And as an added bonus, it upset his ex-wife tremendously.
While it did make a small part of him ecstatic, he no longer held any ill will toward his ex. They had parted on reasonable terms, but his son’s refusal to have anything to do with him for years had created a resentment within that he blamed on her. It probably wasn’t fair, though it was easier to blame her than himself for not making enough of an effort.
You were the father, he was the child.
He smiled at his son, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Thank Jim and Laura. This was actually their idea.” He scanned the sparse crowd, coming up empty. “Speaking of, where the bloody hell are they?”
“Maybe they’re just late.”
Reading grunted, heading toward the terminal. “Those two are probably at the bottom of the ocean, exploring their little find, having completely forgotten about the likes of us.”
“What did they find?”
Reading shrugged. “They wouldn’t tell me. Too secret to say over the phone, apparently. The photo they sent looked like some sort of ancient underwater building. Whatever it is, Jim seemed as excited as I’ve ever heard him, and with the things those two have discovered since I’ve known them, that’s saying something.”
Spencer rubbed his hands together. “Nazi gold?”
Reading tossed his head back and groaned. “Oh, don’t get me started on that. You know, just a couple of months back, they found a bunch of Nazi gold, but that wasn’t even the most valuable thing. They found something called the Amber Room.”
Spencer glanced at him. “I’ve heard of that thing. Why didn’t it make the news?”
“Because it was stolen again.”
Spencer’s eyes shot up. “How?”
“Fancy trucks that can disguise themselves.”
“Huh? Like Transformers?”
Reading laughed. “No, I mean curtainsiders with some sort of technology that allowed them to change the advertising.”
“Oh, you mean PLED displays?”
Reading’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Polymer Light Emitting Diodes. Basically, they interweave OLED tech into fabric, and can display a video image on it. Completely flexible and holds up to the usual wear and tear. They’re already making clothing from it. Cool stuff.”
Reading smiled at his son, impressed. “How do you know about this stuff?”
Spencer shrugged. “When I get my first paycheck, I want to buy the biggest, baddest TV I can afford, so I’ve been doing some research. Stumbled upon some stories about it. Great if I want my pants to play a movie, but kind of useless for the wall of my flat.” He eyed his father. “So, what happened to the gold?”
“I buried as much of it as I could, but I have to wait a while, because I’m probably being watched.”
His son’s jaw dropped. “Really!”
Reading gave him a gentle slap on the back of his head. “Of course not, you daft bastard. What kind of a man do you think I am?”
“Not a rich one, apparently.”
Reading chuckled, continuing to scan those gathered. “Speaking of rich, I still don’t see our benefactors.”
Spencer nodded. “Neither do I. What should we do?”
“Well, like I said, they’re eggheads, so they probably lost track of time.” He fished out his phone then dialed Acton’s number. It went directly to voicemail. “Hey, it’s us, get your arses out of the water and come pick us up!” He hung up and repeated the message on Laura’s voicemail, though with a much politer delivery. “Neither are answering, so they’re probably a hundred meters under. Let’s just get our luggage and head to the hotel. Maybe we’ll bump into them there.”
He gave one last look about the airport before entering the terminal, wondering why he didn’t spot Laura’s private jet, nothing parked matching the distinctive paint job sported by her lease-share network.
Could they have left?
16
Aldeia das Adegas Hotel
Sao Roque, Azores
Hugh Reading handed one of the hotel keycards to his son. “Are our friends here? They were supposed to meet us at the airport, but didn’t.”
“Names?”
“They would have made the reservations. James Acton and Laura Palmer.”
The desk clerk tapped away at her computer then shook her head. “No, I have them out since this morning.”
Reading frowned. “Are there any messages for us?”
More tapping. “I’m afraid not.”
Reading’s frown deepened. “Do you know where we might find them?”
The clerk regarded him for a moment. “Well, normally we’re not supposed to say, but since the reservations were all made at once, you’re clearly friends. I know we rented a vehicle for them, and I overheard them talking about diving this morning.”
“Where might they go for that?”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid you can do that pretty much anywhere. I can get you a list of places that rent equipment.”
Reading nodded. “Do that. We’ll be up in our room.”
“Yes, sir.”
Reading and Spencer headed for their room, saying nothing, Reading’s cop mind racing with the worst-case scenarios, as his two friends usually warranted it. Spencer unlocked the door and they stepped inside, Reading momentarily forgetting the current situation as he shook his head, the room way out of his budget.
Spencer grinned. “I love that you have rich friends!” He stared at the two beds. “Too bad they didn’t get us a suite.”
Reading gave him a look. “Don’t be greedy. And besides, if they could, I’m sure they would have. My guess is the hotel either doesn’t have them, or they were all booked.”
Spencer tossed his bag on the bed nearest the window. “Hey, I was thinking. They sent you that photo from one of their cellphones, right?”
