Cash Cassidy Adventures: The Complete 5-Book Series (Plus Bonus Novels)

by K. T. Tomb

  “My publisher,” she said. “Let me take this. It might be important.”

  “Of course,” Tim said.

  Cash slipped out onto the garden patio behind the building, flipped open her phone and answered.

  “I have two words for you,” her publisher blurted out before Cash even had a chance to say hello. “Aegean Sea.”

  “What about it?” she said.

  “I've looked over your proposal for your next book and I think it's brilliant. We want you to get started on it right away.”

  Cash had sent an email the previous week about an idea she had been knocking around in her head for a while. Ever since the Holy Grail book, she wanted to create stories that tapped into the legendary, that fascinated humanity on a level that could not quite be explained. But the email had been a brainstorm, a late night after thought. She had almost forgotten she had sent it.

  “You mean the Atlantis thing?” Cash said to her publisher.

  “Yes, the Atlantis thing!” came the voice on the other end. “It's brilliant. The perfect follow up to The Templar's Secret. How soon can you build an outline?”

  Cash stammered.

  “Well, I guess I can get started on that right away.”

  She turned back to the glow coming through the large window behind her. Tim stood in front of an art deco painting which had been donated for the auction. Next to him were some of his colleagues, a professor wearing square metal rimmed glasses over a large mustache and a small woman in a flowing silk frock and a long string of glass beads. They were both laughing at something Tim had just said. Cash mulled over the idea of leaving again so soon after her last book, especially now that she and her husband were getting along so well.

  “I'll arrange for the tickets,” her publisher said. “Will you be traveling alone?”

  Cash took a breath.

  “Yes,” she replied. “You know how I work best. I'll travel alone.”

  “I'll email you the information in a bit.”

  “Okay,” Cash said.

  Cash hung up the phone, not relishing the idea of breaking this information to Tim. She took a delicate sip of the champagne in her hand and paused to think about how he would react to the news. Then she chugged the rest of it and went back inside.

  ***

  “When will you be leaving?” Tim asked in a terse tone.

  They were in the living room having just returned from the auction, when Cash had broken the news to him. She sat on the edge of the couch rubbing her bare feet, her strappy sandals tossed nearby. He paced the center of the room.

  “Tomorrow,” she said. “The tickets been arranged. I won't be gone long, Tim. You know that, a couple of weeks at the most.”

  “But we just got back, Cash,” he said.

  “Honey,” she said, “this will be the perfect time to start a new book. Your semester is beginning, which will keep you busy, and we just had the most wonderful trip together. This will be a good thing, Tim.”

  “That's just it,” he said. “We just had the most wonderful trip together. I rather like having you around, you know.”

  He approached her and took her hands, lifting her to her feet. She looked up at his face, realizing just how difficult it would be to leave this time. They had begun a new chapter in their relationship, a recovery stage of sorts. She felt a pang slip through her as Tim put his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into him. Underneath that sorrow, however, she felt the stirring of the story itching its way to the surface, trying to get out. She had to go.

  “I'm a writer,” she said. “This is what I do. I'll be back before you know it.”

  “How long?”

  “Three weeks, tops,” she said. “That will give me enough time for research and a rough draft. Then I'll do the final edits once I'm back.”

  He sighed, hearing the gentle firmness in her voice. Tim knew better than to try to dissuade her at all. Instead, he simply let his head drop to hers, taking in her presence while he could. Cash allowed herself a moment of vulnerability and leaned into his embrace.

  “I had better pack,” she said.

  “Can't you do that in the morning?” he mumbled into her hair.

  “My flight is at noon. Besides, it's probably going to be a late night,” she said, pulling back and giving him a sly grin.

  “Right, because I'll be helping you with your luggage and clothes?”

  “Maybe with my clothes,” she said and disappeared down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Tim took an instant to ponder the meaning of her last statement. A moment later, he smiled and promptly followed.

  Chapter Two

  “Last call for Flight 42 to Athens, Greece,” the voice stated calmly over the airport speaker system. Cash begrudgingly dislodged herself from her husband’s embrace and picked up her carry-on bag. She slung the strap over her shoulder and turned to say goodbye to Tim.

  “Call as soon as you land,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Yes. I'll be careful,” she said.

  “Come back safely.”

  “I will,” she said. He took a breath to say something else, possibly to continue the admonishments of devotion, but she raised her hand and placed her fingertips lightly over his mouth.

  “Goodbye darling. I'll call as soon as I land. If I don't leave now, I'll miss the flight.”

  “Yes, of course,” he took a step back and watched her walk toward the terminal entrance.

