Here, now, immersed in this stream, surrounded by fire—I’m where I should be. It feels right.
The flames died away; the debris stopped falling, at least for now. Bodie rose from the stream, expecting anything. The sight that met his eyes was a sobering one.
Zeus’s burning body, dead and sitting on its knees, now deceased to protect a birthright, having remained loyal to the colleagues who had perished before him. The corpse’s muscles had contracted in the fire, and now the limbs appeared to be clawing at Bodie in a defensive posture.
Bodie then stared beyond the nightmarish image of Zeus to the wall they had traveled so far to see. He couldn’t help but step forward, feet dragging through sodden timbers and still flickering remnants. The barrels Zeus had positioned beside the frieze had done most of their work, destroying a good portion of the detail on the outer rock face, but not all. Bodie could see three upraised arms, constellations scattering from them like celestial spray. A faint line joined several constellations, the path to Atlantis. Ares’s head was still intact, as well as portions of the gods’ bodies. Even as he watched, Bodie saw a part of the ancient depiction crumble away.
“Madman,” Hakim growled.
“The world is full of them,” Bodie agreed. “Is everyone okay?”
The only grumbling came from Gunn, whose leg now throbbed despite the medic’s earlier attentions, and Cassidy, who claimed she’d swallowed half the stream. They took a few moments to photograph what remained and check the cave for more petroglyphs or hidden passageways. The Bratva verified that their exit tunnel was intact, and then they were heading back up to the surface, evidence in hand, aware that they now possessed a potential map to the lost city of Atlantis and all the ancient knowledge and wonders it might yet contain.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Two Sikorsky helicopters thundered through the dawn, rotors black against the rising blush of daylight. Beneath, the enormous breadth of the Atlantic Ocean rolled and swelled, dangerous waters as far as the eye could see.
The only speck on the horizon grew larger as they came nearer — a battered research vessel called the RV Philias out of Greece, which had been retasked and directed to a particular set of coordinates.
Lucie had followed the celestial map that outlined the Dolphin Ridge, which the US ship Challenger had mapped out many years before. Using deep-sea sounding, the Challenger found an Atlantic plateau rising nine thousand feet above the incredible depths around it. When this plateau proved to be one thousand miles in width and three thousand miles long, the community still did not recognize this Atlantis-shaped, immersed land right where Plato said it would be. Within this elevated ridge lay several trenches, some deep, some narrow. The celestial map pointed them toward something called the Atlantean Trench.
Follow the coordinates, Bodie thought. That was all they had to do. Lucie had put to bed any further skepticism by finding an assertion in Scientific American that the mountains and valleys of the plateau’s surface could not have been formed underwater but had to have been fashioned by elements scouring the land above water. And to explain the travel of plants, animals, and races between continents, connecting ridges were found, whereupon great journeys between continents could be made.
All of this was moot to Bodie, and to most of the rest of the team. And in particular, the Bratva. Zeus and his cronies had already persuaded them that something existed. All they had to do now was find it.
Bodie surveyed the seas and the skies. As clear as a mirrored surface. Such tranquility did not lull him into dropping his guard, and he noticed Cassidy scanning the terrain too. Despite the fact that the Bratva were with them, it was perfectly possible for another enemy to appear — more Chinese, or perhaps some new foe whose curiosity had been piqued by the discovery of the statues.
Bodie didn’t trust the Bratva’s intentions. Yasmine and Hakim had their own agenda, and Atlantis was understandably not their priority. A reckoning was definitely coming, especially as Bodie didn’t remember Viktor Davydov being agreeable in any way. Then there was the mysterious Lucien, the big boss, who apparently knew about Yasmine’s infiltration and was helping her.
The research ship’s impressive size became more apparent as the choppers glided toward it. The landing was hard, skids bouncing multiple times off the metal deck. After disembarking, Bodie found the ship’s captain and some of the crew gathered at the side, staring suspiciously at them. The wind bit strongly, sharp and cold and unwarmed by the blossoming sun.
“The vessel is ready,” someone said with a heavy accent. “You follow me.”
The “vessel” turned out to be a submersible, an odd hunk of metal that looked even older and more battered than the ship. The team eyed it suspiciously.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Cassidy grumbled.
“How far down are we going in this thing?” Gunn asked.
A man came up to them, short, stocky, and with a face seemingly carved by the wildest winds. “My name is Alec, and I am the pilot,” he said in practiced English. “We have been told to assist you. But this is my vessel, my baby. Yes, it is old. Yes, it is fragile. So you treat her with respect because, believe me, you really do not want to break her.”
“Understood.” Heidi came forward and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “How many can she hold?”
Alec didn’t even acknowledge the hand. “Listen to me. There are no parachutes. No flight attendants. Just one captain. We put a foot wrong down there and we die. You may have your mission,” he said, shaking his head, “but that does not mean you are in charge.”
“We get it,” Heidi shot back. “You don’t like us being here. You don’t like us commandeering your boat. Tough. Get over it. And don’t worry, I have no intention of overriding an expert in his own field.”
Alec, looking somewhat mollified, gestured for them to follow along the ship’s top rail. Bodie fell in line, ignoring the crew and heading toward the submersible, a dirty, great oblong bulk of metal and tubes. Alec paused, staring over their heads at the ship’s captain.
“Anything?”
Bodie heard a negative answer. Maybe they were appealing to call it off. He wondered if they should at least explain their mission to the pilot. The boat rolled and creaked; the submersible reverberated even standing still. Heidi ignored the wind as it whipped ineffectually at her curls.
“Problem?”
Alec glared at her. “No. No problem. But I need to know which three are coming, and what you are looking for.”
Heidi shook her head. “Not a chance, man. But I do know who will accompany you.”
Bodie couldn’t help feeling an icy thrill as she spoke his name along with Cassidy’s and Jemma’s. He waited a beat, then reached out a hand to Heidi’s shoulder.
“You’re staying behind?”
Heidi grinned. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m staying behind. The Devil himself wouldn’t get me inside that deathtrap.”
“Ah, thanks.” Bodie nodded. “We’re expendable, you’re not. Good pep talk.”
“It is one of my fortes.”
“This arrangement between us,” he said. “It ends very soon.”
Bodie followed instructions all the way. They climbed a ladder and lowered themselves through a circular hatch, then descended into the bowels of the submersible. Inside it was nothing but clinical, all metal shelves and computer screens, large buttons and ribbons of wire. Bodie was extremely cautious, aware that he couldn’t break anything. The pilot’s own pep talk had served its purpose.