Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) Read online

  “Yes. I went to Amsterdam in search of a key to the archives to Atlantis.”

  “Did you find it?” He seemed only mildly interested.

  “Yes. But it was my interest in it that seemed to bring me to the attention of yourself, and if I should believe you, the Phoenix Resistance.”

  “My dear Dr. Swan. The simple matter of whether you believe me or not has no bearing on the fact that there is an ancient brotherhood who want that code to Atlantis as much as we do. And if they beat us to it, the result can only mean the ending of the world as we know it.”

  She was a scientist. As such, Billie had spent her life assessing everything with circumspection and objectivity. But as she listened to this old stranger, she knew in her heart he was speaking the truth.

  Seemingly confident he’d made his point, Edward said, “In Amsterdam you learned Felix Brandt was one of the last people to ever see Atlantis, and that, after returning to Amsterdam, he travelled to Tibet. There he lived out the remainder of his days, presumably documenting the history of the world high in the Atlantean archives.”

  “That’s right. So, every archeologist and treasure hunter in the last two centuries have heard the rumor that an ancient Atlantean left a treasure trove of orichalcum somewhere in the mountains of Tibet, along with the key to the city’s central vault and a map that could outlast the ages of time.”

  “Yes, something like. Of course no one’s ever been able to locate it have they? Yet, you located something in Amsterdam. What was it, a map?”

  “Not quite a map. I discovered a key to an ancient map.”

  Edward laughed, as though he’d had enough fun with her. “Dr. Swan. On that account we’re in luck. As it so happens, I once owned the Arcane Stone. It has since been stolen from me. But I have previously used it to mark the secret location of the Atlantean Archives.”

  She grinned mischievously. What does this man actually need from me? “And what did you find there?”

  “A whole lot of ancient texts. The same as those that riddle the walls of Atlantis. I’m not a linguist, Dr. Swan. I have studied far and wide, and in my short 80 years of life on this earth, I have learned to make sense out of some of the images. But for the most part, I need your help.”

  “How do you know that I’ll have any more luck understanding it than you?”

  “Because as you know, it’s the same language that you’ve studied for years. The one you believe came from the Master Builders, although I believe we’re both going to find that the simplest explanation for them was that they were simply Gods.”

  Billie tried to hide her surprise. And then said, “Gods? The last time people truly believed that the Gods lived among us was in ancient Greece, and even then, no one really believed the stories.”

  “Oh, are you sure?”

  Billie was certain. She might overlook her scientific objectivity in place of a gut instinct about an old man, but resting the answers to some of the biggest questions to plague her life on ancient Gods, was one giant step too much for her to take.

  He smiled at her and said, “Don’t worry Dr. Swan. I’m not planning on preaching. It was just a thought.”

  Yet something about his smile made her wonder what he really knew about the Master Builders.

  “What now, then?”

  “And so, Billie, you and I are on our way to Tibet, to climb a mountain.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Andrew Brandt looked at the robe in his wardrobe. His father had been the last to wear it, and the last to truly believe in the Phoenix Resistance. It had been nearly twenty years since the ancient brotherhood met for official reasons, but in that time, the internet and global communications had changed a lot. As did the way they ran their business in the past eleven thousand years.

  What was once a society hidden by cloaks of darkness, and secret handshakes was now run by five men from around the world, each powerful and intelligent in their own right. A merchant banker, a Russian oil and gas tycoon, a leader of the most dangerous private mercenary army in the world, a politician, a CEO of one of the greatest technology firms on the planet.

  Their faces had been obscured to maintain anonymity. Andrew had never met any of them in person. But together they had a combined power that enabled them to change the world.

  Of the five of them, Andrew had been chosen to now lead the secret organization.

  One of them was still missing, lost in action. He had gone to infiltrate an enemy of the brotherhood. But now, it appeared that the man had been killed as a result, and hadn’t been heard of since.

  Instead of secret caves, handshakes, and all those stupid things that went with the role, the small gathering met via video conferencing, over secure networks, using satellites that Andrew, himself, owned.

  Up until a couple days ago, Andrew had assumed the entire premise for their organization had been a giant farce, made up by one of his great ancestors to maintain power and control over his fellow man. The only reason he’d even maintained the pretense and continued the organization, managing it as the most senior leader, was because of the connections that the organization had given him.

  After all, each of the men in the virtual room today had a net worth of nearly a hundred million dollars. And that sort of money came with contacts.

  Still in his day suit, having long ago abandoned the ornamental cloaks, he accepted the final member to the virtual room and began to chair the meeting.

  “Nearly six hours ago a woman I was paid to capture was stolen from me. It has since then come to my attention that she was in possession of the knowledge that lead her towards the current resting place of Atlantis.”

  He saw the same look on their faces as he had his own. They all said the same thing: so Atlantis was real, and so was the prophecy…

  “Do we know how much they know?” It was Kazimir – his name literally meant the destroyer of peace.

