The Atlantis Cipher (The Relic Hunters Book 2)

by David Leadbeater

  Jemma fired from her side of the car. Bodie jumped on the brakes and twisted the wheel, hearing return fire from the paragliders. Bullets strafed in front of the car, blew pieces from one of the concrete posts. Bodie evaded them, scraped the front left side on the next post and saw the yawning drop beyond.

  “That is not smooth and fucking sweet,” Cassidy heard him mutter. “That is not.”

  She angled her body even farther out. The car fishtailed one way around a corner and the paragliders shot across the other, the three machines level for one second and then roaring apart. As they switched back, Cassidy saw their fallen enemy’s body on the road below, limbs bent at terrible angles. She took a moment to gauge how far there was to go.

  Four more hairpins to the valley floor. Then . . .

  Well, then they’d be sitting ducks. The paragliders would know that. Having lost one comrade, they would surely wait for an easier kill.

  But one swooped down, coming in behind the SUV. Bullets streaked from its sides, fired by both the pilot and the passenger. Cassidy heard Bodie shouting into the comms, ordering Heidi to get the plane running and prepare some cover for them. She then blocked it all out, concentrated on the paraglider that pursued them as it started to pull up toward the clouds. She fired at the same time as Jemma, and the results were spectacular.

  Bodies jerked sideways and backward, lolling lifelessly. The glider’s engine stopped, and the machine lurched in midair. It then took a nose dive, which developed into a roll, end over end until it made contact with the road in a loud and shocking crunch of metal. Cassidy levered herself back into the car, right hip on fire from resting on the narrow ledge for so long. Quickly, she slipped in another mag and looked at Jemma.

  “Ready?”

  The dark-haired girl nodded, the tight bun at the back of her head barely moving. Cassidy knew Jemma, careful and with scrupulous morals, would be reeling inside—this would disrupt her normally faultless thought process—and tried to divert her attention.

  “They’re shooting at you too, Jem. You see it now. Remember it. No excuses.”

  “No argument here.”

  Gunn again tried to pull himself out of the footwell, but Cassidy planted a boot on his head and pushed him back down. “Stay there. It’s safer.”

  “Under your boot?”

  “Best place for you.”

  An unexpected hairpin sent Cassidy sprawling. She regained her composure and got back to the window. The remaining paraglider hovered to their right, and its occupants seemed to be taking their time as they aimed weapons. Both vehicles were running at the same level and the difficulty factor was far less.

  “Shit, that’s not good.”

  They opened fire. Bodie’s window smashed, the influx of glass blinding him for a moment. Another bullet wedged into the car’s central pillar, right behind Bodie’s head and in front of Cassidy’s nose. A third plowed through the thin door metal, grazing Jemma’s knee and drawing the thinnest line of blood. The cat burglar screamed in a startled reaction, dropping her gun and staring at her leg as if it might fall off.

  The paraglider passengers didn’t let up, emptying their mags at the SUV. Buffeting winds and speed spoiled their aim, but still bullets grazed and punctured the car. Cassidy knew it was another desperate moment for the team, turned and fired through the open window, fired constantly and at anything—everything—in an effort to upset their attackers’ aim.

  Then Cassidy had no more time. Bodie had lost control of the car. It swerved violently to the other side of the road. He caught the wheel and twisted it back. Too far. The SUV tipped, went up on two wheels, then smashed back down and gained instant traction. Bodie jammed his foot on the brakes, but too late. Cassidy saw what was coming and grabbed the seat back with both hands.

  Shit, poor Gunn. He’s gonna feel like a pinball in that footwell.

  The car crashed brutally through the nearest barrier, bouncing through the gap and heading straight down the side of the mountain.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cassidy braced herself. Any instant she expected the big front end of the SUV to dig in, and the whole heavy lump to start tumbling.

  And there was no chance of surviving that.

