The crack of a thunderbolt split the air behind him. He glanced back in fear . . .
Another flash, so intense that the Minoan’s eyes seared in their sockets – then he, Kora, the golden sphere and the island of Kameni ceased to exist.
An explosion utterly annihilated everything within two miles, a fireball a thousand times brighter than the sun flashing the sea into steam. The volcano’s peak was blown away . . .
Unleashing a still more powerful force.
Deep beneath Kameni was a vast magma chamber, the isle merely the visible tip of a much bigger massif beneath the sea. The sudden release of pressure as its cap was ripped open triggered a colossal volcanic eruption. Ash and toxic smoke and lava blasted skywards, waves over a hundred metres high pounding the island chain and obliterating all traces of human settlement along the inner coastline.
Even greater waves raced outwards from the ring’s far side, sweeping north through the Aegean to hammer the shores of Greece and Turkey, and south across the Mediterranean to swamp the mouth of the Nile. But it was the island of Crete, home to the Minoan civilisation, that was doomed to suffer the most damage. The entire northern coast was drowned by a tsunami, a wall of water destroying everything for miles inland.
Those who survived the deluge suffered a slower but no less terrible fate. The sheer amount of airborne ash blotted out the sun for days and affected temperatures worldwide for years afterwards, winters that were normally hard turning lethal. The remaining Minoans lived on, absorbed into other civilisations as refugees, but as a powerful seagoing empire, their time was over.
The evacuation of the Theran islands meant there was nobody to serve as witness. Without anyone to hand down the story, the eruption passed into myth with surprising swiftness. A record of flooding in Egypt, tales of earthquakes in Greece, accounts of failed crops from as far away as China would be all that remained. Even those few settlements on Thera that survived the tidal waves were buried by falling ash, reduced to silent, empty time capsules that would remain lost for millennia.
Forgotten . . . like the strange vault buried on the hill, and its deadly secret.
And the knowledge that it was not the only one.
1
The Mediterranean Sea
Present Day
‘That,’ said Eddie Chase, ‘is a bloody big boat.’
His wife, Nina Wilde, gazed from the descending helicopter’s window. ‘You are absolutely not kidding.’
What lay before them was less a vessel, more a floating city. The cruise liner Atlantia was a great white-and-gold block of steel and glass, dwarfing the other ships Nina had seen during their flight from Malaga in southern Spain.
Their daughter, Macy, pressed her face excitedly against her own window. ‘Wow, Mom! It’s massive! Are we really going to land on it?’
‘Bit of a wasted journey if we aren’t,’ said Eddie. He got an eye roll in return; even at seven years old, Macy was well used to the bald Englishman’s drily sarcastic sense of humour.
The remaining passenger was Nina’s grandmother, Olivia Garde. ‘The helipad looks rather small. I hope that’s just because the ship is so big.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Garde,’ said the pilot. ‘We do these landings all the time – I flew another VIP in earlier today, actually. And the pad’s more than big enough for this bird.’
He hovered the Airbus H155 above the ship’s bow, lowering the landing gear and easing it on to the helipad. Macy squealed as it bumped to a stop. Crewmen hurried over, ducking beneath the whirling rotor blades to secure steel cables to the aircraft. The lines were quickly ratcheted tight, locking the helicopter firmly in place.
Nina looked across at the superstructure’s sloping front. More people waited in a doorway. ‘Looks like we’ve got a reception committee.’
‘I would certainly hope so,’ said Olivia. ‘You are the guest of honour, after all.’
‘They’re probably only here for Nina,’ Eddie retorted. ‘The rest of us have to go in through steerage. Still, at least we’ll be able to do some dancing.’
The red-haired New Yorker wagged a finger at her husband. ‘Remember what we said about Titanic jokes?’
‘What, “don’t tell any”?’
‘Yep.’
‘Come on, we’re right at the front! I’ve at least got to go “I’m the king of the woooorld!”’
‘No, you don’t. You really, really don’t.’
‘If I can’t do Titanic jokes, I’m going to do Speed 2 ones instead,’ the Yorkshireman muttered. Outside, two men in crisp white uniforms jogged to the helicopter. ‘Ay up, here they come.’
