The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 3

by Christopher Cartwright

“The shipping container?”

  “No. The Gordoye Dostizheniye.”

  “You’re meant to be the best in the business. How did you lose a ship in less than a hundred feet of water?” Her words came out vitriolic. “You were given its precise GPS coordinates where it sank for God’s sake!”

  Sam grinned. It had been a while since he’d been the recipient of her dissatisfaction. “We think the Gordoye Dostizheniye was dragged under by a giant sinkhole. We brought out a dredging vessel to clear the ground below, but if the ship’s down there, it’s a long way down.”

  “How long?”

  “Well. Nothing came up on our ground penetrating radar, which was able to infiltrate up to a hundred feet below the seabed.”

  “Do you think there might be a series of tunnels below the seabed?”

  Sam thought about it for a moment. “It’s one possibility.”

  “And if there was such a tunnel, and part of it collapsed, could that have caused the sort of sinkhole you’re talking about – something big enough to devour all traces of the Gordoye Dostizheniye?”

  “Sure. It’s definitely a possibility if the tunnel was large enough. The thing is, there’s no evidence of any sort of subterranean tunnels anywhere north of the Aleutian Islands. Heck, there isn’t even any evidence of volcanic activities that could have once caused a series of lava tubes. So, I think it’s all still in the highly speculative category.”

  Sam waited for the Secretary of Defense to reply. When she didn’t, he asked, “Don’t you think?”

  Instead, she asked a new question. “Is the Russian frigate still surveying the Bering Strait for the Gordoye Dostizheniye?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they ask where you thought the ship disappeared to?”

  “Yeah. Matthew spoke with her captain about an hour ago.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The truth. We have no idea where she went.”

  “Good. Hopefully he’ll keep scouring the seabed long enough for you to reach Big Diomede Island.”

  “What’s on Big Diomede Island?”

  “The first stage in the construction of the Bering Strait Crossing.”

  “That whacky idea for Russia, Canada and the U.S. to build a tunnel for a bullet train linking the three countries?”

  “That’s the one. But not just an idea. Construction began several months ago.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “Yes,” she responded dryly. “Let me cut to the chase. Their Big Bertha class boring machine punched a hole through the stone, into a large cavern. So far, they haven’t been able to retrieve their machine or its crew.”

  “You think the two incidents are connected?”

  “If it isn’t, it’s an awfully strange coincidence.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “The same thing I asked you to do for me yesterday. Locate the Gordoye Dostizheniye and retrieve the shipping container 404.”

  “Do you think the construction team are going to be happy for us to go searching for your secret container while they’re resolving a disaster?”

  “They will be. They’re scouring the Alaskan countryside for a rescue team.”

  “A mine rescue team?” Sam asked. “Didn’t they have their own team available to go in already?”

  “They did. But the team never came out again.”

  “Great. And you’d like us to offer our services?”

  “No. I’m ordering you to find that shipping container. I’ll contact the construction company and tell them you’re on your way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was only a few minutes later that Elise notified him of a call from British Columbia. The Secretary of Defense must have had that CEO on speed-dial. If he was to help out the crew on the Transcontinental World Link project he would need information. The Secretary of Defense may have a department researcher, but Sam had the best data-miner in the world.

  “Elise, get me everything you can on a Canadian drilling company losing their tunneling machine to an underground sink hole. Then cross-reference it to any other unusual geologic events in the past month.”

  “On it,” she replied.

  With that, Sam picked up the ship-to-shore satellite phone. “Sam Reilly.”

  “Mr. Reilly, my name’s Russel Wheeler. I have it on good authority that you’re the best there is at underground salvage, and more importantly than that, you just happen to be nearby my tunnel boring project on Tomorrow Island. Is that true?”

  Sam grinned. “My mother taught me not to brag, sir, but we can certainly try our best to assist you. I hear you’ve lost a valuable machine down one heck of a sinkhole?”

