Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) (17 page)

Sam put his ADS
machine to maximum negative buoyancy and then jumped. The ground shook beneath
him. Because of the years of sediment built up, it was hard to tell if it was
in his mind or not, but then he realized with surprise that it moved. Not much,
but it was enough to confirm his theory.

“What is it?” Tom
asked.

“See for yourself.
Reduce your buoyancy, and then try jumping, and you’ll see it!”

A few moments
later, Tom jumped. Then he jumped again. By the third time, he stopped and
looked at Sam. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. They covered the lake to
create a false bottom?”

“It would appear
so,” Sam replied. “The question is, to hide what?”

 “Well, we’re not
going to get any answers jumping on it. Let’s get rid of this sediment and work
out how we’re going to cut whatever it is.”

“Good idea.”

Together they
used a powerful suction device to clear a way through the sediment the way a
dredging ship removes a sandbar or maintains the depth of a shipping lane. It
took more than an hour, and seven feet of soil, before they reached it.

Sam examined the
material at the bottom of the hole they’d just created. It was made of some
sort of thick synthetic polyurethane material. The thing even looked like a
giant tarpaulin or trampoline. Whatever it was, it definitely hadn’t formed
naturally at the bottom of the lake.

“Any idea what that
is, Tom?”

“No idea, but I
have an idea that this rotary saw will fix it.”

Tom moved the
extension arm forward into the hole until its rotating saw began to cut through
the material. It was tougher than he expected, but once the saw picked up
speed, it sliced it open. A moment later, a gap was created that was large
enough for both of them to swim through. Large amounts of surrounding sediment
fell through the new opening.

“Tom, I think we’re
about to find some answers.”

“I just hope they
were meant to be found.”

“I can’t answer
that, but this is where Billie sent us.”

They sunk through
the opening and found a dark world – untouched by humans for nearly a hundred
years.

Sam’s depth
reading showed the true bottom of the lake as nearly 500 feet deep. “That’s
more like the sort of place I would say Atlantis may remain hidden for many,
many years.”

“500 feet is a
little more serious. Even though the ADS machine is made for it, we’re leaving
very little room for error if something goes wrong.” 

The two men, feeling
more like astronauts in their ADS machines, sunk into the hole of their
creation, and into a new world. It was dark. A place that hadn’t seen the light
of day for many years. There was no marine life to be seen. Sam shined his
powerful shoulder-mounted flashlight around the new ceiling. Although the
material was certainly much stronger than a tarpaulin, from beneath there was
little to differentiate the two.

Tom looked at the
predicted maximum duration of his life support system. A simple number on the
side of his mechanical left forearm.

It read: 47 hours
and 5 minutes.

“So, now we’re
below a manmade fake lake bottom constructed of sediment and some sort of
polyurethane, which in itself is below more than a foot of frozen ice… and we
want to go down there?”  

“It’s either
that, or you can explain to Billie why we didn’t follow her direction to
Atlantis and save her?”

Tom didn’t reply.

“I think your
girlfriend would be pissed off.”

“Billie’s not my
girlfriend. But you’re right, she’d be pissed – let’s go find whatever the hell
she sent us here to get and then get as far away as possible from this place.”

Sam shifted his
ADS into a controlled dive, and then asked, “Billie’s not your girlfriend?” 

“No.”

Sam was going to
say something and then thought better of it.

They descended
another hundred feet, and the place had the dark appearance of another world.
Yet, unlike many other places in which Sam had dived, this one seemed to be
entirely lacking in any marine life.

At three hundred
feet Tom said, “Billie’s amazing. I’d marry her tomorrow if she’d let me. The
trouble is, she has no interest in it. She’s focused on something else, which
she has no desire to tell me about. But like the Master Builders and yourself,
she can’t truly commit to anything or anyone, until she finds the answer to
whatever question seems to have eluded her since she was a child.”

“I understand…”
Sam began to respond, but stopped.

“Because you know
how you get when you’re studying a lead to the Master Builders?”

“No, because despite
all those muscles, you’re really quite an unattractive guy.”

Despite their
distance, Sam could hear the sound of Tom’s deep laugh inside his ADS machine.  Tom
ignored Sam’s joke, and then continued. “You know Billie a lot better than I do.
Do you have any idea what she’s looking for?”

