Lost Worlds (21 page)

Natalie shrugged. ‘It makes sense,’ she said. ‘It
does
make sense. There are all these problems in the world that we know about, but there’re all these potential
solutions out there in the world we
don’t
know about. We need to connect them together somehow.’

Gillian smiled, but there was little humour in the smile. ‘Strange – I’ve been waiting for a while to see what it was that was going to snag your attention, apart from shoes
and boys. I thought for a while it was going to be athletics, or swimming, and I had dreams about you competing in the Olympics. But you’ve wrong-footed me. I think you may have found your
vocation, and it’s the last thing I would have predicted.’ She reached out and touched Natalie’s cheek. ‘You’ve surprised me, and you’ve made me strangely proud.
Good on you.’

Natalie found herself suddenly unable to say anything. She felt her cheeks going red, and she had a horrible feeling that there might be tears bubbling up beneath her ice-cold exterior.

‘Don’t worry,’ her mother said. ‘I won’t tell anyone.’

‘This doesn’t mean I’ve gone off shoes,’ Natalie managed to say.

Tara gazed around the bookshop with a smile on her face. ‘Now
this
,’ she said, ‘is more like it.’

Beside her, Gecko sighed. ‘Do we
have
to?’ he asked. Bookshops weren’t really his thing. Shops in general weren’t really his thing.

‘We have to,’ she confirmed. ‘We need maps, and guidebooks, and whatever else we can find.’

‘Haven’t you got a computer for that?’

‘Ever heard of low battery power?’

He watched as she walked up to the cash desk. ‘I’m sorry – do you speak English?’ she asked the girl who looked up at her.

‘I do,’ the girl said with an accent. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I’m looking for maps of Georgia.’

‘City maps?’ the girl asked.

‘No – maps of the area around the Caucasus Mountains.’ She glanced at Gecko. ‘I know Rhino brought some with him,’ she explained, ‘but those were just what he
could find in London in the days before we flew out. I think he called in some favours from army friends of his, but even so, there might be something more detailed locally. You never
know.’

The girl behind the cash desk had been waiting patiently while Tara spoke. ‘We have
some
maps,’ she said carefully, ‘but I do not think they are the kind of thing you
want to take with you if you are camping. They are more like tourist maps. I can recommend a camping shop just a short walk away, yes? They have maps.’

‘Yes, please,’ Tara said gratefully.

‘I will write the name of the place, and how to get there,’ the girl said. She picked up a pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper she’d pulled from beneath the
till.

Gecko got bored, and started looking along the shelves nearest to the till. His gaze skimmed across various covers without stopping until he found a large hardback book with a red cover,
highlighted with golden patterns. It caught his eye, at least in part because it was larger and more colourful than the books around it. Picking it up, he flicked through it. Each page contained a
mass of text in the flowing Georgian script with which he was gradually becoming familiar – script that was almost like artwork in its own right – but there were also illustrations of
men in armour, and animals, and forests. The illustrations were dark, and modern, and quite fantastical.

‘It is called
Knight in a Leopard’s Skin
,’ the girl at the till said, noticing his interest. ‘It is a classical tale in Georgian literature.’ She smiled
shyly. ‘We publish it ourselves. This bookshop is part of Georgia’s largest publishing house.’

‘It is . . . lovely,’ Gecko said, and he meant it.

‘It is quite controversial,’ the girl continued. ‘We chose to make the illustrations modern, rather than . . . how would you say it? . . . antique. A lot of people argued with
us, but the book has sold very well.’

‘If I had any money, I would buy it,’ Gecko said.

She smiled. ‘If I could, I would give you a copy for free.’

Gecko smiled back, unsure what to say. He was saved from embarrassment when his mobile rang. He answered it with an apologetic shrug at the girl behind the till.

‘Yeah, Gecko?’

‘Hi, yeah,’ a voice said, ‘this is Natalie. I’m phoning from the US embassy.’

‘Great,’ said Gecko. ‘I am answering from a bookshop.’

