MYSTERY OF THE PIRATE SHIP

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THE PIRATE SHIP Even as Mr. Brown welcomed us back to town, with compliments, for our avoiding publicity, in our last case, he would ask us to step into his office, "just for a moment". While issuing further compliments, for our work, Mr. Brown would say that he had doubted that anyone could have handled oour previous case, without looking like "laughing stocks". The clients were satisfied, enough, that they even paid the firm extra bonuses, for "a job well done". Now, Mr. Brown had a new, even more bizzarre, case, for us. When Mr. Brown showed Tami and I the case file, its coontents looked oddly familiar. Un-like the "Mystery of the Lighthouse", though, in this case, boats were not being crashed upn the shore line. The report said that the boats were vanishing, completely, and were presumed stolen. Each craft had, prior to its being lost, reported observing a pirate-type vessel, heading directly at them. Allegedly, just moments later, each boats GPS stopped transmitting, and no SO.S. signals were intercepted. As for the locations, from which the pirate ship was sighted from, these were not limited to the open water. As many as two dozen people, on land, reported seeing a similar ship, from the shore. The most impressive report, though, (And, it seems, the one report which caught Mr. Browns attention), was the report from a Coast Guard frigate. According to the frigates young commanding officer, his ship had spooted, and approached, the pirate ship, which had opened fire, once the frigate was within close range. When the frigate commander ordered his forward gunner to return fire, however, the commander insisted that his guns armour-piercing rounds had no effect, on the pirate ships hull. Even when the commander ordered the gun-turret to target the pirate ships water-line, hoping to deal it a death blow, and take prisoners, as the crew abandoned the sinking ship, the frigate commander found himself at a loss. Although both he, and his master gunner, insisted that the rounds penetrated the water, with large splashes, the pirate ship seemed un-faved, by the attacks. It didn't lose head-way, list, or begin to sink. According to the frigates report, after about 15 minutes of battle, a freakl wind blew in, filled the pirate ships sails, and the pirate ship sailed away, from the frigate, at such un-believe-able speed that, even with its turbines running in the "red", the frigate was left far behind the pirate ship, even as the frigates propellers pushed it ahead, at flank speed. According to the frigates bridge officers, another bit of baffling information, was that, even while the pirate ship was just ten yards distant, it had no reflection, on the radar screen. (Ofcourse, even thhe navy knew about radar absorbing materials, so this was no shock). What shocked both the frigates crew, and the navy, was how the frigates crew reported that, while giving chase, the entire crew agreed that they watched the pirate ship just dissolve, right before their eyes. Well, neither Tami nor I was all that interested in chasing a "ghost ship". We were fine with cases, on land. After alll, atleast on land, there were "avenues of escape". Not so much, on the water. Mr. Brown only secured our cooperation, bby telling Tami and I that the federal government was willing to finance the investigation. Ofcourse, our budget would not be "un-limited", but our expenses would be "taken care of". There would even be a boonus offered, if Tami and I could find an explanatioon, foor the existance of the pirate ship. When Tami and I agreed to accept thhe case, we were thankful to bbe fling business-class, again. Tami and I had, both, heard the horror stories, about travelling "coach"/etc. About the only surprise, of our flight, was the "reception", at the airport. Talk about "cold". We would have received a warmer reception, at the north pole. It only took us two days, on location, to realize that, un-like our previous cases, where atleast SOME locals were friendly, in this case, we found NO friendly faces. No hospitality. Thankfully, with such rapid re-deployment, there was no time, to un-pack bags, my bicycle, Tami's computer gear, or our suitcases. As a result, all of our stuff met us at the motel room. While Tami set up her "computer central", as we, jokingly, called it, I went on my daily rides, to scout the area, and get a feel for what might cause a pirate ship to show up. While I was out, riding, Tami would be busy, on the internet, and using the agencies influence, to access various computers. Un-fortunately, all that Tami had to report, to either me, or the agency, was what was found