Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) (12 page)

Sam looked around
the rest of the vast room in frustration.

“None of this
helps us find Atlantis so we can rescue Billie.”

“Don’t forget
working out how to stop Atlantis from activating and killing us all!” Tom
reminded him.

“Yeah, there’s
that too.”

“Okay, so let’s
break this down.  Billie tells me that this isn’t the first time you
investigated the Master Builders. So, what’s your process?”

Sam began to list
them. “Okay, I need to scan as many of these images onto the computer as we can
and let the computer identify any references to the location of Atlantis. They
only recently left, which means they found what they were looking for. So they
either got really lucky, or it’s obvious.”

“Okay, I’ll get
started.”

Within ten
minutes Tom called out to him.

“Look at that!”

The ceiling was
destroyed. Someone had intentionally blown up that section of the roof. Around
a dozen circular ‘files” were lost.

“There must have
been something important there, which whoever has Billie doesn’t want us to
find out.”

“Now what the
hell do we do?”

“We need to keep
looking. Billie’s smarter than the two of us put together. She knows that this
is the only lead we have on Atlantis, so she wouldn’t risk losing us by leaving
without some way of letting us follow.”

It was more than
two hours before they found the next clue.

Sam stared at the
ceiling. His neck was starting to ache from the hours of looking upwards. Inside
an area of blank circles, a new text had been written. Instead of being
chiseled into the ceiling like the others, it was written with a cheap
fluorescent permanent marker.

It was written in
the language of the Master Builders.

Dear Sam,

You will find
answers at these coordinates. There is another temple of Atlantis.

I will try to
stall them as long as I can.

At the end of the
note, she had left a set of GPS coordinates.

“Okay, it’s time
to go,” Sam said.

“Where?”

Sam put the
coordinates into his computer and replied, “Siberia.”

“What’s in
Siberia?”

“According to Billie,
Atlantis.”

“It’s in Siberia.
How did Billie work that out from the notes we found in the sunken pyramid in
the Gulf of Mexico?”

“How the hell
should I know? But she’s left the GPS coordinates, so we better head off so we
can beat them to it.”

Sam turned to
head for the entrance of the cavern, but something stopped him. He looked at
the pile of orichalcum. A fortune left in the ancient library. It would be
worthless in a few weeks if he couldn’t solve the puzzle.

Below them, the
ground shook with the vibrations of a sound coming from outside.

“Can you hear
that?” Sam asked.

“Sounds like the
roar of thunder.”

Sam looked to the
edge of the opening, where the Sherpas had started to scatter.

“Do you think
it’s an avalanche?” Tom suggested.

Sam listened more
intensely to the sound for a moment. “That’s crazy. It doesn’t sound anything
like an avalanche. Those are clearly helicopter rotors. Given our high altitude,
I’d say they come from a pair of B3 Eurocopters.”

“Which means
someone’s followed us!”

Andrew Brandt
watched the two Sherpas, the mountain goats of the Himalayas, scatter, leaving
their equipment where they were on the mountain side.

“I don’t see them,”
he said to the pilot.

“Keep looking.
Those Sherpas weren’t going for a climbing holiday on their own,” Dmitri
replied. “Those were the two I left looking after Sam Reilly. They must have
entered the temple.”

The two men
scanned the mountain.

“There!” Dmitri
said. “Look at that overhanging rock. It must have an opening – there are
footprints in the snow leading into it.”

“If they’ve gone
in, they must come back out. Just hover here for a few minutes.”

“I can’t stay
long at this altitude,” Dmitri said.

“All right. We
can’t wait all day. Everyone off. We’re going in to get them.”

One by one, they
dropped off the helicopter’s skids while the pilot hovered, and onto the thick
snow on the mountain three feet below them, followed by the soldiers in the
second helicopter. He wanted to take no chances. He’d heard of Sam and his
friend’s reputation as excellent fighters. There was no way he wanted this to
be a fair fight. And for that, he needed to outnumber them.

He looked at the
leader of his commando team. “Aiden. Take three men and get me a reconnaissance
of that entry. If you find resistance, take cover and hold your position.”

