“Jesus, are you all right?” He thought he saw some sort of understanding in her eyes. She’d been the recipient of enough prejudice from her own father.
“I’ll be fine. Hey, do you mind if I use your phone?”
“Sure, go for it.” She had a kind smile, Sam decided.
He bent down to pick it up off the center console. Sam noticed that she hadn’t bothered to change her clothes, and her long tanned legs could be seen in their entirety. He struggled not to stare, sat up, and dialed the number.
“I’m surprised you can still remember anyone’s phone number by heart.”
“This guy’s been my best mate since I was a kid. His is just about the only phone number I’ve ever bothered to memorize.”
The ring tone ended as someone picked up.
“Tom, it’s me.”
“Hey Sam, where are you? James is still pretty pissed that you refused to answer his calls, given the whole Cyclone Petersham thing. You won’t believe what we did…”
Sam cut him off short.
“Hey, I’ll hear all about it soon. It’s a long story, but I need you to pick me up from…” he looked at the beautiful woman sitting next to him who mimed the words “Shoal Haven.” I’m in Shoal Haven, he recited. I don’t have my phone, wallet or anything else with me. Can you be here in about an hour? I’ve got a few important things to do.”
“Sure, I’ll bring the helicopter.”
“Good, I’ll see you shortly. Thanks pal.”
He handed the phone back to her. “Thanks for that…” He stopped short. “I’m so sorry, I don’t even know your name. I’m Sam Reilly.” He said, shaking her hand. It was firm, more like a man’s handshake than a woman’s, but without the intent to prove who had the strongest grip. It was the handshake of someone who had spent years doing business with men and treated them equally.
“Aliana,” she said, and he noted that she’d withheld her surname.
She had a beautiful smile, and he wished the drive into town was longer.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said.
“Where’s your friend coming from?”
“Who?”
“Your best bud. The guy you just called, who’s just going to drop whatever it was he was doing to come and pick you up?”
“Oh, Tom? He’s in Sydney.”
“What, and he’s going to get here in an hour? It’s about a four hour drive. I know, I drove it just last week.”
“Yeah, well I told him he could take the company’s helicopter.”
“Your company?” She sounded surprised.
“No, I just manage a section of it,” he admitted.
“You must be pretty important to the company if you have a helicopter to come pick you up. What do you do?”
“I work for a company called Global Shipping, but I manage only a very small part of it, involved in Special Operations. We’re involved in some salvage stuff, but mainly we work on consignment to various government agencies around the world. We do outside investigations into water quality, environmental issues, and stuff like that.”
“You work on the ocean?” She asked, sounding surprised.
“Yep.”
“And you just sank your own sailing yacht?”
“Yeah, well… now you can see why I’m being so coy.” Although unaccustomed to it, Sam feigned embarrassment as best he could.
She shook her head in amazement.
About five minutes later they arrived in the center of Shoal Haven. It was a little coastal village with a coffee shop and a couple of cafes, which were the only things open this early on a Sunday morning.
He got out of the car and thanked her again.
She was about to drive away when he stopped her.
“Say, can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?” He smiled. It was a hopeful grin and then he added, “My flight is still going to take a while to get here.”
“Do you have any money on you? I thought you lost everything?” She said, her smile teasing him.
“You’re right. Can you buy me a coffee, and I’ll pay you back when my ride gets here?”
“Come on.” She smiled back at him comfortably, like a girl who doesn’t normally get involved in other people’s problems. “I’ll spot you.”
At the end of the deck was a place called “Café de Pacific.” It had an outlook over the ocean in the distance. They seated themselves and ordered, and Sam asked for a large jug of water, which he drank down the second it arrived at their table.
“So, what’s your story?” he asked, genuinely interested in hearing it.
“Mine?” She smiled again. Sam thought that he could get used to watching her smile. “I’m studying Microbiology at MIT.”
“No kidding? I have a Master’s in oceanography from MIT.”
She gave him that look which he translated to mean, “Sure, like you could afford MIT as a tugboat driver.”
He ignored the look and said, “So, do you come from old money too?”
“Oh yeah, that’s my family.” She said sarcastically. “My dad’s forever trying to send me my own helicopter.”
Sam laughed at that. More from his understanding and his past experiences than he would ever let her know.
“No, I’m there on a scholarship, actually.”
“Hey, good for you.” He’d already picked up that she was bright. “What… like a Rhodes scholarship or something like that?”
“Yeah, something like that...” she replied. Still, that smile seemed to become even cuter, as though she was deciding whether or not to keep hiding something.
“Oh, shit. You’re serious! You are a Rhodes Scholar! You must be really bright.” Good looking and bright. Maybe I should just ask her to marry me now.
She laughed, but behind it, he could see that she was mildly embarrassed, as though she was used to being treated differently by boys.