on the internet. Tami would tell me that, no matter how polite she could be, thhat alll of her requests, for information, from local sources, were being given the priority of trash removal. That night, when Tami and I went to dinner, at a local McDonalds, we discussed whether this case was worth attention. So far, only the Coast Guard had provided any iinformation, abbout the pirate ship. Locals would not even discuss the issue. Tami would tell me that, when she would ask people, about the subject, even just as conversation, she would bbe ejected from homes and offices. Others avoided her, even on the street, as if Tami was a carrier of AIDS, HIV, and the Black Plague, together. Just as we were on our way back, to our room, Tami and I heard fire department sirens, close by. We also smelled smoke We just hoped that whoever was affected, didn't lose everything. We found out who was affected, when we reached the motel, and found the fire department putting out the last of the flames. Tami was the first to notice thatt the blaze was confined to our room. After the fire was out, and the fire department withhdrew, I went in, to check our belongings, while Tami visited with people, in the adjoining rooms. Personaly, I was pretty sure that the other rooms were not damaged, since the walls, and ceiling, of our room, had only smoke residue on them. All of our clothes, toiletries, and equipment, had been burned to a crisp, in an amazingly concentrated fire. Tami confirmed my suspicions, when she returned to say that the bordering rooms were sound, and free of damage. As Tami and I sat back, surveyed the damage, and considered our next move, what shocked us was when a large, muscular, man came to what was left, of our room, and, in short form, told us "Mr. Brown sent my team, to collect both of you. Now, gather what you can, and follow us". We were about to question the man, until we saw his automatic, military style weapon. Add to that the way he carried the weapon, and Tami and I agreed that he was a professional soldier. With nothing left to salvage, Tami and I joined the un-named man, and his team, which guided us to a camoflauged vehicle, parked nearby. This is how we travelled to what I guessed passed for an airport. It certainly was not the municipal airport. In fact, it looked more like the former parking lost, of a derelict shopping center. The land was useless, yet it had a wide, weed-infested, flat, surface. It was here that Tami and I were put aboard what I was certain was an Air Force, surplus, troop plane. The plane looked old, and obsolete, from the exterior, but that was just for appearance sake. Once we were on-board, and the hatches were sealed, the interior became as quiet as a Catholic classroom. After Tami and I were secured, our "host" dialed a number, on a phone, then said "Yes, sir, we have them. They are safe. We are ienroute to you", then he gave an arrival tiime. When Tami tried to talk to the man, he, politely, said "Miss, my job is to deliver you, to Mr. Brown. those are my orders". After that, none, of the obviously commando types, of the team, said a single word to us, during the whole trip back to town. What I do know is that, when we landed, the plane taxied into a hangar, and this is where we were presented to Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown then lead the group into a small office shack, where he produced a package, of cash. A package abundant enough to see both Tami and I through ten retirements. This, he gave to our "hosts", who, then saluted, and departed, without a word. After the team had departed, Tami was first to ask Mr. BBrown "What was all that for?" Mr. Brown answered by saying "We receieved thisw about three hours ago", then handed Tami a very short print out, which was short, and concise: "Get your people OUT of our town, before midnight, or you will never see them, again" When I looked at the message, then asked Mr. Brown "Sir, is this serious?", Mr. Brown said "I must take such messages seriously. I have lost too many good people, iin the past, not to take such things seriously". When Tami asked "What do we do, now?", Mr. Brown smiled as he said "I am glad you asked that. Come, follow me" With that, we followed him out of the office, and walked across the hangar floor, towards an outdated, yet solidly uilt, and reliable "work-horse", of an Air Force cargo plane. As we approached the rear ramp, of the huge plane, we werew met by two, mature, gentlemen, whom Mr. Brown said were retired Air Force. "These two gentlemen have been flying these planes, for decades". As we entered thew olsolete plane, Mr. Brown added "These men will be your pilots, from now on" Mr. Brown then asked