The Last Airship (12 page)

Mathematically,
the equation appeared simple.

To
a father, the mathematics were irrelevant. 

He
considered killing himself. Some part of him wished that he’d simply have a
fatal heart attack or some other form of death over which he had no control. He
knew that if he died, he’d fail to complete his obligation, and, as a result,
his daughter would die, so killing himself wasn’t an option.

No,
he would go through with it, as he’d agreed to do all those years ago.

John
Wolfgang leaned back in his lounge chair, staring out the window of his Lear
Jet, more than forty thousand feet above the earth, over whose very existence
he held so much power.

It
went all the way back to the start of the Second World War.  

To
a story that he’d heard from his father many times during his childhood, as the
only child of a poor family living in post-war Germany.

Walter
Wolfgang, John’s father, had been a promising young microbiologist, who had
been pursuing a PhD in viral adaptations to change. His supervisor, Professor
Fritz Ribbentrop, immediately saw the promise of such research, and its
potential danger to humanity.

Walter
had worked hard for three years on his project before discovering the strange
mutation. It had been well established that viruses, such as influenza,
naturally mutated, from time to time, often becoming more easily transmittable.
The virus’s undesired result of some of these mutations might often result in
the death of the host.

In
theory, a virus wants to be symbiotic – living on or within a host organism,
without draining its host of its strength and vitality. 

Often,
these changes occur every decade or so, to keep up with their host’s immune
system, which is constantly adapting to better protect itself from the virus.
Every now and then, something strange happens, and the new viral strain leaps
ahead of its hosts ability to protect itself, perhaps jumping ahead by two or
three decades worth of random mutations, and becoming stronger than the hosts
natural immune system.

One
such strain that springs to the mind of any microbiologist is the Influenza
H1N1 – AKA, the Spanish Flu pandemic, which occurred in the early twentieth
century, which decimated more lives worldwide than the First World War. This
type of event generally occurs only every couple of centuries, or so.

What
Walter discovered, while attempting to speed up the rate of viral mutations in
a controlled environment, was the genesis of a strain of influenza which had
made several hundred steps towards evolution. The type of anomaly that would
only occur once every couple of millennia, under normal circumstances.

It
had evolved such that the longer it remained undetected, the safer it would be,
and therefore, the greater would be its chance of propagating. In one study,
Walter learned that its host would not display any symptoms whatsoever for an
entire month after infection, and then result in an astonishing 80% mortality
rate.

The
implications of such a prolonged incubation period in a virus with such a
phenomenal mortality rate were immediately obvious to him. 

It
could wipe out 80% of the planet’s population.

He
brought this discovery to the attention of his mentor and friend, Professor
Fritz Ribbentrop.

Walter’s
original thought was that he should destroy it immediately, but Ribbentrop had
a different viewpoint. What would happen if this anomaly occurred naturally at
some time in the future? Could their investigations now possibly save the
entire planet from what might prove to be the worst plague ever faced by
mankind in recorded history, at some future date?

In
the minds of scientists, who had no loyalties to either good or bad, but only
wanted to further man’s knowledge, such a discovery could only be viewed as a
good thing.

The
next day, the riots began and ended with the raids on Jewish families, heralding
the rise of Hitler’s Third Reich and start of World War Two.

Professor
Fritz Ribbentrop was the first to point out what these events might mean for
their discovery. “Do you understand the consequences of your discovery, given that
the world is about to be plunged into the depths of a war?”

“I
will have to put my experiments on hold so that we can work towards the
Fuhrer’s goals for Germany.”

“No,
it is far more sinister than that.”

“It
is?” At such a young age, Walter failed to understand the harsh realities of
where the world was headed.

“You
must now decide. On one hand, you have the key, which will almost certainly
provide the Fuhrer with the means to win this war, but on the other hand, in so
doing you may end up destroying more lives than would be lost in a hundred
years of fighting.”

“Is
that really the right question to ask?” Walter, even in his idealistic youth,
was not wholly immune to the loyalty and might of the Fascist movement.

Professor
Ribbentrop watched him carefully, without betraying his hand. “Go on son, what
would be the right question to ask?”

“How
can we protect our own troops from this virus?”

