The Spear of Atlantis (Wilde/Chase 14)

by Andy McDermott

  Krakatoa.

  The Indonesian islands had seen much volcanic activity, but the eruption of 27 August 1883 put them on the map, while ironically all but wiping several of them from it. Had Krakatoa too hidden a spearhead?

  There had not yet been any direct evidence of the Atlanteans reaching Indonesia, but Nina had followed their trail across Asia as far as Nepal and Tibet, and was convinced she had only scratched the surface. If they had travelled beyond the Pacific’s western shores, the great island chain sweeping from Thailand practically to Australia would have been the first thing they found. She knew that an even more ancient civilisation, known only as the Veteres, had made the same journey; it was not a stretch that explorers from Atlantis could have followed suit.

  And the Atlanteans were conquerors, regarding any land they crossed as part of their dominion. If they encountered a civilisation in the archipelago powerful enough to be considered a threat – a possibility, since evidence of human population there dated back over forty thousand years – they might have deemed it dangerous enough to deploy their ultimate deterrent.

  Which, like its counterpart on Thera, had been lost to time . . . until the nineteenth century.

  ‘Or not,’ she said, with a small shrug. She was realistic enough to know all of this was nothing more than theory, even pure speculation. But she had discovered Atlantis, and more besides, from the same starting point. What if there was truth to this too?

  If so, there was also great danger.

  Her gaze went to the last cross. It was in eastern Turkey, not far north of the Syrian border. The site of an ancient civilisation – and this one was well-documented fact.

  Gobekli Tepe was one of the world’s oldest known cities, at least a contemporary of Atlantis and possibly dating back even further. Lost and buried for millennia, it was only rediscovered in the 1960s, and its full extent and importance not realised for another three decades. Excavation of the neolithic complex was still ongoing, but nobody in the archaeological community believed all its secrets would be uncovered for a very long time.

  A civilisation, advanced for its era, existing at the height of Atlantis’s power, on the route from Europe into central Asia. A gatekeeper – a potential rival. That was something the Atlanteans would not allow to stand without challenge.

  Had they planted the third spearhead nearby?

  She flicked through the atlas to a map of Turkey. The level of detail was relatively low, but it was enough to show that while Gobekli Tepe was situated on a plateau, higher mountains rose all around it. If the pattern was repeated for all three vaults, the spearhead would have been hidden on the highest hill roughly six miles to the north. It would be straightforward enough to find the most likely candidate once she had access to proper maps and an internet connection.

  Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? she thought wryly. There was the minor matter of being hunted by the police to deal with . . .

  Before she could mull any more on that problem, a commotion from the reception area below caught her attention. She had been so engrossed in her work that the hostel’s comings and goings hadn’t even registered, but the voices coming up through the floorboards were particularly loud – urgent, even. She listened, realising they were speaking in English. One voice was the hostel’s manager, the other someone asking for a room—

  Sudden fear struck her. The man wasn’t asking for a room. He was asking for her room! ‘The American woman, with long red hair! Where is she?’

  The manager’s reply was indistinct, but clearly a confused denial of any knowledge. It took Nina a moment to remember she no longer had long red hair. The other voice grew louder. ‘I know she is here! An American woman, alone! What room?’

  Nina jumped from the bed. Her pursuers had found her!

  She had to get out of here. But even as she donned her shoes, she heard footsteps running up the stairs. More than one person. The main staircase was the nearest way out of the building, and now it was blocked.

  The window.

  She threw it open. Street lights had come on outside, revealing a man at the hostel’s entrance. He looked up at the noise, and saw her.

  The leader of the raiders. The same hard-faced man she had faced aboard the Atlantia.

  A glance back at the bed – at the markers, her notes. Shit! She had to take them; combined, they led straight to the last spearhead’s location—

  No time. The pounding feet were almost up the stairs.