“My dad’s the bright one, she added. He’s a microbiologist as well, and after my mum left him, I suppose the only thing he could do right was to teach me about science. I don’t think I’m necessarily any better or brighter than anyone else. You see, it was just what we sort of did as a family.”
“You don’t get on with your dad?” Sam asked.
“No, of course I do. I mean, he still treats me like I’m sixteen and his little girl, but I know he loves me. What makes you say that?”
“You’ve made a few comments about him stifling you. Don’t look upset. I have the same problem with my dad. We love each other, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere near him, or see him too often.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true of my dad, too,” she admitted.
“And your mum?”
“No idea. She left my dad years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. It happens.”
They continued talking for about half an hour, and the time went by too quickly. Then, he saw a large, unfamiliar Jet Ranger hover overhead, circle and then land in the parking lot at the end of the street.
“I guess that’s your ride,” she said.
“Guess so, but it isn’t one of ours.”
“It’s been nice talking to you, Sam.”
“Thank you. It’s been a pleasure talking to you too, Aliana.” He then wrote down his phone number. “I have some work to do in Europe, but I travel a fair amount. If you would ever like to have lunch with me, I’d love to see you again – anywhere, anytime.”
Sam meant it too. He would happily make an excuse to visit any part of the world just to spend a short amount of time in her company.
She took it, kissed him on the cheek, and then said with a grin, “Maybe I will.”
*
“Boy, am I sure glad to see you, Tom,” Sam said.
“You look like crap. So, what have you done this time?” There was laughter in Tom’s voice, but he spoke with genuine concern too, combined with a touch of reproof.
“It’s a long story,” Sam said, as he looked up at his
friend. “You look like you’ve had a rough week at work. Where’s my Sea King, anyway?”
“About that…” Tom stopped short.
“I get it. It’s going to be a long story.”
“You go first.”
It took the entire flight back to Sydney harbor, where the Maria Helena was at its temporary mooring making repairs, for Sam to tell his story, filling in all the parts about the gold, the brutal attack, and at last, about the girl that he’d met.
After they landed on the back deck of the Maria Helena, Sam looked across at his friend, and said, “So Tom, what did you do while I was away?”
“Well Sam…” Tom wore his usual grin as he pressed the collective all the way down, letting the rotary blades wind down, through their natural whine, and then patted Sam on his shoulder and said, “While you’ve been out playing, I’ve been busy working. I flew the Sea King through the eye of a cyclone in order to save one of your dad’s super bulkers in an attempt to also save the lives of all the sea, as well as the lives of millions of Queenslanders, in the process.”
“No shit?” Sam’s eyes showed that he was impressed, and that he believed what Tom had just told him. Had it come from anyone other than Tom, he would have called them a liar.
“Yep.”
“Did you save her?”
“Nope, she sank just before reaching the Great Barrier Reef,” Tom admitted.
“Wow, I guess my dad was pissed about that.”
“Sure was,” Tom replied, “but not so much about losing his ship.”
“What then?”
“He was more upset about the loss of the contents of his private vault.”
“Bet he asked you dive for them during the cyclone, didn’t he?” Sam asked. He knew all about his father’s private vault, and he had a good idea of just what he was transporting inside.
“Right again.”
“And, I’ll also bet that you told him where to go.”
“No. When he told me what was at stake, I had to do what he wanted.”
“What was inside it when you opened the vault?” Sam asked, only mildly curious. He and his father generally kept out of each other’s secret lives.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean? Had it been destroyed?”
“No, just stolen.”
“Really?” Sam said, his eyes brightening as though the news had made his day. “Someone stole something from my father while his ship was stranded in a cyclone? That would definitely have pissed him off. So, what’s his next move?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of the person who stole whatever it was. My dad can be quite persistent when he’s out for revenge.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Tom said. “Now, what are we going to do about your problem?”
“I’m going to take a shower, put on some dry clothes, and then we’ll work out what we’re going to do about the Wolfgang Corporation.”
*
Twenty minutes later, Sam sat at the end of the operations room, with his laptop computer open. There was a fatigue that went with surviving the past few days of his life, but the shower had made him feel human again.
He looked at the laptop screen before him and typed the words, “Wolfgang Corporation” into google.
A long list of pages relating to the infamous Wolfgang Corporation came up instantly. Its president was a Mr. John Wolfgang, a microbiologist with a number of accolades to his name, including a Nobel Prize for Medicine in 2012.
Sam scrolled down, and discovered that John Wolfgang appeared to be a well-respected microbiologist, as well as a wealthy businessman. His father, Walter Wolfgang had also been a brilliant microbiologist, who had founded the company in 1935, while working on his PhD, but had struggled to succeed in it after Germany lost the war. He ended up living in East Germany, which entirely strangled his operations. After the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, John rekindled the family business by finding financial backing from an unlisted source. Since then, the company had moved to the U.S., where it now thrived, and became one of the leading pharmaceutical companies involved in stem cell research.
