The Collectors Book Five (The Collectors Series 5) (11 page)

              There was a brief uneasy silence. “My dad wanted a boy and named me Roberta. I hated it and when I joined the army someone called me Blonde Bob and it stuck.”

              “You were in the army?”

              “Don’t sound so surprised, old man. One of their top pilots until I fucked up in Iraq. They gave me a choice, courts marshal or resign my commission.”

              Zane nodded his understanding. “We all make mistakes and have to live with the consequences.”

              “I didn’t make a mistake but some high ranking wanker fucked up and dropped me in the shit. Keep me on target, old man.”

              “You’re going in the right direction but I have never seen the location from the air.” His voice revealed a hint of uncertainty.

              “Bear, I fly this thing for two hours in one direction then I return for fuel. What are we supposed to be looking for?”

              “A seventy year old rail track concealed by a ton of foliage.”

              “Descend,” shouted Zane.

              “Do you want me to land or simply fly at ground level?”

              “Land and let me get my bearings.”

              “Anywhere in particular?”

              Zane pointed to the remains of an abandoned stone farmhouse. “At the front of that building or as near as you can get.”

              “Bear, you’re my eyes. I intend to land on the hunk of grey stone to the right of the ruin.”

              Bob checked the wind direction and with Bear giving instructions settled the chopper on top of the boulder.

              Zane peered left and right. “We are close to the gorge, I’m certain.” He pointed. “Fly towards those trees.”

              The noise of the engine increased and they lifted into the air.

              “There’s the gorge,” shouted Zane. “The old track wound around the mountains. There should be what remains of a bridge to our left.”

              Bob banked the chopper and followed the contour of the mountain.

              “One bent and twisted bridge, old man.”

              “Now go in the other direction and look for a suitable landing site.”

              “Trees and more trees,” said Bob.

              “To the right,” said Petros.

              “Hey, hawk eye’s right.” The Eurocopter flew straight towards the mountain and hovered over a blackened area. “Should be okay. Bear, Petros, keep your eyes open for anything. I’m going to land.”

              Both men positioned themselves and studied the ground beneath them.

              “Looks good,” said Bear.

              “I second that,” said Petros.

              With faultless control Bob descended until her eyes told her all was clear. The wheels touched, she breathed deeply, switched the engine off and jumped out. With long strides she orbited the craft, tripped, and fell to the ground. She stood, brushed the rubbish from her clothes, and beckoned to Petros and Bear. She pointed to a pair of rust-covered tracks. “Found your railway.”

              Zane joined them. “Now we walk.”

              “You walk,” said Bob. “I’m staying with the chopper.”

              Petros nodded. “Zane, how far?”

              He hesitated before speaking. “It’s many years since I was here. I’ll be honest, I don’t know.”

              Petros scanned the way ahead. “Bob.” She stopped what she was doing.

              “I intend to return one hour before sunset. If we’re not back, you fly to Florina and collect us in the morning.”

              “I can fly in the dark.”

              “Never said you couldn’t but a double bed is better than sleeping rough. You could even get lucky.”

              Bob gave out a dirty laugh. “Good thinking.”

              Bear handed Petros one rucksack and shouldered the other. “We’re wasting time. Zane, you lead and we’ll follow.”

              They walked in line through long dead grass and trees. The surface of the old railway track and the remnants of metal ties and plates gave assurance.

              Three hours later Zane stopped. Petros and Bear joined him.

              Bear placed his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “You okay?”

              He pointed. “Up there is where my grandfather waited when the earthquake struck. I recognise the overhang where he sheltered.”

              Bear dropped his rucksack, walked a short distance and returned. “Makes sense, we have a gorge over there, flat surface and a mountain. Ahead the slope into the gorge indicates a shift of earth and rocks. Under there might be a train and a tunnel. The odds aren’t high that anything survived.”

              “Suggestions?” said Petros.

              “Let Zane rest, while we complete a recon.”

              Without their rucksacks, Petros and Bear clambered up the shallow incline checking as they went. An hour elapsed before they stopped and rested.

              “Nothing,” said Bear

              “Ditto. This, from what Zane described, was the exit from the tunnel. How about we climb to the top, drop down, and find the entrance?”

              Bear’s eyes wandered over the steep hillside. “Might as well give it a try, providing this lot doesn’t move.”

              “The weather, grass and tree roots should have tied it together. Come on, shift your fat arse.”

              With caution, they tested every foot and handhold before they ascended. They rested in an area of sparse variation.

              “This hasn’t moved in donkeys’,” said Bear. “The fault line and slide are over there. If it didn’t collapse, the tunnel’s under our feet”

              “Might as well find where the entrance should be before we go back.”

              “Seeing as we’re here, why not? Then you can tell Zane the truth; his tunnel’s gone.”

              “One step at a time. I’d rather not fall into any large holes.”

              “Small ones will twist or break an ankle,” said Bear.

              “Thanks a bunch, I didn’t know that.”

              “Just watch your step.”

              The shrubbery as they descended a slight slope changed to woodland along with a vast canopy, which filtered the sunlight.

              “Shit,” shouted Bear as his foot caught on a root and he tumbled headlong. Thorny bushes tore at his clothes and face as he rolled into a narrow channel.

              “Where are you?” shouted Petros.

              “Follow my voice but mind those damned roots.”

              In the middle of a mass of long grass and scrub he found him. “Sat on your fat arse as usual.”

              “Okay, smarty knickers. Take a gander at this.” He pointed to a crevasse. “Another metre or so and goodbye cruel world.”

              “Are you thinking the same as me?”

              “Yeah, but not today. We need the proper gear before we enter this black hole.”

              Petros shook his head. “Naturally, but we need a marker.”

              “A pile of stones to identify the spot.”

