The Hunt for Atlantis (31 page)

She fired her thrusters, beginning their ascent. Chase held her belt with one hand, the thumb of the other pressed against the crack in his suit. There was a little digital depth gauge inside his helmet, the number decreasing.

Decreasing too slowly. With his extra weight, Kari’s suit could only manage less than half its top speed.

He struggled to work out how long it would take to reach the surface. At least twenty minutes. Probably more like thirty. And with Kari’s air supply damaged …

“How’s your breathing?” he asked.

“It’s getting harder. The regulator sounds like it’s sticking. I’m not getting a full supply.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Light-headed. And … and a little drowsy.”

The first symptoms of hypoxia, Chase knew. Oxygen starvation. There was no way Kari could stay conscious long enough to get them to the surface. Which meant he would have to work the thruster controls.

Which meant… he would have to take his thumb off the hole in his suit. He’d need both hands to hold onto her—the control stick wasn’t designed to bear a load. If he put all his weight onto it, it would snap, condemning them both.

“Kari,” he said, trying to sound calm as much for his own benefit as for hers, “keep your thumb on that wheel for as long as you can, okay? If you have any trouble, I’ll take over. Don’t worry. We’re going to get to the surface.”

“But if you take the control, won’t you …”

“Don’t worry about me. We’re going to make it. Okay?”

“Okay …” she replied, voice drowsy.

They rose in silence for another few minutes. Chase checked the depth gauge: 650 feet. Still a long way to go.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah.”

She sounded on the verge of falling asleep. “I’m sorry about Hugo. I liked him.”

“I’m sorry too,” he replied, a surge of anger rising inside him. He fought to keep it down. It wouldn’t help. Yet. “I don’t normally do revenge, it’s unprofessional—but Qobras is going to regret it.”

“Good. We’re so close, he can’t stop us …”

“So close to what?” No reply. “Kari?”

The thrusters stopped. Kari’s left hand dropped limply from the control stick.

“Oh, bollocks,” he muttered. Six hundred feet. At that depth, his suit was still under almost twenty atmospheres of pressure. If the crack widened, the water coming in wouldn’t be a trickle. It would be a jet.

But he had no choice.

He swam up, taking hold of Kari’s waist with his aching left hand as he closed the right around her thruster control. The cold dampness inside his suit was spreading. He shivered.

No time for that.

He pushed the control to full power. The thrusters whined to life again, the depth gauge ticking down, foot by agonizing foot. He swam, doing whatever he could to increase their rate of ascent. Despite his training and physical conditioning, he was rapidly tiring, the pressure and cold of the ocean sapping his strength.

Five hundred feet. Still nothing above but darkness. The damp chill spread up his body.

At four hundred feet, the first hint of light from the surface reached him, absolute blackness giving way to a strangely beautiful ink-blue glow from above. More fish appeared as they ascended, flitting past the interlopers with cold-eyed disinterest.

He looked at Kari. Her eyes were closed, and she looked almost serene. Chase couldn’t even tell if she was still breathing. Either her breaths were so shallow he couldn’t make out the tiny movements of her nostrils … or she was already dead.

Two hundred feet, and Chase realized he could see the sun, a brighter patch of light. The depth counter flicked down, one foot at a time …

The thrusters died.

Chase jabbed his thumb harder on the control, hoping the cold had merely numbed him, making his hand slip. It hadn’t. The knurled wheel was pushed as far as it would go.

The deep suits were meant to be used in conjunction with a submersible for descending—and ascending again. They weren’t designed to make the journey on their own.

The batteries were dead.

And they were still over a hundred feet below the surface.

“Buggeration and fuckery …”

He stared at Kari, then shook her, willing her to wake up and help him. Her eyes remained closed. It was all up to him.

He swam with all his remaining strength, pulling Kari with him. She weighed less than ten stones, but the extra bulk of her deep suit meant the effort was like dragging a burly commando, complete with pack, up a ladder.

Ninety feet. Eighty. Seventy.

Each foot on the depth counter took an eternity to traverse. He wanted nothing more than to stop and rest, regain his breath and let the burning in his muscles die away, but he had to get Kari to the surface.

Forty. Thirty.

