“Copy that,” Walker said, “there’s just one problem…”
“What’s that?”
“A second mercenary army is trying to secure Lake Solitude.”
“Christ! Your team must have the upper hand. I was advised that you’d secured it earlier today,” John told him.
“We did, and we will keep it secure, but we’re outnumbered here, and the unknown army appears to be pretty keen on reaching the tunnel opening.”
“I don’t care what you do, or how you do it, just make sure that no one leaves the Magdalena.”
“Copy that. No one’s getting off this lake.”
Blake Simmonds followed his team as they tried to gain further control of the region of the lake where the tunnel lay, toward the eastern end. He was long past the age in which he thought that he’d need to use his training as a military operative, but as it stood, what was at stake was far too valuable for him to entirely rely on someone else’s training and expertise.
He’d already accepted that John Wolfgang had switched sides, but with whom, he had no idea. Whoever they were, they had considerable firepower and a professional team who knew what they were doing.
Blake had watched as the two Blackhawk helicopters chased the Robinson 44, and he hoped that they had taken the ruse, and consequently given him much more space and time in which to capture the Magdalena’s most valuable treasure.
When his men approached the eastern side of the lake the incoming firepower increased dramatically.
Red tracer bullets now scoured the lake’s bank.
So, they obviously know that Sam Reilly is going to come out from inside that tunnel, too.
As far as he could tell, all of the firepower was originating from a higher vantage point on the northern side of the tunnel. They would be able to reach the tunnel if they kept going, but to capture Sam Reilly, his men would first need to take out the enemy on the other side of the tunnel.
He pushed his men hard and offered an additionalhalf-million dollars to each of them if they were successful.
It was enough of an incentive to drive his men to push themselves literally to their deaths.
A tracer bullet suddenly flew past his head, missing him by no more than a couple of inches.
Shit, that was close. But where did it come from?
It wasn’t from the north; instead it had been fired from the south.
Whoever the enemy team were, they had looped around the lake to approach him from behind. His men were now being outflanked by constant enemy fire from a stationary position in the north, as well as from a number of other attackers from the south, that were now moving in for the kill. To the west, Lake Solitude provided virtually no protection and to the east, the vertical limestone that formed the giant mountain range had them trapped.
It was a classic military strategy to outflank an enemy and thus divide their forces. Blake just hoped that he’d brought in enough men to overcome this maneuver.
Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, he was able to determine that his men outnumbered his enemies, but the enemy forces had superior firepower, and had bunkered-in earlier. He couldn’t be certain, but to the north, there appeared to be three shooters with large, mounted machine guns.
His 72-man team greatly outnumbered the enemy, who, as far as he could tell, had somewhere in the vicinity of 12 men, but that wouldn’t matter if he was unable to get control of those machine guns.
“Mr. Osborne, take your best men, and see if you can take out those gunners in the north,” Blake Simmonds ordered.
“Understood.”
He then watched as Osborne and 10 of his best soldiers climbed the debris field above the tunnel opening in an attempt to reach the machine gunners.
Below them, the fast-flowing, turbid water was surging through the tunnel opening and flowing into the lake. Its whitewater turbulence was tearing at the sides of the tunnel, and ripping out large chunks of limestone from its walls.
Any man who had the misfortune to fall into the raging maelstrom would be dead before he even knew what had happened.
Blake’s eyes kept track of them for a couple of minutes until they disappeared from sight.
The myriad of tracer bullets continued to shoot through the air. It was hard to tell whether his team was winning or losing, and he had no idea whether or not the men he’d sent to destroy the gunners were even still alive.
Then, he heard the grenades explode.
The explosions emanated from north of the tunnel, and the entire area was lit up as if it were broad daylight. The surrounding pine trees caught fire. He heard loud screams of pain, but from whom, he had no idea.
The machine guns went silent.
Had his men destroyed them?
They were now in control of the lake. They would now be able to easily maintain the upper hand.
The fast-flowing water from the tunnel had settled as the water level inside the tunnel and that of the lake, had finally reached equilibrium.
Then, from out of the enormous tunnel opening came the unmistakable sound of large propellers spinning.
Blake Simmonds watched in awe as he bore witness to the nightmare of his father’s past.
In front of him, in all its evil glory, he saw it — The Magdalena!
Her giant propellers spinning, they drove her inexorably toward
“Get ready men, don’t let her escape,” Blake warned.
More than thirty of his men took aim at the propellers, ready to stop its forward momentum.
They never had a chance to pull their triggers.
The ground shook violently as another set of explosions detonated below their feet.
Blake watched, as the entire southern side of the lake burst into flames, as though someone had poured aviation fuel on the lake surface and tossed in a lit match.
The blast of heat that followed was so intense that those who weren’t immediately incinerated dove deep into the lake trying to escape the conflagration.
Had the mystery military team set a trap for them?
Blake Simmonds couldn’t answer his own question as he waded into the icy waters of the lake. All he knew, as he watched his professional team run for their lives, was that in the same instant in which he thought he had finally achieved the lifetime goal he once promised his father that he would fulfill, he had lost it all.
Without any other possible alternative or solutions, once he reached the western edge of the lake, he simply walked away from the disaster, finally free from the corruption.
In the background, the Magdalena sailed quietly into the night’s water of Lake Solitude, unhindered.
Sam Reilly felt right at home as his hands ably steered the giant craft. It hadn’t taken him very long to get used to its controls. It slipped out of the tunnel opening and sailed quietly into the lake.
Next to him, Aliana had the burner on full, expelling enormous volumes of heated air into the canopy of the Magdalena.
Sam could feel the pitch of the nose rising further and further out of the lake as the Magdalena slowly motored towards the lake’s center. He wasn’t completely certain that they’d made the correct calculations for the amount of heated air that was necessary inside the canopy, and he wondered, if it was even possible to now get the Magdalena airborne.
Then, like Peter Pan, the Magdalena started to lift out of the water and gently float upwards into the sky.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The Magdalena flew through the night.
Sam Reilly was almost convinced that they had achieved the impossible. The enormous canopy slowly floated through the night sky like a dark rain cloud. He had flown many different aircraft in his life, but the Magdalena was one of the most magical. Like the child who dreamt of one day flying, the Magdalena seemed to belong in the sky. A part of him wished that he could have been around when airship flight was far more commonplace.