The Atlantis Keystone

by Caroline Väljemark

  “Torpa is still the obvious place to look for the tablet. Who would be stupid enough to carry something like this around. And someone clearly gave the photo of it to Paul when he was at Torpa. Unless someone later transferred the tablet from its thirty year old hiding place, it’s still there; waiting for us to find!” In her excitement at the thought, she kissed Erik on the cheek. “I’ve missed you! It’s so good to see you!”

  “I’ve missed you too. You should know that I’ve been thinking about asking you to come over here many times but I wanted to give you time.”

  “Time for what?” she asked. Erik hesitated. He thought about Paul. He didn’t want to spoil the moment. “To let me work?”

  “Yes…”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve made excellent progress on my dissertation. It’s looking good and even Mary seems satisfied. She’s also given me some useful hints. Apparently Paul told her a few of his decipherment theories on his visit to Athens, to use her as a sounding board. As a result she had suspected already then that he might have had the tablet in his possession. He wasn’t very careful with what he said; not a very good criminal, bless him. She had reasoned that some of the things he had said didn’t make sense unless he had been able to read a bilingual text. I suspect that’s why she warned you about him.”

  “Perhaps… I can’t believe you told her about the photo of the tablet!” Erik said with disbelief and a hint of repulsion. “Can we trust her?”

  Emma was surprised. “Weren’t you the one who trusted her when she said Paul could not be trusted? You defended her then; what’s changed? She even proved to be right about Paul; or very likely so! And besides, she would never tell the police. She’s a true academic, just like Paul. Almost everything goes in pursuit of science and new discoveries.”

  “Not very ethical but I suppose we can’t both be wrong about Mary. I still trust her. She seems an honest person who would stick to her word… Did she know anything else? Had Paul told her anything?”

  “No, not according to her. I asked her. She didn’t know for sure that he was up to something until I told her about the trail and the photo.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  They had the house to themselves when they arrived an hour later. Britt-Marie had gone back home and his parents were still away. He noticed with joy that the fridge had been restocked and the house cleaned in the couple of hours he had been away. Probably Britt-Marie’s doing, he guessed.

  “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  “Mmm yes, tea please! Can we take it in the library? The lovely chair in there has featured in my dreams over the last few weeks! I can’t wait to sit in it in front of the fire again.”

  Erik laughed at her and carried a tray with tea and some homemade buns which Britt-Marie had left behind. Her love of Torpa amused and pleased him. It reminded him of Anna. More than ever he felt like kissing her there and then. He lit the fire and they sat together on her favourite chair, listening to the flames spitting and cracking, drinking their tea and talking about their pleasant and unpleasant shared experiences – all with some connection to the godforsaken Torpa tablet.

  “I have to say that although with hindsight I probably shouldn’t have started the search for the half tablet all those months ago, I can’t say that I regret it, even despite Paul’s sticky situation. At least I met you!” Erik looked at her. She stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. In a reflex reaction he took her hand and held it against his cheek for a split second before slowly releasing it. “Erik, you should know that you’ve become very important to me.” With this she walked over to the bookshelf with the journals and reached out for the journal covering the year 1976.

  “Have you looked in this properly? This was the year when your grandmother, or whoever it was, must have uncovered the tablet in the chest in the space in the wall. It could give some clues as to where it was hidden. It must have happened two or three months after you were born, so around December of 1975. Now that we know this more exact timing it should be easier.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve actually read through the whole thing, if that’s what you mean.”

  “You should, starting now if you don’t mind. I would love to myself but my Swedish still isn’t great.”

  “Not far off though!” he laughed, referring to her undoubted linguistic ability. Whilst she went to find her laptop so she could start work on her dissertation, he did as she had suggested and started to go through the thick collection of journals of 1976 from the start. He quickly realised that it was even more boring than the earlier ones, merely book keeping, a record of purchases and income, as well as assets and liabilities. Obviously, he didn’t find the same gruesome comments about death-count that he had found in the journals from the middle ages, just plain numbers and short descriptions. There was nothing of interest at all, although he noted that the estate was in excellent economic health.

  It had been nearly an hour since he had started to look through the journals. He was nearing the end and was on the brink of throwing the book in the fire in a fit of rage due to its boring content when he suddenly spotted a thin bit of paper tucked between a couple of the fragile pages. Someone had cut out an article from the local paper and stuck it in there. The paper had gone a bit yellow from age but was still intact. The article was brief and had the title ‘Has he found the escape route from Torpa?’ It proclaimed that a local plumber had found an historic relic during works to equip the estate with new drain pipes. What he had found was believed to be the entrance to the old escape route leading from the house to the other side of the smaller of the two lakes on the estate. It had been mentioned in history books and was known to have been built for the purpose of serving as an escape route if the estate’s defenders had to surrender to their enemies, the Danish, hundreds of years before. The article continued saying that following the find the entrance had quickly been covered up again. It said that lack of funds had made any excavation of the old underground tunnel impossible and it was too dangerous to leave open as it was as the tunnel was unstable and liable to collapse. Erik was surprised at this, given what he had just seen in the journals – the estate’s economy was good. He was also surprised that although he had grown up on the estate and had spent all his life there, he had never heard any mention of an underground passageway. It had been forgotten or ignored but either way must have fallen into oblivion.

