The Hunt for Atlantis (6 page)

“Wait,” Nina said. “How do you know about my theory?”

“The Frost Foundation has friends in academia all around the world. They know that any new ideas about the location of Atlantis will catch my interest, so they keep me appraised. And your ideas …” He smiled. “I’ll get right to the point. I’m willing to fully fund a survey expedition to test your theory.”

Nina could barely contain her excitement. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Subject to a condition, though.” He saw her expression fall, and chuckled. “Nothing bad, I promise. But the Gulf of Cádiz is rather large, and while I have a lot of resources, they’re not infinite. I’d like you to narrow the search, pinpoint a location.”

“But that’s the problem,” Nina told him. “There’s so little information to work from, I don’t know how I can narrow it down.”

“There might be more than you think.” She looked up at him, intrigued. “I’ll explain later. But for now … are you interested?”

“Am I interested?” she gasped. “Absolutely!”

Frost walked over to her and offered his right hand. She hesitated, then shook it. “Wonderful,” he said. “Dr. Wilde, together, we’re going to find Atlantis.”

The gleaming object hung in space, unaffected by gravity.

Nina stared at it in amazement. She’d never seen a free-floating hologram before, or even imagined they were possible outside the realms of science fiction or movies.

“What is it?” she asked at last, reluctantly looking away from the hologram to the other people in the darkened room.

“It’s something that might help you narrow down your search,” said Frost. “Or at least, that’s the claim of the man who wants to sell it to me.”

“Sell it?” Nina turned back to the hologram. The projection, hovering above a cylindrical pedestal in which colored lights flickered faster than her eyes could follow, was supposedly life-sized, just under a foot long and about two inches wide. It was a flat bar of metal, the bottom end rounded while the top was straight, a circular nub protruding from it. The color was almost like gold, but with an unusual reddish tint…

Like her pendant.

She absently fingered the metal piece hanging from her neck as she leaned closer to the hologram, moving around the pedestal to see the other side. To her disappointment, there was nothing there except a bizarre, perspective-defying inversion of its face, through which she could see Frost, Kari and Chase.

“The seller only wanted us to have a taste,” said Kari. “He claims that the front of the artifact has markings that may be of use to us—but he won’t let us see them until we agree to pay him.”

“How much does he want?” Chase asked.

“Ten million dollars.”

“Bloody hell. That’s a lot for a fancy ruler.”

“It might be worth even more than that,” Nina said. Even though she knew there was nothing there, she couldn’t help reaching out a finger for an experimental touch. The tip of her nail sank into the hologram, part of the image disappearing where her finger obstructed the laser beams generating it. “It’s orichalcum, isn’t it?”

“So it seems.” Frost held up a small glass dish containing a little piece of metal the same color as the bar. “As well as the hologram, he also sent us a sample. He claims that he cut it from the side of the artifact.” Nina saw a small nick in one side of the hologram. “I ran a metallurgical test. It’s a gold-copper alloy, but with very unusual levels of carbon and sulfur, which would account for its color.”

“Consistent with volcanism?”

“Yes.”

“Which would match what Plato said about orichalcum in Critias!” Nina’s excitement rose as she realized the implications.

“Wait, what?” Chase asked. “Sorry, but when somebody says volcanism to me, I think of Mr. Spock.”

“According to Plato, orichalcum—a rare metal—was mined in Atlantis,” Nina explained. “But there’s no room for any unknown elements in the periodic table, which means it had to be an alloy of other metals. But you don’t mine alloys, you make them—unless they were formed by some natural process. Volcanic activity could have caused deposits of gold and copper to fuse together into a new substance, and if there were sufficient quantities, it could have been dug out of the rock.”

“The Atlanteans used orichalcum to cover the walls of their citadel,” said Kari. “They considered it nearly as valuable as gold—which it is, because of the high gold content—but an object like this would be worth far more than just its weight in precious metals. If it’s genuine, then it would be the first true Atlantean artifact ever discovered—proof that Atlantis exists.”

Frost nodded to Schenk, who switched on the lights. The hologram faded, losing its illusion of solidity. “So where is it? Who has it?” Nina asked.

