The Mahogany Ship (Sam Reilly Book 2) (3 page)

*

A crooked smile crossed Sam’s face, as he thought about
diving the unexplored, ancient Mayan tunnel.

This was more like the environment he wanted to work in:
dangerous, mysterious, and ancient. He went through the dive plan with Tom, and
although he now took over the control of the mission, he was happy with the
plan.

They would use the dive bell to reach the seafloor, 300 feet
below. The Maria Helena housed a technologically advanced dive bell. It was capable
of supporting up to five divers at any one time for up to five days without
shipside support, or indefinitely with a shipside tether.

The Rock, as the bell was affectionately known, had a
potential bottom depth range of 1000 feet, although Sam would be reluctant to
attempt to work at such depths without the aid of a mechanical atmospheric dive
suit. It was also equipped with a hyperbaric chamber, making rapid ascents
possible, if required.

Once on the seabed, Sam and Tom would set up for a deep dive
and enter the tunnel. Wearing fully encapsulated diving helmets, the two men
would be protected from the lethality of the hydrogen cyanide, which is most
dangerous when breathed or ingested. At that depth, the two men would have a
dive time of less than fifty minutes in which to locate the source of the
cyanide contamination and seal it. Returning to the outer chamber of the Rock,
the two men could then begin the decontamination process, which involved
scrubbing each dive suit with a neutralizing agent before entering the dive
bell and then having the dive suit washed again before the men removed the
equipment and entered the main living area of the bell.

Or that was how it was supposed to go.

At the bottom of the seafloor Sam shook Tom, who, lying flat
on his back in the relatively cramped space, was snoring soundly. It took more
than a light shake to rouse the man, “Hey, we’re here. It’s time to get ready.”

“What time is it?” Tom’s voice was groggy.

“1410. The dive time is set to commence at 1430.” Shaking
his head, Sam said, “We’re about to dive in 300 feet of water. Our bodies will
be under 30 times their normal atmospheric pressure. As though that isn’t
dangerous enough, we’re going to do so in the hope of sealing a catastrophic
leak of hydrogen cyanide, in a tunnel that will compete with the extreme depth
to kill us… and yet you sleep like a baby?”

Tom shrugged his shoulders, “I’ve always been a good sleeper
– you never know when you’ll need the extra energy later. You want an egg
sandwich before we dive? I packed you one too,” he said casually, taking a
bite.

“I’ll be all right, but make it quick.”

Sam put his legs through his dry suit and checked both of
their twin dive tanks. By the time he looked up, he caught a glimpse of Tom
shoving the remaining half of his sandwich in his mouth. His boyish grin was
displayed behind the mouth full of food.

Ordinarily, Sam would remain on the ship as the director of
the operation. But when Tom had spoken of an ancient tunnel, he wouldn’t hear a
word about missing out on it. Consequently, Matthew would take over his role.
He had direct access with several doctors from the CDC, who could provide real
time answers to any question Sam or Tom asked while they were in the tunnel.

It took less than five minutes to lock their dive helmets
and complete their checks on each other before they were ready to dive.

“Maria Helena, Maria Helena, this is Reilly, how do you
read?” Sam said through his push to talk (PTT) system.

“Loud and clear.” It was Matthew’s voice that answered him.

“Very good. Now that we’ve established the Rock’s relay
communications are working, are we clear to dive?”

“Weather up here is still good. You and Tom have a safe
dive.”

Sam looked at Tom, who nodded to show he was ready. And then,
one after the other, they started to climb backwards down the steps into the
moon pool below, and into another world.

The water was dark, but the visibility with their
flashlights excellent – at least fifty feet. Sam checked that the navigation
beacon on board the Rock was working, and that his range finder could clearly
see it. Reassured by the flashing bulb, he then held the electronic dive tablet
in front of him, and hit Search.

It flashed several times, sending ultrahigh frequency sound
waves out in a 270-degree arc ahead of them. Immediately, the screen showed the
flat surface of the seabed and the only obstacle for a hundred feet – the
entrance to the tunnel. 