  Bodie wrestled the steering wheel, trying to keep the tires dead straight and at least give them a chance. Cassidy saw Cross with his hands braced against the dashboard and his mouth open in a rictus of fear. Adrenaline shot through her. Gunn was being buffeted uncontrollably in his small space, but at least the area around him was leather bound. Jemma was on her side, holding her leg and trying to stay in a fixed position.

  The SUV bounced, took off, then came down hard. Bounced again. The suspension screamed, the front splitter smashed. Fragmented glass washed over the front and back floors and seats of the car. Cassidy couldn’t understand why they hadn’t started rolling yet.

  Then the ground suddenly leveled out. Bodie yelled in relief, straightening the steering wheel, and Cassidy realized they had already traversed the majority of the switchbacks before they crashed through the barrier. They were speeding across flat grassland now, hopefully back toward the road.

  She pushed away from the seat, reached down to Gunn, and steadied Jemma. “Relax now,” she said. “We’re alive. We’re fine. Sit up.”

  She checked Jemma’s wound, but the cut was superficial at most. Then she took stock of their position. The bumpy field was full of rocks, Bodie swerving to miss the worst of them. Half a minute later and he crashed through a wooden fence back onto the smooth blacktopped road. The car shuddered, tires squealing, but Bodie wrestled it back under control.

  Cassidy cast around for the paraglider.

  It was right behind them, hovering twenty feet up like a prehistoric bird of prey, its tenacious riders training their weapons in the SUV’s direction. There would be no respite.

  Bodie made a noise then, and jammed the brakes on. Cassidy shot forward, smashing her nose against the seat back, and felt the blood flow. Pain lanced upward through her temples. The paraglider flew ahead and then a deep cacophony of gunfire erupted. Even in her position Cassidy knew it was deeper, heavier than that which the paraglider could bring to bear. Bodie was still braking. Cassidy heaved herself away from the seat back, wiped her face, and shifted to find out what the hell was going on.

  The road ahead was blocked by four SUVs. Men and a few women stood in front and to the side of the big vehicles, all with weapons aimed. Others stood in the field to the side, firing up at the paraglider.

  Cassidy watched as the flying machine veered away. Bullets broke several struts and perforated the chute, but failed to bring it down. With one threat neutralized, Cassidy switched her attention to the next.

  “Who are those guys? Did Heidi send them?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Bodie steadied the car, eased up on the brakes, and managed to stop about twenty feet from the gathering. He took a moment to catch his breath, as did the entire team, and their world suddenly became very still.

  And silent.

  Cassidy soon changed that. “Load up, people. Even you, Gunn. The more threatening we look, the better.”

  Bodie was already arming himself; Cross too. Jemma, to her credit, didn’t say a word, just located her .45 and changed the mag. Gunn clawed his way up from the footwell and peered between the front seats.

  “I could run the plates quickly.”

  “Great idea,” Bodie said. “Do it.”

  Cassidy was impressed to see Gunn thinking so clearly under pressure. Perhaps he had a future on the team after all. Some people could just surprise you, she guessed.

  She peered through the windshield. “I see five men to the left, four more in front of the cars along with two women. I see two silhouettes inside the middle car—probably the bosses. Rear view is blind. You guys see anything?”

  “Not since I opened my eyes again,” Cross grumbled. “But then my brain is still spinning.”

  “Smaller objects do rot
ate for longer,” Gunn said as he clicked at his laptop. “I think.”

  Cross peered ahead. “Any ideas?”

  “Well, they’re not traffic cops,” Jemma said. “Someone is going to have to get out and talk to them and show we can match their firepower.”

  “I have a bad feeling,” Bodie said. “I’ve seen tattoos like that before. Stand strong and aggressive. Show absolutely no weakness.”

  “Not a problem.” Cassidy clicked her door open before he could say more, and watched the reactions of the gathering. “They’re staying cool,” she said. “Not the best sign and not the worst.”

  She saw the middle SUV shift as the rear doors opened. A large, middle-aged bald man stepped out, followed by an older figure, also large, dressed in a beige suit. The latter wore a black fedora with a silk band. She watched as he walked patiently to the front end of his car. Still reflecting on Bodie’s words, she found herself studying the wealth of black tattoos on show.