  The CEO’s voice was solemn. “Her crew of five is our first priority. Their families deserve to know their fate for certain, and to have their remains returned to them if what we fear is true.”

  Sam liked the man. He’d known men, including his own father, for whom the expense would be first on his mind. “Of course, sir. We’ll do our best, but as you can imagine, by the sounds of what I’ve been told we’re unlikely to find any survivors.”

  “I understand.” Wheeler paused for a moment and then spoke, “Do you have any idea what possibly caused it?”

  “No, sir. We’ve only just been made aware of it.”

  “If you can get to it, I’d like to recover my workers, dead or alive, and then get an evaluation of whether it’s worth trying to recover the machine.”

  “Sure. We’ll see what we find.” Sam took a deep breath, held it and then said. “The rescue mission and any assistance we can provide for the recovery of those trapped inside is on the house. If we locate the boring machine and you want our help to retrieve it, we’ll talk about the price. Does that sound fair?”

  “More than fair. We’ll be happy to pay according to standard Lloyds Open Form terms if we ask you to do the salvage of the machine.”

  It was the first time he’d heard an owner accept LOF without preamble. “That will work fine. Out of curiosity, what’s the machine worth?” Sam asked.

  “She was originally built by Hitachi for Seattle’s Alaskan Way Viaduct replacement tunnel for $80 million U.S. Of course, she had a $20 million-dollar overhaul before she came to us,” the CEO answered.

  Sam whistled. It would be a nice little salvage job, if it could be done. He wouldn’t know until he’d seen the situation first-hand. “Well, we’ll have to see what we’re up against,” he remarked. “We can be on-site within the hour. Does the island have a helipad?”

  “Yeah. Right next to the entrance to the boring tunnel. Despite its name, Big Diomede Island is tiny. You can’t miss the helipad. But, Reilly, be aware we have a weird localized turbulent air weather condition here, apparently originating in the bore hole.”

  “Is it affecting the landing pad area?”

  “No, but I thought your pilot might want to know.”

  “Great, I’ll let her know,” Sam said. “We’ll take the helicopter and see them as soon as we can.”

  Sam wasted no time, but contacted Matthew with the change of plans immediately. Moments later, he felt the change in the ship’s engines. A few minutes after that, Tom predictably arrived at Sam’s cabin door.

  “What’s up? We’re moving.”

  Sam pretended shock. “Really?”

  “Cut the crap. Where are we going? Or is it a surprise?” Tom could match Sam sarcasm for sarcasm.

  “Come in, take a load off. I’ll fill you in.”

  While Sam told Tom all he knew from the Secretary and the CEO of the drilling company, Tom stayed silent. When Sam stopped talking, he waited for Tom’s response. Tom had a slight smile, and appeared to be thinking it all over.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your head, buddy,” Sam said. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll take a sinkhole without sand in it over one with sand in it any day,” Tom quipped. “Yeah, I know that’s what you think happened to that ship. And I don’t have a b
etter answer. But I’m glad we’re not going to try to dig in and dive it, frankly.”

  “What do you make of the hot wind coming out of the sinkhole where the tunneling machine went down?”

  “Hard to say. I guess my first thought would be it bottoms out in an underwater fumarole. If that’s the case, we’re going to need some serious safety equipment to get to the machine, if it isn’t already submerged in magma,” Tom’s expression changed as he considered the implications. “And the abyss might be filled with lethal gases, too!”

  Sam grinned. “Not so anxious to switch from a dive under unstable sand to climbing voluntarily into an active volcano, huh?”

  “I’ve had better offers.” Tom grinned.

  “So, we’ll need to get some climbing gear, breathing apparatus and exposure suits ready. We’d better round up Veyron and plan for the worst. If the situation isn’t that dire when we get there, so much the better. Genevieve’s going to drop us off as soon as we’re good to go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Sea King’s rotor blades began turning slowly, accelerating until they reached lift-off rotation. Genevieve firmly gripped the collective control lever beside her seat and the cyclic-pitch control column in front of her, easing the helicopter off the aft deck of the Maria Helena. The helicopter hovered for a moment, before she dipped the nose, applied the throttles, and headed south.

