The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 2

by Christopher Cartwright

  The advanced global positioning system, based on triangulating satellites to determine exact positions was once considered something akin to science fiction. Modern advances and competition within the automaker industry had placed a similar system inside just about every modern car. And like all computers, they have a memory of where they’ve been.

  Sam pressed recent locations and a list of fifteen GPS coordinates became highlighted. He pressed on the most recent one. He stared at the location as the GPS zoomed into the coordinates. Sam had been there before – it was the Taylor Valley.

  What were they doing there?

  Then the answer came to him. Were they trying to run?

  He scrolled down to the previous coordinates. The location was closer to the coast, but still on the eastern side of the Trans Antarctic Ridge.

  Sam stared at the image of the place. It looked vacant. What did you find there? He took a picture of the rest of the recent locations with his smartphone, but was willing to bet his year’s salary that the second most recent location was the one that counted. He switched off the GPS and shut the diesel down and then stepped inside.

  “I know where they’ve been recently,” Sam said. “I just don’t know what they found there.”

  Alexis looked up at him. The slightest of smiles formed on her beautiful face. “I do. And I think I know why they were murdered.”

  “Really, why?”

  She sighed. “Do you remember me telling you the primary research objective for the Pegasus was to locate an ice tunnel large enough to feasibly house a Massive Hadron Collider?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well. It appears they found the perfect place to build one.”

  “Where?”

  “On the eastern side of the Trans Antarctic Ridge,” she said. “It was beneath the ice flats and less than a hundred miles from the coast. There was just one problem.”

  “And what was that?”

  Alexis stood up and closed the journal. “Someone else had already built a Massive Hadron Collider inside.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Elise stared at the results of the blood test. Every one of them had a large amount of both the narcotic morphine and the sedative midazolam in their system. The biggest guy had a slightly lower amount than the rest. But was that because he’d intentionally dosed himself with a smaller amount, or because he was so damn big the medication had been diluted in his larger blood volume and worn off faster in his system? It was just one more thing that didn’t make any sense in an entire mangled mess of riddles and confusion. The radios were still jammed with the Hungarian song, Gloomy Sunday and so they couldn’t get a message to Sam and Alexis that they were heading for trouble. She’d suggested moving the Antarctic Solace to McMurdo Sound so they could at least reach the Maria Helena and then Tom could take the helicopter out to retrieve them. But Veyron couldn’t get the diesels to start, which meant the Antarctic Solace was stranded – and they were helpless.

  “No good?” Tom asked.

  “They all have drugs in their system. The big guy has a lower ratio of the drugs in his blood. It might have been intentional, or it could have been the side effect of being so damned big.”

  Tom opened another packet of cable ties. “No reason to wait until we find out which one it is. Let’s attach a few more ties to his arms and wrists.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Any idea when our reinforcements are going to get here?”

  Elise shook her head. “Satellite imaging showed they passed Cape Horn yesterday. At a guess I would say they’ll be here by tonight. Do you know who the Secretary of Defense was sending?”

  “No. Sam just said she’d make sure we had reinforcements and that we were to hold the ship, no matter what happens.”

  She watched as Tom bound the giant’s wrists and ankles with another set of cable ties. Elise kept her Uzi pointing at the man from a distance of eight feet. She figured if he broke free she’d need at least that much room between him and her to put him down with a burst of nine millimeter Parabellums. The elevator door opened and Veyron stepped out.

  Elise turned her head to face him. “Any luck with those engines yet? I don’t care what the Secretary of Defense advised us to do with the Antarctic Solace – I can’t get through to Sam and I think it’s time we move to McMurdo Sound.”

  “No. We’re stuck here until reinforcements arrive.”

  “What do you mean? You couldn’t fix it?”

  “Not before the ice had well and truly bound the Antarctic Solace to the sea.” Veyron grinned. “You’re not going to believe this, but someone’s completely reconfigured the Antarctic Solace’s main powerhouse!”

  “The diesels are gone?”

  “No. They’re there all right. Only, they have been completely disconnected from the ship’s main systems.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now they’re entirely free from all electronics.”

  “Don’t they need electricity to start?” Elise asked.

  “Not anymore!” Veyron clenched his jaw. “The entire thing has been retrofitted with hand operated starting mechanisms and although the steering is still hydraulic, instead of being power assisted, someone has increased the ratios of the gears so that the entire thing can be steered by hand.

  “Why would anyone go to such trouble?” Tom interrupted.

  “Unless…” Elise started to say.

  Veyron sighed. “They knew an electromagnetic pulse was going to shut everything down!”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  A black ship approached. Its dark outline formed a menacing silhouette on the horizon. It was a battleship, but whose was impossible for Tom to identify from such a distance with plain eyesight. He reached for a pair of binoculars and stepped out onto the deck along to the bow to get a better view. Veyron trailed behind, eerily whistling the tune to Gloomy Sunday.

  Tom looked at Veyron. “Do you have to?”

  Veyron sighed. “I’m not saying I necessarily like the song, but there’s no doubt about it – the melody becomes catchy.”