  She jumped on to the windowsill and leaned out, stretching to grab the bottom of the small balcony of the room above. Her fingers scraped through bird droppings and cigarette ash before hooking over the crumbling brick around its edge. Feet scrabbling against the twisted skeins of electrical cables running up the building’s side, she hauled herself upwards just as the door of her room was smashed open.

  Someone shouted in Arabic. She glanced down. The raiders’ leader had disappeared, probably into the building, but he had been replaced by a much closer threat. A young Middle Eastern man leaned from her window. He grabbed her foot, but she jerked it clear before he could get a firm hold.

  The man started out after her. Nina dragged herself over the rust-bubbled railing on to the balcony. It was little more than a foot wide, narrow French doors opening inwards. She shoulder-barged them. They burst open, sending her reeling through on to the bed. The two men sharing it sat up in shock, one of them yelping something in German. ‘Sorry!’ said Nina, rolling off and scrambling to the exit. ‘Go about your business!’

  She threw the door open, emerging in a hallway identical to the one below. The main stairs were to her right, but she could already hear someone hurrying up them. Another startled German cry warned that the man following her had reached the balcony.

  Nina ran left, hoping the hostel had a fire escape. The hall turned, taking her deeper into the old building. Someone shouted orders: the leader, sending his men after her. At least three pursuers, and if it was the entire crew of raiders from the Atlantia, over twice that many. She had to get out of the building, fast.

  A door was marked Salida: exit. She crashed through to find herself in a gloomy stairwell at the rear of the hostel. Down—

  Light flooded in below as someone kicked open a door. Up!

  She hared upstairs. Two more storeys, then she reached the final landing. A door led into the hostel’s top floor, but there was another exit. Nina rushed through to find herself on a small roof terrace, cheap metal tables bearing ashtrays and cigarette burns. The deep red sky cast an unsettling half-light over the old cityscape before her.

  No way down. She looked around. The hostel was midway along a street, the adjoining buildings a mismatched jumble of styles and heights. A two-storey drop to her right, but the rooftop to the left was within reach.

  She used a table as a step to climb on to it. Tiles clattered beneath her feet, one shifting under her weight and almost making her stumble. She recovered and continued up to the ridge, grabbing a chimney stack for support as she got her bearings.

  No apparent way down to ground level. She set off again, arms outstretched for balance as she hurried along the rooftop. A loud bang behind: her pursuers had reached the terrace. Someone shouted. They had seen her.

  She jumped to a lower roof, skidding as she dislodged moss and dirt from the old tiles. There was another terrace at the rooftop’s rear, a lower level beyond. She angled towards it.

  Two men were already running after her, menacing silhouettes against the bloody sky. A third man scrambled up from the hostel’s terrace behind them. The leading man was gaining quickly, crossing the sloping surface as sure-footed as a cat.

  Nina reached the terrace, dropping down – and recoiled as a small but vicious dog snapped at her, defending its home against the unexpected intrusion. ‘Whoa, whoa, it’s okay!’ she cried, skittering around the furious animal as it lunged repeatedly at her ankles. ‘Good boy, girl, whatever!’

  There was a squeaky rubber chicken
on the floor. She grabbed it, the dog targeting its plaything instead. She was about to toss it at the apartment door to get the animal out of her way, then had a better idea.

  The first man vaulted down into the terrace as she ran for its far end – and threw the toy at him. The dog charged after it, barking angrily. The raider reacted to the seemingly frenzied beast with fear. He kicked at the animal, which only doubled its fury. It latched on to his lower leg, sinking its teeth into his flesh. The man shrieked.

  Nina jumped on to another roof, one of a line of three or four buildings of roughly the same height. Still no direct way to the ground, but there was a promising gap beyond them. She ran again.

  Behind her, the second raider reached the terrace. He did not share his comrade’s fear of dogs, swatting the animal with the rubber chicken before lobbing it. The dog released its prey and scrambled after the toy. The man pulled his companion back upright, then turned to pursue Nina once more.