The new arrivals opened the doors and helped the passengers out. ‘Welcome to the Atlantia, Dr Wilde,’ said the older man, an imposing, craggy-faced American with white hair. ‘I’m Arnold Snowcock, the captain.’
‘Thank you,’ Nina replied. ‘I wasn’t expecting the captain to meet us right off our flight!’
‘You’re a very special guest.’ He shook her hand, then greeted the others.
‘Nice boat you’ve got here,’ said Eddie.
‘Thank you. Although it’s a ship, not a boat.’ Snowcock’s brow revealed a faint furrow of impatience, suggesting he was very particular about correct nautical terminology. ‘If you’ll come inside, Mr Moretti and his men will bring in your baggage.’
The visitors quickly made their way to the open door. Snowcock offered to assist Olivia, the nonagenarian walking with a cane, but she waved him away.
They entered the ship, a sign telling them they were on Deck 8. The reception area resembled that of a top-end hotel, the liner’s owner wanting to create a splendid first impression. Nina found the gilded decor too gaudy for her tastes, but she kept this to herself, since said owner was there to greet her.
The Emir of Dhajan, ruler of a small but wealthy emirate in the Persian Gulf, had invited her personally to join the Atlantia’s maiden voyage. He was surrounded by an entourage, standing out from his traditionally robed male companions by being the only one wearing a suit. He was several years younger than Nina, she knew, in his mid thirties, but in the half-decade since taking the throne had thrown his country full-speed into a programme of modernisation that had transformed it from an oil-rich backwater into a hub for tourism and finance with aspirations to rival Dubai and Bahrain.
‘Dr Wilde!’ he said with a broad white smile. ‘Welcome aboard the Atlantia. I am delighted to meet you.’ His English was perfect, with undertones of an expensive Western education.
Snowcock handled the introductions. ‘Dr Wilde, Mr Chase, Mrs Garde . . . and Ms Wilde Chase,’ he added, winking at Macy, ‘this is His Majesty Sheikh Fadil bin A’zam, the Emir of Dhajan – and the Atlantia’s owner, so also my boss.’ He chuckled, the Emir giving a little laugh in return. ‘Your Majesty, your guest of honour, Dr Nina Wilde.’
Nina shook the Emir’s hand. ‘It’s an honour to meet you.’
‘The honour is all mine,’ he replied. ‘To meet the discoverer of Atlantis, the Pyramid of Osiris, the Ark of the Covenant . . . incredible finds. And I am sure you will find many more such wonders.’
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But I’ve got other priorities now.’
He raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention to Eddie. ‘And Mr Chase – the saviour of Mecca.’
‘Just doing my job,’ said Eddie, shaking hands. Several years earlier, he had prevented a deadly chemical attack on the Hajj, the very centre of the Islamic faith in Saudi Arabia.
‘There is no need to be modest. Every Muslim owes you a great debt.’
There was one woman amongst the Emir’s companions, wearing a long dress of royal-blue silk and a matching headscarf covering her hair. ‘You also saved your own country,’ she observed. ‘Even if you did not save Big Ben.’
Nina saw her husband hide his discomfort at the reminder of what he still considered a failure on his part. The couple had two years previously uncovered a plot by a rogue MI6 agent to bring about a coup in Brita
in by destroying Parliament; though their actions exposed the conspirators and warned of the impending attack in time to save many lives, Eddie had been unable to stop it from being carried out – and as a result, the iconic London clock tower had collapsed, killing hundreds.
‘Been doing your research, have you?’ he said.
‘His Majesty’s security is my responsibility,’ the woman replied. ‘Nobody meets him without having been thoroughly checked.’
The Emir quickly smoothed the awkward moment. ‘This is my sister, Her Royal Highness the Sheikha Alula bint A’zam, princess of Dhajan.’
‘Your sister?’ said Nina. She had assumed the woman was his wife, but now realised they had very similar features. Twins?
‘And also my minister of state security. A position I assure you she gained through merit, not nepotism. I believe in equality for all, men and women – before I took the throne, women in my country were not even allowed to hold political office – but also I believe in fairness to all. A person should prove they are the best for the job before they take it, no?’
