survival of the fittest by cray crawford

7/27/2019 Survival Of The Fittest by Cray Crawford

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About the Author

I began writing in 2008 after seventeen years as a secondary

school teacher.

My second novel – Cyber (unpublished) – is a

psychological thriller, based around internet dating and chat

rooms. The story follows the plight of a teenage lad who

becomes embroiled into the seedier side of the internet and

how this impacts on his life and those around him. It isapproximately 48,000 words and fully complete.

My third novel – Teacher ’s Pet (unpublished) – is a crime

thriller based around an ex-teacher who, after a stint in prison,

attempts to put all of the criminal intelligence that he gained

inside into good practice when he is released, by avenging

miscarriages of justice. It is approximately 54,000 words and

fully complete.

My fourth novel – Chapter and Verse (unpublished) – is a

revenge thriller, following a daughter who avenges her father’s

mysterious death in a plane crash by tracking down and

seeking revenge on those responsible. The novel is

approximately 52,000 words and fully complete.

In addition to writing novels, I have also written some

prose poetry and I currently have about fifteen poems already

written.I have also written the proposals for a game show – called

Box Clever – a concept that is based around the card game

cribbage. The game fuses the conventions of cribbage with a

fresh technological and educational influence. These proposals

are also complete.



Dedication

To my friends and family, who have stood by me and

supported me through the past few years. Special thanks to

Dad and KD. A huge thanks also to Pete, Pam and Don who

helped me get back on my feet, and to Nev and all the lads at

D.A.R (Malvern) who keep me laughing (often at my own

expense).To Sue for her ‘cash back’ treats and help with my princess, and to Kate and Jon for helping me out when help

was truly needed; If Carlsberg made ex-wives...

To Josh and Bex – the best kids a parent could ever wish for;

thank you for your eternal optimism and for making me think

it would all be worthwhile. You make me so very proud x x x



Crawford Cray

S U R V I V L

O F

T H E

F I T T E S T



Copyright © Crawford Cray

The right of Crawford Cray to be identified as author of this work

has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of

the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any

form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the

publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims

for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British

Library.

ISBN 978 184963 970 5

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2014)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.

25 Canada Square

Canary WharfLondon

E14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain



Prologue

The year is 2025. The earth is dying and the human population

is facing ultimate extinction. A major factor contributing to

mankind’s predicament has been a sharp reduction in male

fertility – whilst the death rate steadily increases, the birth rate

remains significantly low. The diminishing hole in the ozone

layer is thought to be a major contributory factor to an

exponential rise in incurable diseases. Even new advances inmedical technologies cannot offset an inevitable plummet

within the world’s population. Even more dramatic are future

predictions that suggest that within four to five generations, the

species Homo Sapiens will become extinct as the earth can no

longer sustain its livelihood.

Ozone depletion over much of the Northern hemisphere

wreaks havoc on the ignorant and the vain; dangerously high

levels of ultraviolet radiation mercilessly penetrate the earth’s

dwindling atmospheric protection. As a direct result, one in

five of the population have been diagnosed with malignant

skin cancer and one in eight is suffering the effects of cataracts

and other optical disorders; one in three is subjected to the long

term traumas of infertility. The diminishing health of modern

society has generated a massive strain within the health

service, as the need for evasive surgery reaches pandemic proportions, exhausting the budgets of all major health

providers as well as government surplus’. Taxes within all EU

countries rise significantly in retrospect, causing the financial

collapse of many families and businesses alike. The populous

remonstrate with a vengeance, resulting in the implementation

of a curfew in many regions of the world. Civil unrest

unleashes its deadliest game plan and many establishments

crumble under the surge.Severe over industrialisation during the eighteenth and

nineteenth centuries within the developing countries, and a

huge movement of some third world nations towards



industrialisation in the beginning of the twenty first century

has dramatically influenced climatic change. The tabloid hype

of the twentieth century proved to be more than just a product

of the commercial rumour mill for selling newspapers. Global

increases in temperature have thrown both land and marine

ecosystems into turmoil; migratory boundaries have been

extended, and breeding grounds have diminished as the once

great lakes and rivers become steadily parched. Many species

have been unable to survive the rapid changes and

unprecedented climatic variation. Indeed, one third of all

known species of animal are now classed as endangered or

extinct – suffering similar traumatic effects as their humancounterparts. However, a few species have been able to adapt

rapidly to their changing environments, resulting in the

creation of many new and as yet, unrecorded species.

The once vast ice shelves of the Polar Regions and the

majestic glaciers of the mountainous domains have atrophied

to become skeletal replicas of their former grandeur. Many

analysts suggest that a global rise in sea levels is inevitable,

submerging coastal regions around the world and changing thegeography of the planet forever. In a major response to this, a

massive world flood defence programme – instigated by the

UN – has been in operation, although many experts see it as

too little, too late.

The further ramifications of climatic change have been

reflected in the tourism trade, which has collapsed dramatically

as beaches lie deserted, hotels lay derelict and theme parks areabandoned. The frequency of severe weather phenomena has

seen increasingly more dramatic events, forcing many

insurance brokers towards insolvency as the cost for such

devastation surpasses the trillion dollar milestone. Outdoor

pursuits have become a minority pastime, as large enclosed

leisure complexes enable recreation in relative safety.

Popularity amongst the masses for outdoor sport dwindles, and

the professional sporting calendar around the world is indisarray as sponsors withdraw their support. Most professional

clubs spiral into liquidation through lack of funding and falling

attendance. Sport becomes a pastime often dwelt upon in



passing conversation, but no longer a dominant influence in

everyday life.

The health boom towards the latter end of the twentieth

century – once regarded as a necessity within the global

society – has become obsolete. There has been a massive

increase in the demand for ancillary fitness and leisure

accessories, including virtual reality equipment, as the

populous as a whole curtail their proactive pursuit for a healthy

lifestyle. Over fifty percent of the population are classified as

clinically obese. In a futile attempt to prevent further pressures

on the health system and economy, exercise regimes have been

developed and integrated into the daily routines of the workforce and become mandatory within schools. Sun protection

products have become a necessity for everyday modern life

and the integration of sun care programmes into the school

curriculum provides an ideal vehicle for educating those

individuals with whom the earth’s existence solely rests.

The world’s governments have decreed that an immediate

investigation into the extinction of our species is of paramount

importance if we are to have any future. Codenamed THE DARWIN PROJECT , they have gathered many specialists from

around the world to try and address the uncertainty facing

mankind. Lead by Marine Biologist David Harvey, the

international superpowers work together, striving to find a

solution to this most serious and pressing dilemma. Time is not

on their side...



Chapter One

Quebec City, Canada

Dr David Harvey exhaled noisily as he plunged himself into

the large green leather armchair in his hotel room; comfortable

and relaxed he found himself idly watching the world through

his hotel room window, content in the knowledge that he could

watch the madness below him, but easily distance himselffrom it – even if only for the briefest of moments. He smiled

gently to himself as an unpredicted downpour dispersed the

pandemonium in the streets of the Place d’Armes. It reminded

him of his childhood; a baking hot day in his parents’ garden,

as he unmercifully disturbed a colony of ants with the

powerful jet of water from his father ’s hosepipe. Similar to the

outcome of the ants, the momentary and inconvenientdisruption of the rain elapsed, subsiding into a much gentler

shower, allowing the streets below to quickly revert back to the

bustling hive of regularity and order. He watched as the odd

drop of rain exploded onto the window, causing the outside

world to become a twisted, distorted vision of reality. Pleased

that he had avoided the downpour, he turned his attention away

from the streets, and sat further into his chair, raising his feet

onto a stool close by. He kicked off his slippers and rubbed hisweathered feet together, gaining immediate sensory pleasure.

