo. If it were the old days, he’d have you walk the plank. You have to stop busting balls.

Flashing an unnatural smile, Ramos indicated that he really didn’t give a shit. A big burly man standing over six foot tall, he had grown up the hard way. His overbearing personality and fighting went hand-in-hand. He rarely lost a fight, and, rarer still, ever said he was wrong. This was a man who limited his contact with people, while channeling his energy into personal pursuits.

The complete opposite, Jon liked to party with the crew and was a great card player. A slight man standing all of five feet six inches, he was meek when compared to Ramos, and, unlike him, everyone liked Jon. Not only was he a fun guy to be around, but he was also the only one of the crew who could keep Ramos in check. They were the proverbial odd couple.

Hopefully, between the four dive teams, we can get this job done in one day and start heading back to the States.

Jon deliberately didn’t answer. Being impetuous, Ramos restated the question more forcefully. Do you think we can finish this damn job today so we can get the hell out of here?

Gazing out into the vast expanse of the ocean while slowly shaking his head, Jon replied, Why are you in such a hurry? It’s Andrea, isn’t it?

Walking toward the ship’s railing, Ramos turned around and sat down next to Jon. He cupped his head in his hands and stared at the deck, as if waiting for an answer to his quandary to magically appear. Jon waited in awkward silence until Ramos lifted his head. Is it that obvious?

Yes. And you’ve only got yourself to blame. We have been through this a thousand times. Andrea is not going to melt before you like those other brainless airheads you’ve dated in the past.

Ramos chuckled at the directness of his comment. So you think because she has a degree in Bio something or other, she’s too smart for me?

For a person that barely got through high school and can’t even remember the degree she holds, which, in case you forgot, just happens to be a Ph.D. in the field of biomedical engineering, yes. Jon turned and lightly jabbed his right index finger into Ramos’s arm. And that’s not too shabby, my friend.

Ramos took a deep breath, Yeah, but she’s just like any other woman, and when I become rich and famous, she’ll see the error of her ways. He turned and jabbed Jon in a similar way to gain his attention. Plus, she’ll be static to share my bed with me.

Laughing, Jon replied, Man, you just don’t get it. And the word is ecstatic, not static, meathead. I rest my case. Jon was annoyed with the way Ramos categorized women, especially Andrea. There was a beautiful, refreshing innocence about her, and this guy was too thick headed to see it. Another thing, your damn quest for fame and fortune is a turn-off, and, no matter what you think, you’re not going to change her mind. Even if you do achieve your quest, it will never fulfill her needs. It’s time for you to accept her as the good friend she is or move on. Jon stood up and faced Ramos. I love you like a brother, but it will do neither of us any good to keep rehashing this, especially before a dive. It’s too distracting.

Breaking eye contact with Jon, Ramos nodded ever so slightly. You’re right about the dive, but not about Andrea. She’s no different than any other woman. I will win."

The PA system sprang to life, All dive teams to meet in the captain’s conference room in five minutes.

Shit, Captain Nemo wants us.

Thank you, God. Jon took the lead as they headed to the meeting.

The conflicting sounds of multiple conversations filled the conference room as they waited for Captain Richardson to begin. An avid power lifter standing five feet eight inches tall and weighing 215 pounds, the captain was the strongest man on the ship, capable of bench pressing over 400 pounds. When he raised his right hand, it was a motion for them to be silent.

Good news, men. This is the last of our scheduled stops. As expected, there was a positive reaction from the men. There is nothing unusual about the actual repair we are undertaking today. I expect it to go normally and to be completed by evening. Two dive teams are scheduled. The depth is 1,000 feet and the work is on a high security communications line. Captain Richardson cleared his throat, and appeared to be having trouble finding the right words to continue. This unusual behavior put many of the divers on edge. I feel it is important to explain where this site has us positioned. Before continuing, the captain took a sip of water, unintentionally heightening the tension. Our location is 25 degrees north latitude, 142 degrees east longitude. The closest landmass is the southeast coast of Japan. We are, gentleman, in the Dragon’s Triangle! There was a perplexed look on most of the divers’ faces, forcing Captain Richardson to explain in more detail. Halfway around the world, its twin sister, the Bermuda Triangle, is located on the same latitude line of 25 degrees north. Both triangles contain much of the world’s deepest waters, mostly unexplored.

