Lost At Sea by Arthur Limbada (non fiction books to read .txt) 📖

didn’t actually get anything out of him except a name. Henry Downing. I searched up on him. He was also a passenger on the Bermuda Ship. Apparently he lives in Bermuda.”
“You want us to check out his house?”
“Yes. But let me tell you something strange. I searched up on the house the address is to and found out that it belonged to a certain Vincent Hugh. I didn’t find anything about him. He didn’t have any relatives and he didn’t and never had worked anywhere. I searched for any faces that matched up with him and guess what I found?”
“Please tell me, I am interested.”
“He was Albert Guss.”
“. . . Which Is?”
“Let me teach you something young man. Albert Guss was a scientist. He discovered the mineral “Posatalate” or as most of us all knows as the cure for the Loco disease. He had a brilliant mind and he grouped up with four other scientists to do tests on this mineral. This was before the break out of the Loco disease and he found a small amount of this Posatalate. After about three months of hard work something happened though. Fred Young, one of the four young students working together with Albert Guss was murdered, shot through the heart. Another thing that happened was that the same night that this happened was that Albert disappeared.
“The police found the gun used to do the murder and found it belonged to the missing Albert Guss and there were his fingerprints even on the gun. Even till now they have never found a reason for the random killing. His other colleagues did mention that Albert was acting a lot more uptight than they were used to. And for killing Fred they couldn’t understand. Fred and Albert were best friends all the way from high school.”
“Wow.”
“Yep. And the amazing thing is that I found him just like that when the whole America couldn’t.”
“Well don’t get to proud. I think I would credit that to luck. And we will definitely take a look.”
“That is great. I will send you a sms of the street address. The best of luck to you all! Hopefully you will find something to give this mission a real strong kick in the back side.”
“We will definitely need it. The sooner we do the less amount of people have to die. And thank you.”

* * * * *

The building stood in front of them. Some may say that due to the immense importance of this house to the discovery of the world’s cure of extinction, it should be something large and imposing. Instead, the cottage standing ahead of them was small, unimpressive structure. Without looking around, Terrance, Chevan and Tyron could tell that no one had looked after the house in a while. The grass on the front lawn was extremely overgrown. Several newspapers were lying on the lush vegetation.
Terrance walked up to the front door and rang the bell.

“Doesn’t look like any one’s here, Chevan said, trying to peer through the curtains blocking the window.”
Tyron walked up and joined her.
“It’s true. And look, seems like we got a little audience!”
“Where, who, Terrance asked?”
“They’re right behind me, neighbours from across the street.”
Terrance turned around and looked. Across the street an elderly couple stood on their front lawn, watching them. He walked across the silent street, his boots kicking up hot gravel.
“Hello sir, ma’am. I hope it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you if I asked a few questions. My name is Terrance Ridly and I work for a detective agency called the I.D.I. Right now I am working on a top secret mission and it would be of a great help to me and my mission if I could receive a little information on the owner and occupants of the house across from us.”
“Oh yes, we would be glad to help you as much as you need.” The old lady bobbed her large head up and down, a large smile on her face. Terrance could already see the old wife inviting her lady friends for tea the same afternoon and repeating the whole conversation he was about to have with her. She was the perfect woman for what he needed. She was full of gossip.

“Okay, firstly, who lives inside that house, Terrance questioned?”
“A young chap, name’s Vincent Hugh, quite hansom’ like. He as blonde hair, sparkling green eyes, and is round his mid thirties. I don’t think he had a profession. He stayed in his house most of the time, what he was up to I still don’t know. You know, I think he has been murdered or kidnapped.
“What?”
“Why yes young sir, I am actually quite sure. Maggie and I were actually just talking ‘bout it last night over a cup of good cup of coffee.
“But, what makes you think that?”
“Well, you see, as I said before, Vincent stayed in his house most of the time. However, every other day he would go down to the shops and buy groceries. I think he had some medical problems because he would visit the pharmacy at least once a week at the least. Anyway, he hasn’t been out for three days already.”
“Okay. But wait! What about the other person living there, Henry Downing?
“Henry Downing? I never heard of a Henry Downing. I’m basically completely sure Vincent was the only person living in that house. Unless, her face broke into a wide grin, there was some kind of secret passage in the house, which transported this “Henry Downing” in and out of the house.”
Terrance felt he had gotten all the information he could receive from the lady without going completely mad. He could also tell that the old woman wanted to share her amazing new idea with her good friends.