“Yes,
of course,” the Professor continued. Only the slightest hint of hesitation
could be detected in his voice. “Prepare your viruses. Tomorrow, we start
developing a vaccine. Collect your notes, and I will send them on to the Fuhrer
himself. He would want to be personally informed of a matter of such this
importance.”

John
made a copy for himself, and then sent his original notes to Professor
Ribbentrop, who had assured him that he would personally bring them to the
attention of the Fuhrer.

Two
weeks passed, yet Walter had still not received any message from the Fuhrer.

He
talked to Professor Fritz Ribbentrop about it, but the man seemed undeterred,
and reminded Walter that the Fuhrer was a very busy man.

At
first, Walter assumed that it was their academic professionalism which was
causing the friction, but as time went by, he started to doubt Fritz’s loyalty.
The problem was, he had no idea how to create a vaccination against the horrid
virus. Fritz was possibly the only man alive who had the ability to develop it.
Besides, it was ridiculous of him to question Fritz’s loyalty. The two of them
were ardent supporters of the Third Reich, and Fritz specifically had supported
and was a strong ally of his friend, Adolf Hitler.

At
the end of the two weeks, Walter decided to send a secret letter to the Fuhrer,
containing his findings and their potential in the field of biological warfare.

The
next day, Walter was picked up by the SS Police, who took him to a secret
location, where Adolf Hitler himself
greeted him warmly. Hitler
reassured him of Fritz’s loyalty, but pointed out that a matter of such great
importance required redundancies to ensure that the plan came to fruition. The
Fuhrer also reminded Walter that he was counting on him to make sure that Fritz
maintained the undying loyalty he had always displayed to Germany.

Two
weeks after that, Professor Fritz Ribbentrop disappeared.

All
traces of the virus with him.

When
the Gestapo told Walter that Professor Ribbentrop had boarded an airship and
escaped, he was certain that Germany would now lose the war.

As
a punishment for this failure, he was conscripted and given the rank of private
in the infantry.

It
was a death sentence, and a total waste of an intellect such as his, which
could have been put to better use in so many other war efforts.

Despite
the punishment, Walter remained true to the regime’s core values, proudly
believing that he was doing his part to win the war for Germany.

Despite
the highly improbable chances of his survival, Walter did succeed in living
through the war, but, unfortunately, a remaining high-ranking official leaked
the information that Walter’s mistake had resulted in Germany losing the war.

In
the starving depression of postwar Germany, Walter was treated with contempt,
and he was unable to gain employment as anything better than a common street
cleaner. His wonderful mind was utterly wasted for the second time by Germany’s
remaining leaders.

In
spite of everything that had befallen him, Walter married a woman in 1950,
named Alda. Notwithstanding living in socialist Eastern Germany, and although
they were both poor and famished, the two were happy, and their son, John was
born in 1952.

Despite
it being a new world, many members of the East German leadership still blamed
Walter for his part in the loss of their pre-war living standards. He found it
hard to get a job, and harder still to keep one. In 1962, when John was age 10,
his mother died during a particularly bad winter.

John
asked the question that his father had been dreading.

“Why
are we hated so?”

Walter
then told him the story about the missing Magdalena, which he discovered had
never made it to her destination in Switzerland. He explained that if they
could just find the Magdalena, he could forever change the course of their
lives.

In
1961, East Germany had become so frustrated by the mass exodus of its citizens
to the west, they erected a wall between the two in order to prevent people
from fleeing into West Berlin. Walter became infatuated with the dream of
discovering the resting place of the Magdalena, and consequently, the virus,
which he still saw as being the source of all of his misfortune.

John,
on the other hand
,
excelled at all his studies and dreamed of becoming a
scientist someday. He ended up working at Humboldt University. It was the one
bit of good luck the family had had since Walter discovered the virus.

When
the Berlin Wall came down on the 9
^th
of November, 1989
,
John
was 38 years old, and had become one of the leading microbiologists in the
world, with little chance of achieving any financial security.

He
wanted, more than anything, to rekindle his father’s pharmaceutical company,
but it would be another five years before he was given the opportunity to do
so.

