The Last Airship (16 page)

Blake
Simmonds felt every single one of his 68 years of life.

It
had been a long time since he’d been so involved in field work, particularly
one with such catastrophic consequences. It was certainly the most mentally
demanding he’d done in years.

He
felt like he was right in the midst of a second nuclear arms race. In truth, he
still wasn’t certain whether or not the involvement with his employer made him
the good guy or the bad one.

At
first, the thought of the work ahead had invigorated him, but now, after two
weeks of putting in long hours, getting almost no sleep, and wondering about
his floundering morality, Blake Simmonds was utterly exhausted.

He
cursed himself for losing the upper hand. He was the only one who knew that Sam
Reilly was still alive, and that he had flown to the Alps to join the rest of
the damn treasure hunters.
Savages, every last one of them!

At
least he had the good fortune of knowing that Sam had hired one of their
helicopters. The GPS locating device, mounted atop the Robinson 44, kept him
updated on their every fruitless movement.

But
what could they accomplish, which others had failed in the past 75 years?

It
wasn’t until he noticed their helicopter next to Lake Solitude, that he
understood the severity of his mistake.

Blake
had, at first noted their landing site, and assumed that it was just like every
other place they’d landed and searched during the past two weeks. It wasn’t
until he focused his satellites towards the lake that he realized which side of
the Alps they were on.

Then,
it only took mere seconds before the mental image of Peter Greenstein somehow
clearing the mountain pass, losing altitude, and landing in the middle of the
frozen lake, entered his mind.

His
mind then made the same connection that Sam Reilly’s had – that an avalanche
might have opened a rift in the frozen lake surface for the first time in
probably a century. A quick internet search showed him that he was right.

But
it wasn’t until he brought up the centuries old map on his computer, that he
suddenly knew with certainty, that Sam Reilly had been right about the final
resting place of the Magdalena. 

It
was time to make his move –
but could he do it in time?

*

Sam
finished removing the last of the dive equipment from the back of the
helicopter.

He
was glad that Tom had managed to put the 44 down on an enormous piece of solid
granite, which formed a small island near the edge of the lake. Upon their
first fly-over yesterday afternoon, he wasn’t sure if this maneuver was even
going to be possible. Considering the giant pine trees lining the lake’s edge,
there was a chance they might have to land miles away and hike in.

As
it was, Tom had found this rock, as though it had been set in place just for
them. Sam decided that the chunk of granite appeared to be slightly out of
place in the turquoise-green lake, which was made up almost entirely of
limestone. Sam could picture this rock forming part of the missing peak of the
mountain above them.

The
dive equipment was set up in front of the helicopter, ready for them to begin
their safety checks and formalize a dive plan for their first descent.

They
had spent the night camped on the edge of the lake. One of the hardest
equations to predict with any certainty, is how much residual nitrogen a person
may have from ground level to when they reached altitude. Although few
scientific studies had been performed on diving at altitudes above 8,000 feet,
it was generally considered sound diving advice to acclimatize to the altitude
for a minimum of twelve hours before making a first descent.

At
higher altitudes, atmospheric pressure is lower than it is at sea level,
therefore surfacing at the end of an altitude dive leads to an even greater
reduction in pressure and thus causes an increased risk of decompression illness.
Such dives are also typically carried out in freshwater at high altitudes, and
fresh water has a lower density than the seawater used in the calculation of
decompression tables. The amount of time the diver has spent at altitude is
also of concern, as divers with gas loadings near those of sea level may also
be at an increased risk.

Sam
sat and simply looked at the lake around him.

Despite
the cold, Lake Solitude glistened in the sun’s rays. They had picked one of the
few weeks of the year in which the lake’s surface had thawed, presenting the
pristine waters below its surface.

In
the distance, the enormous mountain peak of Mount Oztal could be seen, followed
by a steep row of thousands of giant pine trees. At this distance, they looked
like blades of grass until they reached the banks of the lake. There, the
lake’s shallow edge was a soft turquoise, and the crystal clear water of the
recently thawed ice allowed Sam to see the limestone bottom as easily as if he
were looking through a window, but impossible to hazard a guess as to its
depth. He was able to follow the lake’s bottom for some distance before the
sunlight failed to penetrate the extreme depths at the center of the lake.

It
was here that Sam hoped that the Magdalena had come to rest, thus remaining
hidden, for all these years.

“Of
all the places we’ve seen since we came here Sam, this must be the most magical
of them all.” Tom said, reverently.

“That’s
for sure. It’s magical enough that I’m worried someone else must have surely
dived it before now. Heck, if I had known about this place, I’d have made a
trip to dive here years ago.
Let’s just hope that it releases its secret
– the final resting place of our missing airship.”

“Agreed.
There’s just one way to find out.”

They
each wore an inch-thick dry suit, under which they wore a thick layer of
thermal clothing and a woolen beanie. The water was going to be icy cold, and
having already checked and rechecked the math of their decompression
requirements at this altitude, hypothermia would be their greatest risk.

On
their heads, each wore a Neptune Space Diver Mask with a push-to-talk
communications system (PTT), double LED lighting, and a camera to record the
trip.

Loading
their equipment first, Sam and Tom climbed down into the inflatable Zodiac, in
which they were able to motor to the middle of the lake. Where the lake turned
from light green to an almost black aquamarine signified that they’d reached
the deepest section of the lake. There
,
they ran a dive line to the
bottom.

