Read Online Send Simon Savage #1 by Stephen Measday - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Measday
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business.’
O’Bray bowed his head slightly. ‘You wish to launch another gold-seeking operation?’
‘A big one,’ the Chieftain said. ‘Winter’s coming, and power from the nuclear station will cost us more. Also, the Tribunes are fond of their large and regular payments from my treasury. We need to get hold of as much gold as we can to last through the colder months, and into next year. What have you discovered?’
O’Bray had access to the library archives in Old City—access that cost them plenty of gold. ‘There are two major prospects,’ he said after a moment. ‘The United States Federal Gold Reserve in the twenty-first century. And there’s a shipwrecked Portuguese treasure ship in the sixteenth century.’
‘The Gold Reserve—what are our chances there?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘The gold there is worth a fortune, boss,’ O’Bray replied, ‘but from what I can discover, it’s kept in very strong vaults with extremely high security.’
‘Could we send a timeline into the building?’
‘It’s possible, but we would need reconnaissance,’ O’Bray said. ‘We’d need to check out the whole set-up first.’
The Chieftain frowned. ‘Risky. And I don’t want to lose another kid. Good ones are hard enough to find and train as it is.’ He thought a moment. ‘And the ship?’
‘It was wrecked off the coast of Sumatra in 1515,’ O’Bray said, ‘carrying looted treasure from Malacca. Gold bars, coins, statuettes. A couple of tonnes at least, is my estimate.’
‘The exact location?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘Washed up on a beach. There is a tiny fishing village a kilometre or two along the coast, but no other inhabitants.’
‘An easy in-and-out for our team, then?’
‘Yes,’ O’Bray agreed. ‘If we pick the right time—and the right weather.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the Chieftain said. ‘Meanwhile, you can do something else for me.’
‘Of course, boss, anything.’
The Chieftain picked up his knife and fork. ‘Pass that mustard, will you? Steak’s nothing without the bite of extra-hot mustard.’
The tunnel reeked of sewage and chemical waste. Damien crept along a narrow path at the side of a thick stream of stinking swill that flowed out of the city. He was breathing hard and sweating and was glad to be nearing the end. With only fifty metres to go, he could see the steel grid at the tunnel mouth ahead and a glimpse of light beyond.
Damien reached the grid and took a gulp of fresh air. The well-worn nuts and bolts keeping the grid in place had been loosened many times. It took only a minute to remove them and to swing the grid inward on its hinges.
He crept cautiously out of the tunnel and crawled up a narrow embankment. The ten-metre-high stone wall that surrounded the city was now immediately behind him. The sewerage tunnel was the only way of getting into the city from the forest without being checked by guards. It was a route that no one but the poor and the desperate could bring themselves to use.
Damien crouched and waited for a few seconds at the top of the embankment. There was an open space between the wall and the first houses, and guards regularly patrolled the wall. Damien had to be watchful. To be caught here, and to give away the secret uses of the tunnel, would be a disaster. Without the tunnel, Damien would most likely never see his father again.
The way was clear, so Damien dashed across the open space and into a dirty alley between a row of unpainted wooden houses. He stopped at one of the doors, glanced up and down the street and knocked four times.
‘Trip you up!’ said a man’s voice.
‘Only if you catch me,’ Damien murmured. These were lines from a game he had once played with his sisters.
The door opened and a bear-like man appeared in the frame. ‘Out of the street—quick!’ he said.
Damien slipped inside and the door closed silently behind him. The welcoming hand of his father gripped his shoulder. ‘Damien, good
O’Bray bowed his head slightly. ‘You wish to launch another gold-seeking operation?’
‘A big one,’ the Chieftain said. ‘Winter’s coming, and power from the nuclear station will cost us more. Also, the Tribunes are fond of their large and regular payments from my treasury. We need to get hold of as much gold as we can to last through the colder months, and into next year. What have you discovered?’
O’Bray had access to the library archives in Old City—access that cost them plenty of gold. ‘There are two major prospects,’ he said after a moment. ‘The United States Federal Gold Reserve in the twenty-first century. And there’s a shipwrecked Portuguese treasure ship in the sixteenth century.’
‘The Gold Reserve—what are our chances there?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘The gold there is worth a fortune, boss,’ O’Bray replied, ‘but from what I can discover, it’s kept in very strong vaults with extremely high security.’
‘Could we send a timeline into the building?’
‘It’s possible, but we would need reconnaissance,’ O’Bray said. ‘We’d need to check out the whole set-up first.’
The Chieftain frowned. ‘Risky. And I don’t want to lose another kid. Good ones are hard enough to find and train as it is.’ He thought a moment. ‘And the ship?’
‘It was wrecked off the coast of Sumatra in 1515,’ O’Bray said, ‘carrying looted treasure from Malacca. Gold bars, coins, statuettes. A couple of tonnes at least, is my estimate.’
‘The exact location?’ the Chieftain asked.
‘Washed up on a beach. There is a tiny fishing village a kilometre or two along the coast, but no other inhabitants.’
‘An easy in-and-out for our team, then?’
‘Yes,’ O’Bray agreed. ‘If we pick the right time—and the right weather.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ the Chieftain said. ‘Meanwhile, you can do something else for me.’
‘Of course, boss, anything.’
The Chieftain picked up his knife and fork. ‘Pass that mustard, will you? Steak’s nothing without the bite of extra-hot mustard.’
The tunnel reeked of sewage and chemical waste. Damien crept along a narrow path at the side of a thick stream of stinking swill that flowed out of the city. He was breathing hard and sweating and was glad to be nearing the end. With only fifty metres to go, he could see the steel grid at the tunnel mouth ahead and a glimpse of light beyond.
Damien reached the grid and took a gulp of fresh air. The well-worn nuts and bolts keeping the grid in place had been loosened many times. It took only a minute to remove them and to swing the grid inward on its hinges.
He crept cautiously out of the tunnel and crawled up a narrow embankment. The ten-metre-high stone wall that surrounded the city was now immediately behind him. The sewerage tunnel was the only way of getting into the city from the forest without being checked by guards. It was a route that no one but the poor and the desperate could bring themselves to use.
Damien crouched and waited for a few seconds at the top of the embankment. There was an open space between the wall and the first houses, and guards regularly patrolled the wall. Damien had to be watchful. To be caught here, and to give away the secret uses of the tunnel, would be a disaster. Without the tunnel, Damien would most likely never see his father again.
The way was clear, so Damien dashed across the open space and into a dirty alley between a row of unpainted wooden houses. He stopped at one of the doors, glanced up and down the street and knocked four times.
‘Trip you up!’ said a man’s voice.
‘Only if you catch me,’ Damien murmured. These were lines from a game he had once played with his sisters.
The door opened and a bear-like man appeared in the frame. ‘Out of the street—quick!’ he said.
Damien slipped inside and the door closed silently behind him. The welcoming hand of his father gripped his shoulder. ‘Damien, good
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