the pilot "Abbout those military markings...", and the pilot said "Whoever applied them knew what they were doing. The best we can hope for is to paint over them, eventually". While Mr. Brown, and the pilots, talked business, Tami and I checked out the planes interior. Man, was it "decked out". From the outside, this plane was about as interesting as concrete. From the inside, however, she was a beauty. Inside the dull, grey, skin was a modern marvel. It was like someone placed an entire building inside the plane. Each of our "cabins" was more like an apartment, than a compartment. And even the pilots had their own rooms. In the public spaces, this thing had every electronic convenience imaginabble, as well as a fully stocked lab, and seperate work-spaces, for Tami and I. In some ways, I felt that this plane put the flashy 747-400 to shame. This plane had a tried, and true, record. It would do whatever needed done. Mr. Brown told Tami and I that this plane was our "gift", from the man whose yacht we had saved. The man had taken our suggestions to heart, and this plane was our reward, for a job well done. From now on, it seems, Tami and I would no-longer wait at airport terminals, or have long, crowded, flights to deal with. Now, we would travel in comfort, to our assignments. Then, Mr. Brown gave us our next surprise. Taking us to what used to be the bomb-bay, Mr Brown presented us our new "wheels". For the studious Tami, a four-door convertable. For "reckless" me, a replacement bicycle, as well as a "decked out" Jeep Wagonneer. When Tami asked "Why supply me with a car? My license was removed, due to my condition, and my medications. Why waste the money?" Mr. Brown would say "Our employers have been reviewing your records, and they are suspicious, of certain entries" True, it had been years, since Tami's suicide "attempt", and that, in itself, was suspicious, since even I knew that truly suicidal people dont stop, at just one attempt. That is, if they, truly, want to kill themselves. If a person is truly committed to an act, one might as well make sure the coffin is comfortable. I also know thhat Illinois LOVES to place drivers on "restriction" status. The Secretary of State LOVES to micro-manage peoples driving activities (among other things). To both Tami, and my, shock, Mr. Brown said that Tami's drivers license would be ready, and waiting, by the time we returned to the case location. Tami would nly say "I hope I remember HOW to drive. It has been so long". Once Mr. BBrown verified, with the pilots, that supplies, and fuel, were stored, Mr. BBrown shook our hands, then said "Good luck", and departed the plane. Soon after thisw, we had clearance, from the tower, and were off, into the sky. The plane was, surprisingly, comfortable. Just as I had predicted, as well. With as many decades as these old planes had been around, no one paid any attention to the old, propeller driven cargo plane. We were, for all intents, and purposes, "invisible". It was not until the co-pilot came to us, and asked WHERE we wanted to land, that Tami and I found out that this plane was not only good, on her belly, but that the plane was fitted with vertical engines, so that it could land, and take off, straight up and down, as well. All the pilots needed was enough room to fit the planes carcass. When I suggested a field, which I remembered that I found, not far from the coast, the co-pilot said that would be fine. Plenty of room there. Well, just as I had predicted, upon take-off, no one paid any attention to the old cargo plane, even as it set down, vertically, in the meadow. Once we were down, Tami went "live", oon the internet, grabbing information, which she had been "declined", at local offices. This is when she found a pattern to the encounters. As Tami would report, "I have gone back as far as the 1500's, so far, but I have found atleast oone, common, factor, to most of the encounters, to date. They are all descendants of a man named Wilkerson" Tami would say that it appearred that, in his day, this Wilkerson had been a well established pirate, and that he had atleast one partner. One man whose name was unklnown, so far. When Mr. Brown asked "Relevance?", Tami would say "According to various accounts, this WIlkerson either "turned states evidence", or stabbed his partner I wont know which, or bore you with deatils, except to say that the partner, upon the day of his deathh, cursed the Wilkerson family, and all their descendants. The curse was that the pirate partner would return, from the grave, and seek a "watery vengeance" When Mr. Brown would say "I see, now, what is your next move?", Tami suggested "Why dont we go out, on the next Coast Guard