  “No, we know that they discovered something that proved unequivocally the existence of Atlantis and directed them to Amsterdam. What sent them there, I have no idea. There, they found the map to the gateway, also known as the Arcane Stone. Without Dr. Billie Swan, Sam Reilly and Tom Bower are having to backtrack, but they’re gaining momentum and have already booked a flight to Tibet!”

  “Tibet?” It was Richard who spoke first. “But we’ve already been to Tibet. There’s nothing but scribbles there. Codes to enter the inner sanctum of Atlantis. But they’re worth nothing without any knowledge of Atlantis itself.”

  “But what if they already know?” said Mr. Armel, the head of a private army of expert soldiers. He had employed soldiers who were leaders in their own country, turning them to the lucrative profession of mercenaries.

  Andrew smiled. “No, I don’t think Sam Reilly and Tom Bower know any more than we do. But what about Dr. Swan?”

  James Bradley, a billionaire turned politician from Oregon, looked irritated. “And if Dr. Swan does know its exact location, then that would explain why someone would want to abduct her. Which brings us to the next logical question. Who would have the knowledge and power to do so?”

  Andrew sighed. He’d not thought it through so far. “No idea, but I’ve already sent a team there personally, to protect the code to the gateway and find out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  French Riviera – Four Weeks Remaining

  Le Vieux, Nice was a honeycomb of narrow streets, dotted with beautiful Baroque churches, vibrant squares, and restaurants. Its dark narrow lanes were crammed with delis, boutique eateries, and bars full of beautiful people. The old town was overflowing with them. Like their Parisian counterparts, the people of Nice were splendidly dressed in the latest style, with slim figures and attractive features befitting the latest fashion magazines. The average men looked like they had walked off the set to a Calvin Klein modeling campaign, including white shorts, blue sailor tops, and brown wavy hair, tussled by the salty sea breeze. Their women took style and glamor up several notches.

 
At the end of the tiny street, the pristine waters of the French Riviera could be seen, littered with expensive yachts. Here the elite, famous and richest people of the world competed to see who’d acquired the best beach toy.

  Sam casually scanned the bay, his interest barely piqued by the abundance of beautiful yachts. Instead, he stared at one vessel that stood out amongst the others. Not because it was the most beautiful, but because in a world of yachts filled with hulls built of carbon fiber, delicate woodwork, and gold emblazing, the large steel hull of what appeared to be an old icebreaker looked as though it didn’t belong. Anchored slightly further out, as though it was being ostracized.

  It was painted sky blue. And along the ship’s angular steel hull, in large emerald writing, were the words MARIA HELENA. Below, in smaller writing – Deep Sea Expeditions. From the distance, it looked like nothing more than an oversized tugboat or possibly an old icebreaker converted into a science vessel. On the aft deck a helipad could be seen, the only indication that it deserved a place as anything more than a tugboat.

  Sam was reassured by the familiar sight of his ship. The Maria Helena had been doing research into the ever-changing water quality of the overcrowded Mediterranean as it passed through the Strait of Gibraltar. He’d ordered her skipper, Matthew Sutherland, to wrap up their project and quickly move it to the French Riviera in case they were needed.

  Sam and Tom walked confidently down the tiny street. He watched as a beautiful woman in a flowery yellow dress walked by a popular restaurant, le Royal. Although it was only just hitting eleven-thirty in the morning, the place was already thriving with tourists and locals. The aroma of strong coffee and freshly baked French bread filled the air.

  Sam smiled, enjoying the atmosphere.

  It was hardly the place for a business meeting with the head of a criminal organization. A police car was parked in front of the restaurant. Two police officers in their early forties stood armed with SP2022 handguns at their hips, and each had a Ruger machinegun held at the ready, as though waiting for something.

  “Do they look overly eager for police officers in Nice?” Sam asked.

  Tom looked up from where he’d been distracted by the flirtatious smile of a tall brunette. “Who?”

  “The police out the front of the restaurant. Do you think they appear unusually ready with their weapons in a place like this?”

  “We live in a dangerous world. Who can say?” Tom replied, nonplussed.

  “I can say. My guess is they work for him.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” Tom began walking toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s.”

  The two walked into le Royale.

  A waiter immediately approached them and said in perfect English, “Mr. Reilly and Mr. Bower, I presume?”

  Sam nodded his head.

  “Good. Right this way. He’s waiting for you.”

  The waiter sat them out the front of the restaurant, in the sidewalk seating area. There, a man in his fifties was waiting by himself.

  The man was slim and wore casual clothes, made by a local and impeccable designer. He had a full head of brown hair. If there was any greying, the man had dyed it well. With blue eyes and a bright smile, the man stood up to greet them, as though they were old friends catching up over lunch.

  “Sam Reilly?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Sam replied, offering his hand. “And this is my friend Tom Bower.”

  The man took it cordially, and said, “My name is Vincent Dubois. I have taken the liberty of ordering you both something for lunch. I own the restaurant, but even so, I believe the food is excellent. Do you have time for lunch?”

  Sam looked around and saw the police officers staring at him. “Of course.”