“Let’s
see how deep this thing goes…” Sam said, as he started to feed the dive wire.

“100
feet, and still running freely,” Tom said a few minutes later.

“Keep
her going until she reaches the bottom.”

“150
feet, and still going.”

“If
our airship is sitting at the bottom, I can see why she remained hidden so long,”
Sam said. “Diving near ten thousand feet is one thing, diving to depths below
150 feet while at such altitudes, is another thing entirely for the
recreational diver.”

“Forget
the recreational diver. I’m a professional, and I’m still not keen on it.” The
wire stopped running at 180 feet, and the line went slack. They had reached the
bottom. Tom looked at Sam, and asked, “Shall we see what’s at her bottom?”

“Let's.”

They
would do their deepest dive first. Besides, they both were eager to know
whether or not their hunch was right, and the most likely answer to that
question was waiting for them at the deepest part of the lake.

Sam
placed the regulator in his mouth, checked that his buoyancy control device (BCD)
was inflated, placed his right hand on his facemask, and rolled backwards off
the zodiac.

He
broke the still of the morning’s water with a giant splash, the icy water
sending lightning signals up his spine.

I
don’t care how beautiful it is, I hate altitude diving.

A
moment later, Sam was floating on the surface of the lake. He placed his hand
on his head, forming a simple symbol for the letter “O” which meant that all
was okay.

Above
him, in the Zodiac, he watched Tom respond, using the same symbol, before
following him into the water.

Once
the bubbles settled, he heard Tom’s voice through the PTT device in his facemask.

“You
didn’t mention how fucking cold the water is!”

“I
didn’t think you’d follow me in if I did.”

“Come
on, let’s start the descent.” Tom said. “Hypothermia’s going to be a bitch the
longer we wait.”

The
two of them started to descend. 

The
clear water made it all but impossible to determine distances. Sam was always
baffled when people would talk to him about how scary it was diving in murky
water. When the water was crystal clear like this, your depth perception became
so warped that it was easy to make the kind of mistakes that get you killed,
either during a descent or ascent. For that reason, both men kept their depth
gauges out in front as they made their descent.

Sam’s
eyes feasted on the surreal environment they had entered.

The
limestone gave a distinct green glow through the water, as the sun’s rays
penetrated the surface above. Near the rock where their helicopter rested, Sam
could see a series of tunnels, all of which were much too small for the
Magdalena to have entered, but which caused a myriad of reflective displays as
the light traveled through. He made a mental note to come back and explore them
later, if given the chance to do so before they left.

At
a depth of ten feet, he opened his jaw, subconsciously equalizing for the
change in pressure, as he continued his descent.

The
rocks to his side appeared to be perhaps twenty feet away, in the exceptionally
clear water. As an experienced diver though, Sam knew from the position of the
zodiac, that they were more like 500 feet away.

At
a depth of fifty feet they passed the two large air tanks which were tied to
the dive line at the 50 foot marker. These were emergency air supplies, just in
case something went wrong on their ascent.

One
hundred and eighty feet was well beyond the realm of a no-decompression dive.
It meant that what would be a quick drop to the bottom, would require a much
longer and slower ascent.

“We’re
just under a third of the way down,” Sam said. “How are you feeling, Tom?”

“Cold.
How about you?”

“I’m
all right. If I’d known what you were dragging me into, I would have brought
along my ice diving gear.”

“If
I’d realized what we were in for, I would have done the same thing too,” Tom
remarked.

“Did
you see the caves near our rock?” Sam asked, as he pointed toward them.

“Yeah,
they were probably formed by the avalanche all those years ago.”

“Seems
a likely explanation. If we get a chance, let’s make a shallow dive there later
today.”

“Sounds
good,” Tom agreed.

Descending
into the deepest section at the center of the lake, Sam noticed that the shape
of the lake, as seen from the air, varied greatly in the central section, which
dropped to 180 feet, whereas the depth of the rest of the lake was somewhere in
the vicinity of 30 to 40 feet, and had a silty bottom. The central section
appeared to be more like the tunnel of a giant earthworm, burrowing its way
down to the center of the earth.

Sam
turned on his powerful hand torch for a few minutes as he continued his
descent, and shined it along the rock walls.

My
God, we’re in ancient lava tunnel!

The
walls were shaped as an ancient sinkhole, formed in the soft limestone over a
period of millions of years. It was almost entirely cylindrical, as though
something had intentionally created it. At its widest point, it was no more
than 150 feet across.

“Hey
buddy,” Sam could hear Tom’s voice, “I don’t know about you, but something
about this hole makes me feel like we’re caught somewhere between reruns of
'The Abyss' and 'Journey to the Center of the Earth.’”

“Or,
'The Silence of the Lambs'?”

“Yeah,
that’s seems more like it. It’s giving me the creeps,” Tom murmured.

“I
wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s no different than the thousands of other
naturally occurring limestone tunnels found throughout the Dolomites,” Sam
said, looking down at his depth gauge and at the darkness below. “Besides, what
sort of monster could be bothered living in such an inhospitable environment?”

They
were approaching a depth of 100 feet.

Below
them there was only complete darkness.

“In
a tunnel this narrow, at least we’ll find our answer at the bottom,” he heard
Tom say. “If her remains are at the bottom of this tunnel, there’s no way we
could possibly miss seeing her.”

“That’s
what I was thinking,” Sam concurred.

The
water temperature was becoming noticeably colder, too.