Rogue Wave Read online

He cursed his selfishness for not warning his crew. But for what purpose should he have? It would have only allowed them to wake long enough to know they were about to die.

  A second later the green glow reached the Mirabelle’s bow.

  Luke stood proud. The reflection of the rich green glow in his eyes sparkling like stars. Taking one last look at the bewitching apparition as it greeted him. He heard the destruction of every inch of the ship as the wall of water raced towards him.

  Then everything went dark and silent as his world disappeared.

  Chapter One

  Colorado, Present Day

  Benjamin White drove along the I-70 through the Great Plains, heading west towards the Rocky Mountains. It was approaching time for breakfast. He’d driven through the night trying to catch up with Sam Reilly, but it appeared the man had gone to some lengths to avoid being found. He laughed as he remembered his discussion with the man’s friend, Tom Bower. I wonder if he’s sent me on a wild goose chase. He was going to be in royal trouble if he couldn’t find the man. He looked down at his cell phone, no more than his peripheral vision on the road as he fumbled through the long list of contacts. Benjamin stopped when he found Tom Bower’s number and pressed connect.

  A car next to him honked at him. He dropped his phone. Fumbling, he managed to pick it up off the floor next to the accelerator. The light was on. And the call connected.

  “Mr. Bower. Are you there?” He put his hand back on the steering wheel.

  “Speaking. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Benjamin White again.”

  A long pause.

  Tom either couldn’t remember him or wasn’t interested.

  “We spoke yesterday. About Sam Reilly.”

  “Oh, right. The life insurance broker!” Tom laughed. “Did you catch up with him?”

  “No, I haven’t yet. Are you certain he’s out here? It really is very important that I find him. Perhaps he’s pulled off the I-70 somewhere earlier?”

  “I don’t think so. I know he was keen to head to the Rocky Mountains. If I know Sam, he’ll make a quick drive of it and make the most out of his time there for the weekend. Keep going, stop infrequently and you’ll find him.”

  “You don’t think I’ve missed him? I don’t even know what car he’s driving.”

  “Neither do I, but I can tell you this. He spends so much time at sea he doesn’t even own a car.”

  Benjamin swore under his breath. “Then what’s he driving, a rental?”

  “No way. Not his style. He would have picked up one of his father’s cars. You’ll be able to recognize it.”

  “What does his father drive?”

  “No idea. He owns a lot of cars. All of them with price tags you and I could never afford.”

  “So I’m looking for a BMW?”

  “No, I could afford that – only just. James Reilly, Sam’s father is more likely to own a supercar. Only he probably wouldn’t bother with a production supercar like a Lamborghini. He would go for a hand crafted, one of a kind, special edition. Trust me. If you see it, you’ll know.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He hung up and added more speed until he was doing nearly thirty miles over the speed limit. He could afford a speeding ticket. If he didn’t find Sam before they did, things were going to be a lot worse for everyone.

  By lunch time he’d been on the road for nearly sixteen hours. Stopping for gas only. His nervousness was taking its toll. He would grab a quick bite to eat and then hit the road again. He drove into the parking lot of the little diner. A bright green neon light flashed, Welcome to Sweet Basil – Open 24/7!

  Parked out the front was a current model Rolls Royce Phantom.

  He shook his head, relieved. There was no doubt about it, Sam Reilly had inherited his father’s love of style and expensive cars.

  Chapter Two

  Sam watched as the young waitress brought out their food. She was probably in her early twenties, blonde, and all in all showing probably a little too much cleavage for a family restaurant. She was polite and took their order. A tuna sandwich with cucumber and tomato for Aliana, a BLT for himself, and a large bowl of chips for them to share.

  The waitress dropped two large paper cups in front of him. “The soda fountains are over there.” She Smiled. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” he and Aliana replied in unison.

  She stared at him specifically, and flashed her long eyelashes at him. “You’re welcome.”

  Aliana laughed. “She must really want tips. She’s trying to flirt with you!”

  Sam picked up the two cups. “Never. Not in a million years would she be so bold when I’m having lunch with someone who looks like you.”

  He meant every word, too. Aliana was stunning. She was taller than the average American woman of generation by about 3 to 4 inches. She had light straw colored hair, blue eyes, and a devious smile. Lithe and athletic, her figure was perfectly shaped and well suited to an outdoor lifestyle. Her skin, radiant. She wore light almost fruity perfume that was absorbing, but not overpowering. She could have been a movie star. Never a model – her figure was too full of well-shaped, lithe, muscles built from years of climbing in the European Alps.

  Sam finished filling their cups with heavily infused sugary sodas for them both. He then sat back down and returned to his BLT. It was described as having bacon, lettuce and tomato, but was covered in melted cheese, avocado, spinach and egg.

  He looked at Aliana and smiled. “Good thing I stuck with ordering just the one.”

  She smiled back at him. “I told you your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you didn’t need to order two, didn’t I?”

  He opened his mouth and tried to figure out how he was going to eat the monstrous sandwich. Sam then flattened the entire BLT and shoved it in his mouth.

  It tasted great.

