Death Diamonds of Bermudez Read online

  Death Diamonds of Bermúdez

  Copyright 2008 Rodney Farrington

  www.bermudaspinners.com

  Wonderful People who contributed to this book:

  Jason Farrington has created outstanding graphic designs for this novel.

  www.gorilladesignstudio.net

  Rod Ferguson of Bermuda and Pat Farrington of the United States have made contributions of their time and thoughts to help make this novel possible.

  Dedication:

  I would like to dedicate this novel to the past, present and future of Bermuda. The rich history of this island should be cherished and preserved forever. This is one of the few places on earth that you can step back into time and experience the past. Visit Tom Moore’s Jungle to experience Bermuda as the first inhabitants did, or step back into history one hundred fifty years ago with a visit to the Village of St. George’s.

  Yes, even today there is an ongoing effort to maintain the natural beauty and the limited resources of the island, but Bermudians are committed to preserving their precious island.

  The future is bright for Bermuda. Bermudians have embraced going green, and with the dedicated support of the Bermuda Government, this island will remain a pristine paradise in the Atlantic Ocean for centuries to come.

  Reference Books Acknowledgement:

  “Boer Prisoners of War in Bermuda”, Copyright 1962

  “New Orleans the Growth of the City”, Copyright 2007

  Introduction:

  Bermuda is the most beautiful place on earth, and whoever reads this novel should take at least one week out of their busy lives to visit one of the most incredible places on the earth. There you will find soft pristine turquoise-colored waves gently rolling up on the pink beaches. You will also find breathtaking the myriad combinations of arbors, shrubs, vines and flowers that reflect all the colors of the rainbow. Then, when you consider the historic Forts, the village of St. George’s and the most picturesque golf courses in the world….. Yes, Bermuda is truly an island paradise.

  Characters depicted in this novel other than known historical persons are all fictitious, comparisons to people living in the past or present is coincidental and not intentional.

  Chapters

  The City of Mardi Gras

  The City of the Dead

  The Boer War

  Unexpected Visitors

  Secret of Long Island

  Clues from the Dead

  What Lies Beneath

  The Heat is on

  Breaking the Code

  The Depths of Darkness

  Dead Man’s Moon

  Every Which Way But Up

  The Chase is on

  Hide and Seek

  The Ambush

  The Reunion

  The Tunnel of Death

  Guardian of the Tunnel

  The Lost City

  The Hunters

  Captured

  Prisoner of War

  The Death Trap

  Spinners to the Rescue

  The Tower of Life

  The Great escape

  Which Way Out

  Crystal Caverns

  Rumble in the Jungle

  Just another day in Paradise

  The City of Mardi Gras

  Special FBI agent Derrick Storm arrived back to his beloved city of New Orleans after months of round the clock undercover work. Storm’s travels had him on duty in Iraq, Bermuda, and New York. Just stepping off the airplane, Storm could smell the unique cuisine of New Orleans. As he rode through the city in a taxi he found it still depressing to see the aftermath of Katrina so long after the hurricane had struck. He could only hope that someday the city he loved would be returned to its former glory.

  Storm can best be described as a dark skinned thirty-five year old, six feet one inch tall with a medium large build. He holds a black belt in karate, and he is one of the finest FBI agents in the country.

  With his international terrorists assignment finally over, Storm was ready for a break. He would never forget his new found friend, Inspector Ian Savage, who had helped him foil the terrorists’ attempts to attack and kill thousands of people in New York City. He also would never forget that Savage had saved his life on several occasions. Ian Savage, one of the most respected inspectors on the Bermuda Police Force, was stationed at the St. George’s branch. Caucasian, six feet tall, medium build, and at forty-six very fit for his age with a past history of competing in the annual police boxing tournaments, Savage was definitely a man Storm would trust with his life.

  Storm had arrived home just in time to partake in the festive Mardi Gras Parade. A week long party on Bourbon Street was just what Storm needed to unwind and relax. He was fortunate to own a three story flat in the heart of the French Quarter. Storm spent the afternoon relaxing to make sure he was well rested for the parade that night. Unfortunately he overslept and did not arrive at the parade route until well after the festivities were under way. Storm managed to squeeze his way through the crowd to the front where he could see the floats pass by and have a chance of catching the colorful beaded necklaces. Almost every float in the Mardi Gras parade had people dressed in elaborate costumes as they threw necklaces to the crowds to catch. For Storm the best part of the parade was catching the necklaces as they were thrown from the floats; although he never kept them. Instead he always gave them to kids after the parade was over. Most of these kids were too small to catch beaded necklaces for themselves.