patrol, and see what we can learn. All we would need is Coast Guard permission, right?" When Mr. Brown hesitated, Tami reminded him "We're not asking to be in on an invasion, like Afghanistan, sir. All we would be doing is "tagging along", on a routine patrol". Mr. Brown would say "I will see what I can do". I dont know which of us had the idea, first, but Tami and I voiced the idea, almost together, saying we wished we could have the chance to go aboard the pirate ship, and have a look around. That is, if the ship had a physical body. Ofcourse, if we tried to board, and found ourselves in the ocean, the Coast Guard should fish us out, hopefully. This discussioon lead us to hours, of internet searches, for various types of saiil powered craft. Tami would have used modern, witness, accounts, to guess the type of ship, but, of the hundred reports, on file, the size of the craft varied from between three, and twenty-five decks, and was either "short", as a full size luxury car, or as long as four football fields. Some reports claimed the ship was as spartan as a hospital room, while others said the ship was decorated in fine, imperial, style. This left us the prolem of over 50 different possible designs, any one of which COULD be the right one (The WRONG one might cost us our lives). When Mr. Brown contacted us, he seemed apologetic as he said "Sorry, the Coast Guard says no-go on passengers, for regular patrols. It would seem that "regular patrol" is defined as "drug interdiction". He, then brightened as he added "The Coast Guard does have some boats, which are down, for maintenance. The local commander thinks that a search mission might make an excellent "shake down cruise" for a newly repaired ship". When Tami and I arrived, at the Coast Guard shipyard, I dont really know what we expected to find. All that I know is that most of the boats were in, for either routine maintenance, or upgrades. Only two were in for reasons we were interested in. One frigate was, obviously, in for a blown out hulll. According to our guide, the ship had been fueling, and provisioning, for a trip to intercept a large shipment, from a Columbian drug lord. It is assumed that the drug lord found out, about the proposed plan, and sent in divers, to the yard, with demolition charges. Technically, the boat had sunk, at anchor. Due to its size, and the shallow water, f the yard, however, salvaging the ship was easy. Now, the Coast Guard wass just waiting on orders. Either to fix the ship, or cannibalize it, for parts. The other ship, in dry dock, had no problem the Coast Guard could fix. Our guide, briefly, summarized that, since the death, of a young sailor, who left behind a widow, and six children, crew would not stay aboard the ship, and its systems failed, with annoying regularity. The guide claimed that tugs were kept, close by, each time the ship left anchor. The ship never travelled more than 50 feet, when the engines would just stop working. The tugs would, then have to tug the ship back to its mooring. So far as the guide knew, there was no explanation. Tami and I suspected one explanation, but remained silent, for the moment, as our guide headed towards the remainder of the "out-of-action" ships. Here, we found a ship we liked, yet the guide said the ship had a "problem". The story goes that, when the captain ordered up "more speed", to catch a speed boat, accused of gun-running, the ships engineer said the ship was as maximum. The captain made a decision, which had, since, left him in the brig, awaiting court-martial. According to what our guide had heard, the captain had followedd someones advice, sailed into a bayou, and traded some supplies, for a few cases of the moonshiner best brew. This was, later, mixed into the fuel tanks, as the Frigate chased the speed boat. When this was added to the diesel fuel, the frigates engines increased their output enough to overtake the speed boat. A shipment of weapons, and ammo, were taken into custody. When the frigate returned to port, though, the Coast Guard placed its skipper under arrest, for using "un-authorized" "fuel". When Tami asked "Why was the captain arrested? He did his job, in stopping the gun-runner" Our guide said "yes, ma'am, he did his jobb, and the gun-runner is in jail, awaiting trial" When Tami was about to ask, the guide told us "Coast Guard regs say we use only military grade fuel, in these ships. When the captain added moonshine to the recipe, it increased output, alright, but it violated Coast Guard rewgs. Result, the ships engines are full of "contraband" whiskey, and must be pulled, cleaned, and re-built, before she can go to sea, again". When I asked "Is there anything else wrong with