The Atlantis Stone

by Nick Hawkes

  There was nothing.

  Without stopping, he began on the pallet beside it.

  Cars and trucks continued to speed by. Half of Benjamin’s mind noticed that there seemed to be a lot of trucks traveling tonight. He caught himself reasoning that it was a Thursday night. Many trucks would want to make the eight-hour night run so that they could unload on Friday morning—before the weekend.

  The other half of Benjamin’s mind was terrified.

  He glanced at his watch. It was impossible. They had only taken nine minutes.

  Thump. Another bag fell to the ground. Thump. Yet another.

  The absurdity of Benjamin’s situation dawned on him. Here he was, dressed in a diver’s wetsuit, raiding a semi-trailer somewhere in the middle of the Victorian Wimmera.

  “Hey, mate.” Archie interrupted his thoughts. “We’ve got something here.” He took the torch hanging around his neck and shone it into the hole he’d excavated. Then, reaching in, he pulled out a bag. It was very much smaller in size than the fertilizer bags. Benjamin could see the glint of crystals in the torchlight through the layers of clear plastic.

  “Come here and grab it,” said Archie. “Watch you don’t twist an ankle on the fertilizer bags.” As Benjamin took the bag that was handed down to him, he felt its contents crunch slightly. He carried it to the storage bin in the back of the ute and dropped it in.

  Three minutes later, eight packages had been secured inside the plastic bin.

  Benjamin climbed into the front seat of the ute as Archie walked over to the two truck drivers to check on their well-being and ensure their handcuffs remained secure. Archie patted one of them on the shoulder before walking back to the ute.

  As soon as Archie climbed in, Benjamin shifted the ute into gear and drove out onto the highway. He continued along it for ten kilometers before turning off onto a small paved country lane. Moments later, they were parked by a farm gate. The hoof prints of cattle and cowpats pockmarked the earth around them. It was a gate used by dairy cattle—cattle that would be milked again in the morning. Their footprints would trample all signs of them ever having been there.

  Archie and Benjamin got out of the ute, filled two buckets from plastic jerry-cans and began to wash the temporary car-art paint from the utility. Gradually, its original white paint reappeared. Once they’d finished, they washed themselves in their wetsuits and then changed back into their normal clothes.

  Curious cows watched them from over the fence.

  They drove back to Horsham using the back roads. It took a long time, not least because they stopped every forty kilometers or so to change a rear wheel. First one, then another was rolled into the bush beside the road and a second-hand wheel put on in its place. It was an hour-and-a-half before they got back to their caravan park.

  Archie chivvied him along for the next two hours as they repacked to the packets of drugs. It seemed to Benjamin that he’d been wearing gloves of one type or another forever. As he finally pulled off his latex gloves, he couldn’t help but feel that he was shedding his innocence. No fingerprints. Anonymous. Who was he?

  He sighed. At the very least, he was a man who was prepared to break the law in order to destroy those who threatened people he loved. The enormity of what he and Archie had just done appalled him. He looked at his hands. They were shaking.

  Archie glanced at Benjamin and put on the kettle. “I prescribe tea…with four spoons of sugar.” He pulled two mugs out from the cupboard. “It helps with shock.” Archie tore open some sachets of sugar and tipped their contents into the mugs.

  Benjamin nodded his thanks as he accepted his mug of tea. It was a challenge even to reach out and hold it. His forearms had become stiff, and his hands felt clumsy.

  Archie selected the music function on his phone and chose an easy-listening playlist. Benjamin laced his fingers together and bent them backward to ease out their stiffness. The music was therapeutic for Archie, too, even if he wasn’t inclined to think about it. What Benjamin really wanted, though, was…what? To hear a voice…

  Felicity…I just want to hear your voice…Where are you? Are you okay? More than anything else, I just want to hear your voice…

  Not possible. The desperate ache.

  Benjamin began to feel the stirring of an idea. It demanded attention—like an itch. The sensation surprised him. It was an insistent conviction that he should call Marjorie. He reached out and took hold of his phone.