“The seller is called Yuri Volgan,” began Frost. “He used to be one of Qobras’s men. Apparently he wants to leave the Brotherhood, and also wants enough money to hide from Qobras by selling this artifact. He sent the orichalcum fragment and the hologram to us via an intermediary, an Iranian called Failed Ajar.”

Nina frowned. “I’ve heard the name.”

“I’m not surprised. He sells ancient Persian artifacts—that aren’t supposed to be for sale.”

“A grave robber,” she said with distaste.

“He used to be, although I doubt he’s gotten his own hands dirty for years. He’s made himself very wealthy by selling his country’s treasures to private collectors abroad. Wealthy enough that he can buy a degree of immunity from the Iranian government.”

“Plus he grasses up his rivals,” added Chase, “sells them out so the politely go after them instead of him. Haven’t met him personally, but I know people who’ve dealt with him. Not a popular bloke—but if he’s selling this thing, he probably thinks it’s genuine. He might be a scumbag, but he’s a scumbag who’s bothered about his reputation.”

“He has the resources to handle the sale of this artifact, and to protect Volgan from Qobras,” Frost said. “Which is why I’m inclined to believe that it’s genuine. But I’m not going to hand over ten million dollars without some proof. And that’s where you come in.”

Nina blinked. “Me?”

“I want you to examine the artifact and decide if it is what Volgan claims.”

“You want me to go to Iran?” She gulped. “Part of the Axis of Evil, hates America, that Iran?”

Chase laughed. “I’ll be there to watch out for you. Me and a few mates. Nothing to worry about.”

“You’ve been to Iran before?”

He looked evasive. “Not officially …”

“Mr. Chase and his associates will look after you,” said Frost. “And Kari will be going as well, as my representative.”

“But what makes you think I’ll be able to tell if this artifact’s real or not?” asked Nina, gesturing at the ghostly hologram.

“You are an expert in ancient languages, aren’t you?” said Kari.

“I wouldn’t say expert,” she protested. “I mean, I’ve studied the field, I can tell my Phoenician from my Namibian, but I’m not a specialist.”

“From what I’ve heard, you’re rather better than that. Maybe even better than your mother at reading Glozel.” Nina stared at Frost, surprised. “I knew your parents—I actually funded the expedition to Tibet where they …” He paused, looking away from her. “A great tragedy. A great loss.”

“They never told me you funded them,” said Nina.

“At my request. Now that you know what Qobras is capable of, you understand why I place great importance on security. Qobras will do whatever it takes to stop anyone from finding Atlantis, and he has considerable resources—and some powerful friends around the world.”

“Like who?”

“It’s probably safer that you don’t know. But as for the artifact, if what Yuri Volgan says is true, you should be able to tell if it’s authentic by reading the text. And just imagine it,” Frost went on, a certain theatricality entering his voice, “you’ll be able to hold in your hand an actual object from Atlantis!”

“If it’s genuine.”

“Which you’re the most qualified person in the world to determine.”

Nina considered his words. She still wasn’t keen on the idea of going to a country that was openly hostile to Westerners, and Americans in particular, but she’d been on expeditions to less-than-friendly countries before, and the potential prize in this case far exceeded the value of anything else she’d ever discovered.

Besides, as Frost had said, she wouldn’t be going alone.

And if she chose not to go, what would she do instead? Return to New York, to where she had just been denied funding … and where she would have to constantly look over her shoulder in case Qobras’s men came after her again?

“Okay,” she said, “I’m in. So, when do we set off?”

Frost smiled. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I like your thinking,” said Nina, smiling back. “Just because Atlantis has waited for eleven thousand years doesn’t mean we should wait.”

“Then,” said Kari, “let’s get you started.”

Iran

Nina rubbed irritably at her arm. “This still hurts.” “You don’t want to get some weird Middle Eastern disease, do you?” Chase asked, amused. “Better safe than sorry.”

“I know that. It’s just uncomfortable, that’s all.” The vaccination had been an unwelcome part of the deal, administered in the antiseptic environs of the biolab. While less painful than others she’d had in the past, it seemed to take an age for the little bead of blood to dry up.

