The Sam Reilly Collection

by Christopher Cartwright

  Sam took in the man’s personality in an instant. He was being played with. “For the same reason as everyone else, of course. I want to find Atlantis.”

  “But surely you must know that Atlantis was a myth, created by Plato to torment the gullible minds of the Greeks and now you Americans?”

  “Ah, that’s most likely true, but I have a friend who has found herself in a certain kind of trouble, having gone looking for Atlantis, and now it’s my job to get her out of it. And you just happen to have the only clue that points to where she might have gone.”

  “Ah, so you are not so gullible after all, Mr. Reilly. You are doing this for honor? That is good. I have it. You may have it for the agreed upon price of 10 million euros. Would you like to examine it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Vincent made the slightest of curt nods, and a waiter came out an instant later. Removing the cloche revealed what Sam had come for.

  The Arcane Stone.

  It glowed unnaturally orange. It wasn’t gold, but it wasn’t copper either. And the luster was no less impressive than had it been pure gold. Even at the glance, Sam knew he was looking at the real Arcane Stone. He’d never seen real orichalcum, but this matched every description that Plato revealed of the alloy found only in Atlantis.

  “I’m going to have to take a small sample for metallurgical analysis.”

  “Of course. But if you break it you bought it.”

  “Only if it is indeed the Arcane Stone.”

  “I may be a criminal, but I’m no fool. I don’t try to rip people off for 10 million euros. My reputation is worth more than that!”

  Sam used his laser cutter and removed a fraction off the base, no more than a quarter of an ounce. “I will need to have this examined by a metallurgist before I make the purchase.”

  “Of course.”

  Sam nodded his head to another diner, who stood up, left the bill and came over to pick up the tiny metal fragment.

  “I’ll have the results for you within the hour Mr. Reilly.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Ramsay.”

  Vincent smiled at him. “A friend of yours?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to entrust 10 million euros to my high school level chemistry, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  The waiter returned to remove the artifact, and replace it with two plates. Sam put a hand on the artifact. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to have that stay right here. Not that I mistrust you or your men, Vincent, but I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the temptation to cheat me, either.”

  The waiter looked to Vincent for direction. “It’s okay Luc. You can leave it on the table. After all, they’ll pay for it before they leave.”

  Sam looked down at the escargot with just the slightest hint of uncertainty. Next to it, the waiter left the artifact, glowing with a rich orange and red luster.

  Vincent smiled. “Please, be my guest. Start eating. My lunch is still coming.”

  Sam’s stomach rumbled at the strange sight, but he forced himself to eat them. Despite its appearance, his lunch tasted every bit as divine as he’d expected from fine French cuisine.

  “Delicious!” Sam said.

  Vincent smiled. “Good, because I’ve always found them disgusting. That’s why I ordered the lobster.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parked facing a southerly direction, the engine of a single all-terrain vehicle idled at the onramp of Boulevard Jean Jaurès. Inside, Tom sat in the driver’s seat. Elise had arranged for the car to be left there for him at the edge of the old town of Le Vieux Nice. It was a Hummer H1, the original military version of the all-terrain vehicle, equipped with all the modern conveniences of a military vehicle, such as waterproof and gas proof interior with its own air supply, bullet proof windows and anti-mine undercarriage. Elise wasn’t taking any more chances with their lives.

  Tom had left Sam inside the restaurant, happily conversing with Vincent in fluent French, while he waited for approval to make the purchase of the Arcane Stone. Sam and Vincent had agreed on a standard untraceable Bitcoin transaction to a predetermined digital wallet of Vincent’s choosing. When Tom had left, it amazed him that Sam should so readily befriend the head of such a notorious criminal organization.

  Sometimes he forgot that Sam had lived a multitude of lives for a very long time. In fact, when he thought about it, Tom had no real idea when Sam had begun splitting his lives. He now knew about the event in Afghanistan in 2003, when Sam had been recruited for his specialized knowledge and skills set – Tom could only imagine that it was a euphemism for rich spy. Then there was the life he shared with his father, James Reilly who owned Global Shipping, the third largest cargo company in the world. James had a God complex, in which he really did feel he was superior to everyone. Last there was the guy he’d grown up with, competed with throughout high school and in the Corps – he was the man whose word was his honor, a binding contract without reservation; who had a powerful sense of duty that guided his every judgement.

  But what about this man? The one that could purchase from a ruthless criminal, because he needed something from the man. Tom wondered how far this Sam Reilly would break the rules if he needed to. And then he knew he’d already had the answer – the depths of the darkest world.

  Tom’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone.

  “Was it what you were after?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. You can pass on to my banker that I’d like to complete the transfer and to please have the engines on my jet running, so we can leave.”

  It was a prearranged code. If the artifact had been a fake, Sam would have told him to transfer the money, and Tom would have broken into the restaurant with his hired men.

  “Very good, Sam. I’ll let them know.”

  Tom quickly contacted Elise.

  “He’s happy.”

  Ten minutes later Sam climbed into the Hummer next to him.

  Côte d'Azur International Airport was just four miles southwest from them. There, a private jet was waiting, its turbines already turning in preparation of their arrival.

