Death Diamonds of Bermudez Read online

  After waiting for over an hour Storm was getting bored. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, flipped it open and made a call. The phone rang five times on the other end. Storm was just about to end the call when he heard a voice on the other end, “Who the bloody hell is calling me at this hour of the night?”

  Storm laughed very quietly and said, “Savage, you old sea dog, how you doing?”

  Still in a daze, Savage said, “Storm, if this is you I’m going to make shark bait out of your hide for waking me up.”

  Storm replied back, “Calm down, Savage. I’m on a stakeout in one of the Cities of the Dead.”

  Savage interrupted saying, “What the hell is the Cities of the Dead?”

  Storm grinned and said, “It’s a cemetery, old buddy. We’re here staking out a tomb of an old Boer prisoner of war from Bermuda.”

  Now curious Savage replied, “Mate, have you gone nuts? I hope your suspect doesn’t get away.”

  Before Savage could say anything else Storm said, “Have to go. I hear something.” The next thing Savage heard was a click in his ear.

  Savage yelled out even though he knew Storm had already hung up, “Thanks for the wakeup call, mate.” He slammed the phone down and went back to sleep.

  Storm and his fellow agents could all hear something or someone, but none of them were sure from what direction they were approaching.

  Being old paramilitary officers, Van Eck and his thugs could smell out an ambush a mile away. Unfortunately, the FBI agents had drastically underestimated the South Africans. This was not going to be a good night for Storm and his men. As Van Eck and his men drew near he hand signaled two of his men to circle in opposite directions around the tomb. One of the thugs saw Rogers hiding behind a large vault watching de Klerk’s tomb. He crept up on top of the vault from the other side. This was the man that Storm had disarmed in the bar. He quietly pulled out his knife and like a leopard leaped down landing on Rogers back. Within a second he had slit Roger’s throat and gently laid his lifeless body on the ground. The South African moved on towards the tomb in stealth mode.

  Lynch moved away from Van Eck in the direction of Tucker. Out of the corner of his eye, Tucker saw this monstrous object coming towards him. He pulled out his side arm and tried to move diagonally towards the object. Tucker was so engrossed in watching Lynch’s dark figure that he tripped over a raised stone walkway. Tucker fell causing his weapon to fire off a round into the air. Storm jumped up to look in the direction of the shot only to find himself looking straight into the barrel of a gun. Storm spun his right leg around catching the South African off guard striking him with a severe hit to his forehead with his foot. The South African hit the ground like a bag of potatoes.

  Meanwhile Tucker was just about to stand up when Lynch reached down and grabbed him with both hands raising him over his head.

  Tucker yelled out, “You baboon, put me down.”

  Lynch replied, “If that’s what you want.” When he threw Tucker down with tremendous force on top of a tomb stone you could hear Tucker’s back breaking. Tucker’s broken lifeless body draped over the center of a tomb stone. Lynch stood there and stared at Tucker with a big smile on his face.

  As Storm looked around, he was almost hit by gun fire. Storm dropped behind a tomb and began returning fire in the direction from where the shots came. Between shots Storm managed to call the New Orleans police department for backup. While the gun battle between Storm and one of the South Africans raged on, Van Eck and Lynch made a beeline towards de Klerk’s tomb. Once there Van Eck looked at Lynch and said, “How in the hell are we going to get into this tomb? It’s solid concrete.”

  Lynch looked at Van Eck and said, “Not a problem, boss.” He raised his arms over his head locking his hands together like a huge mallet. Lynch yelled out at the top of his lungs a blood curling scream and swung his arms down at the tomb. The blow was so severe the top of the tomb crumbled into thousands of pieces. Van Eck reached into the tomb and removed the military jacket from the body of de Klerk. As quickly as the fighting started, all went quiet.

  Storm could now hear the police sirens, but nothing else. He stood up with his pistol pointed in the direction of de Klerk’s tomb, but it was apparent he was alone. The South African he had cold cocked was gone. He made another grim discovery that both his fellow agents, Rogers and Tucker were dead. The police were now on the scene and blanketing the cemetery for Van Eck and his thugs. Storm with his head hung low went over to de Klerk’s tomb and looked in. He could quickly tell that the military jacket had been removed from de Klerk’s body. He knew that if the map really was in one of the jacket pockets then the South Africans were now in possession of it. This indeed was a bad night for Storm and the New Orleans FBI. His fellow agents were also his friend, and they would be missed. Storm left the scene and went back to headquarters to try to put together the pieces of the crime puzzle.

  The Boer War

  The next morning, still upset and extremely frustrated, Storm decided to give his old friend another call. This time he called him at the St. George’s branch of the Bermuda Police Department. Savage answered, “Inspector Savage.”

