The Sam Reilly Collection Volume 3

by Christopher Cartwright

  “I was angry. In the course of a single week I’d lost my entire family. We weren’t local to Oymyakon. My father had moved us there only the year before to be closer to work, but we were outsiders and never really belonged within the close-knit community.”

  “And you wanted revenge?”

  “Yes. Stupidly, I assumed that if I became a leading geologist I could ruin Botkin.”

  “You planned your revenge nearly a lifetime ago?”

  “Sure. It was a crazy idea and by the time I finished my first degree and then moved to the U.S. to study my doctorate at Harvard I’d lost all interest in revenge and turned my efforts toward volcanology.”

  The helicopter banked to the left, dipped its nose and ran along the Yana River. “What changed?”

  Demyan sighed, as though serendipity was hard to swallow. “I watched the BBC.”

  “Come again?”

  “About ten years ago the BBC did a program on the Batagaika Crater, a tadpole shaped thermokarsk of melting permafrost in eastern Siberia, for the Discovery Channel. In the recording there were a few people from one of the local villages, searching the base of the crater searching for ice-age fossils to sell to interested archeologists. It was extremely dangerous work because of the constantly shifting and collapsing nature of the landscape. As it was, I happened to spot my father among the scavenges.”

  Sam’s lips curled in an upward and incredulous smile. “You recognized him from a nature show?”

  “Yeah. I had to contact the network and buy a copy just to get a better look, but it was definitely my father.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I flew out meet him straight away.”

  “How did that go?” Sam asked, intrigued.

  “He was in complete denial. He didn’t recognize me. Told me his sons had died years ago.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “Yeah, it was devastating. I kept coming back to the Batagaika Crater to talk to my father. Some days he would talk, other times he would ignore me completely. Sometimes he would assume I was the ghost of his lost son and he would tell me things. That’s how I learned about the colony and what Leo Botkin had done.”

  “I bet that stirred up some old wounds.”

  “Yes. The desire for revenge raged like it had never done before. I thought about killing Botkin, but it was too easy. Instead, I needed him to suffer. I needed to ruin him. I needed to bankrupt him until he was destitute living on the street. Then and only then would I come to him, and let him know that I was the cause of all of his misfortune.”

  “How did you set about doing that?” Sam asked with genuine curiosity.

  “I studied with a man who worked on high frequency microwaves for the HAARP project. Have you heard of it?”

  Sam nodded. “The High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program was initiated as an ionospheric research grant to investigate the potential for developing ionospheric enhancement technology for radio communications and surveillance.” He grinned. “But the conspiracy theorists all assumed it was related to mind and weather control.”

  Demyan nodded. “Right. Mind control through microwaves was nothing more than science fiction, but weather control was conceivably possible – if the UN hadn’t expressly sanctioned against such research.”

  “I was told some of the intellectual property was sold,” Sam said.

  “And I was the one who bought it.”

  “Why?”

  “My friend failed because he lost funding for his specific research at HAARP. Out of a job, he approached me for another possibility. I used my knowledge of geology and high pressures alongside his microwave technologies to produce high quality, undetectable, synthetic diamonds.”

  The Ka-32A11BC helicopter circled a small village. Its pilot picked out a landing site, hovered, and gently set down on a small field of frozen soil. The pilots switched the engines off, and the alternating rotor blades began to slow.

  “It was you that set about to crash the diamond markets?” Sam asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And destroyed Botkin’s property?”

  “Yes. He’s been suffering a long run of bad luck for nearly two years now. But he’s always been protected. He’s too big, to rich, and too well insured for me to cause any lasting damage – until now.”

  “Until now,” Sam repeated. “If we do this, it will destroy everything Leo Botkin has worked on for more than twenty years!”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Sam followed Demyan along the unsealed road into the village of Ese-Khayya and up to a log-piled house at the edge of a gently sloping hill. It was dark and both needed flashlights just to follow the road. The darkness was less unusual in this part of the world, given that it was early winter.

  Demyan knocked loudly several times until a man came to the door. A combination of urine, feces and continuous rot wafted from inside. The stranger was unkept and obviously malnourished. He walked with a significant limp, due to what appeared to be a once massively crushed lower leg.

  “Sam Reilly, meet my dad, Anotoly Yezhov.”

  Sam offered his outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Yezhov rejected it. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “He’s a friend and he needs your help.”

  “I don’t have any help to give anyone.” Yezhov threw his hands downward, in frustration. “Can’t you see, I can’t even look after myself!”

  Demyan glanced at the putrid mess from inside the house. “I thought I told you to get some help?”

  The old man held his palm outward in a placating gesture. “With what? I’ve got no money!”

  “Dad!” Demyan shook his head. “I gave you one of the best diamonds in the world what did you do with it?”

  Through heavily aged creases, Yezhov studied Demyan. “That was you, was it?”

  “Yes. What did you do with the diamond? That was supposed to let you live out your old age in comfort and peace. Away from all this cold and hardship.”

  “I gave it away.”

  “You gave it away?” Demyan sighed heavily. “Dad, that was a hundred-million-dollar diamond!”

