The Sam Reilly Collection

by Christopher Cartwright

  They brought the nose down at the last minute, and braked hard.

  The aircraft came to a rolling stop with no more than 60 feet remaining before reaching the rock ending of the runway. The pilot then turned the plane to the small square of tarmac, where he came to a complete stop.

  Sam nudged Tom again. “You missed it! Impressive landing. Nicely done.”

  Tom rolled over. “We’re here are we? Damn. I just got back to sleep!”

  Sam grabbed his climbing bag and two duffle bags’ worth of equipment. They weren’t travelling light, but they would have more than enough help to carry it all. At the bottom of the plane’s airsteps, a man in a pilot’s uniform stood holding a banner with the words, “Welcome Reilly Party.” The man had blond hair, pale white skin and blue eyes, making his appearance distinctly different than the local Nepalese pilots, or Sherpas.

  “Hello. Mr. Reilly?”

  “Please, call me Sam.” He offered his hand. “This is my friend, Tom.”

  “Welcome to Nepal.” The man smiled warmly and accepted Sam’s handshake. “My name is Dmitry Grekov.”

  “You’re Russian?” Sam noted, out of interest.

  “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

  “I thought Nepal was a little more parochial with those who they employ high up in the mountains?”

  Dmitry picked up their duffle bags and began walking toward the chartered helicopter. “Yes, they like to support the employment of the local people first. But since the Eurocopter AS350 B3 came into operation, all that changed.”

  “Really, how so?” Sam asked.

  “The B3 is capable of operating above 23,000 feet, raising the mountain rescue ceiling to new heights. With good cellular reception now being maintained throughout the mountains, the opportunity of high altitude rescue has become a reality. Both search-and-rescue and commercialization in the region are taking another large, if lurching, step forward. B3s have been a fixture for decades in other mountain destinations, especially the Alps, where they have saved hundreds of lives. But in Nepal, B3s had until recently seen limited use. Consequently, they were short on high altitude pilots. And so I came here. I have been here nearly three years now, and I like it.”

  “And you have plenty of experience flying at high altitude?” Sam asked.

  “More than anyone else.” Dmitri smiled graciously. “That is, more than any other alpine pilot still alive. I have clocked more than 10,000 hours of high altitude flying. Nearly 3,000 of that is above 20,000 feet.”

  “That’s impressive,” Sam agreed. “Good, because where we’re going we may need every bit of that experience.”

  “And where would you like to go?” Dmitri raised his right eyebrow, out of curiosity more than apprehension. He hadn’t come to the Himalayas to be careful.

  “I’m not sure yet. But for now, I need to have a good vantage point to view the Five Treasures of Snow.”

  Tom appeared to lose interest in the story as he became distracted by an airplane taking off. A DHC-6 Twin Otter was picking up speed on the tiny runway. On its side, in large lettering were the words: Yeti Airlines. “Christ, almighty! Sam did you know that we landed on that runway?”

  “I might have mentioned something about that Tom.”

  “And here is your chartered helicopter,” Dmitri said. “As requested, I kept your climbing party small. You both said you were capable of carrying your own equipment while you climb?”

  “Yes.”

  There were two small mountain men standing by the side of the Eurocopter. Both appeared much older than Sam had expected for climbing guides. The younger one appeared maybe forty, while the older one was at least sixty.

  “Sam. Tom. May I introduce your guides, Lakpa and Pemba? Two of the most capable climbers in all the Himalayas. Legend has it their family have been living in these mountains for thousands of years.”

  Sam and Tom both shook their hands.

  “Do you speak English?” Sam asked.

  “I do, but my father does not,” Lakpa replied.

  Sam examined the two men. There was nothing special about them. They wore expensive western climbing clothes, and appeared smaller than he’d expect for people who were capable of climbing to great heights while carrying huge weights. One appeared too old for climbing – at least sixty. The other, too young. For a moment, he wondered if he was being duped. He’d paid top money for his guides, and he’d been explicit that he wanted the very best. For where he was going, they would earn every penny.

  He shook the worry from his mind. It didn’t matter. They would be better than either he or Tom, and what they really needed wasn’t an expert climber, they needed a guide to help them interpret the directions of the Arcane Stone.

  Dmitri looked at him, a curious expression on his face. “Tell me, Sam. Where would you like to go?”

  “Do you know where Tiger Hill is?”

  “Deerjing? Of course. It’s said to have the most exquisite view of the Five Treasures of Snow of anywhere in the Himalayas.”

  “Good. Take us there.”

  “It’s in Sikkim, though.” Dmitri looked up from walking around the helicopter and performing his preflight checks. “I can arrange the… ah… visas, but it will cost more money.”

  “We’ll pay.”

  “Then climb aboard. We’re off to see the Five Treasures of Snow in all their majestic beauty.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sam stared at the Five Treasures of Snow from Tiger Hill. More than a dozen tourists looked up at the great mountains. In the morning, the place would be overrun with hundreds of them, all searching for the perfect shot of the golden peaks at sunrise. He took out his tablet and checked some notes that Billie had made. This was the spot. That much was certain, but where was the rock?

