by P. W. Child
Nina had a similar expression. “That is where the Atlantic Ocean gets its name, I suppose. Jesus, it’s so big, how could everyone miss it all this time?” she jested, but her thoughts were sincere.
“It would seem so,” Otto agreed. “But, my dear Dr. Gould, you have to remember that it’s not about the circumference or the size, but the depths at which this land lies below the surface.”
“I suppose. But you’d think with the technology they have to breach space, they’d think to produce technology to dive to immense depths,” she scoffed.
“Preaching to the choir, lady,” Otto smiled. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
“What script is this one?” she asked him, gently unrolling another scroll that contained several entries mentioning Atlantis or some derivative thereof.
“This is Greek. Let me see,” he said, focusing on every word his scanning index finger traced. “Typical why the damn Nazi’ would have wanted to find Atlantis . . .”
“Why?”
“This text speaks of Sun worship being the religion of Atlanteans. Sun worship . . . sound familiar to you?”
“Oh, God, yes,” she sighed.
“This was probably written by an Athenian. They were at war with Atlanteans, refusing to give up their land to the conquests of Atlantis, and Athenians kicked their asses. Here, this part notes that the continent lay ‘West of the Pillars of Herakles,’” he added, crushing the butt of his smoke in the ashtray.
“And that would be?” Nina asked. “Wait, Pillars of Herakles was Gibraltar. The Strait of Gibraltar!”
“Oh, all right. I thought it would be in the Mediterranean somewhere. Close,” he replied, caressing the yellow parchment and nodding contemplatively. He was in awe of the antiquity he was privileged to learn from. “This is Egyptian papyrus, as you probably know,” Otto told Nina in a dreamy voice, like an old grandfather telling a child a fairy tale. Nina enjoyed his wisdom and his respect for history. “The oldest civilization stemming directly from the super-advanced Atlanteans was settled in Egypt. Now, if I were a lyrical and romantic soul,” he winked at Nina, “I would love to think this very scroll was written on by an actual Atlantean descendant.”
His plump face was full of wonder and Nina was no less in awe of the notion. The two shared a moment of silent bliss about the idea before both erupting in a chuckle.
“Now all we have to do is chart the geographical position and see if we can make history,” Purdue smiled. He stood watching them with a glass of single malt in his hand, listening to the resolute information from the Atlantis Scrolls that Himmler eventually had Werner killed for in 1946.
Maisy served a light dinner by request of the guests. While everyone sat down for a hearty meal by the hearth, Purdue disappeared for a while. Sam wondered what Purdue was hiding this time, leaving almost directly after the housekeeper disappeared out the back door.
Nobody else seemed to notice. Alexandr was telling Nina and Otto horror stories about his late twenties in Siberia and they looked completely fascinated by his stories.
Swallowing down his last bit of whisky, Sam slipped out to follow in Purdue’s steps to see what he was up to. Sam was fed-up with Purdue’s secrets, but what he saw when he followed him and Maisy to the guest house boiled his blood. It was time for Sam to put an end to Purdue’s reckless wagers, using Nina and Sam as pawns every time. From his pocket Sam drew out his cell phone and he set out doing what he did best—photographing deals.
When he got enough evidence he ran back up to the house. Sam now had some secrets of his own and, being sick of getting thrust in the middle of similarly wicked factions every time, he decided it was time for the tables to turn.
Chapter 39
Otto Schmidt had spent most of the night carefully calculating the best point of reference from where the party would search for the lost continent. After myriad possible entry points from where they could start their scan to dive, he finally found that the best latitude and longitude would be the archipelago of Madeira, southwestward off the coast of Portugal.
Although the more popular choice for most excursions had always been the Strait of Gibraltar, or the mouth of the Mediterranean Sea, he opted for Madeira because of the close proximity it had to a previous discovery mentioned in one of the old record ledgers of the Black Sun. He recalled the discovery mentioned in arcane reports from when he used to research locations of Nazi-occult artifacts before flying the respective exploration teams all over the world to hunt for those items.