Flashes of sunlight glinted mockingly against the waves above. But the counter was still falling. Ten feet, nine, eight…

He could feel the swell of the waves, his suit bumping against Kari’s. Five, four … He was gasping for breath now, his muscles about to give up …

Clear!

He broke the surface, blinking at the fat red sun hanging above the horizon. Straining, he pulled Kari up with him. Water streamed down her helmet. Under water it had been impossible to gauge her true color; now, even in the warm sunlight, her skin looked pale and blue.

The suits were closed with multiple clips and locks, meant to be removed with the help of two people, but that wasn’t an option. Chase clawed at the seal around her neck, numbed fingers struggling to unfasten the latches. He wrapped his arm around the helmet, fighting for enough leverage to turn it.

It twisted, the locking pins coming free. He pulled the helmet off and tossed it aside. Kari’s head lolled.

“Kari! Come on, wake up!” Chase patted her cheek, trying to hold her upright so water wouldn’t slosh over the neck of her suit. She needed the kiss of life, but it would be impossible for him to remove his helmet without letting go of her.

“Kari! Come on!”

She took in a sharp breath, then coughed, gasping for air. Her eyelids fluttered. “Eddie?” The word was barely more than a whisper.

“Hey, hey, you’re alive!” said Chase, breaking into a huge smile. “We made it! Are you okay?”

“I feel sick … and I have a really bad headache.”

“But you’re alive, that’s the main thing. Give me a hand, help me get this fucking bucket off my head.” She tugged at his helmet latches. “Aw, shit.”

“What?”

He gave her a defeated look. “It’s not going to matter. We’re still a hundred miles out in the Atlantic, and our ship’s in pieces all over the bottom. It’s a bit too far to swim.”

To his surprise, she smiled. “I don’t think we’ll need to swim.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can see Captain Matthews rowing towards us.”

He looked around. “Well, fuck me.” The lifeboat was a hundred yards away, but Matthews was clearly visible in his white uniform at its prow, waving. “So Qobras left ’em alive …”

“That’s not his style,” said Kari, puzzled but relieved. “Something must have happened; he must—Oh God.” She grabbed Chase’s arm. “Nina! He must have taken Nina!”

“Why would he do that? He wanted her dead—why would he change his mind now?”

“She must know something,” Kari realized. “Some thing we saw in the temple, some piece of information valuable enough to trade for the crew …”

“Well, we can ask ’em in a minute. Come on, get this helmet off.”

“Actually, it’s probably better if you keep it on until you’re in the boat.”

Chase frowned at her. “Why?”

“Because I get the feeling your suit radio is the only one we have…”

Five minutes later, Chase finally took a breath of fresh ocean air.

Kari was right: the Evenor’s crew had been set adrift with no radio. Once the lifeboat rejoined its fellows on the fringe of the debris field from the sunken research vessel, one of the engineers set to work on the deep suit’s transmitter. It wouldn’t have much range, but it didn’t need it. The Gulf of Cádiz was, by maritime standards, a busy place. However, as Matthews pointed out, they couldn’t use it just yet—there would be no point issuing a distress call if the closest vessel was Qobras’s ship.

Chase and Kari used the interim to learn what had happened aboard the Evenor. “So Nina voluntarily gave herself up to save you?” Kari asked.

Matthews nodded. “Even though Qobras told her he was still going to kill her. We all owe her our lives.”

Kari fell silent, staring pensively towards the sunset. Chase put an arm around her. “Hey, hey. She’s still alive, for now. Whatever she knows, she won’t have just blurted it right out to him. She’ll drag it out for as long as she can. We can still find her.”

“How?” Kari asked gloomily. “Even if we trace his ship back to port, he won’t be on it. He’ll have been picked up by a helicopter or gone ashore in a speedboat long before we can get anyone to intercept it.”

“We’ll work something out.” Chase leaned back, looking up. The first stars of the night had appeared, twinkling gently in the clear sky.

“Actually,” said Matthews, “Dr. Wilde had a message, although I’ve got no idea what it means. She said to give it to you if I saw you.”

Chase sat up again. “What did she say?” “Not much. Just that… she’d send you a postcard.” “A postcard?” Kari’s forehead creased, questioning. Her confusion increased as Chase started laughing, a cackle of sheer glee. “What? What does it mean?”

