The Nightshaker Conspiracy.
Chapter One.
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia. February 1988.
In a meeting room buried deep within the CIA HQ, four men sat round a glass topped table, steaming cups of coffee, two packs of Marlboro's, two Zippo's, four pads of plain paper and standard issue Biro's scattered across it. Smoke curled into the air from two cigarettes burning independently in the ash tray and mixing with that expelled from the two who were smoking cigars.
The group consisted of Barney Howard, the Head of Intelligence and Analysis, Joe Westwood, the Head of Clandestine Service, David James, Head of Science and Technology and Admiral Benjamin Allen, Head of Naval Intelligence.
"Insofar as the media and, consequently, the general public were concerned the experiment was never carried out." said Admiral Allen, a thick cloud of cigar smoke billowing from his mouth.
"But it was, wasn't it, Admiral." replied Barney Howard, picking up his smouldering cigarette from the ashtray and taking a deep drag. "And now the files and complete details of that successful experiment have gone missing."
"God help us if the Russians get their goddam hands on it." said Joe Westwood.
What they were referring to had been code named at the time 'The Philadelphia Experiment', an alleged military experiment that is said to have been carried out by the U.S. Navy at the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard in Pennsylvania in October, 1943.
The U.S. Navy destroyer escort 'USS Eldridge' was claimed to be rendered invisible, or "cloaked", to enemy devices.
"Just so we have everyone singin' off of the same hymn sheet here." said Barney, blowing smoke out as he spoke. "Perhaps you can get us on the same page, Admiral."
Admiral Allen, his cigar buried in the side of his mouth, cleared his throat.
"Well, the experiment was based on an aspect of the 'Unified Field Theory' and aimed to describe, mathematically and physically, the unification of fields of electromagnetism and gravity into one, thus enabling a person to use large electrical generators to bend light around an object via refraction, so that the object became completely invisible."
"Sheesh!" exclaimed Joe. "I guess the Navy wet their pants over that, huh?"
"Certainly did." confirmed the Admiral. "We regarded this of military value, and by all accounts, sponsored the experiment."
"So how come the shit didn't hit the fan?" asked David James, stubbing out his Marlboro.
"Through a systematic release of disinformation." replied Admiral Allen. "We maintained that no such experiment was ever conducted, that the details of the story contradict well-established facts about the Eldridge itself, and that the alleged claims do not conform to known physical laws, so consequently we were successful in the story being widely believed to be a hoax."
"Tests were carried out though, weren't they." stated David, lighting another cigarette.
"Sure were." replied Admiral Allen. "Testing began in the summer of 1943, and it was supposedly successful to a limited degree. One test though, resulted in the Eldridge being rendered almost completely invisible, with some witnesses reporting a greenish fog appearing in its place. Crew members complained of severe nausea afterwards, but that wasn't the worst of it."
"Why? What was?" asked Barney.
"When the ship reappeared, some sailors were embedded in the metal structures of the ship, including one sailor who ended up on a deck level below that where he began, and had his hand embedded in the steel hull of the ship!" replied the Admiral. "Other sailors went completely bananas!"
"Holy Christ!" exclaimed David, his expression incredulous. "Didn't they can the whole thing after that?"
"No, they didn't. The experiment was altered at our request." replied the Admiral. "And the new objective was solely to render the Eldridge invisible to radar."
"And did that go ahead?" asked Barney.
"No. The conjecture was that the equipment was not properly re-calibrated, but in spite of that, the experiment was repeated on October 28, 1943." said the Admiral. "That time, the Eldridge not only became invisible, but she physically vanished from the area in a flash of blue light and teleported to Norfolk, Virginia, over 200 miles away!"
"What!?" exclaimed Barney, a cloud of smoke bursting from his mouth as it dropped open, the mouth's of the other two gaping at the Admiral.
"Yep. The Eldridge sat for some time in full view of men aboard the ship 'SS Andrew Furuseth', whereupon the Eldridge vanished from their sight." replied the Admiral. "Then it reappeared in Philadelphia at the site it had originally occupied. And here's the thing. That warship went approximately 10 seconds back in time!"
