Three Corners to Nowhere by Martin Caidin

Author:Martin Caidin [Caidin, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi
Publisher: Bantam Books
Published: 1975-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Before the week was out, Dale Fenton was fast becoming an expert on phenomena within the Devil’s Triangle. Everything he’d heard—from people who had been personally and directly involved—convinced him that most textbooks on the weather characteristics of the Triangle should be burned.

He learned to be suspicious of my magnetic compass anytime I’m flying in that area,” Al Dickensen told him. Dickensen was a commercial pilot for an air-taxi outfit operating to the north of Miami. “North Andros seems to be the worst. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched that mag compass spin like it was crazy. I don’t know what sets it off. The thing sometimes spins to the right, sometimes to the left. There’s no way of knowing. All I do know is not to trust it.”

“Al, when you lose the mag compass, let’s say your directional gyro hasn’t been corrected. There’s not too much VHF down there, especially if you’re low. How do you handle it?”

The old-time pilot gave him a crooked grin. “Very carefully, Fenton, that’s how. It’s crazy, but you can’t even trust your directional finder half the time in that area. The damn thing points everywhere but to where the station lies.”

“Why?”

Dickensen shrugged. “You tell me, friend. All I know is that there’s a bend in the beam. I know the books say that can’t happen. Screw the books. It’s happened time after time. And more times than I want to remember, you run into zones of radio silence. The radio just quits working.”

“Component failure?”

“No way. The set works. It gets power. It works, but it just doesn’t do anything.”

“You’ve always come back, Al.” He laughed as Dickensen rapped his knuckles on his desk. “Ever lose anybody in the same area?”

The man sobered. “I’ve known five pilots personally who ran into some sort of shit down there and . . . well, I don’t know what happened to them, but they disappeared. And we never found a trace of anything or anybody.”

“But you still fly down there.”

“Fenton, they killed forty-seven thousand people on the highways last year. You still drive, don’t you?”

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