He managed to bring himself under control, a wide grin practically splitting his face in two. “It means,” he announced, “that I know exactly where she’s going.”

Tibet

The sun had not yet risen over the Himalayan peaks, but Nina could see the predawn glow to the east as the helicopter clattered through the mountains.

She sat under guard in the rear compartment of the aircraft, an armed man on either side. Opposite were Qobras, Starkman and Philby. Her former mentor hadn’t once dared to meet her gaze during the flight.

Following them, she knew, was a second helicopter carrying more men and something concealed inside a large crate. She doubted it was anything good.

“Go on,” prompted Qobras. “You were saying about the eruption …”

“Yeah.” The image of the final inscriptions from the temple returned to her mind’s eye. “The island was subsiding, and the volcano at the northern end was active—they knew the writing was on the wall. I don’t think they realized how fast the end would come when it finally happened.”

“Not fast enough,” said Qobras. “Some of them escaped.”

Nina shook her head. “You really do have some serious issues with the Atlanteans, don’t you? Considering that their empire was destroyed eleven thousand years ago, it’s a long time to be holding a grudge.”

“Their empire was never completely destroyed, Dr. Wilde,” Qobras said. “It still exists, even today.”

“Oh, this would be the mighty and invisible Atlantean empire, I guess.”

Qobras ignored her sarcasm. “If you mean ‘invisible’ in the sense that nobody knows it is there, then yes, you’re right. The descendants of the Atlanteans are still among us, seeking control over those they believe to be their inferiors. The difference now is that their control is not solely through force of arms, but through force of wealth.”

“Sounds like we’re in conspiracy theory territory now,” Nina scoffed. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that the Atlanteans are really the Illuminati.”

“Hardly. We are the Illuminati.”

Nina stared in disbelief. “What?”

“Not in the sense that I’m sure you’re imagining. Our organization dates back to long before any of the sects that adopted the name from the sixteenth century onwards. And the name, Illuminati, is derived from Latin, whereas our name comes from the ancient Greek. The Brotherhood of Selasphoros—the light-bearers.”

“Ancient Greek?” Nina turned to Philby for some support against the lunacy, but while he still couldn’t look her in the eye, there was nothing in his expression suggesting he doubted Qobras’s words. “So you’re saying you’re the leader of some secret anti-Atlantis organization that dates back two and a half thousand years? Bullshit!”

“It dates back much farther than that,” said Qobras, unfazed. “I’m sure you remember Critias—the mention of the war between the Athenians and the kings of Atlantis?”

“Of course. ‘The war that was said to have taken place between those who dwelt outside the Pillars of Heracles, and all who dwelt within them.’ But that’s the only mention, apart from a few lines in Timaeus.”

Qobras shook his head. “No. There is more.”

“Critias was never finished.”

“Critias was suppressed,” Qobras countered. “By the Brotherhood. The complete text included an account of the war between the two great powers, and how the Athenians and their allies drove the invaders from the Mediterranean. It also described the Athenian counterattack on Atlantis itself—which ended with the Athenian army caught on the island as it sank.”

“That’s not consistent with Timaeus,” Nina objected. “‘And in a single day and night of misfortune all your warlike men as a body sank into the earth, and the island of Atlantis in like manner disappeared in the depths of the sea.’ Two different events.”

“The same event, according to the original text of Critias.”

“But that—” Nina stopped as the full import of Qobras’s words hit her. “You mean the original text? As in, transcribed directly from Plato’s own words?”

“We have more than you could imagine in our vaults, including the complete text of Critias—and the third of Plato’s dialogues about Atlantis, Hermocrates.”

“But Hermocrates was never written …”

“So we convinced the world. The Brotherhood has been working to prevent the rediscovery of Atlantis for thousands of years. Anything that might assist the descendants of the Atlanteans in that task, we have gone to great lengths to keep out of their hands.”

“Great lengths including murder,” Nina scowled.

“It is not something we are proud of, but sometimes it has been necessary. Other times… it has been justified.”

“But why?” Nina asked. “This is insane! Yes, Atlantis is one of the most famous ancient legends in the world, but in the end it’s just an archaeological site, a dead city full of ruins!”

