“Okay, and what about the original discovery?”
“It was gone. All evidence of the structure had disappeared.”
The word ‘structure’ wasn’t lost on Sam. She was letting him know what was really there in 1906, before the Tunguska event.
“So, the Russian delegate and our own at the time, signed a contract. Agreeing to never speak of it again, until it no longer mattered. So, all the documents about what happened were buried in a top secret archive, not to be opened for more than a hundred years.”
“It must be close to opening? It’s been more than a hundred years. You should have access to it?”
“Well Sam, that’s just it. The Tunguska File is set to be released in exactly two weeks from now. I don’t know what it was really about, but given the date, I would strongly advise you find Dr. Swan and Atlantis before that file becomes public knowledge.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Siberia occupies about 5.2 million square miles, corresponding roughly to 9 percent of Earth's dry land mass. It is bounded by the Ural Mountains in the west and by the Pacific Ocean in the east. To the south lies central Asia, Mongolia, and China, and to the north, the Arctic Ocean.
Lake Cheko is a small freshwater lake in Siberia, near the Podkamennaya Tunguska River, thought by many to have been formed by a meteor that caused the otherwise unexplained Tunguska event – but all attempts to examine the lake have failed to prove it had any connection to a meteor that fell in 1908.
Somewhere in the middle of this giant landmass of snow and ice, a Russian-built, gigantic all-terrain vehicle known as a "Kharkovchanka," and built to conquer the Arctic and the Antarctic Circle, rolled toward a new history. Its truly gargantuan scale did not prevent it from moving at 30 miles an hour, and climbing 40 degree inclines.
“Where the hell did you get this monster from?” Tom asked.
Sam considered how much he should say. Then, trying to keep it to the simple facts, said, “Genevieve once knew a guy in Russia. Let’s just say their love parted, and he stayed there, while she joined our crew on board the Maria Helena. He owed her a favor, and she owes me several – so now we’re even.”
The massive snow machine drove onwards, while Sam tried to guide it toward the little dot on his GPS that represented Lake Cheko. Its massive tank tracks continued to turn effortlessly through the complete whiteout known as Siberia’s winter landscape of snow tundra. It turned to the right, skipping the deepest section of a snow-buried river. Slowly, its tracks turned as they dropped toward the river’s stony bed, and then up the 30-degree incline on the other side.
On the other side, Sam drove the snow machine through another series of ragged and struggling pine trees until he reached the crest of another hill. Through the opening of their heated windscreen a world made entirely of white came into view. Sam looked slightly perplexed. He tentatively scanned the GPS. They were close. And then he gently moved the throttle for the right tank tracks into forward.
The massive snow machine turned on its axis to the left, presenting him with another hill to climb. He put the engine into low gear and crept upwards at a 40-degree incline – nearing the maximum capabilities of the machine. As Sam reached the top of the hill, his view of the sky ahead was replaced by his first vision of Lake Cheko. It was a small bowl-shaped lake, roughly 2500 feet long and 11,000 feet wide. As with the rest of the landscape, its surface was frozen solid. It would have been easy to drive across it, missing it entirely, although the Kharkovchanka’s 38 tons would have most likely prevented them surviving the crossing. A dilapidated wire fence barred their way. Its purpose left no doubt with a sign that read, Stay Out – Or You will be Shot on Sight.
“The fence doesn’t appear well maintained given the importance of this site.”
“Perhaps it’s no longer valuable?”
“And perhaps this is all a lie?”
“I’m sure it is. But whose lie?”
Sam left the question alone and continued to drive toward the lake’s outer edge. Mindful that his Kharkovchanka would crash through the ice, he left himself ample distance as he parked.
“It doesn’t look very big,” Tom pointed out.
“No, I’d say it would be pretty hard to hide anything substantial inside that for a number of years.”
“Like Atlantis?”
“Yeah, that seems impossible to me.”
“So then, what are we doing here, Sam?”
Sam scanned the lake again and then with a confidence he didn’t quite feel said, “Oh, something’s here all right. Billie told us to come here for a reason. If Atlantis isn’t hiding here, I bet you my dad’s Gulfstream, there’s a clue to Atlantis that Billie wants us to find.”
“And the Russians haven’t already found it?”
“No. Whatever it is, the Russians most certainly know about it.”
“So, why not come out with it and tell the world?”
“I have no idea. But there’s only one way to find out.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Covered in Arctic Survival Suits, Sam and Tom stepped out their Kharkovchanka and climbed down the ladder on its side. Sam’s boots sunk into the heavy snow. He then slowly made his way to the back of the massive all-terrain vehicle.
“Hey, the tourist information brochure says Lake Cheko is no more than fifty feet deep,” Tom said.
Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Really, is that what the guide book says? I guess we didn’t have to haul these heavy ass diving suits here, after all.”
Tom laughed as he unlatched the back cover and opened the roller door to the Kharkovchanka, revealing two enormous atmospheric diving suits, which more closely resembled space suits out of a 1960s science fiction movie.
