The Atlantis Code

by Charles Brokaw

  Then loud grinding filled the cavern.

  All the men looked nervous. No one knew for certain about the integrity of the walls, and none of them could forget about the merciless sea waiting somewhere outside.

  Stalactites fell from the cavern roof and caused a minor furor as they exploded against the stone floor and splashed in the remaining pools of water. One of the stalactites smashed against the protective cage of the earthmover.

  Startled, the driver put his foot too hard on the accelerator. The machine roared backwards, struggled against the weight of the door, and finally found traction. Then the cable snapped and flicked across three of the workers. They fell like rag dolls and bled furiously.

  But the massive door swung open.

  CHAPTER

  22

  CAVE #42

  ATLANTIS BURIAL CATACOMBS

  CÁDIZ, SPAIN

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2009

  T

  he screams of the wounded men filled the cavern and barely penetrated the sense of unreality that flooded Father Sebastian’s mind. Ignoring the huge door now several feet ajar and filled with the inky blackness of the dark cave, he went to help the nearest man lashed by the snapping cable.

  Brancati yelled at his workers to tend to the men as well, then joined them as first-aid kits arrived. It was a brutal, bloody business for several minutes.

  Thankfully, none of the men had been killed outright. Given the situation, it could have been so much worse.

  That no one died . . . The Lord was at work here to save them all, Sebastian thought. May His mercy reign over us all as we proceed.

  After he’d finished his work with the wounded, he cleaned his hands with a sterile cloth. He’d refused to wait until gloves were available to begin giving first aid. By the time the workers had passed out surgical gloves, he’d already attended to several of the most serious injuries.

  “Do you believe in evil portents, Father?” Brancati asked.

  “I believe in all that proceeds from the hand of the Lord,” Sebastian answered. “But I also believe in accidents. The men here are tired, stressed out from everything we have dealt with. We must proceed carefully.”

  “I agree.” Brancati passed Sebastian one of the big flashlights the men carried in addition to their helmet lights. The construction boss led the way into the next chamber.

  Sebastian stayed close behind. The two Swiss Guards assigned to his personal protection flanked him.

  The next cave was even larger than the last. It was a gaping maw of stone. Stalactites and stalagmites looked like wicked teeth as the flashlight beams swept across them. The cavern was dry, indicating that the chamber had been airtight until they’d opened the door.

  “Maybe we’d better let the cave breathe a little while, Father,” Brancati suggested. “In case the change in air pressure creates a problem like it did in the last cave.”

  Sebastian made himself nod. He didn’t want to leave the room, but he knew that was safest.

  “Father Sebastian,” a man called.

  Sebastian turned toward the voice. He spotted two men playing their flashlights over an inscription carved into the wall. Drawn by the words, he made his way over to them.

  Again, for a moment, the words were almost impossible to make out. Sebastian squinted and tried again. This time he saw the message.

  MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE UNTO THE LORD

  Sebastian couldn’t understand the message, but he could read it. He stared at it for a long time, then turned and surveyed the huge cavern again.

  “Over here!” someone else yelled. “Father Sebastian, over here!”

  Hurrying to the voice, aided by his flanking Swiss Guards, Sebastian found a long line of walls that had been chipped smooth then engraved with pictures. The engravings were spaced like the leaves of a giant stone book. The intricate work represented several lifetimes of effort by the people who had carved it.

  The first picture was of a huge forest. A man and a woman stood naked in a clearing. Numerous animals lay at their feet or watched from nearby. Birds filled the branches of the trees around them.

  “Blessed Mother,” Sebastian whispered. Hypnotized by what he saw before him, he stepped forward and ran his trembling fingers over the beautifully carved surface.

  “What is this?” Brancati asked quietly.

  “It’s the Garden of Eden,” Sebastian croaked. “Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.”

  Several of the men crossed themselves and took off their protective helmets till Brancati growled at them to put them back on.

