The Atlantis Cipher (The Relic Hunters Book 2)

by David Leadbeater

  Scottie looked suitably sheepish, his boyish face strained, and his mop of gelled-back hair hanging limply as if in apology.

  “Sorry, boss.”

  “Just explain why the hell you’ve ruined a perfectly good night of sifting through paperwork.” It was a poor attempt at a joke and he knew it.

  “Ah, yeah, sorry again. They called a half hour after you left. It sounds . . . interesting.”

  Heidi inclined her head, trying not to look too concerned.

  “There’s been a significant find in South America.”

  Now she shrugged off her coat and poured bad, stewed coffee from the machine. “Go on.”

  “I can’t drink that stuff.” Scottie stared at her steaming mug. “Makes my guts squirm.”

  “I’ll be sure to order in a supply of half-and-half. Now, go on.”

  “All right. Well, I have to assume that where there’s an old myth or an old dig site there’s probably an archaeologist hanging around. A group of underfunded, mostly misled kids just came across something near the eastern Brazilian coast. Then they called a goddamn press conference.” Scottie shook his head sadly.

  Heidi couldn’t stop a sharp intake of breath. “That’s not good. Publicity is the last thing they want at a new discovery site.”

  “You said it, boss. Full disclosure isn’t always the way to go. So, it appears these young archaeologists were investigating an archaic site believed cleared out years ago. To cut a long story short, they unearthed five statues.”

  Heidi set her mug on the table. “I’m guessing they’re not bronze representations of Dwayne Johnson?”

  “No, though that would be cool.” Scottie paused, caught her eye, and then blushed. “Right, so the statues are obviously thousands of years old. Many thousands. In fact, they perfectly match four other statues found on the Azores over a decade ago.”

  Scottie let it hang. Heidi worked through it in her head.

  “The Azores?” she repeated. “Which is . . .”

  “Off the coast of Portugal, near Spain and Morocco.”

  “Right.” She nodded. She felt a surge in her chest but held it in. “And you say they match perfectly? How perfectly?”

  Scottie sat back. “Perfectly perfectly.”

  Heidi ran it through her mind. Perfectly perfectly. From South America to Morocco? How could that be?

  “So what we have here are essentially nine statues. Crafted by the same person at the same time. Now found . . . what? Four thousand miles apart and across the width of the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Scottie nodded. “That’s about right.”

  Heidi switched off for a moment, preventing the euphoria from carrying her away. While locating ancient wonders wasn’t exactly within the CIA’s purview, stopping global conspiracy was. Chasing down the all-powerful shadow organization that she later discovered was the Illuminati had started her on this path, and now her bosses realized there was more reward than simply arresting criminals inherent in finding anything from an old statue to a lost continent. Oddly, it wasn’t simply the lure of discovering ancient relics that inspired her, it was also the chance to work with Bodie again. And the other guys, she qualified quickly in her mind. In addition, after working for the CIA for over a decade this was fresh, new, and exciting. But they needed a period of calm, rational reasoning right now. She focused on the details. Their office was small, well lit, and functional. She gazed at the walls and at the desk, seeing a noticeboard still bristling with photographs and sticky notes from their last mission—the quest to retrieve the Statue of Zeus and take down the Illuminati. At least half of that mission had been successful—the ancient wonder would now reside in the devastated museum at Athens, bringing much-needed tourist money into the city and the country.

  I wonder if there are more ancient wonders out there. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon? Now that would be a find.

  The only desk was black and scarred, its surface the place of many wars with hot liquid, sandwich knives, and broken ceramic. The computer was clean. A photo of her daughter drifted around the screen while it was in power save mode. People sometimes asked her why she used the old photo. Because I don’t have any recent ones. But she always kept that part to herself. Her eyes moved to the water cooler in the corner, which grew enough algae for its own manicured front lawn. That corner was a no-go zone. She kicked a chair from underneath the desk and sat down heavily.

  “Okay, I’ll forgive you for summoning me back to the office on one condition.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “After we’re done, you go get a shower. Now, tell me more.”

