‘Sure,’ Nina said. She lifted her daughter.
‘Now, look at this,’ said the Emir. The panel lit up as his hand neared it, displaying a keypad. Nina watched as he carefully tapped in a six-digit code: 0-3-2-0-1-5. March 2015? She wondered if it was an important date to him. It certainly was to her; it was the month Macy was born.
The keypad flashed in acceptance, then disappeared. A new window popped up, Arabic text followed by its equivalent in English – Owner’s Code Accepted.
The Emir brought up a new window. A tap at a digital toggle switch, and a message appeared: Speed Limiter Disengaged. His grin broadened. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘Captain, if you would take us to . . . thirty knots?’
Snowcock looked surprised by the command, but took the azipod controls and pushed the throttles forward. ‘Twenty-four knots, twenty-five . . . twenty-six?’ He glanced at the Dhajani leader, who nodded to tell him to continue.
‘It’s not meant to go that fast?’ asked Nina.
‘It would appear this ship has some tricks even I didn’t know about.’ The captain sounded unsettled by the discovery.
‘Well, we’ve just hit thirty knots,’ Eddie noted.
‘Shall we go faster?’ the Emir asked Macy. Her reply was inevitably in the affirmative.
‘Your Majesty, I’d advise against it,’ said Snowcock, obviously deeply uncomfortable. ‘We’re in a major shipping lane—’
‘Just for one minute, Captain,’ the Emir told him. Despite the lightness of his tone, it was unmistakably a command. ‘We are not in danger of a collision, are we?’
Snowcock glanced towards an officer at a radar screen, who shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
‘Then let us see what she can do.’
The captain’s lips tightened, but he pushed the throttles further open. The speed display rose, thirty-two knots, thirty-three, thirty-four . . .
‘There is a trophy,’ said the Emir, ‘the Blue Riband, given to the fastest liner to cross the Atlantic. It has not been challenged for seventy years, but the last ship to win it, an American vessel, managed an average speed of thirty-five knots. I would very much like to claim that prize for Dhajan!’
‘I don’t think you’ll have any trouble,’ said Nina. The display approached forty knots.
‘Your Majesty,’ said Snowcock firmly, his eyes on another screen showing coloured bars – several of which were creeping upwards, shifting from green through yellow towards orange. ‘I strongly recommend that we return to normal cruising speed. ‘We don’t want to risk redlining the drive systems, certainly not on our maiden voyage.’
‘Oh . . . very well,’ said the Emir, disappointed.
Snowcock immediately pulled the throttle back, the speed indicator and the bars falling. The Arab re-entered his code. A new message popped up: Owner Logged Out. ‘I guess being ruler of a whole country has its perks,’ said Nina.
‘I never have to wait at traffic lights in Dhajan either,’ the Emir said. ‘So, Macy, were you impressed by how fast we can go?’
Macy glanced at her mother before answering, as if worried about giving offence. ‘It . . . didn’t feel any different.’
He laughed. ‘Then the ship is very well designed! Now,’ he said, turning to his visitors, ‘our meal will soon be ready. I have some business I must attend to first, but Ana will escort you to the royal dining room. I shall meet you there.’ He gave his guests a small bow, his expression boyishly proud. ‘I hope the Atlantia met your expectations.’
‘It’s very impressive, yes,’ Nina assured him.
‘Like a five-star hotel, except on water,’ Eddie added.
‘Only five stars? We must work harder. Perhaps dinner will win us an extra star!’ The Emir addressed Macy. ‘And did you like my ship?’
She nodded. ‘I did. It’s very cool. And very huge.’
‘And what part of it did you like the most?’
Her eyes flicked to the box she was holding. ‘The toy shop?’
‘Sorry,’ said Nina, wincing.
He straightened, amused. ‘There is no need to apologise. Often, when dealing with the ruler of a nation, people can be . . . circuitous. But children let you know their true feelings.’
‘Do you have children yourself?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I hope to. But bringing an entire country into the future is all-consuming. I have not even had the chance to find a wife, never mind devote the time I would need to a child. I could have married for political convenience and handed over all my responsibilities as a parent to someone else, but . . . what kind of a man would I be? What example would I set for my children – and my country?’
