“How the hell should I know? But she’s left the GPS coordinates, so we better head off so we can beat them to it.”
Sam turned to head for the entrance of the cavern, but something stopped him. He looked at the pile of orichalcum. A fortune left in the ancient library. It would be worthless in a few weeks if he couldn’t solve the puzzle.
Below them, the ground shook with the vibrations of a sound coming from outside.
“Can you hear that?” Sam asked.
“Sounds like the roar of thunder.”
Sam looked to the edge of the opening, where the Sherpas had started to scatter.
“Do you think it’s an avalanche?” Tom suggested.
Sam listened more intensely to the sound for a moment. “That’s crazy. It doesn’t sound anything like an avalanche. Those are clearly helicopter rotors. Given our high altitude, I’d say they come from a pair of B3 Eurocopters.”
“Which means someone’s followed us!”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Andrew Brandt watched the two Sherpas, the mountain goats of the Himalayas, scatter, leaving their equipment where they were on the mountain side.
“I don’t see them,” he said to the pilot.
“Keep looking. Those Sherpas weren’t going for a climbing holiday on their own,” Dmitri replied. “Those were the two I left looking after Sam Reilly. They must have entered the temple.”
The two men scanned the mountain.
“There!” Dmitri said. “Look at that overhanging rock. It must have an opening – there are footprints in the snow leading into it.”
“If they’ve gone in, they must come back out. Just hover here for a few minutes.”
“I can’t stay long at this altitude,” Dmitri said.
“All right. We can’t wait all day. Everyone off. We’re going in to get them.”
One by one, they dropped off the helicopter’s skids while the pilot hovered, and onto the thick snow on the mountain three feet below them, followed by the soldiers in the second helicopter. He wanted to take no chances. He’d heard of Sam and his friend’s reputation as excellent fighters. There was no way he wanted this to be a fair fight. And for that, he needed to outnumber them.
He looked at the leader of his commando team. “Aiden. Take three men and get me a reconnaissance of that entry. If you find resistance, take cover and hold your position.”
“Understood.”
The three-man team quietly entered the secret opening to the Atlantean temple.
Minutes later the opening turned to rubble along with the sound of a loud explosion. Andrew jammed his ice axe into the mountainside and took cover in the snow. Twenty feet away, the two helicopters, concerned about avalanches, quickly backed away from the face of the mountain.
Snow fell, but no avalanche followed.
Seconds later, Andrew heard the sound of machine gun fire. But he couldn’t tell whether it was coming from his own commandos or someone else.
Aiden returned, blood dripping from the back of his head and burns to his face.
“They fucking have the place booby-trapped!” Aiden swore.
“We need to storm that temple. What have we got when we enter?”
“You have a hole that is completely dark. A cavern that echoes, which suggests that it’s quite large. I didn’t see them, but they must have seen us, because they killed Frankie and Mitchell. Then the next thing I know they’re using an AK47 on me, probably stolen from my own men!”
“What do you need to extract them?”
“Alive?”
“Yes. At least one of them. Preferably Sam Reilly, but his friend must know something.”
“We’d need a miracle. We can do it, but it’s going to cost us in men.”
Andrew looked at his men, checking their weapons. “Okay, do it.”
One of his soldiers passed him a cell phone. He really hated the damn technology.
“Tell them I’m busy.”
“I think you’re gonna want to take this one boss. He says that he has Dr. Billie Swan.”
Andrew looked at his commando. The man was serious. Andrew reached out and snatched the cell phone.
“Andrew speaking.”
“Morning, boss.”
“I thought you were dead. Actually, when you lost the girl, and then stopped answering my calls, I kind of hoped you were dead, for your sake.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been busy. But all will be forgiven once you hear what I have for you.”
“What have you got for me?”
“Dr. Billie Swan. And half of the Code to Atlantis.”
“Christ. I thought she’d deciphered the damn thing. What the hell good is half of the code?”
“None, but she’s about to retrieve the second half. It was apparently broken up into two separate codes, and then stored in two Atlantean temples to protect it.”
“Do you know where the second one is?”
“Congo. Somewhere in the Heart of Darkness.”
Andrew signaled to one of his soldiers for a pen and paper. “Do you know where exactly?”
“No, but I’m still part of the team. I’ll let you know once they’ve found it.”
“Good. Let them solve the mysteries of the second Atlantean temple. Better they risk their lives than me. Once you have answers, send me your coordinates, and we’ll bring a retrieval team in to get the rest of the code.”
Andrew passed the cell phone back, a giant smile on his sinister face.
“What you smiling at?” Aiden said.
“Because we no longer have any reason to keep Sam Reilly and his companion alive.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sam quickly studied the back of the Atlantean temple.
All the tunnels seemed to have reached an end. And there was little that either of them could do to maintain their position against the significantly more powerful team of mercenaries after them.
Turning to examine the final cavern, Sam said, “We know Billie was here before us. There was no one else on the face of the mountain when we climbed it. We must have only just missed her?”