"It’s 0900 hours, and somewhere deep beneath the Atlantis, a monster lurks. The fate of the crew rests on one man. But he can’t help, for he has stepped into the Twilight Zone." The remark from Ramos got everyone laughing, except the captain.

As I was saying, Ramos, strange anomalies occur here with frequency. This triangle covers a half million square mile area and has been the world’s leading hot spot for Unidentified Flying Object and Underwater Submersible Object sightings. Captain Richardson emphasized, "It is a place which should not be taken lightly. There have been more military ships and submarines lost here than any other place on Earth, and I don’t want Atlantis to become another statistic. This is an area of the world that demands caution and respect. Ramos and Jon, you’re the first team up. Stay alert."

Chapter 4

The light projecting from the remotely operated underwater vehicle (ROV) enabled the onboard camera to transmit pictures back to the ship’s control room as they watched Jon and Ramos complete their assigned task. Light or no light, this environment was the most dangerous and inhospitable place on Earth.

To insure their survival in this harsh environment, Ramos and Jon had donned Newt Suits, self-contained units that allowed them to work safely at extreme depths. Patterned after an astronaut’s spacesuit, the Newt Suit had a similar body design. The two major differences were its claws and a clear bubble top. These suits enabled the divers to breathe air at atmospheric pressure, doing away with the need for decompressing when returning to the surface and eliminating the danger of contracting the bends. State of the art communication gear and thrusters allowed them to move from one undersea location to another while keeping in touch.

While Ramos held the cable in a fixed position for Jon to repair, his mind began to wander. The Dragon’s shit hole. Maybe there is something to it – for me, that is. Be nice to find an old sunken vessel loaded with valuable artifacts – that would bring Andrea around. Smart move, my doing research at the New York City Library. My friend Joan knows her stuff, being the head honcho there. And she introduced me to Andrea. Both great sources of information.

Are you paying attention? I asked you twice to raise the cable.

Oh, yeah, bro, I’m just trying to be extra careful. Like the good captain requested.

Bullshit. Just stay with me; I’m almost done.

Since both divers were tethered by a security cable to the ship for safety and communication reasons, every word they said could be heard over the ship’s monitor.

"This is Atlantis; everything okay down there?"

It was the communications officer, Craig, monitoring them and becoming concerned that they were losing the necessary concentration to complete their assigned task. Captain Richardson wants you to stay focused.

Advice well taken, responded Jon. And while you’re on the horn, tell the remote operator to rotate R2D2 so the light is coming from the back of my right shoulder instead of my left side. If possible, put some more light on the cable.

The ROV operator quickly made the adjustments, How’s that, Jon?

Looking good. We should be… Oh shit! Ramos! Ramos! Behind you!

Ramos looked up at Jon and saw him pointing to something that was lurking behind him, and, from his tone and facial gestures, he knew he was dead serious. Feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck, he started turning to where Jon was so vehemently pointing. Shit! What’s behind me? In his mind he envisioned his worst nightmare, a giant squid that could swallow him whole or rupture his suit. His heart skipped several beats and then began to race as he could see Jon, off to his side, fighting to lie down on the ocean floor while wildly attempting to grab onto anything that was stationary. With adrenaline fully released into his system, Ramos completed the one-eighty degree turn, his eyes bulging to see what was encroaching. He could barely hear Jon in the background trying to give a warning of the impending danger because the communications officer on board ship was trying to cut in, adding to the confusion. Quickly, Ramos scanned the ocean while instinctively dropping to the sea floor. Thank God there’s no animal of any sort. His vision tunneled as he squinted, trying to see the danger that was rapidly approaching.

Oh, God! he screamed, realizing that something far more powerful than any ocean creature was about to strike. Terror ran through him as a wall of dark murky sand, looking like the doorway to the Gates of Hell, advanced towards him. Ramos had witnessed underwater currents before, but this one looked like an underwater tsunami. He groped for something to hang on to, but before he could latch firmly onto anything, he was hit with the full furry of the underwater surge. The force knocked the wind from his lungs as he was tossed around, tumbling backward and flipping over several times. His body was being hammered and bruised as he was slammed around the inside of the Newt Suit. He cursed and prayed at the same time, God, please keep this damn suit together! Being crushed by tons of pressure per square inch crossed his mind. He tried to curl into a fetal position but could not. Ramos was totally at the mercy of the sea. Shit, he yelled as he was thrown into a rock outcropping.

