The Atlantis Cipher (The Relic Hunters Book 2)

by David Leadbeater

  Bodie sipped his coffee, reflecting on how the team had evolved since agreeing to help the CIA—how their thief skills had developed and helped in so many other useful ways.

  Alessandro leaned forward so that his nose almost brushed the screen. He flicked to the next image. Presently, he took out a ring-bound notebook and a pencil. With infinite care, he licked the carbon tip and began to write. Bodie leaned in but couldn’t understand the Italian script.

  Assuming it was Italian. He decided to keep quiet at the risk of embarrassing himself.

  Lucie stared out across the square. Bodie looked for Cassidy, Cross, Jemma, or Gunn but couldn’t see any of them. The respect he felt for both Jemma and Gunn had bloomed of late, with Gunn’s vital support to the team in Rio, and Jemma helping out in the Alps, not to mention the superficial graze on her leg.

  Hours later, Alessandro leaned back in the skinny, wrought-iron chair. “It is a mixture, as Lucie says,” he said reflectively as if to himself. “And yes, it could only have been done on purpose. This man, Danel, specifically wanted a learned individual to uncover his secret.”

  Alessandro and Lucie peered at Heidi and Bodie with dissatisfaction.

  “Spill, Professor,” Heidi said. “I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Prettier, though.” Alessandro crinkled a well-practiced smile at her.

  Bodie winced inwardly for Heidi, and waded in to sort it out. “Suspicious movement in the square,” he lied. “Can we move along?”

  Alessandro didn’t look convinced but tapped his notebook. “Essentially, most of the runes mean the same thing. They were added to cause confusion, to muddle the translation, which baffled poor Lucie here.”

  “And what do they mean?” Bodie asked.

  “Poseidon.” Alessandro nodded sagely. “The script includes seven different forms of the word ‘Poseidon,’ largely unknown, I might add, and just a single sentence.”

  “Please,” Heidi urged. “Please tell us the sentence.”

  “‘Go to the temple of Poseidon in the mountains of Atlantis.’”

  Bodie waited for more, but Alessandro offered nothing. Is that it? crossed his mind, but then he realized he’d foolishly tempted fate.

  “The friggin’ Moroccan Bratva are here,” Cassidy breathed over the comms. “I see four of them, including Cross’s honey trap.”

  Bodie jumped up. “Time to leave. They made it pretty clear what they would do if they ever saw us again.” He prepared his weapon without looking or drawing attention to it. In the shadow of the cathedral he peered into the square.

  “How could they possibly find us?” Jemma asked. “It’s not . . .”

  “We’ll deal with that later.” Heidi grunted. “After we get these civilians to safety and get out of here.”

  “Cassidy said there were four soldiers, plus Yasmine,” Bodie reminded her. “Wouldn’t it be better to capture and question them?”

  “Probably, Guy, and I do like your thinking, but we’re walking on deadly thin ice. First, could you physically do that? And second, one wrong move could endanger hundreds of people. Something like this . . . you have to walk away from.”

  He didn’t like it, but understood. Cassidy reported that the Bratva were searching the crowd without purpose, as if they weren’t sure where to go. It was then that Cross came on the line.

  “You say Yasmine’s with them? Maybe I could draw her away and talk?”

  “That’s not a good idea, Eli,” Bodie said.

  “Why? The information we gain could be—”

  “Listen,” Heidi said. “There’s no time. I’ve just been told the Chinese are here too. Move!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “But I need to explain about Poseidon and the kings of Atlantis,” Alessandro said. “About men so influential they later became gods.”

  “Listen.” Bodie helped him up. “During tenure were you ever shot, stabbed, or decapitated?”

  “Umm, well, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s keep it that way. This is what Heidi does, what we do. We’ll keep you safe.”

  Alessandro went with him. Lucie came around the table and bumped into Heidi. Bodie saw Cassidy emerge from the crowd.

  “Your ten o’clock, thirty meters,” he said. “Heads down and walk straight across the square.”

  They complied, trying to maintain a pace that was brisk yet blended with the crowd. Jemma met them and joined in. Soon they were level with the side of the cathedral and moving past its arched windows, unable to ignore its imposing vertical walls. It lessened their escape options for now, but once they were past, it would increase them.

