Codex

by Bill Craig

  The wind was dying down so the ship was swaying less than it had been when he had first boarded it, and the thunder and lightning were moving away, making it less vulnerable to a lightning strike blowing it up. Thank God for small favors. Fortune had cleared the gondola area and was getting ready to head up into the airframe that housed the gas bags. It was the only place that he hadn’t checked yet.

  He knew from questioning the crew that the captain had returned to the ship to weather the storm, but had not wanted to risk his crew. That was something that Fortune could admire. One thing was for sure. He would be glad when this particular job had ended and he was back in the United States with some green backs in his pockets. He was also looking forward to dinner with Glory Newkirk.

  Fortune shook his head to focus on the job at hand. He shoved open the trap door, waited a few seconds and then scrambled up onto the roof of the gondola. Up here in the airframe, his pistols were useless. A spark could make the whole thing go up like the Hindenburg, which would end their trip back to civilization really quick.

  The sound of the wind outside was louder up here. Jake found himself thankful that the Zeppelin had been well-secured by the crew when they had “landed” to wait out the storm. Still, there was enough play in the lines that the big airship swayed a little with the wind, and the airframe amplified the sounds of the wind blowing through small ventilation spaces in the outer skin.

  Fortune pulled his flashlight from his pants pocket and clicked it to life. The beam of white pierced the darkness inside the airframe. The bad part was, it would make it just as easy for the captain to find him as it would for him to find the captain.

  Jake moved forward heading for one of the ladders that led up to the catwalks that ran among the gas bags. Fortune kept an ear cocked, hoping to hear Captain Meijer if he moved. Jake didn’t want to be caught unaware by the airship captain.

  Rupert Meijer huddled in the shadow of one of the enormous gas bags. He had ditched his Lugar, knowing it would be useless up here. He had no desire to die a fiery death. Instead, he had a large American Bowie knife. It would be the perfect weapon up here among the gas bags.

  He had spotted the beam of light from the electric torch carried by what he assumed was one of the Americans. None of his men carried such a device. They really weren’t needed on an airship. Most crewmembers were only up here during daylight hours when a certain amount of sunlight penetrated the airframe through the ventilation holes. Those were necessary in case of a hydrogen leak. Pure hydrogen could easily suffocate a person because it would not allow oxygen to penetrate it.

  Meijer had decided to lie in wait for the man that was hunting him with the hope that he would be able to overpower him and be able to use him as a hostage to recover his ship. He crouched down on the edge of the catwalk and waited, sweat dripping down his forehead.

  Jake had decided to start in the tail section and work his way forward. It was slow going up among the gasbags. He had his Bowie knife sheathed on his belt. It was the only weapon he had that would be of use up here.

  Fortune paused to look at his watch. It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening and the inside of the airframe was as black as pitch except for what was revealed in the beam of the white cone of light coming from his flashlight.

  He was getting tired, but he knew that he had to find the captain before he could stop. Once he had the captain secured, then he would be able to rest. Jake paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Despite it being late and the storm, it was very hot up in the airframe.

  His shirt had been pretty tattered before he had climbed up there, and it was only getting worse. He used what was left of one sleeve to clear the sweat from his eyes. He was just moving past one of the bags when a large, dark shape, hit him and knocked him to the floor of the catwalk!

  Fortune rolled with the blow and came up on his feet facing his attacker on the steel catwalk. He reached down and drew the large bladed Bowie knife. His flashlight was rolling around on the catwalk and it caught the gleaming steel blade of the other man’s knife.

  The other man, he had to assume it was the captain of the airship, lunged at him, swinging his blade. Fortune ducked back, and then charged, swiping his own blade towards the man’s throat. The man jerked back away from the blade.

  “Surrender,” Fortune told him.

  “Never,” the man replied, in heavily accented English.

  “I don’t want to kill you.”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  “Then surrender.”

  “I can’t,” the man replied.

  “You will. Or you will die,” Jake Fortune told him.

