The Sam Reilly Collection

by Christopher Cartwright

  “What I don’t understand is how you plan to sink that thing?”

  “Do you mean how will I make such a large air pocket neutrally buoyant?” Sam asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, to do that is simple, really. All you need to do is to attach a heavy weight at the bottom using some of this wire cabling, until our new diving bell sinks.”

  “And what do we have that’s heavy enough to sink something like that?” Aliana asked. “It must produce a couple hundred pounds worth of water displacement?”

  “I estimate that it’s around 300 pounds.”

  “So, what do we have here that weighs that much?”

  “That part’s easy, haven’t you realized it yet?” Sam asked.

  “No, I haven’t. Please fill me in – what is it?”

  “Gold.”

  “That’s some pretty expensive ballast you’re talking about!” Aliana laughed as she said it, and added, “Okay, you’d better get started then.”

  Sam gave her a big hug and then kissed her, saying, “I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  “I know you will,” she told him.

  Their parting was easier than one might expect, both of them believing that even with the odds against them, they were going to be all right.

  Sam swam along the surface of the water until he reached the rock wall that marked the beginning of the downward tunnel.

  He then hyperventilated for about thirty seconds, blowing off whatever carbon dioxide he could, in an attempt to increase the length of time his cells could survive while he was submerged. The makeshift dive bell, he knew, wasn’t going to get him very far. He needed to get as much distance under his first breath as possible.

  He didn’t even wave goodbye or notice the tears in Aliana’s eyes, before he simply dived under the water, as he had done so many thousands of times before.

  As he submerged his body in a little over three feet of water, the little digital animation of a swimming frog appeared on his watch, and next to it, the number in seconds.

  He didn’t even bother to look at the watch, seeing no point in it. After all, he was either going to make it to the other side, or he was going to die in the attempt.

  His strong legs dolphin kicked him forward as he used both of his arms to hold the diving bell. Once he reached the point at which the diving bell became neutrally buoyant, he was able to concentrate on swimming while nestling his head through the cable which descended to the gold ballast attached below.

  This time, he’d covered himself with grease from the Magdalena’s large articulating rudder, as a means of maintaining some of his body heat while submerged beneath the bone-chilling water.

  As he swam, he allowed his thoughts to return to the bliss of the previous night with Aliana, attempting to divert his attention from the pain of the lactic-acid build up he was experiencing, and the overwhelming urge to take a deep breath.

  Next to the frog on his watch, read the time: 1 minute: 22 seconds.

  He swam on, using long breaststrokes, combined with slow, continuous dolphin kicks.

  The glow he saw before him was like a mirage seeming to draw continuously closer. Sam soon realized that the tunnel was not completely horizontal, as he had first assumed. It wasn’t even diagonal. Instead, it was a giant vertical shaft. It might have once been an ancient lava tube, in which the Magdalena had somehow become entombed. As the flow of water became blocked at its base, the increasing depth of the water must have raised until it flooded the grand cavern.

  Sam just hoped that he could get through whatever had caused the blockage in the first place.

  As he sank down deeper within the tunnel, he popped his head up inside the dive bell and took a breath of air. Understanding just how little oxygen was contained in such a small container, he was careful not to become complacent, and would try to last as long as possible between breaths.

  Next to the smiling frog, the time now read: 5 minutes: 48 seconds.

  He continued this process more than a dozen times as he descended. Each time, he would expel the remaining air in his lungs prior to surfacing inside the dive bell. By so doing, he could avoid the risk of contaminating the bell with potentially lethal amounts of carbon dioxide.

  However, he knew that each time he took another breath, the air inside the dive bell was decreasing.

  By the time he took his fifteenth breath, he discovered there was no longer enough air for him to take another.

  By now, without any air to maintain its buoyancy, the dive bell became a dive weight, and Sam hung onto it as it caused him to rapidly descend into the depths of the dark chasm.

  And still, at the very bottom, Sam could only just make out a faint glow.

  Sam continued to hold his breath. His lungs felt like they were burning. Only years of free diving, and conditioning had made him capable of holding his breath for so long.

  He hoped that the cold water would help to reduce his metabolic requirement, but it did nothing to alleviate the pain.

  When his mind started to swirl, he knew that his blood was reaching a lethal level of carbon dioxide content. In his head, where he’d been listening to the quick beating of his fatigued heart, he noticed that it was starting to slow.

  A certain sense of calm settled over him.

  Next to his frog, read the numbers: 14 minutes: 43 seconds.

  He was ready to die.

  But what about Aliana? I’m not ready to die. She’s the only thing I’ve really wanted in a long time.

  In front of him, his hand touched against a wall of limestone.

  The glowing hole he’d been focused on in the distance had never been one giant hole at all. Instead, it consisted of hundreds of small chinks in the wall, formed by broken rocks.

  Sam squirmed through the first one he could find, and a moment later, his head surfaced inside a small bubble of air.

  Gasping, he pulled himself up and began to hyperventilate.

