The Last Airship (17 page)

He
was startled when a large fish swept past his leg.

It
was the first sign of underwater life he’d seen, just as he was beginning to
believe that the lake was utterly devoid of life.

At
first, there was a total scarcity of underwater life, but as they descended
deeper, the presence of large eels, crustaceans, and other fish became
apparent. 

“What
do you think that thing is?” It was Tom who first spotted it approach.

It
was a large fish, with a strange, bioluminescent organ hanging from a rod which
protruded from its forehead and dangled in front of its face. The creature
looked made up, or more like the type of creature you might have expected to
have evolved at the bottom of the ocean, certainly not in a lake more than ten
thousand feet above sea level.

“A
night-light fish?” Sam guessed, flippantly.

“Yeah,
I wouldn’t have thought that a fish would need a light in this lake. Even at
180 feet, some light should be able to penetrate to its bottom. I wonder if
things change in the winter when the lake freezes over.”

“Maybe…
or perhaps there is a more substantial system of caves and tunnels elsewhere
around here, which has created a unique environment for such a species of fish,”
Tom said.

“Okay,
we’re at 150 feet. If the Magdalena’s here, we should be able to see her on the
lake bottom soon.”

Sam
flicked on his powerful LED and pointed it towards the floor of the lake.

What
looked back at him scared him more than any creature of the sea ever could.

Below
him lay the wrecked remains of a B26 bomber, in almost pristine condition. A
single crack in its fuselage, just large enough for a man to swim through,
could be seen at its rear, but otherwise, the cold environment had preserved
her in the same condition as the day she crashed.

Sam
angled his torch toward the front of the aircraft until its light reached the
cockpit window. He paused just long enough to see the eyes of its long dead
pilot staring back at him.

Only,
it wasn’t a corpse.

It
was alive.

And
a second later, a light in the cockpit came on, followed by a second one.

Whatever
they’d found, Sam knew that someone else had just beaten them to it.

John
Wolfgang didn’t believe it when he received the report that Sam Reilly was
still alive, and that now he and Tom Bower, of all people, were preparing to
dive Lake Solitude. He was bewildered that the man had survived, not that he
knew much about him. On the other hand, he had known almost immediately when
he’d first met Tom Bower that he would be a hard man to deceive.

What
were they trying to achieve?

John
had understood, simply enough, that Sam had made the connection between the
threat on his  life, and his friend, Kevin Reed’s discovery of the gold,
followed by the subsequent unexplained death of Kevin and his wife, Sally, and
that he had then come searching for the Magdalena. What puzzled John was what
could have possibly made Sam start searching on the southern side of the Alps?
Surely, he knew as well as anyone else, that an airship could never have
cleared such high mountains.

Whatever
their purpose, he was certain that they were on the wrong track. But even so,
what could he do about it?

The
solution presented itself to him.

But,
was he over playing his new friendship?

John
decided that the risk was worth it, and made the phone call.

“What
do you have for us?” It was the same cold voice of the woman who had spoken to
him previously.

“I
know exactly where they will be by tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Good.”
The woman’s voice maintained its air of superiority and hostility.

“But
you will need to hurry to get a team in place,” he continued.

Serendipity,
so it would seem, had provided him with the perfect trap.

Of
course he’d checked out Lake Solitude years ago. It was one of perhaps a dozen
early choices years ago, back when he’d first started looking for the Magdalena
in earnest.

That
was where he’d discovered the downed B26 Bomber.

And,
at that depth, Sam Reilly would be an easy target.

*

At
first, Sam thought he was simply seeing the remains of the pilot.

Then,
he saw the light turn on behind the remains…

Followed
by a number of others.

“Where
the hell did they come from?” He wondered, aloud. Something instinctively told
him to switch off his LED.

“Beats
the hell out of me,” Tom said, following suit.

One
after the other, he saw the divers emerge from the crack in the bomber’s
fuselage, and swim towards them.

There
was nothing obviously menacing about them, but he knew for certain that
something wasn’t right.

“I
don’t think they’re recreational divers on a holiday,” Sam noted.

“Neither
do I – let’s get the hell out of here!”

The
dark figures started swimming rapidly towards them.

Sam
didn’t wait to count them, but at a glance, he could tell there were at least
eight of them. And there was something familiar about them, too.

Sam
couldn’t quite put his hand on it to begin with. But there was something about
the way they moved in such perfect unison.

Had
he seen their dry suits before?

Then
he realized that he had indeed.

They’re
Navy SEALs.

“They’re
Navy SEALs, Tom. We’re in worse trouble than I thought. These guys mean
business,” Sam said.

“I
think you’re right, Sam, and I’m not sure if these guys are still on our side.”

Sam
and Tom both started to kick their fins, and ascend.

Below
them, their assailants were gaining on them.