  “Are you trying to tell me that this place was the Garden of Eden?” Brancati asked.

  “No,” Sebastian said. “This place wasn’t the Garden of Eden. This place was a part of Atlantis. Or whatever the people who we know as Atlanteans called themselves.”

  “Why carve these pictures into the walls?”

  “So they wouldn’t forget. So they wouldn’t follow Adam and Eve into folly.” Sebastian shone his light farther back and found another picture. This one showed God’s hand fashioning Adam from clay.

  “The whole story is here,” Peter said. “These images tell the biblical story of creation.”

  “Is this God?” Martin asked reverently.

  Sebastian strode through the twists and turns of the cavern and found another man standing in front of a picture of Adam and Eve in the jungle. In the drawing, a second man stood nearby the couple. He held a thick book in one hand. A glowing halo hung over his head.

  “No,” Sebastian said. “It’s not God.”

  “Then who is it?” Martin asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I think that’s His son.”

  OUTSIDE CÁDIZ, SPAIN

  SEPTEMBER 13, 2009

  Hunched over the notebook computer, Cardinal Stefano Murani studied the streaming video coming out of the dig site only a few miles away. He’d arranged the safe house in case he needed a bolt-hole. It was one of the small houses in the area that were sometimes rented out to tourists. It didn’t afford him the kind of luxury that he was accustomed to, but it was within a few miles of the Cádiz dig site and the Atlantic Ocean.

  When he saw the pictures deep within the center of the new cave beyond the massive metal door, Murani watched with growing excitement. Sebastian had gotten close to the goal the pope had hoped he would reach.

  Are these wall carvings illustrations from the Book? Murani asked himself. He flicked through the captured images. The work that had gone into the finished pieces was astounding.

  The answer, for the moment, was that he didn’t know. He needed to be inside the caves.

  His cell phone chirped for attention. He flipped it open and answered. “Yes.”

  “We’ll be there in five minutes or less,” Gallardo said.

  “I’ll see you then.” Murani closed the phone, disconnected the computer from the Internet, and shut it down. He walked to the front door and passed the security setups the Swiss Guard who had chosen to follow him had put into place. Cameras watched over the surrounding terrain.

  Lieutenant Milo Sbordoni sat in a chair on the covered porch. In his thirties, Sbordoni was a handsome man with chiseled features and a fierce black goatee that flipped up on the end. Like the other guardsmen under his command, Sbordoni wore tactical armor festooned with weapons. There had been no doubt they would take over the Cádiz dig site after Gallardo had Lourds.

  “Cardinal.” Sbordoni got to his feet. Oil glistened on the pistol and rifle he carried.

  “It’s time,” Murani said.

  “Good,” Sbordoni said. He smiled, then passed orders to his men to assemble.

  The Swiss Guard rose to readiness. They passed out even more weapons. A large cargo truck out on the street rumbled to life.

  “I’ll need a word with your men,” Murani said.

  Sbordoni quickly gave the command. The men assembled around Murani. Due to their size and the armor they wore, Murani stood dwarfed among them. Still, they acknowledged his off
ice and stood quietly while he addressed them.

  “You are my brothers in arms,” Murani said. “You are the best that the Swiss Guard at the Vatican has to offer. More than that, you have also recognized the holiness of God’s Word in ways that many of those in that place have forgotten.

  “The Church has grown weak. We must strengthen her.” Murani paused. “Some of you for years have known about the Society of Quirinus and how the cardinals in that group have chosen to work with the past popes to recover things that have been lost over the last thousands of years. A few of you who have been blessed by God have gotten a chance to assist in locating and taking custody of some of those things.”

  Those men nodded. Sbordoni was among them. All of them carried scars from those battles. The Church wasn’t the only entity that searched for powerful artifacts. And the Society of Quirinus hadn’t always succeeded in obtaining what it sought. At times the treasures had been lost again, or had fallen into enemy hands.