  “Good. Because I cannot do business with a man who dismisses a good meal at lunchtime.” Vincent laughed at his own joke. “Wine?”

  He poured three glass before Sam could reply.

  “And I take it you own the police officers too?”

  “We are a civilized society my friend. I cannot own the police officers. Let’s just say that I merely pay into their social fund each week, so they have a vested interest in my wellbeing.” Vincent smiled. “Tell me. Why are you interested in the Arcane Stone?”

  Sam took in the man’s personality in an instant. He was being played with. “For the same reason as everyone else, of course. I want to find Atlantis.”

  “But surely you must know that Atlantis was a myth, created by Plato to torment the gullible minds of the Greeks and now you Americans?”

  “Ah, that’s most likely true, but I have a friend who has found herself in a certain kind of trouble, having gone looking for Atlantis, and now it’s my job to get her out of it. And you just happen to have the only clue that points to where she might have gone.”

  “Ah, so you are not so gullible after all, Mr. Reilly. You are doing this for honor? That is good. I have it. You may have it for the agreed upon price of 10 million euros. Would you like to examine it?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Vincent made the slightest of curt nods, and a waiter came out an instant later. Removing the cloche revealed what Sam had come for.

  The Arcane Stone.

  It glowed unnaturally orange. It wasn’t gold, but it wasn’t copper either. And the luster was no less impressive than had it been pure gold. Even at the glance, Sam knew he was looking at the real Arcane Stone. He’d never seen real orichalcum, but this matched every description that Plato revealed of the alloy found only in Atlantis.

  “I’m going to have to take a small sample for metallurgical analysis.”

  “Of course. But if you break it you bought it.”

  “Only if it is indeed the Arcane Stone.”

  “I may be a criminal, but I’m no fool. I don’t try to rip people off for 10 million euros. My reputation is worth more than that!”

  Sam used his laser cutter and removed a fraction off the base, no more than a quarter of an ounce. “I will need to have this examined by a metallurgist before I make the purchase.”

  “Of course.”

  Sam nodded his head to another diner, who stood up, left the bill and came over to pick up the tiny metal fragment.

  “I’ll have the results for you within the hour Mr. Reilly.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Ramsay.”

  Vincent smiled at him. “A friend of yours?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to entrust 10 million euros to my high school level chemistry, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  The waiter returned to remove the artifact, and replace it with two plates. Sam put a hand on the artifact. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to have that stay right here. Not that I mistrust you or your men, Vincent, but I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the temptation to cheat me, either.”

  The waiter looked to Vincent for direction. “It’s okay Luc. You can leave it on the table. After all, they’ll pay for it before they leave.”

  Sam looked down at the escargot with just the slightest hint of uncertainty. Next to it, the waiter left the artifact, glowing with a rich orange and red luster.

  Vincent smiled. “Please, be my guest. Start eating. My lunch is still coming.”

  Sam’s stomach rumbled at the strange sight, but he forced himself to eat them. Despite its appearance, his lunch tasted every bit as divine as he’d expected from fine French cuisine.

  “Delicious!” Sam said.

  Vincent smiled. “Good, because I’ve always found them disgusting. That’s why I ordered the lobster.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parked facing a southerly direction, the engine of a single all-terrain vehicle idled at the onramp of Boulevard Jean Jaurès. Inside, Tom sat in the driver’s seat. Elise had arranged for the car to be left there for him at the edge of the old town of Le Vieux Nice. It was a Hummer H1, the original military version of the all-terrain vehicle, equipped with all the modern conveniences of a military vehic
le, such as waterproof and gas proof interior with its own air supply, bullet proof windows and anti-mine undercarriage. Elise wasn’t taking any more chances with their lives.

  Tom had left Sam inside the restaurant, happily conversing with Vincent in fluent French, while he waited for approval to make the purchase of the Arcane Stone. Sam and Vincent had agreed on a standard untraceable Bitcoin transaction to a predetermined digital wallet of Vincent’s choosing. When Tom had left, it amazed him that Sam should so readily befriend the head of such a notorious criminal organization.

  Sometimes he forgot that Sam had lived a multitude of lives for a very long time. In fact, when he thought about it, Tom had no real idea when Sam had begun splitting his lives. He now knew about the event in Afghanistan in 2003, when Sam had been recruited for his specialized knowledge and skills set – Tom could only imagine that it was a euphemism for rich spy. Then there was the life he shared with his father, James Reilly who owned Global Shipping, the third largest cargo company in the world. James had a God complex, in which he really did feel he was superior to everyone. Last there was the guy he’d grown up with, competed with throughout high school and in the Corps – he was the man whose word was his honor, a binding contract without reservation; who had a powerful sense of duty that guided his every judgement.

  But what about this man? The one that could purchase from a ruthless criminal, because he needed something from the man. Tom wondered how far this Sam Reilly would break the rules if he needed to. And then he knew he’d already had the answer – the depths of the darkest world.

  Tom’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone.

  “Was it what you were after?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. You can pass on to my banker that I’d like to complete the transfer and to please have the engines on my jet running, so we can leave.”