Sam pointed at his marking, and Tom responded, “That’s our
cave.”

“Copy that.” He marked the entrance to the tunnel with an asterisk,
and like a GPS his tablet directed him precisely to the point.

“Just wait till you see this thing, Sam…” Tom said.

It was a short swim to the entrance of the tunnel. The
surrounding area was noticeably devoid of any sea life.

Sam looked up at the entrance in front of him.

“Holy shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

*

Above him, the entrance to the tunnel stood at nearly forty
feet. The outside was carved in ornate jade, intricately connected. Despite the
buildup of sand and erosion of nearly six centuries, Sam had no doubt what he
was looking at. His mind quickly referenced the little he knew about Mayan
culture.

This was no tunnel.

It was something entirely different – the very top of a
pyramid.

At the opening stood a golden sculpture. The size of a large
man, it held a spear pointing out towards a distant enemy. No light reached
this spot, but as Sam focused his flashlight towards it, the spear glowed. Only
it wasn’t a spear, at all.

“Do you realize what that is?” Sam said, already kicking his
fins towards the ancient artefact.

“Like I said, The Ark of Light was real.”

Sam was certain the second he saw it.

A man who was quick to assess a situation, but slow and
confident with a decision, he was used to being correct. It was because of this
that the disappointment was so strong when he reached the structure and
discovered it was nothing more than a sculpture, with a piece of glass at its
center. Still doubting himself, Sam wondered if it was made of diamond,
instead.

“Sorry, Sam,” Tom said, “I thought I told you I’d already
searched the entrance? Even I would have noticed if it were the real Ark of
Light.”

“It’s okay. I just got my hopes up.”

“Do you think we’ll find what old Ajtzak did with the Ark of
Light somewhere inside this tunnel?” Tom asked.

“I’ve no idea, but I think this is the closest that mankind
has come to discovering the weapon since it was lost in the fifteenth century.”
Sam examined the structure of the entrance with admiration. “And something
tells me this was never meant as a tunnel…”

“What then?”

“A tomb – Maybe Ajtzak’s final resting place? There was
nothing in the history books about where they buried him, or even if he was
given a King’s burial, as his bloodline suggested he should.”

“You might just be on to something there.”

“I’m certain of it,” Sam said. “What I can’t work out though,
is how a fifteenth century civilization managed to build anything at a depth of
300 feet of water, especially something this intricate.”

“Maybe they built it on land and then lowered it off a
massive ship?”

“No, even if they had the means of carrying something this
large on a ship, there’s no way they could have sunk it and had it land so
perfectly.”

“How then?”

“Let’s go find out.”

“Agreed.”

They swam inside the entrance of the pyramid, which was much
less elaborate than its outside. The tunnel could just have easily been a
flooded subway in New York for all the similarities of appearance. They swam downwards
nearly thirty feet and then found one long tunnel heading both west and east.

“Diver Reilly, radio check Maria Helena?”

“Hearing you a little weak, say again.”

Sam stuck a relay transmitter and booster to the tunnel
wall.

“How do you read me now, Matthew?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good. What we have here appears to be the top of an ancient
pyramid, probably Mayan given its location.  All we could see from the entrance
was the very top, surrounded by sand. There’s no way to guess how much further
down this may go. The water here has the highest concentrations of hydrogen
cyanide, so at least we’re onto something with our first mission – to seal the
leak and contain the contamination. We’re going to explore this tunnel and see
what we find.”

“Very good, keep us in communication range.”

“Will do.”

Sam looked at Tom, and said, “Let’s separate. You want to go
east or west first?”

“East.”

“Okay, make certain you stay within radio range.” 

“Will do, boss – you just call when you need me to rescue
your ass.”

“You can count on it.”

The tunnel went for approximately 80 feet from one end to
the other. At each end, the tunnel submerged further in a steep downward
direction, as though the top of the outside pyramid was just the tip of the
iceberg, which extended deep into the seabed.

