Suddenly something hit him hard, and there was a flood of air in his helmet. He breathed in, great gulping breaths, feeling his head reel, his body instantly coming back to life again. Costas was holding him tight, tying the line that was looped around his own shoulders to Jack’s, keeping it free from the backup air hose that he had plugged from his backpack into Jack’s helmet. He stared into Jack’s visor. ‘You okay?’
‘That was a bit tight.’
‘Okay. Let’s get out of here.’ Costas led up the line, his bulk providing a buffer against the current that Jack was grateful to follow, keeping close behind so that the air hose was not stretched. Inch by inch they pulled themselves back through the tunnel and towards the wrecked deck gun on the U-boat where Costas had tied the line. Ten minutes after leaving the cavern they were free of the current, which wavered in the water like a giant twister about five metres in front of the U-boat’s bow. Jack began to relax, following Costas as he made his way up the casing of the submarine towards the conning tower. ‘Okay. This is what I wanted to find.’ Costas took out a small crowbar from his kit and set to work on a low metal cover about the size of a small bed. It came away easily, revealing a folded inflatable boat that had clearly been sealed in an airtight space, looking in remarkably good condition as Costas shook it out. He fumbled around beneath it, found what he wanted and leaned back. ‘Heads up,’ he said. He pulled a cord and the boat suddenly began to inflate, then billowed up and rocketed towards the surface some twenty metres above. ‘Thought we may as well enjoy some comfort while we wait for Paul,’ Costas said.
They began to ascend towards the irregular gap in the rocks that led to the surface, steering clear of the lethal whirlpool that whipped through the opening on one side. Jack looked up, seeing sunlight streaming through. Whatever had happened to the hurricane, it must have bypassed them. A dark shape came across the hole, about ten metres from them and five metres higher. Jack stared. It was impossible. ‘Costas, we’ve got company.’
Coming towards them were two divers, Saumerre and the other man. They were both wearing primitive Nazi oxygen rebreathers. ‘Shit,’ Costas said. ‘They must have found those inside the habitat. I didn’t think to look.’ Jack looked at his depth gauge. They were still eighteen metres deep, almost twice the safe depth for pure oxygen diving. The second diver seemed sluggish, trailing behind Saumerre, almost certainly showing the effects of oxygen poisoning. But he was carrying a vicious-looking knife, and they were closing in. Jack looked at Costas.
‘The guy behind is suffering. Let’s take him out first.’
Costas removed his grapple gun from its holster and loaded a round. They were less than eight metres away now, easily within range. He aimed quickly and fired, but the metal grapple shot just to the right of the man’s legs and carried on for another few metres before dropping down, pulling the grapple line with it and catching the man’s fin. He twisted round, trying to free himself, but only entangling his leg more, pulling Costas towards him. Costas fumbled to disengage the line from the carabiner, where it was hooked to his e-suit. Jack watched as the line with the grapple dangling below began to twist round and round into the whirlpool. To his horror he realized that it was pulling the man and Costas towards the vortex as well. He pulled out his knife and grabbed Costas, who had realized what was happening and was desperately trying to fin towards the rock wall. Jack finned hard against the pull of the line, then severed it with one swipe of his knife. They both rocketed forward out of the vortex. The man was already limp in the water, unconscious from oxygen poisoning, and Jack watched him plummet with horrifying speed down the whirlpool, disappearing through the tunnel to a place from which there could be no return.
When he looked up again, he realized that Saumerre had swum through the hole and was now over the reef heading out into the open ocean. It seemed a hopeless enterprise, but there was always the possibility that Saumerre’s boat had not been apprehended and would return to pick him up. Jack and Costas were too encumbered with gear to catch up. Jack made a snap decision. They were only about eight metres deep now, so he could easily surface. The dive had been shallow enough to mean that they had not exceeded their no-stop decompression time, so they shouldn’t have to worry about the bends. He took several deep breaths, then unlocked the quick release on his backpack and his helmet, pulling the unit off and pushing it away, then reaching down to where he kept an emergency mask in a pocket on his leg, quickly putting it on and clearing it. Costas look at him in alarm, but Jack did a quick okay sign and pointed towards the rapidly receding form of Saumerre. He powered after him, the palladion acting as a useful weight in the absence of his backpack.
