The Atlantis Covenant

by Rob Jones

  Atlantis.

  But they had to get there first, and that meant infiltrating Adler’s castle deep in the Black Forest. Maybe, he thought with a shudder, not all of them would make it to the grand prize at the end of the journey.

  “Max.”

  It was Blanco, his voice low and calm.

  Hunter’s eyes were still closed but he knew what was coming; he felt the car turn a bend and climb a gradient and then come to a stop. “We’re here?”

  “Yup, we’re here.”

  He opened his eyes. They were parked just off the road inside the forest which surrounded the entire castle at the base of the black rock it was built on. Schloss Schwarzenfels or Black Rock Castle as it was known in English, was the ancestral seat of an ancient imperial German house. The dynasty had controlled the region for centuries and built their first castle on the site over a thousand years ago. The current castle was only two hundred years old – a sprawling Gothic Revival masterpiece adorned with palatial courtyards, formal gardens and its own chapel.

  “Willkommen nach Hölle,” Quinn said.

  Jodie looked at her. “Huh?”

  “Welcome to hell,” she shrugged. “Just sort of seemed like the appropriate thing to say.”

  Blanco pointed through the trees. “Is that our way in?”

  Quinn shook her head. “That’s the Adlertor, or the Eagle Gate. It’s kind of Adler’s front door so not our best choice for a covert ingress. Our way in is just off to the east of it – a small entrance used by the servants in years gone by.”

  “And probably still today,” Lewis said.

  They stepped out of the car into a light drizzle and made their way through the trees to a small black wooden gate set into the stones at the base of the castle wall. Blanco wasted no time in hefting a rock and smashing the handle off the gate. After a few moments fiddling around with what was left of the lock, he swung open the door.

  Inside, the cobblestone drive up from the southern gate was empty and silent. High on the side of the mountain, even inside the castle walls, the wind was cold and sharp. When it blew, it howled like a ghost through trees lining the side of the drive. “I guess we get walking,” Jodie said.

  With Hunter in the lead, they started up the slope toward the castle.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Amy Fox tracked Klara Steiner as she walked across the room and joined Karl Adler by the enormous medieval stone-lined fireplace. A fierce fire was raging in the hearth and smoke twisted up into the chimney above it. On the long oak table, a gold candelabra held three black candles which lit the dank room.

  “Who are you people?” Amy asked. “I mean, really.”

  Adler stirred the fire with a fire-blackened brass poker. When he spoke, his voice was mellow and serene. “The Creed are impossible to describe to an outsider. Let me put it like this. We rose from the ashes of the Illuminati when they were banned over two hundred years ago, and that should tell you a lot about us. We hold the values of that society, but we take it further. We draw our strength from sources you would consider unimaginable.”

  The fire spat and crackled and wrapped its long flames around the soft white heartwood of a new log. Amy followed Adler as he slumped down into the leather chair beside the giant hearth. Over his shoulder, she saw the sun twinkling on the oxbow lake meandering around the base of the castle.

  “Unimaginable?” she said.

  He smiled and shook his head. “There is no way you could understand what we do, or why we do it. All you need to know is we have our reasons.” His voice lowered to something like a bestial growl. “And we are in total control of this world. No one can change that.”

  Amy’s skin prickled. Something in this man’s eyes frightened her more than anything else she had known. Staring into the threatening depths of his dark eyes was an unnerving experience. She stepped over to the chair and sat down beside Klara Steiner. The moment was surreal. Chalky motes drifted in the air, occasionally buffeted by the thermals of the roaring fire.

  “Why are you looking for Atlantis, Adler?”

  The Apostle selected a cigarette from a silver case and lit it. He crossed his legs and settled back into the old chair’s velvety, worn leather. “Because the Magus ordered me too.”

  “Cute. Why is the Magus looking for Atlantis?”

  He paused, staring into the flames. “The Illuminati always knew about Atlantis and its secrets. That knowledge was passed down to them from much older secret societies who in turn were enlightened by even more ancient sources of the truth. It goes right back to a place and time beyond your comprehension.”