“Well thank you sir and madam, it was extremely insightful.”
“Pssht, no problem, the old man answered, and the best of luck to finding whatever you are trying to find.”
Terrance almost got startled as he realized that there was someone else standing beside the lady. She had been talking so much that he hardly saw him there.

“What a talker,” he grumbled as he walked away.

His mind tried to grab a hold of all the information, to sort them into useful files and pack them into the boxes of his mind for further study of them.
“Either this “Henry Downing” person lived in the house but never came out. He wouldn’t have been able to sneak out the front of the house with that type of “spying” going on.
Or, as the lady was saying, there was a secret passageway somewhere in the house which this Henry Downing used to enter and leave the premises.
Or, another reason was Henry Downing never lived in this house.
Then there would be two reasons he could have given this house. He could have either given the address because he didn’t want them to know his real address so he picked a random house address or he could have given the address because he didn’t want them to know his real address but he chose this house because he wanted whoever was going to look into him to find this house.”

His contemplating sharply ended with the loud sound of a crash.
Tyron was the perpetrator. The front door lay flat down, smashed in. The insides of the old cottage revealed. Terrance ran up to Tyron.

“Tyron, I never told you to break into the house. This is not like the movies. We are not allowed to just bash down the door and go in without some kind of warrant no matter whom or what is inside the house.”
Tyron wasn’t so repentant.
“Terrance, the way I see it is, we either check it out now or we wait for who knows how long till we get a warrant and by then perhaps another fifty plus people will die and whatever we might find here could be moved. Any ways, I already broke it open; we might as well check this place out. And we got witnesses as well, so we couldn’t put the door back.”
“Witnesses?”
“Uhuh.”
“Oh. What? Them? In their windows?”
“Yessir.”
“Gosh.”
“You can say that again. Now will you follow me?”
“Lead the way.”

6. The Hunt

Andrew Gray and Gerald Hudson stepped back out into the open air. They both felt bare, exposed, as if from an open wound. The wide open air above them, now cleared of clouds, thundered upon the two, crashing down on them. Every open window surrounding them seemed to be a threat to their very existence. They were both reminded of the story of the king at dinner that looks up to find a sword dangling over his head.

About ten minutes ago Andrew had phoned up the I.D.I. headquarters.
He had requested them to view the tapes of the many security cameras from the last hour. Of course it might take them a little while to be able to get a hold of that footage, but once they did, if it wasn’t too late, it would assist tremendously in the investigation.
Faces passed by them, faces that jostled and pushed, always trying to get everywhere first. Faces that didn’t care who they trampled over to achieve their goals. Altogether they were not bad people, but they were people whose lives were as fragile as the ant under their feet.
“Who knows, Gerald’s troubled mind pondered, all these people, by tomorrow at least three of them could, no, will be dead or at least catch the Loco disease.” The frailty of life didn’t just dawn on him; it hacked its way into his mind. It wasn’t fear that frightened him; but was rather a cold calculation of life, and that scared him even more.

He felt something hitting against his leg. He looked down and saw the same newspaper that hit the windshield earlier today. “It’s strange, it definitely seems longer than that, he said to himself, I guess so much has happened in the last two hours.”
He picked up the paper.
“President to speak at festival,” he interjected, reading the front page’s title.
“Say what,” Andrew asked? He seemed to be musing over something on his own as well.
“It says here Florence Koss will have a speech at the festival, he explained”
“Really, about what?”
“Oh