Lost Empire fa-2

by Clive Cussler

  “Also, I e-mailed a photo of the codex bush to a curator at the Cibodas Botanical Gardens in Jakarta. He thinks it could be a dwarf durian tree. I pressed him a little, and he thought it was probable the durian had migrated from east to west, which would have put it in Sulawesi about sixteen hundred years ago.”“Fantastic,” Sam said absently. “Can you get to Google Earth?”

  “Hold on. Okay, I’m ready.”

  Sam gave her a set of latitude and longitude points. “Zoom in until that island fills most of your screen.”

  “Done.”

  “Does that shape remind you of anything? Imagine those erosion ridges deeper.”

  “I don’t see what . . . Oh!” Selma was silent for a few beats. “Sam, that looks like the Chicomoztoc illustration writ large.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s just a coincidence. It has to be.”

  “Maybe, but it’s in the northeast part of the island-the same place all your experts mentioned. Even if it’s not Chicomoztoc, I think I can convince Rivera to buy into it.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll figure that out when I’m in front of him. Selma, I need you to get me to Sulawesi. And then I need you to get me a seaplane.”

  CHAPTER 46

  SOUTHERN SULAWESI

  SAM EASED THE IKARUS INTO A GENTLE BANK AND STARTED BLEEDING off altitude in preparation for landing. Below and to the right, the airstrip emerged out of the haze. Sam lined the nose up with it, then dropped through a layer of clouds, made a few final adjustments, and touched down. He taxied toward the trio of Quonset huts at the edge of the tarmac and followed the hand signals of a ground-crew member to the fuel pumping station. Sam powered down the Ikarus and climbed out. As Selma had already done the legwork, Sam had but to sign a form. He did this, then walked around the edge of the hut. He dialed star six-nine.“You’re cutting it close,” said Rivera.

  “I’ve only got sixty seconds or so left on this phone. Are you at the spot yet?”

  “We’re ten minutes away.”

  “Let me talk to my wife.”

  “Tell me the location of Chicomoztoc, and I’ll do that.”

  “Not until I’m standing in front of her.”

  “You’re pushing your luck,” Rivera said.

  “And you’ve already tipped your hand. You said it yourself: You’re not going to let us live. You want Chicomoztoc, then these are my terms. Put her on.”

  Remi’s voice came on the line. “Sam?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Where are you?”

  “Close. Hang in there.”

  Rivera came back on. “We’ll be waiting.”

  The line went dead.

  TEN MINUTES LATER he was back in the air and heading southeast toward Selayar Island. Another twenty minutes, and he was again dropping through the clouds. Below, the sea was a flat blue. He leveled off at two thousand feet and followed the coastline until the southern tip of the island came into view. He put the Ikarus down a few hundred yards offshore and taxied toward the beach. Sitting on the side of a dirt road was a pair of Isuzu SUVs. As the Ikarus’s skids scraped the sand, the doors to the SUVs opened and out stepped Rivera, Remi, and the three men from Pulau Legundi.Sam shut down the engine, climbed out onto the pontoon, and plodded ashore.

  “Check him,” Rivera ordered. One of the men frisked Sam, then stepped back and shook his head. “Search the plane, too.”

  Sam said, “I’d like to hug my wife.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Sam let Remi come forward, hoping Rivera would let her out of earshot. It wasn’t to be. “That’s far enough,” he called.

  Sam and Remi embraced. He whispered, “Take the number three seat. Grab the sleeping bag and be ready.”

  Despite the cryptic nature of the message, Remi simply replied, “Okay.”

  They separated. Sam gave her a reassuring smile, then she stepped back to Rivera’s side. The man Rivera had sent to search the plane waded ashore. “There’s nothing aboard. No weapons. Just some sleeping bags, blankets, and camping gear.” Sam said, “In case we have to stay overnight.”“That’s a relic of a plane,” said Rivera. “Are you sure it will get us where we’re going?”

  “Not even remotely,” Sam replied, “but it’s what you get for a twenty-four-hour deadline. We can cancel the trip if you’d like.”