He was out beyond the edge of the reef wall over the abyss, and reached Saumerre just as his chest began to tighten. His plan was to push Saumerre bodily down below the ten-metre safety threshold for the oxygen rebreather, then to leave him as he became unconscious. He was on Saumerre before the other man had realized what was happening, pushing down on his shoulders and powering down with his fins. Saumerre reacted instantly and with surprising strength, twisting round and grasping Jack’s arms. His grip was like a vice. Jack remembered what he was carrying. He let go of Saumerre, reached into the satchel and pulled out the palladion, the gold and dull metal swastika, feeling its weight, seeing for the first time the Atlantis symbol impressed in the edge. Saumerre saw it too, and froze.
Jack held it out to him.
For an instant, Saumerre’s hands remained gripped on Jack’s arm. Then he let go, and grabbed the palladion, his eyes lighting up. He knew it now served no more purpose, that there were no secret chambers to unlock, but it had been a prize he had sought all his life, from the time his grandfather must have told told him what he had seen in that awful bunker outside the concentration camp almost seventy years ago. He was enraptured by it. Jack watched him sink down, oblivious to its weight, staring at it. He must have reached fifteen metres, then twenty, and below him there was nothing but a sheer drop of a mile or more into blackness. Too late he realized his mistake. He let go of the palladion, and grasped his head in agony, tearing at the rebreather. Then he went limp. The palladion had caught in the webbing on his chest, and Jack watched it as Saumerre fell, his body face up and slowly spinning until all Jack could see was the golden shape of the swastika spinning round and round, shrouded in a swirl of tiny bubbles, until it disappeared into blackness.
Jack’s lungs were screaming for air. A regulator was thrust into his face. He grabbed it and put it in his mouth, sucking hard, looking at Costas. The sun was shining brilliantly on the surface, and they could see the dark shape of the inflatable from the U-boat bobbing above them. Slowly they began to ascend together. Just before breaking surface, Jack looked down again, half expecting to see that shape somewhere below him, but there was nothing but darkness.
It was over.
Epilogue
‘Jack, correct me if I’m wrong, but are you and I sailing off into the sunset together?’
Jack peered at Costas, then at the boat they were in, and then at the miles of empty ocean surrounding them, barely visible in the blinding sunlight. They were wedged opposite each other with hardly any space to move, but the old German inflatable seemed as strong as the day it had been packed on board the U-boat more than sixty-five years before, its CO 2 bottle still pressurized enough to fill the pontoons. Jack had stripped down the upper half of his wetsuit to his T-shirt, but Costas was still wearing his tattered off-grey boilersuit bearing the scars and patches from their encounter with molten lava in another ocean a few days previously. Jack was holding the waterproof two-way radio that Costas had taken from a special pocket in his boilersuit that miraculously remained watertight. After surfacing and struggling into the boat, they had immediately sent out a VHF call to Paul, who was on his way back from Seaquest II in the Lynx and due to arrive in a matter of minutes.
Costas reached into the waist of his boilersuit and pulled out a compressed bag. He unzipped it and extract
ed something that looked like a wedge of unleavened bread, with something colourful oozing out of the sides. He sniffed it, grunted, and took a bite. He looked at Jack as he munched away, then swallowed. ‘Not bad,’ he said, wiping his mouth. ‘Tuna and cucumber. Want one?’
‘You brought sandwiches. Sandwiches.’
Costas raised his arms. ‘So what?’
‘As if we were going on a picnic?’
Costas gestured with his sandwich at his boilersuit, speaking with his mouth full. ‘Empty pocket otherwise. May as well fill them.’
Jack grinned, shaking his head, then reached into his own leg pocket and took out a small plastic water bottle, uncapping it and draining it completely. He took out another one from the other side, then leaned back, squinting at the sun and closing his eyes, enjoying the heat. He felt something hit his hand, opened his eyes and saw a baseball cap, then saw that Costas was wearing one as well.
‘Sun hats. One for me too. You blow me away.’