  Scottie looked relieved. “Well,” he said softly, “everyone knows this is a big press release. Clearly, not everyone will make the connection you just did. That the statues were all made by the same person. I even ran it through a computer process. The carvings, markings, color, and detail on the new statues match the Azores statues perfectly. That’s even without any form of dating. They were made by the same man. So . . . how did that man cross the Atlantic Ocean ten thousand years ago?”

  “The Azores statues have already been dated to that time?”

  Scottie nodded.

  Heidi gulped coffee. “The answer is simple,” she said. “He didn’t.”

  “You say everyone knows about this?” Heidi asked after a few moments of reflection.

  “Yeah, it’s gone worldwide.”

  “Unfortunate. Have we identified any potential aggressors yet?” Heidi assumed other nations would immediately see the significance of the find and try to be aggressively proactive in what may well be the greatest treasure hunt of their time. It would all come down to what they might find and how they might use it. Some ancient knowledge might suddenly put any nation light-years ahead of the competition. And Heidi knew that the US would want it first.

  “Well, in the last two hours, chatter has naturally increased. Langley and our NSA contacts report half a dozen potential aggressors. A local gang.” Scottie shrugged. “Small fry. Other unknowns. And, unfortunately, the Chinese.”

  Heidi stared. “I’m assuming you don’t mean the Happy Wok on New Hampshire?”

  “No, no,” Scottie quickly said to cover his mistake. “A hardcore government faction. Not the government per se,” he said with air quotes. “Not that they would ever admit to.”

  “Right.” That was indeed an unfortunate development. The Chinese would hold nothing back in their search for items of value. Within the politburo, she knew, were men of influence who wanted all westerners and their wares out of the country, gone forever, and used hard finance, bottomless influence, and ransom-worthy items of enormous importance to further their agendas, while there was an equal number who thought it could be achieved by doing just the opposite. Keep your enemies close, and all that . . .

  Which made her think of Guy Bodie and his team of social misfits. If ever there was a perfect job for a certain group of rebels, tracking down such an intriguing and mysterious treasure was it.

  “Where are the relic hunters?”

  “Right now? They’re chasing down that old boss of Bodie’s somewhere in Florida.”

  Heidi had known that. She was thinking rapidly while Scottie spoke. “Call them. Tell them the job has changed.”

  “They won’t like that, boss.”

  “Look at me.” Heidi stood, her face looking more lived-in than usual and her naturally curly hair listing badly to the east. Her scarred hands and holstered gun spoke of intense fieldwork. Her tired eyes spoke of incredible responsibility. “Do I look like their travel agent to you?”

  “Umm, no.”

  “What do I look like?”

  “Their . . . boss.”

  “You got it, Scottie. So, what are you gonna do?”

  The younger man reached for the phone. “I’ll call them right away.”

  Heidi put out a hand to stop him. The human contact made him flinch just a little. She didn’t move her hand, but held on to his wrist.

  “Yo
u know the significance of all this, don’t you?”

  Scottie couldn’t help but grin. “Sure, I do.”

  “The only way those two groups of statues could reasonably have made it two continents apart and four thousand miles across an ocean over ten thousand years ago is if there was no ocean.”

  “And no split continents,” Scottie said.

  “Just one body of land,” Heidi said.

  Scottie took a deep breath. “Atlantis.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Guy Bodie was in charge of the infiltration of Pantera’s property. With the assistance of Cassidy and Jemma, he sneaked in under cover of darkness. Jemma in particular seemed to delight in returning to the field, possibly reliving her former career as a cat burglar.

  Bodie had reminded them constantly that while the job wasn’t big and it wasn’t dangerous, they should treat everything as if it were life or death. The risk was that they missed noticing something they didn’t know was there—especially where Jack Pantera was concerned.

  This worried him the most.

  But Bodie had known Cross the longest of his team, and trusted him the most. If the forty-three-year-old insisted Bodie could make it to Pantera’s domain and back with absolutely no issues, then the matter was closed. Cross was the closest Bodie had ever come to an ally as capable as Pantera, and as good a friend. Following Pantera’s betrayal, Cross had taken on that role.