  “No, we’re going.”

  “I can only carry three of you.”

  “Fine. What’s our destination?”

  “A bay on the eastern coast. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t even have a name. It’ll take us two and a half hours.”

  “If anyone is waiting for us, I’ll shoot you both.”

  “And die in the resulting crash,” Sam replied. “I have to admit that has a certain appeal.”

  “I can fly a plane as well as you can fly a helicopter. Let’s get moving.”

  SAM SHOULD HAVE COMPENSATED for the Ikarus’s edge. It was closer to three hours before the coastline appeared through the windshield. Sam put the plane through an abbreviated checklist and began his descent. He banked gently to the north and pointed the nose at the mouth of the crescent-shaped bay. In the rear seat beside Remi-who, as instructed, had taken the seat behind Sam’s-Rivera leaned forward for a better view.“It’s a small bay,” he remarked.

  “A quarter-mile wide at the mouth and three-quarters of a mile at its widest. Six islands.”

  “And you’re sure Chicomoztoc is one of them?”

  “I never said I was sure. It’s my best guess based on everything we know. You seem to be forgetting that we managed to do in a few weeks what you couldn’t accomplish in almost a decade.”

  “Belated congratulations,” said Rivera. “How did you find it?” “Long story, but in a minute you’ll see what put the frosting on the cake. The question is, will you recognize it?”As Sam dropped the Ikarus through a thousand feet, they passed between the headlands and into the bay.

  “Where is it?” Rivera asked.

  “Patience.”

  A minute later Sam turned the nose slightly off center to let the thickly forested island pass beneath the starboard wing. “Out the side window,” he said.

  Rivera leaned sideways and looked down. “This is it?” he asked incredulously. “It’s tiny.”

  “Three hundred yards across and two hundred feet off the water.”

  “It’s not big enough to be an island.”

  “An islet, then. Either way, it’s what you’ve been looking for.”

  “Why is the center concave?”

  “It’s called a caldera. You’re looking at an extinct volcano,” replied Sam. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?”

  “Remi?”

  With a nod of approval from Rivera, Remi leaned over his shoulder and looked out the window.

  Sam said, “Squint. Think ‘big hollowed-out flower.’”

  A beaming smile spread across Remi’s face. “Sam, you found it.”

  “We’ll soon find out. Do you see it yet, Rivera?”

  “No.”

  “You’re familiar with the traditional illustration depicting Chicomoztoc? Imagine that illustration viewed from above. Now imagine the points of the island rounded and more pronounced.”After a few moments Rivera murmured, “I see it. Amazing. Amazing! Take us down!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, damn it, take us down!”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Passing through two hundred feet, Sam banked the Ikarus one last time, following the bay’s western shoreline until the plane’s nose was again pointed north. Thirty seconds later, the pontoons kissed the surface; the Ikarus’s fuselage shivered and the windows rattled. Sam kept a slightly nose-up attitude, bumping over the surface as his speed bled off.He watched the needle drop to sixty knots, then fifty. When it slid past forty knots, he said, “Remi, how many sleeping bags do we have?”

  She leaned forward in her seat, picked up the pile of
bags, and placed them in her lap. “I’ve got three.”

  “And I’ve got one,” Sam replied, pointing to the bag stuffed between his seat and the passenger seat. “Rivera, how many do you have?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Sam’s eyes flicked to the dashboard. The needle hit thirty-five knots. He turned toward the man in the passenger seat. “How about you?”

  The man opened his mouth to reply but the words never came out. In one fluid motion, Sam dropped his right hand diagonally down, punched the man’s seat-belt release, then grabbed the sleeping bag, brought it to his chest, and shoved the stick forward.The Ikarus nosed over and slammed into the water.

  CHAPTER 47

  HAVING NEVER INTENTIONALLY CRASH-LANDED BEFORE, SAM had a plan that was a combination of gut instinct and a fair grasp of physics. Traveling at thirty knots-roughly thirty-four miles per hour-the Ikarus had enough kinetic energy to throw everyone inside violently forward against their seat belts but not enough to throw the seaplane into a nose-over-tail tumble.The impact was also enough to rip the passenger seat and the seat behind it free of the mounts that Sam had preloosened before leaving the airstrip.

