A war raged within Bodie. The inner voice imploring him to see the whole picture was entirely correct, but the events and the way they had played out still niggled.
And the Bratva? Well, there was a long conversation with Heidi over several bottles of rum. Asking for help had never been his forte. The situation with Heidi was about as complex as it was likely to get. Feelings were running high.
Still, his best friend, Cross, was back now, and maybe they could come up with a plan between them.
“It’s like we’re in limbo,” Cassidy had said on the way here. “Hanging. But also tasked with the job of a lifetime by people we don’t like.” She had shivered. “It’s conflicting.”
And Bodie felt the same. Here they were, hunting down and stealing more high-profile relics than they ever would have dreamed — and they were doing it legally with the force and resources of the American government at their back.
Legally?
Near enough, he thought, mentally shrugging off the question. So long as criminal organizations and warlords stayed in the mix, Bodie was comfortable with all the gray areas.
He dived in to the meal, enjoying the steak. The worries melted away for just a short while. Cassidy latched on to Gunn’s earlier “fattening up” comment and ribbed him about his widening girth, which Bodie couldn’t see but Gunn took incredibly seriously. Jemma wondered aloud if there were any decent nightclubs in the area, which diverted Cassidy’s attention faster than a striking viper.
“I have an app,” she told Jemma. “It’s called Party Girl.”
The team, even Heidi, grinned.
Cross ate and drank steadily, picking at his food with a care that had earned him the title of The Perfectionist in a different lifetime, long ago. He’d once thought those days great, but had learned since they were replete with darkness, risk, and a self-loathing that threatened his existence. Some people just didn’t see when they were caught in a spiral. Cross saw it now and considered himself lucky that he’d emerged intact out the other side.
No danger to his family either. You’re a damn lucky son of a bitch.
He knew it and he kept all of that intensely quiet. The only person who knew he had a family, Bodie, had been sworn to silence. Cross was a private man, and a careful one. Only Bodie had ever been allowed in.
Heidi looked up every time the front doors opened. Bodie saw it as a feature of her trade, but she was also waiting for someone.
That someone entered a moment later, saw them, and walked with a clipped step over to their table.
“Good evening. Reporting as requested.”
Heidi got her first real-life look at Lucie Boom. In her late twenties, the blonde was tall and leggy but stood somewhat awkwardly, like a young chick unused to being upright. Her hair was scraped back into a ponytail, her expression professional and clear of emotion. In fact, the only personal element about her was a simple item of clothing.
“That’s a hell of a sweater,” Cassidy said, rubbing her eyes. “You wearing it to keep warm?”
Lucie flicked a glance at her. “It is made of wool, Miss Coleman. It should keep me warm.”
Bodie saw no sarcasm in Lucie, just straitlaced honesty. It might be fun trying to help her fit in with a band of thieves.
“You know my name?” Cassidy drawled, mouth full of food.
“I know everyone’s names, yes. I have also scanned your background checks. It pays to know who you work with. Where do you want me, Miss Moneymaker?”
Heidi was pleased Lucie knew enough not to address her as “agent” in the restaurant. “Sit here.”
“Not too close to Gunn,” Cassidy said. “He even gets a sniff of wool and he’ll be all over you.”
Heidi stepped in. “Can we move on? Listen, Lucie, I’m sorry we started without you but, hey, you are late. Can I order you anything?”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Lucie said stiffly, not acknowledging the question. “The research… absorbed me. I did get carried away. It won’t happen again.”
“Umm, no, that’s fine.” Heidi preferred her people honest and dedicated. Honest? Shit, where did I go wrong? “I’m sorry. Where are we with the statues?”
Lucie sat herself down primly on the edge of the long seat. After rearranging her white sweater and tapping on the tabletop for several beats, she looked at the new faces.
“Atlantis is a myth. It has always been a myth. Most who aren’t crackpots know that. But, for the sake of clarity and open-minded thought, can we suspend that disbelief temporarily? Just for a few weeks. Can we do that?”
She looked around earnestly, seeking an answer rather than shooting out a rhetorical question. Bodie respected her openness.