The
first one fired his harpoon – much larger and more deadly than a spear gun,
capable of traveling the thirty or more feet that separated them.

Sam
watched as it shot past him. The clear water making it difficult for the
shooter to accurately judge the distance, he missed by several feet.

Next
time, the man wouldn’t be quite so careless taking aim.

A
second SEAL then took aim, and his harpoon sliced rapidly through the clear
water. This time, it just barely clipped the neoprene of Sam’s dry suit near
his elbow.

Narrowly
missing the flesh of his arm.

The
freezing cold water poured into the small opening, and it stung him almost as
painfully as if he had been shot.

“Shit,”
Sam swore.

“You
okay, Sam?”

“Yeah,
it’s just a scratch, but we won’t be so lucky a third time. We’re going to have
to make a rapid no-decompression ascent. What do you think?”

“I
think at 150 feet, we’re very likely to get ourselves killed. But, if we stay
here, we’re going to end up dead anyway, so why not?”

“Good
luck, Tom,” Sam said as he pulled the emergency release on his weight belt.

Instantly,
they started to rise toward the surface.

Sam
just hoped that the minimal amount of time that they had spent making their
descent would allow them to resurface without too much of a nitrogen build-up
in their blood.

They
were about to lose 5 atmospheres worth of pressure in under a minute.

Sam
exhaled one gigantic breath during the entire ascent, as the air in his lungs
expanded as the atmospheric pressure lessened.

The
Navy Seals below were unable to follow, having been down much longer than Sam
and Tom. The nitrogen in their bloodstreams would have built up to a greater
degree, the longer they remained submerged. Consequently, they would be unable
to follow Sam and Tom to the surface, without almost certainly, dying.

Soon,
the SEALs were little more than dark shapes moving at the dark bottom of the
lake.

Sam
and Tom stopped their ascent at about six feet from the surface, just below
their Zodiac.

“How
you doing, Tom?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,
I think okay. How about you?”

“I’m
all right. I think we’ve escaped.”

“We’ve
certainly beaten those at the bottom, but an advanced mercenary team like them,
must surely have a surface team,” Sam said, and then went on to say, “That is,
assuming that we’re not dealing with one of our own teams.”

The
consequence of his last words echoed in his ears.

What
if they are one of ours?

That
thought and the possibility it might be the truth, scared the hell out of him.

“You’re
right, Sam. Maybe the surface team won’t yet know what’s happened below. Let’s
stay underwater until we reach the rock, and then let’s hope we can take off
before they know what’s happened.”

“Good
idea, Tom.”

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“What
did you mean by ‘one of our own Navy SEAL teams’?”  Tom asked.

“Well,
we already know that there was something more valuable than gold aboard the
Magdalena when she disappeared,” Sam said. “Whatever it was, it’s attracted a
large assembly of treasure hunters, and they’re willing to stop at nothing to
obtain their prize.”

“And
you think that assembly might include members of our own government?”

“Yep,
and I just wish I knew what that treasure actually is.”

*

Two
minutes later, Tom surfaced at the edge of the granite rock where his
helicopter was still resting. He turned slowly, his eyes scanning a full 360 degrees,
trying to get a complete view of their environment.

There
was nothing to alert him of their danger.

No
shouts or shots fired.

“We’re
good so far, Sam.”

“Okay
then, let’s go.”

They
both quickly scrambled up the edge of the rock and climbed into the helicopter.
Before Tom had even began to remove his dive equipment, he flicked the switches
to begin the slow process of warming up the engine.

On
the other side of the lake, something moved.

Before
Tom could see make out what it was
,
he had lifted the helicopter into
the air, and disappeared into the narrow Tyrol Valley below.

Disappointment
still shrouded Sam when he arrived back at the cabin.

Instead
of finding the Magdalena, and the answer to a mystery that had already remained
hidden for three quarters of a century, he had nearly lost his life, and found
a whole set of new, unanswered questions.

How
did they know he was still alive?

Who
were they exactly?

Why
would U.S. Navy SEALs be involved in this mess?

And,
finally and most significantly:
What is it about the Magdalena that I don’t
know that makes her so damn important?

Once
he entered the cabin, Sam checked his cell.

There
was a message from her. It was the only good news he’d heard today.

The
text message read,
I’m free tomorrow. Want to see the Alps from a different
perspective?

The
sudden increase in his heart rate told him that he did.

Sam
immediately hit the call-back number.

“Hi,
Aliana.”

“Sam,
is that you?” Aliana asked, in her distinctive voice.

“Yes.
So, you decided to stick around a little longer?”

“I
thought I might stay for the weekend.”

“I’m
glad,” Sam said, and he meant it too.

“Are
you going to be free?”

“Yeah,
my work here seems to have reached a dead end.”