  Rivera’s man in the passenger seat, already unbelted, was driven headfirst into the windshield, snapping his neck and killing him. Rivera, still belted in, flew forward and slammed into the back of the passenger seat, while Sam, clutching the sleeping bag in front of his face and chest, smashed into the dashboard. In the backseat Remi’s impact was cushioned by two sleeping bags. She was the first to regain consciousness after the impact.

  SHE RELEASED HER BELT and heaved herself forward between the seats. She grabbed Sam by the shoulders and eased him backward. Water was gushing into the cabin through the hole left in the windshield by Rivera’s man. Already nose down in the water, the Ikarus began tipping forward under the weight of its engine, lifting the tail from the water.“Sam!” Remi shouted. “Sam!”

  His eyes snapped open. He blinked a few times, looked around. “Did it work?” he asked.

  “We’re both alive. I’d call that a success.”

  “What about Rivera?”

  Remi looked at Rivera, who lay slumped forward, bent at the waist.

  “Unconscious or dead. I don’t know and I don’t care. We need to think about leaving, Sam.”

  “How about right now?”

  “Great!”

  Sam braced his feet against the dashboard, fighting gravity, then punched the button to release his seat belt. He tried his door. It didn’t budge. He tried again. “My door’s jammed. Try Rivera’s door.”

  “He’s blocking it.” Sam pressed with his legs and arched his back, sliding his upper body into the backseat. “Get his belt.” Remi hit the release. Rivera slid forward into Sam’s outstretched hands. He let gravity do the rest, and Rivera tumbled headfirst onto the remains of the passenger seat and his dead friend.Remi crawled across the seat and grabbed the door handle. “Are you ready?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  “Deep breath!”

  SHE MUSCLED THE DOOR OPEN. A column of water surged into the cabin. They let the cabin fill up, then Remi shoved off and swam out. Sam was halfway out the door when he stopped and turned back. He kicked into the front seat and started probing the floorboard with his hands. Under the dead man’s left boot Sam found what he was looking for: the semiautomatic pistol the man had been holding. He tucked it into his belt.He made his way back out and kicked for the surface. He broke into the air beside Remi. Ten feet to their right the plane’s tail was jutting straight out of the water.

  “It’s not going down,” Remi said.

  “Probably a pocket of air in the tail. I’m going back down to see what I can salvage. My plan didn’t include that part. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  Sam took in a lungful of air, flipped over, and dove. His outstretched hand found the leading edge of the wing, and he pulled himself across the fuselage, then down into the doorway.He stopped.

  Rivera was gone. Sam looked into the tail section, saw nothing, and checked the front seat again. He saw movement out of the corner of his right eye and turned his head. A shadow rushed toward his face. He felt something hard strike his forehead. Pain flashed behind his eyes, and everything went dark.“SAM!” HE HEARD DISTANTLY. The voice faded, then returned. “Sam!”

  He felt hands on his face. He knew that touch: Remi. He forced his eyes open. She was leaning over him, her auburn hair dripping onto his face. She smiled. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Very funny. None. I’m okay. Help me sit up.”“Just stay there. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead.”

  “Rivera . . . Where is-”

  “I’m here, Mr. Fargo.”

  Sam tilted his head backward. An upside-down Rivera was sitting ten feet up the black-sand beach. “Damn,” Sam muttered. “I’ll give you this much, Rivera, you’re one tough bastard.”

  Sam forced himself up onto his elbows, then sat upright with Remi’s help. He turned around. Rivera was in tough shape; his nose was broken, one of his eyes swollen shut, and his lower lip was split. The gun in his right hand was held in a rock-steady grip, however.Rivera said, “And you’re too clever for your own good. As soon as you’re feeling better I’m going to kill you and your wife.”

  “I may have tried to kill you, but I didn’t lie about this place. I could still be wrong, but I don’t think so.”