  The man lunged at Fortune, trying to stab him with his blade. Fortune dodged and swung his blade, drawing a line of blood as the tip sliced across his chest, darkening his gray uniform. The man screamed and swiped with his own blade which Fortune evaded and then he lunged forward and buried his own blade in the man’s chest. The ship’s captain collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from his chest.

  Fortune collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving as he fought to draw breath. As he watched, the light faded from the airship captain’s eyes. He reached over and covered the man’s eyes, shutting them. Then, he withdrew his knife and headed down the nearest ladder that would take him from the catwalk back to the bottom of the airframe so he could return to the gondola. He had tried to capture the man, but the guy just wouldn’t have it. The German had left Fortune with no choice.

  It took some time to remove the dead airship captain from the catwalk between the airbags, but once it was done, and crew saw the reverence with which the Americans buried him on the jungle floor and they agreed to fly them back to civilization.

  The storm had finally passed and the sky was clear and bright the following afternoon. The Zeppelin lifted once more into the air and turned, heading back towards the coast. Jake had been on the radio speaking via short wave to some friends in the States who had gotten word to Peabody Griffin that they were on their way back towards the coast. Griffin had sent word that he was sending a large seaplane to pick up the members of the expedition and whatever artifacts they had managed to save and bring out of The Lost City before it had been buried under the erupting volcano.

  Finally, they all had a chance to relax as the ship sailed smoothly above the jungle towards Ciudad del Carmen, the port where they had originally landed. It was during this time that Glory approached Jake and dropped into a seat across from him. “How are you doing, Jake?”

  “I’m a little stiff and sore, but I’m healing. I’m not sure what to do with myself after we get back,” he replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a soldier, Glory. A soldier without a war. I need the danger and excitement. Home is too dull without it.”

  “What if you had a job that might give you a chance to have that danger and excitement?”

  “What kind of a job?”

  “I was on the radio communicating with my Uncle Peabody and he wants to see us both when we get back. He said something about hiring you for another job,” Glory explained.

  “What kind of job?” he asked.

  “He didn’t say, adding only that it would be dangerous and fraught with peril,” Glory told him.

  “That sure sounds like my kind of job. I’ll probably take it as long as we get to have that dinner together first,” Jake said.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she smiled.

  The port of Ciudad del Carmen, Mexico.

  The Boeing 314 Clipper rocked quietly on the ocean, tethered to a large dock. The name painted on the side was The Sea Storm. The door opened and the pilot stepped out onto the deck wearing a pair of jodhpurs, knee-high boots and a white silk short-sleeved shirt that hugged her generous curves. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her skin was tanned a golden brown. Using a hand to shield her eyes from the tropical sun, she searched the sky to the west.

  Her name was Stella Savage, called Storm
y by close friends. She was the pilot of the newly manufactured long range flying boat and she had been sent down here to pick up the expedition that had gone into the interior on behalf of Peabody Griffin. According to the radio reports, the craft should be arriving within the hour. Once it did and they got everything transferred to her flying craft, they would immediately head back to New York City.

  “See ‘em yet, Skipper?” Rip Tomlin asked, as he stepped out onto the dock behind her. Rip was her co-pilot and best friend. He was tall with dark brown hair and blue eyes, a square jaw with a cleft in his chin. He reminded Stormy of some movie matinee star. He was rugged and dependable and good in a fight if it came down to it.

  “I see them now,” Stormy replied, pointing. Then, he could see the sunlight gleaming off the silvery skin of the Zeppelin as it cruised towards the docks and started easing out of the sky and towards the ground.

  “I bet it would be fun to fly one of them birds,” Rip said admiringly.

  “So, come along and you can ask the people we’re meeting.” Stormy started walking down the dock. Rip took a moment to secure the plane’s door and then he trotted after her.

  “Thank God, we are back on the ground!” Mike Rogers dropped to his knees and kissed the tarmac. Jake Fortune chuckled as he walked past his friend. Then, he turned and watched the rest of the expedition disembark, carrying whatever they had with them. Once they were all off the ship, the lines were released and it lifted off again with the remaining skeletal German crew to maneuver it back to the Fatherland, heading out over the Atlantic.