Slowly, he sipped a charitable portion of Jack Daniels which

had been unexpectedly yet gratifyingly discovered within the

mini-bar. His body felt fully recharged and immune to the

city’s exhaustive influences. Harvey looked around the large

executive room, his eyes coming to rest on the king-sized bed;

he let his thoughts drift as he longed for someone to share it

with. His dressing gown felt warm against his moist skin,

providing a welcomed feeling of fulfilment. This was his

reality and he wanted to absorb it for a while longer, although

an irritating doubt plagued his conscience.



Only two days earlier he had been enjoying a relaxing

busman’s holiday on the coral reefs off Belize, analysing the

effects of atmospheric pollution on the areas coral densities.

He had been staying in what he considered to be mediocre

accommodation and was under constant attack from

mosquitoes and the incessant heat. Nevertheless he was happy;

that was what he enjoyed doing and besides he was getting

paid for it as well. However, he presently found himself in an

enormously extravagant air conditioned room at the Chateau

Frontenac – in the desirable part of Quebec known as the Old

City – although the lack of both biting insects and incessant

itching from heat rash, seemed to quash his negativity slightly.Harvey though was still finding it difficult to come to terms

with the consequence of his meeting earlier that day.

He had been summoned to the office of Anthony Morkill

at the British Consulate. Morkill – being some distant relative

of the monarchy and a once high ranking naval officer – was

responsible for the implementation of phase one of The

Darwin Project . This in itself was becoming the largest

collaborative ecological investigation in modern times, evensurpassing the events of the Chernobyl disaster and its

devastating aftermath, and the catastrophic events following

the Tsunamis in Indonesia, Sri Lanka and Japan.

It was only during his meeting with Morkill that Harvey

had learnt of his nomination to co-ordinate the initial phase of

The Darwin Project . But such a response had evoked fear into

Harvey. The magnitude of such a task momentarily caused himto scrutinise even his own merits and worth since he knew that

his background was far from exemplary. He enjoyed good

food, relished alcohol, and worshipped women – all three were

valued highly in his hierarchy of needs, although the order in

which he ranked them changed on a daily basis. He had no

particular political preferences or religious beliefs and his

methods of research were considered to be highly unorthodox

by those in similar circles. Indeed, many had scrutinised hiswork and ridiculed his findings, albeit rarely submitting other

suggestions or hypothesis in their place. His only real merits

were his affluent parents and of course his extensive and



highly accredited knowledge of ecosystems and their demise.

The former of his assets proved to be a sore point for Harvey,

as he had readily distanced himself from his upper class,

conservative parents as a young adult. During his university

years he had meandered in and out of the deep roots of

socialism, eventually realising that even this was a futile

attempt to gain a popular vote within his circle of peers at the

time. Unfortunately, like other radical ideas, they soon

subsided although the distance between himself and his parents

remained.

His parents boasted principal positions within a

multinational pharmaceutical drugs company, and theirmonumental yearly bonuses had paid for Harvey’s private

education as a child; a particularly unpleasant time in his life

as he never seemed to be able to fully appreciate the lavish

environment he had been provided with. The fact that his

parents were never at home, and that he had sought surrogate

love within the arms of a long list of nannies (which Harvey

later found to be the cause of his father ’s incessant infidelity)

ensured that there was very little bond between himself and his parents. This lack of attachment had been accentuated later in

his life not only by his brief political direction, but also

through discovering a few ‘home truths’ about his parents’

involvement in his own academic direction. It seemed that his

scholarship at The UCLA – concerning research into the reef

ecology around Hawaii – was not simply a product of his own

success, but reflected an ulterior motive involving his ownfather. Indeed, with a little investigation into the archives,

Harvey had found that his father had been headhunted to help

develop a new chemical research wing at the university,

coincidently at the same time that Harvey had been given the

scholarship. Harvey was no fool, and knew that his father had

undoubtedly exploited the university for his own personal gain,

and this would have included Harvey’s scholarship within the

undoubtedly spectacular package.As far as Harvey was concerned, the personal

embarrassment caused to him by this episode was the final

straw. His father ’s interests and achievements within the



university even began to take precedence over Harvey’s

successes, and he found it increasingly difficult to find any

kind of attachment to his father. Thankfully, Harvey’s own

research took him into regions that would isolate him further

from his own family, and allow him to find himself and

become a success under his own efforts.

During the ‘eco-friendly’ period of the late twentieth

century, Harvey expanded his studies to incorporate the threat

and impact that the human population and the subsequent

pollution were having on the ecology of the world’s coral

reefs. Due to the high profile his studies achieved, his work

began to attract a high degree of media coverage andsponsorship, as the ever vigilant giants of industry saw it as an

avenue for portraying a caring, eco-friendly corporate image.

Harvey had numerous conglomerates willing to throw money

at him left, right and centre so long as it was their name that

was attached to his research, and they were acknowledged

several times before any conclusions were drawn. However, as

the reign of the eco-warrior faltered towards the new

millennium, the need for such industrial propaganda becameless essential, and thus links became weakened. Eventually

support for such elaborate programmes was severed entirely,

and funding became an ever-increasing struggle, supplemented

only by the odd sweetener from ageing philanthropists.

Harvey took another gulp of whisky – inverting the glass

to secure the very last drop on his curled tongue. While he did

so, he deliberated on the conversation between himself andMorkill earlier that day and he reached once again for the

bottle.

British Consulate Building, Quebec City – Earlier that day

Morkill leant arrogantly back in his chair, slowly placing bothhands together behind his balding head, accentuating his over

indulged stomach. Harvey was singularly unimpressed with

the large sweat patches that occupied Morkill’s armpits, the



whole effect being amplified by the beige shirt he was

wearing.

“You see, Doctor Harvey, your research has taken you all

over the world, researching some of the most delicately

balanced ecosystems on our planet. Yet your findings

culminate in one fundamental conclusion...that pollution is

directly influencing the world’s reefs, causing deterioration at

an alarming rate.” He looked at a manuscript in front of him

and read directly from the print, impressed with the sound of

his own voice. “The reefs are becoming barren replicas of their

former existence, and the ramifications of this degradation

manifest themselves particularly within coastal areas, where a person’s basic right to food is being challenged.” He then

glanced over to Harvey and continued. “This surely

cannot…and will not be allowed to continue...” He tapped his

forefinger on the manuscript. “Pretty emotive stuff, I’m sure

you’ll agree…”

Morkill was becoming noticeably agitated by the lack of

response from Harvey who was casually scratching the back of

his neck, seemingly unimpressed and obviously not listening.Morkill was appalled that Harvey was not paying such a high

ranking official the respect that he had anticipated – he had

certainly not risked his life in the Falklands conflict to be

shunned by such a charlatan as this. However, it was Harvey

who unexpectedly broke the eerie silence, causing Morkill to

startle, with noticeable embarrassment to himself, but great

amusement to Harvey.“…So Mr Morkill, why exactly are you telling me this? I

did write those papers after all, so I’m quite familiar with what

people like you are doing to our planet. If, and that is a big

IF...if I agreed to co-ordinate this so called initial phase… what

specifically would you want me to do? What role would I have

in this huge system of cogs and pulleys?” replied Harvey.