  He looked at Lakpa, the younger of the two Sherpas. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Yes, many years ago. We came to pray to the Five Treasures of Snow.”

  “Have you ever seen a rock like this?”

  Lakpa examined the old drawings of the rock. “Yes. The locals say that it is a holy rock. It is made from granite, which is not found for hundreds of miles from here. They say that it was a gift from their gods.”

  “Then why don’t the crowds of people form there?” Sam asked, with genuine curiosity.

  “Because the original people of these mountains, the Kusunda people, have forbidden it. They say that only the true ancients of the region are allowed to go there and pray.” Lakpa looked up at Sam and asked, “Why do you ask?”

  “Because that’s where I need to be tomorrow when the sun first strikes the Five Treasures of Snow.”

  Lakpa frowned. “I’m afraid it’s forbidden.”

  “We have to be there for tomorrow’s sunrise. If we aren’t, then we have wasted our time with this entire expedition.”

  Lakpa spoke to his father in his native language in rapid succession. And then looked back at Sam and Tom. “My father says, if it is that important to you, he will show you where it is. But that we can’t go with you. The Gods will be angry, and he strongly advises you not to climb the mountains afterwards.”

  “I understand the risk. But I need to do so.”

  Lakpa nodded. “I understand.”

  They reached the granite boulder approximately two hours later. It was west of Tiger Hill by a further two miles. Their guides refused to climb it, or even walk to its base. Lapka advised them that he and his father would be resting near the helicopter after sunrise tomorrow. Sam and Tom both thanked him and began climbing the boulder.

  It was roughly the size of a small house, and appeared as though God himself had placed it there. The hills of Sikkim and specifically Tiger Hill consist of half-schistose rocks, producing a shallow brown clay soil, highly susceptible to erosion. By contrast, the hard and massive granite boulder had survived thousands of years of erosion from the environment, with little to no change in its appearance.

  Sam reached the top of the ancient
boulder first. He looked north toward the Five Treasures of Snow. The main peak and its immediate satellites take the form of a giant cross straddling the borders of three countries – Nepal, Tibet, and the once independent kingdom but now Indian state of Sikkim. From what he’d read, the great cluster of peaks was highly glaciated and cradled five major glacial systems. Three of these, the Zemu, Talung, and Rathong, lie to the east of the massif and flow into Sikkim, eventually feeding the mighty Tista River. In Nepal, to the west, the Kangchenjunga and Yalung glaciers form the major sources of the Tamur River. The region is called Five Treasures of Snow after its five high peaks, and has always been worshipped by the people of Darjeeling and Sikkim.

  “This is it,” Sam said, reverently.

  Tom stared up at the mountains in the distance, his face pensive.

  “It’s going to be somewhere up there, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so. Anywhere else, someone would have found it by now.”

  The two men made camp on the rock, and that night the two of them ate a dinner of hot stew before going to bed early in preparation for the next day. The sky was clear, and from their vantage point the millions of stars blended into the horizon, so that it was hard for your imagination not to run wild, and your spirit dream.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Tom asked.

  “Billie? Are you kidding me? That woman’s tougher than rusty nails and smarter than either of us. She’ll have a plan. They won’t kill her. Certainly not until they’ve found Atlantis. And while she holds that card above them, she will have all the time in the world to find a solution.”

  “And that solution is that we reach Atlantis first.”

  “And we will,” Sam said and then went to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At 4 a.m., Sam woke up and prepared for sunrise.

  Tom drank from a warm thermos of tea.

  “Based on the translations of the ancient texts that Billie discovered on the walls of Atlantis, when placed at the center of this rock Arcane Stone would allow the viewer to redirect the sunlight of the first light to the precise location of the secret opening. Impossible to visualize from the ground, it allows a climber to descend into its heart.”

  “But if the sun changes based on the time of the year, surely it must now be inaccurate?”

  “That’s true. But the ancient Atlantean people were smarter than you give them credit for. If you look closely at our new toy, you will see that it rotates around an axis, in which twelve different settings may be selected.”

  “The months of the year?”

  “Precisely.”

  Sam handed Tom the device to examine again.

  He rotated its base with the sound of a small click and said, “Twelve settings. The first being highlighted by a snowflake, presumably winter solstice and a sun for summer solstice?”

  “It’s the start of July, so shall we set it to the next setting after Summer?”

  “No, if the Sun reflects summer solstice, then we need to rotate one setting backwards, for the month before the hottest day of the year.”

  “Good point.”

  Sam cleared away some of the petals of the giant rhododendron flowers, which had built up on the large boulder.

  Then he felt it.

  His fingers clearly dipped into the middle of the rock.

  It wasn’t a deep indentation, but certainly too specific to be caused by natural erosion. Once he’d cleared it of leaves and petals, he placed the base of the Arcane Stone into the groove.

  The stem sunk perfectly into it and the device locked.

  “Now what?” Tom asked.

  “Now, we wait for the sun to rise.”

  At precisely 5:05 the sun came over the mountain.

  Sam stared through the looking glass.

