‘Well you are right, and wrong.’
‘NO CHANGE THERE THEN!’ booming French sarcasm echoing across the camp, Laurent was coming to investigate the gathering.
‘Hi Christophe, I was just checking something I found with Evelyn‘, Katherine’s tone was almost apologetic.
‘And what ‘ave you found my sweet?’
Evelyn paused for effect, ‘She has found this,’ standing back to reveal the display on screen.
Laurent was respectfully silent, Katherine was staring at Evelyn her sapphire blue eyes trying to ask her silently what she had really found. Evelyn then stated clearly for Laurent and Katherine’s benefit, ‘She has found a man-made structure, one mile in diameter, perfectly circular, with a magnetic field at the centre. The scans show the wall of the structure is over one hundred fifty feet high, and the centre of it is full of water.’
The whole camp exploded with congratulations and celebrations, Katherine was engulfed by the moment, forgetting about Laurent, who was still staring at the screen.
‘My sweet, you did well, we came looking for a ship, and you may have found a city, I am envious, most envious.’
He hugged her, pushed her auburn hair aside and placed his face by her neck. Unseen by Katherine, he glared at the perfect stone crater staring back from the jungle.
SEVEN
Jacob trusted Jean; he had flown with him in the Arctic while he was on board the Polar Queen research vessel. His skills as a pilot were the best in the world. Sitting in the back of the Sea King was Tom, the reliable ex-coastguard winch man.
The unearthly blue hue of the compacted ice against the darkness of the foreboding Atlantic was staggering. Jacob was reviewing the footage received from the Sea Eagle, and comparing it to the live feed from the camera on the helicopter to see if the iceberg had changed orientation.
‘Can you get us in closer Jean?’
‘Yes but not over it, the updrafts on the sides are quite strong.’
‘What about landing on it?’
‘That depends, you staying hooked up to the chopper?’
‘No too difficult to work, just act as if I’m ice climbing.’
‘Ice axe and pitons plus luck?’
‘Yep, just that.’
‘Jacob my friend, you are madder than me, strapping yourself to an iceberg, but if you are sure, let’s do it.’
Within five minutes Jacob was ready to go, a survival suit was impractical to climb in and his boots would not fit, he just could not fall in the water.
‘Nice boots Jacob’ Tom always liked shoes, caused the crew some jokes over the years.
‘They are Koflach boots, never let me down.’
‘Koflach where from?’
‘Austria made since 1898, so I guess they know boots.’
Jean butted into their conversation, ‘Don’t be long Jacob, winds changing; it will be dark in an hour.’
‘Yes Mum.’
This was a dangerous stunt; Jacob knew it, the North Atlantic, on an iceberg, an hour before dark. The prize was his motivation. This ship should not be here, he had never heard of an intact ship in ice, even steel hulled ships were crushed by the infinite power of moving ice. He doubted that the rest of the ship was as preserved as the exposed hull, it probably only survived as it was outside the ice, and the low sea temperature stopped it deteriorating.
Jean cautiously circled the berg getting a feel for the updrafts, the size of the ice creating its own miniature wind currents and these could push the aircraft into the ice walls. Jean agreed that the hull was at the top of the berg which gave them the best clearance, Jacob had seen a missing section, and decided that would be the best place for quick access to the interior. Jacob moved to the rear compartment, clipped his harness onto the winch, and opened the door, a rush of ice cold wind hit his face, reddened his cheeks immediately. He swung out, the cable taking his weight, dangling above the ice beast one hundred feet below. The sea was caressing the sides of the berg, and the spray was clearly visible, even from this altitude. He had turned on his communications gear, and a familiar young voice came through barely audible above the rotors only feet from Jacob’s head.
Jacob could not answer, as the downdraft would suppress anything he said to Eli on the headset.
He signalled to Tom to lower him, the cable playing out, bringing the ice behemoth closer. The hull of the ship was more damaged than he realised.
His feet hit the wood, a dull thud through his knees. He waved to Tom, detached the cable, the helicopter moved away from the berg and hovered at a safe distance, ready to retrieve Jacob.
The hull was devoid of barnacles, the ice probably scrapped them off some time ago. Jacob crouched, tried to counter the motion of the berg below him. The damaged section of hull was a few feet ahead. He tentatively grappled his way up and peered into the hole, the lights on his helmet illuminating a few feet. Eli came over the headset, ‘Pictures are coming through clear, but the wind is causing issues with the sound.’
‘Understood Eli, are you recording this?’
‘Yes sir.’
On the side of Jacob’s helmet a small but durable camera, encased in plastic, and linked to a power pack on his belt. It was transmitting back to Eli at the hangar in Canada. Jacob always liked to record everything; in case they missed something at the time.
Below him in the dark gutted belly of the ship was flotsam, debris, nothing clearly identifiable. He ventured inside, unsure of his footing, some water swilling around, about a foot deep. He picked up a piece of wood, and used it to probe the water, not wishing to discover a hidden hole which could lead right through to the heart of the berg. He cautiously edged towards a heavy set of double doors at what may have been the stern. The area he was in was about twenty feet across, nine feet high, spacious for a British or American vessel; they were notoriously confined below decks. Any identifying marks in this area were long since destroyed. The doors however had some kind of metal on them, heavily corroded. The door was shut tight and no manner of pulling or pushing could move them, he looked for any other entrance and found none.
‘Eli, I am going to do a panning shot of this area, and then I am going to have to cut through one of the walls, the doors are jammed.’
He turned his head, scanning with experienced eyes, looking for a weak spot on the walls, he saw a hatch of sorts on the right side, its hinges discoloured, they would not move, but the hatch would be easier to cut through than the walls, or the reinforced doors. He removed a small circular saw, and began to cut a neat square in the hatch, just inside the original border. Within minutes he had removed the timber, teak from the smell of it, and bagged it up as a sample for later. He left the duffle bag outside, squeezed through the opening the hatch was concealing. About two feet in was another hatch, but with a push from a strong shoulder, it gave, allowing him access to the room beyond.
The room was pitch dark, only the tubes of light emitted by his headlights highlighted what was directly in front of him. He decided to use night vision, and clipped the goggles onto his helmet, turning off the headlights. In the green hue he could see the cabin he had entered, an officer’s, possibly the Captain.
In the corner the remains of a person, tied to a chair, a sword still on his belt, but no waist to speak off. Jacob thought that nothing was of value here, and no clue as to the ships origin. Then he saw a symbol carved into the wall, he only recognised it, as it was his son’s name in Chinese, archer. He rubbed away and found an edge surrounding the symbol, sealed with wax, or was it sap?
The area was about three feet by two feet, and he radioed to Eli, ‘Can you see this? I presume something was sealed behind this, in a hurry.’