John looked at the bag. His eyes bulging with recognition, at the sight.
“Very good. Secure the location and I’ll be down in a few minutes. I have to speak to the buyer before we kill them. No one goes any further without my orders.”
Brent acknowledged him, and then added several additional orders in typical military fashion to his men.
John felt his head spin.
It was the first time since the Magdalena had first reared her wicked head that he’d actually felt physically unwell. He had seen that climbing bag before, and so he should remember it, since it was the same bag he’d bought for Aliana all those years ago.
Why hadn’t she told me that she was climbing with him?
He had already considered the full extent of what might have happened. If Blake Simmonds knew that the tunnel reached the Magdalena, then perhaps they knew it too? If so, how would they try to escape with her?
Where would they come out? Then, as he looked out at the valley below, the answer finally became apparent to him…
Lake Solitude — of course!
John then considered how he could get there in time. If they had found the Magdalena, and then succeeded in finding a way out, it would mean that they already had more than a two-day head start on him.
It was time, John decided, to ensure that he had a second chance. He would never be able to flush them out from this end and secure Lake Solitude with his 5 men, even as efficient as they were. If he had more time, he could bring in additional help, but he hadn’t expected these complications at all. The only chance he’d have was to bring in the Navy SEALs, who were already based near the lake, awaiting any additional information he could offer them.
If he reached Sam Reilly before he left the Magdalena, he could kill him, retrieve the virus, and save Aliana. She’d be mad as hell, of course, but he could deal with that later. After all, there were much bigger things at stake here than the life of just one man. If they did manage to find a way out before John reached them, the SEAL team could capture them, and he and Aliana could receive amnesty from the U.S. government.
John placed the call.
“We were right about something,” he said, “Lake Solitude was indeed where the Magdalena disappeared. You’ll need to secure the site within the next twelve hours if you want to catch them.”
“We’ll do that, and John….” the directness of the woman’s voice sent a chill down his spine, “you’d better hope we get a return on our investment this time. We’ve already spent a lot of money toward this, and if we don’t have something to show for it, we’re taking you in.”
“Don’t worry. If I can’t produce the goods this time, I’m counting on you taking me in.”
Lugano was a little lake town in the north of Italy, shadowed by the dolomite mountains in the distance. Sam considered what he would need as Tom landed the helicopter in a small park at the town’s southern tip.
“There’s an adventure and climbing store here that meets the needs of tourists who are attracted to the lake and the Dolomite ranges. I’m not sure how much diving equipment they’re likely to have on hand,” Tom said.
“That’s okay. For what I’m after, we won’t need much dive gear.”
After the short flight, during which the heating manifold was set to full, Sam’s body temperature was beginning to return to normal, and with it, his usual level of confidence. The two men split up as Tom went to find out where he could get his hands on dynamite.
It was a clear sunny morning, but as cold as winter.
“Good morning,” Sam said to the man standing behind the counter, as he entered the adventure store.
“Good morning, can I help you?” It was the welcoming voice of a Canadian, drawn to the town for the beginning of its peak climbing season.
“Yes, I have a list of the equipment I need,” Sam said, as handed a slip of paper over the counter.
“An inflatable zodiac with a small two stroke engine, one large propane tank and burner, 200 feet of rope line, diving equipment for one person, a dry suit — 2 inch thick, and dual air tanks.” The sales assistant’s left eyebrow raised in a tiny gesture, as though he couldn’t imagine what Sam wanted with such a list of equipment, and then said, “Anything else?”
“Yeah, is there a marine mechanic here?” Sam asked.
“Just around the corner. Go out the door, and head up the street two blocks and you’ll find a guy who’s open.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back shortly to collect the gear, if you could please have it ready for me,” Sam said, handing over Tom’s Deep Sea Expeditions, company credit card.
“Not a problem.”
Sam moved quickly to locate the mechanic.
He walked into the shop, knowing exactly what was needed.
Walking through the store, Sam discussed with the salesperson exactly what he needed, and after a short while, the mechanic returned with them.
He then purchased 20 gallons of fuel — it wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Sam thanked the mechanic who’d helped him and walked out with a cart filled with parts, which he then added to the other pile of dive gear, and waited for Tom to arrive with the now-refueled chopper.
He watched as Tom landed the helicopter, and then, leaving the rotors spinning, Tom carefully stepped out of it, lowered his head, and carefully walked up to greet him.
“I’ve got some bad news,” Tom said.
“What now?”
“He called again.”
Sam knew instantly who Tom was referring to, and he took great pains not to show his concern, as he asked, “What did he say?”
“They’re not making an attempt at diving Lake Solitude as we expected they would.” Despite the good news, Tom’s face showed that his concern was justified. “Instead, they know about the ancient tunnel into which you and Aliana must have fallen, and they are tunneling down from above to reach it. Based on his predictions, they’ll breakthrough in another eight hours.”
“Okay, lets a get a move on, then.”
They both boarded the helicopter, and as Tom flew over the southern tip of the Dolomite ranges, Sam spotted something.
At first glance, he assumed that it was just a climbing team on the Via Farrata. A closer examination revealed that they were all armed with military assault rifles.
“Oh shit, look at that,” Sam said, pointing below.
“Who the hell are they?”
“There must be a hundred or more of them. Whoever it is they work for, they’re not taking any chances, are they, now?”
“Yeah, but who do you think they work for?” Tom asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we know that John Wolfgang and his team of mercenaries are trying to break into the tunnel you and Aliana fell through. So, if his team is in there, who the hell is responsible for these soldiers?”
“I have no idea, and I don’t intend on sticking around long enough to find out.”
“We just might be able to rescue Aliana, but we’ll never have time to get the Magdalena’s treasures out of there,” Tom said. “There are just too many of these guys on the mountain.”
“There still might just be a way.”
“How?”
“What if we fly the Magdalena out of there?”
“Are you kidding me?” Tom’s face displayed his incredulity. “You want to fly a 75 year-old dirigible, which crashed, mind you, when it was new, off the mountain?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And, they called me crazy.”
“So, are you going to help me?” Sam asked.
“Of course, I will. What are friends for?”
It was almost six o’clock in the evening. The last rays of the sun were edging their way to the side of the mountain behind Sam Reilly. As he quickly prepared his dive equipment, in the distance, he could hear the sound of Tom performing the tedious task drilling holes in which to place the sticks of dynamite.