  A minute later, the dizziness he’d been experiencing from the concentrated CO2, finally reduced, and he was able to start focusing on where he was and why.

  Switching on his torch for the first time since they’d discovered the Magdalena, Sam looked around and discovered that he was in an underwater cave that was approximately 6 feet long by 4 feet wide, and that it was almost completely sealed by rock.

  At one end, he could see a small passageway, no more than seven inches wide, leading to the surface. The source of the light would be of no use to him.

  Sam continued looking around the small cave.

  As far as he was concerned, the place looked more like a tomb than his salvation.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Blake Simmonds contemplated where his loyalties rested. Such contemplation was rare for him. Not since he was a small child had he even considered what his priorities were. In the end, though, the answer was simple, as it always had been and would be: Blake looks after Blake.

  Looking at the touch-screen in front of him, he selected his employer’s phone number, and clicked “scatter.” The “scatter” app on his satellite phone then ran through more than a hundred proxy servers before making the final connection.

  It took a considerable amount of time, but if someone was listening, which was often the case, it would take them more time to find out where the call originated than they would get listening to what was being said.

  He had only spoken with the man three times since this whole thing began. The man receiving the call, answered immediately.

  “Speak.”

  “I have reason to believe that John Wolfgang is going to screw us.”

  “Really? That is unexpected.” The man sounded calm, despite what was at stake. “Why would he do that? He knows we have Aliana, right?”

  “He might just discover that she’s already dead.” Blake didn’t hesitate before stating the embarrassing fact.

  “Ah… shit! How could you have been so careless?”

  “I could never have predicted
that John would accidentally kill her himself!”

  “That stupid prick,” the man said, chuckling. “Are you confident that Sam will reach the Magdalena?”

  “I’m almost certain of it, and if Aliana is still alive, I know exactly where she and Sam Reilly will emerge from the rabbit hole. But we’re going to have to act quickly if we want to secure the place.”

  “Send me the coordinates and I’ll dispatch the men.”

  *

  Sam couldn’t believe his shitty luck as he stared at the rocky cave above his head. He was trapped. Despite his best efforts to swim such an inconceivable distance while holding his breath, he found himself no closer to the surface than before.

  He allowed himself another two minutes to give his body time to allow its oxygen and CO2 levels to return to normal.

  Hyperventilating once again, Sam again dived under the dark water below and tried to find another way out of his tomb. Despite having to hold his breath, he felt himself naturally relaxing after again submerging himself in the icy water. He had spent thousands of hours cave diving over the years, and it felt far from foreign to him.

  Sam managed to explore three different tunnels.

  Two tunnels were completely submerged and one contained a small pocket of air to support him, but neither tunnel offered a way to reach the outside surface.

  At least he had a reasonable supply of breathable air on this side of the tunnel. If nothing else, that gave him enough air in which to exhaust the escape potential of each tunnel.

  After four more attempts, Sam became concerned that the carbon dioxide levels inside his cave were probably starting to reach dangerous levels. He needed to find a way out and soon, if he was ever going to have a chance. If he couldn’t make it out, Sam decided that he would rather return to the Magdalena and save Aliana the nightmare of swimming the submerged tunnel only to discover his corpse on the other side.

  But could I even make that swim again?

  Sam doubted it very much, regardless of his desire.

  On his sixth attempt, he decided to try something different.

  Sam knew that he needed to swim upwards in order to reach the surface of the lake, but thus far, all he’d discovered on his previous attempts was that each tunnel reaching upward towards the surface had ended in impenetrable rock barriers. Water was constantly flowing into the tunnel, but the surface marks around the perimeter of the underground lake appeared to remain relatively constant.

  This meant that the water was obviously leaving the tunnel somewhere.

  Instead of swimming upwards, Sam descended all the way to the bottom of the tunnel – guessing that he was at a depth of 30-40 feet. At the bottom, he could feel a gentle pull towards something beneath the largest rock that formed the barrier.

  He allowed his body to drift for twenty to thirty seconds until he could be certain, and then swam underneath the rock.

  The opening was narrow, and he scraped the skin of his wide shoulders attempting to get through.

  The hole seemed to reach even farther down, he discovered.

  It was far too narrow to permit him to turn around if it didn’t lead to the lake’s surface, and Sam found himself struggling to quell the terror that accompanied his fear of drowning.

  For an instant, he saw his brother’s face on the night that he died.

  In a surreal moment, he felt as though his brother was encouraging him. As though, without words, he was telling him he was nearly there. Just keep going.

  Sam had no idea how deep he had submerged, but even if he did have room to turn around, he realized that he’d already passed the point of no return. By now, even if he did have a way get back to where he’d begun, the lack of oxygen required to make such an effort would have rendered him unconscious before he made it.

  With his lungs burning, he was very close to accepting his fate.

  Ahead of him, he suddenly noticed a light on the rock below. It started to flicker, as sunlight would, through the tiny ripples of the lake’s surface.

  He began to rapidly kick with his legs, and pushed himself toward it.