“Then,
do you want to see the Alps my way?” Aliana repeated.

“Okay,
that could be just what I need. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll
tell you when you get here. Can you meet me at the hotel where I’ve been
staying? Say, at about eight o-clock tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,
what should I bring with me?” Sam asked.

“Just
wear some comfortable clothes. I’ve got everything else you’ll need.”

“Okay
then, I’ll see you at eight.” Sam said, and ended the call.

The
grin came over his face, like a child at Disneyland – relentless and uncontrollable.

He’d
had a number of women interested him over the years. He was young, healthy, and
had the physique of a man who spent his life outdoors – and, of course, he was
rich, although he took great pains to ensure that few people realized the
immensity of his fortune.

Tom
was probably the only person who knew him well enough to understand that he’d
only dated a few of those women and none of them had held his interest or lived
up to his expectations.

Aliana
was different.

She
was both stunningly beautiful, and in possession of a mind sharper than that of
any other woman he had known – and the people he often worked with were
genuinely very bright. They were specialists in their own fields, but she was
smarter than any one of them. She had a love of the outdoors which matched his
own, and the tenacity to see it all, in its glorious wonder.

Aliana
was a mischievous, playful, and captivating creature – and she had decided that
she wanted to spend the weekend with him.

As
far as Sam was concerned, the Magdalena could just as well stay lost forever.
He had discovered something far more exquisite than a seventy-five year old
mystery. He had found Aliana and she wanted to spend a few days with him.

His
heart kicked up. Did that mean night’s too?
It will if I have anything to
say about it.

Tom
looked over at him, and asked, with a note of sarcasm, “So, I take it I can go
to Paris for the weekend? And we’ll both return to the task at hand on Monday,
both feeling a little fresher?” Tom studied the besotted expression on Sam’s
face, and added, “Well, maybe not fresher, but at least your mind will have
been cleared from our current predicament.”

“That
sounds like a good idea to me,” Sam replied. “You sure you don’t mind that I
didn’t invite you along?”

“Not
at all. Besides, the last thing I want to do is stare at these damn mountains.
Anyway, I’m keen on going snowboarding with some friends.”

*

Sam
watched from the ground as Tom pulled the collective on his 44, and eased the
helicopter back into the sky above, after dropping him off. As Tom rotated the
helicopter so that he again faced Sam, he gave him one last smile, which said,
have
a great weekend
,
and then he flew off.

Sam
looked at his watch. 

It
was only 0740, but he still had a five minute walk down the rickety stone road
which led to the only accommodations at Tyrol. He walked into The Summit, the B&B
where Aliana was staying.

He
took a seat in the foyer, and casually picked up a magazine advertising an
article bearing the headline, “Europe’s Best Walks Above 4000 feet.” He started
to flick through its pages without paying much attention.

From
where he sat, Sam could see a large
,
thick
,
glass window that
allowed a stunning vista of the valley below, and the mountains towering high
above. It was difficult to discern the height of those mountains; their
distance was capable of tricking the mind into thinking they were higher than
they actually were. Over the past few weeks, he had flown over all of them. He
knew exactly just how high those mountains were.

A
blonde-haired gentleman behind the reservations desk approached Sam, and asked,
“Can I help you?”

The
man, like so many Europeans, spoke perfect English, but his German accent was
so thick that it was hard to distinguish whether or not what he was speaking
English or German. Sam recognized his voice and realized that this was the same
man he’d spoken to on the phone about his friend, Kevin Reed.

His
name tag simply read, ‘Carl.’ 

Sam
wondered if this man knew anything about the deaths of his friend and his wife.
More importantly, would he make the connection between him and his murdered
friends? He dismissed the idea as unlikely, given how many tourists from around
the world must visit here in a single year.

“Guten
morgen,” Sam said, using the only polite German phrase he knew. Then, in English,
he added, “I am meeting a friend here, a Miss...” he paused, realizing that he
still didn’t know her surname, and then said, “Aliana.”

“Ah,
very good,” Carl replied, now looking slightly uncomfortable, before quickly
hiding his discomfort, and asked, “May I get you a drink while you wait, sir?”

Sam
watched Carl’s response carefully.

Did
Carl’s eyes just show a glimpse of understanding when I said Aliana’s name?

It
was not a look of understanding that one man might give another when he noted
that you had an attractive girlfriend, or even a look of jealousy. No, instead,
it was more a look that indicated the realization that Carl had also been
waiting to meet this same person.

“Sure.
A soda. Any kind, please.”

Carl
nodded his head and left.

Aliana
then walked into the foyer, and Sam stood up to greet her.

Despite
the cold air, she was wearing a white climbing tank top, and purple
three-quarter length, Lycra climbing pants. European women, he’d discovered,
never seemed to feel the cold. Her blonde hair was neatly arranged in an
intricate braid, and she wore a mischievous smile that he would never tire of.