In
1994, five years after the Berlin Wall came crashing down, a man approached
John. He appeared to be of Mediterranean descent, but he might just as easily have
been from England, based on how perfectly accented his English sounded. The man
offered him five million American dollars, a fortune, to support the
development of his pharmaceutical company on behalf of his client, if John
would be willing to help his boss find the Magdalena, and provide him with a
usable virus. His boss remained the legal owner of the company on secret
papers, but all profits were John’s to keep.

It
seemed so simple at the time.

A
deal with the devil, perhaps – but what a deal!

Why
not take the chance? If the Magdalena, and the virus she carried hadn’t been
discovered in 55 years, why would it be discovered in his lifetime?

Since
then, his business had exceeded his every dream. He was rich, he had married a
movie star, and they had produced a beautiful daughter. His wife had left him
once she’d extracted enough of his money, but she left him with his daughter,
so what did he care? His professional dreams were achieved when he won the
Nobel Prize.

He
never once heard from his benefactor.

There
was never a request for a dividend or repayment of any kind.

Until
a week ago, he had all but forgotten about his humble beginnings and about his
deal with the devil.

When
he was greeted by a much older man with olive skin and a pompous English accent,
he didn’t immediately recognize the man. It was his accent that sounded
completely out of place, which finally triggered his recollection. 

The
Lear Jet banked to the left, and John settled in for a landing, dragging him
out of his memories.

A
long time ago, he had indeed made a deal with the devil himself.

Might
a deal with another devil save me?

John
considered the question which he had turned over repeatedly in the past seven
days, and for the first time, reached an answer.

Yes.
But to do that, I’ll have to be the first to find it.

Sam
Reilly had discarded his Sea Scooter in the shrubbery and started the long,
painful walk into town. It had been years since he’d been to Shoal Haven. He
couldn’t quite remember how far it was to town, but he knew it wasn’t a long
drive.

Half
an hour later, the adrenaline rush had worn off, and he now realized just how
exhausted he felt as a white Jeep pulled over alongside him.

“You
want a ride?” It was the beautiful blonde girl from the beach.

“Sure
would. Thanks.”

“Where
are you headed?”

“Anywhere
in town would be nice.” He didn’t have much strength left for lies.

The
Beatles were playing in the background.

She
turned the radio volume down and said, “So, what’s your story? I mean, you
clearly weren’t out for a reef dive.”

She
had a mostly American accent with just the slightest hint of a European
background, which he couldn’t quite place. She’d probably studied at some
swanky Ivy League college and had spent years trying to eliminate her original accent.

“I
don’t know what you’re talking about?”

She
skidded her car to a stop.

“Listen
here. I’ve done some wreck diving myself over the years, and I’m not a bad skin
diver, but I’ve never seen someone dive wearing their normal clothing.” She
looked as though she might throw him out of her car. “And, for another thing,
where’s your dive gear? What’d you do with it… throw it away after you had your
one and only dive, or was it just too hard to carry home again after carrying
it all the way here without a car? You can tell me the truth or you can get out
of my car right now.”

Sam
considered stepping out of the car and walking away, but decided that he was
better off telling the truth to a complete stranger.

“I
was out sailing, and…”

Understanding
dawned in her eyes.

“So
you sunk?”

“Yes.”

“What?
Like for an insurance claim or something? Is that why you’re so secretive about
it?”

He
laughed out loud at the very idea.

“No,
insurance is the least of my worries. Actually, my boat has been sinking for a
number of hours, and I’ve been too embarrassed to do anything about it. I’m far
more concerned about what my father’s going to do when he hears that I was so
careless.”

“Jesus,
are you all right?” He thought he saw some sort of understanding in her eyes.
She’d been the recipient of enough prejudice from her own father.

“I’ll
be fine. Hey, do you mind if I use your phone?”

“Sure,
go for it.” She had a kind smile, Sam decided.

He
bent down to pick it up off the center console. Sam noticed that she hadn’t
bothered to change her clothes, and her long tanned legs could be seen in their
entirety. He struggled not to stare, sat up, and dialed the number.

“I’m
surprised you can still remember anyone’s phone number by heart.”