Qobras rose in his seat. “The city might be dead, but what it stands for is very much alive, Dr. Wilde. And it is just as dangerous today as it was in 9500 BC. The discovery of Atlantis would serve to rally all the descendants of the Atlanteans, uniting them as one powerful force for evil.”

“Atlantis has already been discovered,” Nina pointed out. “By me. And everybody from the Evenor knows where it is. You think you can keep that quiet?”

“The site may have been discovered, but the knowledge it contained has been destroyed. And the Brotherhood has influence in many areas.” He glanced at Philby. “We can keep the academic world distracted, certainly.”

“So that’s why you turned down my proposal, Jonathan?” Nina asked. “You were in this guy’s pocket the whole time?”

“I was trying to protect you,” Philby replied. “I didn’t know if your theory would bear any fruit or not. But I couldn’t take the risk that it would. I didn’t know they would try to kill you right there in Manhattan to suppress it, you have to believe me! I never wanted you to get hurt!”

“I’m so grateful for your concern.” Philby avoided her eyes, shamefaced.

“As for those others who might take an interest,” Qobras continued, “there are ways in which we can divert their attention. But now it may no longer even be necessary. If you are telling the truth about the last outpost of the original Atlanteans, then we can destroy that too. With the last link gone, their descendants will never be able to unite to begin a new war of conquest.”

“The Frosts are hardly warmongers,” protested Nina. “Unless you count philanthropy as a WMD?”

Qobras let out a harsh laugh. “Philanthropy? Hardly! Everything Kristian Frost has done is in support of his ultimate goal, the restoration of Atlantean rule under his leadership. Spending millions on medical aid is just a means to that end. Do you really think the Frost Foundation’s work is about helping the sick?”

“Then what is it about?”

“Kristian Frost has been using the Frost Foundation’s medical projects as a cover to map out the worldwide distribution of the Atlantean genome, finding the people who share his DNA,” said Qobras. “People like you. Yes, we know about the DNA test the Frosts carried out on you. We also know that over the last decade, he has devoted an enormous amount of money and resources to finding Atlantis—far more than he has revealed publicly, or, I suspect, to you. You are not the first person with a theory on the location of Atlantis whose expedition he has funded.”

“Did you try to kill them too?” Qobras’s look was the only answer she needed. “Oh God.”

“As I said, we are not proud of the fact, but it had to be done. Yet despite that, because of you … the Frosts are building to the culmination of their plan.”

“And what plan would that be, exactly?”

“We don’t know the precise details. None of our operatives have been able to penetrate Frost’s organization deeply enough to discover his true objective. But we have learned enough to know that his plan hinges upon not merely the discovery of Atlantis, but the recovery of certain Atlantean artifacts. But the Brotherhood is about to ensure that never happens.” He gestured at the window. “We are approaching the Golden Peak.”

Looking out, Nina saw the first light of the morning sun as it rose over the rugged silhouette of the Himalayas …

And to the west, the pinnacle of the middle of three peaks lit up with a dazzling orange glow, as if the tip of the mountain had burst into flame. Even the streaks of bare rock visible through the pure white snowcap seemed to be on fire, sunlight glinting from slender veins of gold within the cold stone.

“My God,” she whispered.

“The Golden Peak,” said Qobras. “A local legend, which supposedly hid a great treasure. The Ahnenerbe believed it was connected to Atlantis. As did your parents.”

Nina looked sharply at him at the mention of her family, but Qobras had turned away to issue instructions to the pilot. The helicopter descended, sweeping towards the mountain. It landed on a broad snow-covered ledge.

“The Path of the Moon,” Qobras announced as he climbed from the helicopter, his feet crunching in the snow. “I never imagined I would see this place again.”

Nina pulled her coat tightly around herself as she stepped out after him, her ever-present guards following. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yes, but I thought there was nothing of value here. It seems I was wrong.” He put a hand on Philby’s shoulder. “Perhaps you and I should have spent more time here. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“You’ve been here as well?” Nina asked Philby. He made a vague, almost fearful sound of confirmation.

“He was here with your parents,” said Qobras. Nina gaped at him, shocked.

