Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) (28 page)

Billie was the
first to slide through the incinerator and back into the vault. She pressed the
button for the elevator. Her large brown eyes appeared larger, if that was even
possible, while they waited.

“Sam, do you
realize what this means?” she asked.

“Billie, I just
watched a man virtually return from the dead because he touched a blue sphere,
and now, the entire building is collapsing beneath us. So, no. I have no idea
what any of this means!”

“Think about it.
What if the Master Builders were the only survivors of the great flood who
maintained the full knowledge of the technologies of Atlantis?”

“And why did they
of all people retain the knowledge, when others joined their fellow hunter
gathers in the mountains and survived?” Tom asked.

“What if the
reason they maintained the knowledge was they were immortal?”

Sam stepped into
the elevator. “That’s impossible.”

“They were Gods!
The ones the ancient Atlanteans worshiped. Poseidon was a god. They were
immortal.”

“That’s
impossible.”

“No. Everything’s
impossible until it has been done. Just because no one’s ever heard of it,
doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“Yes it does.
That’s exactly what it means. It’s made up.”

“But it would
answer everything. We know that the Master Builders were just a few super
intelligent people, who used armies of men to build their great works. How
could the same person build the pyramids if they didn’t live forever?”

“You’re talking
about legends, the Holy Grail – nothing more.”

“Yes, but today
we stepped inside Atlantis, entered an ancient code that was otherwise planning
on sending a comet hurtling toward earth.”

“Okay, so we’ve
had an unusual day. For now, I will accept that there’s a possibility they lived
a much longer life than what we know of. Andrew told us that he spent nearly
200 years trying to infiltrate the Phoenix Resistance, but that’s a long way
off saying they were Gods.”

“Okay, but it’s
worse than that.”

“What’s worse
than that?”

“If what we think
is true, then the Master Builders are still around. That means they’re here, in
our time. Weaving their Machiavellian webs of purpose, but for what ultimate
desire, or where, we have no idea.”

Sam had another
cold shiver down his spine.

“That thought’s
really going to send terror through the heart of the Secretary of Defense.”

Outside the
elevator a blue glow had encompassed the building. The entire structure shook
for a couple minutes and then the light and vibrations stopped completely.

Billie looked at
her feet. They had finally stopped moving. “It’s over. Atlantis is gone.”

Sam looked over
to see the Secretary of Defense. She was on her phone – most likely giving the
President her account of the events. She hung up and walked toward them.

“I suppose a
thank you is in order.” It was as close as the Secretary of Defense had ever
come to thanking him for his services. “You must know that the events of the
past five weeks must be buried as deep as Atlantis. As for our involvement in it,
we will deny everything. And Russia will continue to stay out of it. Any public
appreciation would be out of the question.”

“Of course.” He
smiled at her. Sam wondered how much her appearance of disliking him was a pretense.
She smiled back. It was almost seductive in its array of meanings. Somehow,
while he’d let his guard down on the pretense of flirtation, she had sensed his
reticence.

She smiled
pervasively at him. The way a beautiful woman knew to seduce any information
out of a man. He couldn’t stand the woman, but there was no denying she was
insatiably beautiful. Her coy, flirtatious smile ended abruptly, as though
she’d seen straight through him. Back to her normal, arrogant self, she said, “You
learned something, didn’t you?”

“About Atlantis?”
He smiled. “No, only more questions. But seeing as your organization is in the
business of plausible denial, I won’t try and interrogate you for their
answers.”

“Not about
Atlantis. You made an unexpected discovery about the Master Builders, didn’t
you?”

He shook his
head. “No, I’m afraid not.”

Sam had been
introduced to one of the greatest theories about the Master Builders since he’d
first heard of their existence. It would change everything about the future, but
he would be damned if he was going to tell her what he’d learned before he
found some proof. Even he thought Billie’s explanation was fanciful, at best.

Sam sat down on
the balcony of his father’s Fifth Avenue Penthouse overlooking one of the most
beautiful cities in the world. Tom poured the glass of champagne for everyone.
Billie took a glass and so did Matthew, Sam’s skipper of the Maria Helena, who
had flown in that night to celebrate.  

Holding his own
glass up high, Sam said, “A toast, to the human race. May we learn from our
mistakes, so that we gain the right to survive.”

They each drank
quickly.

“So, what are you
going to do now?” Sam asked, staring at Billie.

“You and I both
know where I have to go,” she replied.

“Where?” Tom
asked.

“If the ancient
Master Builders really were immortal, it would finally explain some of the
research that my grandfather did. I have to return to one of the earliest
archeological sites I ever visited – to a place my grandfather took me when I
was just a little girl. And then I have to complete what he started.”

“So you’re
leaving us again?” Matthew said.

“I’m afraid so.
But don’t worry. When I have the answers that I’m looking for, I’ll call your
boss for some help. Sam, I’ve saved your ass enough times over the past decade.
One of these days, I’m going to call in that favor, and you and Tom are going
to help me complete this thing.”

Sam poured
another glass, drank it, and then replied, “I’m looking forward to the day that
we both have answers on that account.”

The night carried
on, and the four of them consumed far more alcohol than any of them intended.
Finally, Sam looked at Matthew and said, “Tell me Matthew, what’s happened?”

Matthew shook his
head. “What do you mean?”

“I know you.
There’s little that would make you leave your beloved ship, the Maria Helena,
alone for more than a few hours, let alone an entire twenty-four of them. I
appreciate you’ve come here to celebrate, but in all the time I’ve known you,
you’ve never once sat down and had a glass of anything with me until tonight.
So, now I ask again, what’s happened?”

Matthew’s face
flushed. “There’s been another rogue wave.”

“Any casualties?”

“Yes, another
ship – the Global Star.”

“That makes three
of my father’s liners this month? He must be ropable. I’m surprised he hasn’t
called to tell me to fix it.” Sam stopped and looked at Matthew’s expression.
“Christ, he sent you to retrieve me, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s lost
three of his ships.”

“But the
weather’s been good.”

“That’s just it,
Sam… rogue waves occur out of complete randomness. There’s no way to predict
when one will strike. On average, every 4
^th
wave is one and a half
times the median height of the waves in an area, whereas every 16
^th
is double. However, only one out of every 800,000 is a rogue wave, described as
more than ten times the median wave height.”

Sam nodded his
head. He was mildly inebriated and he’d heard the science of rogue waves
previously. “So what? Rogue waves occur randomly in nature.”

“And yet three
have occurred within the Bermuda Triangle in the past month. The shipping
captains have started to complain its bad luck; the insurance companies are
crying fraud; and I’m afraid something much more sinister is happening.”

Sam thought about
it for a moment before replying. “You have any idea what the hell might be
causing that, Tom?”

“Not a clue. If
it was hurricane season, or something, maybe. But there’s currently no severe
weather warnings on the forecast.”

“Okay, I’m away for
a few days. I promised Aliana we’d go somewhere far from the ocean. Then I
suggest we take the Maria Helena for a cruise into Bermuda in hunt of
whatever’s creating these artificial rogue waves, and put a stop to it. . .”  

The
End

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