The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 3

by Christopher Cartwright

  Sam studied the live video feed, searching the faces of everyone he could see, as well as the few divers on the water’s surface. His eyes narrowed as he examined a few faces, but nothing stood out to him.

  “No luck?” Ridley asked.

  “No.”

  “All right.” Leaving the continuous feed running, Ridley opened a new window that displayed the previous hour of recordings. He clicked play. “Here, have a look at this.”

  Sam took another drink of his beer, and stared at the video recording. It showed some of the organizers setting up the diving barge. “Can you increase the speed?”

  Ridley nodded. Pointing at the video controls, he said to Sam, “Help yourself.”

  Sam sped up the feed, stopping it intermittently to examine any new divers as they entered the water. Ten minutes later, he reached the end of the recording.

  Tom shook his head, “I don’t know, Sam. Your man either got here earlier, or he entered the water from behind us?”

  Sam turned to face the clear blue water behind them. No one was on the surface, but that didn’t mean that his attacker couldn’t have entered unseen from that end of the flotilla. It would make more sense to do so, given he’d intended to murder someone.

  Ridley looked up. “I’ve got to go meet someone. Feel free to stay here and keep an eye out for your friend if you want. There’s plenty of beer downstairs if you want it.”

  Sam said, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Tom scanned the area for any divers getting out of the water. “Now what?”

  Sam sighed. “Now we wait.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The warm midday sun glistened overhead, sending rays of light deep into the water.

  Tom glanced at the still water and took another drink of his beer. “Tell me about the changes that have already happened.”

  “What?” Sam asked.

  “You said in the last three months the world has already undergone massive global changes due to this sudden shift in the magnetic poles, and the subsequent slowing of the ocean’s thermohaline circulations. What were they?”

  Sam sighed heavily. “I’ll start as far south as Antarctica and work my way back a little closer to home, with what we’ve found so far. Like I said before, all of it could conceivably have occurred in any given year, but together it paints the picture of an impending doom. Some of these changes are small, but anyone with half a brain can see that it’s going to affect the entire world.”

  Tom nodded. “Okay.”

  “In Antarctica we have two main areas of concern currently, indicating rising global sea temperatures.” Sam removed a digital tablet from his backpack and opened up an image file, handing it to Tom. “Have a look at these.”

  Tom took the tablet and studied the image. It depicted an aerial shot over snow-covered Antarctica. In the middle were three stunning blue lakes. Their brilliant shade of sapphire blue indicated the purity of the deep water forming above the ice. Tom recalled that the blue hue of the pure water was a common sight when he was in Antarctica searching for the man behind the Cassidy Project – it was caused by an intrinsic property of water that allowed only selective absorption and the scattering of white light. The effect here was beautiful, to say the least.

  He smiled. “They’re quite magical.”

  Sam nodded. “Truly stunning, if they weren’t so dangerous.”

  “How so?”

  “They’re known as supraglacial lakes and form as warm air heats the surface of an ice sheet to create a pond of meltwater. There are now more than eight thousand of them riddled throughout Antarctica like pockmarks.”

  “They don’t belong there?”

  “No. Such lakes are common in Greenland, silently eating away at the ice for more than thirty years, but are an entirely new phenomenon to Antarctica.” Sam took another drink of beer. “On the Langhovde Glacier in East Antarctica, these lakes have been draining into the floating ice below, which could have serious consequences for the stability of the entire ice shelf. In other cases, some of the fresh water has been documented to flow directly into the sea at the base of the glacier. This in turn has resulted in a massive influx of icy cold fresh water into salt water, which develops a tornado-like underwater current and further destroys the submerged glacier from below.”

  “And this is all new?” Tom asked.

  “The lakes were first discovered in 2010, but only in the past three months became so significant as to join each other through a series of rivers. The result of which has recently manifested in the calving of a piece of ice-shelf the size of Delaware from Larcen C, off the Antarctic Peninsula.”

  “Go on.”

  “In Australia, an entire ecosystem of Giant Kelp off the coast of Tasmania have been destroyed. Do you remember diving there nearly ten years ago, when we first searched for the Mahogany Ship?”

  “How could I forget?” Tom’s eyes widened as he recalled the unique habitat. “What happened to it?”

  “The East Australian Current, which is the Australian leg of the huge gyre that moves water around the Pacific, traditionally pushes warm water south along the coast of the mainland before turning east toward South America, and long before it hits Tasmania.”

  Tom nodded. He knew the EAC well from his experience sailing the east coast of Australia. “With the recent shift in the magnetic poles something has gone awry?”

  Sam nodded. “The warming global climate has discombobulated this once-reliable system. Huge eddies of hot, nutrient-poor water keep spinning down toward the Tasmanian coast. This in turn has caused it to become the fastest-warming body of water on Earth, its temperature rising at a speed of nearly three times that of the rest of the world’s oceans.”

  Sam took another mouthful of beer and then continued. “The warming seas are now hot enough to support the spawning of the long-spined sea urchin, an invasive pest that scours the seafloor. Giant kelp normally booms and busts, ripped away by storms before reclaiming the territory. But now the urchins move in like plague-causing locusts, nibbling away the new strands of kelp before they can grow beyond their reach. The result is miles upon miles of bare rock, covered with black, spiny invaders.”