‘Oh. OK. Well, my mother’s been talking to the ambassador, and he’s made some calls and stuff, and he’s come up with the name of a guide here in Tbilisi who’s
familiar with the Caucasus Mountains. His name is Levan Ketsbaia. He speaks good English, charges reasonable rates and can be trusted. Apparently the embassy staff use him from time to time if they
have to leave the city for any reason. I thought you might get in contact with him or something.’

‘Did you try phoning him direct?’ Gecko asked.

‘Eeuw, no!’ Natalie responded. ‘I don’t talk to strangers if I can possibly help it. Besides, it’s more your thing.’

‘OK – text his number through.’

‘I will. Later.’ She rang off, leaving Gecko wondering if she was saying she’d text the number through later or was just indicating that she would see him later. He spoke five
languages, but he found Natalie very difficult to understand. She seemed to have a language all her own.

‘That was Natalie,’ he said to Tara as his phone pinged to indicate an incoming text message. ‘She has got a lead on a possible local guide.’

‘Better pass it on to Rhino. He’ll be better at working out whether a tour guide knows his stuff than we will.’

‘Hey,’ Gecko protested, ‘I know about human nature and stuff. I have knocked around. I can tell whether a man is trustworthy or not!’

‘No offence,’ Tara said, ‘but I think we should leave it to the professionals.’ She held up the piece of paper that the girl behind the till had been working on.
‘Meantime, you and I can go and check out this camping shop. With a bit of luck they’ll have maps of the area, and they might also be able to help fill some of the gaps in our kit that
Rhino couldn’t get hold of back in England before we left.’

‘Kendal Mint Cake,’ Gecko said suddenly as a thought struck him.

‘What?’

‘That stuff you can only get in camping shops. It is like a slab of pure sugar, flavoured with peppermint oil. It is supposed to be some kind of high-energy food supply for hikers, but
there is so much sugar in there that hummingbirds would get hyper on it. I used to love the stuff. I could eat an entire bar in one go.’

Tara looked Gecko up and down. ‘If I did that, it would go straight to my hips and thighs. Where does it go on you?’

‘Charm and charisma,’ he replied with a smile.

Calum sat in darkness, his face lit only by his computer screens.

Six of them were blank – waiting for the streaming video that would be sent back, via satellite, from the cameras on the headbands he’d given the four members of the expedition and
from the visual and infrared sensors of the ARLENE robot. The team was still in Tbilisi, according to the schedule, and he wouldn’t expect them to wear the headbands until they set out for
the Caucasus foothills. They weren’t doing anything in Georgia’s capital city apart from allowing their body clocks time to adjust, finding a guide and picking up whatever items they
needed to complete their supplies. If they wore the camera headbands for that, then they would get some strange looks from the locals. Much as Calum wanted to know what they were doing, what was
happening to them, every second of the day, he knew he had to wait.

It was difficult for him though. He so desperately wanted to be a part of the expedition. He so desperately wanted to be
there
with them.

Maybe, one day, he would be able to. If this expedition, or the next one, or the one after that, was successful.

The seventh screen showed a Google Maps view of Tbilisi with the locations of Rhino, Tara, Gecko and Natalie displayed in different colours. Calum had hacked into their mobile-phone accounts
while they were on the flight and set their phones to send him GPS coordinates every fifteen minutes. He hadn’t told them. He had a suspicion that they would have objected, but he had to know
where they were, just in case something happened. At least, that’s what he told himself.

Tara and Gecko were off in one location, Rhino was a mile or so away from them, and Natalie was across the other side of the city. Her GPS location coincided with that of her mother. When
Gilliam had told him that she was heading to Tbilisi as well, Calum had hacked her phone too. If she was taking an interest in the expedition, then he was going to take an interest in her. He
didn’t want her to know more about what was going on than he did. When and if Rhino managed to employ a guide, Calum was going to have to do the same with his mobile phone – assuming he
had one.

The eighth and ninth screens were running continual search-engine sweeps of the internet, looking for any mentions of the Almasti. If there was any fresh information, then he wanted to know
about it straight away so he could pass it on to the team.