her I mean, besides a belly full of booze?" The guide promised "Shes fully operational, loaded, and coulld put to sea, inside an hour", then added "Once the engines are cleaned out, ofcourse". This gave me an idea, which Tami brought together. Tami and I petitioned for, and received, a "temporary reprieve", for the frigates captain, then told him our proposal. We planned to take the boat out, trade some more navy diesel, for some whiskey, then see if we could use this to catch the pirate ship. Ofcourse, the very idea, of military vessels, running on moonshine, made the admiralty outraged, what with the potential cnsequences, if the public found out its tax-dollars were going to pay for contraband whiskey. How woulld the admirals explain this to Washington? Powering naval vessels on illegal whiskey, blended with diesel. What a farce the media would make, of this. When this was followed by three craft, all vanishing on the same day, the admiralty gave the permission. What did they have to lose? The moonshine was placed under guard, ofcourse, and labelled for what it was: FUEL. The captain did not want his crew getting drunk, on the "fuel". For ten, long, boring, days, our frigate would set out, each day, patrol its section, oof the coast, then return, at the end of the shift. Ten shifts, of watching the ocean, hoping for a glimpse. About the only people, on-bard, with anything to do would be the mechanics, who had to keep the thick, diesel, fuel flowing to the engines. It seems that the diesel fuel was thick enough to be slow, and long, burning, but this also meant constant maintenance of the fuel lines. As for Tami and I, we were about as useful, as an 18-wheeler, on the ocean. About all we could do was sit back, and watch. One day eleven, we hoped we were onto something, when we received a report of an "unusual" craft, seen floating, off the coast. Sure, from a distance, it seemed to look like a pirate vessel, but it turned out to be an experimental yacht, which was out, for sea trials, and had come within sight of land when its radar system malfunctioned. It would not be until some Lord Dorscher would take his yacht out, for some sailing, that "our" pirate ship would coome onto the scene. With a Coast Guard frigate just a few miles distant, his lordship was relaxed, and at ease, as he sailed into a peaceful, sunny, day. It would be we, on the frigate, who would be on our toes. And it was a good thing we were. Lord Dorcher was about three hours out of port, when our look-out reported a bank of mist, about two miles out to sea. What the captain found odd was that weather conditions were all wrong, for such a "fog". It SHOULD have been impossible. Still, the captain ordered "Action Stations", and the ship went on alert. At first, the mist was as sheer as panty-hose, and we could see right through it. After awhile, though, the "fog" became thicker, and visibility went way down. Maybe an hour later, the fog was thick enough that only radar could penetrate it. When the captain called his lordship, with news of the fog, the man replied "Not to worry, old chap. I know this area. I can make the warf in just under five miles". When the fog began closing in, like a curtain, the captain ordered the watch to keep within visual range, of his lordship. When the captain called down to the engine room "Prepare for speed", the engineer said "Aye, sir", and this is when the engineer, and his aide, began pouring the moonshine into the fuel tanks. As a result of this preparation, when the captain ordered "Full Speed", the frigate nearly leaped out of the water, as it surged forward, and back into view of his lordships boat. Good thing it leapt so fast, since it was obvious that his lordship was under attack. The pirate ship was swinging back and forth, trying to cut his lordship off, even as the frigates siren blasted a warning to veer off. A warning which the pirate ship seemed to ignore, even as it charged his lordship. Although his lordship seemed to keep his calm, the captain was sure the man must have been terrified, having that monster looming over his tiny craft. This is why the frigate tried firing on the pirate ships waterline, hoping to force a surrender. The captain would only say "What the..." when he saw that the pirate ship was neither listing, nor sinking, even after 12 shots. When he checked the radar, and saw only the lordships yacht, on-screen, the radar operator said "I have re-checked it three times, sir. Radars working. That thing is shielded". The next time the captain would say "What the...", was when he watched the yacht "disappear", behind the mass, of the pirate ship, as the pirate cut between the frigate, and the yacht, yet