  Amy considered his reply. “If the Creed runs the world, then this means our leaders know about Atlantis.”

  “And always have done,” Adler said. “We have guarded the secret for millennia, keeping this knowledge away from the greedy, grasping hands of humanity. The entire basis of these societies, including the Illuminati and now the Creed, was to protect the knowledge of Atlantis and the mighty secret it holds.”

  “The mighty secret?”

  “Again, beyond your comprehension,” he said, drawing on the cigarette. He flicked some of the pale ash into the fire. It missed and drifted down onto the vast stone hearth. “The people of Atlantis were more advanced than you can imagine and knew the secret to human origins. Why do you think one of our most precious symbols is the pyramid? This was chosen to remind us of our beginnings, of where our story began. The pyramids of Egypt and the Americas were built in homage to those of the motherland, of the center of the empire and the cradle of all civilizations on earth – Atlantis!”

  Amy looked at him, eyes narrowing. “But you don’t know where Atlantis actually is, do you?”

  “Unfortunately no,” Adler said, frowning. “So ancient is that civilization, and so devastating was its destruction that its location was lost forever. Not even the secret societies were able to pass it down through the ages. The Freemasons searched for it for centuries, then the Illuminati searched for it, and now the Creed. Finally, it is within our grasp.”

  “All the knowledge and power in the world, except for the location of Atlantis,” Amy said with a smile. “Tragic.”

  “True,” Adler said, suddenly animated and jabbing a pale finger in her direction. “But now the tragedy is over. Thanks to the late Julian Walters and the efforts of your team, we now have not only the location of the kingdom of Atlantis, but also the critical components of the fire lance.”

  Amy’s eyes flicked up from the fire and stared at him. “Fire lance?”

  “The three winged statues, Special Agent Fox,” he said.

  Klara Steiner laughed. “You have our guest at a disadvantage.”

  “Yes, apparently so,” Amy said. “You’re saying they’re not statues after all?”

  “They’re statues all right, but they have another role, another meaning. They are critical to our quest.”

  “A quest that is nearly over,” Klara said.

  “Indeed, and nothing can stop us now.”

  They all heard the sound of distant gunfire at the same time, and Adler turned in his chair to hear better through the window. The sound was not the explosive thunderous fusillade of an army or a police force besieging the castle, but the tinny crackle of sidearms and the occasional sound of people shouting outside the castle.

  Adler stared at Klara’s drawn face and they each paled.

  “Nothing can stop you now,” Amy said. “Except my team.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Hunter rolled through the gravel and slammed up against the stone wall in the castle courtyard. Changing magazines and reloading the heavy weapon in his hands, memories of past combat flashed before his eyes. Iraq. Afghanistan. Dust and blood. Men blown to pieces by IED and mortar shell.

  He wiped the dust from his eyes and watched his small platoon making their way up the slope and into the yard, jumping over a low wall and crashing down beside him. Only minutes earlier, they had been running up a paved walkwa
y from the servants’ gate, then a disciple up on one of the turrets had spotted them and opened fire. After that, things had gone downhill fast.

  “We can get inside through one of these windows, but we need to make sure the room’s clear,” he said. “Use one of the grenades from the safehouse, Sal.”

  Blanco was already ahead of him, gripping an M67 fragmentation grenade with his thick fingers. He pulled the pin and yelled at everyone to cover their heads. Three seconds after the grenade went through the window, a deep explosion blasted a cloud of smoke and dust and detritus over their heads.

  “Go!” Hunter yelled.

  Blanco was first in, up over the sill and firing into the smoke with his MP7. As Jodie, Lewis and Quinn clambered up inside, more disciples ran up through the grounds and took cover behind a wall on the courtyard’s south side. Hunter fired on them, giving valuable cover to his team as they got inside the room.

  “Need a hand, Sal!”