  Cross’s voice filled their heads. “Hey, Yasmine. Come with me.”

  Bodie cursed aloud. The man was jeopardizing everything. “You’re putting lives at risk,” he hissed. “Get the fuck away from her.”

  “How did you find us?” Cross asked.

  Yasmine’s voice was clear as crystal. “Run, Eli! Run. They will kill you.”

  Bodie skidded to a halt. He could see Cross through shifting figures to the left and Yasmine just a meter away from him. He couldn’t leave his friend behind no matter what the odds were.

  “Come with us,” Cross begged. “Why are you with these monsters?”

  “This is not the time. It’s deep, Eli, my story is very deep. If I get the chance I will explain. But you must go now. They will kill you.”

  “Please join us.”

  “I can’t. Not now. Look, they’re coming. Just go!”

  Bodie neared Cross, then met Yasmine’s eyes and saw the faces of the men approaching her. One was the bald, spindly-armed man, flanked by three tough-looking henchmen. Bodie grabbed Cross and steered the older man out of there, arrowing clear of where he’d left the rest of the team.

  “Stop it,” Cross said, struggling.

  “This is your one fucking pass,” Bodie hissed at him. “Any more of this shit and you’re done. You hear me?” Even here, even now, his chest hurt when he spoke that way to his friend.

  Cross deflated. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I mean it. I know we’re the original members of this team—we can tell each other and work through anything—but you’re becoming a liability. You’re drawing attention to the whole group, to Alessandro, chancing a firefight here, in this crowded square. Get it together, Cross, or go home.”

  “I hear you, I hear you. She’s just . . . the love of my life, Bodie. I need answers. Isn’t there anyone from your early years that you’d give anything just to talk to again? To find out . . . why?”

  There was, but Bodie knew this wasn’t the time for an in-depth conversation about it. He continued to force the pace, cutting through the crowd. At first he didn’t look back, because looking back tended to get you spotted, but then Cassidy confirmed his worst fears through the comms. “They’re coming after you.”

  “How many?”

  “All five.”

  “Good. That means they didn’t see you. Keep on going and we’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  “You sure you don’t need backup?”

  “I’m good. We’re headed for the Galleria. There’s a thousand ways out, I hope.”

  “Roger that. Speak soon.”

  Bodie sped up as they passed underneath the triumphal archway that led inside the shopping mall. Wide and airy and incredibly high, it was and always had been one of the most important Milanese meeting places. The glass and iron roof consisted of four barrel vaults crowned with a large dome, and effected an eerie atmosphere that held sway over the masses below.

  Despite the crowd, Bodie felt that a respectful hush permeated the interior of the building. It was as if something sat coiled in the heights of the vault, devouring the clamor.

  They pushed past glass displays and a restaurant, paused briefly at an intersection where the Louis Vuitton, Versace, and Prada establishments created a soft, golden glow of enticement, with the colorful glass dome high above. Bodie turned to see the bald man only
steps away and didn’t hesitate. A swift right was blocked but his hard left met kidneys and doubled the man over.

  Bodie caught Cross’s arm and ran.

  They raced past Prada and fled up the arcade, looking for a large shop that might have multiple exits. Bodie didn’t have to look back; he could see their pursuers’ reflections in the windows. Four grim, intense-looking men and one woman. All around, curious patrons made way. A tall, thin woman in a tight-fitting dress pulled her young son by one hand and barely looked up. A tourist with two cameras whirled to take photos. Pigeons flew overhead and roosted on the architecture.

  Bodie reached the end of the Galleria, emerging onto a street. Shockingly, the rest of the team was right in front of him, and they were in trouble.

  The sudden scene of violence shocked him. Heidi was struggling in the grip of a Chinese man. He brought a knee into her groin, head-butted her, and then spun and flung her into a window all in the space of two seconds. Heidi hit hard, and Bodie saw the window crack from end to end behind her. She sank to the ground, dazed.