the yacht never reappearred, on the other side. When the captain asked the radio man, about the report, and admiralty orders, the radio man said "No signal, sir! Even my cell-phone has no bars. I dont understand it". When the captain checked with other officers, same thing. Something was blocking all radio signals. It would not be untill AFTER the fog lifted, some two hours later, that radioes would work, again. The captain, now, had to explain what had happened to his lordship, and how a ship, just 500 yards away, could "disappear", from sight. This was a report the captain would have PAID a crew member to make for him, if he could. After Lord Dorchers disappearance, local authorities were prepared to issue a no-boating order, but Tami and I agreed with the Coast Guard. An order would only postpone the next attack. No, we had to have an attack, on our terms. Although nothing turned out, on the digital photo's, there were enough eyes, on the frigate, to give us a good view, of the ships shape. Somehow, the ancient builders had created a craft, some ten stories tall, which was as sea-worthy as any craft. Massive beams, and canvas sheets, of amazing quality. There were even cannon ports, for as manyy as thirty cannon. Oddly enough, no shots were fired, from any of the cannon, not even while under fire, from the frigate. Tami and I verified that we had seen no sign, of life, on-board the pirate ship, either. As for how his lordship could have "vanished" so quickly, and completely, even I had no clue. Especially once the ship "swallowed" him up, then turned its rear on the frigate. There were no booms in sight. The pirate just sailed right back iinto the fog. The crew verified that the captain tried to follow, into the fog, but it got so thick that it was like sheets, across the bridge windows. For fifteen solid minutes, we could see nothing except the ship, itself. After this, the captain ordered radar to chart a course, out of this stuff, and head back to base. When Tami investigated Lord Dorschers line, she found that, going back far enough, that he was kin of Wilkersen. By the time we learned this, though, two other families had gone sailing, and vanished. It was Tami's research which found Neil Hamilton. From a distant branch of the Wilkerson family. In fact, it was Neil who suggested we connect a wire cable, to his boat, and maintain contact this way. Even with a wire connection, and a Coast Guard ship, only 1,000 feet distant, the fog returned, and the battle was on. The pirate ship seemed to ignore the wire, and just kept cutting across Neils bow. The captain even brought along laser range-finding equipment, this time, yet his binoculars told the same story. Both armour-piercing, and incendiary, rounds just passed through the pirate ship. Even a machine gun had no effect. It was not until the pirate ship tried to pass etween the ships, and encountered the wire cable, that the battle began in earnest. Un-seen crew-members opened the cannon covers, and rolled classic iron cannon out of the hull. Oddly enough, though, there was none of the usual noise, one would hear, in any pirate epic.. This pirate was as silent as the wind. When Neil Hamilton cranked the line in, he was helped aboard the Frigate, by some crew-members, while the Frigate, and the pirate ship exchanged fire. What no one could understand was how our rounds went through the pirate ship, non-stop, while their cannon fire shook the frigate. It was obvious that this ship wanted Neil, and it was not about to take "NO" for an answer. This is why I thanked god for our "back-up plan". No less than four frigates were following, about five miles back, and they were under orders. Make no contact unless radio contact is lost. (This is why our frigates radio operator had been sharing scuttlebutt, over the radio, during the patrol.) When the pursuing ships lost our signal, they went to battle speed, and caught up with us. Now, the pirate would be facing no less than five frigates. I would have wagered a months wages that the pirate would have broken off, and run away, from a total of five ships, but not this guy. Whoever he was, he had his mind set on a goal, and he was determined to achieve his goal. (If it was a he, that is). All tat I know is that, during the ensuing fight, the pirate ship, somehow, held its own, until a flight, of F-35 fighters joined the battle. Once the fighters went into hover mode, fired missiles, into the aft, of the pirate ship, then sttraffed the ship, with their cannons, its seems that the pirate ship began to llose its resolve. I dont think that anyone counted how many missiles that the fighters "poured" into the pirate ship, but the effect was as