by P. W. Child
He tugged at Sam’s flipper, almost scaring the man to death. Purdue gestured for them to go back up and showed Sam the vials he had filled with materials. Sam nodded, and they ascended toward the bright light of the sunrays that penetrated the rapidly approaching surface above them.
After determining that there was nothing out of the ordinary on a chemical level, the party was a bit disappointed.
“Listen, this landmass is not restricted to just the west coasts of Europe and Africa,” Nina reminded them. “Just because there is nothing conclusive right under us, does not mean it is not a few miles west or southwest even up to the American coastline. Chin up!”
“I was just so sure there was something under here,” Purdue sighed with his head thrown back in exhaustion.
“We’ll go down again in a bit,” Sam assured him, with an encouraging tap on the shoulder. “I’m sure we are onto something here, but I think we are just not deep enough yet.”
“I agree with Sam,” Alexandr nodded, chugging back another swig of spirits. “The scanner shows that there are craters and odd structures a bit lower down.”
“If I only had a submersible now, readily available,” Purdue said, rubbing his chin.
“We have that remote explorer,” Nina suggested. “Yes, but it cannot collect anything, Nina. It can only show us the terrain we already know.”
“Well, we can try to see what we come up with on another dive,” Sam said, “sooner than later.” In his hand he held his underwater camera, flipping through the various shots to rename the best angles for downloading later.
“Absolutely,” Purdue agreed. “Let’s give it one more go before the day is over. Only this time we go more toward the west. Sam, you’ll record what we find.”
“Aye, and I’m coming with you this time,” Nina winked at Purdue, getting ready to suit up.
They collected several ancient artifacts during the second dive. Clearly the west of the location harbored more drowned history, while there was a wealth of architecture buried down on the ocean floor too. Purdue looked excited, but Nina could tell that the items were not old enough to hail from the renowned Atlantean era and shook her head with sympathy every time Purdue thought he was holding the key to Atlantis.
Eventually they had scoured most of the designated terrain they set out to explore, but still found no trace of the legendary continent. Maybe it really was just lying too deep to be discovered without the proper exploration vessels, and that would be no problem for Purdue to procure once he was back in Scotland.
~~~
Back in a bar in Funchal, Otto Schmidt was tying up the last ends of his trip. The experts at Mönkh Saridag had now noticed that the Longinus was relocated. They notified Otto that it was not in Wewelsburg anymore, although it was still active. In fact, they could not track its current whereabouts at all, which meant it was being kept in an electromagnetic environment.
He also received word from his men in Thurso, with some good news.
He called the Brigade Apostate just before 5 p.m. to report.
“Bridges, it’s Schmidt,” he said under his breath from a table at the pub where he was waiting on a call from Purdue’s yacht. “We have Renata. Call off the vigil on the Strenkovs. Arichenkov and I will be back in three days.”
He watched the Flemish tourists standing outside waiting for their friends on the fishing boat to dock after a day on the sea. His eyes narrowed.
“Don’t worry about Purdue. The tracking modules in Sam Cleave’s system drew the council straight to him. They think he still has Renata, so they’ll take care of him. They’ve been following him since Wewelsburg and now I see they are here in Madeira to collect,” he informed Bridges.
He said nothing about the Seat of Solon, which was his own pursuit, once Renata had been delivered and the Longinus found. But his friend Sam Cleave, the latest initiate of the Brigade Apostate, had locked on a cavern that was situated exactly where the scrolls had crossed their bearings. As a show of loyalty to the brigade, the journalist sent Otto the coordinates of the place he believed the Seat of Solon to be under, which he pinpointed with the GPS device installed in his camera.
When Purdue, Nina, and Sam resurfaced the sun was beginning to droop onto the horizon, even though the pleasant and mild daylight would still persist for another hour or two. They wearily got aboard the yacht, helping one another unload their scuba and research burdens one by one.
Purdue perked up, “Where the hell is Alexandr?”
Nina frowned, twisting her body to get a good look around the deck, “Maybe sublevel?”
Sam went down into the engine room and Purdue checked the cabin, the head, and the galley.
“Nothing,” Purdue shrugged. He looked flabbergasted, and so did Nina.
Sam emerged from the engine room.
“I don’t see him anywhere,” he panted, hands in his sides.
“Wonder if the crazy fool fell overboard after too much vodka,” Purdue pondered out loud.
Purdue’s communication device beeped. “Oh, excuse me for a second,” he said, and checked the message. It was from Maisy McFadden. It said
“Dog Catchers! Cleave.”
Purdue’s face dropped and turned wan. He took a moment to stabilize his heart rate and elected to keep an even keel. With no sign of distress he cleared his throat as he returned to the other two.
“In any event, we have to get back to Funchal before dark. We’ll return to the seas of Madeira once I have the right equipment for those obscene depths,” he announced.
“Aye, I have a good feeling about what’s beneath us,” Nina smiled.
Sam knew differently, but he cracked open a beer for each of them and looked forward to what was waiting once they arrived back in Madeira. The sun was setting on more than Portugal tonight.
END