Tom pulled his Glock out and prepared to fire at anyone who came through the cavern. “Possibly, but sorry to say this pal, I don’t think she’s coming back to save our asses.”
“No, it’s not that. She must have been here in the last day or two. And yet, we didn’t see her or whoever has her leave, which means…”
Tom smiled. Realization dawning on him. “The people outside aren’t the ones who took her?”
“The thought’s crossed my mind, but I don’t think so. I think she beat us all to it, and that whoever’s outside is also searching for Atlantis. And if they didn’t find Billie, that means there’s definitely another exit!”
“Of course!” Tom Said “When I read Plato’s ancient Critias Dialogue, it noted that the Atlanteans built rings within rings of defensive structures so that retreat was possible. It was one of the reasons Billie believed that Amsterdam was related to the descendants of Atlantis. We know that’s not true now, but one thing’s for certain – if the survivors of Atlantis built this place, as an archive to their history, then they must have built in an escape tunnel.”
Several shots raked the walls of the cavern behind them.
Sam looked up to see that the first soldiers were entering the far side of the cave. “That’s great. But if you’re right, we’d better find it soon, because whoever the hell’s trying to come in here, they don’t sound like they’re friendly.”
Sam started to quickly examine the walls, pressing rocks, pulling on things, and then he saw it. A slight change in the sand. “Look at that. It’s as though someone has recently dragged something along the sand. Help me dig this up.”
Tom dug his climbing pick into the sand and caught something solid. He struck it again, and again. On the third attempt, the head of his climbing pick caught. Using the back of the handle, he was able to lever the entire rock structure out, and pull it to the side o
f the cavern.
Revealing a black abyss.
The air that now flowed upwards towards them was warm.
“What do you think?”
“It’s a priest hole.”
“What the hell’s a priest hole?”
“An escape route, built into the original design of the cave system.”
A small metallic device on tractor wheels slowly entered the room. Like a sinister robot, the machine drove toward them.
“What’s that?”
“Some sort of Remote Controlled Vehicle. They’re finding exactly where we’re hiding!”
Sam looked down the hole. It went straight down. A strong draft flowed from below when he opened it, suggesting that it opened to the outside world, somewhere.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s just as likely to drop us off the cliff somewhere. Maybe an ancient privy?”
The distinct sound of several grenades being thrown into the cavern stopped their conversation.
“I’d say it’s our best chance,” Sam said.
And then dropped – into the darkness below.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Congo Rainforest – Two Weeks Remaining
The Andre Sephora was a 120-foot custom built Millennium Superyacht. Powered by three Vericor TF50 gas turbines, its triple Rolls-Royce Kamewa water jets allowed the luxurious vessel to cruise at sustained speeds of up to 60 knots along the Congo River. It wasn’t the fastest superyacht in existence, but it was by far the quickest equipped with military grade armor plating and an automated defense system, operating four separate Gatling guns and one antiaircraft rocket launcher.
The Congo River is the second largest river in the world after the Amazon. Inhabited by humans for more than fifty thousand years, the Congo Basin spans across six countries—Cameroon, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Republic of the Congo, Equatorial Guinea and Gabon. The Congo, a place of brutality and violence for its past – the days of the Arab slave and ivory trade, its long history of tribal warfare, and its present – the ethnic violence and massacres of today. The Congo has suffered horribly throughout its history, and due to generations of foreign exploitation, political instability, corruption and civil war, not to mention a prevalence of crocodiles, hippos, waterfalls and huge rapids, the river seems to have been given a wide berth by Westerners. Subsequently, few archeological expeditions have ever ventured deep into its rainforest.
The entire Congo basin is populated by Bantu peoples, divided into several hundred ethnic or tribal groups. Bantu expansion is estimated to have reached the Middle Congo by about 500 BC, and the Upper Congo by the beginning of the Common Era. Remnants of the aboriginal population displaced by the Bantu migration remain in the remote forest areas of the Congo basin. The oldest of all of these are the pygmies, the most ancient hunter gatherers of the Congo rainforest. No one knows for certain how many remain, as their ancient way of life allows them to survive in otherwise inaccessible areas of the remote jungle. This has permitted many of their tribes to live in secret, away from westernized ideologies.
It was the pygmies, the most ancient of these hunter gathers, who most interested Dr. Billie Swan. Based on the markings on the roof of the Tibetan Atlantean temple, one such group of pygmies held the key to the remaining half of the code to Atlantis.
The Mankan pygmies were said to be the most ancient, ruthless, and powerful in all of Africa, having inhabited the region for more than fifty thousand years. If anyone witnessed the coming of the people of Atlantis eleven thousand years ago, it would have been them.
Made inaccessible by thick rainforest and deep swamps, vast areas of the Congo remain unexplored, with some areas so remote that no maps exist. As a result, the area has been a breeding ground for myth and superstition, with local pygmy tribes telling of a mysterious tribe called the Mankan. Isolation from the outside world was so important to the Mankan people, that legend had it if anyone was caught finding them, they would be killed so as not to reveal their home.