  The man from Brooklyn said nothing, but Hunter knew his reply when he saw another of the fragmentation grenades sail over his head and crash into the men behind the wall. He buried his head in his crossed arms to avoid the devastation, and to shield his eyes from the terrible vision of so many deaths and injuries.

  The grenade exploded hard and close. He felt the thump deep in his chest and heard screams as body parts tumbled back to earth and slapped onto the gravel with a wet smack. All over again he saw visions of war that he had worked so hard so repress, but the sound of Jodie calling out to him brought him back to reality.

  “Are you okay, Hunter?”

  “I’m all right!” he yelled.

  “Then get your ass up here!” she yelled.

  A smile broke on his lips. Maybe Miss Hardass gives a shit after all, he thought. He reached up to the sill and felt two hands pulling him up. It was Lewis and Jodie. They heaved him inside and he crashed down on a burnt, smoldering rug. Blanco was at the door, firing on more disciples with his MP7. The weapon jerked in the big man’s hands, empty shell casings spitting out of the ejector port as he cleared the hallway.

  “We’re good to go!” he yelled, waving them forward with a soot-smeared paw.

  Hunter and the rest of the team followed him through the door and up a grand wooden staircase. Bullets from the fire fight had shredded the intricately carved Baroque newel posts, and a man lay dying on the first landing, his lower right leg almost severed by rounds from the MP7. He moaned as blood pumped from his artery. Hunter hesitated, but Blanco fired another shot into his head and killed him on the spot, pounding past him without even stopping to look.

  It shocked Hunter, even with all his combat experience. He knew the Brooklynite was right. You never leave the enemy alive behind you as you advance, and yet this place was a castle, not a theatre of war; the man some sort of acolyte, not a soldier. He remembered what he had learned about Blanco being a former mercenary and had dark thoughts about what else this man had done. Friendly and loyal on the outside, but maybe driven by some darker mechanism deep on the inside.

  “Cover!” Lewis called out, spraying lead on disciples further up the staircase. Bullets rained down on them from above in response.

  “I see around half a dozen more men!” Blanco yelled, swivelling his MP7 up and firing on them through the gap between the stairs. Rounds raked down the steps, chewing into the wood and pinging off the plaster walls. The team slammed up against the wall out of the line of fire and provided cover for Blanco as he advanced to the next landing.

  When he got there, he swivelled around and fired again, emptying his magazine on the men at the top of the stairs. “I see Amy!” he screamed.

  “What?” Jodie said. “Where?”

  “At the top of the stairs,” Blanco called back. “They’re dragging her across the landing. We have to get up there! Amy, we’re on our way!”

  “Let’s get up there, then!” Quinn said.

  Blanco hesitated. “Wait, they’re setting up a damn GPMG on the top landing. There’s no way we can get through that.”

  “And we have more good news,” Lewis said. “We have at least twenty armed disciples running up the stairs behind us, Sal!”

  “We’re trapped!” Quinn said.

  Jodie quickly leaned over the bannister and saw the men Lewis had described. There were at least twenty, maybe more, all armed with submachine guns and grenades. “Doesn’t look good, Sal! We’ll have our hands full trying to stop these guys advancing on our position.”

  “Then we need to change position,” Hunter said. “We go up.”

  “What about the GPMG?” Jodie asked, eyes desperately searching him for an answer.

  “Sal, a grenade please.”

  Blanco tossed him a grenade from his bag. Hunter caught it, pulled the pin and rolled it down the stairs to the lower landing. “Run!”

  He led the team up the stairs to Blanco on the higher landing. As the disciples turned the corner beneath them, the grenade detonated. The explosion blew four of them to pieces and drove the rest back down the stairs to regroup. Hunter wasn't waiting for them to get their act together. He was up on the landing with Blanco. The team stared at him for direction.

  “Our only hope is taking out the machinegun nest with a grenade,” he said.

  Blanco nodded. “Agreed.”

  “How many grenades left in the bag of tricks?”

  “One.”

  “Excellent,” Hunter said. “How’s your aim?”

  “Better than yours.”