  A set of tin cans rattled as a stranger entered in a hurry through the main glass doors. Sam wouldn’t have paid any attention except the man nearly fell over in the process because he was that rushed. It was enough to make Sam casually examine him.

  The man wore a suit, was moderately overweight and appeared to be in his mid to late forties. The man stopped, straightened his tie, and searched the diner. Sam raised the corner of his eyebrow as he examined the man. There was something about him. He looked like a disheveled professional. The kind of person who’d just discovered he had been made bankrupt through another person’s corruption and was now willing to kill someone or rob a bank or even a diner for that matter, just to get it back.

  Sam instinctively reached for a weapon – the nearest being an iron stoker for the unlit fire next to them. His fingers gripped the hilt, and he felt instantly safer.

  Aliana looked at him. “Everything all right?”

  “Not sure. There’s a man at your seven O’clock. Something’s not right with him. Maybe he’s just crazy. I don’t know.”

  Aliana turned her head to see.

  The man’s face was sweaty, and his hands shook, as though he were nervous and about to snap. The man’s eyes became fixed on his own. A predator identifying another predator. Sam braced himself for the fight.

  The stranger then approached via a straight line. His bloodshot eyes fixated and intense. “Are you Sam Reilly?”

  “Yes,” Sam replied. His right hand gripping the hilt of the iron stoker under the table. “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I’ve come a long way to find you.”

  Chapter Three

  The man held out his hand. His voice was coarse. Probably a lifetime of smoking. “My name’s Benjamin White. I’m a Life Insurance broker, trying to get some background information that I’m hoping your expertise might be able to provide. Is there somewhere we can talk, it’s kind of important?”

  Sam relaxed and said, “Sure, pull up a chair. What’s this about?”

  “Does the name New World Energies mean anything to you?”

  “Not much. I think they’re working on alternative energy sources
which are non-reliant on fossil fuels. Why?”

  “What about the name Luke Eldridge?”

  “Luke?” Sam smiled with sheer pleasure. “Of course, he and I went to high school together and raced on the same sailing team. He was older than me at school, but we still enjoyed sailing together – he and his old man were both exceptional skippers. Last I heard, he’d hit it big time with some tech start up – what’s the name of it?”

  “New World Energies.”

  “You don’t say. One of the smartest men I’ve ever met – how’s he doing?”

  “He’s dead.”

  Sam stared at Benjamin White, stunned at the news. “Wow. What happened?”

  “Do you know much about New World Energies?”

  “Not a lot. They’re involved in newer forms of energy – hydrogen fuels, solar, hydroelectric, ocean generated power through waves. From what I hear the company was set to do some pretty good things, amazing things.”

  Benjamin shook his head. “Yeah, well… at the time of his death his company registered a value on the NASDAQ of 4 billion dollars – of it, he maintained 85% of the shares.” The man waited long enough for his words to sink in. “You don’t make that sort of money without pissing someone off along the way.”

  “He was rich?”

  “Only on paper. In reality, he personally owed a lot of money. He would have had trouble offloading all his shares for anywhere near that price. And from what I’m told, he was getting desperate to secure funding to pay off some of his personal research loans.”

  “So, you’re saying someone killed him?”

  “Yes – but it wasn’t for his money.”

  “What makes you say that? Everything’s about money at some time or another. Besides, he had life insurance, maybe whoever he left his payout to can help explain what he needed it for.”

  Benjamin smiled. “No. I doubt that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was his Life Insurance broker. And he had clear instructions for any payout upon his death to go towards paying off any of his bills, and then be given to the state for further research into alternative energies. The man clearly was committed to his purpose.”

  Sam shook his head. “I guess so. Do you have any other ideas why someone would want him dead?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Benjamin waited for Sam’s response. When he got none, he continued. “It was something he’d discovered – an energy source called Elixir Eight.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Of course you haven’t – it was never made known to the public. Days before Luke was killed, the board met to discuss an anonymous offer to squash the project in exchange for a massive cash offer.”

  “Do we know who the private investor was?”

  “No,” he squirmed in his chair.

  “And do you have an idea who murdered him?”

  “Not a clue. That’s where you come into it.”

  Sam swallowed the last of his drink and put his cup down. “Me, what the heck can I do to help?”

  “I was hoping you might be able to tell me. Luke sent a single text message to me just before he left Bermuda to sail a charity regatta.”

  “What was the message?’

  “It said, In the event of my death tonight contact Sam Reilly. Only he can prove it was murder.”

  “Murder? How did he die?”

  “He was competing in the Bermuda to Florida Keys race and it appears his yacht was struck by a massive wave, which broached his yacht, the Mirabelle. From what I hear, the wave was so powerful that the entire thing snapped in two and sank to the bottom. Leaving no survivors.”

  Sam looked at the man perplexed. “A rogue wave? Many a competent sailor has died as the result of an unusually large wave. If it was anything big enough to damage the Mirabelle, the other racers in the event must have been affected?”

  “None of the other crew noted any unusually rough seas.”

  “Yet, Luke’s yacht was sunk?”

  “That’s it. Seems crazy doesn’t it?”