Sam made a mental note of the company owner’s name, and decided that he would have to give the company’s past history a closer inspection at a later time.
Next, Sam opened up his last email from Kevin Reed. At the end of it, there was a note with the name “The Summit,” a bed and breakfast, located in the Alps, where Kevin was staying. Below that, was a note with his contact phone number in case he discovered anything interesting about the gold bar.
I don’t have anything to tell you about the gold, but I sure hope you can answer some of my questions – Kevin.
With that in mind, Sam dialed the number.
“Hello. Summit.”
“Hello. I was given this number and told that I might pass along a message to a friend of mine who has been staying with you over the summer.”
“Yes, certainly. What is your friend’s name?” The tone was not unfriendly, but the man’s thick German accent made it difficult for the man to hide his formality.
“A Mr. Kevin Reed.” Sam said, and then added, as if to clarify: “He and his wife have been climbing in your region for a number of months now.”
The line went silent. Sam wondered if he had been cut off.
“Hello, are you still there?”
“I am sorry sir. I guess that you haven’t heard?” The man’s voice sounded more surprised than concerned, that clearly Sam was unaware of recent events.
“Heard what?” Sam’s heart missed a beat.
What now?
“I regret to inform you that Mr. Kevin Reed and his wife had an accident on the mountain earlier today. His rope broke, and tragically, both he and his wife fell to their deaths.”
“Oh my God!”
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” The man asked.
Suddenly, the realization of how serious this was hit Sam like an avalanche. It was his fault that his old college acquaintance and his wife were now both dead.
Someone had been after him because he’d found out about the gold. But how did they know?
“Thank you for your help.”
Sam hung the phone up before he made the mistake of letting them know he was still alive.
He then sat there, looking blankly at the computer screen, which was still displaying a picture of the head of the Wolfgang Corporation, a blond man with a rigid face, but a kind smile, staring back at him.
What did you have to do with this?
He struggled to recollect the chain of events that had transpired since the discovery of the gold’s existence. His friend, Kevin, had discovered the gold and now he was dead; he himself had made some inquiries about the gold, and now someone had made very serious attempt on his life, too.
Who else knows about the gold?
Then he remembered, Blake Simmonds, his father’s friend.
Simmonds had said that he’d spent years fascinated by the story of the Magdalena and her disappearance, which was why he had called as soon as he’d seen the picture of the gold, with the G & O emblem clearly marked.
Could Blake have betrayed me?
No one else knew about the discovery. It was certainly possible. His father’s friend might have deceived him. Even the best of friends may choose betrayal if the reward was high enough, except that in this case, he’d never even met the man.
Someone else must have been searching for this gold for quite some time in order to be willing to commit murder to prevent anyone else from getting to it first.
That thought sent a shiver down his spine.
At that point, the door opened and Tom walked in.
“Tom, I just spoke with Mary in Human Resources. You have four weeks leave owing?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve just told her that you’ve decided to take them starting tomorrow.” Sam said.
> “Tomorrow?” Tom’s patient, smiling face looked back at him with surprise.
Sam had seen that look on his friend’s face before. It said, what have you gotten me into this time?
The friendship between Sam and Tom went back years, well before they’d decided to join the Marines together. Over the years, they had dragged each other along on some pretty crazy adventures. It was a wonder that either of them were still alive to tell the tale.
“Yep. Tomorrow.”
“Why would I do that? I’m planning to go surfing at the big wave contest in Oahu in September!” Tom protested.
“Don’t worry about the surf. It will still be there next year.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry about the surf? I’ve been looking forward to this for three years running!” Tom complained.
“Now, we’re going to Europe instead.”
“And why the hell are we doing that?”
“Well, buddy ...” This time it was Sam’s turn to look at his friend, with an expression he had seen many times before, which said, Believe me, this will be worth it, “... because we’re going on a treasure hunt.”
*
Sam scrolled through the priority list on his satellite phone, and clicked on the words: “The Old Man.”
He didn’t have a particularly close relationships his father. They had never been the typical American immigrant family, who maintained their close family ties. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his dad, and he certainly respected him. After all, the man was exceptional in his field, and in any other in which he had to deal, for that matter, that much was certain.
Sam only spoke with him two, or sometimes three times a year, and it was rarely for personal reasons. Today was different. He needed help. He was in trouble and his dad might just have the right connections to help him out.
He had no doubt that his father loved him. In his own way.
The phone never even got the chance to ring, “Yes?” His dad didn’t waste time with unnecessary terms such as “hello.”
“Hey, Dad.”
No response.
He was waiting for Sam to make the next move, as though their conversation was an intricate chess battle.
“I’m in trouble.”
“Yes, I heard that you refused to return to your post because you were off chasing some perfect disaster of a storm, instead of performing the task that you were paid for, and as a result my ship was sunk – and even more importantly, something of tremendous value was stolen from me.”
The Last Airship Page 11