  The third man overtook them both. He had bypassed the terrace by traversing the apartment’s rooftop, making a flying leap down to Nina’s level. Tiles smashed with the impact of his landing, but he stayed on his feet and raced on as broken pieces skittered down the sloping roof in his wake.

  Nina looked back. The man was closing fast. She hopped up on to a slightly higher building, hurriedly rounding an illuminated skylight and ducking behind a chimney. The Arab followed—

  And took a television antenna to the face.

  Nina had pulled the aerial’s pole with her as she passed, releasing it to spring back at him. The man screamed and reeled backwards on to the skylight. The glass shattered beneath him, pitching him into the room below to smash down on a startled family’s dining table.

  But now the other two men had jumped from the terrace. Nina kept going, hopping on to the next roof and reaching the gap she had spotted.

  It was completely vertical: an alleyway, the ground three storeys below. No way down. Nor could she jump across, the gap a good fifteen feet and the roof higher on the far side. Even with a run-up, she would fall short. She looked around in desperation. The two men were getting closer.

  There was a top-floor balcony at the front of the other building, a furled patio parasol at its corner. The terrace was small, but it was her only option. She hopped back then ran, leaping across the alley—

  She barely cleared the railing on the far side, one foot clipping its top as she made a punishing landing. The parasol toppled to land beside her.

  The two raiders halted at the roof’s edge. The man who had been bitten retreated to make the leap, but winced at the sting of his wounds. A brief exchange, then the second man took his place.

  He broke into a run, jumping after their target – to find himself hurtling helplessly towards a waiting spear. Nina had flipped the parasol around, pointing its top over the balcony wall. Even though the shaft was capped by a plastic ball, the blow to his chest was still agonising – and there was more pain to come.

  The collision robbed him of the momentum he needed to reach the balcony. Instead, he slammed against the railing and rebounded off it, falling—

  Nina cringed, expecting to hear a bone-breaking thud. Instead there was a metallic tearing sound, like a giant guitar string snapping – then came the flat thump of a body hitting the ground. She wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or dismay when it was followed by a groan; the raider had survived his plunge.

  She pushed herself up and peered over the balcony. The man was sprawled in the alley below. Strands of wire coiled around him – telephone lines. He had fallen on to a clutch of cables, breaking his fall.

  Two pursuers down, but the third was still on the rooftop opposite, staring in dismay at his fallen colleague before looking back at Nina with rising anger. And behind him, she spotted another silhouette hurrying along the rooftops.

  A light came on in the apartment. Glancing through the window, she saw a middle-aged couple, their expressions first startled, then furious as they saw the trespasser on their balcony. The woman yelled something; Nina picked out the word policía clearly enough.

  She rushed to the balcony’s other end, jumping diagonally from its railing to the slightly lower roof of the next building. The fading light caused her to underestimate the distance, giving her a heart-punching jolt of terror as her feet barely cleared the rotten guttering.

  She hurried along the roof’s crown. Still no way down, none of the buildings in the row less than three storeys tall, and she would soon reach another alley. This one looked wider than the first. She glanced towards the back of the row. Maybe there was a lower extension at the rear—

  A tile broke loose under her foot. She staggered as it slipped away from her, landing hard on her side. More tiles were jarred free, skittering down the sloping roof . . .

  And she went with them.

  ‘Shit!’ Nina gasped, clutching at the rooftop – but she was already moving too fast, her fingernails scraping over the old tilework. She slid towards the edge, the street opening out below . . .

  She twisted, jamming her heels down to catch the gutter. They slammed against the mouldy, leaf-clogged wood – and a yard-long section of guttering broke away, tumbling down to smash into splinters on the sidewalk. She followed it over the edge—

  A desperate roll, scrabbling for any last iota of grip – and finding it.

  Nina caught the surviving gutter’s ragged end with one hand. She dangled above the street, shoulder joint straining. The wooden channel creaked, the rusty peg holding it in place inching from the eaves.