  His call was answered almost immediately. “Hello Benjamin.”

  Marjorie’s voice didn’t sound tired, even though it was nearly midnight. Benjamin was relieved. She continued, “I was having a wretched night and couldn’t sleep. I hoped someone might call.”

  “Oh.” A million questions immediately suggested themselves. He ignored them. “I…um, know Archie rang Phoebe earlier but I just…felt the need to call. It’s…been…” He trailed off.

  “Shocking?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bewildering?”

  “Yes.”

  “Confronting?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was something you did for love.”

  “Um…yes.”

  “You’ve bitten the apple, Benjamin. But not all apples are bad. Some strengthen you.”

  There was silence for a long while.

  Eventually, Benjamin said, “I tried to pray, you know. But I wasn’t very…”

  “What was the voice like, that tried to stop you?”

  “How…How do you know?”

  “What was it like?” Marjorie insisted.

  “It was chilly. It jeered.”

  Marjorie sighed. “I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

  Benjamin didn’t understand, but he pushed on. “Marjorie, how do I know that your Christian faith isn’t just a Western cultural thing? After all, I’m part Aboriginal…and we have a different spirituality.”

  “Do you, Benjamin? Do you really? Don’t you have a supreme Creator, a single higher being whom your people know is the ultimate source of life and creation?”

  “Er…yes.”

  “Well, when you discover his love for you, you will discover your full identity.”

  “But aren’t other ways of expressing spirituality just as valid?”

  “All spiritualities are searches for a God we instinctively know exists. It’s just that our attempts to define him have resulted in some rather odd ideas.” She paused before continuing, “It was an impasse that God solved by coming to us.”

  “Coming to us?”

  “Mmm. He came to pay the price for our sins that separated us from him.”

  “Marjorie, I’ve broken more laws in the last five hours than most people do in a lifetime.”

  “I know, dear. Life’s complicated.”

  Benjamin could hear that Marjorie’s voice was getting weaker. He chastised himself for wearying her. “I’d better go. Thanks for…speaking to me. I…I needed to hear…”

  “So did I, Benjamin.” Marjorie’s breath labored for a while before she continued. “Just one more thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for my lovely blackwood box. It’s beautiful.”

  Benjamin searched for the right words to say. In the end, he gave up and settled for, “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 22

  Benjamin had seriously underestimated the effect that towing a heavy boat on a tandem trailer would have on petrol consumption. Archie always insisted on paying, and he did so with cash. When Benjamin questioned him about it, he was evasive. “I’ve got an expense budget. It’s not massive, so we need to be careful.” He grinned. “And I need to keep the receipts.”

  His comment made Benjamin shake his head. He could picture the receipt:

  COST:

  Several hundred dollars.

  PURPOSE:

  1) Raiding a semi-trailer of forty million dollars’ worth of drugs belonging to a motorcycle gang

  2) mounting an attack on
a major commercial operation

  3) …and, please God, finding Felicity

  Felicity…What would she be thinking right now? Was she safe? Would she know that he and Archie were coming for her? Benjamin dare not allow the anguish over what she might be going through to overwhelm him. He couldn’t bear to picture it; knowing he would be totally debilitated by it. Yet the monster was always there, threatening to crash over him and drown him in despair. He forced himself to relax and retreat to a place within his heart—a still place where questions were sometimes answered.

  Outside, the Wimmera plains spread out before him. Benjamin grieved at what he saw. Vast tracts of land had been cleared of trees to make room for farms. Huge fields bordered by crooked gray posts cut from native timber stretched into timelessness. Its emptiness shrieked at him. Once there were stringy barks and mallee trees. Now, only remnants remained.

  Inside his heart, he traveled deeper and deeper into that quiet place—and when the path faded into peace, he knew he had arrived. He sat down and waited.

  There was a stand of buloke trees, so loved by the red-tailed cockatoo.