  “What we’re after tonight is the most important artifact God has ever delivered to his chosen people,” Murani said. “It has the power to remake the world.”

  Sbordoni’s eyes met Murani. The Swiss Guard lieutenant nodded in anticipation.

  “It was used once before,” Murani said. “By unbelievers and those corrupt with the lust for power. They wanted to be like God.” He paused. “This is God’s holiest work, and it must be used by those who love God. I know you love God as I love God. Together, we will make this world once more into the place that God intended for it to be.”

  “Praise God,” Sbordoni said.

  Murani asked them to bow their heads while he prayed to Mary for her protection.

  Lourds sat bound in the canopy-covered back of a truck. His head felt like a balloon, and he was groggy from the aftereffects of the drug he’d been given.

  Beside him, Leslie looked bleary-eyed as well. “Where are we?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” Lourds swept his gaze over the night-darkened coastline visible through the opening at the rear of the truck. Moonlight shone on the rolling waves. “Near the sea.”

  “When did they get you?” Leslie licked her lips and tested the handcuffs.

  “After they got you,” Lourds told her. “They told me they’d kill you if I didn’t come to them.”

  “Your new girlfriend didn’t stop them?”

  Lourds sighed. Being taken captive was dangerous enough, but being held captive with a young woman with an axe to grind over amorous misadventures was worse.

  The drug she’d been given had caused her to talk while she’d been unconscious. She hadn’t been generous in her references to Lourds. The offensive comments had provided tremendous entertainment to Gallardo’s minions. Lourds was just thankful he hadn’t recovered much earlier than she had.

  “I’m not the only thing they used you to get. Gallardo called and told me if I didn’t give him the instruments, he was going to kill you.”

  “You gave them the instruments?” she shrieked.

  “Yes. Gallardo meant it. That part about killing you, I mean.”

  “I bet that didn’t go over well with the new girlfriend. The part about you giving up the instruments for me.”

  “Natasha isn’t my new girlfriend,” Lourds said.

  “Don’t tell me she decided to just use you and lose you?” Leslie feigned sympathy.

  “Why are you worried about my love life?” Lourds held up his manacled wrists. “Has it occurred to you that we might be in some trouble here?”

  “You have a point.” Leslie took a look around at the hard faces of the men guarding them. “Okay. You’re right. The good thing is that they haven’t killed us.”

  “That,” Lourds said, “might not be as good a thing as you think.”

  ______

  After the truck rolled to a stop, one of the men grabbed a fistful of Lourds’s shirt and yanked him to his feet. The man hauled Lourds to the rear of the truck, then over the tailgate. It hurt like fury.

  His captors didn’t seem to be too worried about bruising the merchandise.

  Lourds tripped and fell heavily to the ground, his breath rushing out of his lungs. Spots whirled in front of his eyes. Before he had a chance to recover, the man in charge of him yanked him roughly to his feet. Pain burned through Lourds’s wrists. He pushed himself upright as quickly as he could.

  An elegant man in cardinal’s robes stepped in front of Lourds. A small army bristling with weapons stood behind him.

  “Professor Lourds,” the man said. “I’m Cardinal Stefano Murani.” He smiled.

  The priest’s expression sent chills down Lourds’s spine.

  “Under the circumstances, I can’t say this introduction is exactly a pleasure,” Lourds said.

  Leslie pressed in close to him. In the face of so many foes, she wasn’t quite so unforgiving of his past trespasses in the boudoir.

  “Not a pleasure at all,” Murani said. “But you have been something of a surprise. A pleasant surprise for me, but I’m afraid it could end unpleasantly for you.”

  Lourds didn’t say anything, but cold, unrelenting fear wormed through his stomach.

  “Have you figured out the riddle of the instruments?” Murani asked.

  “No.”

  Murani raised his voice. “Lieutenant Sbordoni.”

  A lean man with a jutting goatee stepped forward and unlimbered a pistol. “Cardinal?”

  “The woman, I think,” Murani said.