“I believe we can. After all, we recently located one of the ancient wonders thought lost to the world. There were times during that op when my faith was tested, but the results speak for themselves.”
There were nods all around. Lucie looked satisfied. “The major problem with investigating a myth is the obvious lack of information. I mean, when you guys investigated the Statue of Zeus you had a credible history to examine. Real, reliable accounts from the past. But with Atlantis we have…” She pursed her lips. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Bodie repeated. “I thought—”
“Please don’t interrupt. My thought processes are precise and, once broken, are impossible to replicate.”
Bodie blinked, then saluted. But Lucie was too focused on relaying her research to notice the sarcastic gesture.
“A real man named Solon, who was judge, lawmaker, and warrior of ancient Athens, was credited as the first man to write about Atlantis. He lived six hundred years before Christianity and was Plato’s ancestor. He learned of it from the ‘wise men of Sais,’ which was an Egyptian town in the Nile Delta. We’re talking 730 BC here now. You may not have heard of Sais, but it is famous for being the place where Osiris was buried. Sais, although Egyptian, was identified with Athens by such men as Herodotus, Diodorus, and Plato. Sais was built before the deluge that destroyed both Athens and Atlantis but, being in Egypt, it survived where the Greek cities did not.”
“When you say ‘deluge,’” Gunn interrupted, “do you mean the Great Flood?”
Lucie nodded. “Definitely, but I will come to that later. So, Solon is told the story of Atlantis when he comes to Sais. He is told how Atlantis, in its arrogance, attacked both Greece and Egypt and was later punished by the gods themselves. And in turn, today, no surviving traces of Sais exist either.”
As Lucie paused, Bodie wondered whether he should ask a question. Was she simply breathing? Was she gathering her thoughts? Was she giving them a chance to raise—
“The story of Atlantis passed from the elders of Sais to Solon and then to Plato. Yes, it was a family story. A tale to be told around the hearth, and if it wasn’t for Plato’s importance and great aptitude, it may well have been lost forever. Who else could have related it to us? Even then, it is Plato’s works, Critias and Timaeus, that immortalized Atlantis. Was it his way of preserving the legend for all time, or some sentiment, lines of prose to honor a family yarn? Any manner of reasoning can be read into Plato’s intent, as it can with all ancient texts.”
Lucie paused now and drank from the glass of water the waitress had left for Jemma. Bodie didn’t see it as intentional or malicious; the woman was just incredibly focused.
Heidi drank from her own glass. “Can I ask a question now?”
“I’ll open it up to a question-and-answer session when I’m done,” Lucie said, clearly more used to lecturing students than briefing a panel of thieves and CIA spooks. “I believe the ancient priests and scholars understood the importance of preserving history. Of giving future generations an account of past lives and civilizations. Plato begins his recount by saying it is an old-world tale from an aged man. Passed down from grandfather to father and so on. The description of Atlantis begins when Plato described the greatest action the Athenians ever did. The ancient priest in the story is actually describing the greatness of Athens itself, its incomparable eminence, when there comes a threat from across the sea. It states that the Atlantic was navigable over nine thousand years ago — remember that fact — and that Atlantis was situated in front of the strait called the Columns of Hercules. It was incredibly vast, and its people sought to conquer the eastern lands with one devastating blow. Athens eventually overpowered these armies, and then the deluge came and broke the land. Nothing remained. As for the Atlanteans — well, it was told that the gods received whole segments of the earth as their own and Atlantis was the allotment given to Poseidon. Atlantis was divided into ten portions, and the eldest man, the king of kings, for Atlantis had many, was named Atlas. The kings are described as flawed rulers, with absolute control over the life and death of their subjects, reveling in debauchery and riches, and when Zeus saw that base human nature had climbed to ascendancy over majesty, he stepped in and wiped them from the face of the earth. Now, the entire country was mountainous, with towering pinnacles rising toward the skies. Perhaps they might now peek above the surface? Of course, we have a rather thin veneer of research here, and I have already more than scratched it.”