  Gunn rattled off all he could see in the short span of time. “Could be worse, I guess, but not by much. Obviously, the vehicles are registered through a shell corporation that belongs to an international bank. A quick exploration of its lineage leads us to Viktor Davydov, the current deputy head of the Moroccan branch of the . . .” His frightened gasp swallowed the next word, so he repeated it. “Bratva.”

  Bodie nodded grimly. “I thought as much. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

  “I need more time to figure the rest out,” Gunn told them. “But the details are correct.”

  Bodie clicked open his door. “Well, we can’t just sit here forever.” Quickly, he relayed their new predicament to Heidi, who reminded them of other factions’ interest in the statues.

  “But the Bratva?” Bodie said. “Doesn’t make sense. They’re not here for Atlantis. They’re here for me.”

  “How could they track you down?” Heidi asked.

  “Two ways I can think of. These people have connections everywhere, including the CIA. And we haven’t exactly been quiet so far during this mission.”

  “Just make it out of there in one piece.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  Cassidy flung her door wide and jumped out, stretching as much for show as to scout the terrain in every direction. As Bodie appeared in front of her, she whispered in his ear.

  “I see a way past if the chance arises. Ditch to the right leads toward that mountain, but the road also turns up ahead. Runway is what? Five miles away?”

  “Six. But I like the idea.”

  The person they believed to be Viktor made a hand gesture. Immediately, his troops came forward, formed a line, and lowered their weapons, but only slightly. Bodie made a point of copying their lead and took a step toward them.

  The bald man held out a hand. “That’s far enough.”

  Bodie nodded. “Morning,” he said. “How can we help you?”

  “I think we helped you.” The bald man let loose a laugh that inspired a similar mocking sound among several younger men.

  “And thank you for that.” Bodie remained polite.

  Viktor spoke English in a low voice. “We want Bodie first. Hand him over right now and the rest of you won’t be harmed. It’s not personal,” he added. “Our boss, Lucien, merely wishes to speak to him.”

  “Sorry, dude,” Cassidy said. “The Wright Brothers got here first. You know”—she pointed at the skies—“came outta nowhere. We barely escaped alive.”

  Viktor flicked open his suit jacket and casually slipped out an Uzi.

  Cassidy stared. “Fuck. That’s some party trick.”

  “Send him over.”

  Cassidy knew it would never happen, and that they needed a clever distraction to attempt an effective escape. It was right then that Cross went completely off the rails and started to stride forward.

  Bodie held out a warning hand. “Eli?”

  But Cross appeared to have entered an alternate universe. Staring at a woman beside Viktor, he said, “Yasmine?”

  Cassidy flinched incredulously. “That might not be the best idea, bud.”

  Cross allowed his gun to drop until it pointed at the ground and walked closer. “Yasmine, is that you?”

  Bodie sent a shocked glance at Cassidy. “What’s he up to?”

  “I have no clue.”

  Viktor regarded Cross with distaste. “You know Yasmine?”

  “Hell yeah, from a lifetime ago when I was freelance. Still learning the trade. It was a chance encounter,” he said wistfully. “But a memorable one.”

  The woman, in her late thirties, peeled away from Viktor’s side. She kept her face carefully neutral, her body language dispassionate. The handgun by her thigh was half raised, the hammer pulled back. But when she looked at Cross it seemed that she had seen a ghost.

  “Eli? Is that really you?” Her voice sounded husky with intense emotion.

  Cross continued to approach her. Viktor raised his Uzi, leveled it at Cross, and the rest of his men followed suit.

  “Stop!” Viktor ordered.

  Yasmine stared at Cross. “Where did you go, Eli?”

  The older thief went mute, unable to string another sentence together.

  Cassidy whispered, “Sheeyit, man, I gotta survive this just so I can squeeze Cross for all the gory details.”

  Bodie stayed professional. “You working on that distraction, Cass?”