  “Fine. I’ll kill you both, then find the entrance myself. The island isn’t that big.”

  “It doesn’t look big now, but once you get into that jungle it’ll suddenly get a lot bigger. It would take you months to find it.”

  “And how long for you?”

  Sam checked his watch. “Eight hours from the time we get into the caldera.”

  “Why that number?”

  “Just a guess.”

  “Are you stalling for time?”

  “That’s part of it. Also, we want to find Chicomoztoc as much as you do. Maybe more. We’ve just got a different motive than you do.”

  “I’ll give you four hours.” Rivera stood up.

  Remi helped Sam to his feet. He leaned on her as though dizzy. “Headache,” he said loudly, then whispered in Remi’s ear: “I had a gun.”

  She smiled. “You did. I have it now.”

  “Waistband?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you get a chance, shoot him.”

  “Gladly.”

  “I’ll try to distract him.”

  HAVING TOUGHENED THEMSELVES over the past few weeks, first on Madagascar, then on Pulau Legundi, Sam and Remi found the hike up the island’s forested slope relatively easy. Rivera, however, was struggling. His broken nose forced him to breathe through his mouth, and he was now limping. Still, his years as a soldier were shining through. He kept pace with them, keeping ten feet between them and his gun.

  At last they reached the top. Below them, the caldera’s slopes dropped a hundred feet to the valley floor. The bowl shape, having acted as a rain funnel for centuries, had caused the trees and vegetation to grow faster than their cousins on the exterior.“What now?” asked Rivera.

  Sam turned around in a circle, orienting himself. “My compass was in the plane, so I have to estimate this . . .” Sam walked to the right, picking his way through the trees for another fifty feet, then stopped. “It should be right about here.”“Here?”

  “Below us.”

  “Explain.”

  “Right after which you shoot us. No thank you.”

  Rivera’s mouth tightened in a thin line. His eyes never leaving Sam’s, Rivera shifted his gun slightly right and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched through Remi’s left leg. She screamed and collapsed. Rivera shifted the gun back onto Sam, stopping him in midstep.“Let me help her,” Sam said.

  Rivera glanced at Remi. His eyes narrowed. He limped over to where she was lying, crouched down, and picked up the pistol that had fallen from Remi’s waistband. Rivera ste
pped back. “You can help her now.”

  Sam rushed to her side. She gripped his hand hard, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Sam patted his pockets, came up with a bandanna, and pressed it against the wound.Rivera said, “Do I have your full attention now?”

  “Yes, damn it.”

  “The bullet hit her in the quadriceps muscle. She won’t bleed to death, and, providing she doesn’t stay out here more than a couple days, there’s not much chance of infection. Between these two guns I’ve got thirty more rounds. Start cooperating or I’ll keep shooting.”

  CHAPTER 48

  THEY MADE THEIR WAY DOWN TO THE VALLEY FLOOR, SAM IN THE lead with Remi cradled in his arms and Rivera trailing behind. They found a small clearing in the approximate center of the bowl, and Sam laid Remi down. Rivera sat down on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing. His gun never wavering from Sam’s chest, Rivera lifted his shirt up; on the left side of his abdomen was a black softball-sized bruise.“That looks painful,” Sam said.

  “It’s just a bruise.”

  Sam knelt beside Remi. He lifted the bandanna on her thigh. The bleeding had slowing to a trickle. He whispered, “Rivera’s bleeding internally.”

  Through clenched teeth Remi asked, “How bad?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Stall until he keels over dead.” “I’ll try.”

  “Stop your whispering!” Rivera barked. “Move away from her.” Sam complied. “Tell me your theory about the entrance.”

  Sam hesitated.

  Rivera pointed the gun at Remi.

  “It’s based on the illustrations,” Sam said. “Chicomoztoc is always a cavern with seven smaller caves around it . . . like a flower. The cavern is beneath a mountain. The drawings vary, but the big details are the same-including the location of the entrance.”“At the bottom,” Rivera said.

  “Right. But if I’m right and this is the place, it means the exterior shape of the island was as important to them as the interior.”