  “Sure does.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you on vacation. I know you wanted to stay away from everyone for a few days. I wonder if you would be willing to cut your time short – see if you can help me out.”

  Sam looked at Aliana for approval.

  She smiled sympathetically at him. “He was your friend. Even an old one, and he asked for your help.”

  “Yeah, but I have no idea why.”

  “No, there must have been something.”

  Benjamin said, “Tell me. What do you know about rogue waves?”

  Chapter Four

  Sam filled his cup from the soda fountain again. Walked back and took a seat.

  “Rogue waves really aren’t as mysterious as the movies would have you believe. In fact, they’re no more random than normal waves. And as such, can be predicted through the wave prediction analysis of a given sea.”

  Benjamin poured himself a cup of straight coffee. He stopped and looked at Sam as though he’d just informed him the world was no longer round. “Are you saying you can predict when a rogue wave is going to occur?”

  “No, but I can tell you the state of the ocean in which a rogue wave is likely to occur. Waves themselves are quite unpredictable. Evolving sea states can be predicted with relative accuracy by using wind wave models.”

  “So, in what sort of seas would you expect to find a rogue wave?”

  “Well, for that you have to understand some basic principles of wave development.”

  Aliana stood up. “I’ve heard this story before. I’m going to freshen up.”

  Benjamin looked at him. “Go on. I need to understand this.”

  “Okay. The size and behavior of waves are determined by a range of factors. These include, the direction of the swell compared with the speed of the tide, prevailing ocean currents, the depth of the water, the shape of the seafloor, the presence of reefs and sandbanks, even the temperature of the ocean.”

  “Okay,” Benjamin said.

  Sam sighed. Trying to judge how in depth he wanted to go. “There are five factors which influence the formation of wind waves. These are, wind speed relative to the wave crest, the uninterrupted distance of open water over which the wind blows without significant change in direction, this is called the fetch, the width of area affected by fetch, and the duration the wind has blown over a given time.”

  “I get it. There’s a lot of factors to measure in order to predict the height, length and force of a wave.”

  Sam nodded his head. “However, there is one factor that rules the size of the waves more than any other – the wind. Waves are caused by wind blowing over the surface of the ocean and transferring energy from the atmosphere to the water. The height of waves is determined by the speed of the wind, how long it blows, and crucially the fetch.

  Benjamin emptied his cup of coffee. “Go on.”

  Sam noted that Benjamin’s caffeine intake had done little to settle the tremor in his hands. He continued with the subject he’d always found so fascinating. “In oceanography, rogue waves are more precisely defined as waves whose height is more than twice the significant wave height, which is itself defined as the mean of the largest third of waves in a wave record. Therefore, rogue waves are not necessarily the biggest waves found on the water; they are, rather, unusually large waves for a given sea state. Rogue waves seem not to have a single distinct cause, but occur where physical factors such as high winds and strong currents cause waves to merge to create a single exceptionally large wave.”

  “Why do the waves come together at all?”

  “The underlying physics that make the phenomena of rogue waves possible is that different waves can travel at different speeds. This allows them to collide and compound with each other. This is known as constructive interference. Instead of a set of four or five waves, they all merge into one entirely more powerful one.”

  Benjamin cracked his finger knuckles. It looked like a
bad nervous habit. “Okay, so how big could these rogue waves get?”

  “They can be pretty big. The Draupner wave in the North Sea off the coast of Norway was measured by scientific equipment as being 84 feet in 1995. The same year the Fastnet Lighthouse in Ireland was struck by a wave. Although no scientific equipment recorded the precise height of the wave, the lighthouse itself was 156 feet above sea level.”

  Benjamin stared at him, mesmerized. “Are you saying anyone could have predicted a 156 feet high wave?”

  “You have to understand. Rogue waves aren’t about height. They’re about being twice the height of the significant wave height – AKA twice the average highest waves in a set. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration determined that the most frequent wave heights will be about half that of the significant wave height. And that around 1 out of every 7 will be slightly larger. But 1 out of every 3000, or roughly 3 times every 24 hours a wave will be twice the significant wave height.”

  “Are you telling me, if I sail overnight, statistically I’m going to be struck by 3 rogue waves?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. So, if the average wave heights are 10 feet, you might be struck by a 20-foot rogue wave.”

  “All right, so on the night Luke died, the significant wave height was just 4 feet. So, based on that theory, how in world could he have been struck by a 100-foot wave?”

  Sam grinned. He was genuinely surprised by the sudden disclosure. There was something else, too. He was excited by the prospect. “You’re telling me Luke was struck by a 100-foot wave, just off North Bimini Island?”

  “Yes, didn’t I mention that?”

  Sam looked at the bill. Unfolded two tens and a five and placed them on the table. “All right Mr. White. Now I’m fascinated. I’ll see what I can find and let you know.”

  Chapter Five

  Sam pushed the pedal of his Rolls Royce Phantom to the floor and its powerful 6.75 Liter V12 purred to life. Having just rounded another hairpin bend Sam was accelerating down the narrow straight, he picked up speed as he climbed the Vail Pass, headed towards the Continental Divide. Hundreds of miles from any ocean, his thoughts should have been far from oceanography.