Morkill leant forward, the light in the office exaggerating

his pointed features. “Well Doctor Harvey….you don’t mindme calling you Doctor do you?” Pretentious prick , thought

Harvey. “…your studies do highlight one anomaly to this

worrying trend. An area located within the Florida Straits on



the south-western tip of the Bermuda Triangle, where your

studies show that the coral is actually growing at a prolific

rate…and for no apparent reason I understand...” replied

Morkill. His tone and body language reflected an obvious

excitement, although Harvey knew that Morkill hadn’t even

read the paperwork or studied the satellite pictures of the area

that he was referring to. He had probably been handed the

documentation only a few minutes earlier prior to Harvey’s

arrival. There was no doubt that Morkill’s advisors would have

actively prompted such a blatant riposte.

“So?” replied Harvey, devoid of all emotion, as his

enthusiasm rapidly began to falter.“So, Doctor Harvey, as I’m the person responsible

for…shall we say…getting the ball rolling, I think that your

anomaly provides an ideal starting point...a key element, if you

like. Now who better to co-ordinate an investigation into the

reef itself than the man who made the discovery in the first

place? Hmm?” Morkill sat back in his chair folding his arms

across his chest, much to Harvey’s relief, as Morkill’s close

proximity un-eased him. As he did so, his left eyebrow raisedsmugly as he looked at Harvey. Morkill knew that he had

taken the upper hand in this conversation – the ball was in his

court now. Bloody politicians, Harvey thought to himself. He

felt overly patronised by Morkill, as if he were a little boy

standing in front of his headmaster. Morkill reached over to his

desk and picked up a loose-leaf folder, skimming through its

contents, though it was obvious he was doing this for effectrather than looking for anything in particular.

“Let’s see Doctor…you’ve worked in both Africa and

Asia, leading large-scale investigations into ecological

changes. In the 1980s you were called to Chernobyl, where

you led a team of botanists and ecologists studying the

mutating effects that the radiation had had on the local flora

and fauna. You had a major influence in the aftermath that

followed the Tsunamis of 2004 and 2011...whenever there’s been a major oil-spill you haven’t been far behind and I

believe it was you who was responsible for finally halting the

Pacific Mangrove clearance operations in 2006. That’s all very



impressive...very impressive indeed.” Morkill sat erect and

leant towards Harvey, his hands clasped together nestling on

the rim of his desk, his lips pursing almost to the extent that

Harvey thought he was going to kiss him, obviously deep in

thought. “But what next for the impressive Doctor David

Harvey?” he asked, looking directly at Harvey. “If you were to

accept this post Doctor, I can give you the assurance of an

unlimited budget. We already have a fully equipped research

vessel suited for the investigation but you would have to be

able to arrange the majority of your own crew, supplies,

equipment etcetera, and so forth...and I would need you to be

ready to go within two weeks. Now I know that it doesn’t giveyou much time for preparation…” Morkill laughed to himself,

although it was obvious to Harvey that Morkill was attempting

to rile him “… but do you think that you are up to the job

Doctor Harvey?”

Harvey began to weigh up his options; he knew that it was

research that really drove him more than almost anything else,

and that an extreme lack of funding over the last few years had

limited his opportunities to only a few small scale projects. Hehad even begun to fit his research around his academic

commitments, rather than the other way round. Not only that,

but the Bermuda investigation had been lying idle for far too

long. He knew it needed further investigation but had neither

the funding nor the manpower to give such a study its dues.

Despite his utter contempt for Morkill, the prospect of an

unlimited budget soon became an overriding and decidingfactor. He deliberately hesitated while he pondered Morkill’s

last question and stared towards Morkill, his mind was made

up. However, a desire to punch Morkill in his fat, unshaven

face began to surface, although Harvey soon established that

this wouldn’t have been the most sensible move of his career

and was able to quash his rebellious thoughts. Harvey had

again become a pawn in someone else’s chess game. Behind

this political facade Harvey knew that there was an ulteriormotive to him being in Quebec. He had been working within

education for far too long and had frequently witnessed the

calculated and Machiavellian nature that infested such political



circles to the core. He knew that he was expendable – no

siblings, no living relatives that he cared to acknowledge, and

very few close friends; there were no links to the past, and

nothing to provide a real hope for the future.

Of course he was up to the job and Morkill knew this very

well. With all of this in mind, he nodded his intention which

brought an unrivalled smile to the face of Morkill, who had

been promised a hefty ‘sweetener ’ should he succeed in

acquiring Harvey’s services. Morkill’s wife would be able to

get the Mercedes convertible she so wanted and Morkill was

on for the ride of his life.



Chapter Two

Quebec City, Canada

The last few days had been extremely hectic; Harvey had spent

the best part of forty-eight hours making arrangements to cover

for his absence back in Belize, which had been a much harder

task than he had anticipated. Bad weather had played its part

too, wreaking havoc with both radio signals and cell phonecoverage. This meant he could only get orders to his land team

on an intermittent basis and the stop-start activity ensured that

Harvey’s patience was tested to the limit. However, this had

been the easy part; next came the task of trying to assemble

colleagues from all over the world to be on his team for the

initial stage of The Darwin Project . Four weeks would have

been a more realistic time scale and even then, he thought, notlong enough.

During this third day, the weather restricted Harvey’s

preparation to what could be done indoors, having spent most

of his time alternating between the telephone, laptop and

various other digital devices. A tropical weather system had

unexpectedly changed course, veering inland and stubbornly

refusing to move on. He eagerly awaited a reply from the two

team members that he hadn’t yet managed to cajole into saying“yes” during the initial contact. One of his team was on

childbirth watch, waiting eagerly for his new baby to be born

in Liverpool, England of all places. Harvey had almost assured

that this team member was ‘in the bag’ with the promise of

wetting the baby’s head whilst partaking in a little sport fishing

off the coast of Florida. Harvey also struck a chord by

reminding the doting father to be, that it wasn’t exactly a new

experience for him – as Harvey recalled, this prospective team

member literally did have a girl in every port and was probably

an absent father to many a bastard child that he didn’t even yet

realise existed. Harvey knew that that last comment would



have opened a gapping chasm of doubt and concern that would

only be alleviated by an all expenses venture off the Florida

Keys. The other team member as far as Harvey knew, was

holidaying somewhere in the Spanish resort of Northern

Minorca. However, this prospective team member would be

easy to find; he regularly enjoyed dabbling in various

recreational drugs and when he did this, trouble was never far

behind, often followed by the customary overnight stay in the

Hotel Paridiso – a colloquial term for a local police cells. All

Harvey would have to do is scan the police records of the

major North Minorcan resorts from the past few days and he

would have a certain result, and a relatively cheap one at that.Harvey would only need to pay the release fine and a

sweetener to the local police chief, but would also ensure that

he reminded the team member that in international waters,

drug use was perfectly legal, providing of course he only

brought enough for ‘ personal’ use. Momentarily Harvey

reflected on his choice of crew – he often wondered how he

could justify having a polygamous sex fanatic and a known

drug addict involved in a project that was going to radicallyinfluence government strategy around the globe. On the other

hand, having known both men for the best part of his life,

Harvey knew that character as well as competence was a

significant factor in his preferences, and anyone who didn’t

like it could go to hell.