The smallest hole, crack, or leak in his suit would spell instant death. He could faintly hear chatter in the background and briefly wondered how Jon was making out when suddenly he was hurled down into a sea floor depression.

What the hell! he screamed. Don’t slacken the cable, guys! Get me out of here!

Unfortunately, only crackles and muted sounds were detected by the communications officer. The men manning and monitoring the cables attached to the divers had no idea of what was happening below. To them, it was business as usual and they allowed the cables to freely extend, thinking more slack was required to permit the divers freedom of movement.

Everything was happening quickly, but to Ramos, it was beginning to move in slow motion. While in this state, he started to think more positively. If things don’t get any worse, he might ride this wild undersea storm out. Unfortunately, that thought was short lived. As the frontal portion of this undersea wave passed, the less violent tail portion started dumping sand on him – lots of it.

Ah shit, I’m going to be buried alive, shouted Ramos as he frantically tried to maneuver the Newt Suit using the thrusters in an attempt to get away from the danger. Simultaneously, he worked feverishly with the claws trying to keep from being buried under tons of sand. Although the claws were useless in this situation, he had no option but to work them until he was totally exhausted, leaving himself trapped in sand up to his chest. There was no physical way he could keep ahead of the onslaught of sand, and for an instant, he thought of ripping off the headgear instead of waiting for the elements to determine how and when he would die.

Then, as suddenly as the undersea storm appeared, it disappeared. Breathing heavily, Ramos now had another problem to contend with. He was so out of breath that the regulator controlling the amount of breathable air into his helmet was not capable of allowing enough of the mixture into his lungs. It was comparable to running a mile and then trying to breathe through a straw. He fought to control his breathing – taking only what the suit would give while mentally calming himself down.

To him, it seemed liked hours passed as he labored to gain control of his body. Gradually, he began to make progress, staying perfectly still while he surveyed the situation. He checked the amount of air left in the tanks. The gauges displayed a pressure indicating that his tanks were forty percent full. Should he believe them? If the gauges were accurate, he had minimal bottom time left and would have to start his ascent soon to stay within the safety limits of the dive plan – running out of air while surfacing was not an acceptable alternative. Scanning the area, Ramos noticed that the visibility was lousy, but improving. For the first time, he looked down at himself. I look like the Statue of Liberty in the ending scene in the movie, Planet of the Apes, buried with sand up to my chest. Gradually, he worked the arms of the Newt Suit free. A few minutes elapsed before Ramos realized he was not only stuck, but could hear no one. Concerned for his partner, he shouted, Jon, Jon, where are you? When Jon didn’t answer, he called frantically to Craig, the communications officer on board ship. Nothing but total silence. Panic set in. What if the wave struck the ship? No, we’re far enough at sea that any seismic wave would be nothing more than a ripple. What about a rogue wave? Continued thoughts of catastrophe ran rampant through his mind. I have to control my fears. Just calm down. As he regained control of his emotions, he realized that the sand that engulfed him was loosely packed. With renewed strength and hope, he slowly freed himself from his potential grave. Carefully, he checked out his equipment, and from what he could determine, everything was working. Everything except for the damn communications system.

Shit! yelled Ramos as he felt a push on his right side. He turned the best he could, expecting to see something out of a horror movie. To his relief, it was Jon. You scared the hell out of me.

Jon made a motion indicating that he could not hear anything Ramos was saying. Cautiously using one of the claws, Jon reconnected the loose transmitter wire back into the side of Ramos’ suit.

Ramos heard a loud click. Can you hear me now, Jon?

Who the hell do you think you are, a Verizon spokesperson? Jon replied in an attempt at humor.

Thank God you’re okay. I was certain you were a dead man.

Me? I was worried about you, Ramos. I’m telling you, bro, that’s one ride I don’t ever want to repeat.

Craig was finally able to make contact, What’s going on down there? We lost contact after Jon was screaming for Ramos to watch out. What happened?

We were hit with one of those underwater disturbances that flung Ramos around like a ping pong ball and then buried him up to his waist in sand.

