The Atlantis Guard

by S. A. Beck

  A bullet cracked off the rock at her feet, sending painful shards into her leg.

  Where had that come from?

  The guy on the right had hustled up and lay at the top of the hill, firing along its length at her. All she had for protection was a thin rise of rock. She squeezed behind it as another bullet whizzed by.

  Desperately she looked around. Clear hillside all around. If she moved out of this meager shelter, she’d be dead in an instant.

  She was trapped.

  Daring another peek from behind her meager shield, she saw something that made her even more worried. The spotter was running into the valley with a high-powered rifle. As soon as he got into the right position, he’d be able to pick her off at leisure, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  Time to move.

  She switched the AK-47 to full auto, lifted it above the rock, and sprayed the hilltop with unaimed fire. Then she burst from her cover to sprint to a boulder some five yards away.

  She barely got to her feet before she had to throw herself back down again. The guy on the hilltop had guts. He hadn’t even dropped down at the burst and had waited for her to expose herself. It was a miracle she hadn’t been hit.

  Now she was in the same position as before. The rifleman in the valley wouldn’t take more than another ten, maybe fifteen seconds to get into position, and then it would be “Good night, Isadore.”

  A cry from the valley made her cock her head. That sounded like someone getting hit, but she hadn’t heard a gunshot.

  She peeked out from behind her shelter and had to duck back as the guy on the hilltop fired, but she had time to see enough. The rifleman in the valley lay on the ground, blood pouring from his head.

  The man on the hilltop fired again, but not at her.

  She glanced over at the other hill. Brett was dodging the bullets, leaping from side to side like a game of hopscotch, except each jump took him several feet. He moved erratically, not in a regular pattern, to keep the Russian from being able to hit him. Then Brett fell into a roll, leapt up with a rock in his hand, and threw it.

  It sailed across the valley almost too fast to see, ending its trajectory with a sickening crunch.

  Isadore peeked from behind her cover again. The Russian lay dead, his head a bloody pulp.

  “Did you get the other two?” Isadore called over.

  “Yes,” Brett called back. “The same way.”

  She got up and carefully surveyed the area. No one else seemed to be around, and the three on her hill were all dead.

  “Pity we couldn’t keep one for questioning,” she muttered.

  “I did,” Brett called over.

  Isadore gaped. How could he have heard that?

  “You did? How?”

  “I threw two rocks, one to break each arm.”

  “Of course. Silly question. Let’s go check him out.”

  Isadore reloaded her gun, shaking her head. A few more of these artificial Atlanteans running around, and she’d be out of a job. Once she’d loaded up, she trotted over to Brett’s position, and he led her to where the two Russians lay near the Land Rover. One was as dead as a doornail. The other lay moaning, both arms bent at unnatural angles.

  So Brett figured they should keep a prisoner. That showed initiative, something he hadn’t had at first. When he had originally been assigned to her, he was like a sleepwalker, but now some thoughts were going on behind that blank face. Isadore wondered how much more he would wake up.

  “Well, well, well,” Isadore said, coming up to the Russian and addressing him in his own language. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on and where your friends are, or I’m going to let my friend have fun with you.”

  Chapter 13

  AUGUST 15, 2016, A CELLAR SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF TIMBUKTU

  2:00 P.M.

  * * *

  Otto felt miserable. He’d compromised the mission. Not only were he and Dr. Yuhle prisoners, but Nadya and Dimitri had taken all their computers with all the data on the Atlanteans.

  And all because he’d been a lonely idiot who got easily seduced by a woman paying some attention to him.

  He wasn’t going to get any sympathy from Yuhle. Apparently while Otto was unconscious, Nadya had laughingly told the scientist about how he had screwed up. Now all Yuhle did was glare at him.

  They’d been stuck down here all day. Twice, a silent, burly guard with a blond buzz cut, no English, and a pistol strapped to his hip had come down to give them some food and water and let them relieve themselves in a bucket. He didn’t untie them, though, so eating and peeing had been done in a clumsy, embarrassing fashion that hadn’t improved Yuhle’s mood.