  Cassidy fought two of them, holding both at bay, but the two-pronged attack was harsh. She tried to escape and help Jemma, but the men sidestepped and blocked her. She scowled, frustrated. Cassidy was bleeding and her pants were torn.

  Jemma and Gunn tried to defend Lucie and Alessandro as best they could, standing tall and striking fists into the most vulnerable areas they could see. Twice Jemma connected with soft flesh, but then she struck bone. She cried out, backing away. She was no match for this man and he knew it.

  Bodie saw Heidi’s aggressor aim a kick at her head as she rocked from a heavy blow. He was too late to prevent the kick, and saw her skull slam against the wall. A line of blood appeared on the stonework. Bodie flew, adrenaline boiling, leaping and coming down with an elbow on the nape of the man’s neck.

  “She was already down, asshole.”

  The Chinese man staggered but used Heidi’s head to steady himself before pushing off. He led with a spinning elbow, which Bodie blocked, then a left punch, which Bodie dodged. The ribs were vulnerable, so Bodie delivered hard knuckles to them. A fist connected with his skull, a knee slammed his stomach. He fell back, wondering how he could possibly beat these guys.

  Chinese Special Forces. Isn’t that what Heidi said?

  We’re in deep shit here.

  Bodie kicked the bastard in the knee. Dirty tactics applied now, and he knew more than a few. When the man hit the ground, clutching his burning joint, Bodie sent a boot into his Adam’s apple, further debilitating him.

  Around them, civilians screamed.

  It’s all falling apart.

  A brave young man ran up to Heidi and tried to inspect her bleeding head. The man Bodie had just felled struck out at him. Bodie waded in again, finally rendering the attacker unconscious, but didn’t have time to check the groaning CIA agent.

  Jemma screamed. Bodie whirled, expecting anything, but even then caught his breath. Mayhem ensued. Jemma knelt before a Chinese Special Forces man, blood running down her cheek. He had a hand tangled in her hair and was holding her close while fending off both Lucie and Alessandro. Gunn was on his knees, doubled over, wheezing in pain. Despite the admiration he felt for Lucie and Alessandro, his heart leapt for Jemma and Gunn. Ten steps away, he sprinted as if he was trying to outrun a bullet.

  But then Cross ran past him, and the original five Bratva were just a meter away, piling out of the arcade and into the fight. Bodie couldn’t avoid them. One man careened into him, knocking him off his feet and winding him. Bodie landed hard and rolled, shouting into his earpiece.

  “Jemma. Fight him! Get up and fight!”

  “You’re kidding!” Her voice came across weak and muffled.

  Bodie used the brick wall to gain his feet, looked over, and saw Jemma turn her head and sink her teeth into her opponent’s thigh. Bodie cringed, because it wasn’t the thigh at all.

  Her opponent pulled away, letting go of Jemma’s hair. It was one of the few times Bodie had seen her without her bun, and the difference was striking. She wiped her face. Bodie flat-armed a Moroccan in the nose and rushed past, leaving Cross to engage them.

  Jemma forced Lucie and Alessandro back against the wall, shielding their bodies. Now Bodie saw Gunn, lying flat out and hopefully just unconscious. Cassidy continued to engage both opponents, her ripped pants now matched by a ripped shirt, and all covered in blood.

  Heidi was barely moving.

  And here they were, pitted against properly trained soldiers. They were no match. They were battered, not superhuman, having met more than their equals. Bodie hoped they could get out of it alive.

  The Bratva’s chaotic arrival had helped. In particular, the way they had poured out of the mall in disarray, just plowing into the brawl. The bald man engaged Cross hand-to-hand, while the others set about the two soldiers in combat with Cassidy. The redhead, allowed a moment of respite, collapsed onto her bottom, panting and wasted, arms hanging listlessly. Bodie stumbled under the bald man’s assault, then spun and shrugged him off. The man fell into the street, striking the curb. The crowd watched, some crying out and others filming. A man in a wheelchair tried to ignore the entire fracas and force his way through, but was pulled aside a moment before Yasmine’s stumble would have sent him flying.

  An engine roared. Bodie whirled to see a black van flying up the road, knocking some pedestrians aside. With horror he saw it run over a man’s legs and then saw two Chinese soldiers through the windshield.

