Part One
Fountain of Life
Thou shalt have no other gods before
Me
Exodus 20:3
Prologue
A beautifully restored Junkers JU52, nicknamed ‘Iron Annie’
lifted her wheels from the tarmac and rose gracefully into the air. Olga Zindel and her brother Ernst were at the
controls, they were both wearing wide grins across their faces.
‘Iron Annie’ was heavy and slow to react, but she was a
pleasure to fly. Her cockpit contained
none of the refinements of a modern aircraft, but that was her charm. Constructed in the 1930s, she had been
designed using flowing lines and curves that were not just aesthetically pleasing
but aerodynamically sound. Her three BMW
Hornet A2 liquid cooled radial engines were original but had been extensively overhauled
and it was not just her engines that had been refurbished, her airframe had
received a thorough examination and now the aircraft was once again fully
operational.
Olga eased the control column gently forward as the aircraft
reached its operational height and at 4000 metres, they settled into level
flight. With the engines set for
economic cruising, the vibrations running through the airframe subsided and now
both Olga and Ernst could begin to relax and enjoy the ride.
From the windows on the flight deck, they had a clear view
over the mountain range that stretched out ahead of them; it reminded Olga of a
wrinkled duvet. The colour of the
terrain was as varied as a patchwork quilt; rich greens indicating thick forest
and vegetation interspersed with shades of brown and grey where the rocks and
sandy soil formed mountaintops and valleys.
With Olga in the pilot’s seat, Ernst sat at the little
navigation table situated just after the flight deck. One of them would have to remain at the
controls at all times; ‘Iron Annie’ was high maintenance, she had no autopilot
or satellite navigation systems.
Speaking into the intercom microphone attached to his
earphones, Ernst gave his sister a direction heading and she made the necessary
changes to their course. The noise
inside the cockpit made communication impossible; the only way they could make
themselves heard was by using the intercom system.
‘Iron Annie’s’ nose was now pointing due east and her
controls were set for level flight, her trim was good and she required less
muscle to hold her steady. Glancing over
her shoulder at her brother, Olga nodded her appreciation and a wide grin split
her face, she would have it no other way.
She loved to fly vintage aircraft and had logged up many hours. Ernst preferred to fly modern aeroplanes especially
jets but he too had hundreds of hours logged flying old piston engined
aircraft.
“Well that’s it.”
Ernst spoke into the microphone.
“I’m going to get us some coffee.”
Easing his long legs from the cramped space, he made his way
back into the cargo hold and grasping at the overhead rail, ducked under a
bulkhead rib before straightening up in the larger space beyond. The fuselage resembled a long corrugated
tube, the walls made from thin aluminium sheet vibrated and rattled especially
when flying through turbulence, but this was nothing unusual.
There was only one crate strapped into the hold and reaching
down beside it, he unstrapped his satchel containing a thermos flask and neat
packs of sandwiches.
Ernst and Olga were a team, business partners struggling to
make ends meet. They were in the
airfreight business but their ageing cargo jet would never pass another bill of
health. Their enterprise was sadly
coming to an end as was their relationship with their financiers, so it was an
opportunity that neither of them could have imagined when an organisation
calling themselves the Phoenix Legion contacted them. The job on offer was too good to miss; it was
hardly a difficult decision to make. On
closer inspection, they discovered that a group of executives devoted to
everything German ran the Phoenix Legion and both Olga and Ernst were patriotic
enough to appreciate this.
Glancing around the hold, Ernst had to pinch himself; he
still couldn’t believe that he was actually flying a Junkers 52. The level of restoration was breathtaking, it
was as if the old aircraft had just rolled off the production line, but ‘Iron
Annie’ was in fact older than he and his sisters combined age.
He eyed the packing case. Fabricated from wood, it stood waist high with
dimensions that made it a perfect cube, but strangely, it looked a little out
of proportion. He wondered what it
contained, they had documents relating to its passage, but the contents
remained a mystery, the inventory simply stated archaeological artefacts.
He was aware that the German high command during World War
Two were fascinated by ancient treasures, he also knew that priceless items were
stolen from Europe during the German advance.
Maybe this case contained such treasures; he frowned as his imagination
threatened to run wild.
Their destination was also a mystery; an abandoned airfield
in northern Turkey, but he was professional enough not to ask questions, it was
simply his job to deliver the goods.
Squeezing back into the cockpit, he sat in the co-pilots seat
next to his sister and poured two mugs of coffee. Handing her one he then turned his attention
to unwrapping the packs of sandwiches.
“What do you think we are carrying?” Olga glanced at him as she took the mug.
“I’ve no idea.” He
replied.