  “Look, we have to get out of here,” Otto said after the guard had left a second time. “I have a plan.”

  “Says the man dribbling down his pants leg,” Yuhle grumbled.

  “Hard to pee right when you can’t hold it, and having that guy open my fly was all the help I was going to ask for.”

  “Fair enough. So what’s your plan, genius?”

  “Let’s try to untie each other, and then we’ll get on either side of the door and make some noise. When the guard comes in, we’ll overpower him.”

  “Did you see that in a movie?”

  “Got any better ideas?” Otto snapped. He understood that Yuhle was angry, but they needed to find a way out of this mess.

  “Not really. Crawl over here.”

  Crawling wasn’t really an option with his legs tied together and his hands tied behind his back, so Otto rolled. Once he made it across the room, he examined Yuhle’s bonds. Like him, Yuhle was tied with thin, strong rope. His hands were swollen and white from having the circulation cut off, and livid red scratches became visible anytime the ropes moved a little. Otto was in pain too. Even if they did get the ropes off, it would be a while before they could stand or do anything with their hands.

  Already his own hands felt so numb he could barely move his fingers. There was no way he could untie Yuhle’s knots. So instead he had the geneticist turn around, and he tried gnawing at the rope with his teeth.

  First Otto tried to sink a canine tooth into the knot and work the knot free, but all that did was give him a toothache, so he settled with chewing at the rope. It was natural fiber, not plastic, and it slowly began to give way as he ground it between his teeth.

  “You’re slobbering all over me,” Yuhle grumbled.

  “Sorry.” Otto’s reply came out muffled thanks to his mouthful of rope.

  Otto’s teeth began to ache. His jaw grew sore, his lips chapped from the friction of the rope, but he could tell he was making progress.

  Even so, he had to take a break. His jaw was in agony. He hoped he didn’t break a tooth doing this.

  “Nadya mentioned that you and Dimitri were celebrating some big discovery. What was that?” he asked.

  “Well, I guess I can tell you. You’ll blab it to everybody, but since the Russians already know, it can’t do any harm.”

  “Come on,” Otto said, feeling hurt.

  “Don’t look to me for pity, kid. Dimitri and I discovered an old text talking about the healing water, giving the same legend we heard before about it being the original water on Earth before the Flood. This text was a bit different, though. It gave a location.”

  “Was it the same place we found in Mauritania?”

  “You mean the same place Jaxon found? I don’t recall you doing anything.”

  Otto turned away, feeling miserable. He’d lost Yuhle’s respect, something he didn’t realize he valued until he had lost it. If they ever got out of this alive, he’d lose everyone else’s respect too, Jaxon’s especially.

  There’s something to look forward to, he thought bitterly.

  Dr. Yuhle went on.

  “No, the well is right here in Mali, in an obscure bit of desert in the far north of the country. Back when Timbuktu was a big trading center for caravans crossing the Sahara and heading south into the bette
r lands, there were villages and caravanserai at all the oases.”

  “Caravanserai?” Otto asked.

  “They were like hotels for the caravans. You got shelter, food, feed for your animals, and a mosque to pray in. Most importantly, you got water.”

  “Sounds like a good business model,” Otto said and got back to chewing on Yuhle’s ropes.

  “It was. Some of them lasted for hundreds of years. Anyway, we found a mention of one of these healing wells right next to a caravanserai. The text named the place, and so now Dimitri is looking through old travelogues and business ledgers from the Middle Ages looking for references to this place. I’m sure it won’t take long until he finds the location. Most of these places have been identified by archaeologists.”

  Otto pulled back, wiping his mouth on his shoulder. He’d chewed through a bit more of the rope but still had a long way to go.

  “So they’d find the healing water. Maybe that’s what Dimitri was here looking for in the first place.”