  No way out.

  Fight, then.

  The van roared past and stopped adjacent to Jemma. Sliding doors were flung open. Four men poured out like black lava, faces and bodies entirely covered. Bodie saw them reach for Jemma and felt a new level of fear.

  “No!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jemma struck out as the Chinese came for her, but two men dragged her away from Alessandro. Two others grabbed the Italian and Lucie, and pulled them aggressively toward the van. Bodie was running so fast he was practically airborne. Striking Jemma’s adversaries before they knew what was happening, he sent both of them sprawling to the ground.

  Bodie landed well, rolled, then came face-to-face with one of the felled Chinese soldiers. The eyes under the mask were unreadable. Bodie made a wild swing, putting all his remaining strength into it.

  Cassidy looked up, still wheezing hard, to see the Bratva being ground down by her two previous opponents. One man was already limping badly, another labored with one eye fully closed. The only way she’d stood a chance was to show them her ability to street-fight raw and dirty—a trait they became wary of very quickly. The Bratva might think they were street fighters, but they weren’t even close to her league.

  Still hanging her head, she looked to the left. It was the noise of the van’s engine that had roused her. Now she saw Bodie struggling with the soldier he’d just taken a swing at and Jemma on the ground. Jemma looked out of it, exhausted. She saw Alessandro and Lucie being manhandled into the van. She remembered all too well what had happened to Carl Kirke.

  Cross fell before her, groaning in agony, but she ignored it. Worse, she used his frame to push herself upright, then gingerly tested her limbs.

  All there.

  That was enough. She stumbled into the road, came up behind the van, and slipped around it. Sliding open the door, she took stock of what was inside.

  A driver and a passenger, screaming at their comrades to hurry. Lucie lying prone, shocked by the sudden opening of the door, hands bound but legs still kicking. Cassidy gritted her teeth, just as shocked at the incongruous sight of Lucie’s ripped signature woolly sweater as much as the blood and scrapes all over her exposed skin.

  The Chinese soldier tying Lucie’s feet together glared at Cassidy. She bared her teeth, grabbed Lucie under the arms, and hauled her out, dropping her unceremoniously onto the street. By the time Cassidy came back up, the soldier’s feet were in her face. He was holding on to the roof of
the van, swinging his legs, and the underside of his boots filled her vision. They connected solidly, made her see stars, and flung her backward over Lucie and onto the concrete path.

  The van door slid shut with a deafening clang.

  On the other side, Bodie saw Cassidy kicked away and then the doors slammed shut. Alessandro was still inside. The Chinese then ran for and piled into the front seat, doubling up. Bodie was on his feet, but the van was already moving.

  Civilians and tourists jumped out of the way. Bodie saw that the Bratva soldiers had quit fighting and that Yasmine had hauled Cross up by the front of his shirt and was squeezing the man’s throat.

  Gotta be hallucinating.

  But no. Her words came clearly through the comms as her lips brushed the older man’s.

  “I’m in charge now. He put me in charge of this and said if I fail he will throw me naked to the wolves. You caused this. You. It was fine before you came, before you spoiled my life yet again. Get in my way and I will kill you all.”

  As if to prove her point, she brought up a sharp knee between Cross’s legs. When she let go, he slithered to the ground like a boneless snake, unable to move. She glared at Bodie once, tight faced, unhappy, and then ordered her men out of there.

  What the hell just happened?

  Bodie saw the van screaming away. Chasing it was out of the question. With limbs shrieking, joints pounding, and his equilibrium shot to shit, he set about rounding up the rest of the crew.

  Barely conscious, they limped away from the scene.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Since they were all together and time was short, they stopped halfway up a dark back alley. Even before he recovered, Bodie spoke up regarding Alessandro. “We’re not leaving him behind.”

  “We have very little time,” Jemma said, leaning against a grimy wall. “They’ll take him somewhere to interrogate him.”

  “Sorry, Jem,” Cross said. “It’s not like that in real life. They will interrogate him in the van and then . . .”

  He broke off, unwilling to finish in front of Lucie.