“Giovanni, don’t, please,” Philby pleaded. “There’s no need to …”

Qobras gave him a stern look. “I’ve done many things I am not proud of, but I will admit my part in them. You should do the same … Jack.”

“Jonathan?” Nina strode up to him, no longer caring about her guards. “What does he mean? Did my parents come here? What do you know?”

He tried to turn away. “I… Nina, I’m sorry, I…”

She grabbed him by his coat. “What do you know, Jonathan?”

“Come this way, Dr. Wilde,” said Qobras, pointing up the slope. Starkman pulled her away from Philby. Despite the cold, the professor was sweating.

The group trudged uphill, the second helicopter announcing its arrival with a biting spray of ice particles as it landed behind them. Qobras led the way, examining the rock face intently as he ascended. At last, he stopped.

“There,” he said. Nina looked where he was indicating. At first she saw nothing but snow and barren rock, the strata twisted to the vertical by eons of geological pressure, but upon closer inspection she spotted a patch of darkness against the cold blue-gray of the mountain.

A crack in the rock, an opening …

“Kind of a tight squeeze,” noted Starkman. At its widest, the crack was less than a foot across.

“There must have been another rock slide. Have the men bring the digging equipment.”

Starkman issued the order. Within minutes, another ten men arrived from the second helicopter. They set to work tearing into the pile of loose stones beneath the snow with picks. Before long the opening was clear enough to allow passage, but Qobras ordered his men to keep digging. “We need it wide enough to fit the bomb through.”

“Bomb?” gasped Nina. “What bomb?”

He shot her an almost impatient look. “This is not an archaeological expedition, Dr. Wilde. We came here to destroy the last link to Atlantis. Whatever lies inside this mountain, nobody else will ever see it.”

“You’re worse than the Taliban,” she growled. “They destroyed priceless artifacts out of dogma. You’re doing it for a conspiracy theory!”

“A conspiracy that I’m happy to say will end here. Once the last outpost is destroyed, every trace of the ancient Atlanteans will be gone forever.”

“So then what? You going to retire to the Bahamas? Or are you just going to keep on killing people you don’t like because of their DNA?” Qobras didn’t answer, looking back at the widening opening.

After another five minutes of activity, he finally seemed satisfied. “Bring the bomb,” he ordered. “We’re going inside.”

His men headed back to the helicopters as Qobras led the way into the cave, followed by Starkman and Philby. Nina came next, her two guards flanking her. Powerful flashlight beams flitted through the dark space. To Nina, it looked as though a natural cavern had been widened to form a passage leading into the mountain.

“Over here,” said Starkman, aiming his light off to one side. Nina gasped in surprise when she saw what he had found.

Bodies.

Five desiccated corpses stared silently back, their skin shriveled and reduced to parchment. The way they were sitting, in a row against one side of the cave, suggested to Nina that they had succumbed to starvation or exposure—but it also appeared that somebody had searched them after their death.

“The fourth expedition of the Ahnenerbe,” said Qobras grimly. “Jürgen Krauss and his men. They followed the path from Morocco to Brazil, and finally to Tibet.”

“The fourth expedition?” asked Nina. “There were only three.”

“Only three that were recorded. At least, in known records. There were other documents.” His tone became somber. “Your father came into possession of some of them. They were what led him first to Tibet, in search of the Golden Peak … and then to here.”

“Here?” said Nina, puzzled … but also with a growing sense of awful foreboding.

“This way.” Qobras directed his flashlight down the passage at the rear of the chamber, nodding at Starkman to bring Nina. Philby hung back, his face filled with fear.

And something else, Nina realized.

Guilt?

She followed Qobras down the passage. His light illuminated what lay at the end of the passage.

It was a tomb, an Atlantean tomb; the aggressive architecture and Glozel inscriptions were unmistakable. That realization, though, became insignificant when Nina saw what else was within the chamber.

More bodies.

But unlike the corpses of the Nazi expedition, these had not died peacefully. They lay against the walls in twisted, frozen poses of agony. She saw pockmarks in the stone behind them: bullet holes, surrounded by faded brown splashes that could only be long-dried blood.

And among the faces of the dead were …

Nina raised her hands to her mouth. “No …” she whispered. Qobras looked back at her, then gestured to Starkman, who pulled her forward. She resisted, only for him to drag her.