  Storm replied, “Sorry, my friend, for the early morning wake up call.”

  Savage snapped back, “Well, did you apprehend your dead man?”

  Storm answered in a soft tone, “No, not really. In fact I lost two of my fellow agents last night.”

  Savage added, “I’m sorry, mate. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Storm replied back, “Thanks, man. Yes, there is something you can do.”

  Savage replied, “What is it?”

  Storm asked, “I never understood why you have a Boer Prisoner of War Cemetery in Bermuda. Wasn’t that war fought in South Africa? So how did they end up in Bermuda?”

  Savage was surprised at Storm’s question, but he vaguely remembered Storm commenting on a Boer prisoner of war on the phone last night. Being a history buff, Savage went on to tell Storm the Boer history. “The Boers were of Dutch ancestry. Thousands of them migrated from their native homeland to South Africa. They acquired vast regions of farm land. Just like in America the battle over control of land was ongoing. The mighty Zulu nation would fight to the death over their land. At times the Boers joined forces with the British to fight the Zulu’s. But over the years, the Boers fought two wars with the British. The Boers were expert marksmen and understood the terrain much better than the British. When it was all said and done the Boers were just overwhelmed and out-gunned by the British.

  Back in June 1901 forty-six hundred Boer War prisoners were detained in Bermuda prisons. They were subjected to hard labour under very poor health conditions. The ones who died in Bermuda were buried on Long Island in the Great Sound.” After a brief pause Savage asked, “So what’s this all about?”

  Storm replied, “I’m really not sure, but what started out as a stakeout is now a full blown murder investigation. The South Africans were looking for a hundred year old map that an ex-prisoner of war from the Boer War took to the grave with him. As far as I know, I’m pretty sure they got what they were looking for.”

  Savage asked, “So what now? Are you still tracking the South Africans?”

  Storm allowed his emotions to seep through into the conversation, “Hell, no. Those bastards made a clean getaway! Savage, my fellow agents were well trained, and these South Africans made us look like amateurs. These guys were invincible. We never stood a chance.”

  Savage added, “Well, if the bloody Boers have the map then they must be looking for what’s at the end of it. Any idea where you think the map originates?”

  Storm added, “After talking to you, yes, I believe I do.”

  Savage asked, “Then where?”

  Storm replied, “Buddy boy, I’ll bet a million dollars it’s in your back yard.”

  Savage snapped back, “Crap, that’s all I need now--- some bloody paramilitary murderers trekking about Bermuda. The Commissioner will eat m
e alive. So if that’s the case when do you think those bloody bastards will show up?”

  Storm answered, “Well my friend, I’m guessing they’re on their way now or will be shortly.”

  Savage replied, “Alright then. For the next week I’ll volunteer for airport duty. No one else will mind: it’s typically a boring beat. I’ll keep you posted. ”

  Storm added, “Like hell you will! I’ll be seeing you in the next forty-eight hours, as soon as I can get clearance.”

  Savage laughed and said, “Oh lord, here we go again.” Both men said their goodbyes and hung up.

  Unexpected Visitors

  That night Samantha Savage and Michael Clark were on their scooters following the taxi that was taking Michael’s grandmother to the airport. Samantha, better known as Sam, was Inspector Savage’s daughter. Michael was one of her best friends and a member of the group she belongs to called “The Spinners”.

  Michael’s grandmother was flying out that night on the British Airways flight to the UK to visit her sister.

  It didn’t take long for Michael to say goodbye to his grandmother. After she entered the terminal waiting area and could no longer be seen, Sam and Michael walked outside. They were just hanging around waiting to watch the large jet take off in the night sky. Both Spinners were sitting on their scooters and playing with their portable video games. They were only about twenty feet from the taxi pickup area for arriving passengers and within ten feet of an old red British telephone booth. Passengers that had arrived on an American flight were now leaving the airport terminal and looking for transportation. Michael spotted a small group of oddly dressed men leaving the airport.

  Michael nudged Sam and whispered, “Aren’t those dudes dressed funny? It looks like they’re going on a safari.”

  Sam scratched her head for a few seconds trying to get the old thought processes going. Then it hit her like a ton of brick. She jumped up off her scooter, but before she could blurt out her thoughts, Michael grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her down. Michael whispered, “Are you going to tell everyone in the airport what you’re thinking?”

  Sam, a little less excited, whispered back, “Look at the clothing these guys are wearing. Does it remind you of something we saw the other day at the library?”

  Michael responded, “No! I can’t think of anything we saw at the library.”

