Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) Read online

  Sam stared at the Five Treasures of Snow from Tiger Hill. More than a dozen tourists looked up at the great mountains. In the morning, the place would be overrun with hundreds of them, all searching for the perfect shot of the golden peaks at sunrise. He took out his tablet and checked some notes that Billie had made. This was the spot. That much was certain, but where was the rock?

  He looked at Lakpa, the younger of the two Sherpas. “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Yes, many years ago. We came to pray to the Five Treasures of Snow.”

  “Have you ever seen a rock like this?”

  Lakpa examined the old drawings of the rock. “Yes. The locals say that it is a holy rock. It is made from granite, which is not found for hundreds of miles from here. They say that it was a gift from their gods.”

  “Then why don’t the crowds of people form there?” Sam asked, with genuine curiosity.

  “Because the original people of these mountains, the Kusunda people, have forbidden it. They say that only the true ancients of the region are allowed to go there and pray.” Lakpa looked up at Sam and asked, “Why do you ask?”

  “Because that’s where I need to be tomorrow when the sun first strikes the Five Treasures of Snow.”

  Lakpa frowned. “I’m afraid it’s forbidden.”

  “We have to be there for tomorrow’s sunrise. If we aren’t, then we have wasted our time with this entire expedition.”

  Lakpa spoke to his father in his native language in rapid succession. And then looked back at Sam and Tom. “My father says, if it is that important to you, he will show you where it is. But that we can’t go with you. The Gods will be angry, and he strongly advises you not to climb the mountains afterwards.”

  “I understand the risk. But I need to do so.”

  Lakpa nodded. “I understand.”

  They reached the granite boulder approximately two hours later. It was west of Tiger Hill by a further two miles. Their guides refused to climb it, or even walk to its base. Lapka advised them that he and his father would be resting near the helicopter after sunrise tomorrow. Sam and Tom both thanked him and began climbing the boulder.

  It was roughly the size of a small house, and appeared as though God himself had placed it there. The hills of Sikkim and specifically Tiger Hill consist of half-schistose rocks, producing a shallow brown clay soil, highly susceptible to erosion. By contrast, the hard and massive granite boulder had survived thousands of years of erosion from the environment, with little to no change in its appearance.

  Sam reached the top of the ancient boulder first. He looked north toward the Five Treasures of Snow. The main peak and its immediate satellites take the form of a giant cross straddling the borders of three countries – Nepal, Tibet, and the once independent kingdom but now Indian state of Sikkim. From what he’d read, the great cluster of peaks was highly glaciated and cradled five major glacial systems. Three of these, the Zemu, Talung, and Rathong, lie to the east of the massif and flow into Sikkim, eventually feeding the mighty Tista River. In Nepal, to the west, the Kangchenjunga and Yalung glaciers form the major sources of the Tamur River. The region is called Five Treasures of Snow after its five high peaks, and has always been worshipped by the people of Darjeeling and Sikkim.

  “This is it,” Sam said, reverently.

  Tom stared up at the mountains in the distance, his face pensive.

  “It’s going to be somewhere up there, isn’t it?”

  “I’m afraid so. Anywhere else, someone would have found it by now.”

  The two men made camp on the rock, and that night the two of them ate a dinner of hot stew before going to bed early in preparation for the next day. The sky was clear, and from their vantage point the millions of stars blended into the horizon, so that it was hard for your imagination not to run wild, and your spirit dream.

  “Do you think she’s all right?” Tom asked.

  “Billie? Are you kidding me? That woman’s tougher than rusty nails and smarter than either of us. She’ll have a plan. They won’t kill her. Certainly not until they’ve found Atlantis. And while she holds that card above them, she will have all the time in the world to find a solution.”

  “And that solution is that we reach Atlantis first.”

  “And we will,” Sam said and then went to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  At 4 a.m., Sam woke up and prepared for sunrise.

  Tom drank from a warm thermos of tea.

  “Based on the translations of the ancient texts that Billie discovered on the walls of Atlantis, when placed at the center of this rock Arcane Stone would allow the viewer to redirect the sunlight of the first light to the precise location of the secret opening. Impossible to visualize from the ground, it allows a climber to descend into its heart.”

  “But if the sun changes based on the time of the year, surely it must now be inaccurate?”

  “That’s true. But the ancient Atlantean people were smarter than you give them credit for. If you look closely at our new toy, you will see that it rotates around an axis, in which twelve different settings may be selected.”

  “The months of the year?”

  “Precisely.”

  Sam handed Tom the device to examine again.

  He rotated its base with the sound of a small click and said, “Twelve settings. The first being highlighted by a snowflake, presumably winter solstice and a sun for summer solstice?”

  “It’s the start of July, so shall we set it to the next setting after Summer?”

  “No, if the Sun reflects summer solstice, then we need to rotate one setting backwards, for the month before the hottest day of the year.”

  “Good point.”

  Sam cleared away some of the petals of the giant rhododendron flowers, which had built up on the large boulder.

  Then he felt it.

  His fingers clearly dipped into the middle of the rock.