“No idea,” Sam
lied. He would have told Tom the truth, but it wasn’t his to tell. Besides, it
was because of what Billie was searching for that their lives had become
entangled. It had killed her grandfather. Her own father had the good sense to
leave it alone, while she had become obsessed, and that obsession had very
nearly got him killed alongside her. No, it had disappeared since they had last
gotten close to finding it – retreating like a wounded snake, into an unobtainable
region from whence it had come. Wherever it was, he hoped that it remained
hidden, at least for the rest of their lifetimes.

“How about you
and Aliana?”  Tom asked, changing the subject.

“What about us?”
Sam replied. His mind instantly returned to the girl’s exquisite face. With her
blond hair, and striking grey eyes, Aliana’s beauty was surpassed only by her
intense intelligence. He’d met her while searching for the Magdalena, an
airship filled with rich Jewish families escaping during World War II that never
reached its destination. Aliana’s father had tried to kill him, but in the end
had given his blessing.

“Are you going to
marry her?”

Sam thought
seriously about it for a moment. Did he love her? Yes, with all his heart.
Would he marry her? Of course he would marry her, if their lives were
different. If they had been normal people, who worked nine to five, enjoyed
weekends off, and generally spent time together. But Aliana and he were both
driven by something far more important than love.

He needed to find
answers – who were the Master Builders really, and where had they gone? She
needed to win a battle against some virus that hadn’t yet evolved. They were
different questions, but both of them needed the answers more than anything
else in life. Yes, for the time being, they loved each other, and for every
free moment that he had, Sam wanted to spend it with Aliana. But he very much
doubted they would be happy married.

“No, I don’t
think we will.”

Yes, I know
why Billie would never marry Tom, despite the obvious affection that she has
for him – because I’m driven toward something that I can’t explain too.

Sam wanted to
tell Tom that he should enjoy his time for what it was, but couldn’t come up
with the right way to approach it. In the end, he did what he always did, and
focused on the task at hand.

“We’re
approaching 500 feet.”

“Copy that,” Tom
replied. “So, I guess the tourist brochure forgot to move the decimal one
place?” 

“Guess so.”

Each man adjusted
his ADS so they were now horizontally sinking, allowing for a clear view of the
ground below them. It, too, was covered in sediment. But not enough to cover
the markings of early man.

And then they saw
it.

A series of
rings, surrounding more rings, cut ever deeper into the earth’s crust, like a
series of moats, culminating in a giant dome at the center. There was a slight
ooze of sediment, most likely from a hundred years of settlement, which covered
it. But even so, the glow was unmistakably dark orange. At this depth, it
almost looked red.  

“Tom, I think we
just found Atlantis.”

Billie watched as
the mercenaries responded immediately, with every bit of efficiency that one
would expect from professional killers. They formed a defensive circle to the
right hand side of the glowing temple, which had drawn the searchers toward
their trap like flies. 

Each person in
their party used the Kevlar pack off his shoulder to build a mediocre defensive
barrier. Billie had no doubt that each man was worth the price Edward had paid,
in skill and efficiency. She looked at their M60 machine guns pointed up at
their attackers. Even with superior weaponry and a lifetime worth of training,
they would only be able to take out a few dozen pygmies each. But, even the
most optimistic of equations showed they simply did not have enough bullets to
win.

“Remain steady
gentlemen,” Mark said. “Choose your targets, and keep your bursts of fire
short.”

The men grunted
in acknowledgement.

Their eyes were large
with adrenaline, their weapons drawn and focused. Without exception, each one
of them appeared to be grinning like a demon. Billie wondered how it could be
that trained soldiers had failed to see what she knew to be fact – they did not
have the ability to win this fight, despite superior weaponry.

A single pygmy – most
likely the tribe’s warrior chief, screamed something in an unrecognizable
language. Without ever having heard the sound before, Billie instantly knew
what it meant. The continuous sound of thumping weapons ceased.

And then the
onslaught of spears rained down upon them.

Billie,
surrounded by the team, was the most protected, as she heard the continuous
thump of spears striking their barrier of backpacks. Hope rose as each one
snapped upon striking the Kevlar.  

Before the next
set was thrown, Mark yelled, “Fire!”

The sound of M60
machine guns being eagerly released by the mercenaries from their restraints
echoed through the giant circles of dams, like an amphitheater, in short
bursts. The first set of pygmies died instantly, their pale white flesh ripped
apart as the large 7.62 caliber bullets traveled through unhindered.

Billie looked up
and Mark winked at her. “I told you we’d be all right.”

“That’s not all
of them,” Billie replied, as another hundred or more men took the place of
their injured or killed tribal brothers.