Of course, that would be impossible…

“What do you want to do, Sam?”

“Plant another transmitter, and if you’re happy, let’s
continue further down. I have a crazy feeling that we might just meet at the
bottom. If you lose radio reception, double back, and meet at the Rock. I don’t
want to take any chances.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Sam continued down the steep tunnel. There were boulders on
either side, suggesting that whoever once built it, used stone to prop up the
walls.
Or that someone had actually built a real pyramid here first and then
it was filled with water?
Sam brushed the idea from his mind. It didn’t
even warrant contemplation.

Sam checked his dive watch.

He was already 480 feet underwater. Their decompress time
was going to be pretty long, not that Sam worried about that. He had the Rock,
after all. It was his remaining Hydrox that worried him.

“How’s your Hydrox levels, Tom?”

“I’ve got another 40 minutes at this depth, how about you?”

“Same. Let’s just make sure we’ve got plenty of time to make
the return. I have no intention of joining any king in his burial tomb.”

“I’m with you there.”

At 240 feet, the angle of the tunnel turned abruptly
inwards, and the tunnel was once again horizontal.

“Your tunnel horizontal again, Tom?”

“Yeah, you too?”

“Yeah, it may have been just a tunnel, but it’s one hell of
a deep tunnel, all the same. How any civilization worked out how to dig this
beats me!”

“I’ve heard you use that voice before. You’re going to have
to find out aren’t you? It will be Zanzibar all over again, won’t it?”

Sam smiled to himself as he shook his head, recalling the
events of their discovery in Zanzibar last year.
There’s no way I could be
so wrong – twice.

“They’ll find how it was done one day, let me assure you. I
just hope I live long enough to have my answer. Hey, I think I can see your
light up ahead.”

“That’s not possible,” Tom’s voice was calm, but deadly
serious.

“Why not?”

“Because I turned mine off more than a minute ago, when I
saw your light.”

Tom was so distracted by the brightness of the light, that
he nearly missed the crack in the outer wall entirely. When the current grabbed
him, he thought it was a monster of the deep drawing him into its jaws.

He would have been amazed to learn that the crack was no
larger than his hand, but the extreme pressure gradient expelled the fluid like
a jet. If he’d had time to prepare, he would have been able to brace himself,
or at least avoid the direct point of flow.

Spinning from the pressure, his buoyancy disorientated by
the flow, Tom’s helmet collided with the masonry of the tunnel wall, directly
opposite to the crack.

Gas instantly began erupting from the fissure.

“Shit, my helmet’s been compromised…” he yelled, but no one
heard his words. His radio, along with his faceplate, were destroyed.

Hydrox, the oxygen rich hydrogen gas designed for deep sea
diving, flowed freely from his faceplate. The bubbles it created blinded him
completely. With the high concentrations of hydrogen cyanide in his surrounding
water, it was the positive pressure of the Hydrox that was still keeping him
alive, but it would expire within minutes at this rate.

Tom flicked his flashlight on and off continuously. He had
no idea which direction in relation to himself Sam was, but he knew that a
message had to be passed, if he was ever going to see the surface. If he’d
thought it through at all, he would have realized that, even with the ability
to see, he would never have had enough gas to reach the Rock.

He was going to die.

Like all creatures, he refused to accept his fate, despite
the circumstances. With no way of knowing that his radio had been damaged he
kept trying to contact the only person on earth who had the chance to save him.

 “Sam, my faceplate has been compromised, I need help –
now!”

Without knowing whether or not his flashlight had been
successful in attracting Sam’s attention, he switched it off. Through the
millions of bubbles streaming from the crack in his faceplate, Tom saw the
glowing light in the distance.

There. I have to reach it, before the darkness takes me…

Tom kicked his strong legs, and the fins propelled him in
the direction towards the light, but without much visibility, he had little way
of determining how close he was to it. Then he saw a second light, which was
moving up and down, more like dolphin, towards him. And then the leaking Hydrox
stopped.