  Instantly the orange glow of the sunlight moved from where it shone on the first mountain to midway up the third – Kangchenjunga.

  Sam took a GPS Laser Pointer and marked the location on the mountain.

  “Well, Tom. There’s our mountain.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let’s go inform our guides that they’re helping us climb the world’s most lethal mountain.”

  An hour later, Sam found the two guides sitting by the helicopter. Dmitri, their pilot, was asleep in the cockpit.

  “Lakpa, we’ve picked our mountain.”

  “Good. Which one?”

  “Kangchenjunga.”

  “Kangchenjunga? And what year would you like to climb?”

  “This. Starting today, to be exact.”

  The man laughed, and then stopped suddenly. “You are serious?”

  “Yes. How long will it take?”

  “A week,” Lakpa said. Then, turning to speak to his father, who, he advised them, was the best climber in all the Himalayas.

  The two conversed in their native tongue. A short, fast, discussion.

  “My father says you are both very brave. And must be great climbers to even consider such a mountain. Where have you climbed previously?”

  “You can tell him that we have climbed extensively through the Dolomite Mountain Ranges – last season to be exact.”

  Lakpa spoke with his father and then back to them.

  “My father says the Dolomite Mountains are excellent for technical skills, but you need endurance as well as skills to climb Kangchenjunga.”

  Sam grinned.

  He wasn’t about to tell his new found admirer that his recent climbing experience, in its entirety involved a three-day weekend hike along the Via Ferrata, or iron stairway, in Italy while searching for The Magdalena – a Jewish airship lost while escaping Nazi Germany.

  “You can tell him that Tom and I are exceedingly fit people. We may not be the greatest climbers that your father has ever set eyes on, but we have stamina and a purpose for a climb that will drive us to succeed where others have failed.”

  “My father says you speak like a true Tiger. But only a Jackal takes money from a fool.”

  “Then tell him that he will be a very rich Jackal, because I have a lot to give, and a purpose that necessitates climbing that mountain. I have to find an ancient temple that I hope will provide answers that may save my friend’s life.”

  Pemba faced Sam, and spoke in perfect English. “I will take you up the Kangchenjunga. But when you fail, I will not risk my life, nor the lives of my men, trying to save your stupid self. Is that agreed?”

  “Yes, perfectly.” Sam laughed. “You speak English?”

  “I’ve been guiding English people over these mountains since I was eight years old. Of course I speak bloody English. I only pretend ignorance, because I can’t stand to speak to tourists. But you, I see, are seeking the ancient archives of Atlantis.”

  Tom opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself, unable to find the right words.

  Sam said, “So, you know about Atlantis?”

  “Of course I do. My people once descended from there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Tsoka Monastery was perched at 12,000 feet and nearing the end of the Goecha La Route. Kangchenjunga stood proud behind them, surrounded by other majestic snow-covered mountains.

  Sam shook Dmitri’s hand and said, “We’ll give you a call in a few months for our return flight.”

  “No problem. I will be waiting for it. Have you decided on a mountain to climb?”

  “No,” Sam lied. “At this stage we’re going to hike the Goecha La Route and acclimatize with the plan to summit one of these mountains before the end of the climbing season.”

  “Good luck.”

  After the helicopter left, the small party began its long walk toward Kangchenjunga. They had more altitude to make up before they reached the place where they would climb. Pemba had told them both it would be impossible to climb the mountain without at least a week to acclimatize.

  Sam had protested that he had no intention of reaching the summit. Only abo
ut one third of the way up. Even so, Pemba provided him with the ultimatum – “Hike in or find another guide.” And so, they began their journey.

  It took them through a thick rhododendron forest, and fir, festooned with lichen and moss, which gave it a truly magical air. At Phedang they passed a large grassy clearing surrounded by large purple rhododendrons.

  Several hours into the journey, Pemba and Lapka led by hundreds of feet. Tom trailed only just behind Sam, not because he couldn’t keep up, but instead because he was enjoying the magnificence of his environment. The Clematis Montana, with its typical purple flowers, encapsulated the mountainside.

  Tom caught up with Sam. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s beautiful here.”

  “Not about the place.” Tom looked up ahead at their guides. “About them?”

  “They seem competent so far.”

  “No. What do you make of their story about descending from Atlantis?”

  “I believe them. How else would they know about it? We hadn’t told them anything about why we wanted to climb Kangchenjunga.”

  Tom looked concerned. “What about their looks? They don’t even look German.”

  “Who said that the people of Atlantis were the great ancestors of Germany?”

  “Hitler did, when he sent Himmler to go in search of the perfect Aryan bloodline.”

  “Hitler said a lot of things that weren’t true when he was driving his propaganda machine. You don’t think he was going to say, ‘Hey, here’s another race who were exceptional. They look nothing like us, but they were really clever.”’

  “Fair point. I just assumed because we found the Arcane Stone in the Dutch National Archives...”

  Sam began explaining. “Neolithic tools found in the Kathmandu Valley indicate that people have been living in the Himalayan region for at least eleven thousand years. Coincidence?”