  “Emma, look at this article here. Apparently Torpa had an underground passage way!” He translated the article for her and told her about his thoughts. He showed her the picture which accompanied the article. It was black and white and boasted a bearded young man with a cap, the plumber, together with a hole showing the top of the archway to the entrance, covered almost entirely by rubble. The picture had been taken just after its discovery, before it had been covered up.

  “I suppose it’s a little bit odd that you’ve never heard about it but not very surprising really. It could have been seen as a bit of an embarrassment that the local paper had said that there were not enough funds for the excavation work and it could have been a topic which no one wanted to approach with the estate’s family members. And people’s memories are short. It was probably completely forgotten about by the time you were old enough to understand.”

  “But why couldn’t they have spent money on the excavation works? There were clearly enough funds there. Something is not right about this. This underground passage forms part of Torpa’s history. Its discovery must have been significant. People would have been interested to see it. It could have become a tourist attraction. But instead, they chose to board it up and forget about it.”

  “Perhaps they simply weren’t very interested in these things in those days. But what are you suggesting?”

  “I might be wrong but I’m thinking that perhaps it was secretly used for something else, even in my lifetime.”

  “Like what?” Emma paused. “Perhaps the tablet was hidden there?” She sounded hopeful.


  “I’m not sure about that but I would certainly like to find out. This place seems to have a lot of secrets, more than I ever could have imagined… I suggest we take a walk to look for it in the garden. I’m not sure where this is,” Erik said pointing at the photo. “But I can’t imagine it could be that difficult to find.”

  “You’re the boss! I could do with a bit of a break now anyway.” They put their trainers and jackets on and ventured outside. It was drizzling but not bad enough to require an umbrella. Having decided to walk together rather than split up, it took them longer to browse the expansive gardens but the whole experience was all the more pleasant. Erik suggested they looked for a small mound of rubble, like the picture had suggested. He guessed that by now it was probably covered in grass and may not be very prominent or even noticeable, which complicated their search even further. They spent a long time leafing through every inch of the garden without any hint of anything which could have been hiding an underground passage entrance.

  It was not yet dark but they decided to give up the search for the passage entrance for the moment. They started to walk back. It was suddenly a gorgeous evening. The rain had given way to a weak spell of sunshine, although the sun was on its way down, spreading a purple band of cloud across the sky. The spring air was still warm and fresh, smelling of pine and moss. Some persistent birds were entertaining them with song. The expansive gardens had the remains of a few autumn leaves strewn about but was otherwise well kept and entirely surrounded by large trees. Erik put his arm around Emma and they stopped for a moment, looking at the old house on the other side of the moat. In the soft light of the last sun rays it looked ghostly but yet alive. The smaller of the two lakes was faintly discernible behind it. The white render shone brightly, in stark contrast to some of the windows at the front. The sun was shining in from the west, creating an optical illusion of dancing dust in some of the rooms on that side. The inside of the east side was completely submerged in darkness. Emma suddenly froze.

  “I could have sworn that I saw something moving in there! Right there, in the window to the right on the ground floor!” Alarmed she pointed in the direction of the house. Erik couldn’t see anything, only a dark window.

  “Are you sure, or could it have been the reflection of trees in the window?”

  “I don’t think so. It was definitely something inside the house. Someone or something was moving in there! We should call the police!”

  “What?” He laughed. “They would think we were mad, calling them about a possible sighting of ‘something’. I don’t think we should waste police time over this. Let’s go and have a look ourselves first. It’s probably nothing. There could be an open window somewhere, which made the curtain move.” Erik had no desire to enter the godforsaken house again. He had only had less than pleasant experiences in there; and his childhood fears were still rife within him, in particular since the revelation about the death and gruesome burial of his biological mother inside the house. But he didn’t want to let Emma down, or be shown to be a coward. He decided that some precautions were necessary. “Wait here a second, he said mid step as he rushed back into the house.

  He was going to get his father’s hunting rifle. He was no stranger to it, having used it once when he accompanied his father on a hunting expedition as a teenager. After that he had decided never to do so again but at least he had learnt how to load and use the weapon. It was kept in a wooden box inside the bookcase in one of the reception rooms. If there really was an intruder there, it would be the most effective way of protecting them, he reasoned. But he refrained from loading it there and then, scared of accidentally pulling the trigger. He also made sure his mobile phone was charged and functional before he went outside again, carrying the rifle on his back in a leather string over his right shoulder, just as his father had taught him, as well as the keys to the old house. Emma was still there outside waiting.