"Holy Mother of God!" hissed an astonished Joe Westwood, all three rubbing their foreheads in disbelief.
"And that's not all, gentlemen." continued the Admiral. "Some crew members were physically fused to bulkheads, while others suffered from mental disorders, some rematerialized inside out, and still others simply vanished."
"How in all that's sane, did the Navy keep all that under wraps!?" asked a still incredulous David James, along with his two colleagues and who also wanted that question answering.
Admiral Allen hesitated before answering, clearly gathering himself to explain, and sucked on his cigar.
"The ship's crew may have been subjected to brainwashing, in order to maintain the secrecy of the experiment." he said.
"Hell fire, gentlemen." said Joe. "We have to find those plans and details before they fall into the wrong hands, if they haven't already. Interpol and MI6 have been notified of the theft. An internal investigation is already under way, codename 'Operation Nightshaker', to try and get some timelines on it all. I'll report back to the Director a little later today. This whole sorry story must never get into the public domain!"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In London, newly weds James and Lady Harriet Dempsey were awaiting the maitre'd to show them to their table in the Yalousa Taverni, a Greek restaurant in Soho.
They were gathered around the bar with the six friends who'd been on Necker Island to witness their marriage, two bottles of champagne open in front of them. All eight were a picture of health, their skin tanned from the Caribbean sun.
Although it was only mid week, the restaurant was busy and the atmosphere bubbling with conversation and laughter, traditional Greek music playing softly in the background.
"When did you actually get back, Harry?" asked Angela, the closest of her friends.
"Sunday." replied Harry, taking a sip of Krug. "We spent most of it in the air."
"The air or cloud nine?" asked Angela, grinning, a knowing look in her eye.
"Well it was a private jet, Angela." she giggled, unable to hide the mischief on her face, before sighing. "It was the most heavenly way to spend Valentine's Day!"
"Ooh you minx." whispered Angela, her imagination running wild as she finished her wine and reached for the bottle.
"I did tell you how they like to make your trip as comfortable as possible, didn't I." grinned Harry, her eyes shining.
"You did and I aim to find out for myself." chuckled Angela, then dropping to a whisper. "I've been working on Ollie ever since you let me into your little secret."
"You haven't told him, have you!?" asked Harry, alarmed and levelling a direct gaze at her friend.
"No! Of course not!" replied Angela, placing the bottle of champagne back on the bar and taking a sip from her replenished glass. "As it happens there was a documentary on the tellybox last week, all about private travel. And the cameras went inside a jet a bit like the one you were probably on. So now I keep dropping hints in his direction."
"Any luck?" asked Harry, grinning once more.
"Not yet! But he won't escape!" replied Angela, then winking. "Softly, softly catchee monkey!"
"You're learning." giggled Harry as Dempsey slipped his arm around her waist.
"Hungry honey?" he asked as she reciprocated and leant against him, then kissed his cheek.
"Food now. You later." she whispered, having worked her fingers under his shirt and, hidden by his jacket, lightly scratched his skin with her fingernails, knowing how much it turned him on.
She let out a little gasp as the hand around her waist slid lower and squeezed, her senses already beginning to tingle at his touch.
The maitre'd approached then and escorted them to a large circular table, where an army of waiters buzzed around them, dishing out menu's and taking orders for drinks.
"How are the arrangements going for your reception, Harriet?" asked Rupert, Dempsey's best man.
"Daddy has everything sorted." replied Harry, looking up from her menu at him. "He put all the finishing touches together whilst we've been on Bali."
"Talking about Bali." said Hugo, as two waiters brought three more bottles of chilled Krug to the table. "By the colour of you both, the weather must have been glorious. You put us lot in the shade!"
"Wall ta wall sunshine!" replied Dempsey, grabbing a bottle and filling Harry's glass, followed by Arabella's next to him, before topping up his own. "Warm sea, cool nights and total seclusion."
"Ah, so that explains your tans despite being on honeymoon!" chuckled Rupert, echoing Dempsey's similar remark when meeting him and his wife, Lady Arabella, following their own honeymoon a couple of months earlier.