‘I hope you find the time,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s definitely worth it. Even if,’ he tapped Macy’s toy, ‘you end up buying a ton of rubbish you don’t need.’
‘Oh, so can I finally throw out your Fidel Castro cigar box?’ Nina asked hopefully. ‘Thank you so much for the tour, Your Majesty. I’m sure dinner will be just as good.’
‘And I am sure your lecture on Atlantis will be most enlightening,’ the Emir replied.
Ana led the family from the bridge. ‘The royal dining room is on Deck 14, at the stern,’ she said. ‘But I can call for a golf cart if you don’t want to walk the whole length of the ship.’
‘Olivia, you want one?’ Eddie asked.
‘I’ll be fine,’ the old lady insisted. ‘The day I can’t walk a block and a half is the day I give up the ghost.’
Nina gave her grandmother a concerned look, but to her relief Olivia did indeed seem to be managing the trek perfectly well – if anything, better than she was herself, her feet starting to hurt in the high heels.
They took the lift down several decks. ‘Ooh, look at this!’ cried Macy, hurrying into the lobby. At its centre was a large circular display case, inside which was a slowly revolving representation of the Atlantia – but it was not a model. ‘It’s a hologram!’
‘That’s pretty impressive,’ said Nina. She had seen holographic displays that could be viewed from any angle before, but this was a step up in image quality.
‘I think there are four or five of them aboard,’ said Ana. ‘It shows you how to find anywhere on the ship.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Probably cost half a million quid to do the same job as a bit of card with a map on it.’
Macy was already playing with a touchscreen. The computer-generated ship peeled open to reveal its interior. ‘Mom, they’ve got a nail parlour . . . and a bowling alley . . . and a marina, look!’ She pointed at the Atlantia’s stern, where a water-level dock extended from a giant hatch. ‘You can even see the jetskis! Can we ride them?’
‘I think you’re too young,’ said Nina. She didn’t know if that were true, but fervently hoped it was.
‘Show us where we’re going,’ suggested Eddie. Macy did so. The royal dining room was on a cross-deck high over the stern. ‘It’s bloody miles away! You sure you don’t want a golf cart, Olivia? ’Cause I’m considering it myself.’
‘If you do . . .’ suggested Ana.
‘We’re okay, thanks,’ Nina told her. ‘Come on. The walk should help our appetites, if nothing else!’
‘I want to ride a golf cart,’ grumbled Macy.
They headed aft through the ship’s long corridors, along the way traversing a lounge area with another giant ultrahigh-definition screen. A tall Middle Eastern man in his early forties stood there, seemingly entranced by the reality of the three-dimensional display. The group passed him without so much as a second glance.
The hard-faced man waited for the VIP guests to retreat, then surreptitiously checked that nobody was nearby before moving to a planter. He slipped a cylindrical metal object from a pocket and carefully placed it beneath the leaves, then touched a finger to a small earpiece. ‘This is al-Asim,’ he whispered in Arabic. ‘My bombs are in place. Everyone, report your status.’
He waited for the replies. All met his approval.
‘Good. Return to your cabins and w
ait for the go signal. Our target is here.’ He glanced after the departed group. ‘Nina Wilde is aboard.’
3
Even by the Atlantia’s standards, the royal dining room was opulent, a chamber of marble and gold with a glass wall overlooking the liner’s stern and the Mediterranean beyond. Ana introduced Nina to the other waiting guest. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard of Gideon Lobato.’
‘I have indeed,’ said Nina. ‘It’s good to meet you, Mr Lobato.’
The gaunt man, his dark hair shaved down to a stubble, regarded her outstretched hand from behind his little round spectacles as if she had presented him with a rotting fish, hesitating before weakly shaking it. ‘Dr Wilde,’ he said. ‘An honour.’ Nina knew he was a naturalised American citizen, but he had a distinct accent: Turkish, she guessed. ‘I am a great admirer of your work, specifically on the discovery of Atlantis. Fascinating.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
He withdrew his hand, then, without the slightest concern that she might be offended, took out an antiseptic wipe and cleaned it. ‘Regrettably, I am not able to attend your lecture tonight. But I hope you will answer some of my questions during dinner.’