  Tom shook his head and focused the binoculars until the port side of the battleship came into view. It looked recently painted in matt black from the waterline to the top of its bridge, which looked as though it extended at least fifty feet in the air. Just forward of the bridge were two massive gun turrets, each with twin fourteen inch guns. Aft of the bridge triple boiler towers formed a triangle and released thick dark smoke high into the atmosphere, giving it an even more intimidating presence, like some evil monster in the night. He moved his line of sight towards the hull and stopped.

  BB-35 was painted in bold letters and numbers.

  “My God!” Tom swore. “It’s the USS Texas!”

  “You must be wrong,” Veyron said. “The USS Texas is supposed to be in Texas as a permanent National Monument! Besides, the thing’s over a hundred years old – there’s no reason for it to have come down this far, and certainly no way it would have survived the dangerous seas.”

  “Beats me what the hell it’s doing down here, but it’s definitely the Texas.” Tom held out the binoculars. “Here, have a look for yourself.”

  Veyron snatched the binoculars from him and studied the battleship as it crept towards them at full steam. “That’s either the USS Texas, or a very good replica, but only a madman would try to bring it down here.”

  Tom recalled the USS Texas BB-35 was the last of the Dreadnought era, steam-powered battleships in existence. Her twin coal boilers had been retrofitted with six oil burners in the late twenties to increase speed, but otherwise, she’d remained true to her original form. Two years ago the USS Texas had been moved from Texas, where she was permanently displayed as a National Monument and moved to dry dock under the auspice of ongoing maintenance. If it really was the same battleship, Tom guessed someone had spent that time returning her to a state of battle readiness – although why someone would go to the length of doing so without upgrading and modernizing the we
apons systems flummoxed him.

  It slowed and pulled up alongside the Antarctic Solace until the towered bridge dwarfed them by thirty feet. A multitude of hand fed machineguns lined its decks. American sailors manned every one of them as though waiting for an imminent attack. Smoke billowed from the three separate towers as the battleship’s screw was thrown into reverse and the ship was brought to a standstill. Navy SEALs, armed with assault weapons, secured the ship, while several sailors tied off alongside the Antarctic Solace.

  No one spoke and Tom just grinned as a single woman climbed down a rope ladder and on to the deck of the Antarctic Solace. She looked like she was in her early forties, but Tom knew she was closer to fifty. Wearing a military dress uniform littered with medals, her dark red hair was tied back in a bun without a single strand of hair out of place. She had an angular, almost permanent scowl to her face – yet there was something undefinably exquisite and beautiful about it also.

  Tom grinned. “Madam Secretary. I’m surprised to see you here in person.”

  A smile opened and replaced her scowl. She was definitely beautiful. “Tom Bower, I babysat you when you were still trying to work out how to walk – I think you can call me Margaret out here.”

  “Okay, Ma’am.”

  Margaret ignored him and looked up at Veyron. “Hello, Veyron. I hope you’ve got things under control.”

  “Trying to, Ma’am.”

  Tom stared at the massive battleship. “Can I ask a question, Ma’am?”

  “Shoot,” she replied.

  “What the hell is the USS Texas doing in the Antarctic?”

  She smiled. “It’s here on a hunting expedition.”

  “For what?”

  “I’ll explain shortly. First, tell me what you have here? Is the Antarctic Solace secure? How many people have you found aboard? And where the hell’s Sam Reilly – he should have been the first to meet me here.”

  Tom sighed. “Sam’s in East Antarctica at the moment trying to…”

  “I thought I made it clear to him that his only priority was securing the Antarctic Solace until reinforcements arrived?”

  “Yes, well…”

  Margaret interrupted Tom before he could finish his sentence. “I’ll deal with him later. Tell me what do you know so far? Is anyone else aboard?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Tom replied. “We found twenty people inside – all of them prisoners of some sort. They appear drug affected and no one’s awake yet. Elise is currently inside keeping an eye on them.”

  “But are they secure?”

  “Definitely. They’re all sedated, actually.”

  Margaret’s scowl returned. “How many people do you have guarding them right now?”

  “Just Elise – but she can take care of herself. Besides, like I said – we’ve done bloods. They all have high levels of drugs in their systems.”

  “Let me guess – with morphine, midazolam and trace amounts of LSD.”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “Because Robert Cassidy experimented with just such a concoction to make people work for him. Opioid based drug addicts are the easiest people of all to control if you own the drugs.”

  “Who’s Robert Cassidy?”

  She ignored his question. “Do you have a picture of them?”

  “Who?” Tom asked.

  “The drug affected survivors!”

  Tom handed the Secretary of Defense his smartphone with the picture of the twenty drug affected people. “This is all of them. We’ve done blood tests – they’ve all been sedated.”

  She turned to face one of the Navy SEALs behind her. “Major – I want your Delta and Echo teams to follow me immediately! We’re about to have a hostage situation included in this royal fucking disaster!”

  “What is it?” Tom asked.