  She disappeared, but not before turning one last time with a quick wave. Once inside the plane, Cash settled in. This particular flight was only about half-full and the seat next to her was unoccupied. She stretched her arms out, enjoying the extra space. In all of her travels she had never been to Greece. Her publisher had arranged for her to stay in a small remote cabin on the edge of the Aegean Sea, in a place where Atlantis had supposedly sunk beneath the ocean. In addition, Cash was to meet with another scholar who lived in the area, an expert in ancient lore and Plato. His name was Dr. Edgar Carlyle. Tim had mentioned that he had heard of Dr. Carlyle’s work; an extensive dissertation on the works of Plato, with a focus on the legend of Atlantis. She watched out her window as the plane taxied onto the runway, taking little notice of the voice announcing the event. Cash had traveled so much in her life that she knew the routine nearly by heart. Store the carry-on in the overhead bin or underneath the seat, fasten seat belts, sit back and enjoy the flight. She had tucked her computer bag under the seat in front of her for easy access once they reached cruising altitude, so she could get some work done while in the air.

  The sound of the engines kicked into high gear, growing from a low rumble to a high pitched whine. After a moment the plane began to move, slowly at first but then increasing rapidly down the runway. Cash felt the plane lift off the tarmac and soar into the air. She waited. After about ten minutes, the voice came over the intercom of the plane and announced that passengers could now make use of their electronic devices. Cash pulled her computer out, a sleek notebook which she flipped open and immediately began to go through some of the files she had found on her subject.

  Atlantis.

  She had access to a research database which she logged into as soon as she had the files open. There had been a great deal of speculation and theory surrounding the location of Atlantis, but the majority of sources that Cash had found pointed to somewhere around the Mediterranean Sea. She had included this tidbit of information in the email she had sent her publisher. Cash had always liked to immerse herself in the culture and settings closest to what she was writing about. When writing The Templar's Secret, she had spent some time in Israel. Some of that time she had spent dodging bombs, but in the end she had escaped with the first draft of what turned out to be an award winning book, a lifelong friend with whom she still corresponded, and a secret encounter that had changed her view of everything. She truly hoped this venture would be a little less eventful.

  She glanced out the w
indow. They had gained an altitude that made the ground underneath them look like a large patchwork of colorful squares. The flight path took them across the entire United States and then out over the northern part of the Atlantic Ocean. From her vantage point, small tufts of clouds drifted here and there between the plane and the patchwork ground. She still had several hours of flight ahead of her, punctuated by a brief stopover at JFK airport. She pulled up the first file and began to read.

  While prominent within the writings of the Renaissance time period, the first mention of Atlantis was in Plato's early works Timaeus and Critius. These dialogues, written in 360 B.C. reference the 'Island of Atlas' which is ruled by five sets of twins. The ancient god Poseidon had fallen in love with Cleito and they parented the twins who were then each given a segment of the Island. The oldest twin, Atlas, was given the charge as King of the entire island of Atlantis and the surrounding ocean. Eumeleus, twin brother of Atlas, Ampheres and Evaemon, Mneseus and Autochthon, Elasippus and Mestor, and Azaes and Diaprepes, each ruled over a part of the continent.

  According to Plato's works, a great war occurred between the citizens of Atlantis and those outside the barrier of the Strait of Gibraltar, resulting in the slavery of many citizens even as far as Egypt. An organized force from Athens rose up against the Atlanteans, driving them back to the mainland of the continent. Having angered the gods, Atlantis suffered retribution, culminating in the earthquakes and flooding which sent the landmass plunging into the surrounding sea.

  In later works, the society inhabiting the island is described as a utopia. Contrary to Plato's works, the Atlanteans are described as a superior human race. The placement of the island is speculated to be akin to the origin story of humanity. Some go so far as to say that the islanders were a race of advanced alien beings that had psychic abilities and other supernatural powers.

  There is much speculation even to this day, as to the historical existence of Atlantis and whether the flooding was as a result of environmental decay or divine retribution.

  “Pardon, Miss. Would you care for a beverage?”

  The voice of the flight attendant snapped her out of her concentration. He stood next to her seat with the large cart full of sodas, small bags of chips and assorted snacks.

  “Yes please,” Cash replied. She did not realize how long she had been reading. The dry atmosphere of the cabin had left her parched. “Regular cola if you have it.”

  The flight attendant filled the small cup with ice from the bucket and poured the drink. Cash closed the laptop and moved it aside, and he set the drink down on her tray. She saw out of her peripheral vision the slight double take that happened so often when people realized who she was. He leaned in and lowered his voice, “Are you... Cash Cassidy?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she said in a quiet but firm voice. She offered him a smile as his eyes lit up. She appreciated that he did not make a production out of her presence.

  “Do you mind... Would you care... I mean...” The attendant stumbled over his words attempting to ask for an autograph. His hands shook as he handed her a small cocktail napkin with the logo of the airline emblazoned upon it. He stammered on. “I'm sorry. I'm just a huge fan. I thought your last book was genius.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “That is very generous. I'm happy that it was well received.” She took the small napkin, signed her name with her classic swooshy handwriting, the same signature that was printed on the last page of every book. She handed him back the napkin which he then tucked into his jacket pocket. A huge smile of gratitude erupted across his face. Cash enjoyed seeing people who liked her work. This kind of interaction reminded her why she did what she did. The attendant kept the smile on his face as he continued down the aisle. Cash returned to the screen in front of her, smiling to herself. After a while, she shut down her computer to prepare for landing at JFK.

