Maximov plucked the glass from his hand, then looked more closely at the golden cup. “Do we take the other things too?” he asked, already reaching for it.
“Leave it,” snapped Kruglov.
The scar on Maximov’s forehead twisted with his look of disappointment. “But it’s gold!”
“You can buy better from any goldsmith in Moscow. This is all we came for.” He took a slim, foam-lined metal case from inside his jacket, carefully placing the broken piece of sword inside before closing it with a click. “That’s it.”
Dominika peered into the reliquary. “I took care of the priest,” she announced in a bored tone.
Maximov’s scarred forehead furrowed again. “You killed him?”
She snorted sarcastically. “Duh.”
“But he was a priest!” he protested. “You can’t kill a priest!”
“Actually, it’s easy.” After rolling her eyes, she looked at the case in Kruglov’s hand. “Did you get it?”
“I got it. Let’s go.” Kruglov looked past her. “Where’s Yosarin?”
Another eye-roll. “He fell in a bush.”
Kruglov shook his head, then slipped the case back into his pocket and ducked through the low door. “Start the fire over there,” he decided, pointing at the first row of pews. “No need to make it look like an accident. The Sicilian Mafia will take the blame, it’s their kind of thing.” He strode up the aisle as Dominika sprayed lighter fluid over the pew, then lit a match a tossed it into the puddle of liquid. Flames instantly leaped up with a whump.
The trio left the church, joining Yosarin and climbing back into their SUV. As they drove down the winding road, the first curls of smoke drifted from the door of the little church, catching the last light of the dying sun as they rose.
1
Washington, D.C.:
Three Weeks Later
Nervous?” asked Eddie Chase, nudging his fiancée as they approached the door.
Nina Wilde fingered the pendant round her neck, her good-luck charm. “Er, yeah. Aren’t you?”
“Why? We’ve met the guy before.”
“Yes, but he wasn’t the frickin’ president then, was he?” An aide opened the door, and they were ushered into the Oval Office.
They were greeted by applause as they entered. Waiting for them were former U.S. Navy admiral Hector Amoros, their current boss at the United Nations’ International Heritage Agency; several White House officials and representatives of Congress; the First Lady … and Victor Dalton, the President of the United States of America.
“Dr. Wilde!” he said, stepping forward to shake Nina’s hand. “And Mr. Chase. Good to see you both again.”
“Good to see you again too. Uh, Mr. President,” Nina added quickly.
Chase shook hands next. “Thank you, sir.”
The others took their seats while Nina, Chase, and Dalton remained standing. Dalton waited for everyone to settle before speaking, standing half-turned to face the White House photographer recording the event as much as his guests of honor. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “distinguished members of Congress, members of my Cabinet. It is truly a great privilege to present this award to a woman whose unflinching bravery in the face of extreme danger has saved countless lives, both in America and elsewhere in the world. And at the same time, a woman whose dedication to science and discovery has changed our view of history forever, restoring to the world long-lost treasures that until now were thought only to be myth. In a way, she is responsible for protecting both our past and our future. I am honored today to introduce Dr. Nina Wilde, the discoverer of the lost city of Atlantis and the buried Tomb of Hercules, and also the savior of this nation from a monstrous terrorist act, and to present her with the highest accolade this office can bestow—the Presidential Medal of Freedom.”
Nina blushed, simultaneously fighting the pedantic urge to correct Dalton—Atlantis was the name of the island, not the city—as he carefully took a medal on a blue ribbon from a velvet tray. “Dr. Wilde, this nation is in your debt. I would be honored if you would accept this symbol of our eternal gratitude.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” she said, lowering her head. Dalton raised the medal and placed it around her neck. He then shook her hand once more before turning her to face the strobing flashes of the camera, which left her momentarily dazzled. The speech she had worked out earlier melted away to nothing under the onslaught of light and renewed applause. “Thank you,” she repeated, struggling to come up with something intelligent to say. “I’m… I’m very grateful for this award, this honor. And, um, I’d also like to thank my fiancé, Eddie—” She cringed mentally a that. I’d also like to thank? This isn’t the goddamn Oscars!—“without whom I’d probably be, well, dead. Several times over. Thank you. Everyone.” Cheeks now as red as her hair, she moved back.
