The Last Airship (6 page)

“It’s
what I heard.” Blake said.

“That
figures.” Sam had seen firsthand what was offered to the rich. “What happened
to him and the rest of the people on the Magdalena?”

“Well,
that’s just it. They were never seen or heard from again after the night that
the Oppenheimer and Goldschmidt family disappeared.”

Now,
the story behind the treasure hunt began to pique his interest.

“Thanks
for that.”

“Not
a problem. You haven’t found the gold, have you?”

“No,
just doing some research for a friend. Say, how did you get this number?”

“My
father told me the story about the lost Magdalena when I was a boy, so when I
saw the image, I just had to know the answer. I rang your father and told him
that it was urgent that I speak with you. He gave me this number. Said you
wouldn’t mind. By the way, he told me to give you his regards and that he hopes
your new job is working out for you.”

It
had been a year since he’d reluctantly taken the job, but he and his dad didn’t
talk too often.

“Not
a problem. Thanks for that.”

“Hey,
if you find anything more on the final resting place of the Magdalena, I’d love
to know about it. Can you keep me in the loop?”

“Sure.”

He
hit the end button on his sat phone and then scrolled down through his address
book until he reached Tom Bower’s number.

He
hit the call button.

Sam
heard the first and the second ring. He never heard the third one. Instead,
there was a loud bang as an unusually large wave hit
Second Chance’s
portside, very nearly causing her to broach and flooding her. Dropping the sat
phone, he heard the sudden rush of water engulfing the center cockpit.

He
looked at hatchway high above him, and saw a wave of sea water breaking
overhead.

It
was too late.

His
hands instinctively gripped two of the many cabin holds, before the torrent of
water swept through the open hatchway and all light disappeared from his world.

Cyclone
Petersham had reached its peak on the morning of August 25
^th
, just
as the Maria Helena reached the failing ship.

Tom,
along with the ship’s skipper and a number of the other scientists aboard, were
in the operations room, sitting at its large rectangular table. At the head of
the table sat the Maria Helena’s skipper, along one side of the table sat Tom
and several of the scientists, who currently lived on the ship, and along the
other side sat four engineers, whom Tom had flown in from Cairns earlier that
morning. At the foot of the table, stood an empty chair, in which Sam Reilly
would ordinarily be seated as Special Operations Director of Deep Sea Salvages.

Unlike
the knights of the round table, the Maria Helena, although civilian, still
maintained a clear chain of command. The skipper held the ultimate
responsibility for the safety of the ship and everyone on board, and
ordinarily, were Sam on board, he would be charged with the primary
responsibility for their mission.

“As
you’re all aware, the Hayward Bulk has now been without its propulsion system
for almost forty eight hours,” Matthew, the skipper, stated with calm, clear,
efficiency. “And, given her location during this upcoming cyclone, and both the
immediate and long term risk to life and the environment if she is reefed, we
have offered our services to get these engineers and equipment on board the
stricken vessel.”

No
one spoke.

Everyone
in the room knew that the fact that Global Shipping, their subsidiary's owner,
was responsible for the potential disaster, was why they had been diverted to
this mission.

Matthew
spoke again. “We have received reports that the Hayward Bulk has dragged both
her anchors and is headed for the coast of Cairns. The greatest problem
however, is that she will never make land since the Great Barrier Reef lies
between the two.”

They
were too late.

“What’s
she carrying?” It was the first time Tom had spoken since the start of the
meeting.

“It’s
classified.”

“Bullshit!
Global Shipping is a civilian cargo fleet. All ship contents must be logged in
and identified.”

“Look,
let’s just say that the cargo the Hayward Bulk is carrying would be lethal to
every bit of sea life, and human life, for that matter, for hundreds of miles.”
This time, the speaker was one of the engineers who had recently boarded the
Maria Helena.

“I
can’t believe they’ve done this! What the hell are they carrying?” Tom didn’t
bother to hide his complaint.

“Tom,
that doesn’t matter right now. Can you land on the Hayward Bulk in this weather?”
Matthew, the skipper of the Maria Helena, brought him back to the problem at
hand.

“I
can’t even take off in this weather, let alone land in it.” Tom was incredulous
that he was even being asked such a ridiculous question.