From the fleeting look Alula gave her brother, Nina guessed that no such requirements were placed on the job of emir. But there was no time to reflect on the emirate’s internal politics as its leader pressed on with the introductions. The redhead responded in kind. ‘This is my grandmother, Olivia Garde, and my daughter, Macy.’
The Emir crouched to greet Macy. ‘Hello! And how are you?’
‘I’m very well, thank you,’ she replied politely. ‘I made you a present.’
‘You did?’ he said, with exaggerated surprise. ‘Why, thank you! What is it?’
She produced a small gift-wrapped object. The Emir took it. Alula watched with wary disapproval – handing unvetted items to the monarch was doubtless a security breach, Nina thought – but Fadil himself was unconcerned, peeling away the paper. ‘This is beautiful,’ he exclaimed. It was a little photo album, thick covers protecting photographs pasted to the card pages.
‘These are pictures of the best places to visit in America,’ Macy explained.
The Emir smiled, leafing through it. ‘The Statue of Liberty, the Empire State Building . . . are they all in New York?’
‘Well, it is the best place in America!’ she said proudly.
He straightened, slipping the book inside his jacket pocket. ‘Then I shall make sure I visit. Thank you, Macy. I’m certain I will find this very useful.’
‘My mom helped me make it,’ Macy added proudly.
‘We’ve been practising crafting,’ said Nina, smiling.
‘You have taught her very well,’ said Fadil.
Macy looked around. ‘Is this whole ship yours? You must be really rich!’
‘Macy,’ her mother chided.
The Emir laughed, unconcerned. ‘My country is rich, Macy. I merely decide where the money is spent. We built this ship, and its sister, the Pacifia, to encourage tourists to come to Dhajan. We want to give them a very warm welcome, and show them a good time. Which,’ he continued, ‘I will do when I give you a tour. But first, I will have you shown to your cabins. You have the VIP suites, the best on the ship.’
Snowcock signalled to a woman in a white jacket. ‘This is your personal steward, Ana,’ he said. ‘She’ll attend to absolutely anything you need. You’ll all get special wristbands with a call button. Wherever you are on the ship, if you press the button, Ana or one of the other stewards will be with you as soon as they can.’
‘I’m here to help,’ said Ana. She was in her mid thirties, olive-skinned with short black hair, and Nina placed her accent as Brazilian. A name tag on her lapel gave her surname as Rijo. ‘If you’ll follow me, I’ll get your wristbands and take you to your suites.’
‘VIP suites?’ said Eddie. ‘Sounds good. Definitely a cut above steer—’
‘No Titanic jokes,’ Nina interjected.
‘Tchah! Well, so long as there isn’t a bloke with a bath full of leeches next door, I’ll be happy.’
‘What?’
‘Speed 2.’
‘What’s Speed 2, Mom?’ asked Macy.
‘A bad old movie that nobody but your father remembers,’ Nina told her. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us aboard, Your Majesty.’
‘As I said, it is my honour,’ Fadil replied. ‘I look forward to your lecture. Perhaps you would give me a private viewing of the Atlantis exhibition beforehand?’
‘I’d love to,’ she said.
He bowed his head. ‘Then I shall see you again once you are settled.’
‘Please, follow me,’ said Ana.
She led the way to the exit. Nina took Macy’s hand, Eddie and Olivia behind as they headed into the vast vessel.
‘Look at this!’ Macy whooped, leaping on to the huge double bed. ‘It’s bigger than my whole room!’
‘I don’t think it’s quite that big,’ said Nina. Their suite was far larger than she had expected, though, VIPs aboard the Atlantia being given the luxury of space. ‘And stop jumping on our bed! You’ve got the single, over there.’
‘Aw, Mom!’
‘The balcony’s a decent size an’ all,’ said Eddie, opening a sliding glass door. A stiff breeze hit him; the ship had resumed its course, heading west. The suite was on the starboard side, overlooking the Spanish coast. Stepping out, he found that the curved balcony extended out from the superstructure’s vertical side, giving him a panoramic view of both the coast and the ship itself. He looked down. They were ten decks up, the sea a good hundred feet below.
Nina joined him. ‘Ooh. Long drop.’
‘Yeah. Let’s hope we don’t need those.’ He pointed astern. Five levels down, large orange lifeboats were lined up within a recess in the ship’s hull.
