The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 3

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The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 3 Page 12

by Christopher Cartwright


  “Are you kidding me?” Sadik asked. “There’s been hundreds over the years. My country is rich in history, but poor in agriculture. Besides, our position in the region has seen us take in more than our fair share of refugees over the years.”

  “Okay, okay. Could he be referring to one of these famines?”

  “It’s possible, but I can’t see how any discovery of an ancient historical artifact might allow him to make his point about an old or recent famine. Can you?”

  “No. But it’s the only lead I have so far.”

  Tom returned a few minutes later. He was breathing fast, like he’d just been running.

  Sam asked, “Anything?”

  Tom shook his head. “The tunnels are empty on this side of Derinkuyu all the way to the locked grates that block the tourists entering this side of the city to the south. I couldn’t hear the sound of anyone inside the tourist section, either. So we should be safe, for the time being.”

  “Good,” Sam said. “Because I need to get back down there.”

  Sadik stared at him. “Are you nuts?”

  Tom answered for Sam. “Most of the time.”

  “Why would you want to go back down there?” Sadik persisted. “Don’t you understand he’s coming back, soon?”

  “Does he have a key?” Sam asked.

  “No. But he’s expecting you to be here tomorrow.”

  Sam pulled his wetsuit back over his shoulders. “Then all the more reason we’ll have to make sure we’re done before then.”

  “You don’t want to just forget about it, and leave now?” Sadik asked.

  “No. Few people go to the trouble you’ve just described to kill a person in an underground water cistern. I want to know why? And besides, I still haven’t found what I came here to get.”

  Sadik walked toward the door. “Well I don’t want to stay any longer. I need to get out. Everything’s changed if he’s willing to kill someone.”

  Tom blocked his progress. “I’m afraid we really can’t let you leave. Not now. Even if I trusted you, which I don’t, I can’t risk you notifying whoever this freak is outside that we know he’s going to come for us.”

  Sam attached his carabiner to the end of the rope. “Relax. I won’t be a minute longer than I need to be. What are you afraid of? Tom’s here to look after everything and I assure you he has enough built up rage to take on even your demon.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sam descended into the well again, slipped into his new dive tanks, and headed north. He switched his flashlight off and waited a couple minutes for any other sign of life. There were none. He was all alone, with the safety of the darkness. He flicked his light on, and continued swimming. It didn’t take him long to swim the two hundred and fifty odd feet to reach it.

  About thirty feet away from the stairwell he spotted the dead diver, exactly where he’d left it. He switched his flashlight off and searched again for any other source of light. His eyes focused on the base of the stairs and the opening above them – searching for evidence someone was inside. The last thing he wanted was to be confronted by Sadik’s demon as he climbed out of the water. Sam waited a little over a minute before switching his own light on and swimming toward the steps. The steps were formed out of white pumice, and ran all the way to the bottom of the water cistern. They were most likely used by the original builders of the underground structure, as a means of access when it was first being dug.

  Sam breathed out gently as he slowly floated to where the steps met the surface. He took the regulator out of his mouth and flashed his light across the open space above. An entrance roughly four feet wide, by six feet high led to what appeared to be another stone chamber. He glanced around quickly, and listened for any sound coming from above. Hearing none, he removed his dive tanks and fins.

  He removed the Glock 31 from a Velcro pocket on his right thigh. It was the same type of weapon the Navy Seals used. Equipped with a special firing pin, known as a spring cup, the weapon fired consistently post prolonged submersion in water. Normal spring cups are solid plastic, maritime spring cups have two channels cut into them to allow water to flow past them and empty out of the firing pin chamber, so that it can move fast enough to fire the handgun. The gun can fire submerged. The purpose of the maritime cups is that if the gun is submerged it can be retrieved and fired without having to perform maintenance. He drew it into a firing position with his right hand and switched on its Viridian tactical light and green targeting laser with his left.

  Sam switched off his dive flashlight and carefully climbed the stairs. His feet felt cold on the porous steps. He moved his weapon around until he had a good vision of the entrance ahead. He cupped the light at the end of his weapon and searched one last time for any sign of an alternative source of light up ahead. Finding none, he slowly entered through the stone doorway.

  Inside was a small stone chamber that appeared to lead nowhere. His eyes swept the room. It was possibly twenty feet in length by roughly ten wide. Its walls looked as though they had been made by digging away the volcanic stone using primitive tools. There was nothing about its construction that resembled the level of technological refinement and finesse achieved by the ancient Master Builders.

  At the center of the room stood a large desk, made with the same porous stone found throughout the entire underground city. Sam glanced around the room. He ran his left hand around the walls searching for any hidden doorways. The entire room, right down to the stone desk, appeared to have come from the same piece of geology. Everything was solid, and Sam felt confident there were no secret openings.

  He switched on the brighter dive flashlight and holstered his Glock to his right thigh. He covered the weapon with its Velcro strap and sat down at the desk. To his right were two small alcoves carved into the side of the desk. He reached inside and found two wooden placards.