Having spent most of his day alternating between various

communicative devices, and periodically pacing anxiously backwards and forwards in a small, insignificant room on the

ground floor of the Consulate buildings, Harvey looked for

solace out of the one small window in his ‘makeshift’ office.

The window was nothing more than the size of a shoebox that

let in pitiful amounts of natural light, yet the ferocity of the

storm outside was evident as trees yielded to the wind at

unnatural angles and the rain drove in horizontally. “Unlimited

budget my arse!” he muttered scornfully to himself. Frustrated by the slow progress, he had become noticeably agitated by

every mechanical murmur or distant telephone ringing.

Frowning and shaking his head, he reflected upon how the



future of mankind hinged on the merits of such universal, yet

somewhat perplexing technologies such as Wi-Fi and digital

phone networks. He found the whole notion quite disturbing.

As he looked around the room, he was astounded by the

amount of technology that could be crammed into such a tiny

space – his own personal TARDIS he thought, which brought a

wry smile to his face, suddenly having flashbacks to his

childhood as he hid behind the sofa from such foes as The

Cybermen and The Daleks. His brief contentment was soon

replaced by irritation as one of the ceiling lights began to blink

tentatively at him with annoying regularity. Not even a quick

game of solitaire (that he had found on his laptop) seemed to be able to alleviate the stresses and strains allied to the waiting

game. He just hoped that all of his efforts were not in vain, and

that the preferences for his ‘ A team’ would soon be realised; he

began to recognise just how bored he was when he began to

couple the original ‘A team’ members from the 1980’s TV

series with those of his prospective crew. Thankfully, such a

pathetic diversion did not last long, as the various assortment

of equipment began to operate in unison, regurgitating thenews that he had been waiting for, although it wasn’t all as

good as he had hoped. An e-mail informed him that one of his

team – Julian Rees – couldn’t make it until the following

week, but this wouldn’t be a major problem as there was still

ample planning that needed to be done. The only real bad news

was that his boat’s skipper, Ed Matson, had torn his knee

ligaments during a drunken skiing prank and he would need anoperation before he’d be back on a boat again. “Typical

Matson!” he said aloud, but was ecstatic and pleasantly

surprised that the others could make it, albeit at staggered

intervals. He managed a broad smile and clenched his fists in

triumph, careful not to completely lose control of his emotions

– he hated it when people did that. Not only had he just about

got the team he wanted, but at last he could walk free from the

space that had virtually become his prison over the lastseventy-two hours.

Now he could concentrate his efforts on organising the

other aspects of the trip. His extensive knowledge of



organising such trips enabled him to easily prioritise his time;

firstly there were the refreshments – he knew his crew would

soon mutiny without such basic necessities. He was then able

to get around to the more mundane duty of producing a

detailed itinerary for the journey and ensuring that every piece

of equipment on his rather substantial list was delivered on

time and to the same location. He knew only too well the

delays that could be caused by not triple checking invoices and

physically tracking every piece of equipment from its

departure point to its destination. However, modern

technologies had made such a task far easier than a few

decades ago. His preparations concluded with a long haulflight to Boca Raton Airport, Florida, on a very luxurious

Gulfstream jet. The stewardess on board was very

accommodating to Harvey’s every need, and he often wished

he had the confidence and courage to take it a little further.

Joining the mile high club was certainly on his bucket list,

along with swimming with Great White sharks. He often

wondered whether he would ever reach his ultimate task of

sleeping with twin sisters – fat chance, as he was still nowherenear to achieving number five on his list.

The plane journey was followed by a somewhat tedious

limousine ride to the rendezvous site, a good few hours from

the airport – Taylor Creek Marina, Fort Pierce. This site

provided an inconspicuous location for departure, and would

facilitate an easy access to the Atlantic Ocean. Hundreds of

boats would be moored at the marina, hosting an array ofsocial groupings – millionaires, billionaires, sports fishermen,

commercial fishermen and tourists. The team could leave as

discreetly as they would arrive, or so Harvey hoped and

prayed. It had been a few years since the team had been

together, and from what he remembered, ‘tactful’ was certainly

not a word that he would have used to describe them.



Taylor Creek Marina

Harvey was woken verbally by the chauffeur as the car pulled

into the marina, the brakes emitting a tiresome moan as the car

drifted to a gentle halt. Harvey looked at his watch and yawned

uncontrollably, blaming his lethargy on the difference in time

zones, although the truth of it was that he just wasn’t as young

as he often felt. After rubbing his eyes and thoroughly

examining his stubble with his fingers, Harvey located and

pressed the button that lowered his window. The searing heat

hit him instantly, and the intensity of the sun caused him towince. “Are you sure this is the right one?” he exclaimed,

using a flat hand to shelter his eyes from the sun

“Yes, Sir. This is definitely it!” replied the chauffeur

cheerfully, looking down towards his orders. His accent was

easily distinguishable – he was definitely an Aussie, and a

typical one at that, with beach blond curly hair, slim and that

easily recognisable tone. “ No mistake mate!” Harvey found is

strange how Aussies always ended their sentence with theirlast word rising in pitch, whereas South Africans ended their

sentence with a decrease in pitch. Just why such a piece of

trivia popped into Harvey’s head was beyond him, but he

found himself quietly repeating a sentence in both accents,

much to the bewilderment of the chauffeur who was watching

Harvey muttering to himself in the rear view mirror. On the

realisation that the chauffeur must be thinking he was starkraving mad, Harvey slowly exited the car, his joints cracking

as he stretched the fatigue from his body. Harvey was a sucker

to the heat, and with no longer being in the cocoon of the air

conditioned car, he was already feeling droplets of sweat build

up. He peeled his crinkled t-shirt from his back and then

donned his sunglasses. He walked along the loose shingle

towards a maze of boardwalks that stretched into the distance,

parading a multitude of boats of all shapes, sizes and colours.He was tired and just needed to know which one of the

beauties was going to be his home for the next few weeks. The

scent of the ocean filled his nostrils, a familiar blend of salt



and fish oil, bringing back memories long forgotten. He turned

towards the chauffeur.

“Which one?” inquired Harvey, his arms raised at half

mast, his face full perplexed. The chauffeur lowered his

window. “Which one?” Harvey repeated. The chauffeur

studied his itinerary, flicking back and forth between a number

of photocopied sheets.

“They don’t say what it’s called, just the bay number,

umm …297!” he replied, before exiting the car and removing

Harvey’s small holdall from the expansive boot. The chauffeur

walked to water ’s edge and gingerly placed the baggage on the

floor, returning quickly to the ecstasy of the chilly limousine.He hoped that his inability to swim and subsequent phobia of

expanses of water had not made him appear rude to his client,

but he now felt secure within the safe enclosure of his car.