  A little annoyed Sam replied, “Those aren’t safari outfits! They’re modern day versions of Boer military uniforms!” Michael just about fell off his scooter when he heard what Sam had said. Before Michael could reply, one of the men walked in front of the two Spinners and stepped into the phone booth. He dialed a number and the party on the other end of the line answered so quickly the man didn’t get a chance to close the phone booth door.

  The mystery man replied to whoever was on the other end of the call, “Yes, this is Kruger Van Eck. Did you get our cottage on Long Island?” Before the Spinners could hear anything else, Van Eck managed to close the door. The two could now no longer hear anything that was being said.

  The two looked at each other slightly bewildered. They both started stepping backwards towards their scooters intuitively sensing it was time to be going. Suddenly, someone grabbed both of them by their shirt collars and yelled out, “What the bloody hell are you two punks looking at?”

  Michael and Sam both turned their heads around and looked up almost at a ninety degree angle. The man gripping them by their collars was huge. He was a giant. He was over six feet seven inches tall and looked enormously threatening. It was Dirk Lynch. Sam was flinging her arms around, but getting nothing but air. Michael yelled out, “Let us go, you big oaf, before I get mad!”

  Savage being the police officer on duty at the airport saw the situation and walked over to the giant asking, “What’s the problem here, mate?”

  Lynch let go of Sam and Michael, but before he could respond Van Eck stepped out of the phone booth saying, “My apologies, officer. My mate thought these kids were trying to steal our luggage.”

  Michael straightening out his shirt snapped back, “Inspector Savage, you know that’s a lie.” The Inspector knew Van Eck was lying. After all, he trusted his daughter and Michael without question. However, Savage did not think it was wise to reveal the fact that one of these youths was his daughter.

  Inspector Savage nodded in agreement and said, “You two move on along. Get on your scooters and go home.” He turned to Lynch and said, “You better watch your step, or your stay in Bermuda will be a short one.”

  Lynch’s face went beet red. No one but Van Eck ever told him what to do. With no warning he threw a round house right swing at Savage with his massive fist, but to no avail. He missed Savage by a mile. Savage’s pre-police boxing reflexes had kicked in and had saved him from a crushing blow to the head. Savage reacted with a pounding left hook into Lynch’s belly. Lynch bent over, and Savage let him have it in the jaw with a vicious right uppercut. Lynch staggered backwards. Savage expected him to collapse, but instead he shook off the blow like it was nothing and moved back in the direction of Savage. Savage pulled out his night stick pointing it at Lynch and bracing himself for the worst, but Van Eck stepped between the two and signaled Lynch to back off. Lynch did as he was commanded. Savage was surprised at the toughness of Lynch. No one had ever withstood a right uppercut like that from him. Savage turned and flipped out his handcuffs thinking of arresting the unruly tourist, but he changed his mind and walked away. Before he walked back into the airport he stopped and gave the South Africans one more glancing look and said, “You’re all very lucky I didn’t arrest you.” He turned and disappeared into the airport. Van Eck and his associates ignored Savage and hailed a taxi.

  Meanwhile Sam and Michael were on their way back to St. George’s both wondering what these South Africans were up too. Savage also was left wondering. He knew he had just had a run in with the South Africans that Storm had told him about. The South Africans had already left in their taxi, but Savage knew he would be able to find out where they were dropped off. The taxi driver was a good mate of Savage’s.

  The next day the Spinners met at their favorite spot, the dunking stool in St. George’s King’s Square. The Spinners were a close knit group of high school kids who did everything together from attending school to socializing. They were best friends, and there’s nothing they would not do for one other. Michael Clark was an American who lived with his grandmother in St. George’s. He was six foot one inch tall with jet-black hair and very slender. His weight of one hundred fifty pounds had not kept up with his height. He played guard on the school basketball team. Michael missed American football, and he knew he did not have the frame for rugby. School in Bermuda was much more demanding than he had been used to in Boston. Thank goodness Sam was there to help him out. Michael was also very fond of Sam.

  Samantha (Sam) Savage was a beautiful and brilliant young girl. Only 15 years old she was considered the “brains” of the group. Her father was Inspector Ian Savage, the local police Inspector for the St. George’s Branch of the Bermuda Police Service.

  Keno was a giant for his age of sixteen. With his massive frame of six feet four inches and a weight that tipped the scales at over two hundred twenty pounds, he appeared to be much older than he was. For a big boy, he was agile and could play any sport. The studies came hard for him, but his Spinner friends were there to help. Keno had a close bond with his father. They both loved electronic communications. Girls were the last things on Keno’s mind. His friends, his scooter, and electronic communications came first.