“There
are twenty three of our guys working on board her right now. If we can’t get
this new impeller to them, their deaths will be nothing when compared to the
three hundred thousand deaths that will occur when they collide with the reef.”

“What
is she carrying?” Tom persisted.

“I
told you, I can’t tell you that.”

“Piss
off!  You expect me to risk my life for my duty, but you won’t tell me what it
is I’m trying to save. No way!”

“Okay,
can we speak about this privately?” Matthew implored.

“No,
we’re a team here. By the sound of things, old man Reilly’s already put all of
our lives at significant risk. I think we all deserve to know why.” Tom raised
his voice only slightly, but to everyone in the room who knew him well, it was
akin to a declaration of war, coming from an otherwise entirely placid man.

“It’s
carrying uranium. It’s not supposed to be anywhere near the reef, but it is.”
The speaker’s badge identified him as Malcolm Ford. He wore a black Armani suit,
which made him look like a businessman rather than an engineer. He was most likely
a company representative – there to make sure that Global Shipping didn’t bear
the blame for this venture.

He’d
been sitting quietly amidst the other engineers. Behind his fine glasses was
the face of a man who confidently held complete authority over the situation.
The man had taken his place among the other engineers who had also remained
silent until that point, but this man seemed different. He was not simply an
intelligent engineer. He was there for another purpose, although what that
purpose might be, Tom couldn’t imagine. The man hadn’t apologized at all, but
simply confirmed what Tom had suspected.

Who
is this guy?

“But
there’s no way she could do that without special approval! The ship would need
to be specifically certified for it. There’s only one way that it could get
that kind of approval…” 

Tom
stopped short, remembering the close relationship James Reilly had with the
Obama administration.

What
has that self-absorbed prick got us into this time?
Sam was really going to be pissed off at his old man
when he found out what had happened. Not that Sam had seen eye to eye with the
old man since his mother split with him in the aftermath of Danny’s accident.

“We
don’t have time for bickering.” Matthew’s voice was stern, but not
antagonistic. “Can you fly or not?”

“If
you can ride out the worst of this cyclone until she meets the eye of the
storm, I might be able to take off and make the transfer.”

“Okay,
it’s not an ideal solution, but at least it’s a chance. How much of a window do
we have?”

“If
I time the takeoff perfectly, it will only be a matter of minutes between takeoff
and landing on the stricken ship. We’re not likely to get another chance to try
to take off again if this plan doesn’t succeed. So, what are the chances this
will work?”

“I
know the chances are slim, but they’re absolutely zero if you don’t get that
part to the crew of the floundering Hayward Bulk.”

“I
get it…” Tom said, acknowledging that he would do it. It was never a question
of whether or not he would risk his life to serve the greater good, but a
matter of knowing why he was risking his life at all. “I’ll go warm up the
chopper.”

*

Tom
looked out the rear hatchway of the Maria Helena’s doghouse.

The
enormous Westland WS-61 Sea King helicopter could only just be seen through the
spume of violent windswept water, resting precariously atop the small helipad
located on the aft deck of the sky blue Maria Helena. Its skids had been
secured to the deck as a normal precaution to prevent it from shifting as the
ship naturally rocked on the swells of the open ocean. Today, their strain
could be clearly seen, as the ship dramatically lurched in the violent swells.
In this weather, Tom imagined that any sudden release from its restraints would
result in it being flung off into the sea, just like a bull rider in a rodeo.

The
storm was raging at its worst as they neared the eye of the cyclone. It was a
scientific fact that the narrower the base of a cyclone was, the faster were
the wind speeds it generated.

The
restraints used to secure the helicopter were rated to hold more than forty
tons, considerably more than the helicopter’s fifteen ton weight. Even so, Tom
would have much preferred to wait until the weather eased before preparing it
for take-off. The problem was that they would have such a small window of
opportunity to successfully make the transfer to the Hayward Bulk that the
helicopter would need to be completely ready to take off the second they
entered the eye of the cyclone.

Tom
watched as the deck rose and fell several times before he mentally pictured a
pause long enough to race from the Maria Helena’s protected doghouse to the
helicopter’s cockpit door.

Seeing
his best chance, he sprang into motion.

Reaching
the Sea King just as the entire rear deck of the Maria Helena dropped thirty
feet down a trough, his hand gripped the winch man’s bar on the right hand
side, as his legs fell out from under him.