  Sam placed his flashlight on the desk like an ornamental reading lamp, and withdrew the two wooden placards. The writing on each of them was in the ancient script of the Master Builders. He carefully studied the words.

  First Temple – Failed

  Second Temple – Failed

  Sam turned each of the wooden placards over. There was nothing written on the other side of them. He placed them back on the table. He ran his fingers across his forehead and through his thick, brown hair. Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Everything that had happened in the past few days… the murdered diver, the threats to Sadik, everything pointed to this hidden chamber – and it was a hidden chamber, designed from its first use to be kept a secret, away from the rest of the inhabitants of Derinkuyu – all of it, amounted to what? Sam glanced around the room – a strange empty chamber, a desk, and two wooden placards written in an ancient script, and referring to two temples, which had failed.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  Sam dropped his hands to the table and started to laugh – because he suddenly noticed the walls in front of him weren’t blank. They had only appeared blank because of the bright LED light from his weapon. Under the less harsh glow of his dive light, the drawings along all of the walls suddenly glowed fluorescent green.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam stood up. His head was only about ten inches from the ceiling. His eyes swept the wall in front of him, as he moved quickly around the table to get a better view. The drawings were faded, as though the original artist had long since moved on, and his or her fragile landscapes had withered away in the same process. Even so, there was no mistaking the outline of the pictures.

  They formed a primitive outline of the African continent, Mediterranean Sea through to the Black Sea. An asterisk was observed in the middle of the Black Sea. It was approximately fifty miles out from Istanbul, if the drawings were to a correct scale. Next to this, was the name, Mary Rose, 1653 – First failed expedition. Sam studied it for a few minutes, making sure he read each word correctly.

  Expedition to what?

  His eyes glanced around the rest of the
painting. A small drawing of a ship was marked off the coast of Istanbul. The ship was followed by a series of dashes leading to an area about two thirds of the way down the west coast of Africa. An asterisk had been marked at the end of the line of dashes, and next to it were the words, Emerald Star, followed by the date 1655. Next to that, were the words, Current Location: Unknown. Second failed expedition – all hope is lost. With the exception of the ship’s name, everything was written in the ancient script used by the Master Builders.

  Sam took several photos of the image before moving on to the other walls. They were sparsely covered in the ancient script with no other images. They looked like notes, searching for the ship named the Emerald Star. It was last seen off the southwestern coast of Africa, where a large desert met the sea in 1556. Sam continued to decipher the writings. Apparently the ship possessed the key to the Third Temple – whatever the hell that was – but despite extensive searches, the ship was never located again. It was presumed sunk, and with its loss, all hope for humanity sunk to the seabed below.

  The Third Temple?

  It was the name that Sadik had mentioned, although neither of them knew what it was. He’d never heard the name before today. He recalled the First Temple of the Master Builders ever discovered. It was in Khyber Pass of Afghanistan. They’d never found a second temple. And had never heard of there being a third temple.

  Sam stared at the words again – Key to the Third Temple. Was it in reference to a place, or an event? Could it be the third cataclysmic die off since humanity’s existence? The rise of a third and massive event leading to widespread die off? He backed away from the wall, as though it might provide another perspective, and with it some more sense.

  On the next wall was a simple map of the west coast of Africa. Most of the image was left unfilled, but inside what would now most likely be considered the Namibian Desert, a drawing of a large pyramid was observed. He’d never heard of any pyramid ever being found in the region. He made a mental note to have Elise do some computer searches for any reference to a pyramid within the region.

  Sam completed taking photos of the other walls, and the ceiling. He took one last glance around the room, searching for signs of any clues he might have missed. Confident that whatever secrets the walls held were now captured on his digital camera, Sam returned to the steps. He donned his dive equipment, and made the short journey back to the well – to where answers might be waiting for him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam climbed out of the well. He quickly disconnected his carabiner from the end of the rope and started to remove his wetsuit. He glanced at Sadik, who appeared to be sweating harder than when Sam had left. He seemed to be battling that internal decision to run or wait it out – but for what, though?

  Sam was wet, cold and hungry and all of these feelings were worsened by his heightened senses over Sadik’s betrayal. It made him work quickly to remove their equipment. He decided he would throw the tanks and climbing gear into the well. Better to lose them than have Sadik’s demon know they had finished their project.

  Sadik approached, quickly. “Tell me, did you find anything?”

  “Yeah. There’s another room below this one.”

  “What was inside?”

  “More writing like the one you found.”

  “What did it say?” Sadik persisted.

  “Not much,” Sam said. “Someone was searching for a ship a long time ago called the Emerald Star. Does that name ring a bell to you?”

  Sadik shook his head. “No. Sorry.”

  “Me neither,” Sam said. “What about the Third Temple?”

  “We have a lot of temples in Cappadocia. Is there anything particular that identifies the one you’re after?”

  “No.”

  “Now what?” Sadik asked.

  “Now, we must thank you muchly. Tom and I have to go. We’re going to have to search for this ship, if it’s still afloat somewhere, we’ll find it.”

