Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) (9 page)

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 to the driver’s windscreen
.

But the driver
continued.

High above them
in the church tower Sam recognized Vincent with a sniper riffle. 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 anther
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.”

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 the
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.”

“Very good, Mr.
Brandt. And where are you going to be?”

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

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 into
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.

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.”

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.