  “We need to get to them immediately!” Margaret spoke in short, curt words.

  “Follow me.” Tom started moving down the length of the ship. “Elise has them secured mid ship in the main dining area. It’s all right, they’re all sedated and Elise is armed.”

  “No. It’s not all right. They’re not secure at all. They may all have drugs in their system – but one of them has been using for years and built up a tolerance to the drugs. One of them is conscious and in control of the situation.”

  “Who?” Tom asked.

  Margaret pointed to the person in the picture at the end of the third row. “This one!”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Elise blinked and the big guy in the recliner chair moved again. It might have been another automatic reflex, or he was starting to wake up – then again, there was always the possibility he’d been awake all along. Either way, Elise wasn’t going to wait to find out. She used her right thumb and flicked the three positioned ARS lever on her open-bolt Uzi two notches to the left, and it changed from safe to automatic mode. She watched as the giant moved both his hands. First they were twitches in his left hand, followed by his right. She wasn’t even certain they were accidental or intentional movements. Each one started to look more like a spasm and the cable ties no longer seemed sufficient as he clenched his fists and tested their resistance.

  Elise grinned. So the blood tests were right, this was the person who was responsible. He must have taken a smaller dose in the hope he could pretend to be one of the prisoners and not the captor.

  “I know you’re waking up. I suggest you open your eyes and talk to me.”

  The fidgeting stopped, but the man said nothing.

  “Last chance,” she said. “Open your eyes and talk to me.”

  Still nothing.

  Elise gently squeezed the trigger with the required four pounds of pressure. A short burst of 9mm Perabellums was released.

  Three bullets whipped past the big guys head. He opened his eyes instantly. “What the hell is wrong with you? What have you done to me? I did everything you asked – you said you’d let us go.”

  “Good morning,” Elise said. “Decide to take some of the same stuff you were giving to your patients?”

  “What?” He looked drowsy but instantly angry. “Who are you? What have you done to me?”

  He tightened his grip and the muscles in his forearms bulged. For an instant, she thought he might actually snap the cable ties just by flexing. At a glance she guessed he was six foot four and somewhere in the vicinity of three hundred pounds. Some of his muscles had turned to fat, but there was no doubting the strength beneath it.

  She stepped back, just in case he broke free. “My name’s Elise. I’m here to rescue these people. What’s your name?”

  “Mark.” His voice seemed unnaturally weak and feminine for a man his size. “I work in the engine room. They said they’d let me go after I finished the work. Well I finished the work, and I want to go home.”

  Elise studied him. For a big man Mark looked more like a frightened child. It could have been an act, albeit a very good one or he could be telling the truth. “Who held you hostage?”

  Mark tightened his fists again, trying vainly to break free from the restraints. “I don’t know. Really I don’t. They came in during the middle of the night, woke us all up and made us work. Told us we could only go home once we’d completed the task.”

  “And what was the task?”

  “They wanted us to reconfigure the diesel engines so they no longer required electricity to start. We were to install manual starting mechanisms and additional gearing to the steering so they no longer required powered assistance.”

  “Why?” Elise asked.

  “They didn’t say. They just said we could go home once it was complete.” Mark shook his head. He looked like he was going to cry. “Elise. I just want to go home. Do you think you could please put the gun down?”

  Elise looked at the other survivors. Every one of them remained precisely where she’d left them. “Sorry, Mark. There’s a ship full of Navy SEALs docking alongside us right now. Once I have some help, I’ll untie you and we can get to the botto
m of this. I must ask you to remain patient a few minutes longer. Can you do that for me?”

  Mark began to shift his arms violently. He looked like someone who’d mentally snapped. “No! No! Not you again – I don’t want to talk to you lady. You’re gonna hurt me again!”

  “Hey Mark, relax!” Elise moved to the side of him, but his brown eyes kept staring straight ahead, directly where she’d just been standing, as though she hadn’t moved. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “No. No. Please don’t hurt her!” Mark mumbled through the tears of a child. “I’ll be good. I will do what you ask.”

  “Who are you talking to, Mark?” Elise scanned the room. “No one’s asking you to do anything, Mark.”

  Mark turned to face her directly, and cried out in abject horror. “The little lady standing behind you!”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  In front of her, Elise noticed one of the twenty survivors had disappeared. She was the smallest of the lot of them; a petite blonde woman who looked too small for her maintenance clothes. Elise hadn’t given her any notice because the levels of drugs were so high in the woman’s system Elise figured she would be unconscious for a few days still.

  Elise moved quickly. She ducked and turned to face the woman. Bringing the Uzi up to fire simultaneously, her response was fast – but not fast enough. Elise felt the knife gently prick the side of her neck and then stop dead.

  “It’s resting on your carotid – so I suggest you don’t move if you’d like to live.” The female voice was barely more than a whisper, but confident.

  “Okay. Who are you and what would you like me to do?” Elise asked.

  “My name’s Christine and I’m now in charge. And you’re going to drop the Uzi.”

  “What’s to stop you just killing me once I do that?”