Usually she didn’t care about such things but today was
different and as Olga chewed thoughtfully on her sandwich she had no idea why
her curiosity was aroused, she simply had a burning desire to know what was inside
that packing crate. Earlier she had
watched from the edge of the runway as men loaded it into the aircraft and it
was then that something strange happened.
The hairs on the back of her neck had stood up and she had an
overwhelming desire to look inside the crate.
Curiosity was an infectious thing; she was going to have to
satisfy it before long. Olga shuddered
as she checked the instrument panel. One
of the engine temperature gauges was a little high and watching it intently,
she realised that the needle was climbing slowly beyond the normal operating
range. There was not yet cause for
concern but instinctively she reached for the throttle and reduced the revs to
that engine. This would make little difference
to their progress and with a slight adjustment to the trim wheel she nodded
with satisfaction.
“Just keep an eye on that Ernst, we don’t want to break
it.” She grinned before handing control
over to her brother.
They had been in the air for almost two hours and were
flying over a barren mountain range with peaks reaching to just over 3000
metres. It was not a particularly
hazardous journey, there were no high winds or pockets of turbulence to send
them jerking across the sky. The
aircraft rose and fell gently in the Mediterranean air, the only thing to
rattle the fuselage was the vibrations of the engines. Olga left her seat and stretched her long
legs out before disappearing into the cargo hold. She was not as big as Ernst and was able to
move around much easier in the cramped space.
Once she had used the tiny chemical cubicle, which had been added
especially for their convenience, she eyed the packing case with interest. Reaching out she rested her hand on the warm
wooden top and could feel the vibrations of the aircraft running through her
fingers. Pulling her hand away sharply it
was as if the case was alive and looking around she mumbled something under her
breath, embarrassed by her childish reaction.
She had to know what was inside. No one would know if she lifted the lid, she
would of course replace it once her curiosity was satisfied.
Moving towards the maintenance locker, she found a small crowbar
and used it to prise off the lid. The
nails came out easily and placing it to one side, she began to feel around with
her fingers. Pushing her hands into the
packaging, the shredded paper was like straw protecting the items from a
hazardous journey.
Her fingers touched something solid and lifting it carefully
from its resting place, she pulled out a silver flask. There was no indication to its contents and
once she had scrutinised it she put it down carefully beside the crate. Going in again, she found a package wrapped
in greaseproof paper. Unwrapping it
carefully her eyes widened as soon as she saw the light glittering from its
twisted golden surface. A beautifully
crafted neck ring appeared in her hands and lifting it higher she knew it was
priceless. It was old; she had seen such
things in museums, but never before had she held an object of such ancient
beauty. She recognised it as a Celtic torc
crafted from finely twisted white gold and she revelled in its magnificence. Looking closer she could see gold threads woven
together to form a rope thicker than her thumb, the quality of the workmanship
was exquisite; she had never seen anything so beautifully worked. Finials of solid gold had been crafted into
the shape of horses’ heads; these adorned the ends and a chain so fine she
could hardly see the links. Although
delicately made it was strong even after all these centuries and moving closer
to one of the windows set into the fuselage, Olga held it up until it caught
the light. She studied the symbols carved
into the gold with interest, she had no idea what they meant; its message from
the past was beyond her understanding.
After the initial shock of her discovery, a wide grin
settled on her face and she experienced an overwhelming urge to try it on. It would do no harm to slip it around her
neck. As soon as the idea flashed into
her head, her fingers were unfastening the golden chain, and lifting it up she
slipped it over her head.
The weight of it against her neck was satisfying, its
significance as an object of power was re-assuring and it made her feel like a
queen. Wearing such a magnificent object,
she could now begin to understand how a chief must have felt. The torc
represented the wealth of a nation and she was proud to be wearing it even if
it was for just a fleeting moment, besides it could have been her own ancestors
worshipping the bearer of such a torc.
Turning towards the cockpit, she wanted to show her brother, the power
of the torc was intoxicating, she must share it with Ernst. She could feel its force running throughout
her body, it was like a weak electrical current or a vibration against her skin
then suddenly from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement. Turning towards the tail section, she knew it
was unlikely, there could not possibly be anyone there, but her eyes widened
and she drew in a sharp breath. Standing
at the end of the fuselage was a red haired woman dressed in a long white
robe. Olga blinked, it couldn’t be true,
in her heightened state of excitement she realised that her imagination must be
running wild, but the woman continued to stare.
Vibrations running through the metal at her throat became stronger and
the torc began to feel hot. It was as if
it was alive, like a serpent encircling her neck, it drew tighter and the first
glimmer of fear touched her soul. Moving
her hands to her throat, Olga tried to lift the torc over her head. She wanted rid of it, her breath was coming in
quick gasps, and as the torc wound tighter around her neck she cried out in
panic, but the sound of her terror was lost in the noise of the aircraft.
