Return to Atlantis: A Novel (6 page)

“Our translation team started work on this section as soon as the divers returned to the surface,” said Hayter. “Most of it’s similar to the other texts in the temple—accounts of the actions of the king and queen and other political leaders, military activity, and so on. Talonor’s expeditions are mentioned several times.” The Atlantean explorer’s unearthed records had led Nina to discover an ancient—and spectacular—Hindu vault high in the Himalayas the previous year. “But the part I think you’ll be most interested in is this.”

He used the remote to display a close-up of one particular section of the scribed texts. Nina examined it thoughtfully. “I recognize some words,” she said. “Something about … keys? The keys of … strength, it looks like. No, of power.”

Hayter seemed put out that she could understand any of it without his help. “I’ll save you some time,” he said, highlighting a line. “Beginning here: ‘Nantalas, high priestess of the Temple of the Gods and keeper of the
sky stone, showed the magic of the keys of power to the royal court. In the hands of others they were nothing more than simple statues, but in hers they blazed with heavenly light.’ ”

Nina stiffened, immediately realizing the significance of the words. Matt cocked an eyebrow at her reaction, but said nothing as Hayter continued: “ ‘Nantalas told the king that the keys had given her a vision of the sky stone’—we’re not sure whether that’s referring to an actual meteorite or something more metaphorical, by the way—‘with its power unleashed, a power to destroy the enemies of Atlantis.’ ”

“These keys,” Nina asked. “Is there a description of them?”

“Yes, here.” Hayter indicated another part of the text. “ ‘Three figures of purple stone, in height less than one foot. When apart, the touch of the priestess lights one to point the way to the others.’ There was probably more, but the sheet was damaged.”

Nina ignored him. She had already heard enough to confirm her suspicions.

The artifacts Alexander Stikes had taken were three small purple statues. The first had been found inside the buried Pyramid of Osiris in Egypt; the second, hidden with other stolen historical treasures in a secret bunker owned by the insane billionaires Pramesh and Vanita Khoil. The third, split into two halves, she had discovered in the lost cities of Paititi and El Dorado in South America, where the Incas hid the riches of their toppling empire from the rapacious Spanish. A trio of crudely carved, seemingly innocuous figures.

Yet they had been found in places separated by continents, by millennia. There was no known connection between the empires of the Incas and the predynastic Egyptians. But both had hidden their statues in their most secure locations.

And now it seemed that the link was … Atlantis. A great empire that eleven thousand years ago had spread from a now submerged island as far east as Tibet, as far
west as Brazil. They had apparently created the statues, then dispersed them to the farthest reaches of their dominion, to be passed down from one successive civilization to the next.

The question was: Why?

She fixed Hayter with an intense, all-business look. “Have you dated this section? How long before the fall of Atlantis was it written?”

Hayter was caught off guard by her abrupt change of attitude. “It, ah, let me see …” He flicked through his documents. “Based on your original report from five years ago, this section is, ah, around six feet along the wall from where the texts stopped. So it would have been written less than a year before Atlantis sank.”

“And that section hasn’t been excavated?” Her tone was almost accusing.

“You can see for yourself how big the slab blocking it is,” said Hayter defensively. “It must weigh tons. And there’s more debris on top of it.”

“
Sharkdozer
could have cleared it if you’d let me try,” said Matt.

“It would have taken too long, and the effort would be far out of proportion to the value of the find. I had to prioritize. The more time we spend bulldozing, the less there is for actual archaeology, and we could do more digging for less effort in other parts of the temple—”

“I want it cleared,” said Nina firmly.

Hayter gawped at her. “W-what?” he finally spluttered. “But if we do that, we won’t be able to explore the burial chamber. The support ship can only stay on station for another two weeks before it has to return to port, and if we waste time—”

“This is my decision as director of the IHA,” Nina said, standing. “I want all resources dedicated to clearing the rest of that area so I can see the final texts.” She turned to Matt. “How long?”

“I dunno,” said the Australian, as surprised as Hayter by the turn of events. “A week, maybe more? There’s a fair old pile of stones that needs to be shifted.”

“Then shift them. This is top priority.” She turned to leave.

Hayter jumped up. “This—this is absolutely insane! You can’t reprioritize an ongoing dig on some personal whim. I know the description of these statues matches the two that Donald Bellfriar examined for the IHA, but that doesn’t mean they’re really the key to god-like powers!”

“If you won’t do it, Lewis, I’ll replace you with somebody who will. The IHA is about more than just archaeology, remember? It’s also got a global security mandate, and like it or not the second of those trumps the first. I need to see those last texts. Are you with me?” Hayter could only respond with silent shock. “Good.” She opened the door.

“I’m—I’ll take this higher.”

“You do that. But in the meantime, you’d better get back to the site. There’s a lot of work to do, and I want it done fast.” She left the room, the team staring after her in stunned bewilderment.

An hour later, Nina’s phone rang. She jabbed at the speaker button. “I told you not to disturb me.”

“Sorry, Nina,” said Lola, “but Mr. Penrose is here. He says he needs to see you urgently.”

Nina frowned. While Sebastian Penrose worked for the United Nations, not the IHA, his position as liaison between the UN and its cultural protection agency gave him a certain degree of authority. “Okay,” she said reluctantly, “send him in.”

The prim, bespectacled Englishman entered. “Afternoon, Nina.”

“Sebastian. I can guess why you’re here.”