  “Even better. Listen up everyone. When Sal throws the grenade and hits the two-man crew, we have a window of no more than thirty seconds before they get more men on the gun.”

  “Maybe the grenade will destroy the gun, too?” Quinn said.

  “Or maybe it won’t,” Hunter said. “And maybe they have another gun. See where I’m going with this?”

  She said nothing, giving him a petulant look and rolling her eyes.

  “Good,” he said. “We have to charge up the last flight of stairs in half a minute, guns blazing. All good?”

  Quinn looked horrified. “No, that is not all good! This is like the damn Somme or something.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Hunter said. “Stay at the back with your shoulder against the wall and keep your head down. Got it?”

  “We can’t stay here, Quinn,” Lewis said. “We’re trapped in a pincer movement.”

  “Ben’s right,” Jodie said. “We have to go up. Besides, that’s where they’re keeping Amy.”

  She nodded. “If you guys all say so.”

  “Good. Then let’s get going.” Hunter got into position, ready to lead the charge. “It’s grenade time, Sal.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Blanco threw the grenade and blasted the machinegun nest into the next world. Hunter screamed the order to advance, raising his gun and charging up the stairs. Three steps up, he opened fire on the sulphur-reeking cloud of ash and smoke and dust. The muzzle strobed orange and white in the foul darkness as he powered forward to the landing, sweeping the barrel from right to left and back again.

  The daring gambit had worked. When the smoke cleared, there was no sign of any disciples. The two men working the GPMG were dead, blown to pieces by the grenade’s devastating force. Hunter knew they were the enemy, but hated seeing it. This was no movie, no CGI effect. Visions like this stayed in the mind forever.

  “What now?” Jodie asked.

  “Where did they take Amy, Sal?” Hunter asked.

  He pointed to a heavy dark, hardwood door on the left, covered in old carvings of roses and thistles. “In there.”

  Hunter tried the door. It was locked, and a shoulder barge failed to move it an inch. “We need to blow the lock. Stand by!”

  He took a step back from the door and raised the MP7’s muzzle, but whey heard the sound of gunfire, it wasn’t his.

  “The disciples from the lower landing,” Jodie said.

  Quinn looked scared. “Hurry, Max!”

  Hunt
er fired and ripped the lock to pieces. After that, a second shoulder barge sent the door crashing out of the frame and smashing back into the stone wall inside the room. “Okay, everyone in, now!”

  He fired on the disciples sprinting up the top of the stairs, giving Jodie, Lewis and Quinn time to duck inside the room. Blanco fired on the men as they vaulted over the dead machinegun crew. “You too, Sal.”

  He followed Blanco into the room and slammed the broken door shut. “Great, we have twenty seconds at best – that way!” He nodded at a door on the other side of the room. Blanco tried it, and this time it opened onto another corridor. Gunfire echoed behind them. Its sound inside the castle was raw and terrifying.

  “Move!” he yelled.

  They forged ahead down the second corridor. It was darker than before. A long antique runner stretched away from them like a red river over the floorboards. Behind them, Hunter saw shadows bobbing up and down on the passageway wall as the disciples barrelled toward them through the room, guns raised. Another sharp report of deafening gunshots boomed in the corridor and now they were close enough to see the enemy’s muzzle flashes.

  “Another damn door,” Blanco said.

  It was beside a small lead-lined window looking out onto part of the castle roof. When Hunter peered through it, he saw an executive helicopter ready to take off, blades whirring.

  “They’re dragging Amy into a chopper.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly, and the window’s too small to go through. Blow the lock, Sal.”

  Blanco stepped in front of Quinn and Jodie and raised his gun. Quinn fought the urge to turn and flee. She was frightened, but she didn’t want the others to know it. Hiding behind the goth makeup and the hood was enough to shield herself from the ordinary experiences of life, but what was happening now wasn’t something she could get away from, and it terrified her.

  She tightened her hoodie’s drawstring and took a step closer to Lewis. “They’re almost here, guys. How are we doing?”