The Mahogany Ship (Sam Reilly Book 2) Read online

  “How’s your Hydrox, Sam?”

  “I’m good for at least an hour. Let’s open the hatch and get back to the diving bell. See what our next move is.”

  “Agreed.”

  Tom spun the internal locking wheel of the outer hatch. The green light turned red, indicating that it was no longer water tight.

  He then pushed the door outwards.

  Nothing happened.

  He pushed at it again, without any success. Tom swallowed and his heart rate rocketed. “Sam, we have a big problem…”

  *

  In the mission room of the Maria Helena, the silent uneasiness was almost tangible. Sam’s last message from the Sea Witch was that they had flooded the cockpit and were now drifting inside the mouth of the pyramid. The last five minutes had passed unbearably slowly, and they had received no messages from below.

  The sound of Michael’s cell ringing, broke the silence.

  “The water’s still flowing, and it’s passed the safety blocks at mineshaft three!” It was his underground manager.

  “Understood. Tell the men that we’re doing our best for them.”

  Michael looked at Matthew. “It didn’t work. The water’s still flowing strong.”

  Matthew nodded in understanding and then looked at Veyron, “Any ideas?”

  “None that can be done in the timeframe, I’m afraid.”

  “Veyron,” Michael said. “I noticed you have a second submarine down below. Can you send that to try again?”

  “Sure, I can control its mechanical arms and probably reposition the Sea Witch, but we don’t have anyone to pilot her.”

  “I think I’ve got a solution for that.”

  Chapter Five

  Sam turned around so that he could push the hatch with his legs, in conjunction with Tom. Despite the pain in his strong thigh muscles, there was no movement.

  “Well… that’s going to make our day considerably worse,” Sam said.

  Tom moved around the sub, looking out the other portholes, trying to get a better idea of how the Sea Witch was resting. “The hatch must be wedged up against the wall?”

  “I suppose so. The question is how are we going to free it?”

  “I’ll inform the Maria Helena that we failed, and see what solutions Veyron can come up with. I knew we should have taken that French son of a bitch with us.”

  Sam nodded his head and then continued his reconnaissance of the Sea Witch. It appeared to be lying with a 70-degree list to its portside, meaning that the hatch – the only place of exit -- was wedged between the submarine and the granite walls of the pyramid’s tunnel. The seawater had completely shorted all electrical systems inside the sub.

  He looked at his dive computer.

  It showed 55 minutes of Hydrox remaining.

  They were now trapped inside the flooded safest deep sea submarine in existence, with less than an hour remaining of breathable gas, and no means of escape.

  “Our luck doesn’t seem to be getting much better,” Tom said.

  “Let me guess. We lost the radio transmitter from the top of the sub?”

  “Yep,” Tom confirmed. “It’s just that sort of day, isn’t it? So, now we’re trapped, and we have no means of communicating with the Maria Helena. Not that it matters much. They have no one to pilot Rescue One down here in the time we need.”

  Sam unlocked the storage locker on the side, which would ordinarily be at the bottom of the sub, pulling out a tool kit. “Okay, so we’re on our own.” His voice appeared content, as though he’d calmly accepted their predicament.

  “Seems like it.”

  Sam removed several items from the tool kit, discarding them on the floor with disinterest.

  “What are you after?” Tom asked.

  “A hyperbaric blowtorch.”

  “Are you kidding me, Sam? The steel in this sub is eight inches thick. You would most likely starve to death before you managed to burn a hole through it.”

  “You’re right,” Sam agreed, and then switched the blowtorch on and off again. “But I’ve no desire to burn my way out.”

  “What then?”

  “We’re jammed up against the hatch on one side, and the mechanical robot arms on the other side.” Sam looked at Tom, to make sure that he was following. “I’m going to cut the hydraulic lines to those arms.”

  “Detaching the wedge, and sending the Sea Witch spiraling down the tunnel again.”