Whosh!

A second set of
spears were thrown at them. Again, each person grabbed a backpack to form a
shield. This time one of the British SAS soldiers had the small head of a spear
slide clear through his right hand.

“Fuck! Are you
okay?” Billie asked.

The man smiled.
“It’s all right. I’ve had worse nicks shaving. Doesn’t even hurt, actually.” He
then gripped the trigger of his machine gun, and fired another burst toward the
enemy. The first one was short, but the second one seemed to continue until he
emptied the magazine.

“Stop firing!”
Mark complained. “You’re wasting ammunition!”

“I’m sorry sir, I
don’t know what’s happened. I can’t feel my hand. I can’t feel anything… in
fact… I can’t…”

Billie looked at
the soldier. “He’s stopped breathing!”

“Damn it! The
arrows must be poison tipped!” Mark said.

“Is there
anything we can do?” Edward asked.

“I’ve no fucking
idea Mr. Worthington! Until today, no one even knew that the Makan tribe really
existed, let alone what poison they use to arm their spearheads.”

Billie squatted
down and felt for a pulse. “He’s got a pulse, but it looks like his muscles
have all stopped working. That’s why his diaphragm has stopped. If we ventilate
him, he should live.”

“That’s great,
but in case you didn’t notice, we’re all a little busy right now,” Mark said,
before letting off another burst of bullets.

Another hundred
or more pygmies stood proudly above them in a sign of strength, despite the
certainty they were going to be gunned down. But for every one that died,
another took his place with the equanimity of a man who honestly believes he is
going to a greater place.

Every time Billie
snuck a peek above her it became ever clearer that their superior weaponry was
no match for the pygmies’ sheer numbers and brutal dedication to the cause.

“Okay, don’t
waste any more shots. We’re going to run out. Only target any who descend into
the amphitheater,” Mark said.

“And if they all
descend?” Edward asked, his right eyebrow turned upwards.

Mark gritted his
teeth. “Then we’re all royally fucked.”

The pygmies watched
in muted silence, and then they came – armed with machetes. Mark’s face was
aghast with the abhorrent realization that he’d greatly underestimated the
force of his enemies, and was about to pay with his life.

At little over
four feet tall, the machete-wielding pygmies wreaked terror as they approached
like a stampede of wild animals. They jumped across each moat as they reached
it. Those who didn’t make it succumbed to the hungry instincts of the
crocodiles, until enough men had fallen that even the beasts no longer felt
interested in eating.

A gate opened at
the other side of the moat and dozens of the angry tribesmen in dugout canoes
paddled toward Billie.

There was nothing
that any of them could do to stop the onslaught.

Mark, along with
the other mercenaries, carefully targeted the heads of each pygmy, as they
approached the final moat. Soon the ancient tribal warriors broke through, one
at a time, killing the soldiers.

One after another,
Edward’s mercenaries were picked off.

The last
surviving four people huddled together in the remaining corner. Hugo, the
ex-Navy SEAL was grabbed by several pygmies, who eagerly ripped his arms off
and threw him into the water. A moment later, a crocodile, sensing an easy
prey, snapped its massive jaw over the poor man’s head.

Billie accepted
her fate to die.

In a strange act
of fatalism, she stood up, realizing that her death here was meaningless
compared to that which was coming to mankind if she failed. Around her, everyone
had been killed, with the exception of Mark, and Edward.

And then the
sound stopped.

In its absence,
the entire amphitheater became ghostly quiet. Every single pygmy warrior had
stopped, and each one stared at her.

A moment later,
in unison, they all bowed their heads in reverence.

It was her
necklace!

The orichalcum looked
marvelous on its own, but outright dull compared to the massive dome of
Poseidon. But maybe they had never seen anyone else with the rich metal before.
Either way, it was enough to stop them, for the moment at least.

Out of ammo, the
remaining survivors were surrounded by twenty or more pygmies with arrows
pointed directly at them. It was over -- they had lost, and Atlantis would
continue until its prophecy ended in deadly consequence.

She forced her
eyes to remain open. If she was going to die, the least she could ask for was
to see it coming.

But the spear
never fell on her.

No machetes
lashed at her, severing her limbs and neck, as they had with the rest of her
party.

Instead, each
pygmy bowed in adoration. The sound of crashing thunder, which had only seconds
earlier deafened the party as the entire tribe of warriors raced toward them,
changed to a daunting silence.

It appeared they
revered her as a God – their God.