Not that Harvey had noticed the chauffeur ’s lack of

presence. He felt in seventh heaven as he walked along the

expansive boardwalks, in awe of the beauty that surrounded

him, casually glancing at the bay numbers as he passed them.

Then Harvey just stopped, removing his sunglasses andswallowing deeply. He had found his booty. He double

checked the bay number, and only on turning towards the

shore to ask the chauffeur to confirm it, did he notice that he

was nowhere to be seen, although somehow his luggage had

made it to edge of the quayside. The boat that was moored at

number 297 appeared to be more of a luxury liner than a

research vessel. Harvey took his time to walk along the boat’sexterior, mesmerised by its graceful lines and purity – it

seemed untouched, virginal. As he moved down the massive

hull, he noticed a plaque on the ship’s bow, elegantly

announcing the name of this magnificent craft – ‘ Beagle’ – a

nice touch he thought. “I guess this is it!” he said to himself.

Harvey turned and walked back towards the car, regaining

possession of his holdall along the way. He tapped on the

window, which lowered effortlessly. “Thanks for the ride.” hesaid with a little sarcasm, and turned to walk away.

“Hey you’ll need this…” replied the chauffer. “It’s the

electronic key for that yacht…that thing has a lock for



everything mate…even the dunnie…” The chauffeur smiled,

and Harvey returned the gesture as he was passed the credit

card type key, miming the word bye, as he raised his free hand

and turned towards the marina.

As Harvey climbed on board the vessel, the pristine

wooden deck was only blemished by the high stacks of boxes,

crates and packages that crammed virtually every spare inch of

space, although a small alley had been created to allow access

to heart of the ship. He now had the unenviable task of

unpacking, checking items and moving them to their rightful

homes. Towards the back of the boxed landscape, Harvey

noticed a large, tinted double sized glass door that obviouslyled inside the boat. A keypad and card reader could be seen

adjacent to the huge glass doors. He studied the box for a

moment. On the console he could see a flashing red diode,

probably some type of alarm. He squeezed through the

cardboard alley and swiped the electronic card though the

machine and the red diode was replaced by a welcoming green

one. He studied the keypad even closer and noticed that as well

as numbers, there were two other buttons. Harvey then pressedthe ‘open’ switch, and watched with amazement as the double

doors slid silently open, revealing an interior fit for a king. He

spent an age looking inside the boat; it looked like something

from a glossy magazine with a luxurious kitchen and range

cooker, double sized fridge, double sink and oak panelled

units. The huge living room was very reminiscent of his

executive suite in Canada, with huge leather sofas, inglenookfireplace, a plasma TV and even a pool table. Even the carpet

smelt new. His eyes scanned the huge space to reveal a corner

bar with a waist high glass fridge. This focused him back to his

priorities – warm beer was never an option. As he moved to

the lower decks he found five double bedrooms (all en suite),

extra showers, a laundry room and endless storage space. He

then went back upstairs and wandered up into the control

room. The equipment overwhelmed him – he had never seensuch a collection of nautical wizardry. It was a shame that

Motson’s ski injury had excluded him from the trip, and he just

hoped that the captain Morkill had promised him could make



good use of it all. As he paced around the control room, it

reminded him of watching the space shuttle missions as a

youngster, and being impressed – even at such an early age –

by the flashing lights and sheer amount of gadgetry. He

remembered watching the events with his parents – one of his

happier memories.

After moving his luggage into the biggest bedroom, he

began the arduous task of unpacking the smaller boxes, which

much to his relief contained the food and beverages. He looked

at his watch, thought for a moment, before slyly opening a can

of lager to relieve his parched mouth, and although warm, it

certainly hit the spot. He spent a while neatly arranging the tinsof food in their rightful place; he hated untidiness, particularly

in confined spaces. This done, he turned his attention to the

rest of the containers.

The packing crates were getting larger and more difficult

to open. He smiled as he retrieved some fishing rods and

sealed bait – the entertainment for the journey there and back.

The chaps would relish a few days of sport fishing prior to

their dives. Then came the more intricate equipment – thediving gear. Harvey always took it upon himself to check all of

the gear thoroughly, and continued to do so with military

precision, as a marine would do when checking his gun. Even

the dive computer batteries and spares were included in the

inspection. He also examined the communications devices

which had been designed specifically for the trip by one of the

crew; these state of the art gadgets would allow two waycommunications up to a depth of fifty feet, but exactly how

they would do that was beyond Harvey. He loaded the

photographic equipment which was specially adapted for

amphibious work, having been fitted with strobe lighting to

help restore natural colour, and filters to offset the excessive

blue of the tropical waters within the Bermuda Triangle.

Finally, Harvey briefly checked the POD (Protective Oceanic

Device) which would provide protection from shark attack.They were clever little devices that emitted electrical signals to

disturb a shark ’s electrical detection system which could detect

one billionth of a volt of electricity. Harvey swore by such



devices, and attributed the fact that he had never come close to

any shark to their success. How he was ever going to stare into

the black eyes of a Great White was still beyond him…perhaps

he should swim with smaller sharks first, before going in at the

deep end so to speak. Anyway, that was number two on his

bucket list and he had yet to run a marathon or visit Machu

Picchu.

After spending several hours unpacking, organising,

arranging and checking, he retreated to his bed for some much

needed rest, although he had hardly lay down before he heard a

commotion outside. Knowing exactly what it was, he took a

deep breath and jumped out of his bed. As he jogged upstairsand onto the deck, the contrast in light caused him to squint

and turn his head to the side, allowing his eyes to adjust. As his

eyes began to refocus, he was greeted loudly and

enthusiastically by what he could now see was his team exiting

a small minibus. He threw his hands in the air and reciprocated

with a rowdy cheer, urging them to come aboard as he quickly

retreated to the fridge for a pack of beer. One by one they

climbed on board, and Harvey hugged them excitedly before passing them a lukewarm beer.

Harvey had chosen a variety of specialists, all of whom

had worked with him before on his numerous globetrotting

escapades. Kevin Batty was an American Ecologist,

specialising in species classification, having spent his last year

within the far reaches of the Amazon; Peter Jones was an

Environmentalist from Canada, who had spent his last twoyears in the Antarctic, closely monitoring the reduction of the

winter pack ice due to the effects of global warming. There

was also Julian Rees, who was an ex-university buddy in

Wales – a closet alcoholic and drug addict – and one of

Harvey’s closest friends. Rees possessed exceptional technical

skills, but was also rarely without a substantial supply of his

home-grown ‘entertainment’ that always helped to allay those

lengthy and tedious interludes experienced on such long journeys. In addition to the main team, there were three other

crew members – a captain, to replace the injured Matson, and

two deck hands. None of these men were familiar to the team,



and provided Harvey with a harsh reminder that although he

was co-ordinating this expedition, someone else was pulling

the strings.

It was a warm evening, with a slight breeze blowing from

the east. The clouds were strawberry red as the sun gently

smiled on them. At the captain’s instruction, the mooring was

released, and the boat moved effortlessly into the sunset, and

soon faded into the horizon. Rees thought this an opportune

moment to experience life through another plane and skilfully

rolled a large joint, whilst the other members of the team sat

around the dining table, devising drinking games that they

played with youthful zest. The beer flowed well that night, asdid their favourite tales brought up to embarrass those

involved, whilst greatly entertaining those who weren’t.