  “This has been quite the trip,” Glory Newkirk smiled.

  “Yes, it has. We just have one more leg on our journey to complete,” Jake said.

  “Speaking of which, do you know where this pilot is that is supposed to fly us back?”

  “Looks like it might be one of them.” Jake pointed at a man and a woman approaching from a long wooden dock.

  Glory followed his gaze and was surprised to see that one of them was a woman. A very beautiful blonde Viking like warrior type of woman, at that. She immediately bristled. “I wonder which one,” she said, in a most unlady-like tone.

  “You the Newkirk expedition?” the young woman asked. Glory immediately stepped forward, long red curls bouncing.

  “I’m Professor Newkirk.”

  The woman stuck out her hand to shake theirs. “Captain Stormy Savage, nice to meet you. Let’s get everybody to the plane so we can get out of here,” the blonde told her. Then, she turned and headed back down the dock. Glory waved to the rest and started after her. Jack Fortune smiled and looked at the man that had accompanied her.

  “How are you, Rip?” he asked.

  “Good, Jake. How about you?”

  “I’ve been getting along. How about I buy you a beer when we get to New York and tell you all about it?”

  “I’d like that.” Fortune clapped him on the back and they started walking towards the plane. As they were following the others, they heard the sound of tires screeching as two trucks screamed across the tarmac towards the dock they were walking down.

  “Friends of yours?” Rip asked.

  “Not so much,” Jake said, pulling his guns. He flipped the safety off on the automatic and thumbing back the hammer of his revolver.

  “Never a dull moment with you, Jake,” Rip laughed, as he pulled his own gun. They turned as one and opened fire on the rapidly approaching trucks. The windshield spider-webbed under the impact of their bullets and the trucks skidded to a halt.

  The engines of the float plane coughed to life behind them. “Go,” Rip yelled.

  “We do this together, Pal,” Fortune told him, as he grabbed Rip’s arm and hauled him towards the plane. They both dived aboard and Rip pulled the hatch shut as the Boeing started moving away from the dock at a fast clip. Soon, Captain Stormy was lifting it into the air on a heading for New York.

  As the amphibious aircraft flew through the turbulence of the Gulf Stream waters below and parted the fluffy clouds that hung there, the mysterious envelope that Jacobs had put in the postal mail after Saleem’s assassination was making its way to the penthouse of Mr. Peabody Griffin.

  The End . . . and the Beginning

  COMING SOON

  The Tomb of Osirus

  A Fortune & Glory Action Thriller

  PREVIEW

  Cairo, Egypt 1939

  “Run!” Jake Fortune yelled, shoving Glory ahead of him, as several masked men charged at them. They had not much more gotten off the plane when he had spotted several men paying them a lot more attention than seemed necessary. So, now they were racing down the narrow streets and across open courts trying to get away. They darted down a narrow alleyway that ended up opening into a crowded souk or marketplace. Jake didn’t even have his guns, as they were in his luggage which had been left behind at the airport when the thugs started after them.

  “Do you have any idea where we are?” Glory gasped as they skidded around another corner.

  “No, but I have an idea of where we’re going,” Jake said over his shoulder. He shoved open a door and dragged her into a building, slamming the door behind them. Ahead of them were stairs leading to an upper level. Jake pushed her in front of him. “Go!” he told her as he looked for something, anything, to block the door with. There was nothing. He charged up the stairs after Glory.

  She hadn’t stopped on the first landing, electing to keep climbing, so Jake ran after her. The higher they went, an idea was forming. They reached the roof and shut the door behind them. Jake ran to the edge and peeked below. The group that was after them had run past and were disappearing around the far corner. They didn’t have much time.

  “Kid, this is going to sound crazy, but we are going to jump over to the roof of that building back the way we came.”

  “You’re right, that does sound crazy!”

  “It’s our best chance to escape, and find a ride to the hotel. Can you do it?”

  “Now is as good a time as any to find out!” Together they ran for the edge and hurtled out into space.