  It wasn’t a deep indentation, but certainly too specific to be caused by natural erosion. Once he’d cleared it of leaves and petals, he placed the base of the Arcane Stone into the groove.

  The stem sunk perfectly into it and the device locked.

  “Now what?” Tom asked.

  “Now, we wait for the sun to rise.”

  At precisely 5:05 the sun came over the mountain.

  Sam stared through the looking glass.

  Instantly the orange glow of the sunlight moved from where it shone on the first mountain to midway up the third – Kangchenjunga.

  Sam took a GPS Laser Pointer and marked the location on the mountain.

  “Well, Tom. There’s our mountain.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let’s go inform our guides that they’re helping us climb the world’s most lethal mountain.”

  An hour later, Sam found the two guides sitting by the helicopter. Dmitri, their pilot, was asleep in the cockpit.

  “Lakpa, we’ve picked our mountain.”

  “Good. Which one?”

  “Kangchenjunga.”

  “Kangchenjunga? And what year would you like to climb?”

  “This. Starting today, to be exact.”

  The man laughed, and then stopped suddenly. “You are serious?”

  “Yes. How long will it take?”

  “A week,” Lakpa said. Then, turning to speak to his father, who, he advised them, was the best climber in all the Himalayas.

  The two conversed in their native tongue. A short, fast, discussion.

  “My father says you are both very brave. And must be great climbers to even consider such a mountain. Where have you climbed previously?”

  “You can tell him that we have climbed extensively through the Dolomite Mountain Ranges – last season to be exact.”

  Lakpa spoke with his father and then back to them.

  “My father says the Dolomite Mountains are excellent for technical skills, but you need endurance as well as skills to climb Kangchenjunga.�
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  Sam grinned.

  He wasn’t about to tell his new found admirer that his recent climbing experience, in its entirety involved a three-day weekend hike along the Via Ferrata, or iron stairway, in Italy while searching for The Magdalena – a Jewish airship lost while escaping Nazi Germany.

  “You can tell him that Tom and I are exceedingly fit people. We may not be the greatest climbers that your father has ever set eyes on, but we have stamina and a purpose for a climb that will drive us to succeed where others have failed.”

  “My father says you speak like a true Tiger. But only a Jackal takes money from a fool.”

  “Then tell him that he will be a very rich Jackal, because I have a lot to give, and a purpose that necessitates climbing that mountain. I have to find an ancient temple that I hope will provide answers that may save my friend’s life.”

  Pemba faced Sam, and spoke in perfect English. “I will take you up the Kangchenjunga. But when you fail, I will not risk my life, nor the lives of my men, trying to save your stupid self. Is that agreed?”

  “Yes, perfectly.” Sam laughed. “You speak English?”

  “I’ve been guiding English people over these mountains since I was eight years old. Of course I speak bloody English. I only pretend ignorance, because I can’t stand to speak to tourists. But you, I see, are seeking the ancient archives of Atlantis.”

  Tom opened his mouth to speak and then stopped himself, unable to find the right words.

  Sam said, “So, you know about Atlantis?”

  “Of course I do. My people once descended from there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Tsoka Monastery was perched at 12,000 feet and nearing the end of the Goecha La Route. Kanchenjunga stood proud behind them, surrounded by other majestic snow-covered mountains.

  Sam shook Dmitri’s hand and said, “We’ll give you a call in a few months for our return flight.”

  “No problem. I will be waiting for it. Have you decided on a mountain to climb?”

  “No,” Sam lied. “At this stage we’re going to hike the Goecha La Route and acclimatize with the plan to summit one of these mountains before the end of the climbing season.”

  “Good luck.”

  After the helicopter left, the small party began its long walk toward Kanchenjanga. They had more altitude to make up before they reached the place where they would climb. Pemba had told them both it would be impossible to climb the mountain without at least a week to acclimatize.

  Sam had protested that he had no intention of reaching the summit. Only about one third of the way up. Even so, Pemba have provided him with the ultimatum – “Hike in or find another guide.” And so, they began their journey.

  It took them through a thick rhododendron forest, and fir, festooned with lichen and moss, which gave it a truly magical air. At Phedang they passed a large grassy clearing surrounded by large purple rhododendrons.

  Several hours into the journey, Pemba and Lapka led by hundreds of feet. Tom trailed only just behind Sam, not because he couldn’t keep up, but instead because he was enjoying the magnificence of his environment. The Clematis Montana, with its typical purple flowers, encapsulated the mountainside.

  Tom caught up with Sam. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s beautiful here.”

  “Not about the place.” Tom looked up ahead at their guides. “About them?”

  “They seem competent so far.”

  “No. What do you make of their story about descending from Atlantis?”

  “I believe them. How else would they know about it? We hadn’t told them anything about why we wanted to climb Kanchenjanga.”

  Tom looked concerned. “What about their looks? They don’t even look German.”

  “Who said that the people of Atlantis were the great ancestors of Germany?”

  “Hitler did, when he sent Himmler to go in search of the perfect Aryan bloodline.”