  After the parade was over, Storm ventured down to Bourbon Street to visit his favorite neighborhood bar. Bourbon Street was exceptionally crowded with festive party goers. Finally, Storm made his way into the bar and sat down in a small booth by the front window overlooking Bourbon Street. Storm enjoyed watching the people pass by while he nursed his draught beer. People partying on Bourbon Street, especially during Mardi Gras, will dress up in crazy costumes and do things they might not normally do. As the night wore on Storm noticed four men sitting in the booth behind him. Two things out of the ordinary caught his attention. First of all, they were dressed in some type of bush jackets and hats which had nothing to do with Mardi Gras. Secondly, they all spoke with an unusual accent. They were also using phrases and words he had heard while in Bermuda. However, they clearly were not Bermudian. Because of the loud celebration going on in the bar, Storm could only pick up pieces of their conservations.

  These visitors were from South Africa, and they were not just any South Africans. They called themselves ‘Boers,’ descendants of early Dutch settlers in South Africa who had fought the British in two wars in the eighteen hundreds. Although they eventually lost both wars they cost the British military thousands of casualties. The Boers had been immortalized by many of the old guard in South Africa. Storm would soon discover that these men were more evil than the Cobra terrorists he and Savage had eliminated in New York.

  One of the men speaking was Kruger Van Eck, the leader of this small group of new Boer renegades. Most of these men were ex-paramilitary officers from the old South African Apartheid Army or sons of ex-officers. These throwbacks were never going to be assimilated into the new South Africa where all men are equal. Van Eck had no delusion of overthrowing the South African Government, but he did have plans to annex areas of South Africa back to the Boers who lost them over one hundred years ago at the defeat of the British.

  Van Eck, who was from a very wealthy family in South Africa that owned several diamond mines, was saying, “Men, our cause has led us to New Orleans. Here is where we will find the map that has eluded us for years”. Van Eck had recently discovered a lost letter from one of his long lost relatives, Fritz Duquesne. Duquesne had served in the Boer War and was captured by the British then shipped of
f to Bermuda for interment. The young Fritz Duquesne hated the British with a passion. He was so disruptive in prison that he was often assigned to be the grave digger for his fallen comrades in prison. This made Fritz hate his captors even more. While digging graves on Long Island, Fritz and several of his comrades had made a discovery that they had told no one about. Later on, most of Duquesne’s comrades who also knew the secret of Long Island were found murdered. Just before the Boer War ended Fritz was one of only a few prisoners who escaped the prison on Bermuda. He was never brought to justice for his escape and he never was able to return to Bermuda.

  Fritz Duquesne was not through with the British. During World War I and II he acted as a German undercover agent, but was finally captured in the United States just before the close of World War II. After being released from a US prison in the nineteen fifties, Duquesne just faded away and died a broken man a few years later. Shortly before the end of his life he sent a map with the secrets of Long Island sewn into his old Boer military jacket to a fellow prisoner of the Boer war who lived in New Orleans. Koos de Klerk died a few years later in nineteen sixty one apparently taking this secret to the grave.

  Van Eck’s family had been the recipient of a letter from Duquesne just before his death, but it had been lost for years. Kruger Van Eck had found the letter in the bottom of a cedar chest. Although Van Eck found it hard to believe the letter’s contents, it would be life changing for him and his henchmen. Finally, they had a chance to restore the Boer nation in a portion of South Africa. Van Eck’s big break came earlier last month when he was reading an Internet obituary on de Klerk. He had read that de Klerk had been buried wearing a military jacket which meant it had to be Duquesne’s military jacket. With this information Van Eck knew what needed to be done.

  Van Eck continued, “We will find the map in one of the Cities of the Dead”.

  One of his men spoke up saying, “What the bloody hell is the City of the Dead?”

  Van Eck’s face turned red while he replied, “You idiot, it’s what they call cemeteries in New Orleans. Tomorrow night we will visit the grave that holds our secret.”

  Van Eck was right. Cemeteries in New Orleans were called ‘Cities of the Dead’ because the dead were buried above the ground in tombs that looked like miniature buildings. The water table is so high in New Orleans that when coffins were placed in the ground many would float back to the surface in time. From a distance these cemeteries appear to be miniature cities.

  One of his other men with a nervous voice said, “Why do we have to visit the cemetery at night? Can’t we go there in daylight?”

  Van Eck, still red-faced, snapped back, “I’m surrounded by fools. Do you want the local authorities asking us questions?”

  Although Storm had only picked up bits and pieces of the conversation he felt he needed to get a good look at the four men in the booth behind him. Storm slid out of the booth, thinking it was a good time to go to the men’s room. He would have to walk right by the booth of South Africans. As he passed by the booth one of the South Africans also decided to go to the men’s room and bumped into Storm. Storm turned to look down at the man who had sat back down abruptly and said, “Excuse me, I didn’t see you.”

  The man looked up at Storm and threatened him as he pulled out a knife from his jacket. “Boy, you better be more careful, or I might have to teach you a lesson in manners.”