  In the back of the helicopter Sam sat reading a series of notes Elise had prepared for him on the Transcontinental World Link. Once he was finished with the basic concept of the project, he moved on to information regarding the gigantic boring machine. Finally, he examined the geologist’s survey of the region. The Diomede Islands were primarily composed of Cretaceous-Age granite or quartz monzonite, meaning the islands were formed through glacial movements and not volcanic activity.

  He shook his head. None of it made any sense. If the Big Bertha boring machine didn’t disappear down some sort of lava tube, where did it go?

  Genevieve asked, “Which island are they boring into?”

  Sam said, “They’re running a land bridge from Alaska to Yesterday Isle, and then a tunnel from Tomorrow Island to the Siberian Peninsular.”

  “Why do they call the islands Yesterday and Tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Because the international date line runs straight through the middle. Big Diomede is twenty-one hours ahead of Little Diomede.”

  “Go figure.”

  Sam looked up. They’d been in the air less than ten minutes, but already Big Diomede was visible through the plexiglass, with Little Diomede just beyond it. The entrance to the first stage of the tunnel came into view a few seconds later. A couple hundred feet back from the entrance was a large pile of quartz, stretching more than fifty feet in the air and three hundred feet back. Those rocks, he’d read, would be used to join both islands together. Closer to the tunnel entrance, contrasting the white mountain of quartz, was a pile of red soil twenty feet high.

  Tom asked, “What the hell is that?”

  Sam watched as a small contingent of men in mining overalls and suits made their way toward the helipad. He said, “I have no idea, but I think we’re going to soon find out.”

  Genevieve spotted the helipad next to the main entrance. She made one reconnaissance circuit and then put the Sea King down. She left the rotors turning while Sam, Tom and Veyron began removing the equipment. When Tom came to grab the last crate, he leaned into the cockpit and kissed Genevieve’s lips.

  Genevieve pulled back an instant later. “Don’t let Sam lead you astray. You know how stupid he can be, right?”

  “I know. I’ll look after him,” Tom said.

  “Hey, I’m right here,” Sam said. “I can hear you, you know?”

  Genevieve looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “That’s what I’m counting on, Sam.”

  Sam grabbed the last kit and Tom slid the door shut. Twenty seconds later, the Sea King was back in the air, returning to the Maria Helena. The pile of equipment they expected to use over the next few days were stacked neatly in a row. The small contingent of miners and experts approached.

  “Nice chopper,” one of the engineers said.

  “Thanks,” Sam responded. “I guess your CEO contacted you about me.”

  “Not my CEO,” the spokesman answered. “We’re consultants, too. Just like you. He did ask us to cooperate with you.”

  “Fair enough,” Sam said, nodding. “So, who’s in charge?”

  “That will be me.” A man in his early fifties approached and offered his hand. “Michael Gallagher. I’m the head foreman for the project. I was in charge when the boring machine punched a hole into the sinkhole. Those are my men down there.”

  Sam shook his hand. “Understood. All right. Let’s get right down to it. What are we looking at, here? Nice cowboy hat, by the way. You don’t see many Stetsons around here.”

  “Oh, I forgot I was wearing it,” Gallagher said. “I thought it was odd, too. It came out of that accursed hole in the ground. Just flew up and came to land a few feet in front of me. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

  “Did it belong to one of the crew of the boring machine?” Sam asked.

  “No one claims to have ever seen it before,” Gallagher said. “Could we talk about the project?”

  “Sure. Have you been able to approach the edge of the sinkhole yet?”

  “We’ve been getting closer every day. I know what you’re going to ask. We don’t think it’s an active volcano. The heat is dissipating. I’ll let our geologist tell you his theory.”