  “Did that seem a little too easy to you?” Tom asked, pulling onto Boulevard Jean Jaurès.

  “No, why?”

  “Oh come on, Sam!” Tom laughed. “We just went and bought ourselves a 10-million-euro ancient artifact from the head of a mafia whose reputation lauded him for being the most dangerous, influential and least forgiving head of any current criminal organization in Europe.

  “Yes, but people like that love people like us…” Sam looked at him. “Well, people like me. The very rich kind of buyers. I wasn’t there to haggle. I knew the product I wanted and I was willing to meet his terms to buy it. Why wouldn’t it go well?”

  “Because he’s a criminal! And criminals don’t play by the normal rules.”

  “Trust me. His reputation is more valuable to him than the 10 million euros.”

  Sam pulled out his hand gun, a Glock with silencer. He checked the cartridge was fully loaded.

  “What is it?” Tom asked.

  Sam looked like a kid preparing to play cowboys and Indians. “Nothing. It’s just our friends, the police officers. The ones who don’t play by the rules have been following us. That’s all.”

  Tom looked in the rearview mirror.

  Around three cars behind them, he saw the police car on their tail.

  “Damn it! Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I thought I just did!”

  “I meant when you first saw them.” Tom put his foot down and started increasing the gap.

  Instantly he saw the blue lights of the police car begin to flash, followed by the annoying drone of its siren.

  Tom sped up again.

  “Do you have a plan for outsmarting the police?” Sam asked.

  “Those aren’t the police, they’re Vincent’s men.”

  “All the same. They’re driving a police car and sounding very much like police officers.”
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  “So, what’s your plan?”

  “Let’s pull over and see what they want?”

  “That’s your plan? Are you nuts?”

  “We’re virtually driving a tank. What the hell are they going to do to us?”

  Resigned to see what happened, Tom shrugged his shoulders and pulled over.

  The police car pulled up in front of them and parked at an angle to their front, preventing them from returning to the main road again.

  Both officers got out of the car and calmly walked up to the driver’s side door.

  Tom lowered the window and smiled at the police officer. His name tag displayed the very non-French name, Jason. “I’m sorry. Was my brake light out?”

  “Vincent says he’s gonna need the Arcane Stone back.”

  Sam smiled unsympathetically. “Well gentlemen, you’d better tell Vincent to find another one, because we’re not interested in selling right now. Maybe in a few weeks, if he makes the right offer.”

  The police officer at the open window smiled stupidly, and then pointed his Ruger machinegun inside the Hummer. “I suggest you reconsider my offer. I don’t think Vincent’s going to….”

  Sam fired his Glock at point blank range – blowing the man’s head back with three rounds before he finished his sentence.

  Tom put his foot down, and the massive Hummer rammed through the parked police car.

  “Holy shit! Sam, a little heads up next time would be appreciated, before you start shooting people.”

  “Only amateurs want to chat. Didn’t they teach you to kill while they talk?” Sam said as he looked behind them. “On that subject. His partner’s right on our tail again, and unless I’m much mistaken, he’s brought friends.”

  Tom looked in his rearview mirror – there were at least four other crooked cop cars on the chase. “You got any plans?”

  Bullets harmlessly raked the back end of the Hummer.

  “Good to see this thing lives up to its expectation.”

  “Yeah, but for how long? I’m sure they’ll find something a little more powerful to fire at us if we overstay our welcome.”

  “Let’s not wait and find out.”

  A split second later the loud report of a sniper rifle echoed through Nice, quickly followed by a second and then a third one.

  Behind them, two police cars veered off the road – their drivers shot dead.

  “Who the hell did that?” Tom said, weaving in and out of traffic, trying to increase the gap that had been created.

  “That… I have no idea,” Sam replied. “No one aboard the Maria Helena could shoot like that. Perhaps Genevieve, but Matthew tells me she’s on leave. It might be Veyron? I wouldn’t put it past him to be an expert marksman.”

  Another four shots fired in quick succession and the drivers of each of the remaining four cars died.

  “Whoever it is, they’ve given me a chance to get clear. We should be at the airport in another few minutes.”

  And then Tom hit his brakes hard.

  An overturned garbage truck blocked the entire road. A road worker in high visibility work gear redirected them to the off ramp and back into the rabbit warren of the old city of Le Vieux Nice.

  “That can’t just be bad luck!” Tom griped.

  “No, I’d say Vincent’s bribes run pretty deep in this town.”

  He turned into the first left, hoping to avoid the old town with its tiny streets and narrow lanes. In the rearview mirror Tom saw a large bulldozer turn to follow them. “We can outrun it!” At the end of that street, he turned right.

  Taking him back to the center of the old town, near where they’d had lunch.

  And into a dead end.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sam looked up ahead.

  There was no way the Hummer was going to go any further. Behind them, the bulldozer had raised its digger menacingly.

  “End of the ride kids,” Tom said.

  They both quickly got out and tried to make their way further down the laneway. The bulldozer drove over the top of their Hummer, squashing it like an aluminum can.

  Sam looked at his Glock. It felt highly inadequate against their attacker.