They found quite a few of the pieces they searched for back in those days, he remembered. However, many of the truly great ones, the fabric of legend and myth that were a reach even for the esoteric minds of the SS, eluded them all. Eventually they became nothing but fool’s errand for those in pursuit, such as the lost continent of Atlantis and the invaluable part of it that was so sought after by those who knew.
Now was his chance to claim at least some credit in discovering one of the most elusive of them all, the Seat of Solon, said to have been the place where the first Aryans sprang from. It was said to be an egg-shaped relic that contained the DNA of a super-human race, according to Nazi literature. With such a find, Otto could not even fathom the power the brigade would have over the Black Sun, let alone the scientific world.
Of course, if it depended on him, he would never allow the world access to such a priceless find. The common consensus of the Brigade Apostate was that dangerous relics should be kept secret and guarded well, so that they could not be abused by those who thrived on greed and power. And it would be exactly what he would do—claim it and lock it away in the impenetrable rock of the Russian mountain ranges.
Only he knew about the Seat of Solon, and therefore he opted for Madeira to occupy the others with the rest of the submerged landmass. Sure, it was a major thing to discover even any part of Atlantis, but Otto was after something far more potent, precious beyond any possible estimation—something the world must never know of.
It was quite the trip southward from Scotland toward the coast of Portugal, but the base group, consisting of Nina, Sam, and Otto, took their time with stops to refuel the helicopter and to have lunch on Porto Santo Island. Meanwhile, Purdue had procured a boat for them and outfitted it with scuba gear and sonar-scanning equipment that would shame any institute short of the World Marine Archaeology Research Institute. He had a small fleet of yachts and fishing trawlers all over the globe, but he had his affiliates in France do some emergency work to find him a new yacht that could carry what he needed and still be compact enough for unassisted sailing.
The discovery of Atlantis would be Purdue’s biggest find ever. Without a doubt it would surpass his reputation as inventor and explorer extraordinaire and hurl him right into the history books as the man who rediscovered the lost continent. Beyond any ego or money, that would propel his status to an unshakable standing, the latter of which would assure him security and authority in any organization he chose—including the Order of the Black Sun or the Brigade Apostate, or any other powerful society he chose.
With him was Alexandr, of course. Both men dealt well with their injuries and, being absolute fools for adventure, neither allowed their wounds to deter them from this exploration. Alexandr was grateful that Otto had called in Bern’s death to the brigade and notified Bridges that he and Alexandr would assist here for a few days before returning to Russia. This would keep them from executing Sergei and Katya for now, but that threat was still running with the hourglass, and it was something that weighed heavily on the Russian’s normally glib and carefree demeanor.
It vexed him that Purdue knew where Renata was, but remained indifferent to the issue. Unfortunately, with the sum Purdue had paid him, he would not say a word on the subject and hope that he could do something before his time ran out. He wondered if Sam and Nina would still be inaugurated into the Brigade, but with Otto present there would be a legitimate representative of the organization to speak for them.
“S
o, my old friend, shall we set sail?” Purdue exclaimed from the hatch of the engine room he emerged from.
“Aye, aye, captain,” the Russian shouted from the wheel.
“We have to make good time, Alexandr,” Purdue grinned, patting the Russian on the back as he enjoyed the breeze.
“Da, there is not much more time for some of us,” Alexandr hinted with an unusually serious tone.
It was early afternoon and the ocean was perfectly mild, breathing calmly under the hull as the pale sun glimmered on the silver bars and the surface of the water.
A licensed skipper like Purdue, Alexandr entered their bearings on the controls and the two men set off from Lorient toward Madeira, where they would meet up with the others. Once on the open sea the group would navigate according to the information given on the scrolls that the Austrian pilot had translated for them.
