Of all of the crazy conspiracies I’ve investigated, this one seems the least likely. Sure, I’m a nut for the things, but even among conspiracy theorists, there a hierarchy of plausibility. The man on the grassy knoll has always seemed reasonable to me. Area 51, far less plausible. And then there’s the fabrication of the 1969 moon landing, which was proven decades ago as far as I am concerned.
I’ve always figured that the vast majority of the theories are bogus, but if just one of them proves right, and I provide the big reveal, then my future fame and career are assured. But of all the plots and webs I’ve tried to uncover, this one always struck me as bizarre. Still, here I am, rolling down an unmarked dirt road in Esmeralda County, Nevada. I pull up at a rocky outcropping with an inconspicuous hole going down into the ground. I lower myself in. My feet touch down on a smooth metal surface. I shoot my flashlight beam the length of the hull, to a place where ‘THE MINNIE’ is painted in back letters. It’s a yacht. In 1983, The Minnie vanished less than two days after sailing due east from Fort Lauderdale. I take a picture.
I clamber down off the hull and wander deeper into the cave. Already the light beam plays off the distant edges of dozens and dozens of ships and airplanes, and who knows how many skeletons. Fame and fortune, here I come!