  “I didn’t want it.”

  “But you can’t live like this.”

  “Did you ever stop and question if maybe I liked the cold and all this hardship. I deserve it, you know. I might as well have killed my entire family.”

  “No, you didn’t dad. You were just trying to do what you could to provide for your family. That was all. I’m still alive.”

  Yezhov studied Demyan’s face. “Your eyes are the same. I’ll give you that. But you’re not the same man I left all those years ago. Demyan’s dead. He drowned in Boot Lake along with his brother, and there’s nothing I can do about that except repent. You want to help me? Let’s have a drink.”

  Demyan nodded and followed him inside. This was where he’d gotten to a hundred times since he’d found his father still alive. He would have intermittent periods of lucidity, followed by the utter gibberish of a confused old man. But when they drank vodka, his father would treat him as a drinking buddy and no longer a stranger. His dad had always been an alcoholic. Even in Oymyakon, their family were outcasts, because of the violent way his father became when he started drinking – and he drank every day.

  Yezhov poured all three of them a shot of vodka.

  Sam looked at the glasses and said, “None for me…”

  Yezhov handed him a shot. “Drink!”

  Sam glanced at Demyan, who gestured that it was the easiest way to deal with this. Sam raised the shot up to his lips. It burned for a second and then he downed the entire thing. It tasted like something that should be used on a jet engine and for a moment he wondered if he’d done permanent damage, despite the fact that the two Yezhov men had consumed the same thing and appeared unfazed.

  “Another one?” Yezhov asked, filling all three glasses.

  “Dad,” Demyan said. “We need to talk about the blueprin
ts.”

  “What blueprints?” Yezhov drank all three glasses.

  Sam said, “The ones for the secret tunnels you built to the ancient catacombs beneath Boot Lake, in Oymyakon.”

  Yezhov paused, carefully studying Sam’s face. “Who are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Secret tunnels. I know about no such thing.”

  “Dad. We need the blueprints. It’s important. We have to get inside.”

  “Inside?” Yezhov’s eyes were now wide. “No one goes inside anymore. Thousands of people once entered those tunnels, but no one’s ever come out again.”

  “All the same, we need to find those tunnels.”

  Yezhov poured another drink. “What tunnels.”

  Sam said, “Sir, we need your help to go back there. The entire world is counting on your help.”

  Yezhov shrugged. “And why should I help the world out? It never done nothing for me!”

  Demyan downed another shot of vodka and then looked at his father directly in his eyes. “Because we want to kill Leo Botkin.”

  Yezhov’s eyes went livid. He no longer appeared disoriented when he spoke. “That I can help you.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Pidurangala’s Temple

  Elise switched on her flashlight and shined its beam at the hidden stairway.

  “Do you know where they lead?” she asked the monk.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “All right.” Elise sighed, theatrically, and then commenced her descent.

  The stairs descended in a large, square spiral that continued for what appeared to be hundreds of feet. The monk slowly followed her.

  At the bottom, the stairs turned into a long tunnel that headed due south.

  “We’re going to Sigiriya?” she asked.

  The monk nodded. “I told you the Lion’s Rock was always our home.”

  The tunnel stretched a little over a mile and opened into a labyrinth of ancient catacombs. Recalling the Master Builder’s proclivity toward symmetry and central power structures, Elise continued to take turns that led her to the very center.

  It opened up to a large, rectangular vault.

  At the center of which was a sarcophagus fit for a king, or in this case, a queen.

  Overlooking the ancient queen’s chamber was a beautiful fresco. The painting looked similar to the ones depicted above the Mirror Wall at Sigiriya and possibly more than a thousand years old. Away from all weather, it was in a much better condition, too.

  She studied the painting.

  It depicted a beautiful woman, with a high jaw-line, gentle features, silky black hair and intense purple eyes, that were fixed upon the queen’s tomb. In her arms was a baby. There was something familiar about the baby.

  Elise stared at it for a while. It evoked memories that were so distant that she couldn’t be sure they were even hers. The baby’s eyes were open.

  And they were a deep purple.

  Elise turned to the monk. “Is the sarcophagus…”

  “Empty?” The monk replied. “Yes.”

  She felt her heart race. “Then my mother’s still alive?”

  The monk sighed, deeply. “That, I no longer know.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  The Ancient Catacombs of Oymyakon

  Sam glanced out the windows to the left. The helicopter circled the large geothermal power station’s cooling tower and the remains of a rocky outcrop at the center of Boot Lake, where the old Stalin-era prison and death camp rose out of the water. The place appeared deserted and according to Anotoly Yezhov, no one had entered or exited the building for more than twenty years.

  The helicopter continued north, before dipping its nose and finally settling into a hover just above a field of ice. Anotoly’s eyes were wide. In the hours since Sam had met the man, he had come alive, losing decades of age and returning to the strength and vitality of his youth. Revenge, Sam discovered, was a powerful motivator.

  He met the old man’s eye. “Are you certain no one’s going to notice the helicopter?”