"I've modelled on Bali." said Belinda, Hugo's latest squeeze and who he'd brought to Necker with him. She was a statuesque brunette with beautiful skin and eyes of deep violet, her long, thick black hair accentuated with faint traces of red and blonde streaks.
"Really? Who for?" asked Harry who, despite being in her company for a whole week, never did get the chance to have a proper conversation with her. In fact she wasn't alone. Belinda had appeared welded to Hugo throughout and, apart from the hen party, had been somewhat of a loner.
"Calvin Klein." replied Belinda, smiling across at her and holding up her glass for Hugo to fill. "He'd just launched his latest range of lingerie, so we did some beautiful and tasteful photographs on the beaches there."
"Ooh, you lucky thing." said Arabella, sipping her wine. "What a wonderful job you must have."
"Yes, I love it." replied Belinda, sipping hers. "I get to see the world and meet lots of lovely people - well in the main they are lovely - some of them, male and female, can be rather difficult - and nasty."
"Green eyed monster nasty?" asked Angela, not altogether sure what to make of Belinda.
"From the women, yes." she replied. "The men! They were just after one thing!"
"I can't imagine why." Dempsey chipped in, only to get a kick on the shin from Harry, although the look on her face was one of amusement, rather than annoyance.
"Trust you!" she whispered, nudging him in the ribs for good measure, the others, including Belinda, chuckling at them both.
"Are you still on Calvin Klein's books?" asked Joyce, a close friend of both Harry and Dempsey and the only one of Harry's friends who knew she worked alongside Dempsey in SI-10, a special department of undercover and counter intelligence operatives, linked to both MI5 and MI6, Joyce attached to the latter. Like Harry, her true employment was also a closely guarded secret.
"Yes I have a contract with the company which has just been extended." replied Belinda, smiling round at everyone.
"Congratulations." said Joyce, like Angela not certain of what made this beauty tick.
"Yes well done you." echoed Harry, noting Joyce's slightly quizzical reaction to Belinda. "Are you working on anything currently?"
"Yes a mixture of things." replied Belinda. "I'm modelling in the studio at present and am often called upon to be present at various functions as a representative of the fashion industry."
"And what does that entail?" asked Roger, Joyce's boyfriend of several months and Harry's cousin.
"Oh, partnering various bigwigs to functions, parties and dinners." replied Belinda.
"Bit like an escort then." said Rupert, grinning at Hugo, who was non too pleased at the casual, yet obvious, reference to prostitution.
"I don't sleep with them!" replied Belinda, her tone cutting and glaring at Rupert.
"Rupert!" hissed Arabella, angrily. "That was uncalled for!"
"Yes I'm sorry, Belinda." replied Rupert, sheepishly. "That was out of order."
An embarrassed, momentary silence fell across the table, broken by the arrival of a waiter to take their orders for food.
The rest of the evening went off happily, Rupert's faux-pas soon forgotten, everyone looking forward to meeting up at Winfield Hall on Saturday for Dempsey and Harry's belated wedding reception organized for the many family and friends who, for obvious reasons, couldn't be on Necker.
On the way home, Harry, fuelled by the champagne and liqueurs consumed that evening, was in a frivolous mood, deliberately teasing Dempsey by running her fingers up and down his thigh as he drove.
"You're gonna be in real trouble when I get you home, Mrs Dempsey." he chuckled.
"Mmmm, promises, promises." replied Harry, her voice low and deliberately seductive.
Five minutes later she was sound asleep.
Meanwhile, on their drive away from the restaurant, Hugo wanted Belinda to stay with him for the night.
"I'm sorry, babe." she soothed, caressing the back of his neck. "I've got an early call in the morning. I'll stay over on Friday, then we can go to Harry and James's reception on Saturday. Okay babe?"
"I s'pose so." replied Hugo, reluctantly. "Best I drive you home in that case."
After making a fuss of him, she finally waved him off and let herself into her luxury apartment. Having changed into a baby doll night dress fashioned in white silk, she picked up her telephone and dialled a number.
Hearing the deep voice the other end, she said.
"Ivan? I'm home."