“That was nothing! Christ, you should have seen some of the shots I got in the SASS. Needles this big.” He held his hands eight inches apart. “And you don’t want to know where they stuck ’me.”

The Gulfstream had just passed over the Black Sea and Turkey on its way to Iran. It hadn’t taken a direct route from Norway, instead detouring to Prague to pick up another passenger. In the plane with Nina, Chase and Kari—who sat on her own at the back of the cabin working on a laptop—was another man, whom Chase had introduced as Hugo Castile. From the way they mocked each other, it was clear they were old friends.

“Yes, Edward and I have known each other for a long time,” the long-faced, ebullient European—French, Nina thought, from his accent—confirmed when she asked. “We worked together on many special joint operations for NATO. Strictly hush-hush, as you say,” he added, tapping the side of his beaky nose.

“So you were in the French army?”

Unlike on a commercial airliner, the seats on the private jet faced each other across the aisle. Castile drew himself up in his with a look of great outrage, one fist clenched against his chest. “French? Please! I am Belgian, Madame!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize,” Nina said in hurried apology, before it dawned on her that Chase was laughing. Castillo’s face cracked into a smile. “Wait, are you making fun of me?”

“Just taking the piss,” said Chase with a teasing grin. “Hugo’s been doing his ‘French? ’Own dare you!’ routine for years. I mean, he comes from Belgium, it’s the only gimmick he’s got.”

“English philistine,” Castile sniffed. He took a polished red apple from a jacket pocket and examined it carefully before taking a bite.

“So, what can I expect in Iran, Mr. Chase?” Nina asked.

“Call me Eddie.” His expression became businesslike. “Hopefully you shouldn’t have to deal too much with the locals. Should be a straightforward job: in, meet Ajar, decide if this thing’s real, then the boss,” he nodded at Kari, still occupied with her computer, “transfers the money, and out. That’s if everything’s legit.”

“And if it’s not?”

He patted his leather jacket, which was draped over the arm of his seat. The butt of his pistol was visible inside it. “Then there’ll be trouble. Don’t worry, though, we should be okay. I’ll watch out for you, Doc.”

“We will watch out for you,” corrected Castile, mouth full of apple.

“Thanks,” Nina said, keeping her concerns to herself.

Kari’s laptop chimed. She regarded the screen with surprise, then her blue eyes flicked up and caught Nina’s gaze for a moment before turning back to the computer. She quickly typed something, firmly tapped the return key, then closed the laptop and moved to the empty seat facing Nina.

“Something wrong?” Nina asked.

“No—just an e-mail from my father, something I wasn’t expecting. Nothing to worry about, though—in fact, it’s good news. But it’s not important right now, so …” She leaned forward, smiling for the first time since Nina had met her and revealing flawless white teeth. “I thought I should apologize to you, Dr. Wilde.”

“For what?”

“I haven’t been the best hostess. I’ve been preoccupied, with my work for the foundation, with this expedition … I’m sorry if I’ve come across as cold and distant.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Nina assured her. “You’re very busy, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of things all going on at once.”

“Not anymore. From now on, I’m devoting all of my attention to you and this mission. I want it to be a success—and I also want to make sure that you stay safe.”

“Thanks,” said Nina, smiling back. Then Kari glanced at Chase.

“Mr. Chase,” she said, fixing him with a disapproving look, “are you trying to look down my top?”

Nina stifled a giggle, while Castile covered his own amusement by taking a hurried bite from his apple. Chase had undeniably been caught in the act, but rather than try to deny it, he simply sat back and raised an eyebrow. “If I can do it, then so can any Iranian blokes who see you, and they’re a bit funny about women in sexy clothes. We don’t want to draw any more attention than we have to. I was just thinking it’s probably worth you changing into something a bit more frumpy before we land.”

Kari was wearing a tight white top and leather jeans similar to the ones she’d had on at Ravnsfjord. “You have a point. Fortunately, I came prepared.”

“The doc here’s okay, though. Just needs a coat.”

Nina glared at him. “Are you saying I look frumpy, Mr. Chase?” She would have used the word “modest” or “practical” to describe her own outfit of jeans, sweatshirt and sturdy boots.