  “Not at all. The volcanic vault is a quarter of a mile deep. They don’t know and even if they did, they wouldn’t care. I doubt any of them even realize the old ventilation shafts still reach deep into the ancient catacombs below.”

  Demyan entered the conversation. “What about lake?”

  “You mean the colorful crystals?” Anotoly asked.

  Sam asked, “The lake has colorful crystals?”

  Anotoly nodded. “Yeah. They’re a type of coral found at the bottom of the Maria Trench. They feed of the geothermal energy and then release UV light. Leo Botkin spent a fortune manned submarines to retrieve them from around the world.”

  “Why?” Demyan asked.

  “Plants and animals need UV light.”

  “Can’t they produce it with electricity?” Sam asked.

  “Sure, but it draws enormous amounts. You have to remember the colony was designed to survive long after the world as you and I know it has disappeared. At best, this ice-age will last a century, but it may last millennia. Botkin wanted to set up a fully sustainable environment underground and that included producing natural UV light.”

  The helicopter’s rotor blades came to a complete stop.

  Sam looked at Anotoly. “You sure you want to come with us?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’d rather die than miss it.”

  Sam guessed there was a good chance, the man would die today if he did come, so the severity of that statement wasn’t missed on him. Even so, they needed the old man’s knowledge and he certainly wasn’t going to be dismissing any help he could get.

  “All right. Good to have you with us.”

  “What about a gun?” Anotoly asked.

  They were all carrying Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns.

  Sam smiled politely. He was indebted to the old man for his blueprints of the colony and the ancient catacombs, but he would be damned before he gave a loaded submachine gun to a man with more than a bottle of vodka on board. “I think we’re all out of them.”

  “What am I supposed to kill Botkin with?”

  “When we get around to it, I lend you my knife,” Demyan said. “More personal that way, don’t you think?”

  “Right you are, son.”

  Sam opened the helicopter’s sliding door. Using GPS, he located the site of the main ventilation shaft that ran down to the catacombs far below. He cleared away the snow. Below it, ice was thick.

  “The thing’s frozen over!” Sam shouted at Antonoly.

  “Yeah, I thought that might be the case.”

  Tom said, “What good is a ventilation shaft when its frozen shut?”

  Antonoly shook his head. “No good. But it was only needed while we were working. By now Botkin will have his ecosystem balanced so an equal amount of oxygen is produced and carbon-dioxide is removed.”

  “Then how do we get in?” Sam asked.

  “We dig.” Demyan carried out a large steel pole with a sharp point on the end. “We used to do this for hours when we were ice fishing as kids.”

  “That’s great,” Sam said. “We might not have hours. How deep do you think this ice is?”

  Anotoly and Demyan studied the ice, with the experience of a lifetime living with constant ice.

  Demyan spoke first, “Maybe five feet.”

  “Probably closer to ten,” Anotoly replied.

  “How long will it take you to chisel your way through it?” Sam asked.

  Demyan replied without hesitation. “Under twenty-four hours if we work constantly.”

  Sam didn’t even acknowledge the statement. Instead he walked back to the helicopter, removed a heavy backpack and returned to the ice.

  He laid out several rows of dynamite. “New plan. We’re going to blow it up.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  The dynamite was imbedded into the ice before being lit. Sam watched as the explosion sent a p
ile of snow and ice fifty feet into the air. The surrounding ground shook violently.

  “What do you think?” he asked Anotoly.

  The old man shrugged. “They might have heard that.”

  “All right let’s go then.”

  Harnessed to a safety line attached to the helicopter, Sam approached the new opening. The ice, including the steel grid that protected the shaft had all disappeared.

  Anatoly and Demyan checked the strength of the surrounding ice and agreed it would still support the helicopter.

  Demyan made a signal to the pilot and he went through the process of warming up the rotor blades and moving the hundred or so feet to land directly opposite the opening to the ventilation shaft.

  Sam looked inside again. “How deep did you say this thing goes?”

  “A little over fifteen hundred feet. Deep enough that it passes the main volcanic chamber where the colony exists, and enters the ancient catacombs a farther hundred and fifty feet below.”

  Sam looked at the rescue winch built into the side of the helicopter. “You’re sure that thing will take it?”

  “Certain,” Anotoly said without hesitation.

  “What are you basing that on?” Sam asked.

  “Just a hunch.”

  Demyan stepped in. “It’s all right. The helicopters have these winches fitted specifically for mine rescues in the deep diamond mines near Yakutsk. I had it checked out. The winch and cable will take two of us at a time.”

  Sam didn’t trust it for a minute, but that didn’t matter. The fact was, it was their last chance at survival, so they needed to take it. “All right.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Sam and Tom were the first to make the descent.

  Harnessed to the same line, the winch began to unwind. The machine was operated on board the helicopter, but the end of the cable had a camera attached, so the operator could see where they were and how close they were to the ground.

  It became dark quickly and Sam switched on his flashlight. Above them, the last of the ambient light from the opening had finally disappeared.

  Tom said, “You feel like this belongs on the set of Silence of the Lambs?”