Craig immediately connected the bridge so that Captain Richardson could listen in on their conversation, and in doing so, accidentally turned on all the ship’s speakers. The excitement of the drama unfolding below motivated several of the crew members to join Craig in the communication room, while others were content to listen from their bunks, the cafeteria, or their posts.

Is he okay?

Hold on. Jon finished checking Ramos before giving a decisive answer. He appears to be in one piece and ugly as ever.

How about you? Are you okay?

As far as I can tell, everything seems to be working.

Okay. I verify you both survived and to the best of your knowledge the suits are intact. Video has stopped so I take it the ROV is missing in action.

That is correct on both counts, responded Ramos. Besides, if the suits failed, we wouldn’t be talking to you now, would we?

His comment got a chuckle out of Jon who gave him the thumbs up using his right claw. Craig failed to see the humor. The possibility of losing a man was not a laughing matter.

Is it possible for you to check out the area of the repair to see if it is buried or still visible? Then start your ascent. We’re sending divers down to the 150 foot mark to meet you just in case you need additional air.

Checking his instruments, Jon replied, I estimate we could be about fifty yards from where we were before all hell broke out. As advised, we’re moving to the area where the repairs were made before starting our ascent. Tell the cable operators to take up the slack, very slowly.

Craig responded in short bursts, Okay. Just be careful. You can’t afford another mishap. Tell us when you’re starting your ascent so we can calculate surface arrival and allow the divers to start their descent to the 150 foot mark.

Ramos let out a sigh, I don’t know about you, Jon, but I definitely used up one of my lives today.

Hang in there. I’m going to attach a buddy line for additional safety. I don’t want you wandering off again.

While Jon made the connections, Ramos checked out the area. Weird. It looks like a giant hand swept through here. Some areas are totally changed while others seemed untouched.

There was a hesitation before Jon answered, We’re fortunate that those boulders to your right didn’t take one of us out.

With the aid of their thrusters, they quickly covered the distance to the repair area. Jon reported in, By some miracle the cable is still visible and intact. I’m going to follow the cable for a short distance to make sure nothing else has been damaged. Carefully, they maneuvered along the cable, continually assessing the integrity of the line.

Still feeling the effects of his adrenalin rush, Ramos continued intensely scanning the area when he suddenly caught the reflection of a shiny object off in the direction in which they were traveling. He blinked several times to clear his vision and squinted to focus his eyes in the general direction – nothing. Whatever it was, it had eluded him. He looked at Jon, trying once more to refocus. As his vision cleared, he turned his head in an attempt to see if anything was really there. Once again he briefly caught a reflection. Can’t be; there are no reflections at this depth. Ramos blurted out, Did you see a flash over there to your left?

Jon looked in the direction he was pointing. I don’t see a thing, and I hope not to. All I want to do is get out of here before the myths and legends of this damn area come true. If anything, it’s the ROV.

The probability that the ROV was buried in sand and couldn’t break free was a fair assumption, and Jon was absolutely correct in wanting to continue to the surface unabated. Besides, they both had had enough excitement to last a lifetime. As they approached the original repair site, Jon took note of its condition. I see no additional damage to the cable, so, screw the ROV and let’s start heading for the surface.

Ramos started to concur. You’re right Jon, but really…. there, over there. Off to your left side. You see it? It’s the lights from the ROV reflecting off something.

Jon strained to see what it was Ramos was pointing to. He was about to give up when he saw a reflection. I caught a glimpse of something. It’s hard to see, but it appears to be shiny – probably just an illusion.

Come on Jon. Let’s take a closer look.

Craig cut in on their conversation, Hold on, guys. Captain Richardson has unconditionally stated that he wants you to start your ascent immediately. You have been down long enough, and besides, we don’t need you chasing mermaids.

We’re not suffering from nitrogen narcosis. That’s impossible with a Newt Suit. It’s just that Ramos saw something and it might warrant a look.

The response was immediate. Nothing doing! Your boss says to head for the surface – Now!

Motioning to Ramos, Jon indicated for him not to say another word. Okay, Craig. You and the captain win. No chasing mermaids. We’re on our way up.