It was early morning when the captain dutifully woke the

team, although Harvey was already up and dressed when the

captain knocked on his door. Harvey had made many similar

trips before, but he could never help but feel restless on the

first night of an outward journey. It seemed to have become a

sort of tradition. He looked down at his watch. There was stilla good few hours sailing time before they entered the notorious

stretches of the Bermuda Triangle, and although heavily hung-

over and deprived of sleep, each member of the team had

duties to fulfil, which they did without complaint. Batty took it

upon himself to perform what he thought to be one of the most

important rituals of the day and cooked a full English

breakfast, though he was still groggy from the excesses of thenight before. Needless to say, it was greeted with anticipation

and eaten with gusto. Satisfied, the team began to prepare their

fishing rods with great excitement and for the next few hours

they were all adolescents again, laughing uncontrollably,

teasing and goading each other ’s efforts. After a good few

hours of organised chaos, the boat slowly came to a halt, much

to the bemusement of those who would swear blind that they

had something huge on their line. However, the team dutifully packed away their fun, and carefully prepared for the initial

dive – playtime was over and it was time to go to work. The

diving cylinders were double-checked by Rees, who then



passed one of them to Harvey with a big grin on his face; both

Rees and Harvey were already in their wet suits and would be

first to dive – an executive decision made earlier by Harvey.

The sea was calm that day, and the sun intense – perfect

diving conditions. As the two friends entered the water from

the back of the boat, the transition between worlds was instant.

On deck, the general hustle and bustle of voices and machinery

was almost deafening, but now they found themselves in a

peaceful and tranquil environment. The water was as clear as

crystal, with beams of light penetrating the depths,

highlighting a plethora of exceptional, contrasting colours and

shimmering movements – an animated colour portrait. Amyriad of fish sparkled around the two trespassers; the

slightest movement by either of the men would send the fish

into a simultaneous retreat of metallic brilliance, yet their

inquisitiveness would again bring them close only seconds

later. Both men felt a sense of belonging – as if they were

encased within Mother Nature’s amnion, although she would

not nurture any maternal instinct towards them here. As they

descended further into the depths, they began collecting visualsamples of the marine life with their cameras, and occasionally

collecting representative physical samples with their spear

guns. Although the divers were able to communicate with each

other continuously, their descent was splendidly silent.

Within a matter of minutes they had descended onto a

plateau on the highest point of the reef, and more physical

specimens of the coral itself were collected and placed intosmall containers. Harvey’s inquisitive nature encouraged him

ever closer towards the plateau’s fringe, and he soon found

himself staring down its magnificent slopes into the abyss. The

drop was sheer, yet he noticed a shelf protruding from the

depths, no more than fifty feet below. He contemplated the risk

inherent in a descent to the shelf, but his curiosity sanctioned

his appetite for danger. Rees was now beside him, and Harvey

let him know of his intent with hand signals despite thetechnology available – such tried and tested systems would

never be replaced. Rees was un-phased by the proposal and

nodded his agreement; he had dived with Harvey many times,



and had seen him perform much more elaborate stunts that this

one. Both men synchronised their watches and agreed to

maintain constant communications. As Harvey began his

descent into the void below, Rees continued to explore the

upper fractions of the reef.

As always, Harvey was cautious during the descent – the

coral could easily tear through his wet suit. He was also aware

that sharks frequented these waters, and although the species

were not inherently man-eaters, he was not going to provide

any incentive for them to indulge in their predatory instincts,

POD or no POD.

Harvey’s attention was distracted momentarily during hisdescent by something moving in his peripheral vision. He

turned to see what was there, half expecting to see that Rees

had decided to join him, but he was alone. It was taking longer

than anticipated to reach the shelf and with the reduced

visibility, Harvey switched on his torch which was mounted on

the side of his face mask. Its beam dispersed quickly within the

animated gloom, although the strobe light from his camera

provided adequate illumination of the nearby surroundings. Ashe slowly descended, he surveyed the surrounding area. The

luminosity from the strobe light highlighted a distinct yet

unfamiliar darkish green matter that intermittently covered the

coral wall around him. He stopped his descent momentarily

while he took a sample between his fingers; it had the

consistency of jelly, yet was incredibly sticky. He hadn’t

experienced the substance before, associating it to some formof algae. He placed a small sample into a Petri dish along with

the other samples in his nylon diving bag, and took several

photographs. Diving deeper, the green substance appeared to

become more abundant on the gently sloping coral around him,

taking the appearance of fields or meadows in the beautiful

English countryside. As he raised his camera to photograph the

surreal landscape before him, he again saw movement in the

distance, just beyond the effective range of his torch andstrobe. He checked that his spear gun was loaded, just in case

any sharks should decide to take an unhealthy interest in him.

Looking at his watch, he was disturbed by an uncharacteristic



lapse in his time keeping – an unforgivable error for a man of

his diving experience. In a vain effort to justify his

miscalculation, he blamed his situation on his lack of

communication with Rees, which had become tainted with

static and at times incoherent. He made a mental note of his

location, opting to return the next day to take his photographs

and ensure that Rees or Batty was with him. He began to

inflate one of the flotation balloons, which would enable him

to ascend to the plateau in safety. As he slowly ascended, he

became alarmed at the muddled voice of Rees in his earpiece,

which seemed uncharacteristically panicky.

Then, without warning, something emerged from thedarkness below. A blur travelling at immense speed struck his

shoulder, jolting out his mouthpiece and instantly blinding his

vision as the compressed air escaped, sending his floatation

balloon spiralling upwards as the jolt caused him to lose his

grip. Momentarily stunned and unable to stabilise himself as

he reached the shelf, he began to fall backwards into the

blackness below. Years of diving experience ensured that he

didn’t panic, with the obvious fatal consequences. As hedescended into the blackness something struck him again, not

as violently as the first strike, but still confusing his bearings

even more. In the confusion, he was not immediately aware

that the sharp ten inch blade from his spear gun had pierced his

wet suit and entered his abdominal cavity, there were too many

thoughts running through his head for him to take it all in.

With his heart thumping, he located his mouthpiece and triedto control his erratic breathing. As he rapidly descended into

the depths, he frantically tried to correct his orientation,

violently colliding with the coral wall, which ripped into his

wet suit, tearing open flesh and splintering the bones in his

right forearm and hands. Blood seeped readily into the water

around him, slowly at first but then with more haste – a great

advertisement to anything with more teeth than brain cells.

He seemed to descend for what he thought was an eternity, but his fall eventually came to an abrupt end as he hit the

ocean floor, the impact causing him to fall slowly backwards

onto his air tanks. He lay there for a moment in virtual



darkness, his only comfort being the strobe lighting from his

camera, highlighting the fact that the green matter was

everywhere around him. Everything was still, apart from his

own blood swirling around him. His deep breaths were the

only sound to punctuate the ghostly silence. His numbness was

like that of a child having awoken after a nightmare; the

middle of the night, as dark as pitch, blacker than wet coal, and

yearning for the sanctuary of daylight, or the loving embrace

of a parent. The sight of his own blood and the exposed flesh

and whiteness of the protruding, shattered radius caused him to

shake uncontrollably as panic and shock took hold. He

experienced a warm yet welcoming sensation as he urinatedhimself.