The starboard wing bridge jutted out several decks above, but the view ahead was otherwise unbroken. Off in the distance he could see the Rock of Gibraltar, a great dark hump at the end of a peninsula. Beyond it was Tarifa, at the southernmost tip of mainland Spain, and past that the Gulf of Cadiz, the entrance to the Atlantic – where Nina had first discovered the submerged remains of the lost civilisation of Atlantis. ‘Can’t bloody stay away, can we?’ he said.
Nina gave him a quizzical look. ‘Hmm?’
‘Atlantis. How many times have we been back there now?’
‘I kinda lost count,’ she said, amused. ‘Don’t worry, though – at least we don’t have to dive eight hundred feet down this time.’
‘Good. I’m getting too old for that.’
‘Forty-seven is the new twenty-seven, or so I heard,’ she said brightly. He made an appalled face. She grinned and went back inside, Eddie following. Their steward, who at Nina’s request had attended to Olivia in the neighbouring cabin first, was now unpacking their belongings. ‘Oh, Ana. I said you don’t need to do that.’
‘That’s okay, it’s my job,’ Ana replied with a smile. ‘You’re a VIP passenger. You don’t have to lift a finger while you’re aboard.’
‘If we need you, we’ll call you with this,’ Nina insisted, indicating the gold plastic wristband she was now wearing. She knew from a demonstration when they had first been logged into the ship’s computers as guests that pressing a button on the band pinpointed her location to within a few feet.
‘She just doesn’t want you going through her pants,’ said Eddie. ‘Especially not the sexy ones.’
The redhead was not amused. ‘Eddie! I will throw you overboard if I have to.’
Ana tried to hide a smile. ‘Whatever you say. But remember, if you do need me . . .’
‘We’ll call you, don’t worry,’ said Nina. ‘Thank you anyway.’
The Brazilian nodded, then exited. Nina followed her into the lounge, then knocked on the door to the adjoining suite. ‘Olivia! Everything okay in there?’
Her grandmother opened it. ‘Oh, yes. I’ve been on liners before – proper ocean liners, mind, not these floating vacation resorts – and this is by far the biggest cabin I’ve ever had. There are definite advantages
to being a VIP guest of the ship’s owner.’
A telephone by Eddie and Nina’s bed rang. Eddie picked it up and had a brief exchange with the caller before joining the two women. ‘That was Captain Snowcock – Snowcock, what kind of a name is that?’
‘The kind you’re not going to make fun of in front of him. Or Macy,’ said Nina.
‘As if! Anyway, the Emir wants to give us a tour of the ship in an hour, before we have dinner.’
Nina put on a faux-Valley Girl voice. ‘But I have to do my haaaair!’ She reached up and pulled a hairband from her ponytail, letting her red locks fall below her shoulders. ‘Okay, done.’
‘Me too.’ Eddie rubbed a hand over his shaved head.
‘In that case,’ said Olivia, ‘I’ll see you in fifty-nine minutes.’ She closed the door.
‘So,’ said Nina, ‘what do we wear for dinner with a king?’
2
‘Wow,’ Nina said to Eddie, smiling. ‘You’re almost presentable.’
The Yorkshireman had exchanged his leather jacket and jeans for a suit, but despite looking smart, he was not comfortable. ‘Too much starch in this shirt,’ he complained, fingering his collar. ‘Like being back in bloody uniform.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ she assured him. Her own outfit was a stylish black dress rather than her usual trousers. ‘Now, do I wear heels or slip-ons? We’re about to do a lot of walking . . .’
‘Wear the heels and bring the other pair just in case,’ Eddie suggested. ‘Or call Ana to bring ’em if your feet start hurting.’
‘I still don’t feel comfortable about having someone jump every time I call. I guess I’m not cut out to be a queen.’
‘I’d like to be a queen,’ Macy proclaimed, striding into the room in a dress of her own. ‘I’d have a crown, and a sceptre, and . . .’ She tried to think of another royal accoutrement. ‘And a special crown for weekends,’ she decided.
‘This is what we get for letting her watch all those Disney princess shows,’ said Eddie.
‘Better than those movies based on us,’ Nina complained. ‘I still can’t believe you let her see them. They’re PG-13, and she’s seven!’
The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14) Page 2