“Understood.”

The three-man
team quietly entered the secret opening to the Atlantean temple.

Minutes later the
opening turned to rubble along with the sound of a loud explosion. Andrew
jammed his ice axe into the mountainside and took cover in the snow. Twenty
feet away, the two helicopters, concerned about avalanches, quickly backed away
from the face of the mountain.

Snow fell, but no
avalanche followed.

Seconds later,
Andrew heard the sound of machine gun fire. But he couldn’t tell whether it was
coming from his own commandos or someone else.

Aiden returned, blood
dripping from the back of his head and burns to his face.

“They fucking have
the place booby-trapped!” Aiden swore.

“We need to storm
that temple. What have we got when we enter?”

“You have a hole
that is completely dark. A cavern that echoes, which suggests that it’s quite
large. I didn’t see them, but they must have seen us, because they killed
Frankie and Mitchell. Then the next thing I know they’re using an AK47 on me,
probably stolen from my own men!”

“What do you need
to extract them?”

“Alive?”

“Yes. At least
one of them. Preferably Sam Reilly, but his friend must know something.”

“We’d need a
miracle. We can do it, but it’s going to cost us in men.”

Andrew looked at
his men, checking their weapons. “Okay, do it.”

One of his
soldiers passed him a cell phone. He really hated the damn technology.

“Tell them I’m
busy.”

“I think you’re
gonna want to take this one boss. He says that he has Dr. Billie Swan.”

Andrew looked at
his commando. The man was serious. Andrew reached out and snatched the cell
phone.

“Andrew
speaking.”

“Morning, boss.”

“I thought you
were dead. Actually, when you lost the girl, and then stopped answering my
calls, I kind of hoped you were dead, for your sake.”

“Let’s just say
I’ve been busy. But all will be forgiven once you hear what I have for you.”

“What have you
got for me?”

“Dr. Billie Swan.
And half of the Code to Atlantis.”

“Christ. I
thought she’d deciphered the damn thing. What the hell good is half of the
code?”

“None, but she’s
about to retrieve the second half. It was apparently broken up into two
separate codes, and then stored in two Atlantean temples to protect it.”

“Do you know
where the second one is?”

“Congo. Somewhere
in the Heart of Darkness.”

Andrew signaled
to one of his soldiers for a pen and paper. “Do you know where exactly?”

“No, but I’m
still part of the team. I’ll let you know once they’ve found it.”

“Good. Let them
solve the mysteries of the second Atlantean temple. Better they risk their
lives than me. Once you have answers, send me your coordinates, and we’ll bring
a retrieval team in to get the rest of the code.”

Andrew passed the
cell phone back, a giant smile on his sinister face.

“What you smiling
at?” Aiden said.

“Because we no
longer have any reason to keep Sam Reilly and his companion alive.”

Sam quickly
studied the back of the Atlantean temple.

All the tunnels
seemed to have reached an end. And there was little that either of them could
do to maintain their position against the significantly more powerful team of
mercenaries after them.

Turning to
examine the final cavern, Sam said, “We know Billie was here before us. There
was no one else on the face of the mountain when we climbed it. We must have
only just missed her?”

Tom pulled his
Glock out and prepared to fire at anyone who came through the cavern. “Possibly,
but sorry to say this pal, I don’t think she’s coming back to save our asses.”

“No, it’s not
that. She must have been here in the last day or two. And yet, we didn’t see
her or whoever has her leave, which means…”

Tom smiled.
Realization dawning on him. “The people outside aren’t the ones who took her?”

“The thought’s
crossed my mind, but I don’t think so. I think she beat us all to it, and that
whoever’s outside is also searching for Atlantis. And if they didn’t find
Billie, that means there’s definitely another exit!”

“Of course!” Tom
Said “When I read Plato’s ancient Critias Dialogue, it noted that the
Atlanteans built rings within rings of defensive structures so that retreat was
possible. It was one of the reasons Billie believed that Amsterdam was related
to the descendants of Atlantis. We know that’s not true now, but one thing’s
for certain – if the survivors of Atlantis built this place, as an archive to
their history, then they must have built in an escape tunnel.”