  Then, using his hands to reach through the opening, he pulled himself out of the hole and looked up. Above him he could see the crystal clear waters of a lake.

  His watch indicated that he was under 30 feet of water.

  Sam comfortably exhaled during his entire rise to the surface.

  When his head finally broke free of the water, Sam took a deep breath of the most deliciously fresh air he’d ever breathed.

  Above him, Sam heard the familiar vibrations of a helicopter coming up over the hill.

  Oh shit, not now!

  He quickly ducked back under the rocky ledge on the side of the lake. Having to hold his breath once more, his lungs burned instantly.

  The sound of the helicopter overhead was amplified by the speed of the sound waves in the water.

  Sam waited there for as long as he was able, until he was quite certain that the helicopter had passed, and then he resurfaced.

  This time, he didn’t wait to see if it was safe – he’d run out of time.

  He felt dizzy and disoriented, exhibiting the first signs of cerebral hypoxia, and the muscles in his arms were beginning to cramp from the cold. His arms and legs had stopped shaking, another sure sign that his body was no longer attempting to compensate for the cold, and was now shutting down.

  Sam knew that he had to get out of the water immediately, dry himself off and attempt to warm his body.

  In the distance, he saw the back of a Robinson 44 helicopter as it hovered. At the back of its tail rotor Sam noticed a small yellow scratch.

  Sam recognized that mark.

  He’d made it with the yellow dive equipment four days ago. And then it hit him.

  That must be Tom – and he was flying away.

  Sam reached for a small piece of metal in his right zipper pocket, and used it to reflect the rays of sunlight toward the helicopter. He flicked it multiple times, so that the movement would cause an annoying flicker which the pilot would hopefully notice.

  There was no immediate response, but Sam continued to try to catch the pilot’s attention.

  Then, he watched as the helicopter turned and started to drop away over the cliff again, and off the mountain.

  He was so close to being rescued, and now he’d lost it all.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  In the underwater lake, Aliana passed the time by taking stock of what worked, what didn’t, and what could be repaired onboard the Magdalena. Sam had pointed out that if they ever wanted to get her off the mountain they would have to re-gas her.

  It would be a prolonged process, taking many months, but if the Magdalena was ever to reach her rightful place in a historical museum, she would have to become lighter than air again. After that was achieved, a single helicopter would be capable of towing her.

  In truth, Aliana realized that it was highly unlikely the Magdalena would ever escape from her watery confines. Sam probably knew it too, but it was better to try to keep her mind active with a purpose, rather than sitting around, waiting for death.

  Starting with the pilot gondola, Aliana reached for the wooden steering wheel, much like that on a yacht, and found it still turned. She was even more surprised to discover, when she looked outside, that the huge rudder at the back of the airship still pivoted in response.

  She could easily imagine the spectacular airship sailing through the sky.

  It stirred something in her imagination, just as Peter Pan had done when she was just three years old, and she longed to see the old ship in the air again. But, just as with Peter Pan, she knew it was little more than pure fantasy that it might someday fly again. Still, it made her happy.

  Next, she turned the 14 valves which controlled the air input inside the canopy. To her surprise, they still had some air within them, but both compartments 13 and 14 leaked air out just as quickly as it entered them. She studied the diagram of the air valves, and noted that
these represented the two forward compartments.

  Aliana wondered if these were the result of the crash, or if they were what caused the crash. Had the Nazi’s bullets damaged the Magdalena’s bow compartments?

  Next, she flicked on the helium tank valves.

  As she expected, there was no sound of any gas moving.

  She looked through the pressure markings, and tried to calculate exactly how much helium would be necessary to cause her to become airborne once again. She understood the tanks that made up part of the hold in the pilot gondola were trivial in comparison to the amount of helium necessary to fill up the main airship canopy.

  Aliana ran her hands along the rest of the controls inside the pilot gondola. There weren’t many of them, and for the most part, they were merely monitoring devices: altimeters, pressure gauges, and engine pressure readers.

  The Magdalena was a very simple machine compared to modern day standards of air travel.

  Looking at the skeletons of the two pilots, she couldn’t help but wonder. What went wrong with your beautiful airship?

  Before leaving the gondola, however, she noticed a locker marked “maintenance tools.” These airships were designed to be maintained by those onboard, come what may during their travels. It was a time long before the existence of ground technicians and engineers, who nowadays could advise a pilot on his or her best choice of action with a simple radio message or computer signal.

  Inside the locker, she found a number of tools, but only picked up a small metal box that contained a number of wrenches, and screwdrivers – just in case.

  She then made her way along the airway, which linked the pilot gondola with the luxury passenger carrier, and then through that compartment to the one containing the engine. The engines were completely sealed in a protective casing. It appeared that the engine gondola had never been submerged into the water.

  Much more basic than modern-day engines, the Magdalena’s forward propulsion system consisted of four Daimler-Benz 32HP diesel engines. Unlike their modern counterparts, these engines relied on hand power to crank. They were primitive, but simple and reliable to operate and maintain.