  Immediately the man raised the pistol to point at Leslie. Lourds stepped between the pistol and Leslie. She gripped his shirt and held him firmly in place in front of her. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Lourds had hoped for, but he couldn’t blame her.

  The bearded lieutenant Murani had called Sbordoni barked an order. Two men stepped forward and grabbed Leslie. She yelled, kicked, and screamed as they pulled her away.

  “Thou shalt not kill!” Lourds shouted. “That’s one of the top ten edicts from God, isn’t it?”

  Murani’s soldiers pressed Leslie to the ground. The lieutenant stood over her with his pistol aimed point-blank into her face.

  “That commandment is not applicable when soldiers have to go out and fight holy wars for God,” Murani said. “And this is a war. You have become our enemy. God will forgive us the trespasses we make in His name today. We’re here to rid the world of evil. The instruments you located are our weapons.” He stared at Leslie on the ground. She’d curled into a fetal position, but her hands over her face wouldn’t stop bullets. “You will help us. I’m willing to have the girl killed to prove to you how serious I am in this regard.”

  “I haven’t figured out the riddle of the instruments,” Lourds said as truthfully as he could. There hadn’t been a riddle in what he’d translated yet. “I’m still working on the inscription. I’ve got most of it. But there’s no mention of a riddle.”

  Murani looked at him.

  “I swear to you,” Lourds said. “I’ll help you do whatever you want to do. I don’t want her to die. I don’t want to die either.” Blood roared in his ears as his heart hammered frantically. “I’ll try again. That’s the best that I can do.”

  The cardinal stared fixedly. Finally, when Lourds was growing more certain that Murani was going to have Leslie killed anyway, Murani looked at the lieutenant and said, “Bring her along.”

  Thank God, Lourds thought. He let out a breath. Somehow, it didn’t seem to ease the tightness in his chest.

  “Load them into the truck,” Murani commanded.

  Hard hands grabbed Lourds again. He gritted his teeth against the pain and endured.

  Once more seated in the uncomfortable confines of a truck, Lourds sat on the metal deck between two long benches of the black-suited warriors. He believed the men were Swiss Guards, and that they hailed from Rome. He’d deduced most of that from the conversations he’d overheard.

  A short length of chain connected Lourds’s manacles to the truck bed. No running to safety t
his time. He rocked and surged as the truck traveled over the uneven terrain.

  Flaps hung across the rear opening of the truck kept most of the view outside at bay, but there was enough sway to the journey they were on to occasionally open them to the view outside. The course they were on shadowed the coastline. Lourds’s attention was torn between Leslie, Murani, and watching for landmarks he could use to let police know where they were.

  Leslie sat beside Lourds. Her body bumped softly against his and brought back memory of more pleasant times. It also reminded Lourds how vulnerable Leslie was.

  Despite the apparent willingness of these men to kill for Cardinal Murani, Lourds didn’t think they would rape Leslie. At least she was safe from that. He hoped. Gallardo and his crew sat among the guardsmen, too. Their hot gazes often traveled to Leslie. Lourds found it uncomfortably easy to read their intentions.

  “Thomas.”

  Lourds looked at Leslie. “Yes?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry.” Unshed tears glimmered in her eyes.

  “For what?” Lourds felt sorry for her. She hadn’t been trained for something like this. Neither had he. Truthfully, he felt sorry for both of them.

  “For being such a bitch.”

  “Look, the night with Natasha . . .” Lourds stopped, unsure what to say. The night with Natasha had been incredibly wonderful. So had the nights with Leslie. But he didn’t think he owed anyone an apology. He’d been up front with his intentions the whole time. He liked women. He wasn’t ready to settle down with any one woman. And he hadn’t pursued either of the women. They’d made themselves available.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

  Lourds relaxed. A little. Sometimes when women faced trying or difficult times, they said things they thought they were supposed to say but not what they truly felt. He’d learned that the hard way.