~~~
Nina and Sam shared some of their old war stories about their run-ins with the Black Sun later that evening when they met with Otto to share a few drinks, waiting for Purdue and Alexandr to arrive the next day, if all went as planned. The island was stunning and the weather mild. Nina and Sam checked into different rooms, for propriety’s sake, but Otto thought nothing of mentioning it outright.
“Why do you disguise your relationship so carefully?” the weathered old pilot asked them between stories.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked innocently, casting a quick look at Nina.
“It is very obvious that the two of you are close. My God, man, you are obviously lovers, so stop acting like two teenagers fucking next to the parents’ room and check in together!” he exclaimed a tad louder than he had intended.
“Otto!” Nina gasped.
“I’m sorry to be so crass, my dear Nina, but seriously. We’re all adults. Or is it that you have reason to hide your affair?” his raspy voice picked at the scab they both avoided. But before anyone responded, it hit Otto and he exhaled a loud, “Ah! I see!” and sank back in his chair with a foamy amber beer in hand. “There is a third player. I think I know who it is too. The billionaire, of course! What beautiful woman would not share her affection with someone as wealthy as that, even if her heart yearns for the less . . . financially sound male?”
“I will have you know I find that remark insulting!” Nina seethed, her infamous temper ignited.
“Nina, don’t get defensive,” Sam cajoled her, smiling at Otto.
“If you’re not going to defend me, Sam, kindly shut up,” she sneered and locked eyes with an indifferent looking Otto. “Herr Schmidt, I don’t think you are in a position to generalize and make assumptions about my affections toward people when you know absolutely nothing about me,” she reprimanded the pilot in a harsh tone that she managed to keep as low as possible, considering how furious she was. “Maybe the caliber of women you acquaint yourself with is that desperate and shallow, but I am not. I take care of myself.”
He gave her a long hard look, the kindness in his eyes turned to vindictive punishment. Sam felt his stomach drop at Otto’s quiet leer. This was precisely why he tried to stop Nina from losing her temper. She seemed to have forgotten that both Sam’s fate and hers depended on Otto’s good graces or the Brigade Apostate would make quick work of them both, not to mention their Russian friends.
“If that is the case, Dr. Gould, that you take care of yourself, I pity you. If this is the kind of mess you get into by your own means, I fear you are better off being some deaf man’s concubine, than this rich imbecile’s lapdog,” Otto replied in a husky and threatening condescension that would have any misogynist standing attention and applauding. Without a care for her retort he slowly rose from his chair, “I’ve got to take a piss. Sam, get us another round.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sam hissed at her.
“What? Did you hear what he insinuated? You were too fucking spineless to defend my honor, so what did you expect was going to happen?” she snapped back.
“You know he is one of only two commanders left of the people who have us all by the balls; people who brought the Black Sun to its knees so far, right? Piss him off and we’ll all have a cozy burial at sea!” Sam reminded her categorically.
“Aren’t you supposed to get your new boyfriend a round at the bar?” she bitched sarcastically, livid at her inability to belittle the men in her company as easily as she usually could. “He mostly called me a whore, willing to side with whoever is in power.”
Sam did not think before he blurted, “Well, among me, Purdue, and Bern, it has been hard to tell where you would like to make your bed, Nina. He might have a point you want to consider.”
Nina’s dark eyes stretched, but her anger was overshadowed by hurt. Did she just hear Sam say those words or was it some alcoholic devil that manipulated him? Her heart ached and her throat grew a lump, but her anger remained, fueled by his betrayal. In her mind she tried to figure out why Otto would call Purdue an imbecile. Was it to hurt her or draw her out? Or did he know Purdue better than they knew?
Sam just froze and stood waiting for her to rip him, but to his dismay Nina’s eyes birthed tears and she simply stood up and walked off. He felt less contrition than he thought he would, because he honestly felt that way.
But as much as the truth felt good, he still felt like a bastard for what he said.