  Yuhle nodded. “I think so. He’s obviously working for the Russian government. You were out cold, but I saw the arrangement they have upstairs when they dragged me in. Several guards, weapons, a satellite hookup for their computers, detailed maps of the region, the works. But I never heard any of the locals mention a large group of Russians living here, only Dimitri and your new girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend!”

  “Whatever. I’m thinking that only the two of them were here, looking for the healing water. Something made them bring a whole team down.”

  “Us showing up?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe something else we haven’t learned about yet.”

  The heavy footsteps of their guard on the stairs outside the locked door told them they were about to get another visit. Otto rolled back to his side of the room, and Yuhle turned his back against the wall.

  Otto made it into position an instant before the bolt on the outside of the door snapped open.

  The guard came in, this time with Nadya. The Russian woman blew Otto a kiss. Otto blushed. Yuhle glared. The guard, looking bored, lit a cigarette and stood by the door.

  “And how are my two friends doing today?” Nadya asked.

  “Peachy,” Yuhle said.

  Nadya’s brow furrowed. “I do not know that expression in English. I will assume it is sarcasm.”

  “Big time,” the geneticist replied.

  Nadya strolled over to Yuhle. Otto tensed. What if she checked the ropes tying his hands behind his back? He’d gnawed about a third of the way through. She would be sure to notice that.

  “Your computers are password protected with an excellent encryption system,” Nadya said.

  “Too bad we couldn’t encrypt Otto,” Yuhle growled.

  Nadya looked over her shoulder at Otto and treated him to a smile before turning back to Yuhle. “Do not judge him too harshly. He is a lonely, silly boy far from home, and I am a very attractive woman.”

  “Not on the inside,” Yuhle replied.

  “Give me the passwords to your computers.”

  Yuhle fixed her with a steady gaze. “No.”

  Nadya pulled a compact automatic pistol from her pocket, flicked off the safety, and pointed it at Otto.

  “Give me the passwords, or I will kill your young friend.”

  Yuhle paled, but he set his jaw, frowned, and shook his head.

  “What are you doing? Give her the passwords!” Otto shouted. He stared at the barrel of the gun, the dark little muzzle seeming to encompass his entire vision, like it was a black hole sucking him in.

  “I can’t,” Yuhle’s voice came out strained. “This is bigger than either of us. A whole people is in jeopardy.”

  Nadya shrugged. “Perhaps you do not value his life after what he did. That is reasonable, but I am sure you value yours.”

  She pointed the gun at Yuhle. The scientist flinched but, after a moment, sat up straighter.

  “No.”

  Nadya kicked him, making him fall on his side. She knelt with her knee on his neck and the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple.

  “You would rather die than give me the passwords?” she asked.

  Yuhle turned his eyes up to meet hers. “Kill me. You’re not getting those passwords.”

  Their gaze locked. It held for several long seconds. Otto watched, terrified and fascinated. Understanding seemed to flash between them. It looked almost intimate. Nadya nodded slowly and got up.

  “Yes, you would rather die than betray your friends,” she said in a voice made soft with respect. She turned to Otto and smiled. “You never know where you will find bravery. Here this little man with the glasses shows more bravery than many soldiers I have met. It is no matter. We have a computer hacker who can break into the computers remotely from Moscow. It will take time. Long enough for your friends to come looking for you and allow us to set a trap for them.”

  Without another word, she walked out of the room. The guard dropped his cigarette on the concrete floor, crushed it out with his boot, and followed, bolting the door behind him.

  Yuhle gasped where he lay on the floor, taking in great gulps of air, his body trembling all over. His glasses had fallen off. Otto rolled over to him.

  “Turn around,” he said. “We have to get out of here.”

  Yuhle sat up and turned around, still shaking, and Otto started to chew on the cords again.

  “Sorry,” Yuhle said.

  Otto pulled back. “For what?”

  “For telling her she could shoot you.”

  Otto slumped. “I messed up. I know that.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Yuhle said, shaking his head. “It’s bigger than you or me. I was willing to die too. Well, not exactly willing, but more willing to do that than live with the shame of betraying an entire race.”

