The Atlantis Code (35 page)

Metal gleamed at the dead man’s neck under his crossed hands.

Leaning into the burial crypt a little more, Sebastian used a pencil from his pocket to gently shift the shroud to reveal the prize beneath. It belonged to a necklace made of white gold or silver.

The pendant was in the shape of a man with his right hand offered in friendship. He carried a book in his left hand.

“Oh, God,” Sebastian said as recognition of the image seared through his mind. “Forgive us. Forgive what we have done to You and Your Son.”

It was true. All of it.

And if this was true, then the story of the Secret Texts had to be true as well.

Sebastian reached for the necklace with a shaking hand. He touched the metal and felt a small electric shock at contact, but he didn’t know if the sensation was real or imagined.

The skeleton’s arm leaped up and brushed his as if trying to grab it.

Sebastian cried out in fear and jerked back. The back of his head slammed against the crypt and nearly knocked him out. The pain left him dazed as he sat heavily on his posterior.

In the next instant, the skeleton leaped from the alcove and fell against his legs.

Only then did Sebastian realize that the whole cavern was shaking. The skeleton wasn’t moving under its own power. He looked down the row of crypts as several other skeletons vacated their premises and clattered to the stone floor. Embalmed corpses fell, too, with a sound much different from the crack of hard bone against the stone floor.

Lights in the hands of the other men whipped around the cavern’s interior. The panorama of illumination presented a dizzying light show.

Then someone cried out, “Flood!
Flood!
”

It’s happening again
, Sebastian thought.
The sea’s reclaiming Atlantis and the Garden
.

The Swiss Guards grabbed him under the arms and yanked him to his feet as inches of water suddenly covered the stone floor. They ran and pushed him back toward the opening they’d come through. With every step, though, the water swirled higher and higher.

RADISSON SAS HOTEL LEIPZIG
LEIPZIG, GERMANY
SEPTEMBER 4, 2009

Confronted by the hotel security staff, Natasha froze for just a moment as she tried to figure out what to do. She didn’t want to get embroiled with the local security people, and she couldn’t just put down her weapon, because then they’d be sitting ducks for Gallardo’s people.

At that moment Gary stepped out of the lobby area and walked up behind the security men. He leaned over the first man’s shoulder and whispered something.

“Horst,” the first man said as he slowly raised his arms. “He has a gun on me. Surrender.”

The second guard hesitated for just a moment. Then he raised his weapon, too.

Natasha rushed forward and took both men’s weapons. “Down on your faces,” she ordered.

As they got down, Gary flashed her a sickly grin and showed her the ballpoint pen he’d used to run his bluff.

Spare me Americans and Brits and their macho television shows
, Natasha said to herself.

“You could have gotten killed,” she whispered to Gary.

“I kind of planned not to,” he replied hoarsely. “And it wasn’t like I had a lot of time to figure things out.”

“Go.” Natasha pushed him into motion toward the main entrance. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Gallardo start out of the fire escape.

She lifted the pistol and fired rapidly. Her bullets drummed the door and wall. The small inset window emptied in jagged pieces.

Gallardo ducked back into the stairwell and cursed loudly.

By then Lourds, Leslie, and Gary had reached the main entrance. They were through it by the time Natasha arrived. They ran toward the street and tried to flag down a passing taxi, but it kept going.

The next taxi had its light off and obviously had no intention of stopping. Natasha stepped out into the street, drew her own pistol because it wasn’t silenced, and fired into the air.

The flat report echoed across the street, and the muzzle flash reflected in the windshield. Natasha aimed the pistol at the taxi driver.

The taxi screeched to a stop in front of Natasha. Keeping her weapon trained on the driver even though she had no intention of shooting him, she made her way to the driver’s side door.

“Get out,” she told the driver in German.

The driver got out while Lourds helped Leslie into the rear seat. He didn’t join her, though. Instead he sat up front with Natasha. Gary got in on the other side.

As soon as they were aboard, Natasha put her foot down on the accelerator.

“Where are we going?” Lourds asked.

“I don’t know,” Natasha replied.

“The airport,” Leslie said. “I contacted my supervisor earlier and cleared us for a trip to West Africa.”

Natasha looked at the woman sharply. “You did what?”

“Professor Lourds—”

Now we’re back to Professor Lourds?
Natasha wondered.
After you’ve bedded him?

“—has said that he thinks he’s gotten all the information that was possible at the Max Planck Institute,” Leslie continued. “He thinks there are more complete records and ties to our missing artifacts in Africa.”

As she drove, Natasha said, “You’ve been talking to your supervisor this whole time? Telling him what we are doing?”

“Yes.” Leslie looked sullen. “I have to. The corporation has been paying for everything. They deserve to know what we’re up to.”

Natasha looked at Lourds and couldn’t help feeling that part of this was his fault. “You do realize that’s how Gallardo has been keeping tabs on us? Through the BBC’s financial support?”

To his credit, Lourds looked guilty. “No. I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you know it now.” Natasha turned away from him, too angry to speak for the moment. Nothing good would come out of her mouth, and she didn’t want to say anything she’d feel guilty about or regret later. She concentrated on her driving as she looked for a place to dump the taxi. They couldn’t take it all the way to the airport. Surely the driver had already called in his stolen vehicle. It was time for new wheels.

“The woman stopped a taxi in front of the hotel. I will track her through the streets.”

Until she abandons the vehicle
, Gallardo thought as he ran back up the seven stories to the roof. His legs burned from the effort, and panic started to set in when he thought he might not make it.

