They loaded their luggage into the back of the Robinson 44.
Tom started the onerous job of ticking off each item on the pre-flight checklist. It had been a while since he’d flown such a small helicopter. It felt strange to him in the same way that an airline pilot would feel at the unfamiliar controls of a Cessna 152.
He entered the GPS coordinates for the lodge in which they had made reservations, located at the northern end of Ötztal. It was a little over forty-five minutes by air, which they started immediately.
Sam noticed as they flew over them, that the Southern Limestone Alps lived up to their reputation for sheer beauty. The enormous, limestone mountains were made of the lighter and more porous rock. In addition to limestone, they contained dolomite, marl, sandstone and other minerals, rather than the dark granites of the more familiar Alps.
A number of alpine lakes could be seen from the air. Their distinct turquoise-aquamarine color showing the lime content in their makeup.
Tom pointed below and said, “Any one of those lakes could hide the Magdalena.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re crystal clear. If she were down there, someone would have seen her over the past seventy five years.”
They continued flying, the hum of the Robinson 44’s engine providing a constant background noise.
Flying over the highest peaks on their way to Ötztal, Tom looked at Sam and pointed at the altimeter.
Its reading was at 13,000 feet, and they were barely a thousand feet above the peak.
“I doubt that any airship could have made it past here.”
“Neither do I,” Sam agreed. “We’ll start by searching the area to the north of here. We know the Magdalena left Munich, and that the single gold bar was found at Innsbruck, approximately twenty miles to the north of here. It’s a big area, so she could be anywhere. I’m with you though, there’s no way that she could have cleared the high Ötztal Alps.”
Within a few minutes the alpine town of Ötztal could be seen ahead of them.
In its alpine valley, located in Tyrol, Austria, Sam could see the Ötztaler Ache River flowing in a northern direction. The Ötztal, separates the Stubai Alps in the east from the Ötztal Alps in the west. Looking at the map, Sam noted that the valley was 40 miles long, and surrounded by the confluence of the Ötztaler Ache and the Inn rivers in the east. The southern end of the valley, called the Gurglertal, terminated at the Italian border. The valley was formed by the main chain of the Alps, with many glaciers and high peaks, including the Weißkugel and the Similaun.
Sam drew a line connecting the three edges of the alpine ranges to form a small triangle, and placed an asterisk at the top to represent Munich, from where the Magdalena was known to have departed in 1939. At that time, coming in an easterly direction, was neutral Switzerland. Due south lay Fascist-ruled Italy, and to the east, German-ruled Austria.
He then looked at the area to the north of the Ötztal River, to a place called Bahnof, where his old friend had discovered the single gold bar, and Sam marked the spot with another X, as in “X marks the treasure.”
Tom started to make their descent and Sam put away the map.
He wondered if the pilot of an archaic airship, possessing negligible navigational abilities could have successfully flown through the narrow Ötztal valley, thus crossing the Southern Limestone Alps, without ever raising his aircraft more than a couple of thousand feet.
He shook his head, realizing that the thought was sheer foolishness.
Sam Reilly woke up early the next day.
The air was crisp, and although the sun had not yet pierced the peaks of the distant mountains, it wasn’t quite uncomfortably cold. When Sam looked at the mist ahead, he felt that it mirrored his sentiments on the vast endeavor of the search ahead of him. He watched as Tom finished making their coffee.
How could something a hundred and fifty feet long disappear for seventy five years?
He then considered the more important question, and how am I going to find it?
Despite the enormity of the challenge, Sam was happy to be in Europe again.
It had been years since he’d been to central Europe. He had once dived the canals of Venice, and had promised himself to do so again. So much history could be discovered there, but so far, he had found little reason to take Deep Sea Expeditions there.
It was summer, but not overly warm.
Europe never was, he decided. He’d rented a log cabin that rested at 3,500 feet. It was located in a pass that overlooked the Tyrol River.
He had chosen the place because, unlike the rest of the Tyrolean village, which rested on the valley floor, it was perched high up in the mountains, thus saving them hours of both climbing time and fuel during the many flights that they would take over the next few weeks.
He looked at the Robinson 44, which was perched precariously on a purpose-built helipad that rested on the edge of the mountain. Sam had half expected to discover that a strong wind had knocked it off its perch over night, but there it was, still as graceful as ever.
It was not a very large or powerful vehicle, but it would serve their purpose well.
He had considered hiring a Jet Ranger or a Skyhawk, but both were so rarely seen there that people were bound to comment. The Robinson 44’s were the helicopters of choice for sightseeing use by tourists. No one was going to take notice of yet another one above the Alps.
They’d landed yesterday afternoon, but had decided to take the time to relax and recover from their jet lag before starting in earnest.
Tom walked in just as the kettle on the stove began to boil.
“Morning, Sam.”
He noticed that Tom, unlike any other traveler he knew, had actually caught up on sleep during his long-haul flight, and today, was looking even more relaxed than he had seen him for quite some time — if that was even possible.
He would give anything to be able to sleep like that.
“Morning, Tom. You look well rested.”
“Thanks, I was up early.”
“Really?” Sam was surprised.
“So, I’ve looked into the Magdalena for you. She was supposed to be carrying the following well known families: the Goldschmidts, who were linked by marriage to the Oppenheimers. They were involved in gold bullion and diamonds; the Rosenbergs, as in the private banking Rosenbergs, who, rumor has it, funded a number of crime syndicates in the 1930s. This is what we know about them: the Goldschmidts would have been carrying large amounts of gold; the Rosenbergs may have been in possession of the Rosenberg Diamond, which was rumored to be in excess of 50 carats, cut in a perfect emerald cut. The last was a professor, about whom we know very little. What we do know is that he was a recluse, and an avid fascist, who had been working for the Nazi movement. How he came to be on the Magdalena’s manifest, no one has yet been able to figure out.”
“What were you doing on that flight Professor Ritztroben?” Sam asked, thinking out loud.
“It’s clear enough that the ship was carrying a fortune in gold and jewelry. Whoever is after it has already shown their willingness to do anything to prevent someone else from getting to it before they do.”
“Any more news about the Wolfgang Corporation?”
“Not yet. I’m still waiting for my Dad to get back to me with whatever information he’s been able to discover about our new friends.”
Tom sat down, and set the two cups of coffee on the table next to the topographical map, in front of him.
“What’s our plan?” Tom asked.