He checked his watch. Four o’clock in the afternoon UK time – or eight o’clock in the evening in Tbilisi. The team was probably making arrangements for dinner. Rhino would
almost certainly take the opportunity to brief them on the plans for the next few days. He and Rhino had agreed that the best thing was for them to head for the village nearest to the location
where the photograph of the possible Almast had been taken. It was as good a starting point as any. The village was called Ruspiri, and it was a small place in the back end of nowhere, occupied by
farmers, hunters and the occasional daring backpacker.

The tenth screen showed a mosaic of photographs of Natalie Livingstone. Some were things he’d found on the internet – high-school yearbook stuff, things from the Facebook and Flickr
accounts of friends, and a few were candid snaps he’d pulled off his security systems from the two occasions she’d visited the apartment. He felt a bit like a stalker, putting the
photographs together and displaying them – no, that wasn’t true, he felt a
lot
like a stalker – but there was something about her that made his heart feel like it was
tearing in two every time he saw her. What
was
it? She wasn’t exactly the kind of girl he usually went for – she was arrogant, shallow and vain – but he couldn’t get
her beautiful tanned skin and her violet eyes out of his mind.

That was another reason why he so desperately wanted to be on the expedition.

He was just reaching forward to type some instructions into his keyboard when the lights went out.

Calum froze. Power cut? Unusual, in the centre of London. Fuse blown in the fuse box? Possible – the warehouse was old, and the wiring wasn’t as up to date as it could be, especially
downstairs in the area where his great-grandfather’s samples and exhibits were stored. He sighed. He supposed that he’d have to go and check, difficult though it might be. The
alternative would be to phone his great-aunt’s chauffeur and general handyman, Mr Macfarlane, and ask him to come over, and Calum would rather cut his own right hand off than do that.

He was just about to turn away from the computer and swing his way towards the door when he heard movement outside. Scuffling at the door. Scratching.

The sound of the lock being forced.

A feeling of disbelief swept over him. His warehouse, his
apartment
, being burgled? While he was
inside
? Unbe
liev
able.

His brain raced, trying to work out what to do, which of the various options that presented themselves would be best. He’d always relied on the security system to deter thieves and
intruders, but with the power off it was no more use than a chocolate teapot. He could call the police, in fact he probably
should
call the police, but it would take them at least ten
minutes to get to him, more if they were busy or thought he was a hoax call. He could phone Mr Macfarlane – the man had hidden depths, and might be able to help – but he was miles away.
And, apart from his great-aunt, everyone else he knew was several hundred miles away in Georgia.

He picked up his mobile phone from beside the keyboard. At least if he phoned the police he’d know that help was on its way.

The words on the screen were brutally plain.
No signal.

He’d always had a mobile-phone signal in the apartment. The intruders were jamming the frequencies, not letting anything in or out.

He was going to have to deal with this himself.

Somehow.

I
t was early the next day that the expedition rolled out of Tbilisi.

Rhino glanced at their driver. Levan Ketsbaia was a burly man with a mass of unruly black hair, thick eyebrows and a few days’ stubble around his cheeks, chin and neck. His eyes were a
faded green, quite startling in his swarthy face, and he had a gold stud in his right earlobe.

Rhino had found Levan in a coffee shop in the centre of Tbilisi. They had arranged a meeting there via phone calls, as Rhino had wanted to spend some time in the man’s company, weigh him
up, look for signs that he was reliable, honest and knowledgeable.

The first thing Rhino noticed as he sat down was that Levan was drinking mineral water. That was a good sign. A man who drank beer or wine at lunchtime was probably not to be trusted. He might
take his own supply of alcohol with him on the expedition, and get drunk at the wrong moment – the wrong moment on an expedition being virtually any moment, of course.

Levan looked up at Rhino. ‘Please, join me.’ He waved at the food in front of him – circles of some doughy substance that filled the plate. ‘Georgian food – please
help yourself. It is bread stuffed with local cheese. People call it “Georgian pizza”.’

Another good sign – Levan wasn’t immediately trying to get Rhino to buy drinks and food for him, even before they had agreed on his fees and terms of employment. That suggested he
wasn’t a chancer, looking to exploit his employers.