Even now, Harvey was well aware of the inherent dangers

of a quick ascent in water, but his desire to reach the safety of

his friends became paramount. The demands on his

cardiovascular system were causing him to hyperventilate, and

his co-ordination had become awkward as he fumbled to locate

another flotation balloon. Mercifully, the pain from his broken

arm lessened as it became numb where it was exposed to theintensely cold water. He regained some degree of composure

and tried in vain to contact Rees via his headset, although all

he heard was static and clicks.

Then from the corner of his eye, he saw an object moving

in the distance, its pale colour contrasting vibrantly against the

harsh blackness. As the object drew nearer, blind panic began

to play havoc with his psyche, and he was finding it harder andharder to breathe. As he squinted to focus his vision, the

object’s outline became less vague. Sheer disbelief besieged

Harvey.

He could see that the form was definitely that of a human

being, not a shark as he had initially thought. The figure swam

closer, travelling graciously through the water, arms at the

side, legs tight together; the body moved in a rhythm that

mimicked that of a dolphin. A wave of motion moved throughthe body gaining amplitude towards the feet. The figure

stopped at random to collect the same green matter from the

coral that had initially distracted Harvey. The figure was soon



no more than a few feet away and at times seemed to be

oblivious to Harvey’s presence and the glow from his strobe.

Harvey lay there in shock, his heart racing, although he

was hardly even breathing. The figure appeared to be that of a

woman. As she moved dreamily above him, he could see her

long auburn hair rippling in the under currents, resembling

thousands of tiny cobras being charmed by the symphony of

the sea. Her face was a perfect picture of health; her full lips

complemented her unblemished brown skin and dark eyes,

which surveyed every feature of the environment. Harvey just

wished that he was not going to be her prey. A white blouse

meandered softly over her ample bosom and knee lengthtrousers clung tightly to her shapely thighs. Her feet were bare.

Harvey’s desire to look at the beautiful figure became

increasingly intoxicating and he somehow rose to his feet,

advancing slowly closer as she swam slowly in front of him,

his arm outstretched as if he needed to touch her to make sure

she was real. He stopped and shook his head; surely he must be

dreaming. As a youngster he had often become frightened by

bedtime tales about mermaids, and how sailors had been luredto their deaths by such beautiful creatures. He tried desperately

to rationalise with himself and concluded that that the figure in

front of him was a figment of his imagination – a result of

nitrogen narcosis and major blood loss. He closed his eyes and

consciously began to recite the twelve times table in an attempt

to return to rationality, but he began to find even this simple

task difficult as his co-ordination waned rapidly. He openedhis eyes again and was grieved to find himself still there; he

had hoped he would wake up in some warm bed, and be able

to roll over with a smile on his face, knowing it had all been a

bad dream. The reality of the situation soon dawned on him.

He had no idea what he was witnessing; something so

extraordinary, although he had no explanation as to what it

was. Instinctively he attempted to raise his camera as a pre-

determined response to his uncertainty; pain shot up his brokenforearm, causing him to grimace and almost pass out. He

slowly grabbed the camera with his opposite hand. He began to

feel weak as the pain intensified. He was only able to take half



a dozen shots at very close range before the figure responded

with obvious distress, moving its hands over its face, its legs

bent double and its body hunched into a foetal position.

Harvey’s desire to ascend was now paramount and outweighed

any fear. Without checking he had sufficient oxygen left in his

tanks, he hastily removed his mouthpiece to inflate another

flotation balloon, and within seconds he started to ascend,

slowly at first as the air began to fill the balloon. The figure

became less distinct as he emerged from the gloom of the coral

bed, and he began to relax as the natural light became more

intense and welcoming. A daunting thought leapt across his

mind. He grabbed his camera, and checked that there wasactually still enough space on his disk drive, his huge sigh of

relief was evident from the excessive scuba exhaust. He

wondered how he was going to explain the experience to his

crew – there was no way that anyone on board would believe

his account, particularly after the tales of the previous night.

He could now make out the hull of the ship above him – he

was going to make it. His fear began to be replaced with hope,

but only briefly. The figure again ascended towards Harvey,rapidly approaching from the gloom below. Despite his frantic

efforts to evade the approaching spectre, it quickly reached

him and a ferocious struggle ensued. Harvey’s mouthpiece

again became dislodged, although this time it was a result of it

having been violently yanked out of his mouth. As he fumbled

anxiously to replace it, the figure began to wrestle him back

into its dark retreat with immense strength, Harvey’s uselessarm offered scant resistance. While Harvey tried desperately to

escape from the assailant’s vice like grip, his chest became

progressively tighter and his actions less erratic. The figure

drew out Harvey’s own diver ’s knife, and cut effortlessly

through Harvey’s breathing tube. Harvey blindly lashed out –

this last futile effort exposing the assailant’s face to Harvey’s

flashing camera. Within a short space of time he passed into

unconsciousness, and as water poured into David Harvey’sscreaming lungs, his body convulsed one last time, then

nothing.



Aboard the ‘Beagle ’

Rees surfaced from the dive in a cloud of bubbles. His desire

to get aboard quickly was evident as he brushed past Batty and

Jones who were ready to assist him by removing his aqua lung.

Rees removed his mouthpiece and screamed his words.

“Is he here?” Batty and Jones looked puzzled at one

another. “Is he fucking here?” Rees shouted again.

“Who?” interjected Batty.

“David…David…Is he here?” replied Rees, throwing his

aqua lung to the floor, and prising off his wetsuit.

Batty and Jones looked again at each other, baffled by thequestioning. “I thought he was with you?” intoned Jones, with

a worried look on his face.

“He was…we got separated and…I don’t know where he

is!” answered Rees.

“Holy fuck! What do you mean you got separated?”

retorted Batty.

“I mean we got separated…simple as!” replied a distraught

Rees. There was long pause as Batty and Jones tried tocomprehend the situation, occasionally looking at each other

for answers. Rees continued. “He…he wanted to explore

another part of the reef…”

“And you let him…you left him alone! Jesus Christ Julian,

what the fuck did you think you were doing?” asked Jones.

“I…I…I don’t know. You know what Dave’s like…he

went off exploring on his own…the first thing I knew thatsomething was wrong was when a flotation balloon passed me

as I collected samples on the plateau, and then I saw excessive

scuba exhaust coming from below.” Rees’ voice became

noticeably strained. “I searched in vain on the edge of the

plateau, but could not see any signs of him. Instinct told me to

go and locate him, but experience persuaded me otherwise… I

just made haste for the Beagle…and this pile of shit was

useless…” he remarked as he pointed to the communicationdevice within his mask, which he threw violently to the

ground.



“…Jesus, give me that aqua lung…I’m going down there”

said Batty, picking up the aqua lung and beginning to feed his

arms through the straps.

“No…No, Kevin. We can’t risk it…if anything happened

to you as well…” Rees sighed and shook his head. “By the

book…we must do this by the book. I say we give the order for

the captain to send an S.O.S. OK?” Batty and Jones looked at

each other and then to Rees; both men nodded their heads,

their faces full of anguish. “OK then…you two go and look for

any signs of Dave, and I’ll go and see the captain.”