“This
guy’s been my best mate since I was a kid. His
is just about the only
phone number I’ve ever bothered to memorize.”

The
ring tone ended as someone picked up.

“Tom,
it’s me.”

“Hey
Sam, where are you? James is still pretty pissed that you refused to answer his
calls, given the whole Cyclone Petersham thing. You won’t believe what we did…”

Sam
cut him off short.

“Hey,
I’ll hear all about it soon. It’s a long story, but I need you to pick me up
from…” he looked at the beautiful woman sitting next to him who mimed the words
“Shoal Haven.”  I’m in Shoal Haven, he recited. I don’t have my phone, wallet
or anything else with me. Can you be here in about an hour? I’ve got a few
important things to do.”

“Sure,
I’ll bring the helicopter.”

“Good,
I’ll see you shortly. Thanks pal.”

He
handed the phone back to her. “Thanks for that…” He stopped short. “I’m so
sorry, I don’t even know your name. I’m Sam Reilly.” He said, shaking her hand.
It was firm, more like a man’s handshake than a woman’s, but without the intent
to prove who had the strongest grip. It was the handshake of someone who had
spent years doing business with men and treated them equally.

“Aliana,”
she said, and he noted that she’d withheld her surname.

She
had a beautiful smile, and he wished the drive into town was longer.

“Pleased
to meet you,” he said.

“Where’s
your friend coming from?”

“Who?”

“Your
best bud. The guy you just called, who’s just going to drop whatever it was he
was doing to come and pick you up?”

“Oh,
Tom? He’s in Sydney.”

“What,
and he’s going to get here in an hour? It’s about a four hour drive. I know, I
drove it just last week.”

 “Yeah,
well I told him he could take the company’s helicopter.”

“Your
company?” She sounded surprised.

“No,
I just manage a section of it,” he admitted.

“You
must be pretty important to the company if you have a helicopter to come pick
you up. What do you do?”

“I
work for a company called Global Shipping, but I manage only a very small part
of it, involved in Special Operations. We’re involved in some salvage stuff,
but mainly we work on consignment to various government agencies around the
world. We do outside investigations into water quality, environmental issues,
and stuff like that.”

“You
work on the ocean?” She asked, sounding surprised.

“Yep.”

“And
you just sank your own sailing yacht?”

“Yeah,
well… now you can see why I’m being so coy.” Although unaccustomed to it, Sam
feigned embarrassment as best he could.

She
shook her head in amazement.

About
five minutes later they arrived in the center of Shoal Haven. It was a little
coastal village with a coffee shop and a couple of cafes, which were the only
things open this early on a Sunday morning.

He
got out of the car and thanked her again.

She
was about to drive away when he stopped her.

“Say,
can I buy you a cup of coffee or something?” He smiled. It was a hopeful grin
and then he added, “My flight is still going to take a while to get here.”

“Do
you have any money on you? I thought you lost everything?” She said, her smile
teasing him.

“You’re
right. Can you buy me a coffee, and I’ll pay you back when my ride gets here?”

“Come
on.” She smiled back at him comfortably, like a girl who doesn’t normally get
involved in other people’s problems. “I’ll spot you.”

At
the end of the deck was a place called “Café de Pacific.” It had an outlook
over the ocean in the distance. They seated themselves and ordered, and Sam
asked for a large jug of water, which he drank down the second it arrived at
their table.

“So,
what’s your story?” he asked, genuinely interested in hearing it.

“Mine?”
She smiled again. Sam thought that he could get used to watching her smile.
“I’m studying Microbiology at MIT.”

“No
kidding? I have a Master’s in oceanography from MIT.”

She
gave him that look which he translated to mean, “Sure, like you could afford
MIT as a tugboat driver.”

He
ignored the look and said, “So, do you come from old money too?”

“Oh
yeah, that’s my family.” She said sarcastically. “My dad’s forever trying to
send me my own helicopter.”

Sam
laughed at that. More from his understanding and his past experiences than he
would ever let her know.

“No,
I’m there on a scholarship, actually.”

“Hey,
good for you.” He’d already picked up that she was bright. “What… like a Rhodes
scholarship or something like that?”