  “Me? I thought you were dealing with that.”

  “Me?”

  “Or your girlfriend?”

  “Heidi?”

  “Ah, so now you admit it.”

  “No! Bloody hell, Cass, stay focused. I don’t see a way out of this.”

  “Don’t worry,” Cassidy said. “I’ll figure something out.”

  But being totally honest, she didn’t see a way out of this either. She studied Viktor and his crew as Cross and Yasmine gawped at each other like long-lost lovers, searching for an opening. The Bratva were one of the deadliest enemies they could ever face, and they had incalculable support from all over the world. Any attempt to escape was going to be dangerous as hell.

  “You know what happened,” Cross said finally. “I . . . I . . . didn’t change. I never left. I loved you—”

  Yasmine broke her group’s protocol and rushed forward to embrace Cross, still with the gun held tight and cocked. Cross held on as if he’d found the most precious thing on earth and never wanted to let go. Viktor waved his hands in angry resignation, then turned an almost apologetic look upon Bodie.

  “Let us finish this business and then we can all go home. Yes?”

  Bodie nodded. “I guess so.”

  “You can’t just give yourself over to him,” Cassidy whispered.

  “We’re outnumbered. Outgunned. We’re not SAS. I’m not Keanu Reeves and you’re not Maggie Q. Live now, Cass, fight later. Oh, and don’t be late with the distraction.”

  It made sense. She didn’t like it, but Bodie’s words were unadulterated, true. It wasn’t just her life. Jemma and Gunn could never hope to come out of this alive. Thus, she didn’t make a move when the Englishman took a single step forward.

  “Are you ready?”

  Viktor nodded, satisfied. Bodie studied the man. “How are you involved in all this?”

  “You step into my playground, I beat you down.”

  Bodie remained silent, gauging everything. Yasmine broke off her embrace with Cross, the two now standing close and staring at each other as if trying to rekindle the best of memories. Jemma climbed out of the car with Gunn. Bodie started forward.

  Viktor stopped him with a raised, open hand. “I will take your compass too.”

  Bodie closed his eyes briefly. The Bratva were nothing if not thorough. A CIA leak could have fed them the information. It also occurred to him that a Chinese informant might be their source. And if that was possible, any of the street gangs who’d heard the initial broadcast about the statues and taken an interest could have passed on information.
Once you considered it, the possibilities were thick.

  Still, passing along the compass would give them more time, and they had the photograph to study.

  Bodie took his time retrieving the compass and then started walking again, passing right by a bald man with the spindly arms. He handed the tissue-wrapped relic to Viktor.

  “It better be the right one, Bodie. I know Carl Kirke collected more than one of these.”

  “It is. How did you find out?”

  “I can search the records, just like you. For decades now, modern technology has built incredible transparency into everything that anyone does. We can be seen and we can be tracked. Ironically, it is only the old-timers who have refused to move on, and who are safest from the modern world and its surveillance.”

  Viktor opened the tissue and regarded the compass. Bodie got his first real look at it. Considering its age, it held up well, the wooden base still gleaming, the bronze runes still etched perfectly around the side. Viktor held it up so that the man behind could photograph it.

  “Precaution.” He grinned a white-toothed beam at Bodie.

  Bodie gave it straight back, with interest. He was pleased to see Viktor blinking away his surprise at the gleaming display.

  Viktor rewrapped the compass. “Our business is done. I am a man of my word.” He held a hand out, indicating the battered SUV. “The rest of you may go.”

  Cassidy didn’t move a muscle. Instead she studied Viktor’s men. Nobody moved. A chill wind speared down the mountain passes and between them. Snow drifted off the top of nearby peaks and rocky formations, reminding Cassidy of spindrift thrown by a restless sea. Finally, it was Cross who broke the spell.

  “So now I know where to find you.”

  “I would not recommend that you come knocking.” Yasmine smiled. “But I wish that you would.”

  “They’d never see me. And you’ll never know until I’m right beside you.”

  “Ah, yes, I remember how good you were, now.”