He pushed his cup of tea towards the center of the table, reaching into his back pocket, taking out his wallet. He placed the cost of his cup of tea on the left side of the cup, and the tip of the right. He stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, slipping it on. Before heading out, he straightened his bow tie out and decided to have a nice stroll on the beach as they day was perfect for it. But as he strolled down the road with the beach in sight, he noticed that the beach was closed. Anybody trying to get in was kicked out right away by men in uniform, armed with guns.
This is odd. How did I not notice this earlier?
Not too long ago, this man crashed not far from the Gold Coast in Florida when he lost control of his time machine which he calls a TARDIS, causing it to crash land him here. But as he said, he didn't notice the closure. Perhaps his mind was too occupied with his machine to notice. Whatever it was, he needed to check out what this whole ordeal was about.
Stepping onto the sand leading to the beach's waters, he lifted the yellow tape and made his way forward. Immediately, he saw a group of four soldiers rushing in his direction with a man in black suit idly walking behind them. He stopped in his tracks with his hands up as the soldiers approached him. The soldiers ordered the man before them to turn and leave the beach as it was under investigation. Making a gesture at them, the man slowly reached into his coat pocket, taking out a bi-fold wallet, extending it towards the soldiers. Breaking the formation of the soldiers, two on each side, the man in black stepped in, snatching the wallet away from the strange man’s hand. The man in black took one look at the card inside the wallet, then a look at the person in front of him and gave the OK to let him through. The card inside was blank. Blank to the owner of it, but to the person seeing it, it had the credentials that allowed him to progress further into the beach, allowing him access to what was going on. It made the man in black believe that he was a top private investigator hired by US Government to aid in this ordeal. He asked simply to be called Mr. Millar. The man in black is the Deputy Director of the CIA.
As they walked towards the waters, the Director was filling Mr. Millar in on the incident. A group of F-22’s were escorting a C-130 Hercules after the military found an item of interest which they were to transport to a military base for testing. The odd thing about this was that they weren’t supposed to go anywhere near the waters. Communication between them and the ground crew was spotty, but they completely lost visual of the crafts when they ventured in to what’s known as the Bermuda Triangle. Again, they weren’t supposed to fly anywhere near there, they just did. Now the planes, the pilots and the find has been lost at sea.
There were a good number of other what seemed to be fellow investigators on the scene, but over the horizon, there didn’t seem to be any boats in the water. Nor were there any men dressed in wetsuits. The Deputy Director then told Mr. Millar that nobody as of yet dared travel to find the lost crew. Mr. Millar found this amusing as he was sure that many people here, including the Deputy Director thought that the legends of this place was just superstition. But here they were, not even stepping foot in the water.
A smile broke across Mr. Millar’s face, and he raised his hand up like a schoolboy in class, even waiving it frantically from side to side. The Director looked at Mr. Millar with a stern look, putting his hand down for him, advising him of the great risks there were travelling to such a place. Still filled with curiosity, Mr. Millar told the Director that the danger was the fun of it. Mr. Millar would not be convinced not to go. Afterall, someone needed to go and check out the last known area of the crafts. And if Mr. Millar was volunteering to check it out, then who else would they send? He certainly had the credentials, and the urge to go. So why not?
The Director told Mr. Millar that raft was to be assigned to Mr. Millar relatively soon which would take them out into the sea. For now, Mr. Millar would have to anxiously wait til everything was set up.
This is odd. How did I not notice this earlier?
Not too long ago, this man crashed not far from the Gold Coast in Florida when he lost control of his time machine which he calls a TARDIS, causing it to crash land him here. But as he said, he didn't notice the closure. Perhaps his mind was too occupied with his machine to notice. Whatever it was, he needed to check out what this whole ordeal was about.
Stepping onto the sand leading to the beach's waters, he lifted the yellow tape and made his way forward. Immediately, he saw a group of four soldiers rushing in his direction with a man in black suit idly walking behind them. He stopped in his tracks with his hands up as the soldiers approached him. The soldiers ordered the man before them to turn and leave the beach as it was under investigation. Making a gesture at them, the man slowly reached into his coat pocket, taking out a bi-fold wallet, extending it towards the soldiers. Breaking the formation of the soldiers, two on each side, the man in black stepped in, snatching the wallet away from the strange man’s hand. The man in black took one look at the card inside the wallet, then a look at the person in front of him and gave the OK to let him through. The card inside was blank. Blank to the owner of it, but to the person seeing it, it had the credentials that allowed him to progress further into the beach, allowing him access to what was going on. It made the man in black believe that he was a top private investigator hired by US Government to aid in this ordeal. He asked simply to be called Mr. Millar. The man in black is the Deputy Director of the CIA.
As they walked towards the waters, the Director was filling Mr. Millar in on the incident. A group of F-22’s were escorting a C-130 Hercules after the military found an item of interest which they were to transport to a military base for testing. The odd thing about this was that they weren’t supposed to go anywhere near the waters. Communication between them and the ground crew was spotty, but they completely lost visual of the crafts when they ventured in to what’s known as the Bermuda Triangle. Again, they weren’t supposed to fly anywhere near there, they just did. Now the planes, the pilots and the find has been lost at sea.
There were a good number of other what seemed to be fellow investigators on the scene, but over the horizon, there didn’t seem to be any boats in the water. Nor were there any men dressed in wetsuits. The Deputy Director then told Mr. Millar that nobody as of yet dared travel to find the lost crew. Mr. Millar found this amusing as he was sure that many people here, including the Deputy Director thought that the legends of this place was just superstition. But here they were, not even stepping foot in the water.
A smile broke across Mr. Millar’s face, and he raised his hand up like a schoolboy in class, even waiving it frantically from side to side. The Director looked at Mr. Millar with a stern look, putting his hand down for him, advising him of the great risks there were travelling to such a place. Still filled with curiosity, Mr. Millar told the Director that the danger was the fun of it. Mr. Millar would not be convinced not to go. Afterall, someone needed to go and check out the last known area of the crafts. And if Mr. Millar was volunteering to check it out, then who else would they send? He certainly had the credentials, and the urge to go. So why not?
The Director told Mr. Millar that raft was to be assigned to Mr. Millar relatively soon which would take them out into the sea. For now, Mr. Millar would have to anxiously wait til everything was set up.