 Several shots
raked the walls of the cavern behind them.

Sam looked up to
see that the first soldiers were entering the far side of the cave. “That’s
great. But if you’re right, we’d better find it soon, because whoever the
hell’s trying to come in here, they don’t sound like they’re friendly.”

Sam started to
quickly examine the walls, pressing rocks, pulling on things, and then he saw
it. A slight change in the sand.  “Look at that. It’s as though someone has
recently dragged something along the sand. Help me dig this up.”

Tom dug his
climbing pick into the sand and caught something solid. He struck it again, and
again. On the third attempt, the head of his climbing pick caught. Using the
back of the handle, he was able to lever the entire rock structure out, and
pull it to the side of the cavern.

Revealing a black
abyss.

The air that now
flowed upwards towards them was warm.

“What do you
think?”

“It’s a priest
hole.”

“What the hell’s
a priest hole?”

“An escape route,
built into the original design of the cave system.”

A small metallic
device on tractor wheels slowly entered the room. Like a sinister robot, the
machine drove toward them.

“What’s that?”

“Some sort of
Remote Controlled Vehicle. They’re finding exactly where we’re hiding!”

Sam looked down
the hole. It went straight down. A strong draft flowed from below when he
opened it, suggesting that it opened to the outside world, somewhere.

“What do you
think?”

“I think it’s
just as likely to drop us off the cliff somewhere. Maybe an ancient privy?”

The distinct
sound of several grenades being thrown into the cavern stopped their
conversation.

“I’d say it’s our
best chance,” Sam said.

And then dropped –
into the darkness below.

Congo
Rainforest – Two Weeks Remaining

The Andre Sephora
was a 120-foot custom built Millennium Superyacht. Powered by three Vericor
TF50 gas turbines, its triple Rolls-Royce Kamewa water jets allowed the
luxurious vessel to cruise at sustained speeds of up to 60 knots along the
Congo River. It wasn’t the fastest superyacht in existence, but it was by far
the quickest equipped with military grade armor plating and an automated
defense system, operating four separate Gatling guns and one antiaircraft
rocket launcher.

The Congo River
is the second largest river in the world after the Amazon. Inhabited by humans
for more than fifty thousand years, the Congo Basin spans across six
countries—Cameroon, Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo,
Republic of the Congo, Equatorial Guinea and Gabon. The Congo, a place of
brutality and violence for its past – the days of the Arab slave and ivory
trade, its long history of tribal warfare, and its present – the ethnic
violence and massacres of today. The Congo has suffered horribly throughout its
history, and due to generations of foreign exploitation, political instability,
corruption and civil war, not to mention a prevalence of crocodiles, hippos,
waterfalls and huge rapids, the river seems to have been given a wide berth by Westerners.
Subsequently, few archeological expeditions have ever ventured deep into its rainforest.

The entire Congo
basin is populated by Bantu peoples, divided into several hundred ethnic or
tribal groups. Bantu expansion is estimated to have reached the Middle Congo by
about 500 BC, and the Upper Congo by the beginning of the Common Era. Remnants
of the aboriginal population displaced by the Bantu migration remain in the
remote forest areas of the Congo basin. The oldest of all of these are the pygmies,
the most ancient hunter gatherers of the Congo rainforest. No one knows for
certain how many remain, as their ancient way of life allows them to survive in
otherwise inaccessible areas of the remote jungle. This has permitted many of
their tribes to live in secret, away from westernized ideologies.

It was the pygmies,
the most ancient of these hunter gathers, who most interested Dr. Billie Swan.
Based on the markings on the roof of the Tibetan Atlantean temple, one such
group of pygmies held the key to the remaining half of the code to Atlantis.

The Mankan pygmies
were said to be the most ancient, ruthless, and powerful in all of Africa,
having inhabited the region for more than fifty thousand years. If anyone
witnessed the coming of the people of Atlantis eleven thousand years ago, it
would have been them.