  “Shall we?”

  “What’s that?” Emma looked at the weapon with disgust.

  “My father’s rifle. I thought we needed some protection,” he said cheerfully, stroking it.

  “Be careful, you could kill someone with that thing!”

  “Perhaps we should sneak in, rather than just walk up to the entrance,” Erik said, ignoring her. “If there is an intruder in there and he has seen us, he would be getting ready for us now, or trying to escape.”

  “Perhaps a voluntary escape would not be such a bad thing. At least then we wouldn’t risk getting you in jail shooting someone! I say we just walk up, as if nothing has happened.”

  They didn’t say a word as they walked over the walk bridge over the moat and up to the entrance. Erik fiddled with the keys. His hands were shaking somewhat, making it a more difficult task to unlock the door. If there was a person in there, he must have used the back-door, as the front door was locked from the outside, including the three extra locks that his mother had had installed after the break-in. As they went inside, Erik left the door unlocked, planning for a swift escape. He felt braver with the weapon in his hand but thought it may have been a mistake not to load it.

  “Let’s stop for a second,” he whispered. Inside the entrance hall he took out the bullets in his pocket and loaded the gun. Holding it carefully, they continued down the hall and into a room that Erik doubted he had ever been in before. It was still fully furnished, seemingly with old or broken furniture that his family had left there. Other than the main reception rooms and one of the bedrooms, which had been restored to their former fifteenth century glory for the benefit of tourists, all other rooms were run down and covered in dust. The curtains had black moth stains and looked a bit sorry. A familiar smell of damp was prevalent all throughout the house. No wonder, given that it had no modern heating system. There were no guided tours over the winter months, the first ones starting in June, with the last one at the beginning of August. His parents had not prioritised the upkeep of the house for the rest of the year.

  The door which they had calculated should be leading to the room where Emma thought she had seen the movement was closed. Erik’s heart was pounding hard as he pressed down the handle to open it. To their disappointed relief, it was locked.

  “Now what?” he whispered.

  “Do you have a key?” Emma pointed at the bundle he was carrying.

  “Good point.” He searched through it as inaudibly as he possibly could but there was no helping it. Searching for a key was not the quietest of jobs. “No, this isn’t it. I didn’t bring all the keys with me. These are just for the external doors. I know there’s another bundle of keys in the keycupboard in the house. We need to go back and get it.”

  “I’ll stay here and keep a look-out. You hurry!” Erik didn’t want to leave her there but they had not heard or seen any sign that there was someone else there. What she had seen could have been a trick of the light. Relying on that, Erik didn’t think she was in any immediate danger.

  “Alright. You go back to the main hall and wait. Take this.” He gave her the rifle. She accepted it without a word. “Keep quiet, whatever you do.”

  Erik ran as fast and as quietly as he could through the corridor and outside, over the bridge, over the garden and up to the modern house. As per normal when he was at home he had foolishly left the door unlocked, although consequently there was no need to fumble with keys again. The key-cupboard was in a little room off the hallway. He quickly found the bundle of keys. There was only one that seemed to have the right sort of look. It was fairly long and simple in its design, the kind of key which was likely to fit most old internal doors. He grabbed the bundle and started to run back, locking the house on his way. He didn’t want the intruder to get access to the many valuables there. As he reached the old house again he could hear nothing other than the wind hitting the trees outside. Walking slowly up to the main hall, his heart pounding in his chest, he hesitated, scared that Emma would think he was the intruder and that she would use the rifle on him. He therefore whispered: ‘It’s
me!’ as loudly as he could before entering. She was sitting on a stool in the corner, white as a sheet, rifle in combat position.

  “Thank god it’s you!”

  “You ok?”

  Emma nodded. “Shall we go back to the door?”

  Erik concurred and carefully took the rifle back. Emma moved ahead creeping in a funny walk on her toes with back slightly bent, as if she had to go to the toilet. Erik couldn’t help himself laughing but at the last second realised that under the circumstances it was probably unwise. Instead he focussed on trying the key in the old door and found to his relief that he had chosen wisely. The lock clicked open. The moment he pressed the handle again he had stopped breathing from anticipation and fear. He looked at Emma, as if to reassure himself that she wanted him to open the door. What if she had been right? What if there was someone there? The door opened with a creak and the room came into view. It was lighter than the corridor, with two windows each of the external walls but the sun had started to set and it was certainly not swimming in light. The main thing was that it was empty. There was no one there. The only strange thing about it was that the furniture appeared to be dusted and the curtains were of better quality than the other rooms. It even had a red Persian rug, an antique looking sofa in a light blue shiny patterned material and a desk. On the desk was a pen in a stand and a kerosene lamp. The pen and lamp ensemble looked antique in itself but this was in stark contrast to an item that had been thrown on the desk chair. Emma, who had become braver, walked up to it and held it up. It was a black T-shirt. At that moment a noise resembling a shriek escaped her.