Reading nodded. “Jim’s.”
“Can I see it?”
Reading handed him his phone and his son’s thumbs attacked the display. Spencer grinned, handing it back to him, a map displayed with a red dot in the middle.
“That’s where it was taken.”
Reading’s eyes narrowed. “How the hell do you know that?”
“Easy. Most people don’t realize it, but when you take a photo, unless you’ve changed your settings, it geotags it and stores the location in the metadata.”
“English, you bastard.”
Spencer laughed. “When you take the photo, it stores the GPS coordinates as part of the data.” He gestured toward the phone showing the map. “That’s where it was taken.”
Reading stared at the indicator, surrounded by blue. “According to this, it was taken in the water, which makes sense.” He zoomed out slightly and smiled when the coast of the Azores was revealed. “Let’s show this to our clerk. She should be able to tell us what dive shops are near there.” He put his arm around his son’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “You’re going to make one hell of a copper.”
17
Over the Atlantic
“You’re sure your brother won’t mind?”
Tark Gerald shrugged at Oswald “Spud” Fletcher. “So what if he does? I’m family, and we need to keep those two out of sight.”
Tark buried his head back behind a magazine, leaving Spud to once again look at the posh surroundings they now found themselves in. He had never been on a private jet before, and it was a life he could get used to, though it would be rather hypocritical if he did. He had joined Step Back Now seven years ago, shortly after it had been formed by Gavin Thatcher, and deeply believed in the cause, though for perhaps different reasons than some of the others.
He was chronically unemployed.
And not by choice.
He wanted to work. He struggled to, but as his mother had always said, he didn’t “have it all upstairs.” He was stupid. He couldn’t handle math, he could barely read and write, and he just couldn’t concentrate long enough to learn anything useful. He’d had scores of jobs o
ver the years, but few lasted beyond the first week, his employers quickly realizing that eagerness wasn’t enough.
When he had bumped into Thatcher on the streets of Liverpool, he had shared his story, and rather than offer advice, Thatcher had given him something better.
A reason.
Computers.
Machines were taking over the world, leaving some people behind, like him. In the days of old, manual labor was in high demand. Shoveling dirt or shit, it didn’t matter. A man with a good set of hands and a strong back could always find work.
But not today.
Machines took care of all that. Now all the jobs required the one thing he didn’t have—brains. Thatcher had invited him to a speech he was giving, and since he was unemployed, he gave him a listen.
It had changed his life.
Machines were the problem.
Technology was the problem.
Rid the world of these things, and people like him could have a future. He wanted to destroy every single computer that was out there, though that wasn’t Step Back Now’s goal. Thatcher and most of the others realized that it wasn’t the machines that were evil, it was the way they were used. People were forgetting their humanity because of the way they used the technology. Mankind—or peoplekind as he had heard some idiot refer to what most people concerned of such things would have called humankind—would never rid itself of technology, so he’d probably be condemned to the life in which he found himself trapped.
Though it wasn’t that bad a life anymore.
When he had finished school, his friends had all moved on, even the lowlifes had jobs. He had been trapped in the same house he had grown up in, constantly berated by his mother, and smacked around by his father every time he came home, fired again.
But now he had friends. Friends who believed in something, and who helped him through not only giving him something to do, even if that was just handing out fliers or holding a gun, but somewhere to live instead of with his parents, and companionship that he hadn’t felt in years. Step Back Now was his new family, they were his brothers and sisters, and he would do anything for them.
But kill?
He stared over at their prisoners, as everyone pretended to be business associates so as to not raise the suspicions of the crew of three that manned the plane. Could he kill them if it became necessary? He had never fired a gun in his life. He had thrown plenty of punches, let loose some great kicks, and prided himself on being able to take both—perhaps a few too many to his head when he was younger might explain some things. But kill? No one had ever talked about killing people. That had never been part of the plan.
Never.
They were trying to save mankind. That was why they as a whole had nothing against computers or machines that actually helped people, like medical devices. They didn’t want babies dying because incubators were some evil technology. Again, it was how it was used that was their concern. Was it used for good? Or was it used to avoid human interaction? The latter was what they were fighting. Human interaction was what he craved, and it was what everyone should crave.
Human interaction.
He stood.
Tark looked up at him. “Where are you going?”
“Just stretching my legs and taking a leak.”
“Well, make it quick. We’re landing in Portugal any minute now, and I don’t want to waste a second we don’t have to.”
Spud frowned. “Yeah, yeah.” He hated how Tark sometimes treated him like a child. He headed for the rear of the plane then took care of business. He freshened up in the small bathroom, then stepped out, feeling a lot more at ease. As he passed the two prisoners, he couldn’t resist the urge, and instead of returning to his seat, he sat across from them.
“Why were you there?”