“You look fine,” Kari grinned, standing. “If you need anything, just ask me.” She went into the rear compartment.

Castile finished his apple. “Ah, England,” he announced. “A country of the charming, the sophisticated, the romantic. And there’s also Edward Chase.”

“Ah, sod off, Hugo.”

Castile flicked his apple core at him, which Chase effortlessly caught, his hand snapping up like a striking snake.

“Is he always like this?” Nina asked Castile.

“I’m afraid so.”

“And the ladies love it that way,” said Chase, dropping the apple core into his empty water glass. Castile tutted and rolled his eyes. Chase checked his watch, then stretched out in his seat.

“Getting comfortable?” Nina asked.

“Just making the most of it,” he replied. “We’ll be landing in half an hour. And I bet you the ride’s not going to be nearly this smooth once we’re on the ground.”

Chase was certainly right about that, Nina thought. The Land Rover taking them to their meeting with Failed Ajar had seen better days, and the road beneath it apparently had never seen a good day in its entire life.

The Gulfstream landed at the airport serving the Iranian city of Esfah?n, in the Zagros mountains on the country’s western side. Though the group had no trouble getting through customs, even when Nina presented her American passport—it turned out that the Frost Foundation had provided considerable aid following the devastating earthquake of 2003, earning the gratitude of the Iranian government—they still received plenty of suspicious looks. All of the women Nina saw as they drove out of Esfah?n wore head scarves at the least, and a fair percentage were veiled. While Iran was not as strict as its Islamic neighbors like Saudi Arabia in how its women were forced to dress, overgarments that concealed the female form were mandatory, even for visitors.

Kari’s preparedness had extended to having something suitable for Nina to wear, a pale brown coat that came down to her knees. Though Nina instinctively resented the presence of any system that dictated what she could or couldn’t wear in public, at least she didn’t have to bury herself inside a burka. However, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at the long coat Kari had chosen for herself. While it no doubt adhered to the letter of Iranian law, if anything the flowing, narrow-waisted white garment made her even more striking a figure.

Although she had worn a head scarf at the airport, as soon as the Land Rover started moving Kari pulled it off. Nina did the same—once the vehicle was safely clear of the city.

Driving the Land Rover was a man whom Chase introduced as “an old mate of mine.” A good decade older than either Chase or Castile, Hafez Marradejan was a stocky, dark-skinned man with a graying beard that stretched to an impressive point four inches beyond the tip of his chin. He was also a chain-smoker, to Nina’s dismay—all the more so when she learned they had at least an hour’s drive ahead.

“So,” said Hafez—although Nina spoke a little Arabic, he opted to talk in English—“you’re back in work, eh, Eddie?”

“Yep,” Chase answered. He was in the front passenger seat, Nina sandwiched between Kari and Castile in the back. “Same business, new bosses.” He tipped his head back in Kari’s direction.

“Ah! I’d say welcome to Iran, Miss Frost, but current government? Pah! Doesn’t deserve your respect.” Hafez kept looking back at Kari as he spoke, making Nina wince every time he took his eyes off the worryingly busy road. “Finally get government that at least tries to be progressive, and then what happens? They get voted out of office at next election! Democracy, eh? No use if people are idiots!” He made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a hacking cough. “Still, good to see you again, Eddie.”

“So you have been to Iran before?” Nina asked.

“No, nope, never,” Chase said quickly. Castile adopted an innocent look, gazing out of the window.

Hafez laughed his coughing laugh again. “Westerners and their secrets! What happened was—”

“Absolutely nothing,” cut in Chase. “NATO special forces have never run operations in Iran. Ever.” He glared at Hafez, who just chuckled and drew in another lungful of smoke.

“Eh, then I must have been helping ghosts. By the way, one of the boxes you never brought with you is in the back, like you asked.”

Castile reached over the rear seats and lifted up a dirty metal container the size of a large shoe box. “Buried treasure!” he proclaimed, opening it and taking out a black automatic pistol, some ammunition clips and, to Nina’s horror, a hand grenade. “Here, hold this.”