‘Be prepared. That’s my motto.’ Costas reached into another pocket and pulled out his old aviator sunglasses, putting them on at a skewed angle and looking at Jack, who was trying not to smile. Costas raised his arms again. ‘What?’
‘Got anything else in there?’
‘You want to know?’ Costas took a huge bite of his sandwich, and then began patting his boilersuit. The radio came to life, and Jack spoke into it for a few minutes. He put his hand over the receiver and spoke to Costas. ‘I’m just talking to Macalister on Seaquest II. There’s been an interesting development. Reuters is reporting a cruise missile strike in the heart of the Taklamakan Desert. Ben has been in touch with our MI6 contact, and they reckon the target was Shang Yong’s headquarters. MI6 have been expecting a crackdown on his operations by China, but not so soon. The evidence is pointing to an offshore US strike, and that can only have come about through intelligence on a high-category terrorist threat. Ben reckons they must have been closely monitoring Saumerre, and that Shang Yong has paid the price for agreeing to work for him.’
‘Rebecca will be happy,’ Costas said, munching. ‘That really closes the lid on the bad guys.’
Jack nodded. He felt the box in his suit pocket containing the phial he had persuaded Saumerre to give him. Once that was deposited in a secure containment facility and destroyed, the lid would truly be closed. He put the radio back to his ear and spoke for a few more minutes. Then he put it down and laughed out loud, the first time he had done that in months. He grinned at Costas. ‘You remember a promise you made to a new friend a few days ago?’
‘Huh?’
‘You’re going to need a tuxedo.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘Lanowski’s getting married.’
Costas dropped his sandwich. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘Nope.’ Jack offered him the radio. ‘Speak to Macalister if you want. It’s the biggest news since we found Atlantis.’
Costas waved away the radio. ‘You mean they actually met?’
‘Yesterday, in Bermuda. It was love at first sight.’
‘I can’t believe I offered to be his best man. And that he accepted.’
‘You’re his new best buddy. You were the one who took him on that submersible ride over Atlantis.’
‘Yes, but…’ Costas pointed at the mess of tuna and cucumber on his wetsuit. ‘Me? In a tuxedo?’
‘Apparently they want the wedding to be in the submersible. It was that picture you took of him at the controls, the one he posted of himself on the dating website. That was what really did it for her. She’s crazy about him. But Macalister has a plan. As well as a PhD, she’s a Vogue model. We can sell the photo rights. It’ll be the eccentric celebrity wedding of the year. And you’ll be smack bang in the middle of it.’
‘My God,’ Costas moaned, putting his hands to his face. ‘If only I hadn’t opened my big mouth.’
Jack pulled his hat down to cover his eyes, then lay back on the pontoon. ‘If you need any help with the best-man speech, just let me know. I did it for Maurice and Aysha.’
Looking dejected, Costas attempted to recover the debris of his sandwich from his lap, stuffing a piece of bread and tuna into his mouth. Then he pointed up, gesturing, and Jack tipped back his hat and shaded his eyes. He could see the speck of a helicopter, getting bigger as it approached, the noise reverberating off the sea. A minute later it swept low past them, then turned around and came in to hover a few hundred feet away, only about twenty feet above the waves. Jack saw Paul wave from the cockpit, and he waved back. The side door slid open and a female wetsuited figure jumped out, falling like an arrow with ankles folded and arms held tight, disappearing with barely a splash into the rotorwash below the Lynx. Moments later the diver’s head appeared and a hand was raised giving the okay sign, then a mesh bag containing fins and a mask was dropped alongside. As the helicopter slowly turned to port and tilted forward, accelerating away over the waves, the diver put on the mask and fins and swam quickly towards them, dropping down underwater about twenty feet away and powering up the side of the boat until she was half inside, leaning on her elbows on the pontoon. She pulled off her mask and shook her long dark hair, tied up in a ponytail. ‘Hi, Dad. Uncle Costas.’
‘Rebecca.’ Jack smiled broadly. ‘I thought you might drop in.’
‘Jeremy’s in the helicopter,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Paul’s gone off for a perimeter sweep, just to make sure there aren’t any more bad guys lurking around.’
‘I don’t think he’s got anything to worry about,’ Costas said, looking at the empty pocket in his boiler suit where the grapple gun had been. ‘We’re well and truly alone.’