He sat down to enjoy the rest of the night with the old pilot and his interesting tales and advice. At the table next to theirs two men seemed to be discussing the whole episode they had just witnessed. The tourists spoke Dutch or Flemish, but they did not mind Sam seeing them talk about him and the woman.
“Women,” Sam smiled, and raised his beer glass. The men laughed in agreement and lifted their glasses in concurrence.
Nina was grateful they had separate rooms, or she might have killed Sam in his sleep in a fit of rage. Her anger did not come so much from the fact that he sided with Otto on her cavalier manner with men, but from the fact that she had to face that there was much truth in his statement. Bern was her bosom buddy when they were prisoners in Mönkh Saridag, mostly because she deliberately used her charms to soften their fate when she learned about being a dead ringer for his wife.
She opted for Purdue’s advances when she was pissed at Sam, instead of just jabbing it out with him. And what would she have done without Purdue’s financial maintenance while he was missing? Not once did she bother to look for him in earnest, but occupied herself with her studies, funded by his affection for her.
“My God,” she shrieked as quietly as she could after she had locked her door and fell on the bed, “they are right! I am just an entitled little girl using my charisma and status to keep myself alive. I’m the court whore to whatever king is in power!”
Chapter 40
Purdue and Alexandr ran scans of the ocean floor a few nautical miles from their destination already. They wanted to determine if there were any anomalies or unnatural fluctuations in the geography of the gradients below them that could indicate human structures or uniform peaks that could present ancient remains of architecture. Any geomorphologic discrepancies in surface features could mean submerged material different from the localized sediment and that would be worth inspecting.
“I never knew Atlantis was supposed to be this big,” Alexandr remarked, looking at the perimeter set on the deep sonar scanner. It stretched, according to Otto Schmidt, well across the Atlantic, between the Mediterranean and the Americas. On the west side of the screen it reached to the Bahamas and Mexico, which made sense in the theory that this was the reason why Egyptian and South American architecture and religions contained pyramids and similar building structures from one common influence.
“Oh yes, it was said to be bigger than North Africa and Asia Minor combined,” Purdue explained.
“But then it is literally too big to be found, because there are landmasses encroaching on those perimeters,” Alexandr mentioned, more to himself than to present company.
“Oh, but those lan
dmasses are part of the underlying plate, I’m sure—like peaks of a mountain range hiding the rest of the mountain,” Purdue said. “God, Alexandr, think if we should discover this continent, what fame we would attain!”
Alexandr could not care less about fame. All he cared about was finding out where Renata was so that he could get Katya and Sergei off the hook before their time ran out. He had noticed that Sam and Nina were already very amicable with Comrade Schmidt and that was in their favor, but as far as the deal went, there was no change in the conditions and that kept him up all night. He constantly reached for the vodka to soothe him, especially when the climate of Portugal began to irritate his Russian sensibilities. The country was of breathtaking beauty, but he missed home. He missed the bitter cold, the snow, the burning Samogon and the hot women.
When they reached the islands around Madeira, Purdue looked forward to meeting up with Sam and Nina, although he was wary of Otto Schmidt. Perhaps Purdue’s affiliation with the Black Sun was still too fresh or maybe Otto did not like that Purdue had not explicitly picked a side, but the Austrian pilot was not in Purdue’s inner sanctum, that was certain.
However, the old man played a valuable role and had helped them a lot thus far toward translating parchments in obscure languages and locating the likely site they were looking for, so Purdue had to suck it up and accept the man’s presence among them.
When they met up, Sam mentioned how impressed he was with the boat Purdue purchased. Otto and Alexandr stepped aside and caught up on where, and at what estimated depth, the landmass was supposedly sleeping. Nina stood to one side, taking in the fresh ocean air and feeling a bit under the weather from the numerous bottles of Coral and countless glasses of Poncha she bought after she returned to the bar. Feeling depressed and angry after Otto’s insult, she cried on her bed for almost an hour, waiting for Sam and Otto to retire so that she could hit the bar again. And she did, properly.
