The Sam Reilly Collection

by Christopher Cartwright

  He watched with satisfaction, looking down from the pilot house, as the limestone silt on the bottom, below the primary gondola, which had remained firmly locked, started bubbling like a boiling cauldron.

  It continued for a couple minutes, and then a second dynamite blast exploded, sending another round of vibrations rippling up toward the surface.

  “How confident are you that you’re not going to blow us and the Magdalena to pieces?” Aliana asked.

  Sam looked at her, a grin on his face displaying his self-confidence, as he recalled all the shipwrecks he’d successfully resurfaced from the seafloor over the years. “I have a fairly good idea of what I’m doing.”

  “How many of those wrecks contained a virus so lethal that any damage to its container could literally threaten the existence of the human race on this planet?” Aliana asked.

  “I was careful. Don’t worry,” Sam assured her.

  The virus, inside its container, had been carefully moved to the pilot gondola, which sat higher up towards the front of the canopy, allowing it to remain dry once the Magdalena was once again floating freely in the water.

  At just that instant, a large wave of water came barreling towards them.

  In the middle of the lake, Sam felt her break free from the silty bottom, and for the first time in 75 years, she was floating freely again, albeit, this time in water rather than in the air.

  Sam pulled down on the two main propeller throttles.

  The twin Daimler-Benz engines at the rear of the Magdalena roared into life, as fuel was allowed to increase its flow for the two engines at the rear of the Magdalena, which he’d managed to get started again.

  Turning the wheel in his hands, Sam could feel her enormous rudder moving lethargically in the water. He increased the throttle, and the airship started to move forward, ever so slowly.

  Tom would be blowing the tunnel entrance wide open any minute now, Sam thought.

  And then the sound of gunpowder blasting echoed through the enormous cavern. His first thought was that the dynamite had exploded, but the sound of it didn’t seem to be quite powerful enough.

  Maybe it wasn’t enough to blow the opening apart?

  Then Sam realized where the sound had originated.

  Behind him, he spotted men dressed in black military jumpsuits, rapidly approaching. Each man, in turn, took careful aim and fired at the Magdalena.

  *

  Outside the tunnel, Tom could hear the distant sound of a firefight.

  It took him a second to realize that they weren’t firing at him. On the opposite side of the lake, he could see the telltale sparks of gunfire; the tracers were lighting up the lake. He knew they were on their way, but what he couldn’t figure out was how they had managed to get there so quickly.

  Then he noticed the gunfire was also being returned from the other side.

  How many fucking people are there searching for this damn ship?

  When Tom had originally heard the sound of gunfire, he’d assumed that it was Blake Simmonds’ mercenaries attacking him. But, he could now see that they were firing at someone else, but who could it be?

  The sound of gunfire was drawing closer.

  If he wanted to get off the mountain in time to draw the attention of their attackers away from the lake so that Sam could escape, Tom was going to have to blow the dynamite soon.

  Tom wouldn’t permit himself to worry about or be distracted by potential problems that were out of his hands, and he continued to lay the last of the dynamite fuse lines.

  Each of the lines ran to a central location where they attached to a central wireless router, allowing him to set off the charge from the air.

  In the distance, he noticed that the first tracer bullets were approaching the edge of the area where his helicopter rested.

  He was glad Sam had suggested laying the extra charges and the line of aviation fuel, and he just hoped that the transmitter would work properly when he needed it.

  *

  Blake Simmonds continued to move along toward Lake Solitude with his team of mercenaries.

  After coming to terms with the knowledge that John Wolfgang had betrayed his boss, Blake knew their only option was to help Sam Reilly escape, which would give him the chance to steal the virus once they were out of the mountain. There was certainly no time left to make it to the top and then try to follow John’s team in through the tunnels.

  Blake’s only hope was that by tipping off Tom Bower about the threat, he would come back and try to find a way to get Sam out of the bloody mountain. Once Sam Reilly was finally free, Blake could take out both Sam and Tom once and for all, and then steal the virus.

  When Blake and his team had arrived at Lake Solitude, he was at first worried that Tom might not have taken the bait. He was relieved when he spotted Tom’s helicopter. Behind it were the remains of thousands of tons of rocky rubble that appeared to have come from a landslide that must have occurred many decades ago.

  That must be the spot where he’s going to attempt to get Sam Reilly out.

  His moment of relief was very short-lived, as Michael, the leader of his mercenary team, came to inform him that they’d spotted a team of Navy SEALs rapidly approaching the helicopter.

  Where the fuck did they come from?

  “Do you want us to remain concealed?” Michael asked, bringing his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  “No, I want you to engage, and make certain that they do not stop the man in that helicopter from blowing the mountain apart.”

  “Understood.”

  *

  Tom flicked the connection switch on his wireless detonator.

  The green light flickered briefly, and then changed to the blue symbol – indicating that the wireless connection wasn’t reaching the helicopter.

  He slid the power switch to maximum.

  It would drain the power quickly, but provide a greater range for reaching for the wireless connection.

  The connectivity light was still firmly locked on the color blue.