‘What did you find?’
Jack took a swig from his water bottle. ‘It was fantastic. Symbols carved on a cave wall. I want you to see it with your own eyes. As soon as Seaquest II is on station this afternoon, we’ll go in there again. Just the three of us.’
‘And Jeremy,’ Rebecca said. ‘Costas qualified him in the sea off Troy a week ago.’
‘Okay.’ Jack smiled. ‘And Jeremy.’
‘Nice one with the palladion, by the way, Jack,’ Costas said, fishing for another sandwich. ‘Never did like that thing. Too many bad associations. And I like the idea that we’ve put something real at the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle. Maybe it’ll keep the pirates away from this place.’
‘You found it?’ Rebecca said. ‘Where is it?’
Jack paused. ‘It got, um, entangled. With Saumerre. They’re somewhere down below us. About five thousand feet deep in the abyss. They probably haven’t even hit the bottom yet.’
‘And then there’s one of Lanowski’s megaturbitides,’ Costas said. ‘About another thousand feet of silt.’
‘And then boiling-hot magma,’ Jack added.
‘So Saumerre really is gone?’ Rebecca said quietly.
Jack reached out and put his hand on hers. ‘It’s finished.’
She looked away, closing her eyes, then looked back at him, blinking away the salt. ‘I didn’t want to say anything. But ever since I was kidnapped last year, it’s been really difficult. Knowing he was still out there, not knowing whether it was going to happen again.’
‘It’s all taken care of.’
‘Have a sandwich,’ Costas said, his mouth full, offering her the bag. ‘They’re a bit flattened, kind of like toasted sandwiches without being toasted, if you see what I mean, a little soggy but surprisingly good.’
Rebecca smiled, wiping her eyes, then peered into the bag. ‘A kind of underwater picnic. Really cool idea, Costas, one of your best. Thanks. Maybe later.’
Jack lay back again. ‘There’s a phrase from the Epic of Gilgamesh. “The dream was marvellous, but the terror was great. We must treasure the dream, whatever the terror.” I feel like that now: as if those few symbols on that cavern wall were like the shining light at the end of the tunnel, like the star of heaven that once fell on those people far back in prehistory and became their guiding light, as
if the dream of this discovery has drawn us through the terror and we’re at the other end.’
‘Do you remember the Walter de la Mare poem, about the silence surging softly backwards?’ Costas said. ‘I know what you mean. It’s as if that great clamour from the past has gone, the cries of the shamans trapped in that chamber in Atlantis, the awful feeling Maurice had as he entered the bunker. He told me on the phone about his aunt Heidi, how she said for her it was as if the Nazi period had never ended, as if the tide of those terrible years had always seemed to sweep ahead of her.’
‘Maybe now it’s begun to turn,’ Rebecca said quietly.
‘So, Jack,’ Costas said, finding something in the bag that might once have been a banana. ‘What are we going to do with all that gold?’
‘ Gold? ’ Rebecca exclaimed
‘Tons of it. In the U-boat.’
‘ U-boat? ’
‘Yep. There’s one of those down there too.’
Jack looked at Costas. ‘You remember last year we took Hugh Frazer to that home outside Auschwitz where they looked after elderly survivors of the concentration camp? We saw the old lady with the harp, the girl Hugh had seen in the camp near Belsen all those years before. There are very few of those survivors left now. But Frau Hoffman said she’d worked as a volunteer at a children’s hospice near that place. I was thinking what a U-boat full of gold could do for a place like that. Nothing about atonement or restitution, nothing about the fact that a lot of that gold probably came from Jews and Poles, but simply to help bring happiness where there has been so little.’
‘Great plan,’ said Rebecca. ‘Can I be the one to talk to Frau Hoffman about it?’
‘I’m sure she’d love to talk to you,’ Jack said.
‘And about us. This quest. Where we go from here,’ Costas said. ‘You said when you saw those symbols in the cavern that you recognized the one that Katya thought meant “west”. That means into the Caribbean islands and towards the mainland, to Mexico. Are we following Noah Uta-napishtim?’
The Gods of Atlantis jh-6 Page 44