“I imagine everyone in the Secretariat Building heard Lewis Hayter throwing a wobbly. But as soon as he said you claimed it was a security issue, I told him to shut up until I’d had a chance to look into it. Not quite that
bluntly, of course.” He sat facing her. “So what’s going on?”

Nina turned her laptop so he could see the screen. She had already accessed all of Hayter’s research data on the ongoing excavations and was reading the full translation of the uncovered texts. “The three statues. They’re Atlantean.”

Penrose’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. They’re described here … along with a display of something that can only be earth energy.” She gave him a précis of what was written on the temple wall and how it related to the strange, not yet fully explained lines of power coursing through the planet, the effects of which she had experienced—and barely survived—on some of her previous adventures.

Now his eyes were almost larger than the lenses of his glasses. “Well. I see why you made it a security issue.”

“Damn right. We know that earth energy can be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands—and it looks like the Atlanteans knew about it eleven thousand years ago. Considering what we know about them now, that they were a race of ruthless conquerors, I don’t consider
their
hands particularly safe.”

Penrose rubbed his chin, thinking. “So how do you want to proceed?”

“For now, I want to do exactly what I told Lewis. We need to excavate the rest of the altar room and find out what’s written in the final texts—the last records of Atlantis before it sank. If there is an earth energy connection, then we
have
to find the statues. They’re too dangerous to be left in the open—especially in Stikes’s hands.”

“You think he might find a way to use them?”

“I’m more worried that he might sell them to someone who can. We know the Russians have the ability to build an earth energy weapon—and so does the United States, for that matter.” Both nations had developed systems that could collect and focus the natural power and unleash it on a faraway target with the force of an atomic
blast. “It won’t work without a natural superconductor to channel the energy, but I have a horrible feeling that the statues might be exactly what they need.”

“But the superconductor won’t work on its own. They would also need a person who can activate the effect.”

Nina knew exactly what he was suggesting. “Yeah. Someone like me.”

“You know, that might …” He stopped.

“What?”

He hesitated before answering. “If someone did build another earth energy system, to make it work they would need the statues—and you. And if another party wanted to
stop
them from developing it, well …”

“They might try to kill me?” said Nina, suddenly feeling very cold even in the warm room.

“I’m just saying that this could be dangerous on a personal level, not simply as a global security issue. You’re the only person in the world who is known to be able to channel earth energy. That makes you potentially extremely valuable to some people … and possibly a great threat to others. You need to be careful. Very careful.”

“Careful?” Nina said. “After everything I’ve been through, it’s lucky I’m not completely paranoid! But judging from what’s written in the temple texts, I’m not the only person who’s ever been able to channel earth energy. There was a priestess, Nantalas, who could apparently do the same thing. I guess that proves Kristian and Kari Frost were right—I really am a descendant of the Atlanteans.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t place much stock in the beliefs of a pair of genocidal lunatics,” said Penrose. The IHA had been created in the wake of an attempt to use “pure” recovered Atlantean DNA to genetically engineer a virus that would be lethal to anyone not of that descent. The agency’s task since then had been to ensure that nobody else exploited Atlantis—or any other archaeological discoveries—for similar gain. “But the idea that Atlantis could hold the key to using earth energy … you’re right, it’s definitely a concern. And I absolutely agree with
your decision to make it a security matter. If there is any more information in that temple, it needs to be found.”

“We need to find the statues too. And Stikes.”

“I’ll speak to the UN intelligence committee and try to prod its members into stepping up the search. And I’ll talk to the State Department as well, make sure the CIA and National Security Agency get a reminder.” He shook his head. “All those thousands of agents, billions of dollars, computers, satellites … and they can’t find one man.”

More than one
, thought Nina, glancing at the photo of herself and Eddie.

She gave Penrose what additional facts she had; then the Englishman departed, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She continued reading Hayter’s files, but anything further the Atlanteans had recorded about the statues remained hidden in the Temple of Poseidon …

The phone rang. Lola again. “Nina, there’s a phone call for you.”

“ ‘Do not disturb’ is still in effect, Lola,” Nina replied testily.

“I know, but I think this could be important.”

Something in Lola’s tone made Nina’s heart pound.
Eddie!
Was it someone with news about him? Or even her husband himself, finally making contact? “Put it through!”

She waited in tense anticipation for the call to be transferred. A click of the line … then a voice.

It belonged to a man called Chase. But not the one she had hoped to hear.

Larry Chase, Eddie’s father.

T
he bar was dimly lit at best, and the haze of smoke made it murkier still. Most of the miasma was from cigarettes, but it was bolstered by the tang of cigars and even whiffs of hashish from the darkest corners.

Eddie shot a disapproving glance toward one of the shadowed users as he stubbed out his cigarette. Secondhand smoke was one thing; secondhand narcotics, another entirely. He flicked another Marlboro out of its pack and was about to light it when he paused, gazing at his reflection in his Zippo. He had quit smoking years ago, during his first, short-lived marriage, but the strain of being on the run, perpetually alert for the approaching hand of the authorities, had seen him take up the habit once more.

He shook his head and lit the cigarette.
Nina would be furious if she knew
, he thought, a sudden gloom settling over him. There was a cellular phone on the scratched table before him, and he could talk to her with a couple of key presses … but he knew it wasn’t possible. For one thing, any contact—on a line that was almost certainly being monitored—could see Interpol eyeing Nina as an accomplice rather than a witness.

For another, from what she had said the last time he saw her, in Peru … she thought he was guilty. She might not even
want
to speak to him.

So he had to prove his innocence first. Which meant finding Stikes. And doing whatever was necessary to force the truth from him—before his much-deserved death.