“No,” Gallardo huffed as he dragged himself up the last flight of stairs. DiBenedetto and Farok followed him. Pietro and Cimino were both down. The sounds of pursuit—footsteps ringing on the steps—echoed after them. “We have bigger problems right now.”

Up on the roof, Gallardo ran and waved his flashlight. He watched the helicopter approach the rooftop and hang in the air only inches from the surface. He ran toward the craft and pulled himself into the passenger seat.

“What about the others?” DiBenedetto asked from the rear section.

“They’re not here,” Gallardo said. “They’re not coming. You wish to die or be captured while we wait for them?” He pulled the headset on and gave the pilot a thumbs-up.

The pilot lifted the helicopter immediately and swung to the west. The emergency plans were clear. They’d planned to get out of the city and drop the helicopter in the trees. Air traffic control might be able to track the chopper, but the police wouldn’t be able to catch them before they drove away in the cars stashed at the staging area outside the city.

But right now Gallardo was less concerned with where they were going than he was with where they’d been.

Back on the hotel rooftop, the doors from the stairwell opened again and two of Gallardo’s hired help rushed out. They stood and stared after the departing helicopter.

Only seconds later, hotel security staff flanked by Leipzig police officers came through the door. Muzzle flashes lit up the night briefly as the two men exchanged fire with the police and security guards. When it ended, both of Gallardo’s hired men were down.

Quietly, Gallardo damned Lourds. The linguistics professor was having an incredible run of luck. But there would be an accounting. No one’s luck lasted forever. He turned to DiBenedetto.

“Did you get the chance to raid the professor’s room?”

DiBenedetto nodded and handed over the book bag holding all the papers and books he’d been able to get from Lourds’s hotel room.

Gallardo searched through the bag. Most of the information seemed to be centered on West Africa, and on a single tribe. He smiled. At least they had a probable destination to check out if the professor disappeared.

“Natasha has a point,” Lourds said quietly. “Gallardo and his men have managed to dog our heels. Your continued contact with your employer could present a danger to us.”

Leslie glared at him in exasperation. “I understand that she has a point. Truly I do. But I also have a point: Without the backing of my corporation, we wouldn’t be here. And we won’t be able to continue. Unless you think we can hitchhike to Dakar?” Spots of color darkened her face as they sat in an all-night diner.

Gary was at the counter flirting with the female cashier. She’d been drawn to the concert T-shirt he was wearing that featured a German speed metal band. Lourds thought the cameraman was definitely having a better time than he was.

“No,” Lourds said finally. “I don’t think we could hitchhike to Dakar.”

“Good. At least that’s something.”

“I don’t think she was accusing you of betraying us—”

“Trust me,” Leslie said, “I know an accusation when I hear one. That was definitely an accusation.”

“Do you really think she would believe you would risk your own life by telling Gallardo and his minions where we were?”

“Maybe you should ask her. She’s the one with all the answers. Maybe she believes I think getting shot at serves some special, twisted kink I have.”

Lourds frowned. He hated getting in the middle of a war of wills between women. On one hand, it could be dangerous for everyone. On the other, they could join forces at any moment and come after him together. In many ways, he worried about that danger more than he worried about getting shot at.

“Perhaps you might ask your supervisor to see if he couldn’t get us the money he agreed to let us use in a different fashion.”

Leslie crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you could call Harvard and ask them for the money to fund an expedition to Dakar?”

Lourds sipped his green tea and thought about that. He almost laughed. He’d have a better chance of hitchhiking to West Africa. Especially since he couldn’t tell them what the expedition was really about.

“No,” he said. “You’re right.” He paused. “We’re not in a good spot. The question right now is whether we should continue, knowing these people are out there trying to kill us.”

“Could you actually walk away from this thing right now? Just forget about it after we’ve come this far? Do you know what kind of story this is going to be?”

“This isn’t a game, Leslie. Those people murdered one friend of mine and almost killed another. And that doesn’t count all the other corpses they’ve left scattered in their wake. Remember how they killed your producer?”

“Do you want them to get away with that? Do you want them to get whatever it is they’re after? Don’t you want to save the artifacts?”

“This is too big for us,” he said. “We need to get help.”

“We went to the police. In Alexandria, remember? They didn’t do anything. The only police that seems to be interested in acting on this is Natasha.”

“She has a vested interest. They killed her sister.”

“So do you. They’ve been shooting at you for days. They nearly killed your neighbor. Just think, if you hadn’t been there the day they took the bell, we wouldn’t have had a clue about what was going on.”

“We still don’t.”

“Then why are we going to Dakar?”

Lourds didn’t answer. She had a point, but he didn’t have to admit it.

“I don’t think it’s just because you’d like to go to West Africa,” Leslie said. She leaned in closer to him. “You believe there’s an answer there.” Her eyes held his. “You
believe
it.”

Seeing the desire for knowledge in her eyes, Lourds felt his own need to know fanned to a fever pitch. “Maybe.”

“Why do you think something’s there?”

“Because the Yoruba culture is the oldest we’ve yet encountered. Because I’ve seen hints that they had these instruments at one time. If these instruments all came from one area, it stands to reason that they came from the oldest known civilization.”

“Then we need to go there.”

“Those men may be waiting,” Lourds said.

“And they may be waiting back home for you as well,” Natasha said.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lourds found her standing there. He hadn’t even heard Natasha approach. It was another grim reminder that he was clearly out of his element while dealing with dangerous felons.