by Nick Thacker
He sat down on a rock just as Mrs. E, Ben, and Julie crested the rise and joined him. No one spoke, and Ben reached down and placed a hand on his shoulder.
It’s over, he thought.
57
Julie
“NOW WHAT?” JULIE ASKED, breathing heavy as she slumped down, hands on her knees. She was exhausted, the events of the last few hours wasting the moments of rest she’d gotten when they’d first landed in Santorini.
She knew the others were, too. Ben was heaving, his larger frame obviously finding the climb and race up the pathway to the top of the Nea Kameni crater difficult. Reggie, too, seemed beat.
Beaten is a better word for it, she thought.
The only one among them who seemed to be completely fine was Mrs. E, who’d recovered from her kick and brief tussle with the gunman and was now standing with her hands on top of her head, waiting for the rest of them to decide on a course of action.
She was older than all of them, and almost old enough to be Julie’s mother. But the woman they all only knew as ‘Mrs. E’ was a trained professional fighter, an expert in Krav Maga and other hand-to-hand combat, and generally in better shape than Julie would have thought possible.
She was the polar opposite of her husband. Mr. E liked to solve problems with his mind — he was brilliant, an investor and businessman, and he had singlehandedly grown his startup into one of the world’s largest telecommunications companies and kept it under tight personal control.
The couple couldn’t have been more different — Mrs. E was tall, thick in a muscular way, and extremely outgoing. Mr. E was essentially a recluse. Julie had never met the man in person. He hid behind television screens and always appeared gaunt, even sickly.
But his intelligence and careful planning had gotten them out of more than one sticky situation in the past. Julie wished they could call him now and give him an update.
Instead, they were alone on top a volcano, all of their phones trashed by the seawater and totally useless. They were tired, wet, and being pursued by Interpol and the local police, and now they had no leads as to the whereabouts of Sarah Lindgren.
“That helicopter was a Sikorsky S-92,” Reggie said.
“So?” Ben asked.
“It’s a long-range chopper, used for offshore oil rig deployments. Total range exceeds 600 miles.”
Ben stared down at his friend. “…So?” he said again.
Reggie shrugged. “Well, if it was fueled up somewhere here on the island, that means Sarah could eventually end up 600 miles away from here.”
Julie’s heart sank. “Which means she can end up 600 miles in any direction.”
Reggie looked up at her, then shook his head. “Not necessarily.” He stood up slowly, then pointed southeast, toward the edge of the main island, where the thinner strip of Akrotiri lay at the southern edge of the bay. “The chopper went that way.”
“Back to Santorini?” Ben asked. “Why would they go back there? They just came from there.”
“I know,” Reggie said. “They didn’t. I’m almost positive. Think about it — a long-range chopper, fully fueled — it could haul all the way over the Aegean Sea and the Mediterranean. And they’re heading that direction.”
“What’s after Santorini that way?” Ben asked. “Crete?”
“Close, but Crete’s too far to the west. I think they’re heading somewhere else entirely. And if I’m right, I think it could be a major clue about what this is all about.”
Julie waited for Reggie to take a breath and continue.
“We’re thinking about this all wrong, guys. They nabbed Sarah’s old man first, because he knew something about Atlantis that they wanted covered up.”
“Right.”
“And they wanted it covered up badly enough they were willing to kidnap his daughter, too. Probably as leverage until they get whatever they think her father has. So we’re dealing with an organization here, probably more than just a few people. They’ve got resources — enough that renting or buying a Sikorsky and some thugs with rocket-propelled grenade launchers isn’t that big a deal to them. So we’ve got a twisted, angry billionaire situation or we’ve got a twisted, angry group of people who’ve got something to prove and enough resources to use to prove it. I think it makes more sense to assume it’s not just one person doing all this.”
“I’d agree with that,” Julie said.
“And whoever we’re dealing with has a thing for the past — their interest in Atlantis, kidnapping an archeologist, and an anthropologist. Whatever they want, it has something to do with ancient history, before Plato even wrote down his thoughts on the mystery civilization.
“Remember in his writings? He’s basically telling us that he didn’t come up with this stuff. He heard it from a guy who’d traveled.”
Julie’s eyes widened. “Solon.”
“Exactly.”
“And he traveled to Egypt.”
Reggie smiled at her. “Right again. And there’s plenty of evidence to suggest that Atlantis and the ancient Egyptians were somehow connected. They’re relatively close to one another, if you think about it — not even an ocean apart.”
“I’d bet not even 600 miles apart,” Ben said.
“That’s what I’m thinking, Reggie said. “I need a map to be sure, but I’d put a lot of money down on the bet that there’s nothing in that direction for 600 miles until you hit Egypt. Specifically, Cairo. It’s right on the Mediterranean, right at the mouth of the Nile.”
Julie grinned. “That’s got to be it, Reggie. It has to be. Sarah’s going to Cairo.”
“Well, that’s all great,” Ben said. “But how are we going to get to Cairo?”
“Right,” Mrs. E said. “We cannot exactly float back to the mainland — the police and Interpol are looking for you.”
“Looking for us.”
