The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2 Read online

  He rounded the island and turned towards the west. At the press of a couple buttons, the enormous carbon fiber sails, attached to the four masts, tacked westerly. The traditionalists among sailors would argue that his ship was a monster bred out of some ghastly land based engineer’s mind, with no resemblance to skilled sailing. To Luke, the Mirabelle was a monument of man’s ability to overcome any challenge through the achievement of science and dedicated engineering. A perfect balance of modern engineering and synergy with nature.

  The swell appeared unusually mild, and the now offshore winds were picking up their pace, gusting through to thirty knots. It would cause trouble to some of the smaller yachts in the fleet, but to the Mirabelle, was only just enough wind to motivate her massive hull to skip over the ocean ripples.

  It would be an easy twenty-four hour run.

  Like other millionaires, Luke was consumed with passion for everything he did, and his latest choice, would have far reaching consequences beyond financial wealth. The players were powerful, the stakes even higher, and the outcome would definitely change the world – but for good or for worse, he still hadn’t decided.

  Just over fifty miles out from the starting line, his mind was drawn back to the words Benjamin had said to him at the end of the meeting.

  Don’t take the Mirabelle out until you’ve made your decision known. They will sink you and we both know how they’ll do it, too – the threat was fanciful at best.

  Luke thought about the words again and how ludicrous the threat was. The Mirabelle and all other vessels in his near vicinity were being tracked by GPS – no one, bar a submarine could reach him. Lastly, the threat that had been made was not yet possible – despite their current research into it.

  That night he slept peacefully for the first sleep rotation starting at 11 pm while one of the crew took the helm. The Mirabelle sailed through the open ocean at speed. He rested better than he had for many years. The stress finally relinquished from his mind.

  At three a.m. the skipper knocked on the door of his private cabin. It was the confident knock of a man who knew he had a duty to perform and concern for waking up his master was of little consequence.

  “Good morning, Brian.” As Luke spoke, he was already pulling his safety harness over his shoulders. “I will be up in a minute.”

  “Very good sir. Coffee will be waiting for you on the bridge.”

  Despite owning the yacht and paying for a professional crew, Luke always insisted that he took his natural turn on the rotating roster of watches; otherwise, for him, the entire purpose of sailing would have been perverted.

  He climbed the stairs towards the bridge with resolute movements.

  “Anything to report, Brian?” he asked.

  “No, we’ve had a good sail this watch. Our winds have behaved kindly at twenty knots with the occasional gust up to thirty. They’ve been maintaining their easterly direction. Mirabelle is performing at her natural efficiency, and we are comfortably maintaining a speed of eighty percent of her hull displacement.”

  “Very good.” Luke had heard this type of report many times already this trip. “How about you, James?”

  “Nothing of significance to report, sir, but you might be interested to note the phosphorescence seems to be out in full tonight. It’s quite beautiful.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it. I shall enjoy that.” Since the first time his father had taken him out sailing when he was a young boy, Luke had been mesmerized by the star like glow that the microscopic creatures would emit as they react with the mechanical motion of the waves and the bow of the yacht. “Very good, gentlemen. You’re both dismissed.”

  Luke sipped his warm coffee as he walked around the deck assessing the sails. The moon was absent, but the myriad of stars reflected enough light on the almost still water to see the sails clearly without a flashlight.

  Ordinarily, he would connect to a lifeline while on a night watch. Tonight, the calm waters left him with a sense of safety on the large vessel and despite having done so a thousand times before, he failed to clip into the life-line that ran the length of the yacht.

  He walked around the deck, methodically checking that everything was in order. Pleased to discover it was and that he had not wasted the exorbitant money he spent on the crew, Luke decided to walk directly to the foredeck.

  There he stood, watching the surreal blend of starlight and phosphorescence. He had never seen a more magical night, and Luke took it as a sign from God that his decision had been justified as it was necessary. Although, the Almighty alone, may be the only one to realize it within his lifetime.

  For the first time in years, he’d accepted this with equanimity.

  Ahead of the Mirabelle, Luke noticed the phosphorescence increased in luminosity. Slowly at first and then a little more rapidly. It moved away from the yacht as though something pulled at it. Against all common sense and alone on the watch, Luke decided to climb the eighteen-foot bowsprit to get a better view of the strange and beautiful phenomenon.

  His intuition wasn’t awakened as it should have been.

  Instead, something intrinsically deeper was stirred by its magic. He should have alerted the crew; he should have checked to see how much the autopilot had to correct its steering against the strange current.

  If nothing else, he should have had a glimpse at the radar. If he had, he might have received warning about what was heading his way and the outcome may have been very different.

  As it was, Luke was caught up in the beautiful event.

  It wasn’t until the fast flowing glow along the surface of the ocean turned into a green glowing froth that he realized the breadth of his mistake.

  Ahead of him, approaching at a tantalizingly slow pace was a wall of green. It appeared more like a waterfall.

  My God, I can’t believe they managed to build it!

  His first thought was only of the science behind the achievement. Then he understood the danger. Luke ran as fast as possible towards the safe house – a clear dome shaped room designed as a place of last resort during large seas. He ran as fast as he could, thankful today of all days that he hadn’t clipped into the safety line.

  He reached it just in time. He spun the lock on the hatch until it became airtight. The room was supposed to be nearly bombproof. Luke had barely enough time to look back and see the apparition as it flowed towards them.

  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.
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  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?”
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  “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.”