  The driver of the bulldozer stopped momentarily to lower the digger so it scraped along the ground and the walls of the buildings. Sam looked around. There were no doors or windows that might provide an escape route. If they waited where they were, they’d be dead in a matter of seconds.

  Sam took careful aim at the man high up in the driver’s seat – and fired.

  The first shot went wide by several inches.

  He carefully aimed and fired again. This time it was a dead on target, but the bulldozer’s windscreen had been designed to protect the driver from high velocity projectiles likely to be thrown up during road construction. The bullet sent a ripple like cracked ice through the windscreen, but never came close to hitting the driver.

  Sam fired another three shots.

  Finding himself out of ammo, he dropped his clip and loaded another, emptying it into the driver’s windscreen.

  But the driver continued.

  High above them in the church tower Sam recognized Vincent with a sniper rifle. For a moment he expected to be the next one shot dead.

  The sound of another loud report echoed through the narrow lane. Sam looked toward Tom, expecting to find him killed. Instead, the driver slumped forward. The bulldozer then turned slightly to the right, and imbedded itself into the brick wall.

  Vincent quickly slid down a rope and approached them. “I believe that’s all of them. You should be free to catch your flight.”

  Tom looked at Sam. “I guess that’s how he manages to hold his position as the head of the crime syndicate.”

  Sam smiled and in perfect French said, “Thank you. We owe you one.”

  “No you don’t. You paid 10 million on the black market for an archeological device. We may be criminals, but we don’t like other people stealing from our clients. After all, if word gets around that we’re running a corrupt shop here, people won’t want to do business with us anymore.”

  “Thank you.” Sam smiled at the crook. “If it’s all the same. I’ll have someone wire you another million dollars in Bitcoins as a bonus.”

  “Keep it,” Vincent replied.

  “There’s going to be trouble here. A lot of people died. It’s going to be on the news everywhere. Someone’s going to want answers,” Sam said.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about me. I have deep pockets, and almost everyone from the ground up in this town owes me something. You go. I’ll fix it.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Sam said, offering his hand.

  Vincent took it and replied, “Oh, and another thing. You might want to know that we had strong interest from another buyer recently. He’d even offered to outbid you earlier today, but I told him it was already sold. Said he could double the pay if I got it back for him. Probably why some of my men worked with whoever these mercenaries are to steal it from you. Either way, the man seemed pretty determined. You might be in trouble. I’d hate for you to have another close call with an accident.”

  “Thanks for the heads up. Did you happen to get his name?”

  “Yes. Andrew Brandt.”

  Sam had never heard of the man before, but the surname was too much of a coincidence to ignore. “Okay, thanks. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Andrew Brandt accepted his secure message.

  “Did you get it?”

  “No. They got to it first.”

  “What about Jason? I thought he had a plan? After all, we paid him a big enough advance that he should have got the job done!”

  “Jason’s dead.”

  Andrew wanted to punch something. “He’s lucky. I don’t take well to failures. Especially two in one day.”

  “What do you want me to do, boss?”

  “Stay with the good Dr. Swan, and see where they get to. If you find out anything more let me know.�
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  “Very good, Mr. Brandt. And where are you going to be?”

  “I’m heading to Nepal, to fix up your fuckup.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Five Treasures of Snow – Nepal.

  Three Weeks Remaining

  The town of Lukla came into view as the Dornier Do 228 banked to the right and commenced its final approach into Tenzing-Hillary airport, Nepal. High above the steep-sided Dudh Khosi valley, snow-covered mountains appeared to surround the aircraft. The highest among them, Mount Everest, stood proud to the left of their horizon.

  The twin-turboprop STOL, which stood for short takeoff and landing, had been specifically modified as one of four commercial aircraft currently in service capable of transporting climbers to the closest airport to Mount Everest base camp. Ahead of them, a single runway of just 1729 feet sloped in a not-so-gradual upwards direction, terminating in a near vertical rock wall dwarfed by a mountain, which made the prospect of a successful go around due to a short final impossible.

  Sam Reilly nudged Tom, who snored loudly.

  Despite being six foot four, Tom Bower had somehow managed to stretch his strong, lanky body out over the pile of climbing bags stowed in front of him, and remained sound asleep.

  “Get up Tom, you’re about to miss it!”

  Tom purposely rolled to his right, away from Sam, and replied, “Miss what?”

  “We’re coming in to land at Tenzing-Hillary airport!”

  “That’s great, buddy,” he replied, and then pulled his climbing hood over his head and returned to his deep sleep.

  “Don’t you want to watch the landing? This was once voted the most dangerous airport in the world!”

  “I flew into here years ago when I did some high altitude training with the Corps.” Tom’s voice sounded almost bored. “It’s perfectly safe, so long as the pilots don’t screw it up.”

  The plane jolted with the constant buffeting as they descended closer toward the town of Lukla. There were only two runways. Runway 06 for landings, and its reciprocal, 24, for takeoffs. One way in and one out. Sam watched with a mixture of respect and awe, as the two Nepalese pilots worked fastidiously in the cockpit to bring them safely toward the runway. This meant that, despite the strong crosswind, the pilots had no other option than to land the plane.