“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.
Chapter Two
Cyclone Petersham had reached its peak on the morning of August 25th, 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.”