The only problem being, with the exception of the notes within the Atlantean temple, there were no record of the tribe ever existing. Which meant, either they no longer survived, or lived in an area of the Congo Rainforest so remote and in such small numbers, that no Westerner had ever laid eyes on them.
Finding them was a long shot, but it was the only one that remained for Billie.
As the Andre Sephora passed through the mosaic of rivers, forests, savannas, swamps and flooded forests, Dr. Swan was amazed to discover just how vast the Congo Basin was. She’d read it described as the equivalent of navigating the Sahara Desert prior to GPS. As she passed the hundreds of islands, tributaries, and water based villages, she imagined it was easy to become disoriented and lost forever inside its labyrinth.
The river, along with the deep, thick vegetation of the jungle that lined the bank of the river, was teeming with life. The heavyset and somber eyes of gorillas often stared back at her when she stared at the jungle. Buffalo ran wild, and elephants carefully nestled on the banks of the river.
They were approaching the most remote section of the Congo Basin – the entrance to the Luvua River, and outlet of Lake Mweru. As they came around the latest bend in the river, Billie almost gasped when she saw the evidence of the river’s greatest predator – man.
Peppered with waterfalls and rapids, the entrance to the upper river was guarded by abandoned T-62 tanks, littering the hillside by Pweto.
The Andre Sephora slowed to a near stop.
The Luvua landscape was unique. Golden colored grass covered the surrounding hills, dotted with occasional abandoned huts built from volcanic-like rock. Large trees seemed to be covered by giant sheets of white silk blowing in the wind – in fact they were gargantuan house-sized spider webs.
Dr. Swan noticed the three dismembered heads on spikes that littered the bank of the river. They were approaching the most remote traversable section of the river and would soon have to leave the safety of the river and go on foot.
The skipper of the Andre Sephora, Jason Faulkner – a South African who’d made his fortune guiding the ultra-rich through unique African jungle hunting experiences – cautiously slowed the vessel, and moved it toward the southern river bank. There, he examined his most recent map. It was an aerial photograph taken that morning, depicting a section of the river where a route further upriver might just be possible. The river, he knew, was alive, and as such was constantly changing its shape. What was navigable today might not be tomorrow and vice versa.
Dr. Swan watched as the skipper approached a set of rapids. The difference in height of the river was no more than five feet, but it was enough to make it appear impassable to a vessel their size. With the bow of the Andre Sephora pointing directly upriver, she could see two sets of rapids. White and angry water flowed to the left and to the right. At the center, between the two, appeared one constant large rapid. The water was relatively clear, and she could see the bottom was no more than a few feet deep. Much less than the seven-foot draft of the Andre Sephora.
“Is this as far as we can go, Mr. Faulkner?” Edward asked.
Jason picked up the vessel’s radio and spoke quickly in Swahili, the fast monotone language of the Bantu people, and then looked toward Edward. “I wouldn’t worry sir. I have taken care of it.”
Edward stared at the violent opening in the river’s entrance. Wedged between two islands, the water appeared angry as it competed to squeeze through the narrow entrance. “Really! You’re planning on lightening the load, and reducing our draft?”
“No. I’m certain your entire inventory of cargo is important to you. I wouldn’t dare consider forcing you, as a paying customer, to offload anything.”
“How the hell do you expect to pass that then?” Edward asked.
Jason grinned -- a smile that reeked of a lifetime of corruption. “I’m planning on raising the height of the river by another ten feet.”
Chapter Thirty-Fi
ve
Sam Reilly tried to lie back as best he could with his head just off the rock slide as he would if he were on a giant waterslide. At any moment he expected to collide with some type of obstruction in the tunnel. At the speeds he was traveling, it would be a fast death. He lost count of the number of turns the tunnel had sent him on, and then up ahead he saw the faintest glint of light. He slid around the next corner and at the end of it he saw the reflection of filtered light glistening through water.
Striking the water at such a speed, each drop of falling water felt like a needle striking his body, and then he felt the ground below him disappear.
Oh shit – I’ve just gone off a waterfall!
Sam forced his eyes to open and take in his position. He was free falling to the river, nearly forty feet below. Sam struck the water with his feet pointed down, in an attempt to break the surface tension.
Even so, it felt like striking concrete.
His disappeared deep under water.
Sam kicked hard with his legs to reach the surface in the white, frothy water. He’d done enough white water kayaking over the years to know that he’d landed on grade four or five rapids. His legs fought to keep his head above water, intermittently losing the battle as he dropped over another set of sharp river cataracts.
After the third one, the river settled in eddy. With the last strength in his reserves, Sam swam to the bank of the river and looked back toward the latest set of drop offs he’d just survived.
Just in time to catch Tom Bower scream, “Woohoo!” as he fell, too.
Sam watched as his friend casually swam toward him.
“You alive, Tom?”
“Yeah, I think so. Okay, so that’s gotta be included in the next ride at Disneyland!” Tom said.
“Sure – shall we include all the angry people with guns and grenades too?”
Tom looked around.
“I think we’ve lost them. If they do try and follow, I’m pretty certain they won’t be ready with their weapons.”
Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) Page 11