‘I’d be delighted.’ The white-clad billionaire’s gaze alternated between avoiding hers and then locking on to her eyes with unnerving intensity. She got the impression he was well along the autism spectrum – which perhaps contributed to the unwavering focus that had made him a very rich man.
‘And they must be your family?’
‘They must,’ said Eddie. He extended his hand, but Lobato’s attention had already moved on as Alula and Snowcock entered.
‘The Emir will join us soon,’ Alula announced. She took a seat.
‘If you please?’ said the captain, gesturing for those still standing to join her. Ana quietly departed as Nina and her family took their places.
‘Obnoxious arriviste,’ muttered Olivia.
‘Who?’ Nina asked.
‘Gideon. I’ve met him before, at events in New York and Boston, but he completely ignored me just now. He makes a big deal out of supporting the arts, but I doubt he could appreciate the difference between a Caravaggio and a child’s crayon drawing. No offence to Macy, of course.’
Macy herself was talking to Lobato. ‘I’ve seen you on television! Are you famous?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I am a pioneer.’
‘Oh, like an explorer? Like my mom?’
‘In the sense that I am exploring the limits of possibility. I create products that humanity needs, even if they do not know it yet.’ Coming from anyone else it would have seemed a shamelessly self-aggrandising sales pitch, but Nina had no doubt he fully believed it.
‘Didn’t you start out making video games?’ asked Eddie.
The question was asked with a hint of sarcasm, which Lobato chose to ignore – or failed to detect. ‘Realms of Warfyre was my biggest success, yes. Did you play it?’
‘No, I was in a real war once. Didn’t see much point in mucking around with elves and goblins.’
‘Ah, yes. You were in the SAS, I believe.’
Eddie snorted. ‘Seems like everybody’s been googling me today.’
‘Knowledge and preparation are the key to success. But selling my company gave me enough money to pursue my true interests.’
‘Are you very rich?’ Macy asked.
Nina tutted. ‘Macy, it’s rude to ask people things like that.’
Lobato, however, treated the question literally. ‘Yes, I am. The sale was for one point two billion dollars, and since then I have made a lot more.’
The young girl regarded him with sudden caution. ‘Are you evil?’
For the first time, his mask of Vulcan implacability cracked. ‘Why would you say that?’ he said, surprised and slightly affronted.
‘My mom and dad have met lots of billionaires. They said they always turn out to be evil!’
Nina and Eddie exchanged looks. ‘’Fraid so,’ the Yorkshireman said. ‘Kristian Frost, Richard Yuen, Rene Corvus, Pramesh Khoil, a whole bunch who called themselves “the Group” . . . and more; I’ve lost count.’
‘I can assure you I am not evil,’ Lobato said stiffly. ‘My goal is to make the world a better place.’
‘Which you are doing, my friend!’ said the Emir cheerfully as he entered. Everyone stood. ‘Please, please, sit.’ He took his place at the head of the table. ‘Gideon is my partner on a huge solar power project. It will supply all Dhajan’s energy needs, and far more besides. We will soon sell electricity just as we sell oil.’ He addressed Nina. ‘As I told you, my country needs to diversify before our oil reserves finally run out.’
‘Clean energy is the future,’ said Lobato. ‘It has to be; it is the only way we will survive as a species. I have started up new disruptive businesses in solar power, battery production, electric cars, tidal generators, even blue-sky ideas like orbital electrodynamic tethers. People thought I was a fool, throwing my fortune away on dreams. But my dreams are now coming true – and I am richer than my critics. So we will see who is really the fool.’
‘It is not you, Gideon,’ the Emir assured him. ‘Now, my chef has prepared a magnificent selection of dishes. It would be a shame to keep him waiting.’
The food lived up to its billing. ‘Got to say, this is probably the best salmon I’ve ever had,’ Eddie announced.
‘Thank you,’ said the Emir. ‘What do you think of yours, Macy?’
The young redhead had gone for a vegetarian option. ‘It’s really yummy! I didn’t think I’d like it, because it’s got these weird bits on, but they’re nice.’
‘We’re trying to expand her palate,’ said Nina. ‘One step at a time, but we’re getting there.’