Made inaccessible
by thick rainforest and deep swamps, vast areas of the Congo remain unexplored,
with some areas so remote that no maps exist. As a result, the area has been a
breeding ground for myth and superstition, with local pygmy tribes telling of a
mysterious tribe called the Mankan. Isolation from the outside world was so
important to the Mankan people, that legend had it if anyone was caught finding
them, they would be killed so as not to reveal their home.

The only problem
being, with the exception of the notes within the Atlantean temple, there were
no record of the tribe ever existing. Which meant, either they no longer
survived, or lived in an area of the Congo Rainforest so remote and in such
small numbers, that no Westerner had ever laid eyes on them.

Finding them was
a long shot, but it was the only one that remained for Billie.

As the Andre
Sephora passed through the mosaic of rivers, forests, savannas, swamps and
flooded forests, Dr. Swan was amazed to discover just how vast the Congo Basin
was. She’d read it described as the equivalent of navigating the Sahara Desert
prior to GPS. As she passed the hundreds of islands, tributaries, and water
based villages, she imagined it was easy to become disoriented and lost forever
inside its labyrinth.

The river, along
with the deep, thick vegetation of the jungle that lined the bank of the river,
was teeming with life. The heavyset and somber eyes of gorillas often stared
back at her when she stared at the jungle. Buffalo ran wild, and elephants carefully
nestled on the banks of the river.

They were
approaching the most remote section of the Congo Basin – the entrance to the
Luvua River, and outlet of Lake Mweru. As they came around the latest bend in
the river, Billie almost gasped when she saw the evidence of the river’s
greatest predator – man.

Peppered with
waterfalls and rapids, the entrance to the upper river was guarded by abandoned
T-62 tanks, littering the hillside by Pweto.

The Andre Sephora
slowed to a near stop.

The Luvua
landscape was unique. Golden colored grass covered the surrounding hills,
dotted with occasional abandoned huts built from volcanic-like rock. Large
trees seemed to be covered by giant sheets of white silk blowing in the wind –
in fact they were gargantuan house-sized spider webs.

Dr. Swan noticed
the three dismembered heads on spikes that littered the bank of the river. They
were approaching the most remote traversable section of the river and would
soon have to leave the safety of the river and go on foot.

The skipper of
the Andre Sephora, Jason Faulkner – a South African who’d made his fortune
guiding the ultra-rich through unique African jungle hunting experiences – cautiously
slowed the vessel, and moved it toward the southern river bank. There, he
examined his most recent map. It was an aerial photograph taken that morning,
depicting a section of the river where a route further upriver might just be
possible. The river, he knew, was alive, and as such was constantly changing
its shape. What was navigable today might not be tomorrow and vice versa.

Dr. Swan watched
as the skipper approached a set of rapids. The difference in height of the
river was no more than five feet, but it was enough to make it appear
impassable to a vessel their size. With the bow of the Andre Sephora pointing
directly upriver, she could see two sets of rapids. White and angry water
flowed to the left and to the right. At the center, between the two, appeared
one constant large rapid. The water was relatively clear, and she could see the
bottom was no more than a few feet deep. Much less than the seven-foot draft of
the Andre Sephora.

“Is this as far
as we can go, Mr. Faulkner?” Edward asked.

Jason picked up
the vessel’s radio and spoke quickly in Swahili, the fast monotone language of
the Bantu people, and then looked toward Edward. “I wouldn’t worry sir. I have
taken care of it.”

Edward stared at
the violent opening in the river’s entrance. Wedged between two islands, the
water appeared angry as it competed to squeeze through the narrow entrance.
“Really! You’re planning on lightening the load, and reducing our draft?”

“No. I’m certain
your entire inventory of cargo is important to you. I wouldn’t dare consider forcing
you, as a paying customer, to offload anything.”

“How the hell do
you expect to pass that then?” Edward asked.

Jason grinned -- a
smile that reeked of a lifetime of corruption. “I’m planning on raising the
height of the river by another ten feet.”