  Inside, he continued to wait.

  A zephyr of wind warmed his cheek—a caress. It was nothing, nothing at all…except that it was a comfort.

  It was enough. Benjamin allowed himself to float slowly to the surface, to meet his conscious mind as it searched the Wimmera landscape.

  Archie shifted in the seat beside him. His eyes were half-closed.

  Benjamin risked making a comment. “I’m not sure that getting rid of the rear wheels has done us much good. If the police search us now, they’ll find forty kilograms of methamphetamine, a power saw, and two wetsuits.”

  “Yeah, mate. If we’re stopped now, we’re gone for all money. But my concern is what happens next week when this little mission is over. We need to be squeaky clean by then.” He closed his eyes. “Police investigations usually take a bit of time. That’s why we need to move quickly while we can.”

  Benjamin nodded. “I’ve been thinking a bit about that.”

  Archie raised an eyebrow.

  “The absolute priority in this Sydney trip is to find Felicity and secure her safety. Nothing else we do must be allowed to jeopardize that.”

  “Your point?”

  “If we do find Felicity, I don’t want her compromised by our being in possession of a stack of illegal drugs. So, ideally, I’d like to ditch the drugs first. The trouble is, that’s bound to be risky—and I don’t want us getting caught before we find Felicity.”

  “So, what do you have in mind?”

  “If Felicity is in the sailing boat, how confident are you of being able to get her out?”

  “Pretty confident.”

  “Could you do it on your own?”

  “Yeah.”

  The certainty of Archie’s reply was slightly disturbing. Benjamin swallowed and continued. “Let me place the drugs while you are nowhere near. Then, if something goes wrong, you can slip away on your own and still rescue Felicity.”

  Archie nodded. “Sounds reasonable. But if you’re going to place the drugs, mate, there’re a few things you’re going to have to learn…and a few things I’ll have to do to set you up.”

  They headed east along the Wimmera Highway through Bendigo, then across country to Seymour. By the time they had climbed onto the Hume Highway and were heading toward Sydney, a plan of sorts had taken shape. Benjamin thought the sheer audacity of what they were contemplating was appalling. The only thing that kept him focused was his determination to destroy the evil that threatened Felicity. Anger, he discovered, was a great motivator.

  Archie grunted as he looked at the screen on his phone. “Phoebe’s sent me a picture and a plan of Khayef’s boat. Take a look.”

  Benjamin glanced at it quickly. He saw again the sweeping shape of the luxury yacht. Its curving windows of black glass made it look as though it was wearing too much mascara.

  Archie gave him the details. “It’s a sixty-nine foot Ferretti luxury motor cruiser capable of thirty knots. It has three double cabins, all with en suites, and one crew cabin with its own bathroom.”

  “Doesn’t sound too shabby.”

  “It’s got one fore-hatch, which we have to assume will be locked. The only access to the cabins is via a staircase by the main driving console. There is no way to get to it without going through the main saloon.”

  “So we’ll have to do all we want to do outside her?”

  “Yeah. But it’ll take balls. You sure you’re up for it?”

  “What can you tell me that might help me get through it?”

  Archie glanced at him appraisingly and said, “Rule one: The most ballsy missions require the most patience. You’ve got to out-wait what people normally expect. Being patient under pressure isn’t easy.”

  Benjamin nodded.

  “Rule two: Get comfortable. Take it slow and conserve energy. Then, when you need it, you’ve got it. Don’t be heroic and expend energy until you need to. That is particularly the case when you’re working underwater. Anything underwater takes twenty times more energy and ten times longer.”

  Benjamin wasn’t sure Archie’s wisdom was much comfort.

  It was a deceit that gave the illusion of some civility: Carter always knocked before he unfastened the bolts and opened the door into the forepeak. Felicity was expecting him as the speedboat had returned only a few minutes earlier. It would have brought their lunch—invariably hot and generous in its portions. She chose to foster the illusion by responding to Carter’s knock, saying, “Come in.”