Mrs. E turned and gave Ben a questioning look, then put her hands up. “They do not know who I am, remember?” she smiled. “I was just a passing boater who happened to pick you up. They were shooting at you, not me.”
“Well fine,” Reggie said. “We’ll be sure to send you to make any public appearances on our behalf, then.”
“Guys,” Julie said. “Still not sure how we’re supposed to get all the way to Egypt. We’re on the middle of an island, in the middle of another island, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.”
Before anyone could answer, Julie heard the sound of a boat speeding their way. It was closing in fast, obviously more powerful and sleeker in the water than the boat Mrs. E had piloted.
“Get away from the edge,” Reggie said. “Probably the local police, coming to check out why there was a fireworks show out here.”
“No,” Julie said. “There’s only one person on the boat. Can’t be cops.”
She looked down over the edge of the cliff as the others sidled in next to her. Sure enough a single silhouette was visible on the narrow vessel, a single driver with no passengers. And even in the dark, Julie could tell that it was small enough of a craft that there was no room to hide anyone anywhere on board.
“That’s… weird,” Ben said. “Maybe a local fisherman?”
“Heck of a boat for a late-night fisherman.”
The boat was traveling faster than Julie had originally thought. It was up on plane, but the bow of the craft was still feet out of the water, the motor housing on the rear end deep beneath the surface. It was going to be less than a minute before their new visitor arrived.
“Should we go down and see what’s up?” Ben asked.
“I think so,” Julie said. “But Reggie, you still have that flare gun?”
58
Ben
THE TRIP DOWN THE EDGE of the volcano was much quicker than the way up, mostly because they weren’t worried about someone trying to blow them up. They jogged down the three switchbacks and landed on the gravely shore, the twisted and smoking remnants of the boat dock floating among the gashed and charred remains of the boat.
Looks like a battlefield scene, Ben thought. Unreal.
He was nearly dry, but his shirt was still heavy with dampness, and the effect in the cool night air was to make him feel almost cold. He stopped next to Julie, watching with interest as the man — curly-haired, young, and fit — jumped out of the boat.
“I know that kid,” Reggie said quietly, standing on Ben’s right.
“You know him?”
“I’ve definitely seen him before. No idea where, though.”
The ‘kid,’ a young man in his early twenties, walked over, holding up a hand as a peace offering. Ben tried to examine his person, to see if he was carrying a weapon or otherwise hiding something. He’d had enough getting shot at for one night.
“Hey there,” the man said. “Name’s Alexander. Alexander Whipple.” He stuck out a hand and Mrs. E — confident in her own abilities, should the kid try something stupid — shook it.
Reggie’s mouth dropped. “Alex Whipple? You were in the field with… you know Sarah?”
Alex laughed. “Dr. Lindgren, yes. I’m one of her students. We were together in Michigan.”
“We’re a long way from Michigan, son,” Reggie said.
Ben frowned. Reggie sounded almost patronizing, as if he was intimidated by the young man. Ben had to admit that Alex was rather handsome — attractive features, a healthy crop of dark hair, and he was almost as tall as Ben. He even still had the lean figure of youth.
Maybe Reggie’s jealous, Ben thought, smiling. This should be fun.
Alex kept his calm composure. “Yeah, I know. Sorry to barge in on you like this, but — uh, where’s Dr. Lindgren?”
Ben felt Reggie tense up next to him. Calm down, buddy, he thought. He knew Reggie was currently a tightly wound spring, but he hoped he could hold it together a bit longer. No sense getting us into more trouble tonight.
“Sarah’s — not here,” Julie said. “Why are you here?”
He held up his phone, which had a map and a dot on it. The blue dot was in the middle of the waters between Santorini and Nea Kameni. “This is Sarah’s location, according to my phone. As of about thirty minutes ago.”
Reggie bolted forward, stopped only by Ben’s hold on his left arm.
“You’re tracking her?” Reggie shouted.
“Whoa, no,” Alex said. “I’m — this is just the app we use to keep track of each other. She had it on and running on her phone, but it lost signal on the way here.”
Reggie was seething, but Ben knew it was more about Sarah’s kidnapping than anything this kid was saying. Ben knew the feeling — someone the man loved was being threatened, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He’d be acting the same way if it were Julie in this situation — she had been, after all, and he was acting the exact same way.
“What do you know about Sarah?” Reggie asked, his voice still faltering. “Where is she?”
Alex seemed surprised by Reggie’s intensity, and he backed up a few steps, now standing in a few inches of water. “I — I don’t know, man. Like I said, I’ve been following a dot on a screen. I was flying back to Cairo to visit family, but something she said at her apartment had me shaken up. I mean, she was really weird about it. Like something big was going on.
“I thought she would have told me she was flying all the way to Greece, but no — nothing. So when I landed in Cairo and saw she was heading this direction, I took a flight in. It’s only like sixty bucks for a one-way, and with the money she gave me I found a cheap —“
“Alex,” Julie said, snapping her finger. “Focus. Why are you here?”
“Right,” he said. “Sorry. I flew in and was on my way to the hotel, but her dot moved again and she ended up here.” He paused. “Or… right in the middle of the ocean.”