  Tom closed his eyes and recalled the reef on which the kelp anchored itself, awash with color. Like some sort of unworldly creature, the Giant Kelp rose more than ninety feet from the seabed to the surface. Hues of red and orange glowed bright among the shifting tapestry of mustard, greens and browns.

  He opened them again. “What a loss to the world…”

  “It’s not just the Giant Kelp that’s been lost. An entire ecosystem has been destroyed with the loss of its habitat. Like the Eucalyptus trees that line Tasmania’s coastline above the water, the kelp themselves are a habitat. Nearly eighty percent of the marine animals are endemic to the area. With the destruction of their habitat, creatures as unique and strange as the Weedy Sea Dragon, often described as the delicate parrot of the kelp jungle, will also become extinct.”

  Tom glanced at two divers who climbed out of the water. Both appeared unharmed. A slight nod from Sam indicated that neither was his attacker.

  Sam said, “Heading farther north, the Great Barrier Reef, which has struggled with the global rise in sea temperatures over the past decade, suffered tremendously with coral bleaching affecting nearly seventy percent of is unique reef, stripping its coral of its vibrant colors and suffocating the living organisms that have taken nearly eight thousand years to reach their current size.”

  “I’ve heard about the coral bleaching. Australia’s been struggling with it for years now. I read last year that the predicted cost to their tourism if the reef was completely destroyed would mount into trillions of dollars.”

  Sam nodded. “It’s not just in the southern hemisphere the world’s having problems. There are a number of signs here in the north that the delicate balance of life on this Earth is teetering toward our destruction.”

  “What else?”

  “Closer to hom
e. The United States, Canada and much of Europe have suffered more wildfires in the past three months than we have seen in the past decade. There have been multiple minor earthquakes…”

  Sam took a deep breath, and then shook his head. “Even last week, Hurricane Hilda formed farther north in the Atlantic than almost any other hurricane in history. It would have destroyed half of Manhattan, if it wasn’t for that sudden freak change in direction, that had it move mysteriously north and then east back out into the Atlantic where it dissipated.”

  Tom glanced at a man fishing off his yacht. Despite being a UNESCO world heritage site and protected, some people ignored the rules. “Have you ever considered whether we’re supposed to survive?”

  “No. Survival is the one common instinct, shared among all living creatures – we all want to survive.”

  “I didn’t mean whether we wanted to or not – simply whether we should?” Tom’s jaw was set firm. “I mean, when you look back on the history of the human race, we haven’t exactly been kind to the planet, or the rest of those animals who we share it with, have we? Globally, when things go wrong, we always look at how to save ourselves and our profits, more than what is right.”

  “That’s not always true. Sometimes the human race surprises you in its ability to band together for the greater good – where altruism beats greed.”

  “Really?” Tom grinned. “Name one.”

  “The Montreal Protocol.”

  “The what?”

  Sam smiled. It was his I’ve won this argument grin. “The Montreal Protocol was agreed upon in 1987 and entered into full force by 1989. It consisted of two treaties designed to protect the ozone layer by phasing out the production of numerous substances that were responsible for ozone depletion. As a result of the international agreement, the ozone hole over Antarctica is slowly recovering. In comparison, effective burden sharing and solution proposals mitigating regional conflicts of interest have been among the success factors for the ozone depletion challenge, where global regulation based on the Kyoto Protocol has failed to do so.” Sam took a deep breath and continued. “The two ozone treaties have been ratified by 197 parties, which includes 196 states and the European Union, making them the first universally ratified treaties in United Nations history. To this date, it’s considered the world’s greatest unified achievement of the human race for the benefit of the planet.”

  “I stand corrected. When a gun is put to the human race’s head, sometimes it doesn’t respond by pulling the trigger itself.” Tom grinned and stood up. “Think this yacht has a bathroom onboard?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find one down below.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Tom walked down the spiral staircase, and used the bathroom. As he walked out to leave, he spotted a muscular and wiry man with pale white skin standing at the back of the yacht. The guy sported a yachting outfit that must have come straight out of the Calvin Klein catalogue. With his right hand, he was dabbing at his nose with a designer handkerchief.

  “Are you okay?” Tom asked.

  The guy was roughly average height, and had to lift his eyes to Tom’s, six inches above. The stranger had the most unusual green colored eyes that Tom had ever seen. Tom thought he could see something in them, too.

  What was it, recognition?

  Oh shit!

  The man reached inside his trouser pocket and removed a small flick knife. He jabbed it at Tom’s gut with a quick and well-practiced move. Despite Tom’s size he was surprisingly agile. Stepping to the left in an instant, he jammed his attacker’s arm holding the knife against the side of the yacht. Putting his entire hundred and fifty pounds of force behind it, he watched the man grimace in pain.

  “Sam!” Tom yelled. “I might need a little help down here!”

  The man recovered quickly. Unable to move his armed hand away from where Tom had pinned it, he kicked Tom directly behind his right knee. The blow landed on Tom’s wounded leg, sending a sharp pain behind his knee and thigh as though he’d been shot.