Nina squeaked as he casually dropped the grenade into her hand. Castile quickly and expertly checked the gun, loaded it, then slipped it into his jacket.

Chase glanced at Nina, who was still staring, petrified, at the grenade. “Nothing to panic about,” he said, taking it from her. “It won’t explode unless you pull out the pin. Like this.”

He pulled out the pin. Nina shrieked.

“This one’s got a five-second fuse,” Chase noted. “But don’t worry, it can’t go off unless you release the spoon here, as well.” He slid the pin back into place, then took his thumb off the curved metal clip protruding from one side of the grenade. “See?” Castile and Hafez chuckled.

“That wasn’t funny!” cried Nina.

“Gentlemen,” Kari added, “I’d prefer it if you didn’t terrorize the most important member of our expedition.” The words were mild, but there was no mistaking the authority in her voice.

“Sorry, boss,” said Chase. He handed the grenade back to Castile, who returned it to the box. “Just thought it’d be a way to pass the time.”

Nina made a face. “Next time, bring an iPod!”

After traveling for an hour, Nina wished she had an iPod.

The mountains were impressive at first, but after a while one brown peak looked much like another. The bumpy highway had been as smooth as a magic carpet ride compared to the potholed, twisting road they were now on, in places little more than a dirt track above a perilously steep slope. A lumbering diesel locomotive on the railway line below belched out fumes as it hauled a long string of grimy tanker trucks. Following the twin steel lines along the valley, she saw sidings alongside them about a mile ahead, another train stationary in one.

“How much farther is it, Hafez?” asked Chase.

“Not far,” Hafez said, pointing into the valley. “Past the train yard.”

“Thank God,” Nina sighed. The thin seats and constant bumping of the old Land Rover were becoming a literal pain in the butt. “Why did this guy want to meet all the way out here anyway? Couldn’t we just have met in the Tehran Hilton?”

“Christ, I wish,” said Chase. “Nah, he’s being cautious. Which means we need to be too.”

“Do you expect trouble?” Kari asked.

“We’re spending ten million dollars to buy an ancient artifact stolen off a maniac from a very dodgy bloke in a remote part of Iran. Don’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Once again, you have a point.”

Ten bumpy minutes later, Hafez brought the Land Rover to a halt outside an abandoned farmhouse. The train yard was out of sight behind them around a bend in the valley; even the railway lines had disappeared into a tunnel below. A steep, dusty rise above the house was topped by scrubby trees, while on the other side of the structure the slope dipped sharply down to the valley floor. There was no other trace of human habitation in sight.

“Hugo, check around the back of the house,” Chase said, sharp and businesslike again. “Hafez, stay with Dr. Wilde and Ms. Frost. Any sign of trouble, get them out of here.”

“Where are you going?” Kari asked.

“To make sure the house is empty.” He got out of the Land Rover and took a powerful LED flashlight from a pocket. “If I’m not out in two minutes,” he told Hafez, “that’s a sign of trouble.” The Iranian nodded as the two other men jogged to the farmhouse.

It actually took less than two minutes for Chase to reappear, Castile completing his circle of the building soon after. “It’s clear,” Chase said, returning to the Land Rover. “Only two rooms, and nowhere for anyone to hide.”

“Nobody around the back,” added Castile.

“Okay then,” Chase continued, “this road’s the only way in or out. Anyone comes, we’ll have plenty of warning.”

“I don’t think he’s coming by road,” said Castille, an odd expression of distaste on his face.

“Why?”

“Can’t you hear it?”

Chase tipped his head to the side, then grinned. “Oh yeah,” he said, clapping the Belgian on one shoulder. “It’s the sound of your nightmares! Woo, it’s coming to get you!”

“As you so elegantly say in England … piss off.”

Nina moved to the open door to listen. “What’s the matter?” She could hear it now, an unmistakable clatter echoing from the surrounding mountains.

“Hugo once had a bad experience with a helicopter,” Chase said. “So now he’s got a phobia about them. Chopperphobia! Every time he sees one, he reckons something’s going to go wrong and kill him.”

“They fly with huge whirling blades spinning at insane speeds!” Castille protested. “How can they not be dangerous?”