“She’s alive, buddy,” Julie said. “Don’t worry. But someone took her.”
“Took her?”
“Yeah.”
“Who — why would they —“
“Alex, calm down,” Ben said, stepping forward and grabbing the kid’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. We’re with a group that’s been sent out to find her and get her back. We’re on the case, and we’re not going to stop until she’s back.”
He nodded. “O — okay. So…”
“So don’t worry about us, and don’t worry about her,” Ben said. “Why don’t you head back into town? We’re staying at a hotel in the area, and we’ve got four rooms. You’re welcome to one of them.”
“But I wanted to come out here to make sure —“
Ben felt Reggie’s hand on his shoulder as he spoke. “You know, kid,” he said. “Before you go, we could use a ride.”
59
Reggie
WHO IS THIS GUY? REGGIE thought. And why is he so concerned about Sarah?
They were speeding back to the edge of the Akrotiri peninsula of Santorini, the southernmost tip of the circular island. The idea was that while the police would be searching for them, and their Interpol friend would certainly have his feelers out for their location, the CSO group might be able to sneak back onto the mainland for a few minutes while they waited for their ride.
Their ride, in this case, was a private jet that had been arranged by Mr. E. Now that they had a working cellphone, thanks to the young newcomer Alexander Whipple, the group was taking turns borrowing the phone and planning out their next course of action.
Thanks to the GSM-ready chip in the phone and Santorini’s relatively small geographic footprint, cellular service on Alex’s phone was strong and reliable. Reggie used it first, discovering that Cairo, Egypt was in fact just a little over 550 miles from their location, and it was in exactly the direction they’d thought. They’d determined that Cairo was as good a place as any to continue the search, and once they were on the ground they’d be able to further hone their search radius.
Mrs. E had then called her husband and filled them in, and he had arranged for a private Learjet coop to lend him a transport for their team. The plane would be able to travel faster than the Sikorsky, so they might be able to make up some lost time in the air. They were to meet the pilot, a man who owned a private airstrip on the southern side of the island, in an hour. He assured them he would have the plane fueled up and ready for departure as soon as their Uber arrived onsite.
Akrotiri was miles away from the main Santorini metropolitan area, and plenty far away from where the local authorities had intercepted them. From there, the plane ride would be about five hours, after which they’d land in Cairo and drive to wherever it was they thought their next clue led.
The problem was, Reggie knew, was that they didn’t have the next clue. He hoped that the plane ride would allow them some time to relax, rest, and come up with a solid plan to track down Sarah. If there were lucky, they’d also find Sarah’s father where they found her.
Finally, Alex called one of his professors back at his university, a man he claimed was a mentor and a well-respected geneticist. He had Mrs. E drive the boat while he sat in the stern bucket seat and conversed with the professor. Reggie wasn’t sure what had him so excited, but Alex was animated, talking with his hands and nearly dropping the phone a few times.
What a nerd, Reggie thought. He tried to recall where he’d seen the kid. He was almost positive he’d never met him, but there must have been something…
That’s it. He remembered a picture on one of Sarah’s social media profiles, where she was standing in front of a massive cliff with a few of her students. Alex was one of the students, and he was standing close to his professor.
Very close to her.
Reggie shook the thought away. I’m not the jealous type.
Or am I?
He smiled, realizing that this kid, some twerp from Sarah’s university, had nothing on him. He was military trained, chiseled, fit, and far more experienced — in every way — than the young twenty-something.
Still… Reggie couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something els
e going on between his latest fling and her student.
They were almost at the northern beach of Akrotiri, and Mrs. E informed them all that they’d be docking within five minutes.
Reggie walked back to the rear end of the boat as they powered in toward the dark shoreline, confronting Alex.
“What was that all about?”
“Just talking to my genetics professor.”
“About… genetics?”
Alex smiled. “Yes.”
“Anything in particular? We’re sort of under a bit of a crunch, so I find it odd you’re chatting nonchalantly about some midterm assignment.”
“It’s not about an assignment,” Alex said, his composure immediately darkening. “It’s about something Dr. Lindgren and I were working on.”
“You and Sarah were in the field together, yeah?” Reggie asked.
“We were. In Michigan. Trying to prove the existence of a nontraditional settlement route to the Americas.”
“A non… you mean something besides the ‘walked over the frozen ice bridge’ route?”
“Exactly,” Alex said. “The Berengia Passage is a proven route early settlers walked to reach the Americas. But Dr. Lindgren strongly believed that there was another route, one that potentially predated the Strait by millennia.”
“By millennia?” Reggie asked.
“Maybe. I’m not sure she her ideas have been well-received, but I came along as the geneticist, to provide a different anthropological perspective that what she might have been able to explore on her own.”
“And?”
Alex’s demeanor changed. Where he was at first dark, a bit taken off guard, and possibly angry, he was now lit with an exuberance and excitement Reggie hadn’t seen in days. “And I just heard that my professor and mentor received my studies and hypothesis, and he feels it’s worthy of a second look.”
“You’re excited because your professor told you your study wasn’t complete junk? Man, you academic types are so fickle.”