  Behind him, he noted there were so many tracer bullets flying through the air, that he could have sworn he was witnessing the Northern Lights. To make matters worse, this simulated aurora borealis was continuing to move steadily closer to him.

  Tom’s next decision was a simple one – he could either take off and escape now, or he could detonate the explosives on the mountain while he was still on the ground, and then take his chances by using the confusion to cover his take-off. In reality, either option left both him and his best friend in a deadly position.

  He knew immediately it was no choice at all.

  Tom switched the master switch to “on” and started the rotation of the helicopter blades.

  *

  Sam Reilly couldn’t believe their timing.

  If Tom had blown the rock wall a minute earlier, they would have been too far into the tunnel, and out of the lake, to be attacked. Instead, John Wolfgang and his team were now stationed on the far banks taking aim at him.

  He pulled each throttle to full.

  Despite the fact that the tunnel at the end of the lake remained full of water, Sam motored towards its entrance. He knew Tom wouldn’t fail him.

  The splendid red of the tracer bullets looked like shooting stars through the dark cavern.

  Behind him, he could hear the sound of a dozen or more rounds spraying the back of the Magdalena’s canopy.

  He reduced the power of his port propeller, and then increased power to the starboard one, causing the airship to slowly turn on its axis to port. In so doing, he positioned the back of the Magdalena closer to the enemy gunfire.

  Sam looked at Aliana, whose focus on her task hadn’t wavered for a second, despite the gunfire, and said, “Hey, does this story seem somewhat familiar to you?”

  “Sure does. Let’s just hope that this time it has a different ending.”

  Sam felt the world shudder beneath him.

  The water started to move towards the tu
nnel’s opening.

  Aliana pointed at the roof of the tunnel, still only a couple feet above the rapidly receding waterline and said, “We’re never going to make it.”

  “Have faith, my darling. This tunnel is well above the height of Lake Solitude. If Tom has successfully blown the entrance to the tunnel, then this entire volume of water is going to quickly disappear.”

  “Sure, but if it doesn’t make enough room for us soon, won't the suction drag us under anyway?”

  “May do…” Sam replied. It was the best answer he could come up with under the circumstances.

  Behind them, more bullets could be heard spraying the Magdalena’s canopy.

  Sam put both propellers in full reverse, but found that it had little effect over the strong suction of the current which continued to draw them forward, towards the receding water at the entrance of the tunnel.

  Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Aliana.

  He was quite certain that the nose of the Magdalena was going to collide with the tunnel’s roof and smash it into a million pieces.

  As the Magdalena was about to collide with the tunnel roof, the lake, now almost completely drained of its water, appeared to drop suddenly from underneath them.

  It felt as though the Magdalena was sinking.

  In reality, she was still floating on the water inside the tunnel, which was disappearing beneath them.

  Sam waved goodbye to his attackers as he, Aliana, and the Magdalena disappeared below the surface of the now-empty lake.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  John Wolfgang watched in awe as the water level suddenly receded, and the Magdalena floated down and out through the tunnel with it, reminding him of the way a toy boat in a bathtub looked after the drain plug was pulled.

  In the process, three of his men were swept away, and he presumed they’d been drowned in the fast-flowing whitewater.

  He didn’t know whether to be happy with the knowledge his daughter had survived, or terrified by the most likely outcome of this development.

  Having failed to capture the Magdalena, John turned towards the remaining two men in his elite team – the men his employer had sent.

  “The buyer is going to be pretty pissed off that we lost them,” John said, as he approached the two mercenaries.

  “Who would have thought someone would pull the plug and the entire lake would disappear, taking them with it?” the first man responded.

  “Yeah, that was pretty unexpected,” John replied as he pulled out his Luger handgun, and shot each of them in the head ... killing them in cold blood.

  Circumstances made it imperative that John maintain his allegiance with the other side. He felt no remorse in doing what he believed necessary.

  Glad he’d had the foresight to leave a number of radio transmitters along the way, John pulled out his radio and contacted the Navy SEAL commander.

  “Ryan Walker?”

  “Yes John, go ahead,” replied the Navy SEAL commander in charge of the operation on Lake Solitude.

  “They’ve escaped at this end. Expect them to surface somewhere on the lake any minute now.”

  “Understood,” Ryan replied. “We have two targets here. One appears to be a group of fifty or more mercenaries, pretty heavily armed, and the other is a single helicopter – the same one our suspects used when they dived here a few days ago.”

  “Copy that. Hold your ground, but make sure that you don’t let that chopper out of your sight. If you have to choose between the two, follow the helicopter.”

  “Copy that. Should we take it out now?”

  “No, they have the virus. It needs to remain untouched. Do you understand how important it is that the virus not be damaged?”

  “Yes, we’ve been ordered to protect it.”

  “I’m making my way back to the surface, but I’m going to need a ride from the mountain top.”

  “We’ll send someone,” there was a slight pause, and then the SEAL commander said, “The chopper’s blades have just started to rotate.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare lose it!” John shouted into his transmitter.