  Sam removed the protective cover to the starboard side wall, where he could see the robotic arms were resting firmly on the granite walls of the pyramid’s tunnel. Three hydraulic lines ran along the barren submarine’s inner surface.

  “That’s the plan. The question is, where are we going to end up, this time?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Tom replied.

  Sam switched the hyperbaric blowtorch on. Its blue flame hissed out of the end of the nozzle. Cutting the tough hydraulic wires like butter, he started at the top.

  “One at a time, Sam. It will give us more of a chance to move just enough to escape.”

  “Good idea.”

  The first hydraulic strut did nothing.

  Out the porthole, Sam could see the limp arm of one of the robots that hadn’t been trapped on the side of the tunnel.

  The second one was connected to the largest of the five robotic arms, which appeared to be wedged and responsible for their problem.

  Sam cut it and watched a plume of black oil spurt out under pressure.

  He then looked out the porthole.

  The arm had not moved at all.

  Sam looked at his watch. He now had 25 minutes of Hydrox left to breathe. “Any idea why that didn’t take the pressure off that arm?”

  “No.”

  Sam proceeded to cut the fifth and final hydraulic strut. “Lucky last.”

  Nothing happened.

  Peering out the porthole, Sam noticed the robotic arm appeared as inflexible as ever.

  “Now we’re in trouble,” Tom said.

  “I don’t know what’s keeping it rigid. I’ve cut the strut. Look at it, it’s still pissing out oil.”

  “Of course!” Tom braced himself against the submarine wall. “The pressure hasn’t fully left the strut–”

  The robotic arm retracted with a violent CRASH!

  Sam grabbed hold of a bracing bar, just in time for the submarine to start spinning again. They went circling down the tunnel, as though they were being flushed down a toilet bowl.

  It rolled nearly a dozen times before finally coming to rest.

  Sam stared out the porthole.

  The murky water appeared to be slowing down, as though something was impeding its movement. Whatever water was making its way through, it wouldn’t be enough to drown the miners below. On the other side of the submarine, Sam could see Tom taking a long look out the other side.

  “The water’s stopped!” Tom said.

  Sam looked at the position of the hatch, now below his feet. “That’s great, but I think we’re now resting right on top of the hatch.”

  *

  At the pilot controls of the submarine, Rescue One, Michael watched the sudden movement of the Sea Witch in horror. Something appeared to have given way, so that the small submarine started tumbling down the tunnel again.

  “What the hell happened?” he asked.

  “If I had a guess, I’d say Sam just worked out how to cut the hydraulic cables for the robotic arm, freeing the Sea Witch to be drawn further down the tunnel,” Veyron replied.

  “That’s great.”

  “It may be. And it might not.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  Veyron adjusted the angle of his sonar, and said, “Unless they had the good fortune to land in such a way that they block the tunnel and also have access to their hatch, we’re going to have to go in there after them.”

  “And, did they have good luck?”

  “How’s the current? Is Rescue One still pulling towards the ent
rance?”

  “Yes, but it’s not as strong,” Michael confirmed.

  Next to him, Veyron pulled away from the sonar screen. “Shit.”

  “It’s not where it needs to be?”

  “No. As luck would have it, the Sea Witch appears to be lying upside down, which means there’s no possible way they can get out.” Veyron looked at his watch. “And by my calculations, they don’t have much more Hydrox to breathe. You’d better take us in.”

  “You want me to navigate Rescue One, in there?” Michael was incredulous.

  “I believe it is the only way we can move the Sea Witch so that it blocks the flow of water, and saves your miners – that is, if you have the constitution to keep going?”

  “Damn you, Veyron. They’re my men. Of course, I’ll do it!”

  “Good man. Now, I’d be most obliged if you were to avoid getting us stuck, too.”

  *

  Sam’s dive watch made an irritating noise, the kind of grating sound capable of waking the dead. He stared at it, for a moment hoping his vision was playing tricks.