The red haired woman moved slowly towards her and with every
step, the illusion became more realistic.
Reaching out, her ice-cold fingertips stung Olga’s cheeks and moving
backwards Olga almost stumbled. She
couldn’t pull her eyes away from the woman’s stare, her rich green eyes seemed
to burn into her very soul and Olga shuddered as evil thoughts filled her head.
She had no idea where they came from but
they occupied her mind until she could think of nothing else.
Suddenly as if
unable to support the overwhelming burden, her legs gave way and she struggled
for breath. The woman looming over her
reached out and placed her hands on top of Olga’s head. She could no longer move and as her eyesight
began to fade the red haired woman seemed to enter her head, her evil grin
devouring her soul and unable to resist, Olga took her final breath.
In the cockpit, Ernst felt the aircraft lurch and his eyes
flew to the instrument panel. The gauge
registering the nose engine’s temperature was dangerously high and it no longer
sounded smooth. Gripping the throttle
handle, he eased it back reducing power to the engine and immediately the noise
began to subside as the engine responded.
Nudging the two remaining throttles forward, he increased the revs to
both wing engines and resumed level flight, he then adjusted the trim wheel to
compensate for the distribution of power before shutting down the ailing engine. As soon as this was done, he opened the
cowling flaps to allow cool air to rush into the engine compartment; this would
help cool the overheated engine before any more damage could be done. Slowly the needle on the temperature gauge
edged away from the danger zone and Ernst sighed with relief, but then another
shudder ran through the aircraft.
Suddenly the port wing rose as it rode an invisible cloud of turbulence
and gripping the control yoke tightly, Ernst was experienced enough not to
fight the aircraft. Feeling for its
movements, he coaxed it gently until the airframe settled down.
“Olga,” he called over the intercom, “I need you here
sister.” His voice was edged with
urgency but there was no response. Ernst
frowned, and thinking the worst wondered if the sudden movement had unbalanced
his sister, maybe she had fallen. If she
was injured, there was nothing he could do to help her, he had to remain at the
controls his hands were full with flying the aircraft.
Glancing worriedly over his shoulder, he could see nothing
beyond the bulkhead separating the cockpit from the cargo hold.
“Where are you Olga?”
He spoke into the intercom again more urgently this time.
Suddenly the starboard engine began to clatter and glancing
at the control panel Ernst turned his head to look out over the wing. Smoke was billowing from the engine cowling,
curling back in dirty black clouds over the wing and he could hardly believe
what he saw. There had been no
indication that the engine was about to fail.
Instinctively he reached for the fire extinguisher switch and once
activated he watched as black smoke turned to grey. Ernst held his breath, the next few seconds
were critical but with a sigh of relief, there were no flames, the extinguisher
had done its job. The temperature gauge
was reading normal and the engine was still running, but he would have to close
the cowling louvres. If there were
sparks around the engine the blast of air moving over it may fan them into
something more serious, however by doing this the engine would soon overheat
just like the first one. All this ran
through his head in a second. Ernst
reduced power to that engine and immediately the propeller began to lose
momentum. He checked his altitude, it
was holding at just under 4000 metres, the peaks below fluctuated between 2000
and 3000 metres, this gave him an operational height of just a 1000 metres. It was a slim margin but if the situation did
not become any worse, he was prepared to live with it. He knew that at some point he might have to
trade altitude for airspeed, but with the engines in their condition increasing
power and trying to climb was out of the question.
He adjusted the inner flap section of the wings, this
effectively lowered the stalling speed and now the aircraft should remain
airborne even if it lost more momentum then, easing forward on the throttle, he
coaxed a little more power out of the remaining good engine. The nose began to creep round so he applied
pressure to the rudder bar to counter the yaw.
He had no idea what was going on, what had caused the
engines to overheat was a mystery; there must be some mechanical anomaly
because none of them were running at full power.
“Olga, I really need you now.” He shouted into the intercom. His heart was hammering inside his chest and his
mouth had gone dry. Tightening his grip
on the yoke, he could feel every vibration running through the aircraft, then without
warning the starboard engine coughed and its propeller seized. Pushing the emergency stop button he shut the
engine down before it could destroy itself and damage the aircraft, then pushing
the throttle on the remaining engine all the way forward the nose slewed
sideways. Using all of his strength, he
fought against the pull and applying more rudder the aircraft began to side
slip. Frantically he searched for
somewhere to land, they would not remain in the air for long, the strain on one
engine alone especially at full power was too much.
The terrain below was mountainous and barren, nothing was
level and he realised there was little hope of getting down in one piece. Turning the dial on the radio, he selected an
emergency channel and began to send out a mayday.
No comments:
Post a Comment