Instead, together, they started moving towards the ROV. Reaching the ROV, Ramos stared intently at the object which appeared to be a large pipe stuck in the sand. Neither said a word, and instead used signs and gestures to communicate with each other. From Jon’s motions, Ramos could tell that he thought it was nothing more than a pipe or some article that had probably been dropped by a passing ship. The more Ramos studied it though, the more he thought it was attached to something buried beneath the ocean floor. Jutting about five feet out of ground, it had no rust, and the top was shaped like the head of a cobra that was fanned out and ready to strike. Is it possible I stumbled onto something of value? A beam of red light, as if directed, flashed across his face plate. Holy shit. What was that? His heart was pounding and for a second he felt faint. Have to get a hold of myself. Have to maintain control of my senses. What is this? He looked over at Jon who was busy trying to free the ROV and totally unaware of what just happened. That’s a break. The cables are completely snapped off the ROV. That means no information of any sort is getting to the ship. Ramos caught movement and forced himself not to instinctively yell out a few profanities. The pipe, or whatever it was, pivoted backward until it lay on the sandy ocean floor. Sliding his hand under the pipe to try and lift it, he hit something solid. He tried to visualize what the metal claw was touching. Moving the claw to the foot of the pipe, he realized that it was attached to a much bigger object, and it seemed to have a slope to it. Gradually, Ramos expanded his field of vision, surveying the area immediately around the object. Holy shit! There was something, and it was big. Realizing that there was a curve to what he was touching, he began to sense this hump in the sand as something entirely different. What the hell is this? He had no idea what it was, but he was hoping it was a ship. Old or new didn’t matter. Either way it was money. He returned his attention to Jon who had finally managed to free the ROV from its watery grave. Flipping the override switch on the machine, Jon activated the emergency autopilot feature that would guide the ROV safely back to the preset coordinates programmed in before it was launched from Atlantis. Feeling a little like a hero for saving one of Craig’s favorite robots, he moved closer to Ramos and was mystified when he saw the object lying on the ocean floor. He looked at Ramos, who took the opportunity to convey a message that the object was nothing worth further investigation.

Ramos’ greedy side overrode any sense of honesty or danger, and instead, he concentrated on what he had always wanted, fame and fortune. He had a sense that this find could be a potential money maker, his road to happiness, and maybe even a more serious commitment from Andrea. Everything he wanted. Ah, shit. The damn coordinates of the original repair are logged onboard Atlantis. It’s too close to the work site. Ramos estimated the distance to where he now was at approximately one hundred yards north of the original repair site. If I want to keep this secret, I’m going to have to be really careful about how I play this out. Damn, this just might work. ROV freed and onboard for repairs means no one will be the wiser. It’s all mine. Slowly, Ramos moved away from his find and motioned indicating they should start their ascent. Surprise at Ramos’ sudden loss of interest somehow peaked Jon’s. Fearing Jon was going to change his mind, Ramos touched Jon’s robotic arm, shook his head violently, while expressing with the suit’s arms that whatever it was, it was worthless. When that didn’t work, Ramos moved his arms towards his chest and rotated the claw sideways indicating that he was not feeling well. Jon bought into his lie and quickly agreed that whatever this was, it was not worth endangering Ramos. Together, they started for the surface.

Craig was watching the monitors and becoming impatient, Where are you guys?

Hold on to your horses. We’re on our way up.

Craig put his head in his hands and started massaging his temples. The strain of having two divers encounter a near-death experience was getting to him, and they still had a long way go. He wouldn’t feel relief until they were safely on board. He breathed deep in an effort to control his voice, For a second there, I thought the two of you were chasing mermaids. Did you wander off to find buried treasure?

Jon looked at Ramos and cracked a faint smile.

No, Craig. Whatever it was, we didn’t see it again. As you alluded to, we’re probably the first divers to get rapture of the deep in a Newt Suit.

Craig didn’t need to look around the room to know that most of the crew were jammed in behind him, worried about the fate of their shipmates. We have a lot of people up here listening and wondering what’s going on down there. You get knocked on you butts with an undersea storm and then say you are seeing strange glowing objects. Everyone here is telling me to relay a simple message: get your asses up here ASAP.

The ascent was slow and arduous. Exhaustion began to sweep over them, and they were grateful to meet the divers at the 150 foot mark. When they surfaced and safely boarded, Captain Richardson sent them to Doctor Stephen Savitt in sickbay for a complete medical workup.