  He muttered a soft oath - no such luck.

  The timer indicated he was out of Hydrox.

  He knew there’d be a few more minutes of residual Hydrox inside his dive helmet, but it was mostly irrelevant now. They had run out of time.

  Concealed inside his dive helmet, Sam displayed a broad last smile. The sort he was renowned for, which said, he could have it all.

  He and Tom had saved as many as 10,000 people today.

  Not a bad way to die.

  “Sorry to drag you into this, Tom.”

  “Not your fault Sam. Had to be done.”

  The Sea Witch jolted. “Can you see what happened?” Sam asked.

  Tom moved towards his nearest porthole. “Well I’ll be! Who would’ve thought, eh?”

  “What?” Sam moved toward the porthole and looked out.

  “Some idiot just piloted Rescue One into the tunnel!”

  Rescue One wasn’t trying to turn them around so that they could escape. It was attempting to push them further into the tunnel, so they could block the entire flow of water.

  We must be missing something. The water must still be flowing beneath us.

  They moved another few feet towards the narrowest point of the tunnel, and then stopped dead still.

  Sam’s Hydrox supply ran out.

  “Some rescue team. They should’ve come a couple minutes earlier. We’ve had some fun Tom, but now I’m out. Good luck.”

  “I have another five minutes. I’ll buddy up with you, and we’ll get out of here alive.”

  “The hell you will. We both know it’s going to take them a lot more than a couple minutes to rescue you.”

  “Whatever you like, Sam.” Tom moved above Sam and started to attach his secondary rescue regulator to the back of Sam’s Hydrox tank.

  Sam tried to move away, but he suddenly found his body no longer had the strength to fight it.

  The darkness came over him. Not the horrifying obscurity that is taught to us since childhood of death. But instead, a warm, comforting darkness, like a blanket. Something to cuddle up to, and die.

  Then there was the intense light.

  For a moment, Sam thought the glow might be the radiant light of a powerful oxythermic torch, cutting through the thick hull of the submarine.

  But it was followed by more darkness.

  And then nothing at all.

  *

  The thick steel fell away from the submarine. Dumping the oxythermic torch on the ground next to him, Michael peered through the opened hull. Inside, two bodies floated, their eyes lifeless as a corpse.

  We were too late…

  “They’re dead,” he said to Veyron.

  “Bullshit they’re dead! Let’s get them to the diving bell. It’s got a hyperbaric oxygen chamber inside. If they’ve run out of Hydrox, they’ve only just run out of it!”

  Michael grabbed the first body he could reach and dragged it through the new opening. Veyron took the limp diver and said, “I’ve got him. You grab the next one, and I’ll get him in the hyperbaric chamber.”

  “Okay.”

  The diving bell had been relocated directly next to the entrance to the pyramid, and a visiting doctor had remained on board, in case Sam and Tom needed resuscitating.

  Michael reached through the moon pool, where the doctor had already removed Tom’s helmet. “How’s he looking, Doc?”

  “His oxygen levels are very low, but he’s still breathing on his own,” the doctor replied, while holding a 100% oxygen mask over Tom’s face and squeezing a bag next to it in rapid, deep, movements to ventilate him. “Quick, get Sam’s helmet off so we can start working on him.”

  Michael and Veyron worked to quickly remove Sam’s helmet.

  His face was ashen, and it was immediately apparent that he was no longer breathing. Michael slipped a finger beneath the dive suit, and felt for a carotid pulse. “He still has a pulse, but it’s weak!”

  Veyron already had the bag valve oxygen mask set up. He quickly attached it to Sam’s face, and began to ventilate him with 100% oxygen.

  “Over here, Doc. Sam needs your help.”

  Monitoring equipment showed that his oxygen saturation levels were less than 30 % – a reading not ordinarily associated with life. And the heart monitor showed that Sam’s heart rate was very slow, no more than twenty beats per minute.

  Veyron continued to ventilate him.