  In reality, she wanted to scream, to hit him, to do anything that might help her escape her imprisonment. Being confined in such a small space for so long was beginning to wear her down. Clouds of melancholy and despair rolled over her—never leaving her alone for long. She’d set in place a routine that helped her deal with them, but each day, it was getting harder. Felicity began her routine by thinking of Benjamin and imagining what he might be doing to find her. He would be doing all he could to find her. She knew with absolute certainty that he would be doing all he could. Hour after hour, day after day, she instructed the neural pathways in her brain: Benjamin will not rest until he’s found me…and he has the resources of a formidable team to help him. The second thing she did was to put herself through a punishing exercise routine. Her confined space meant that her options were limited. Squats, sit-ups, and push-ups constituted the core of her regime but each day she tried to introduce a new exercise to ensure variety. She exercised for ten minutes every two hours.

  Felicity sometimes found herself pondering the serenity of Marjorie even in the face of death. She envied her.

  Knock, knock.

  Felicity sat up on her bunk and straightened her blouse. “Come in.”

  Carter came in and handed her a silver foil container. A plastic fork was balanced on top of it. In his other hand he held a hemp shopping bag. He nodded to her. “Miss Anderson. We have risotto today.” He turned around to Felicity’s makeshift workbench. “How are you progressing?”

  Very formal; surreal. You are planning to use me and then kill me. “Quite well. Here, I’ll show you.” She stood up and bent over the box with the vellum at the bottom of it. “I’ve managed to unroll another five millimeters. That’s good progress.” Win his confidence. Show compliance. What she didn’t say was that it was her practice to spend a few minutes desiccating the vellum with her hair drier every few hours so that the solutions she applied to it would have minimal effect. As she leaned over, she stretched the fabric of her blouse and showed as much cleavage as she could.

  She took a pair of tweezers and bent back a corner of the vellum. “See?”

  Carter peered inside the box, his nose just inches from her breasts. He didn’t even blink.

  Oh dear, she thought. That’s not going to work, then.

  She stepped back and sat down on her bunk. “This is such a beautiful boat. How did you come across it?”
/>   Carter furrowed his brow. “It belongs to a friend.”

  “He must be a very generous friend.”

  “Oh, he’s…never mind.”

  But Felicity had seen it, the softening of the eyes—for a fraction of a second. They’re lovers. Her mind worked feverishly, trying to decide what she might do with this information. She drew in a breath and said, “This boat is designed for…well, I think it’s designed for pleasure, maybe even love. How can you bear to see it used as a prison, as a place of threat…even murder?” She shrugged. “You’re a refined man, how is that possible?”

  Carter compressed his lips. “Miss Anderson, don’t try and worm your way into my conscience. Any refinement you see in me is an illusion. Nature, as you must know, is inherently predatory. Pleasure is the only thing that makes sense.”

  “But pleasure without loving relationships…well, surely that’s a lonely sterile thing.”

  “Oh, I’ve experienced love.” He laughed bitterly. “That was particularly predatory.” He stared at her, then stretched his neck. “You won’t talk about these things with me ever again, or I will allow Eddie to indulge his particular expressions of love. Is that clear?”

  Felicity didn’t trust herself to say anything. She hung her head and allowed her hair to hide her face. Terror prickled the silence.

  Carter’s tone then changed completely. “I’ve brought something that I want you to tell me about.” He reached down, picked up the shopping bag, and pulled something out of it.

  Felicity stared at the object Carter was holding. She had been totally unprepared for what she saw. Carter was holding the Atlantis stone.

  Felicity fought down an impulse to snatch it from him. Please, please handle it carefully. It represents the breakthrough of a lifetime…and it’s my link with Benjamin.

  “Oh, that,” she said, affecting a normalcy she did not feel. “I wondered where that had gone. I was quite pleased to have found it, but I haven’t had the chance to examine it carefully or tell anyone about it yet.”