She was about to continue with her own delicious meal when Lobato leaned towards her. ‘Dr Wilde, I was fascinated by one of your recent proposals about Atlantis. May I ask you more about it?’
‘Sure,’ she said, nodding.
‘Your theory that the ancient Atlanteans either created or discovered a means to trap and store particles of antimatter; do you really believe they had such a capability?’
Nina groaned inwardly. There were many other aspects of her work she would rather have discussed; most of them, in fact. ‘It’s not so much a theory as a suggestion based on the available data,’ she said. ‘Do I actually believe it myself? I’d have to say . . . not really.’
‘But it was your idea in the first place.’
‘It was one avenue of possibility, sure – I’ve discovered several things that went beyond conventional science. Earth energy, for example. King Arthur’s sword Excalibur could channel the planet’s natural energy field to cut through almost anything, and I discovered several Atlantean artefacts that also used it to extraordinary effect. I’ve seen an ancient statue levitate across a room after being charged up by it.’
‘But only in the hands of people with a particular genetic profile of Atlantean descent, correct?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘People such as yourself.’
She became uncomfortable. There was now no avoidance of direct eye contact; his unblinking gaze was fixed upon her. ‘Yeah, but that’s not exactly something I’ve shouted from the rooftops.’ Eddie subtly shifted position at the change in the conversation’s tone, ready to come to her defence – physically if necessary.
But Lobato shook his head dismissively. ‘Earth energy is not an avenue of research I have pursued. The need for a human element makes it impractical as a power source. No, I am specifically interested in antimatter.’
‘Antimatter?’ asked Macy, mouth full.
Nina was about to explain when the Emir beat her to it. ‘The opposite of normal matter,’ he said. ‘If matter and antimatter touch, they are both instantly annihilated in a total conversion of matter to energy. Einstein’s formula E=mc2 tells us how much energy, E, is explosively released, where m is the total mass of both matter and antimatter, multiplied by a constant, c, t
he speed of light, squared.’
‘Thank you,’ said Nina, surprised by the ruler’s knowledge.
Fadil smiled. ‘Gideon has shared his interests with me.’
‘Personally,’ said Eddie with a smirk of his own as he relaxed, ‘I think of the world as made up of matter and doesn’t matter.’ Even Macy groaned.
‘My interest in antimatter,’ Lobato said with an impatient edge, ‘is for its potential to provide the world with unlimited energy – and even propel us beyond it.’
‘Been watching Star Trek, then?’ Eddie remarked.
‘Yes,’ came the matter-of-fact reply. ‘Since I first arrived in America in 1991. But I have always been interested in science, fact as well as fiction. So the theory about the Atlanteans being able to capture antimatter intrigued me.’
‘Again, it’s not really a theory,’ Nina insisted. ‘I certainly wouldn’t author a scientific paper proposing it. Like I said, I don’t really believe it myself – and certainly no other archaeologist does! It was more a thought experiment; practically sci-fi.’
‘Science fiction often predicts the future,’ said Lobato. ‘Or even shapes it.’ He took out a smartphone. ‘Without Star Trek, and other supposed flights of fancy, would we have these as we now know them? They inspired the engineers down new pathways of possibility. And you have done the same yourself.’
‘Hardly,’ Nina countered. ‘I just came up with a possible explanation – but the whole thing might be nothing more than Atlantean hyperbole. As an empire, they weren’t given to modesty.’
‘What exactly was discovered?’ Olivia asked. ‘I’m assuming it wasn’t by you – you haven’t been out in the field since that awful business in the Congo.’
‘No, this was found by a joint team of Spanish archaeologists and the IHA – the International Heritage Agency, part of the United Nations,’ Nina added, for the benefit of the Dhajanis. ‘The ongoing excavations at Atlantis itself found evidence pointing to more Atlantean sites in south-western Spain, beneath the remains of Tartessian sites. The Tartessians,’ she went on, pre-empting more questions, ‘were a civilisation dating back at least as far as the seventh century BC. It looks increasingly likely that they built upon the remains of Atlantean settlements across the Iberian peninsula, or were even descendants of the Atlanteans themselves.’
The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14) Page 4