  “His oxygen levels are coming up, but his heart rate is dwindling.”

  The doc drew up an injection of adrenaline and then gave it straight into the large vein in Sam’s neck.

  Thirty seconds later, a stupid, slightly intoxicated kind of grin came across Sam’s face.

  “Veyron,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “What took you so long?”

  *

  The next time Sam was awake, he and Tom were inside the dive bell’s hyperbaric chamber. His head still hurt, his thinking processes slower. Clearly his brain was recovering from its oxygen starved state.

  “You there Tom?”

  “I’m here. I knew they couldn’t kill you that easily.”

  “I thought I told you to keep your own damn Hydrox?”

  “And since when have I ever listened to your orders?” Tom replied.

  Sam tried to sit up, but found himself too dizzy to do so. “Thank you, Tom.”

  He didn’t hear the next words Tom said. Instead he heard the confident, bordering on arrogant, Harvard trained voice of Michael Rodriguez.

  “You’re awake, Sam. That’s great.”

  “Michael, what are you doing in the dive bell?” Sam slurred.

  Veyron approached and stared down at him. “He was saving your ass.”

  “You saved me?” Sam was confused.

  “It turned out that I was the only one left who could pilot the submarine,” Michael explained. “It’s you and Tom who really saved everyone.”

  “The miners?”

  “They got wet, but they didn’t drown – thanks to the two of you. It appears you live up to your reputation, Mr. Reilly.”

  Sam grinned. “We did it, but there’s going to be months of work to seal the other side of the tunnel and bring a team of archeologists down to explore the tomb.”

  “There is, but you saved them both. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I have a proposal for you Sam Reilly,” Michael said.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “It’s something particularly important to me. Much more so than the mine you just saved. I need some time to talk to you… but not here.”

  “Why not here?” Sam asked, stuck inside the hyperbaric chamber, most likely for hours.

  “For what I’m interested in, I need to talk to you alone. It’s not that I don’t trust your crew specifically. I don’t trust anyone with what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Where then?”

  “I have a yach
t – a traditional Mayan sailboat. We both have work to do to get the next operations underway. You with your archeological dig, and me reestablishing a highly profitable silver mine. Not tomorrow – say the following day, Thursday?”

  Sam didn’t answer.

  “Come sailing with me. Just the two of us. It will be fun, and I can tell you what I need.”

  Sam had no idea what his most recent billionaire friend wanted, but he was intrigued. Besides, after today’s events, he could use a day out sailing an antique sailboat.

  Chapter Six

  The wind was light in the Gulf of Mexico, but the Mayan sailboat even lighter, and as Sam helped to raise its single sail, the little boat picked up speed. Sam grinned, his teeth white as the little ship’s sail. He felt like a boy on his favorite theme park ride.

  This was real sailing. Between himself and Michael, the two men owned more than most countries spent on their military each year, but now, they’d been reduced to a couple of overgrown children, trying not to fall out of the little boat.

  Michael surprised him with his competence. Clearly the man had spent a lot of time on the water. As the midday sun rested above the horizon, the light wind became no wind. Above their heads, the single sail flapped aimlessly.

  “Did you bring a little motor?” Sam asked.

  “No, did you?” Michael laughed.

  “No, I forgot that.”

  “Do you think the wind will pick up?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “That’s okay, that’s why I have these.” Michael said, showing him a pair of oars. “It’s only about three miles back to land. You’re in no rush?”

  “No,” Sam lied.

  He watched as Michael comfortably connected the oars to their rollicks and start rowing. Strong chest, back and arms pulled on the oars, the outline of each muscle stood out, well defined. The man, Sam observed, had lost none of his strength over the years.

  Sam sat there enjoying the warm Mexican sun and the coolness of its water for half an hour in silence. Michael had brought him here for a reason, and that reason certainly wasn’t so that he could forget that the wind stopped like clockwork at midday, so he could have a long row back to the harbor.