“Yeah,
something like that...” she replied. Still, that smile seemed to become even
cuter, as though she was deciding whether or not to keep hiding something.

“Oh,
shit. You’re serious! You are a Rhodes Scholar! You must be really bright.”
Good
looking and bright. Maybe I should just ask her to marry me now.

She
laughed, but behind it, he could see that she was mildly embarrassed, as though
she was used to being treated differently by boys.

“My
dad’s the bright one, she added. He’s a microbiologist as well, and after my
mum left him, I suppose the only thing he could do right was to teach me about
science. I don’t think I’m necessarily any better or brighter than anyone else.
You see, it was just what we sort of did as a family.”

“You
don’t get on with your dad?” Sam asked.

“No,
of course I do. I mean, he still treats me like I’m sixteen and his little
girl, but I know he loves me. What makes you say that?”

“You’ve
made a few comments about him stifling you. Don’t look upset. I have the same
problem with my dad. We love each other, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere
near him, or see him too often.”

“Yeah,
I suppose that’s true of my dad, too,” she admitted.

“And
your mum?”

“No
idea. She left my dad years ago.”

“I’m
sorry,” he said.

“Don’t
be. It happens.”

They
continued talking for about half an hour, and the time went by too quickly.
Then, he saw a large, unfamiliar Jet Ranger hover overhead, circle and then
land in the parking lot at the end of the street.

“I
guess that’s your ride,” she said.

“Guess
so, but it isn’t one of ours.”

“It’s
been nice talking to you, Sam.”

“Thank
you. It’s been a pleasure talking to you too, Aliana.
”
 He
then wrote down his phone number.
“
I have some work to do in
Europe, but I travel a fair amount. If you would ever like to have lunch with
me, I’d love to see you again – anywhere, anytime.”

Sam
meant it too. He would happily make an excuse to visit any part of the world
just to spend a short amount of time in her company.

She
took it, kissed him on the cheek, and then said with a grin, “Maybe I will.”

*

“Boy,
am I sure glad to see you, Tom,” Sam said.

“You
look like crap. So, what have you done this time?” There was laughter in Tom’s
voice, but he spoke with genuine concern too, combined with a touch of reproof.

“It’s
a long story,” Sam said, as he looked up at his friend. “You look like you’ve
had a rough week at work. Where’s my Sea King, anyway?”

“About
that…” Tom stopped short.

“I
get it. It’s going to be a long story.”

“You
go first.”

It
took the entire flight back to Sydney harbor, where the Maria Helena was at its
temporary mooring making repairs, for Sam to tell his story, filling in all the
parts about the gold, the brutal attack, and at last, about the girl that he’d
met.

After
they landed on the back deck of the Maria Helena, Sam looked across at his
friend, and said, “So Tom, what did you do while I was away?”

“Well
Sam…” Tom wore his usual grin as he pressed the collective all the way down,
letting the rotary blades wind down, through their natural whine, and then
patted Sam on his shoulder and said, “While you’ve been out playing, I’ve been
busy working. I flew the Sea King through the eye of a cyclone in order to save
one of your dad’s super bulkers in an attempt to also save the lives of all the
sea, as well as the lives of millions of Queenslanders, in the process.”

“No
shit?” Sam’s eyes showed that he was impressed, and that he believed what Tom
had just told him. Had it come from anyone other than Tom, he would have called
them a liar.

“Yep.”

“Did
you save her?”

“Nope,
she sank just before reaching the Great Barrier Reef,” Tom admitted.

“Wow,
I guess my dad was pissed about that.”

“Sure
was,” Tom replied, “but not so much about losing his ship.”

“What
then?”

“He
was more upset about the loss of the contents of his private vault.”

“Bet
he asked you dive for them during the cyclone, didn’t he?” Sam asked. He knew
all about his father’s private vault, and he had a good idea of just what he
was transporting inside.

“Right
again.”

“And,
I’ll also bet that you told him where to go.”

“No.
When he told me what was at stake, I had to do what he wanted.”

“What
was inside it when you opened the vault?” Sam asked, only mildly curious. He
and his father generally kept out of each other’s secret lives.

“Nothing.”

“What
do you mean? Had it been destroyed?”

“No,
just stolen.”