Tom
didn’t wait for the ship to fully right itself before opening the cockpit door.

Stepping
up into the large cockpit, he started his meticulous checklist, preparing for
take-off.

With
his left hand, he switched the Master Battery/Electrical Switch to the ON
position. Instantly, the lights behind the cockpit instruments glowed a soft
red. Next to it, his hand flicked the Master Avionics Switch to ON. The
backlight of the avionics turned a reassuring soft red.

Looking
to the right side of his control panel, he confirmed that the fuel level was
reading FULL, as he always maintained it after any mission. The Fuel Valve
Master was then switched to ON; the Nav Lights were switched ON,
not that
anyone else in their right mind would be in the air right now.

He
gave the ‘all okay’ signal with his thumb and fore finger, signaling the
engineers to join him. The spare impeller they were to deliver had already been
brought on board.

Tom
turned his head to face the back of the Sea King and watched as the four men
climbed inside. Each man was sweating and unwilling to meet his eyes. Unlike
the Navy SEALs he’d met in his former life with the U.S. Marines, these men
were private engineers and unaccustomed to this level of risk.

Then,
the fifth man opened the front passenger door.

“How
soon before we can go?” It was the business man from the earlier meeting.
Unlike the other engineers in the helicopter, this man exhibited none of the
telltale signs of a person in distress. He might just as easily been jumping
into a taxicab on the way to an important meeting.

“Soon,”
Tom said. He then looked around at the scared faces of his passengers, and said,
“Are you gentlemen feeling lucky?”

“They
tell me that you’re the best helicopter pilot in either hemisphere,” the man
seated next to him said. The grey hair at his temples indicated his age, and he
carried his strong, athletic build, one befitting a much younger man, with an
air of confidence. “So, do we need luck here?”

“We’re
about to fly inside the eye of a cyclone,” Tom said, as he tried to fake an
untroubled smile. “I’d say we could use a little bit of luck. I’ll make you a
deal. I’ll get you on the Hayward Bulk and you just make sure that you get her
to operate under her own power in time to save all our lives.”

“It’s
a deal.”

Tom
turned his head to the window, watching as the storm raged in front of him. The
high winds were literally lifting the water out of the ocean.

How
much worse could it get?

Tom
then watched as the radar system produced a clear image of the opening ahead.
The Maria Helena was about to enter the eye of the cyclone.

Tom’s
left hand adjusted the throttle until the main rotary blade RPMs reached 100%.

His
right hand tapped the reset button, zeroing altimeter. 

“Maria
Helena this is Sea King, Yankee Victor Charlee Zero Niner.”

“Go
ahead Sea King.”

“We’re
ready to jump ship the second we’re through the razor’s edge.”

“Copy
that, and good luck.”

The
Maria Helena’s bow rode the enormous wave.

Once
entering the eye, the storm was gone.

As
though God had turned off a washing machine. In place of the turbulent sea,
there was a placid lake. On board the ship, the pitch of the powerful diesel
dropped, as its twin propellers ceased the hard work of trying to maintain
forward momentum in the swell. There was an eerie absence of wind, and a seaman
could easily be forgiven for thinking the storm was over and that he’d been
lucky to have survived it.

Tom’s
mind returned to the present, as he saw the stricken Hayward Bulk in the
distance.

“Here
we go, gentlemen.”

The
ground crew then manually disconnected the tethers.

His
left hand pulled on the collective.

Instantly,
the collective pitch of the rotor blades increased, creating lift. The sound of
the Sea King’s powerful Rolls Royce engine could be heard, as Tom increased the
throttle to maintain RPMs, and then they were airborne.

At eighty
feet, Tom could see just how small the eye of the cyclone really was. He wished
the Maria Helena could have closed the gap between the two ships.

Approximately
one nautical mile ahead of him was the damaged super tanker, bobbing around in
the relatively calm water, with no more control over its destiny than a
floating plastic bottle.

Tom
immediately adjusted the pitch for fastest straight and level flying.

Behind
the damaged vessel, Tom could see a vast crest, a barrage of water. It was at
the far end of the eye of the cyclone, quickly approaching. He realized that it
was highly unlikely that they would make it in time.

No
one aboard the helicopter spoke, yet everyone had the same thought – they were
all going to die.