“Oh, shit. You’re serious! You are a Rhodes Scholar! You must be really bright.” Good looking and bright. Maybe I should just ask her to marry me now.
She laughed, but behind it, he could see that she was mildly embarrassed, as though she was used to being treated differently by boys.
“My dad’s the bright one, she added. He’s a microbiologist as well, and after my mum left him, I suppose the only thing he could do right was to teach me about science. I don’t think I’m necessarily any better or brighter than anyone else. You see, it was just what we sort of did as a family.”
“You don’t get on with your dad?” Sam asked.
“No, of course I do. I mean, he still treats me like I’m sixteen and his little girl, but I know he loves me. What makes you say that?”
“You’ve made a few comments about him stifling you. Don’t look upset. I have the same problem with my dad. We love each other, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere near him, or see him too often.”
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true of my dad, too,” she admitted.
“And your mum?”
“No idea. She left my dad years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. It happens.”
They continued talking for about half an hour, and the time went by too quickly. Then, he saw a large, unfamiliar Jet Ranger hover overhead, circle and then land in the parking lot at the end of the street.
“I guess that’s your ride,” she said.
“Guess so, but it isn’t one of ours.”
“It’s been nice talking to you, Sam.”
“Thank you. It’s been a pleasure talking to you too, Aliana.” He then wrote down his phone number. “I have some work to do in Europe, but I travel a fair amount. If you would ever like to have lunch with me, I’d love to see you again — anywhere, anytime.”
Sam meant it too. He would happily make an excuse to visit any part of the world just to spend a short amount of time in her company.
She took it, kissed him on the cheek, and then said with a grin, “Maybe I will.”
“Boy, am I sure glad to see you, Tom,” Sam said.
“You look like crap. So, what have you done this time?” There was laughter in Tom’s voice, but he spoke with genuine concern too, combined with a touch of reproof.
“It’s a long story,” Sam said, as he looked up at his friend. “You look like you’ve had a rough week at work. Where’s my Sea King, anyway?”
“About that…” Tom stopped short.
“I get it. It’s going to be a long story.”
“You go first.”
It took the entire flight back to Sydney harbor, where the Maria Helena was at its temporary mooring making repairs, for Sam to tell his story, filling in all the parts about the gold, the brutal attack, and at last, about the girl that he’d met.
After they landed on the back deck of the Maria Helena, Sam looked across at his friend, and said, “So Tom, what did you do while I was away?”
“Well Sam…” Tom wore his usual grin as he pressed the collective all the way down, letting the rotary blades wind down, through their natural whine, and then patted Sam on his shoulder and said, “While you’ve been out playing, I’ve been busy working. I flew the Sea King through the eye of a cyclone in order to save one of your dad’s super bulkers in an attempt to also save the lives of all the sea, as well as the lives of millions of Queenslanders, in the process.”
“No shit?” Sam’s eyes showed that he was impressed, and that he believed what Tom had just told him. Had it come from anyone other than Tom, he would have called them a liar.
“Yep.”
“Did you save her?”
“Nope, she sank just before reaching the Great Barrier Reef,” Tom admitted.
“Wow, I guess my dad was pissed about that.”
“Sure was,” Tom replied, “but not so much about losing his ship.”
“What then?”
“He was more upset about the loss of the contents of his private vault.”
“Bet he asked you dive for them during the cyclone, didn’t he?” Sam asked. He knew all about his father’s private vault, and he had a good idea of just what he was transporting inside.
“Right again.”
“And, I’ll also bet that you told him where to go.”
“No. When he told me what was at stake, I had to do what he wanted.”
“What was inside it when you opened the vault?” Sam asked, only mildly curious. He and his father generally kept out of each other’s secret lives.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean? Had it been destroyed?”
“No, just stolen.”
“Really?” Sam said, his eyes brightening as though the news had made his day. “Someone stole something from my father while his ship was stranded in a cyclone? That would definitely have pissed him off. So, what’s his next move?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of the person who stole whatever it was. My dad can be quite persistent when he’s out for revenge.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Tom said. “Now, what are we going to do about your problem?”
“I’m going to take a shower, put on some dry clothes, and then we’ll work out what we’re going to do about the Wolfgang Corporation.”
Twenty minutes later, Sam sat at the end of the operations room, with his laptop computer open. There was a fatigue that went with surviving the past few days of his life, but the shower had made him feel human again.
He looked at the laptop screen before him and typed the words, “Wolfgang Corporation” into google.
A long list of pages relating to the infamous Wolfgang Corporation came up instantly. Its president was a Mr. John Wolfgang, a microbiologist with a number of accolades to his name, including a Nobel Prize for Medicine in 2012.
Sam scrolled down, and discovered that John Wolfgang appeared to be a well-respected microbiologist, as well as a wealthy businessman. His father, Walter Wolfgang had also been a brilliant microbiologist, who had founded the company in 1935, while working on his PhD, but had struggled to succeed in it after Germany lost the war. He ended up living in East Germany, which entirely strangled his operations. After the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, John rekindled the family business by finding financial backing from an unlisted source. Since then, the company had moved to the U.S., where it now thrived, and became one of the leading pharmaceutical companies involved in stem cell research.
Sam made a mental note of the company owner’s name, and decided that he would have to give the company’s past history a closer inspection at a later time.
Next, Sam opened up his last email from Kevin Reed. At the end of it, there was a note with the name “The Summit,” a bed and breakfast, located in the Alps, where Kevin was staying. Below that, was a note with his contact phone number in case he discovered anything interesting about the gold bar.
I don’t have anything to tell you about the gold, but I sure hope you can answer some of my questions — Kevin.
With that in mind, Sam dialed the number.
“Hello. Summit.”
“Hello. I was given this number and told that I might pass along a message to a friend of mine who has been staying with you over the summer.”
“Yes, certainly. What is your friend’s name?” The tone was not unfriendly, but the man’s thick German accent made it difficult for the man to hide his formality.
“A Mr. Kevin Reed.” Sam said, and then added, as if to clarify: “He and his wife have been climbing in your region for a number of months now.”
The line went silent. Sam wondered if he had been cut off.