  As she exited the plane, she gave a quick wave to the flight attendant who stood in the line to assist the exiting passengers. He had not stopped grinning from ear to ear. She had just over an hour before her next flight, so she checked the flight board for the next gate and headed to the food court. Cash settled in at the bar of a small eatery overlooking the tarmac. She ordered a sandwich and lifted her phone to call Tim. The call directed to voice mail and she left a quick message saying that she was at her stopover, but would call again once she reached Athens. She flipped her phone closed just as her food arrived.

  “Calling your boyfriend?” a man about midway down the bar asked. He wore a business suit, but his collar had been unbuttoned and his tie hung loosely around his neck. She noticed that he might have been a handsome man once, but time and a shoddy lifestyle had taken their toll. He sat at a jaunty angle on the bar stool with a drink in his hand, eyes scanning the room. His thinning blond hair had been combed meticulously, and a small paunch strained against the belt of his creased pants.

  “I'm sorry?” Cash said, in a calculated, bored tone.

  “Your boyfriend,” he repeated. “Or your husband?”

  Cash turned to her food.

  “Neither,” she said, dismissing him.

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “Neither,” he echoed. “Then you’re available. Got plans for the evening? I know a place...”

  His voice trailed off as he grinned, leaning toward her slightly.

  “No, thank you,” she said, increasing the coldness in her tone. The man stood and approached her, openly looking her over from head to toe.

  “Come on,” he said. “A girl like you surely knows how to have a good time. What would it take? I could easily make it worth your while.”

  He sat down next to her and boldly placed his hand on her thigh.

  Immediately, Cash grabbed him by the wrist, finding with her fingertips the exact pressure point which allowed her to then twist his arm into a most painful position. She pulled him into her clutching firmly to his arm. His face, now inches from hers, had gone pale and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. His eyes peering at her were wide and panicked.

  “Listen, fucker,” she said through clenched teeth. “All I want to do is eat my meal in peace and catch my flight. I told you 'no thank you.' It would be in your best interest to just walk away and don't look back, because if you lay a finger on me again, I'm keeping it as a souvenir. You got it?”

  He stammered, “I didn't mean...”

  She bore down on the nerve, making his twisted arm clench with the added pressure.

  “I said, you got it?”

  “I got it. I got it,” he said in a voice close to a whine.

  She held his arm for another few seconds, staring him down. His eyes roamed wildly around trying to look anywhere but into her accusing eyes. When she released him, he nearly stumbled off the stool, rubbing his sore wrist as he backed away, abandoning his tumbler of melted ice and bourbon. She heard him mumble something as he exited the bar. Something along the lines of, “No reason to be such a bitch about it.”

  Cash turned to the bartender and gestured toward the glass.

  “I'll take one of those, please.”

  “Top shelf, Ms. Cassidy?” the bartender asked with an obvious smirk on his face, impressed by her bravado.

  “Please,” she said, granting him a smile.

  He poured her a glass which he slid across to her and then returned to cleaning the glasses in the small sink behind the bar. When she finished her meal, she downed the glass of bourbon, letting the contents fill her with smooth warmth. She saw no sign of the man when she got up to leave and hoped that she had left enough of an impression that his days of trolling the airport bar would perhaps be put to an end, at least for a little while. She gathered her bags and headed toward the next gate.

  ***

  In what felt like a lifetime later, Cash arrived in Athens; one of the oldest cities in Greece, nestled at the edge of the Aegean Sea. The time was actually 1:28 a.m. She had slept on the plane, mostly in thanks to the pod-like transformation her bus
iness class seat made, and felt surprisingly refreshed as she exited the terminal. The balmy sea air cleared her head even further. She found the area where her rental car, a small, blue Fiat, waited for her arrival and after loading up her bags into the trunk and navigating her way out of the complex airport parking lot, she found the oceanfront highway which she would follow all the way to the seaside. A private cabin had been arranged for her there.

  As she drove, Cash felt nearly overcome by the beauty of the landscape. Ancient themes shone through the modern buildings and natural landscapes. She could easily picture the land of the gods as she passed the white shores, and was greeted by view after view of the expansive, glistening blue sea. Every detail of the cliffy hillsides stood in contrast to the azure sky and the bright sunshine. She drove with the windows down wanting to breath in the very essence of the landscape. No wonder this country brought in so many tourists. The city gave way to farmland, rolling green into the distance. Fields of olive groves scented the air and made her mouth water. Occasionally, an ornate domed church would accessorize the picturesque landscape. Finally a little sign announced that she was leaving the Athens city limits.

  She easily found her way to the cabin, in a remote and pristine area. The small building overlooked a private beach, with a wooden path leading to the edge of the sand. She was only about ten minutes from the city proper, but the cabin had been fully stocked with food and amenities for her arrival. After she parked her car and pulled her bags inside, Cash decided to go ahead and call Tim to let him know that she had arrived.

  “I miss you terribly,” he said in an exaggerated swoon when he answered.

  “Of course you do, darling,” she replied with a laugh. “It's gorgeous here by the way. I'll be meeting Dr. Carlyle for dinner so I can't chat long.”

  “I'm glad you made it safely,” he said. “Have a good time and get lots of work done.”