  Bodie had hooked up a series of covert cameras, gaining them a 360-degree view of Pantera’s house. The cameras themselves were high-tech, enabled with seamless zoom and motion detectors. Small and thin, they were practically unnoticeable, hidden as they were among the leaves and branches of trees and bushes. Bodie had even checked the gardener’s schedule and learned he wouldn’t be around for another three days.

  “Let’s review what we know,” he said. The team was lounging on the furniture in the terrace bar at a large hotel. White canvas shutters rolled across the timbered roof to keep the direct sun at bay, and a heart-shaped pool glistened to their left. The area was quiet at this time of day; most of the hotel’s occupants were cruising one of the nearby theme parks or filling up at a restaurant.

  “Two days of watching have given us more than a few headaches,” Jemma said.

  “Explain.” Bodie stretched out on the rattan sofa. Cassidy had ordered mocktails all around, and now brought them on a tray with a little curtsy.

  “Found your calling,” Gunn said, smirking.

  “You have a problem with waitresses?” Cassidy growled.

  “Umm, no. Not at all. I was just—”

  “Then shut your smart mouth.”

  Jemma took a quick drink and then continued explaining her plan. “Pantera is in the house, as you know.” Bodie had identified the man for his own peace of mind during the initial hour of surveillance. “I have half a dozen signals coming out. Nothing unusual. House alarm, Wi-Fi, broadband, etcetera. Nothing suspicious, which, knowing Pantera, is suspicious in itself. Bodie knows the man best and he helped with snooping out any would-be surprises. But . . .” Jemma spread her arms. “We can’t find any.”

  Gunn took over. “I hacked his system. Took a look at his computer. The man has solid firewalls, great protocols. As Jemma says, it all seems above board, which makes me very skeptical.”

  “We’re thieves,” Bodie said with a chuckle. “What would you expect?”

  They laughed and drank. A small fountain sprayed arcs of water into the pool. A happy-looking couple walked slowly by.

  “Anything good?” Cassidy asked.

  “That is the good,” Gunn said. “Weren’t you listening? Of course, there is some bad news too.”

  “Naturally.” Cassidy waved at him. “Spit it out.”

  “It appears that somebody else is watching Mr. Pantera.”

  The team went silent, eyes on Bodie. It was his decision as to how to proceed. Some jobs would be aborted, others wildly transformed, dissected. This one had roots that were beyond fragile, though.

  “Methods? Routines?” Cross asked eventually.

  “They’re decent, but they never saw you, Eli. Barely any movement at all. If I were put on the spot I’d say it’s a long-term watch. Complacent. They even have a house.”

  Bodie pondered this. “That makes it even more intriguing,” he said. “Does Jack know? How long have they been observing him, and what for? Who else knows? To plant an extended watch in a gated community speaks of power.”

  “CIA?” Cassidy suggested.

  Bodie stared at her. “Nah, that’d be too messed up. The CIA watching Jack after rescuing me, the man he got sent to prison. The same CIA we now work for.”

  “Pantera has made no effort to hide anything,” Gunn said. “He’s alone. Hasn’t been outside the property’s boundary in two days. Never looks directly at the long-term watch or at our cameras. How observant is he, Guy?”

  “Jack is the best.” Bodie shrugged. “Or used to be. The guy taught me how to read body language, how to properly assess a target, how to lift and return a guard’s ID card without him even knowing it was gone. Every skill I have came from Jack. He treated me . . . like a son. Shit, how is his behavior? Anything suspicious or out of the ordinary?”

  “Seems fine. Coordination is all there. Drinks a lot; I see evidence of wine and beer bottles on the kitchen shelves as well as in the recycling. Buys local and at supermarket prices, judging by the contents of his trash, which suggests he’s not hiding any golden nuggets under the bed. There’s a two-year-old Dodge in the garage, plates registered in his name. Everything else”—Gunn shrugged—“is textbook. Mundane. Pantera is living like a model citizen right here in the heart of the Sunshine State. I’d expect to see him skipping out of that house chomping down on a juicy orange next.”