  *

  Tom had just enough time to close the helicopter door before raising the collective and lifting off. To his right, approximately three hundred feet away, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a number of tracer bullets flying towards him. Instinctively, he swung the tail of the helicopter around, providing a minimal amount of protection.

  He then tilted the rotary blades, and made his approach toward the edge of the mountain. If he could manage to drop off it, he would be free.

  Tom’s eyes scanned the horizon and was relieved to see there wasn’t another bird in the sky. Even if there had been another helicopter on the ground, he knew it would take them too long to start up and catch him.

  He heard three bullets harmlessly rake the side of his tail, and then he dropped off the next cliff and down into the valley below.

  He picked up speed as he lost altitude, and within thirty seconds, he felt he’d safely escaped.

  It’s up to Sam now…

  Behind him, Tom saw the two Blackhawks rapidly approaching.

  Ah, shit! They’re going to be a little harder to outrun!

  He still had the altitude advantage over his enemies, but they had fighting ships, and all he had was an underpowered, unarmed sightseeing helicopter.

  No, his only chance was to lose them and get rid of the helicopter before they shot him out of the sky.

  Tom used the speed he had picked up with his dive to maneuver around a mountain and search for a lake, or someplace where he could safely jump out of his copter. As he came around the narrow peak, he saw exactly what he imagined Peter Greenstein once saw – rugged mountains, lethal pine trees, and no flat surface anywhere.

  He kept flying as fast as he could, but the Robinson 44 simply wasn’t capable of keeping ahead of the more powerful Blackhawks.

  Behind him, Tom could see that the two Blackhawks had slowed down and were following him carefully.

  He continued watching as a number of tracer bullets flew past both his left and right windows.

  It could have been less than a foot off his cockpit.

  No pilot could miss that close a shot so many times, certainly not by accident.

  “Robinson 44, this is the U.S. Blackhawk resting on your tail. You are hereby ordered to land immediately or we will take you out.” Tom heard the voice of a typically relaxed American drawl, from somewhere in the southern states. For a second, he imagined that he could probably match the voice to a face.

  “U.S. Blackhawk on my tail, do you mind telling me what jurisdiction you have over a privately owned tourist helicopter in Italy?”

  “We’re here with permission from the Italian government, on an anti-terrorism coordinated mission.”

  “Copy that. Can you then please explain your reason for firing upon a civilian aircraft?” Tom asked.

  “We have reason to believe you are in possession of some artifacts from the Magdalena. Please turn to 110 degrees and follow me in to a landing point.”

  “Acknowledged.” Tom knew when the game was up. There was no way he could outmaneuver one, let alone two, Blackhawks, and to even attempt it would get him needlessly shot down. He’d survived one helicopter crash, but he doubted he would survive a second one.

  Ten minutes later he landed his helicopter at an Italian military base.

  He let the blades slow down naturally and then waited for members of the SEALs to arrive.

  By the time the rotors had slowed down to the point where it would be impossible for him to take off instantly, several Navy SEALs came and ripped him out of the helicopter. He watched, bemused, as the highly-trained team took the helicopter apart in an attempt to find something.

  A large man, with short red hair, and a grin that said, “I’m gonna fuck you up,” approached him and said, “Okay, where is it?”

  “Where’s what?”

  The man looked at him, curiosi
ty as much as pleasure showing in his previously vacant eyes, and said, “Tom Bower, what the fuck are you doing caught up in all this?”

  *

  Blake Simmonds had seen the helicopter take off, and of all the people still on the ground, he alone knew for certain that it wasn’t carrying the virus. He believed the risk he’d taken with Tom Bower had been worthwhile. Bower had done just what he’d needed him to do. He was certain Sam Reilly would soon appear from that tunnel on the side of the mountain.

  “The helicopter’s finally taken off, sir.” It was the leader of his team, Mark Osborne, who then asked, “Do we have a secondary target?”

  “Yes. The hole left by the explosion is the opening from which our target is going to exit. I am certain of it,” Blake said.

  “Will he be swimming, sir?”

  “I have no idea. He definitely doesn’t have any SCUBA equipment. He may have a raft, but nothing else. The priority here is to take control of that side of the mountain, so we can secure the opening before he gets through it.”

  “Understood.”

  Blake watched as Mark issued a number of quick orders to the other men on his team.

  Around Lake Solitude, the firefight between the Navy SEALs and Blake’s team of mercenaries continued on into the night.

  *

  John Wolfgang climbed aboard the Blackhawk helicopter, as it hovered just a few feet above the mountain peak.

  He wasted no time.

  The outcome of the next hour would affect his entire life, and more importantly, Aliana’s.

  A muscled arm in military attire passed him a satellite phone.

  “It’s the commander on scene,” the soldier said, “He wants to speak to you, sir.”

  John took the phone, and said, “Hello, John Wolfgang here.”

  “This is SEAL Commander Ryan Walker here,” said the man’s voice with military efficiency, “We have a problem.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’ve forced the chopper to land, but it wasn’t on board.”

  “Shit! What about the Magdalena?” John asked, quickly.

  “What about her? We were told that she was stuck somewhere inside the mountain.”