As Rees talked to the captain, he was disturbed by Batty

running into the control room.“Julian…we’ve found something. Come quickly.”

Rees looked to the captain who nodded to him. The captain

knew what he had to do and reached towards the handset of his

radio. Rees rushed out of the room, following behind Batty

who ran towards the bough of the ship. They saw Jones

reaching into the water with a barge pole, retrieving a solitary

floatation device. Jones turned towards the pair, shaking his

head; he knew it didn’t look hopeful. Then, without warning, ahuge area of water around the ship rose up tens of feet into the

air rocking the boat; it was as if a bomb had exploded under

the water, yet there was no booming sound to follow, just that

of the water as it cascaded heavily back to earth, covering the

entire ship and its occupants. Again the water rose high into

the air; again and again. By now the boat was rocking violently

to and fro and beginning to take on water. A drenched Reesturned to the others. Sheer panic adorned his face.

Fort Lauderdale Coast Guard Station

The US Coast Guard received the automated S.O.S signal a

little after noon. On checking the identification reference of thesignal, a few preliminary searches confirmed its source as the

Beagle, an independently registered research vessel.



“Friggin’ scientists!” muttered the chief coastguard under

his breath, “They might be able to dive but they’ve got no idea

how to friggin’ sail.” After logging the call on his VDU, he

then implemented the preliminary stages required for a basic

‘Man over board’ rescue procedure, involving a helicopter

search which would be scrambled from an airbase nearby. A

rescue boat, already returning from a previous incident would

also divert its course to the rescue location which, in the calm

conditions, was a little over six hours away. “Hardly worth

going if he hasn’t surfaced yet!” the coastguard said loudly.

“Still…” he said to no one in particular with a wry smile on his

face. “…if the life boat don’t pick him up…the sharks surewill.”

Checking the position of the boats out that day, the chief

coastguard directed a call through to the Deliverance which

was patrolling the waters within 200 miles of the Beagle.

Captain Adam Parsons of the Deliverance was a little surprised

to get this kind of call on such a clear and calm day and

blamed the renowned drinking exploits of sports fisherman

who frequented the area from which the S.O.S call was made.Turning the ship toward the Beagle, Parsons opened up the

engines, which responded instantly in a blur of noise and foam.

The Deliverance reached its destination within five hours

of the initial SOS call being sent from the Beagle. However, a

second SOS was made from the Beagle about ten minutes after

the initial call, upgrading the urgency of the SOS to that of a

capsizing and sinking situation. However, this message had been incoherent, tainted by static, and the signal eventually

lost.

As the Deliverance reached its destination, the Beagle was

nowhere to be seen – there was no indication of it on the ship’s

radar and no evidence of any wreckage, just two inflatable life

rafts, gently rotating on the pond-like water. The Deliverance

had been directed to this location by the search and rescue

helicopter that had spotted the life rafts hours earlier, but hadto return to base due to low fuel. Its extensive search of the

immediate area had revealed nothing. A further visual

inspection of the rafts by the team on board the Deliverance



condition, although heavily bloated. Bound to the corpse was a

net containing various specimens, a camera and a spear gun,

though Robinson failed to notice the severed breathing pipe.

Parsons immediately reported to base, informing them that

a body had been discovered, and from the evidence of the wet

suit, surmised that the body had been carried onto the coral

reef by the powerful under currents. However, he could not

explain the disappearance of the research vessel or the

remainder of its crew and although probable, he could not yet

be certain that the diver had been a member of the research

team. Parsons chronicled the incident in his journal as

‘Accidental Drowning and Unexplained Disappearance’,knowing this could be amended as and when new information

came to light. The corpse was placed into a body bag, zipped

up and then placed into refrigeration, whilst the possessions

were sealed and locked away. Parsons couldn’t help but

wonder whether the dormant mysteries of the Bermuda

Triangle were yet again going to revive a focus of media

frenzy and macabre fascination that had heightened in the

1970s and 80s. Parsons could offer no other explanation, evenwith his years of knowledge and judgement.



Chapter Three

UCLA, California

Professor John Huxley – a senior lecturer of Environmental

Sciences at The UCLA – had arrived early into work. He hated

early starts – the darkness, the deep chill of the morning air,

but most of all, the feeling of isolation. It would be a good few

hours before he would see any signs of civilisation.Two weeks had elapsed since the mysterious and

unexpected death of his great friend and colleague David

Harvey. The anguish that he had experienced over the past

fortnight had become detrimental to his work, and put him

desperately behind schedule with his research. No one seemed

to understand his pain, which had been further heightened by

the discovery that the F.B.I was heading an investigation intoHarvey’s death. To add insult to injury, the F.B.I had refused

to release Harvey’s body for burial.

Huxley unlocked the door to his office – a spacious room,

full of leather-bound books from floor to ceiling, housed in

dark stained wooden cabinets which made the interior rather

dark and aged, yet eerily beautiful and archaic, with not a

speck of dust in sight. The distinct smell was a mature mixture

of dampness and leather, although Huxley could no longerdistinguish it as easily as he used to. Huxley’s desk was

brimming with disorder, the only irregular feature being a

distinct framed photograph – himself as a child, his parents

kissing him on either cheek. He looked at the photograph for a

moment and laughed at his long flowing hair, and his

sheepskin waistcoat. His parents were themselves a mass of

hair and flowers. He was a true product of the sexual

revolution of the 1960s; his parents often took him to rock

concerts and he spent much of his childhood within hippie

communes – he vividly recalled the tepees, incense and the

beads. His parents were among the first new generation of eco-



warriors, and he spent his early years following them from one

ecological crusade to another. He actually met his wife during

one of the many C.N.D campaigns at Greenham Common Air

Force Base in the early 1980s, but unfortunately, she was

killed – six months pregnant – during an anti-roads protest in

the early1990s, which helped to fuel his ambition to influence

political ideals. Thus he became a significant, world renowned

figurehead in raising ecological awareness on such issues as

the global effects of the destruction of the Amazon Rain

Forest, and was a key figure in the development of the

ideology behind global warming and the greenhouse effect. He

also assisted in the aftermath of such ecological disasters as theearthquakes in Kobe in Japan and Golcuk in Turkey, and the

Tsunami that devastated areas of Asia in the early years of the

new millennium. He possessed a definite focus in life, and

used the education system to inspire future generations. He

lived to work, while those around him worked to live.

As he was returning one of his weightier reference books

to its usual place on the upper bookshelves, there was a faint

and unexpected knock at the door. He paused and looked at hiswatch, thinking it to be a little early for a student. Again there

was a knock, a little louder this time. Huxley let out an

awkward sigh, his train of thought broken.

“Come in,” he said, clearly agitated, peering over the top

of his spectacles to see what his invitation would yield. His

Scottish accent was gentle, but definite.

Standing in front of him were two immaculately suitedmen, handsome and dark skinned. Both wore identical dark

glasses, although they were removed as they entered the room.

“Professor Huxley?” asked the shorter of the two men.

There was a pause and he repeated his question.

“Yes...and you are?”

“Agents Rogers and Johnson.” replied the taller man,

firstly pointing to himself and then his partner. Both men

presented their identification with authority as they entered,although Johnson took a second to check the corridor prior to

closing the door.

survival of the fittest by cray crawford

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