  Her other hand found a crack in the wall’s scabbed plasterwork. She dug her fingertips into it . . . feeling it crumble.

  Another ominous groan from the gutter. She looked up, terrified. The old wood was giving way. She tried to find purchase with her feet, but the movement caused the peg to edge out still further.

  One toe caught a protrusion on the wall, but slipped off before she could steady herself. The gutter moaned again, sagging.

  She was going to fall—

  Dirt dropped on to her face. She shook it off, then looked up again.

  The third raider was standing over her.

  Nina felt a new surge of fear. He was going to kick her off—

  The man stood unmoving for a moment . . . then bent down, stretching out a hand.

  A rush of conflicting emotions hit her. Her attempt to escape had failed and the raiders were about to capture her, but at least she would still be alive. She tried to reach up—

  A shout from below.

  The man froze. Another yell – a command, in Arabic. Nina risked a glance down. It was the raiders’ leader. A second man with him was holding something.

  She realised with horror that it was all her notes, and the atlas. They had everything they needed to locate the last spearhead. She had literally drawn them a treasure map marked with an ‘X’.

  Which meant they no longer needed her.

  The man on the roof withdrew his hand and straightened, watching his leader and the other man run off . . . then he looked back at Nina.

  His foot edged towards her hand.

  ‘No, please,’ Nina gasped as his sole pressed against her knuckles. ‘Don’t do it!’

  He gave her an almost apologetic look, then lifted his boot slightly, about to stamp down—

  A clatter from behind him as the last pursuer caught up. The man standing over her turned – and to Nina’s shock, crumpled as something struck his head.

  His attacker caught him before he toppled over the edge and pulled him back, then peered down at her.

  Agreste.

  Nina’s fear returned at the sight of the Frenchman. He had killed Ana, and now he was going to finish her off too—

  His first words were the last thing she expected. ‘Let me help you.’ Like the raider before him, he reached down to take her hand. Her first instinct was to refuse, before the rational part of her mind took back control; friend or foe, he was the only person who could save
her. Nevertheless, she still readied herself as he hauled her back up. If she had to push him off, she would . . .

  ‘Please do not do anything foolish, Dr Wilde,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘Nothing is what it seems.’

  ‘Oh, so that guy wasn’t just about to kick me off the roof?’ she snapped, glancing at the unconscious Arab.

  ‘I am afraid he was. Why, I do not know. It was not part of the plan, and as my instructions are to protect you, I had to become involved directly.’

  ‘Protect me!’ The moment she was securely on the roof, she jerked free and retreated. ‘You tried to kill me! And you killed Ana!’

  He shook his head. ‘Ana is still alive. We were working together.’

  ‘What?’

  Agreste regarded the street below as a police siren began to wail. ‘I will explain. But this is not the best place, no? There is, I think, a way down on the other side.’ He dragged the raider a few yards back up the roof before continuing towards the ridge.

  ‘Why should I trust you?’

  ‘I saved your life. Is that not enough?’

  ‘I’ve had bad guys save my life before. It’s usually because they want me for something.’

  He halted, his wry smile just visible in the encroaching darkness. ‘My employer did want you for something, yes. But I am not a bad guy, and,’ he went on, glancing after the departed raiders, ‘I am afraid someone else has taken it.’ He continued to the top of the roof, beckoning for her to follow. ‘When we get down, I will tell you what is going on – at least, as much as I know.’

  Reluctantly, Nina went with him.

  28

  Several people had called the police, including the hostel’s manager. Nina waited on a nearby street while Agreste went to investigate the pension. She almost took the opportunity to run, but she had nowhere to go – and even if she did, without passport or money she would not get far.

  He returned after several minutes. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked.

  ‘I spoke to the police,’ he replied. ‘They are looking for you.’

  ‘Well, yeah. They have been ever since I arrived in the country.’