desired, as the pirate ship, finally sank beneath the waves, in a malestrom of "boiling" water. It was only after the fighters returned to horizontal flight, and sped away, that the captain came to tell us the news. The fighters had come from the carrier Abraham Lincoln, which had bbeen monitoring the battle, from far away. With the pirate ship finally sunk, our little floatilla returned to the yard, for our de-briefing, before Tami and I returned to our plane. It was not until Tami got back on-line that the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. As it turns out, Wilkerson was no "angel", either. Patching together long strings, of loose tales, Tami pieced together the story of one Joseph Wilkersen. In his day, Wilkersen had been both a successful pirate, and an un-scrupulous businessman. It seems that Wilkersen had a penchant for wanting what other men had. He saw it as "proof" of his "manhood", when he took what other men possessed. Wilkersen had taken wives, and even children, from other men, used each, to his advantage, then sold them into slavery. With earnings, from these sales, he had built a fleet, of pirate ships, all of which paid him tribute. For Wilkersen, though, the money was just an appetizer. His passion remained stealing from others. If the accounts were to be believed, then Wilkersen took wives, from seven different partners. When husbands protested, Wilkersen "dispatched" the men, usually with his sword. His last partner was different, though. A man just as ruthless, and cunnin g, as Wilkersen, himself. A man cunning enough to hide his family, from Wilkersen, and cunning enough to steal, even from Wilkersen, without Willkersens knowledge. History is not clear on how Wilkersen found out about the mans family, but it seems that Wilkersen was so enraged, at people being so far beyond his reach, that he used some of his own booty to frame the man. When the partner was sentenced to death, Wilkersen offered to help him, for a "price". When the man would not agree, Wilkersen made sure the man saw him, at his hanging. It would be on the gallows that the man would curse Wilkersen into the great beyond. When asked if Wilkersen ever fund the hidden family, Tami said the man spent several fortunes, in his attempt, but n success was, ever, recorded. When Mr. Brown asked THE question, of what woke the specter, from his sleep, and put him on the rampage, Tami said she suspected it had to do with some research, which the family was doing, into its history. "I suspect", she said "that the ghost was ready to do most anything, to take revenge on the man who had wronged him. Even if that meant hurting innocent people." When Mr. Brown asked "Yes, I understand that, but WHY here, WHY now?", Tami could only say she suspected that the research was raising old memories, old fears, and old suspicions. "I suspect", Tami would say,"That these emotions brought the specter back to life". When Mr. Brown asked "Conclusions?", Tami would say "The researcher has finished their work, here, and are moving on, to Europe. The HOME of Wilkersen, and his band of pirates. If my theory holds true, then attacks, on the seaboard, are over with". What no one knew was that, even as they held their teleconference, and the researcher ws on a plane, for Europe, the waters, off of the coast, would begin to "boil" once again... When Mr. Brown gave us his congratullations, on another job, well done, and gave us permission to come home, Tami would cringe. She hated the thought, of returning home. Not to Illinois, but to her "life-style". I surpressed a smile as she belted into her seat, whispering "I hope the engines dont start". WHen they did, she said "Oh, well". Our "invisible" jet would climb into the sky, laying in a course, for home. I saw her smile, with hope, when I reminded her of how our previous missions had ended, so far. It would seem that, everytime we were ready to return home, we would just be making our "goodbyes", when Mr. Brown would ask us into his office, "Just for a moment". I wondered if another case would be waiting, upon our return. I didn't have long to wait. At the firms offices, Tami and I were just turning in our expense cards, and keys, when Mr. Green, not Mr. Brown, asked us aside, saying he wanted our opinion, on a file. Mr. Green was one of Mr. Browns associates. Something like a partner, I suspect. Mr. Green asked Tami and I to look over the file, which was listed as "suspicious activity", and tell him if the subject warranted further investigation. My thought was: Here we go, again! When Tami brightened, at the chance to start a new case, I gave in, and agreed. After all, it wasn't like we had other, pressing, engagements...