Sam looked down the hole. It went straight down. A strong draft flowed from below when he opened it, suggesting that it opened to the outside world, somewhere.
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s just as likely to drop us off the cliff somewhere. Maybe an ancient privy?”
The distinct sound of several grenades being thrown into the cavern stopped their conversation.
“I’d say it’s our best chance,” Sam said.
And then dropped — into the darkness below.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Andre Sephora was a 120-foot custom built Millennium Superyacht. Powered by three Vericor TF50 gas turbines, its triple Rolls-Royce Kamewa water jets allowed the luxurious vessel to cruise at sustained speeds of up to 60 knots along the Congo River. It wasn’t the fastest superyacht in existence, but it was by far the quickest equipped with military grade armor plating and an automated defense system, operating four separate Gatling guns and one antiaircraft rocket launcher.
The Congo River is the second largest river in the world after the Amazon. Inhabited by humans for more than fifty thousand years, the Congo Basin spans across six countries — Cameroon, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Republic of the Congo, Equatorial Guinea and Gabon. The Congo, a place of brutality and violence for its past — the days of the Arab slave and ivory trade, its long history of tribal warfare, and its present — the ethnic violence and massacres of today. The Congo has suffered horribly throughout its history, and due to generations of foreign exploitation, political instability, corruption and civil war, not to mention a prevalence of crocodiles, hippos, waterfalls and huge rapids, the river seems to have been given a wide berth by Westerners. Subsequently, few archeological expeditions have ever ventured deep into its rainforest.
The entire Congo basin is populated by Bantu peoples, divided into several hundred ethnic or tribal groups. Bantu expansion is estimated to have reached the Middle Congo by about 500 BC, and the Upper Congo by the beginning of the Common Era. Remnants of the aboriginal population displaced by the Bantu migration remain in the remote forest areas of the Congo basin. The oldest of all of these are the pygmies, the most ancient hunter gatherers of the Congo rainforest. No one knows for certain how many remain, as their ancient way of life allows them to survive in otherwise inaccessible areas of the remote jungle. This has permitted many of their tribes to live in secret, away from westernized ideologies.
It was the pygmies, the most ancient of these hunter gathers, who most interested Dr. Billie Swan. Based on the markings on the roof of the Tibetan Atlantean temple, one such group of pygmies held the key to the remaining half of the code to Atlantis.
The Mankan pygmies were said to be the most ancient, ruthless, and powerful in all of Africa, having inhabited the region for more than fifty thousand years. If anyone witnessed the coming of the people of Atlantis eleven thousand years ago, it would have been them.
Made inaccessible by thick rainforest and deep swamps, vast areas of the Congo remain unexplored, with some areas so remote that no maps exist. As a result, the area has been a breeding ground for myth and superstition, with local pygmy tribes telling of a mysterious tribe called the Mankan. Isolation from the outside world was so important to the Mankan people, that legend had it if anyone was caught finding them, they would be killed so as not to reveal their home.
The only problem being, with the exception of the notes within the Atlantean temple, there were no record of the tribe ever existing. Which meant, either they no longer survived, or lived in an area of the Congo Rainforest so remote and in such small numbers, that no Westerner had ever laid eyes on them.
Finding them was a long shot, but it was the only one that remained for Billie.
As the Andre Sephora passed through the mosaic of rivers, forests, savannas, swamps and flooded forests, Dr. Swan was amazed to discover just how vast the Congo Basin was. She’d read it described as the equivalent of navigating the Sahara Desert prior to GPS. As she passed the hundreds of islands, tributaries, and water based villages, she imagined it was easy to become disoriented and lost forever inside its labyrinth.
The river, along with the deep, thick vegetation of the jungle that lined the bank of the river, was teeming with life. The heavyset and somber eyes of gorillas often stared back at her when she stared at the jungle. Buffalo ran wild, and elephants carefully nestled on the banks of the river.
They were approaching the most remote section of the Congo Basin — the entrance to the Luvua River, and outlet of Lake Mweru. As they came around the latest bend in the river, Billie almost gasped when she saw the evidence of the river’s greatest predator — man.
Peppered with waterfalls and rapids, the entrance to the upper river was guarded by abandoned T-62 tanks, littering the hillside by Pweto.
The Andre Sephora slowed to a near stop.
The Luvua landscape was unique. Golden colored grass covered the surrounding hills, dotted with occasional abandoned huts built from volcanic-like rock. Large trees seemed to be covered by giant sheets of white silk blowing in the wind — in fact they were gargantuan house-sized spider webs.
Dr. Swan noticed the three dismembered heads on spikes that littered the bank of the river. They were approaching the most remote traversable section of the river and would soon have to leave the safety of the river and go on foot.
The skipper of the Andre Sephora, Jason Faulkner — a South African who’d made his fortune guiding the ultra-rich through unique African jungle hunting experiences — cautiously slowed the vessel, and moved it toward the southern river bank. There, he examined his most recent map. It was an aerial photograph taken that morning, depicting a section of the river where a route further upriver might just be possible. The river, he knew, was alive, and as such was constantly changing its shape. What was navigable today might not be tomorrow and vice versa.
Dr. Swan watched as the skipper approached a set of rapids. The difference in height of the river was no more than five feet, but it was enough to make it appear impassable to a vessel their size. With the bow of the Andre Sephora pointing directly upriver, she could see two sets of rapids. White and angry water flowed to the left and to the right. At the center, between the two, appeared one constant large rapid. The water was relatively clear, and she could see the bottom was no more than a few feet deep. Much less than the seven-foot draft of the Andre Sephora.
“Is this as far as we can go, Mr. Faulkner?” Edward asked.
Jason picked up the vessel’s radio and spoke quickly in Swahili, the fast monotone language of the Bantu people, and then looked toward Edward. “I wouldn’t worry sir. I have taken care of it.”
Edward stared at the violent opening in the river’s entrance. Wedged between two islands, the water appeared angry as it competed to squeeze through the narrow entrance. “Really! You’re planning on lightening the load, and reducing our draft?”
“No. I’m certain your entire inventory of cargo is important to you. I wouldn’t dare consider forcing you, as a paying customer, to offload anything.”
“How the hell do you expect to pass that then?” Edward asked.
Jason grinned — a smile that reeked of a lifetime of corruption. “I’m planning on raising the height of the river by another ten feet.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam Reilly tried to lie back as best he could with his head just off the rock slide as he would if he were on a giant waterslide. At any moment he expected to collide with some type of obstruction in the tunnel. At the speeds he was traveling, it would be a fast death. He lost count of the number of turns the tunnel had sent him on, and then up ahead he saw the faintest glint of light. He slid around the next corner and at the end of it he saw the reflection of filtered light glistening through water.