  An instant later, the man changed the direction of his efforts. Instead of trying to push Tom off, he twisted, and pulled.

  With the injury to his right leg, Tom was unprepared for the change in force, causing him to fall backward. He recovered in time to take a step backward, where he stepped off the back deck and fell into the water.

  Tom surfaced upright a second later. The yacht’s freeboard – the space between the waterline and the deck – was too high to reach. Instead he quickly swam across to the diving barge. He glanced backward, and spotted his attacker racing across the flotilla with Sam already running after him.

  He lost sight of the chase for a moment when several hands reached to pull him up aboard the barge. At last sight, the guy was leaping over the boat deck, headed for the seaplane at the end of the mooring. Sam was already on his way, climbing down from the top deck to continue the pursuit.

  As soon as he’d gained his feet, Tom started after them, gaining on them because of his long legs, but still limping with his injury. He was still yards behind when the guy reached the end.

  The guy scooped up the tethering rope to the seaplane and tugged it hard, then clambered in and started the motor. As soon as the propeller started turning, he moved the seaplane away from the barge, just before Sam caught up. Tom watched in disbelief as Sam smoothly dived into the water, swimming powerfully, and caught the back of the pontoon.

  Using the pontoon as leverage, Sam heaved himself from the water and climbed on, clinging to the struts and making his way to the cockpit. Tom shook his head, half in admiration, half in dismay. He stopped for a moment to orient himself, and then headed for Ridley’s pleasure cruiser. The tiny Robinson 22 helicopter looked like his only choice.

  Ridley looked out at Sam climbing onboard the back of the seaplane’s pontoon as its pilot circled around, ready for takeoff. “What the hell does he think he’s doing? This time he’s definitely going to get himself killed.”

  The de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter was a single engine, propeller driven seaplane. With its high wing, and high power to weight ratio, it was designed for short take-offs and landings. Its single propeller whined loudly, and the aircraft started to skip along the still water of the Great Blue Hole until it built up enough speed to break the confines of gravity. It was setting up on a direct approach to the flotilla.

  Ridley looked at him, his mouth wide open. “What the hell is the pilot trying to do?”

  Tom yelled, “Duck!”

  The aircraft took off right over their heads. Tom and Ridley instinctively dropped to the floor as the pilot banked sharply to avoid the collision.

  Tom stood up and moved toward the Robinson 22. “Is your helicopter fueled?”

  “Of course, it’s bloody well fueled and ready to fly. Why?”

  “I need to borrow it.”

  Ridley shrugged, as though the three hundred-thousand-dollar helicopter was a trivial possession. “Sure. What are you going to do?”

  Tom grinned, and called over his shoulder. “What I always have to do. Make sure my mate doesn’t get himself killed in the process of being a hero.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter was designed to carry ten passengers and one pilot to remote areas where other aircraft simply couldn’t reach. This one had been upgraded with a STOL kit that allowed a short take-off and landing, by modifying the wing with a contoured leading edge and drooped wingtips for increased performance. Without it, Sam doubted the floatplane would have gotten off the water within the Great Blue Hole.

  The narrow and robust aluminum fuselage was connected to two slender floats by a total of six struts – joined by three on each side – and a single boarding ladder that led to the rear hatch. There was also a forward hatch next to the pilot, but no ladder, which made it impossible to reach while the aircraft was moving.

  Sam gripped the side of the ladder until the whites of his knuckles shined bright. He breathed
heavily, and his heart pounded in his chest. And like a child who’d climbed the highest tree only to realize the inherent dangers, Sam glanced down at the water racing by and swallowed hard.

  What have I just done?

  He planted his feet hard on the slender float below.

  The floatplane banked heavily to the left. The pilot’s movement was more of a swift jerking motion than a controlled maneuver. Sam’s weight instantly shifted with it, and the soles of his wet bare feet slipped off the pontoon.

  Sam’s legs fell into the open void and his hands slipped, falling to the second rung of the ladder. The wind rushed over him, trying to drag him away with it. The pilot straightened the floatplane and its 450-kW Pratt & Whitney R-1340 geared radial engine grunted as they started to climb.

  Sam gritted his teeth and in one quick motion pulled himself up onto the pontoon again. He crossed his legs around the boarding ladder and entangled an arm through a rung so that his elbow formed a permanent lock, while his other hand gripped the edge of the ladder. He breathed heavily again catching his breath.

  He shot a glance at the water. It was more than fifty feet below now – much too far to jump, even if he had wanted to. He returned his attention directly above, and his eyes trailed the row of windows along the fuselage. Except for his would-be-assassin, who was piloting the floatplane, the aircraft was empty.

  That meant the pilot would have trouble defending himself, but also presented the problem of how to incapacitate the man without crashing the de Havilland in the process. Either way, he needed to come up with a solution before the pilot reached the mainland, where, chances were, his attacker would have reinforcements.

  Sam climbed the four rungs up the ladder. His right hand reached the cabin door and tried to turn the handle. It didn’t budge. His luck had run out. The door was locked, and he was fresh out of keys. Or anything else to force the door.