  Otto remembered a story Yuhle had told him about his favorite uncle, a cop who had shot an unarmed black teen and bragged about it. And now here he was willing to sacrifice his life for a race most people didn’t even know existed. Meanwhile, Otto was flirting with the enemy and getting them all in trouble.

  Otto bit harder on the ropes, enraged with himself. Why did he have to be such a screwup? Just because he had parents who didn’t give a damn? He was born healthy and living in the First World, while all around him was poverty like he had never seen except on television and a race that his own government was trying to enslave. He didn’t have the right to self-pity, and he sure didn’t have the right to mess up the mission for everybody else.

  A loud crack and a sharp pain woke him up from his thoughts. He pulled back, felt around his teeth with his tongue. A little hard bit was on the tip of it. He spat it out and stared. A small piece of tooth lay on the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” Yuhle asked.

  “Nothing,” Otto muttered.

  He felt around his mouth with his tongue. Yeah, he’d chipped off a chunk of one of his incisors. Great. Now if he got out of this alive, he could look forward to a trip to the local dentist’s office. He hoped Novocain had made it to this part of the world.

  Shifting to the other side of his mouth, he continued to chew.

  Ten minutes later, he made it through the ropes, and Yuhle moved his arms with a contented sigh. Falling back exhausted and sore, he watched as the scientist shook off the remnants of the ropes, put on his glasses with fumbling hands, and stared at Otto.

  “Your mouth is all bloody.”

  “I believe it.”

  Yuhle flexed his fingers and shook his hands, trying to get the circulation back in them. After a minute, he worked on the ropes that tied his legs.

  “Hurry up. If they come down now, we’re sunk,” Otto said.

  “I’m trying, but I can barely feel my hands, and the only thing I can feel is pain.”

  After a minute, he finally got the knot untied. Then he got to work on Otto. After a couple of minutes, he was free. Otto rubbed his wrists and hands, trying to get the blood to flow
back into them.

  “Good job,” Yuhle said, standing up. His legs were so cramped that he had to lean on the wall for support. “Now all we have to deal with is a locked door and several trained killers.”

  “Piece of cake,” Otto said with a sigh.

  They both looked around the small cellar. It had been completely cleaned out, and there was nothing they could use as a weapon. Otto picked up a length of rope about three feet long and held it, feeling lame. Grunt could probably kill a dozen ninjas with it. God, he missed that guy.

  “So now what?” Otto asked Yuhle. He had a piece of rope in his hands too.

  “We need to get out of here and either get away with the computers or destroy them before the Russians kill us. We can’t let them get that information. Dr. Yamazaki’s computer, and mine too, have the entire Atlantean genetic sequence on them, not to mention the location of the well Jaxon found, all the pictures we took of it, and the contact information of all the people who have helped us.”

  “Like that old professor outside Tucson?”

  “Exactly. You want him to get killed too?”

  “No, let’s do this.”

  Yuhle looked at a loss. “How?”

  “We can pretend to get in an argument. Start shouting at me about messing up with Nadya, and I’ll start swearing back at you.”

  Yuhle snorted. “That only works in the movies.”

  “Well, we have to get them down here somehow.”

  Yuhle looked uncertainly at the door. “Let’s start shouting for help, like we’re panicking. Actually, only you do that. It will be more believable from you. Once you start, I’ll shout at you to shut up.”

  Otto sighed, his heart beating fast. “All right, but one thing.”

  “What?”

  “If you get out alive and I don’t, don’t tell them how I messed up.”

  Yuhle studied him a moment. His scowl softened a little. “All right.”

  Otto turned to the door and bellowed, “Help! Help us! They’ve taken us prisoner! Call the police!”

  Yuhle backed away so he’d be behind the door when it opened. Otto had another thought and got down on the ground, winding the rope around his feet and putting his hands behind his back. He kicked the door with his feet.