“Dr. Wilde stepped on my toes a little there,” said Dalton jovially, raising a polite laugh and making Nina wish the Oval office had a secret trapdoor she could disappear down. “But yes, the second person we’re here to honor today is Eddie Chase”—he gestured for Chase to step forward and take Nina’s place—“who as a former member of the United Kingdom’s elite Special Air Service has chosen to eschew public recognition for security reasons, which is a decision we can all respect. But this nation owes him as much as Dr. Wilde a tremendous debt of gratitude for his role in preventing a terrorist atrocity.” He shook Chase’s hand. “Mr. Chase, on behalf of the people of the United States of America, I thank you.”
“Thank you,” said Chase as the applause began again. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to add anything else, the sound quickly died down. This time, only a single picture was taken: unlike the photos of Nina, which would be attached to a press release and sent out to news agencies worldwide within the hour, this was solely for the White House’s official records. Dalton’s slight turn away from Chase acted as an unspoken signal that the formal part of the presentation was over, and the audience stood up, the politicians seizing the opportunity to approach the president.
“So, that was your big speech?” Chase said quietly to Nina. “Thought it was going to be all about ‘the wonder of great treasures from the past’?”
Nina’s face screwed up at the reminder. “Don’t start. God, I was so embarrassed. You’re lucky I managed anything more coherent than ‘Duuuhhh …’”
Amoros stepped up to them. “Well, congratulations, to both of you. Eddie, are you sure you don’t want any kind of recognition? I’m sure something could have been arranged.”
“That’s okay,” said Chase firmly. “I’ve pissed off a lot of people over the years—last thing I need is to remind them that I shot their scumbag brother or whatever by getting a medal.” He looked down at Nina’s neck. “Speaking of which, that suits you. You should wear it at the airport, see if it gets us a free upgrade to first class.” Nina gave him a sarcastic smile.
“You’re still rushing off to England tonight?” Amoros asked.
Chase nodded. “Wednesday, meet the president of the United States at the White House. Thursday, meet my nan for tea and biscuits in Bournemouth. Not quite in the same league.”
“We’ve been engaged for nearly a year,” said Nina. “We thought is was time I met Eddie’s family.”
“You thought is was time,” Chase said pointedly.
Nina held back her response as Dalton joined them, hangers-on moving into position around him. “So, Dr. Wilde. You found Atlantis and the Tomb of Hercules—what’s next on your agenda? Discovering the Temple of Solomon, or maybe Noah’s Ark?” He finished the sentence with a small chuckle.
Nina didn’t laugh. “Actually, my current project for the IHA goes back much farther than anything I’ve done before—before Atlantis, even. What I’m trying to do is take advantage of the IHA’s access to worldwide archaeological and anthropological data to track the spread of humanity around the world in prehistory.” The words came out faster as her enthusiasm mounted. “The general
pattern of the expansion of mankind out of Africa across Asia and Australasia, and then later into the Americas and Europe, is pretty well established. The lowering of sea levels during ice ages allowed ancient humans to travel overland and settle in places that are now under water—there’s a very promising site in Indonesia we’re planning to explore later in the year.”
“I can’t wait,” said Chase. “It’ll be great to finally get out of the office and see some action!”
“Careful what you wish for,” Nina joked. “But my goal is to pinpoint the exact origin of humanity; the cradle of civilization, so to speak.”
The Tomb of Hercules is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
2009 Bantam Books Mass Market Edition
Copyright © 2008 by Andy McDermott
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in Great Britain by Headline Publishing Group, London, in 2008, and is published by arrangement with Headline Publishing Group.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90681-3
www.bantamdell.com
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
About the Author
Copyright
The Tomb of Hercules Page 43