The man looked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Under the water. Why were you there?”
“None of your business.”
Spud tensed, his chest tightening as a rage inside took form. He hated being disrespected. He hated being ignored. He was a person, and deserved better. He tapped his weapon. “You should be more polite, or that woman of yours could get hurt.”
The man was about to respond with what Spud was certain would be a threat, when the woman wisely cut him off with a hand and a response. “We’re archaeologists. We found something under the water that we were exploring.”
All was forgotten, and Spud’s eyes widened in excitement as he leaned forward. “Really? You’re archaeologists, like Indiana Jones?”
She jerked a thumb at her partner. “He’s more Indiana, I’m more Lara Croft.”
Spud grinned, his eyes darting to her chest for a moment then back to her face.
Definitely not old Lara. New Lara maybe.
“So what did you find?”
“Just an old city.”
“Cool!” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, you weren’t far from shore. How come nobody else ever found it?”
The man sighed. “The earthquake shifted the seabed, revealing it.”
Spud nodded slowly as he processed this new piece of information. “So another earthquake could bury it again?”
The woman shook her head. “More likely it would slide down deeper.”
Spud scratched behind his ear. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
The woman put her two index fingers together in the form of the top of a triangle. “The Azores is just a cluster of mountains that happen to be volcanos. Over millions of years they erupted on the ocean floor, and just like volcanos on land, slowly got higher and higher, until eventually they broke the surface of the ocean.”
Spud curled his leg up under him. “That’s incredible. I had no idea!”
“Most of the islands in the oceans are actually volcanos, like the Hawaiian Islands.”
Spud’s jaw dropped. “So what you’re saying is that if there’s another earthquake, the city you found could slide farther down the mountain, toward the ocean floor.”
“Exactly.”
His eyes widened. “That’s why everything was on an angle when we were working! We were on the side of an underwater mountain!”
The man stared at him. “What were you doing?”
Spud froze, realizing he had said too much, but dying to ask one last question, not remembering the last time he had held a real conversation with people, especially people who were clearly this intelligent. “Umm, you said an earthquake could cause the city to slide farther down the mountain. Ahh, what about an explosion?”
Both their eyes widened, and the man leaned in. “Why? What have you done?”
Spud shook his head, panic setting in. “Nothing, nothing, I swear. I’m just curious, umm, there’s a military base there, isn’t there? You know, explosions from that.” He mentally patted himself on the back for the recovery.
The man leaned back, not looking convinced. “If the explosion were big enough, it could trigger another landslide that could send the city sliding to the bottom of the ocean, and beyond our reach.”
Spud leaped from his seat. “Yeah, umm, well, thanks for the chat.”
The man leaned forward. “If you people are planning on setting off a bomb, then you need to stop what you’re doing. You could destroy the most significant archaeological find in the history of mankind.”
Spud stared at him for a moment. “Wh-what did you find?”
The two archaeologists exchanged glances, and the woman nodded. The man stared up at him.
“Atlantis.”
18
Professor Ampheres’ Residence
Atlantis
Before the fall
Senior Enforcer Kleito motioned for her men to spread out, the pedestrians already blocked, crowds gathering at either end of the street. Nothing annoyed her more than onlookers. Too often, it meant people complaining about excessive use of force, when they had no clue what was actually going on, or shouted questions or protests that tipped off whomever they were after. If it was up to her, she
’d arrest anyone who risked her people.
Though the courts wouldn’t allow it. Freedom of speech. Too often, it was a notion she disagreed with, but then, how often had she questioned her own political masters in private?
The ground shook again, prompting more questions as she tried to maintain her balance.
If this keeps up, I’m buying a boat.
She loved the sea, a significant portion of her youth spent on friends’ boats, sailing around the island nation, or paddling up and down the extensive canals that crisscrossed the city, but she had never been able to afford one of her own. Wood was expensive, a small boat a luxury even for those of means.
And an Enforcer was not someone of means.
She wanted for nothing, her salary decent, even more so since the promotion, but after paying for a roof over her head and food for her belly, there was little left over for luxuries. Yet these earthquakes had her wondering if the conspiracy nuts were right this time.
Shouts from behind the block of homes lining the street in front of her, had her motioning for silence as she cocked an ear.
“They’re getting away!”
She cursed at the shouted warning from behind the home, and stormed toward the front door of Professor Ampheres’ residence. She kicked it open, the door splintering at the bolt. She rushed into the modest home, her team following her as they pushed through the house, each room checked by the others as she continued through to the back, the door ajar. She looked to the left then the right, and cursed, two of the men she had sent to cover the back, sprinting after someone.
“Let’s go!” She took off after them, the pounding feet of her men echoing in the alleyway behind the row of houses. One of her men overtook her then slowed. She glared at him. “Don’t you dare slow down for me!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Atlantis Lost Page 6