  “Hitler said a lot of things that weren’t true when he was driving his propaganda machine. You don’t think he was going to say, ‘Hey, here’s another race who were exceptional. They look nothing like us, but they were really clever.”’

  “Fair point. I just assumed because we found the Arcane Stone in the Dutch National Archives...”

  Sam began explaining. “Neolithic tools found in the Kathmandu Valley indicate that people have been living in the Himalayan region for at least eleven thousand years. Coincidence?”

  “Are you saying these simple folk are descendants of Atlantis?”

  “It’s unlikely,” Sam mused. “But then again. Even you must admit that the coincidence is uncanny. And it just so happens that the oldest known population layer is believed to be represented by the Kusunda people. Do you know where the highest population of Kusunda live?”

  “Let me guess. Somewhere in the Five Treasures of Snow?”

  “Right you are!”

  “So, if these were truly descendants of the ancient people of Atlantis… one question… what happened to them? I mean, look at them. They’re simple mountain people. Living lives which have barely changed in the last 11,000 years. Don’t you think if they came from a master race that had significant powers and technologies back 11,000 years ago, wouldn’t they be living at the top of the world?”

  Sam looked around. “They kind of are.”

  “No, you know what I mean. If some disaster struck America and only a small portion of the population survived… those who did survive, their descendants wouldn’t be living in huts!”

  “Wouldn’t they?”

  “’Course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we’ve come from a civilization that knows about internal plumbing, smartphones, cars! We would be doing just fine.”

  “Yeah, but how many Americans, living the dream, necessarily know how to create it? If you knock off too many, the civilization has to take a step back and look after the priorities. Agriculture, simply supplying enough food and water to live. All the perks of the smartphone generation are pretty much useless if you can’t eat.”

  “And so you’re saying that the Kusunda people are the last survivors of Atlantis?”

  “I’m just saying it’s possible. When you look at the history that their earliest background is approximately 11,000 years ago, it seems like a remarkable coincidence, doesn’t it?”

  “But why here, then? It’s such a hard place to live. Why not further down the mountains?”

  “Why not indeed?” Sam looked up at the mountains above. “What if they knew something we don’t know about our future?”

  “Do you think as far back as 11,000 years ago they were planning on avoiding a second disaster?”

  “I don’t know. But why else would they go to such lengths, as a small group of survivors, to build a new Atlantis in such an inhospitable place?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Landing at the edge of the village, Andrew thought he could imagine these people living this way for thousands of years. He’d gone back in time to when life was simple. Andrew Brandt scrambled out of the passenger seat of the B3 Eurocopter. With him were two helicopters and fourteen mercenaries armed with AK47s. Given the stakes, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The monks of the Tsoka Monastery looked at them with worried faces. They were simple people who had lived on the mountain for thousands of years, but that didn’t mean they didn’t recognize evil when it arrived.

  “Dmitri, you’re sure it was them?”

  “Certain. There were two of them, and they had no idea which mountain they wanted to summit, only that they needed to reach Tiger Hill before sunrise. Then, once they had viewed the sunrise they returned to the helicopter and asked me to drop them as high up the mountain as possible.”

  “Are you certain this is where they went?”

  “Of course I am. I’m telling you, this was where I left them.”

  “Where did they go from here?”

  “No idea. They said t
hey were going climbing for the season. They had my number and said they would call when they were ready. They paid well, and knew I’d come the second they asked.”

  “All right gentlemen. Everyone out. Let’s see what these monks remember about our friends, shall we?”

  “What do you want me to do, boss? Shall I shut her down?” the pilot asked.

  “No, keep your rotors spinning. I want to take off again as soon as we know where they’ve gone.”

  Andrew stepped out of the helicopter.

  He carried an AK 47. It was an old, but effective, weapon. And more importantly, it was one of the most well-known weapons on the planet, which meant it would serve the purpose of creating terror. And frightened people told the truth.

  His men, also armed with AK47s, walked towards the huts. The villagers scattered. An old man was the only one who couldn’t run.

  “Did you see other white people like us?”

  “No, not like you. They weren’t carrying guns.”

  “But did you see where they went?”

  The old man looked concerned. “I’m not sure where they went. Some of our local men helped them. I think they were going on a climbing expedition. I do not know where.”

  Andrew looked at one of his men. “Go find me one of the children.”

  Andrew smiled at the old man while he waited a couple minutes for his men to return with a crying child of around four.

  He smiled at the small boy. “Did you see where the other white people went?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “How about you, old man? Has your memory improved?”

  The man’s toothless smile was the only response.

  Andrew pulled out the pistol from his holster and pointed it at the child’s head. “Okay, everyone. I’m going to kill this boy in ten seconds if I don’t get some answers that I’m looking for. Then I’m going to find another child. Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six…”

  At six second he pulled the trigger, and the rock next to the child’s head exploded.

  The child screamed, and the man holding him, fought to keep him still.

  The boy then bit the soldier’s hand and ran.

  “Holy shit, Andrew!” Dmitri said. “You nearly killed an innocent kid. Do you really want to go through with this?”