She
was just as lovely as he remembered.

“Good
morning, Sam. I see that you made it?”

She
kissed him on both cheeks, a very European custom.

Her
lips were full, soft and beautiful.

“Of
course, did you doubt that I would?” Sam asked.

“I
wasn’t sure what I thought you would do.”

“Do
you want to grab a drink while we’re still here?”

“No,
but I know this great coffee place, built into the side of a cliff, it’s down
the road.” Aliana said. “They have built a cantilever deck over the side of the
mountain, so you can see all the way down – I don’t know, perhaps 3000 feet.”

“Sounds
great,” Sam replied.

Carl
returned with Sam’s drink, a pink soda, and asked if the lady would also like a
drink. Sam paid him, and politely told him that they were a little pressed for
time, and so they were leaving.

Aliana
led the way outside.

The
paths were narrow. While they might be large enough for a motorbike, they were
not quite wide enough to accommodate a car. Sam was surprised to see a small
Fiat parked out in front of The Summit with several inches of snow over its
window. He would have liked to know how long it had been there, and how anyone
had managed to get it there.

They
walked down the winding path for about fifteen minutes, until they reached
something resembling a small road.

A
restored 1965 Cobra V12, American muscle car, was carelessly parked next to the
vertical cliff, and on the narrow road, which lazily followed the Tyrol River
along the valley floor.  Anyone trying to get around it would have had to take
the trouble of placing their side wheels on the uneven edge of the road and its
lethal drop. Although not very high, the short fall from the cliff to the river
below would leave the occupants submerged in its deep, fast-flowing, icy
waters.

Sam
hated alpine roads, and their European drivers.

“This
is my ride,” Aliana said.

“You
rented this?”

“No,
it’s one of my Dad’s.  I borrowed it for the weekend.”

Sam
looked at her, impressed.

Sam
had figured that her family wasn’t short of cash. After all, no one goes to
MIT, overseas student or not, unless they have a lot of money, or receive a
scholarship because they’re incredibly intelligent. In Aliana’s case, he
gathered that she was both.

How
ironic, he thought, as he looked at the beautifully restored antique car, that
he should find someone with a similarly endless bank account?

He
removed the small back-pack he was wearing, opened the car door and sat down on
the passenger’s side of the two seat sports convertible.

Aliana
inserted the key and turned on the ignition. It started immediately.

Sam
could feel the powerful 6.4L engine enticing the driver to let go of the reins.

Aliana
released the clutch, and started driving down the road. It hugged the winding
road beautifully, as she carelessly made their way south, towards Italy.

“So,
where are you taking me for the weekend?” he asked.

“It’s
a surprise.” Again, her mischievous smile owned him. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Okay,
do I at least get a hint?”

“No.”

“Okay
then, so tell me what brought you to Europe?” Sam asked. “I thought you were
heading back stateside to complete your PhD?”

“I
was.” She downshifted as they reached a sharp corner and approached the start
of a large hill. “But I was worried about my dad. He’s been under a lot of
pressure with work lately, and he sounded pretty stressed. Since my mother’s no
longer around, and I’m an only child, I kind of feel obligated to come and
check up on him.”

Once
they’d cleared the sharp turn, Sam felt himself pushed back into his seat as
she floored the accelerator on the straight, and the powerful 6.4 L engine
kicked into the life it was built for.

Sam
felt nervous at such speeds next to the cliffs, but Aliana appeared to be
adeptly controlling the powerful machine, apparently ignorant of any danger
that the narrow road and cliff sides presented.

“And,
was he okay?” Sam forced himself to return to the conversation.

“Yeah,
he’s struggling, though. I know he’s got problems, but he won’t speak to me
about them. I know that something is worrying him. He’s a strong man, but I
sometimes wish he wouldn’t keep all his problems to himself.”

Sam
noticed that for some reason, her facial expression did not match her words.

“I
know the type,” Sam commiserated, and he did, thinking of his own father.

“Although
my dad didn’t say it…” Aliana began and paused, “I think he was glad that I
made the effort to come here, even if only for a few days.”

He
nodded his head in agreement, certain that any father would be pleased to see
his daughter, especially if that daughter was Aliana.

They
came to the crest of a hill.

Sam
could see miles of curves winding down the mountain pass.

None
of them with guardrails. 

Aliana
sped up as though she could sense his fear, “This is the famous Timmelsjoch
Pass,” she laughed at his obvious discomfiture. “Do you know it has been the
background of a number of car ads over the years? We’re now entering Italy.”

He
ignored the road, trusting in fate, and wondered just how much Aliana was
enjoying scaring the daylights out of him, and wondering just how safe they
actually were. She’d obviously driven these roads many times before.