              They rummaged around and built a tall cairn. Bear stripped a long branch and shoved it in the centre.

              “Small piles marking our return route will make it easier tomorrow,” said Bear.

              As they descended to the old track insignificant piles of stones indicated their route.

                The rattle of stones woke Zane from his sleep. “Did you find anything?”

              “Not Sure,” said Petros. “We discovered a large crack in the rock. Tomorrow and with the right gear we’ll check it out.”

              They picked up their rucksacks and returned to where Bob waited.

              “Any luck?”

              “Maybe,” said Bear. “We wasted six hours today walking. Can you get this chopper any closer?”

              “Let’s have a look.” With the pre-flight checks completed she started the engine. “I’ll fly along the ravine and you lot can scan the area for an empty parking spot. I’ll tell you if it’s feasible.”

              Bob lifted the chopper, drifted into the centre of the gorge and hovered. “As far as I can see, far too many trees.”

              “There’s the landslip,” said Bear. He chuckled. “It took us three hours to walk and fifteen minutes to fly. Bob, go higher there’s a flat area further up.”

              With a gentle caress of the controls, the craft rose up the side of the mountain. “I can see where you mean. I’ll take a gander.”

              The Eurocopter hovered at twenty metres and in stages descended. The two inboard wheels touched the grass and stone-covered slope.

              “I prefer to land on the level. Bear, Petros, jump out and position large rocks under my outboard wheels. If I’m happy I land, if not, tomorrow you jump and I’ll return later.”

              The two men opened the door and slid to the ground. With their heads low they scrambled clear from the down draught and began to lift and tumble largish rocks. On finding what appeared suitable, they lifted and placed one slab in position. Finding and locating the second took time.

              Both men stood at a safe distance and noticed the pure concentration on Bob’s face as the craft hovered. Zane pointed when Bear gave the thumbs up.

              The wheels touched earth, the inboard nestled into the ground and the outboard on solid rock.

              The searchlight flashed and Zane motioned to Bear and Petros to return.

              Heads low they were inside the craft in seconds.

              “What do you reckon?” asked Petros.

              “I can drop you and any gear but the ground’s unstable. Get yourselves a radio to contact me when you want me to pick you up.”

              “Let’s go home,” said Bear, “I’m starving.”

              “You haven’t changed.” The chopper rose into the sky, climbing so fast that Petros gripped the armrests and closed his eyes. It banked unexpectedly and headed for Florina.

Chapter Five

“What’s the plan?” asked Bear as he shovelled a forkful of toast and scrambled egg into his mouth. After removing a few crumbs from his lips with a paper napkin, he belched.

              Petros sipped his fresh orange juice. “Do you have to do that?”

              “Sign of good food.”

              “If you say so. Anyway, Zane’s in town borrowing two search and rescue radios. Bob, I hope, is refuelling the chopper. You and I wait until they arrive and then we return to the crevasse.”

              “I reckon the tunnel will be there but not a lot else. After seventy years, whoever died in there will have decomposed. A few brittle bones and bits of clothing but not a lot more.”

              “Trains rust and rot,” said Petros. “With luck the artefacts will have been well wrapped and in crates.”

              Bear smothered a fresh roll with butter and marmalade. “What remains isn’t our problem. Zane informs the authorities and we return to Cyprus.”

              “I hear Bob.”

              Bear devoured his roll, grabbed four meat pies, enclosed them in a napkin, and shoved the package into his rucksack. “Behind you.”

              They ran at the double to the end of town where Bob and Zane waited. Heads low they clambered into the rear seats of the Eurocopter. As their safety belts clicked, they were on the move. Bob activated the sat-nav control and flew directly to the drop-off point.

              “Much better than walking,” said Bear.

              “Uses less fuel,” said Bob. “Arm and a leg job to top this thing up.”

              Petros grimaced. “I don’t want to know.”

              Over the intercom Bob spoke. “Don’t forget the radio check.”

              “No problem,” said Bear. “I’ve no intention of walking for three hours.”

              Within thirty minutes, the chopper descended and hovered one metre over the ground.

              “I pray you find something,” said Zane.

              With their rucksacks slung over their arms, Petros and Bear jumped.

              Bob waved, climbed to a hundred metres and flew back along the ravine while completing a radio check. “Hear you loud and clear. Don’t get into trouble. See you later.”

              “Out,” said Bear as they climbed to the crevasse.

              Petros scanned the locale. “We need a couple of solid anchors.”

              Bear looked around. “Those trees will do. I’ll use two with a safety line to a third.”

              Petros peered into the dark of the crevasse. “What are your thoughts on the rock formations?”

              “A mixture of limestone, granite, and soft sandstone. With luck, we can descend and return without too much hassle. Better take the gear, just in case. These search and rescue teams use great rope, this is Mamut Infinitive, expensive.”

              Bear secured three lines while Petros prepared the ropes with a figure of eight, a piece of polished steel, with two rings at either end. Finished, he tossed coils of rope into the hole.

              Both men stared into the void, nodded and with Bear first, began a controlled descent. The daylight from above gave sufficient light.

              “It’s narrowing,” said Bear.

              Petros dropped a stone and mentally timed its descent. “Three seconds plus, twenty five metres, give or take.”

              Bear shone his headlamp and dropped through the more spacious fissure until he bellowed, “I’m entering a cavern. Going in. Hey, PK, Zane was right. There is a train.”

              “Bear, how’s the air?”

              “I’m still breathing.”

              Petros dropped to the ground seconds later.

              The beams from their twin headlamps penetrated the dark, strange eerie space. They strolled on, their lights illuminating the bones of those trapped by the avalanche. The remains of ragged clothing clung to the dead. Bear stepped back and a brittle skeleton turned to powder under his foot.