  “And if it’s already sunk?” Sadik asked.

  “Then we’ll still find it, but it might just take a lot longer.”

  Tom started to disconnect the pieces that grouped together to make the winching tripod. “What do you want to do with the equipment, Sam?”

  Sam looked at it. He’d used much of it over the past decade on various expeditions and he had a strange sentimental value to the dive gear, but he couldn’t have anyone report they were finished with their search. “Ditch it.”

  “All of it?”

  Sam nodded.

  Tom took apart the last of the winching tripod and threw the pieces into the well, where they sunk to the bottom. Sam dropped the heavy dive tanks into the well. Despite being full of compressed air, they were negatively buoyant and dropped like stones.

  “What did you find?” Tom asked.

  “There were some old drawings, most likely done by one of the Master Builders. They looked like notes, searching for a ship named the Emerald Star. It was last seen off the southern coast of Africa, where a large desert met the sea in 1655. Apparently it held the key to the Third Temple – whatever the hell that was – but despite extensive searches, the ship was never located again. It was presumed sunk, somewhere.”

  “What do you want to do?” Tom asked.

  “Let’s get back to the Maria Helena and see if Elise can track this ship down for us. Also, see if she can find any reference to the Third Temple.”

  Sam crouched down to exit the washroom. He moved quickly, with Sadik following close behind and Tom casually following. They made it to the level above and nearly a hundred and fifty feet through the tunnel before they were stopped.

  Three men approached at a walking pace. Two were armed with Winchester shotguns, with their barrels crudely sawn off. If either of the two men pulled their triggers, the effects of the short barrel would send a barrage of pellets down the tunnel with obliterating force.

  A tall man at the center of the small group strolled with his hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid that’s far enough, Mr. Reilly.”

  “Far enough for what exactly?” Sam asked. His tone was curious and nonplussed.

  “They said you were a confident bastard.” The stranger smiled. “Of course, they didn’t mention you were stupid.”

  “He gets that a lot,” Tom said.

  The stranger ignored him. “I’m afraid neither of you is going to the surface.”

  “Who are you?” Sam asked.

  “No one of significance,” the man said.

  His face appeared gaunt. It was narrow, with a patrician nose and high cheekbones. It was an ascetic face, like a monk or worshiper of self-sacrifice. He wore black robes. Hanging from his neck was a single pendant of a crucifix. At its center rode a horse of pure obsidian. Its rider carried a pair of weighing scales. It gave Sam Reilly the slightest of pauses. Violent criminals are dangerous, but the greatest of fear should be reserved for with those religious zealots who believe they are acting for a higher cause. Criminals can be reasoned with on a human level. Greed, desire, need, lust – these are all things that a criminal can understand, but religious zealots are operating under a divine order that no mere mortal can begin to understand.

  Sam stared at the man’s face. “What are you after?”

  The man spoke slowly, as though he was giving a sermon or making a prayer. “I’m looking for the Death Mask.”

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “A sacred artifact. Something that will prove invaluable in the days to come.”

  “The days to come?” Sam asked. “What’s coming?”

  The man looked pitifully down upon Sam. “Haven’t you read your Bible?”

  “Not lately.”

  “The end of days is approaching. It’s time to seek shelter – and the Death Mask is the only way to reach the Third Temple.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Famine, and my day of glory is coming soon.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam glanced at the tw
o men holding sawn off shotguns, and back to the man in black robes. Religious zealot or not, the man meant business. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to tell me exactly what you discovered inside the hidden chamber.”

  “Why should I do that if you’re going to kill me anyway?” Sam asked.

  “Because if you don’t I will torture you first and then kill you.”

  Tom said, “You must be the one called skinny?”

  Sam said, “I think he said his name was famine.”

  “So that’s it, then?” Sam asked. He glanced at Sadik. “You were always going to kill us, weren’t you?”

  Sadik said, “I’m sorry. They have my family.”

  Tom moved on instinct. His movements were quick and sharp. Tom held Sadik in front of him like a human shield, with his arm digging heavily into the man’s throat and the Glock pressed hard into the back of Sadik’s head. “Yeah, I’m sorry, but I have a family, too.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sam took in his situation in a silent glance. The two goons held the barrels of their shotguns low, as though they had all the time in the world to lift the barrels and shoot if they needed to. They looked bored, relaxed, like someone who’d spent their lives serving a master who always won by fighting with superior numbers. The ringleader was the worst. He was tall, and his face betrayed a hardened confidence of a man whose mere name evoked fear – Famine. Tom had Sadik, and he had nothing. They both had a pair of Glocks while the enemy had a pair of shotguns. They knew now that Tom was armed, but they didn’t know Sam was.

  Famine laughed and said, “There are three of us. We’re armed, and you’re not. Derinkuyu is crawling with my men, and every one of them is on their way here, as we speak. So, what do you think you’re going to do?”

  Tom tightened his grip on Sadik’s neck. “I could snap his neck?”

  Famine shrugged. “It would save me the trouble of having to go through the messy process of killing him and his family.”

 

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