  Cassidy swatted him across the head. “Idiot. Stop typecasting everyone.”

  Gunn sighed deeply. “Is there anything you feel that I do do right, Cass?”

  “I’m sure there is, but it’s gonna take some thinking. What do you say, Jemma?”

  Caught off guard, Jemma’s usually quick mind couldn’t construct a fitting comeback to that one and look at the plan. “Leave it with me,” she said. “Now, Jack Pantera—the man. We need to understand how to anticipate his reactions. I’ll let Guy brief you.”

  Bodie went instantly from repose to sitting on the edge of his seat. If I still didn’t care for the man, it would be easy.

  “A quiet, keen observer, Jack is reserved, intelligent, and shrewd. He would always steal the old way, but with state-of-the-art tools. I’d say from being the solid numero uno he’s dropped down the charts these past three years. The man lost interest. He will undoubtedly have lost sharpness too.”

  “Violent?” Cross asked.

  Bodie shook his head. “Never, unless threatened. But you put one foot the wrong side of Jack and he’d crush it. Literally. With a hammer. He taught me to be courteous, respectful, and as tough as a prison-yard brawler.” He reflected for a moment. “Couldn’t have been easy for him. Living two lives.”

  “Sounds like my dad, or what I remember of him,” Gunn commented, looking at the ground. Like Bodie, Gunn was an orphan. Bodie’s own bereavements were markedly different—his parents were killed while he attended an eighth birthday party—but he was reminded of his own life both before and after their deaths.

  Two existences. The first—real fun-filled glory days where legends were made. The other—a slide into obscurity and self-loathing. He didn’t have to ask how Gunn had fared; he never had—the answer was obvious. Sam Gunn had become a child of an imperfect system, placed with new parents who didn’t show love or care as only real parents can. Without love, he’d grown up hard. At least Bodie had old, perfect childhood stories to hang on to. Times of friendship and belonging.

  “So, Jack?” he said. “Treat the dude with the utmost caution, if not respect. He did, after all, somehow land me in a Mexican hellhole.”

  Jemma waited a moment, then eyed th
e crew. “We good to go?”

  “What?” Gunn spluttered. “Now? But I haven’t finished my Lava Flow.”

  “No, dummy.” Jemma sighed. “Tonight. We go tonight. When it’s dark.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s what I thought you meant.”

  Bodie saw their faces set, their eyes determined. Right here, right now, he knew he was among those who cared and looked out for him. There was nowhere he’d rather be and no one he’d rather be with. Cross, in particular, held his gaze and nodded slightly, reassuringly.

  Tonight would be different. Tonight they would find out why one of their own had betrayed them.

  Jemma broke a profound silence. “All right. Dark will be here soon. I have a few rough edges to smooth off. Maybe Gunn could help me with that. I don’t need the rest of you.”

  Cassidy finished her mocktail in a single gulp. “Sounds great. Who’s up for cruising Kissimmee to see if they have any decent night spots?”

  “And when would you hit them?” Cross asked. “Tonight’s out.”

  Cassidy shook her head at his assumptions. “You kidding me, old-timer? First we hit Pantera, then we go clubbing.”

  “The only clubbing I’ll be doing is in my dreams.” Cross smiled.

  Bodie felt his phone vibrate against his thigh and fished it out. One look at the incoming caller ID and his heart sank. “Oh hell,” he said. “It’s Heidi.”

  Cross plucked it out of his hand and answered, pressing the speaker button too. “Yeah?”

  “That’s not Bodie. Who is this?”

  “Well, hello to you too, Agent Moneymaker. This here is Eli Cross.”

  “Is Bodie there?”

  “Indisposed, I’m afraid.”

  “Indis . . . what the hell does that mean?” Heidi sounded taut.

  “Well, I guess it means he can’t come to the phone right now. What can I help you with?”

  “You’d better not be covering for him, Eli.” Heidi took a deep breath before continuing. “I need the team. Right here, right now. We have an urgent job.”