Chapter 5

Cambodia, 1969

The aftermath of the explosion that crippled Gunny compromised the team’s secrecy.

Doc! You have to do it. I’m a dead man and you know it. Please! pleaded Gunnery Sergeant Johnson, I would do it for you.

A young Stephen Savitt was a member of a Special Operations Team affiliated with the CIA and served as the Special Operations Medical Sergeant. At five foot seven and a lean 165 pounds, he was the smallest member of the team.

Stephen looked up at the agent they called Joe who was in charge of the operation. They were deep in Cambodian territory on a special mission when Gunny stepped on a Viet Cong mine designed to detonate at waist height. The explosive did what it was supposed to do, rip a man apart leaving his entrails splattered and hanging from his abdomen. The pain was excruciating and death was imminent. The lucky ones died quickly. The unlucky ones could linger for hours. Gunny was an unlucky one, and there was no way to airlift him out without jeopardizing the entire mission. If left alive, the VC would torture him in an attempt to extract information, a risk they could not take.

Joe nodded to Stephen and walked several feet away while checking to see if any hostiles were in the area. Stephen looked into Gunny’s eyes. He was not surprised to see the look of a hardened warrior, not unlike the legendary Samurai that had ruled Japan for hundreds of years.

OD me on morphine, Doc. Let me go down the fabled Silk Road and meet my Maker in good spirits.

You’re a hell of a soldier, Gunny.

The doc always carried enough special syringes for each member of the team, himself included.

Expertly he inserted the needle into one of Gunny’s veins and released its deadly contents. Immediately, Gunny’s eyes started to glass over and by the time Doc pulled the syringe out of his arm, he was gone.

Tag him, and let’s get the hell out of here. We have a mission to finish. And it won’t be long before this place will be crawling with Gooks.

Stephen quickly pulled out a small cigarette sized black box from his bag, pulled up the antenna, and pushed the toggle switch from the off position to the send position. Carefully, he placed the transmitter close to Gunny’s side. While Doc was attending to Gunny, Joe had contacted Forward Air Control (FAC) and made the pilot of the small single engine plane aware of what had happened.

Let’s go, Doc. We haven’t much time before they get a lock on Gunny’s position and light up the whole area.

Grabbing his rifle, he quickly caught up with Joe. Neither said a word as the team formed a single line, leapfrog formation. For fifteen minutes the team forged ahead carefully looking for evidence of VC strongholds, when suddenly an explosion could be heard off in the distance.

Joe looked at Doc. That’s a 500 pounder. I hope Gunny took a few of the bastards with him.

Stephen nodded in agreement, The Men in Black leave nothing to chance.

The guys dressed in black that Doc was referring to pertained to an elite group of fighting men which the government denied existed. The planes they flew were unmarked and their flight gear was flat black in color. One item distinguished them – a unique patch bearing the letters NOYFB. They were the most highly trained pilots in the world whose missions were never documented.

When the war ended, Stephen took a civilian job as an emergency medical technician at a small VA hospital located about 65 miles north of New York City while finishing his education to become a board certified medical doctor. Once again, his reputation as a highly skilled physician drew the attention of the CIA. When they presented him the opportunity to serve on a small ship working with a group of elite deep sea divers, Stephen accepted. He was to serve as Chief Medical Officer on the ship Atlantis and gather information. In particular, the CIA was interested in identifying crew members suspected of dealing in the selling of weapons for drugs.

Chapter 6

Sick Bay, Present Day

The doc’s physical examination of both men was comprehensive. Ramos was checked first, and, as usual, was not talkative about what he had experienced. After his exam was complete, the doctor released him and started checking Jon.

Other than a few bumps and bruises, you and Ramos appear to be in perfect condition.

As the doctor continued with Jon’s checkup, there appeared to be a forced silence, as if Stephen wanted to say something, but didn’t know how to broach the subject. When the exam was completed, he started to complete the written medical report. The timing was now appropriate for Stephen to ask some questions.

While I have you here, Jon, I’m curious about some gossip I overheard from Craig and a couple of the crew members. They were talking about what Ramos saw – maybe a ship, or something big? Too bad you didn’t get a chance to check it out. It might have been something worth looking into.

Jon