  Storm who is an African American was stunned by his comment, but before he replied he needed to disarm the South African. He quickly grabbed the South African’s wrist and slammed his hand down on the table causing the knife to fall on the floor. With his other hand, he grabbed the South African’s head and pounded it on the table. The man was now totally disoriented. Storm commented, “First of all I’m not your boy. Secondly, you call me that again and I’ll kick your ass from here to the Mississippi River.” Just as Storm finished speaking a man on the other side of the table stood up. He was a towering six feet seven inches tall and weighed over three hundred and fifty pounds. He was Dirk Lynch, the right hand man of his employer Kruger Van Eck. Storm looked almost straight up and without pausing backed away from the giant.

  Lynch yelled, “Boss, do you want me to break this man in half?”

  Van Eck replied, “Sit down, Lynch. It’s all a misunderstanding. Let the man pass.” Lynch sat down. Storm knew he was outnumbered and felt there was no point in continuing with this altercation any longer. He elected to continue towards the men’s room. On his way to the men’s room Storm shot a couple of quick pictures of Van Eck and his group.

  The City of the Dead

  Storm walked past the men’s room directly to the back door of the bar that led into the alley. He flipped open his cell phone and called the local New Orleans FBI office. Special agent Rogers answered the phone.

  Storm spoke in a low voice saying, “Rogers, this is Storm. I need you and Tucker to meet me down on Bourbon Street to tail four suspects.”

  Rogers replied, “I’ll get Tucker, and we’ll be on our way in a couple of minutes. By the way, who are these guys?”

  Storm replied, “I’m not sure, but I think they’re involved in some type of international smuggling. Oh, I also sent a couple of pictures of these guys through my cell phone. Get copies for yourselves and see if anyone can ID them on the Interpol network.”

  Rogers added, “Will do. Where the hell are you at?”

  Storm replied, “I’m at The Hurricane Bar.”

  Rogers continued saying, “Got it, on our way.” He snapped his cell phone closed and went to get Tucker.

  Storm went back into the bar to keep an eye on the South Africans. To his surprise, as he walked back to his booth, they were gone. He quickly looked out the front window, but the crowd was still so thick that there was no way to see them. Not even the giant was in sight. Storm turned to the barkeep and said, “Jackson, where in the hell did those guys go that were sitting in the booth next to me?”

  Jackson replied, “Don’t know, Storm. They paid their bill and left.”

  Storm turned and ran out the door. No sooner had he got twenty yards out than he ran into Rogers and Tucker. Storm looked at the two agents and said, “Hell, they got away while I was talking to you.”

  Tucker asked, “Any idea where they went?”

  Mad at himself, Storm said, “Not a clue where they went from here, but tomorrow night they’re going to one of the Cities of the Dead.”

  Rogers added, “That’s great; it could be one of ten cemeteries in the city. We don’t have the man power to stake them all out.”

  Storm thought for a minute and said, “Wait a minute! We’ve got all day tomorrow to figure that out. They won’t be going there until after dark tomorrow night.”

  Tucker laughed and said, “So what, we still don’t have anything to go on.”

  Storm smiled and replied, “Oh yes, we do! Tomorrow you two are going to find out where Koos de Klerk is interred. He died in nineteen sixty one. ”

  The three called it a night and agreed to meet in the morning at headquarters.

  The next day the trio was having zero luck finding the grave site of de Klerk. It was now late afternoon and time was running out. Tucker finally said, “We’ve been through every cemetery in the city. Do you think some of the records were destroyed when Hurricane Katrina hit?”

  Storm replied, “I don’t think so.”

  Rogers added, “We’ve looked almost everywhere.” With a puzzled look on his face, Storm said, “What in blue blazes do you mean almost everywhere?”

  Rogers replied, “Well, we haven’t looked at the records in St. Roch’s Cemetery.”

  Storm snapped back, “And why the hell not?”

  Rogers a bit nervous said, “It’s almost one hundred fifty years old. I bet they haven’t buried anyone there for years.”

  Storm added, “Just go with me on this one, and check it out. I’ll go see if we’ve received anything back from Interpol on these thugs.”

  Storm walk
ed into the adjoining office while Rogers and Tucker started scanning the death records for St. Roch’s. About an hour later Tucker yelled out, “Storm! Get your butt in here. We found de Klerk.”

  Storm walked back into the room and said, “It’s about time. Is he in St. Roch’s?”

  Rogers replied, “You got that right. He’s buried in section 48 in the south east corner of the cemetery.”

  Storm added, “OK guys, it’s stakeout time. Let’s go see what the South Africans thugs are up to.” The three agents made their way across the city during rush hour arriving at St. Roch’s just after dusk. Even though the agents knew the general area where de Klerk’s tomb was, it was almost impossible to find it in the dark among the acres of tombs, crypts and vaults. Tucker found de Klerk’s tomb first. He yelled out, “Guys, the tomb’s over here.” He blinked his flash light twice to show Storm and Rogers where he was. The three split up in three different directions, but each agent was no further than about twenty yards from de Klerk’s tomb. Because of the hundreds of vaults and tombs standing above the ground there was no way the agents were going to see the South Africans until they were almost at de Klerk’s tomb. Now all the agents could do was to wait and hopefully see the thugs before they were upon them.