The atmospheric diving suit, or ADS, is a one-person articulated submersible of anthropomorphic form which resembles a suit of armor, with elaborate pressure joints to allow freedom of movement while maintaining an internal pressure of one atmosphere. The ADS can be used for very deep dives of up to 2,300 feet for many hours, and eliminates the majority of physiological dangers associated with deep diving; the occupant need not decompress, there is no need for special gas mixtures, and there is no danger of decompression sickness or nitrogen narcosis.
The two ADS 2030 units sitting on the back of the snow machine were prototype diving suits, based on the ADS 2000, which the U.S. Navy built for submarine rescue. The ADS 2030 provided increased depth capability. Manufactured from forged T6061 aluminum alloy, they used an advanced articulating joint design based on the Newtsuit joints, and were capable of operating in up to 3,000 feet of seawater for a normal mission of up to 48 hours.
It had a self-contained, automatic life support system. It even provided the occupant with food, water and the ability to excrete bodily waste through a system comparable to that used by astronauts. Additionally, the integrated quad thruster system allowed the pilot to navigate easily underwater, while the hydraulic powered limbs allowed equal maneuverability and strength while out of the water.
Sam and Tom removed the two machines from the back of the snow machine and put together a winching system to run their safety lines, so that each of them could be returned to the surface. The device looked like a giant tripod with a large free-turning pulley attached its point with a large bolt, which allowed a safety line to be connected to the snow machine. The two men quickly put the system together and then attached themselves to a safety line, which in turn was attached to the automatic winch at the front of the snow machine. They then walked along the hardened ice surface of the lake. The three sharp bases of the tripod slid along the ice like skates.
Sam held out a GPS in his hand and watched as it picked up more than six satellites, providing it with the maximum accuracy. Satisfied that he was directly over the coordinates that Billie had left them Sam began to screw a round hook into the ice. “Okay, this is the spot.”
Tom stepped forward and attached the second tether to the hook. Waiting for the automatic winch to take up
some tension with the ice, he started his power saw. “Here goes.”
In a slow and definitive motion Tom cut four lines in the foot-thick ice. Despite his cutting through it, the ice remained solid.
Sam looked at him. “You ready for me to start the winch?”
“Go for it.”
Sam switched the remote control and the tether began to slowly furl. A moment later the ice pulled free, leaving an opening into the dark blue water eight feet by eight feet. The large square block stood on the water’s edge and together, the two men were able to push it to the side, allowing a clear run for any cable from the opening.
Tom, focused on the plan, immediately began bolting the base of the tripod to the sheet of ice. He then tested it with the strength of his arms. Satisfied it would hold, the two returned to the snow machine to be suited up.
Thirty minutes later, each man was fully integrated within his ADS and ready to discover whatever was waiting for them in the depths of Lake Cheko.
“Tom, how do you read me?” Sam asked through the clear transmission of the advanced communications system.
“Loud and clear.”
“Then let’s go get whatever the hell it is Billie wants us to find so we can get out of these damn atmospheric suits. I feel like the Michelin Man!”
Chapter Forty-Six
Sam stepped forward with his large mechanical leg and into the hole they’d created in the ice. His ADS machine was set to positive buoyancy so that he floated more like a boat, with his spherical helmet remaining above the ice cold water.
Checking his internal instruments, he gave the ‘all clear’ signal to Tom. “Okay, I’m descending to ten feet to perform the first set of underwater safety checks.”
“Understood, I’ll follow when you confirm all systems functioning.”
Sam decreased his buoyancy by letting more water into his internal chambers, the same way a conventional submarine manages buoyancy. Likewise, when he wanted to increase buoyancy, he would simply blow out the excess water.
His ADS machine quickly sank to ten feet, where he then balanced the system until he came to a neutral stop. Below the ice, the world turned blue. It was frightening in its rich beauty and lethal environment. Here, any malfunction in their equipment would result in their deaths. No one knew they were here, and even if they did, nothing could be done to rescue them if something went wrong.
Sam paused for a moment and let the thought run through his mind while he enjoyed the surreal view.
He adjusted his position mildly. With each movement, he checked the responsiveness of the individual articulations of his machine. It was relatively simple to use, and as with normal diving, only took a short while to get the hang of maintaining neutral buoyancy. Happy with the controls, he began running a systems check on everything else.
Depth: 10 feet.
Distance to the bottom: 45 feet.
Air supply: 48 hours remaining – although he knew this number would rapidly change depending on his depth.
Power: 6000 Amp Hours.
External temperature: 34 degrees Fahrenheit.
Internal temperature: 80 degrees Fahrenheit – Sam carefully adjusted the thermostat, reducing it to a more comfortable 74 degrees. Ice diving always tempted him to set it higher than he needed.
“Okay, all’s good here. Are you ready to go find out what’s so important about this place?”
“Sure am. Here’s to beating Billie to Atlantis!”
Above him, Sam saw the still surface of the water below the ice sheets turn white with bubbles. The lake appeared upset by the disturbance, as though somehow its perfect, deathly peace, had been interrupted by the presence of a functioning machine.