He had run out of breathable gas.

Like a dying fool, Tom closed his eyes, held his breath, and
swam towards his death – and death swam towards him. Within a minute, he no
longer had to hold his eyes closed, and was surrounded by the darkness.

Unconsciousness wrapped itself around his mind comfortingly,
like an adult spreading a warm blanket over a child.

*

Sam struggled to remove the deformed helmet. Using an emergency
wrench connected to the back of Tom’s twin dive tanks, he gripped the helmet’s
outer lock and pulled with all his might. The device still did not move. On his
third, attempt, he got the casing to turn, then quickly pulled it off his limp
friend’s head.

“Tom! Can you hear me?”

Tom’s eyes were open, and the man was still gasping for air,
but something was wrong. The muscles around his face started to twitch.

He’s been exposed to the hydrogen cyanide…

Opening the cyanide antidote kit, Sam said, “Matthew, put
the toxicologist on the line – and I mean, right now.”

Seconds later, he had a reply, “Doctor Johnston speaking.”

“Tom’s faceplate has been damaged and he’s been exposed to
high concentrations of hydrogen cyanide… I have the antidote kit open, but
there’s about ten fucking mini-jets inside – I need you to give me the sequence
of administration.”

“Work from left to right, for the first three. Start with
the aerosol amyl nitrite – give it immediately into his mouth, and be sure to
hold his nose closed.”

Sam followed the order, and sprayed the aerosol solutions
into Tom’s mouth in rapid succession. His hands were stable. He didn’t have
time to be frightened. Sam now had the equipment and the instructions available.
All he had to do was follow them, and Tom would survive – or he wouldn’t, but
he would have been given the best chance.  

Without waiting for Sam to acknowledge that he’d done so,
the doctor continued, “Now, on with the first injection. It’s called sodium
nitrite, and you’re going to need to administer it intravenously. That’s going
to mean inserting it into Tom’s large jugular vein. Make sure it’s inside the
vein, otherwise it won’t work, and now just shove the entire contents in.”

Sam had learned the basic concepts of venipuncture at
college, while working on autopsies of certain mammals, but that was a far cry
from inserting a massive needle into his best friend’s large neck vein.

He drew on his memories, and inserted it first go.

Sam attached the mini-jet and injected the full contents.
Forcing himself to take purposely slow, deep breaths, he waited for a response.

“Okay, the sodium nitrite is in.”

“Good, now I want you to leave that needle inside Tom’s neck
and attach the second mini-jet. That one is filled with sodium thiosulfate. You
will notice, it doesn’t have a needle on the end. The reason for this is that
you can insert it over the previous needle and just inject it straight in.”

Sam followed the instructions, and then asked, “Now what?”

“If you were quick enough, and your friend is strong, he has
about a 25 percent chance that he will survive. If he regains consciousness, I
need you to start working through the rest of the kit – as the packet says,
from left to right, each one injected through the same port that you made when
you inserted the second medication into his neck vein.”

“Thanks Doc,” Sam said, and for an instant he thought he saw
his friend’s eyes starting to focus. “Now, Matthew, we only have one helmet
between the two of us, and very little Hydrox in our tanks. We’re going to need
you to send a rescue mission.”

“Rescue mission?” The incredulity in Matthew’s voice could
be heard despite the radio friction. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’ll explain shortly, but first, you better bring up the
Rock and start preparing for a rescue mission!”

In front of him, Tom’s open eyes, staring blankly into that
space somewhere between life and death, appeared to recognize something. His
pupils dilated, and his head turned to orient with Sam’s. Without speaking, he
slowly looked up, towards the glow above.

“Where the fuck are we, Sam?” Tom’s voice was cold, but not
frightened.

“Hey, you’re alive!” Sam patted Tom’s back. His friend
coughed a little, but he looked like he was going to be okay. “Well Tom, I’m
not certain, but if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say, we just entered the inner
tomb of an ancient king.”