  Sam turned politely to the man Gallagher indicated. “Not a volcano? That’s good news.”

  “It sure is,” the geologist responded. “Of course, we haven’t been able to get down there to test my theory, but I think a fissure may have opened under the main sinkhole. It’s letting out heated gasses under pressure, but as the pressure is relieved by the release of gas, it’s beginning to close up again.”

  Sam looked at Tom, who nodded. “That makes sense. Any idea whether the fumarole will open again? What happens if we get down there and it releases more superheated gas?”

  “Then you get fried,” the geologist answered cheerfully. “I can’t honestly predict what it will do. We’re far north of the convergent boundary that runs by the Aleutian Islands. We wouldn’t have expected any earth movement here, or very little.”

  “And yet…” Sam prompted.

  “And yet, the borer broke into an enormous sinkhole, and the heated wind gives us our only clue…that the sinkhole is related to the fumarole that’s spewing the heat. Sorry, but that’s all I can tell you. I haven’t had the equipment to explore enough to prove any of it. It’s just a theory.”

  Sam was lost in thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Has anyone been monitoring the heat level?”

  “They didn’t have the equipment to do it until we got here,” the geologist reported. “It did raise the temperature level in the tunnel to about 80 degrees Fahrenheit, which is pretty significant. Outside temperature was averaging in the upper 40s to low 50s Fahrenheit during the day, slightly cooler at night. The tunnel temperature was a few degrees cooler than that, just above freezing.”

  “And since you arrived?” Sam prompted.

  “Outside temps have risen slightly, which is normal for the season. Tunnel temperature has fallen slightly, to around 75. Temperature of the wind stream is hovering just below 80 now. When we got here, the wind was stronger and the heat in the center of the stream was near 150. No one could get near the edge to look down into the tunnel. They didn’t have the equipment for it.”

  Tom leaned forward. “And they call that searing heat?” He forced a laugh. “Sam, we have an improved version of the suits we wore in the Sahara.”

  “That’s good. The old version would have been adequate, though.”

  “Yes, I think so. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tom grinned. His mood had improved since the Maria Helena had left the vicinity of
the sand mound in the Bering Strait.

  “I’m thinking we need a very long line and a winch,” Sam quipped.

  “We have both, but it will take a few hours to get the winch in place,” Tom said. “Should we get some sleep first?”

  “Good idea. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

  The tunnel crew foreman put in his contribution. “We have winches. What are you thinking? You’re going down there?” He shuddered.

  “I don’t know how else we’re going to find your machine,” Sam said. His grin matched Tom’s. This was going to be a walk in the park compared to the prospect of finding a ship under hundreds of tons of sand.

  “Better you than me,” Gallagher muttered. “You men get your rest. My crew will place the equipment and have it ready for you in the morning. They’ve had little enough to do for the past few days.”

  “Thanks.” Sam extended his hand and the foreman shook it enthusiastically.

  “No, thank you.”

  Sam said, “We were told you’d already sent a rescue team in?”

  Gallagher nodded, but his face was solemn. “We did.”

  “And what did they find?”

  “We lost contact with them shortly after they entered the tunnel.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was early when Sam and Tom returned from the Maria Helena to find the senior engineer, the geologist, the foreman, and several of his men gathered around the hole in the tunnel floor. Veyron was there, too. He’d stayed to ensure the winch was set up correctly.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” Gallagher said.

  Sam said, “Tell me the good news first.”

  “Temperature has fallen to about the same as in the tunnel here,” Gallagher said.

  “That’s a good sign, but we’re prepared for worse below.” Sam didn’t demonstrate by showing the thermal suit he wore under his clothes. It wasn’t exactly top secret, but he didn’t take industrial espionage lightly, and they’d been entrusted with the secrecy of the high-tech cooling suits.

  “And the bad news?”

  “One of the men from the mines rescue team came out about an hour ago.”