Tom maintained his position on the surface for a few moments and then sunk to Sam’s depth. He then rotated his position so that he was almost lateral, looking back up at the frozen world above the ice. “That’s one hell of a view!”
“You can say that again, Tom.”
Sam continued to enjoy it, while Tom ran his system checks. A few minutes later he said, “I’m good. Shall we go find our answers?”
“Let’s. I don’t like the idea of becoming entombed below this ice if we spend too long down here. So let’s not dawdle too much.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Tom replied. “Preferably something warm and alcoholic.”
Sam laughed. “I’m sure we can find you just such a drink in Siberia.”
They slowly descended to 45 feet where the ground came up to come up to meet them. Sam stopped five feet above the sediment. “Do you see anything?”
“Nothing more than the bottom of an ice cold lake,” Tom said stopping next to him. “It doesn’t make sense. How can they hide anything in 45 feet of water?”
“Maybe that fence did a really good job to keep people out?”
“Not for over a hundred years it didn’t. If Atlantis is here, then someone would have noticed by now. Heck, even our guys wouldn’t have been able to keep that one secret.”
Sam lowered his ADS machine to the ground. It seemed unsteady, almost wobbly. Tom followed. Both men tried to take sediment samples. It would have been strong enough to support a SCUBA diver, but the heavy ADS had more momentum. Something felt wrong. Sam decreased his buoyancy and the unstable ground began to feel more like a giant trampoline.
Beneath his helmet, Sam grinned. “It’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?”
“I can’t believe they got away with it for so long!”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sam put his ADS machine to maximum negative buoyancy and then jumped. The ground shook beneath him. Because of the years of sediment built up, it was hard to tell if it was in his mind or not, but then he realized with surprise that it moved. Not much, but it was enough to confirm his theory.
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“See for yourself. Reduce your buoyancy, and then try jumping, and you’ll see it!”
A few moments later, Tom jumped. Then he jumped again. By the third time, he stopped and looked at Sam. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. They covered the lake to create a false bottom?”
“It would appear so,” Sam replied. “The question is, to hide what?”
“Well, we’re not going to get any answers jumping on it. Let’s get rid of this sediment and work out how we’re going to cut whatever it is.”
“Good idea.”
Together they used a powerful suction device to clear a way through the sediment the way a dredging ship removes a sandbar or maintains the depth of a shipping lane. It took more than an hour, and seven feet of soil, before they reached it.
Sam examined the material at the bottom of the hole they’d just created. It was made of some sort of thick synthetic polyurethane material. The thing even looked like a giant tarpaulin or trampoline. Whatever it was, it definitely hadn’t formed naturally at the bottom of the lake.
“Any idea what that is, Tom?”
“No idea, but I have an idea that this rotary saw will fix it.”
Tom moved the extension arm forward into the hole until its rotating saw began to cut through the material. It was tougher than he expected, but once the saw picked up speed, it sliced it open. A moment later, a gap was created that was large enough for both of them to swim through. Large amounts of surrounding sediment fell through the new opening.
“Tom, I think we’re about to find some answers.”
“I just hope they were meant to be found.”
“I can’t answer that, but this is where Billie sent us.”
They sunk through the opening and found a dark world – untouched by humans for nearly a hundred years.
Sam’s depth reading showed the true bottom of the lake as nearly 500 feet deep. “That’s more like the sort of place I would say Atlantis may remain hidden for many, many years.”
“500 feet is a little more serious. Even though the ADS machine is made for it, we’re leaving very little room for error if som
ething goes wrong.”
The two men, feeling more like astronauts in their ADS machines, sunk into the hole of their creation, and into a new world. It was dark. A place that hadn’t seen the light of day for many years. There was no marine life to be seen. Sam shined his powerful shoulder-mounted flashlight around the new ceiling. Although the material was certainly much stronger than a tarpaulin, from beneath there was little to differentiate the two.
Tom looked at the predicted maximum duration of his life support system. A simple number on the side of his mechanical left forearm.
It read: 47 hours and 5 minutes.
“So, now we’re below a manmade fake lake bottom constructed of sediment and some sort of polyurethane, which in itself is below more than a foot of frozen ice… and we want to go down there?”
“It’s either that, or you can explain to Billie why we didn’t follow her direction to Atlantis and save her?”
Tom didn’t reply.
“I think your girlfriend would be pissed off.”
“Billie’s not my girlfriend. But you’re right, she’d be pissed – let’s go find whatever the hell she sent us here to get and then get as far away as possible from this place.”
Sam shifted his ADS into a controlled dive, and then asked, “Billie’s not your girlfriend?”
“No.”
Sam was going to say something and then thought better of it.
They descended another hundred feet, and the place had the dark appearance of another world. Yet, unlike many other places in which Sam had dived, this one seemed to be entirely lacking in any marine life.
At three hundred feet Tom said, “Billie’s amazing. I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d let me. The trouble is, she has no interest in it. She’s focused on something else, which she has no desire to tell me about. But like the Master Builders and yourself, she can’t truly commit to anything or anyone, until she finds the answer to whatever question seems to have eluded her since she was a child.”
Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) Page 14