He took off past her, a couple of the other men doing the same, and it prompted her to redouble her efforts, though her shorter legs were no match for her colleagues. It was an annoyance, but one she could do nothing about, and there was no point complaining about things beyond her control.
She reached the canal to find her team gasping for breath, staring out at the water, two of them sitting on the ground, their faces bloodied.
“What in the name of the gods happened?”
The senior of the two began to struggle to his feet when she waved him off. He smiled gratefully, instead wiping at a seeping wound on his forehead. “When we reached the alley we saw several men running toward the canal with a woman and three children. The suspect’s rear door was open, and since the report said he had a wife and three children, we assumed it was his family. We shouted our warning in the hopes you would hear it, and gave chase. As we neared, the men stopped and assaulted us. I’m sorry, ma’am, but we were outnumbered. They bested us, though we got some good blows in, let me tell you, but it was enough to slow us down, and by the time we resumed our pursuit, they had reached the canal and escaped in a waiting boat.” His head sagged. “I’m sorry we failed you, ma’am.”
She frowned at the two, then stared at the water. “This was well-coordinated, by the look of things. I’m sure you did everything you could.” She redirected her attention to their wounds. “Get yourselves tended to, then when the doctors clear you, return to the station. I want descriptions of the men, and the boat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Several of her team helped them to their feet, leading them away as she stepped to the edge of the canal, shaking her head. “Why would they run?”
“Ma’am?”
She glanced at her second-in-command, not having meant to speak aloud. “Just thinking. The family ran, with the help of others. What happened at the Senate wasn’t even an hour ago, yet they escaped, with the help of others, who had a boat at their disposal of sufficient size to carry what, ten people?” She shook her head. “That would suggest that Professor Ampheres had planned on stealing Poseidon’s Trident all along, but if that were the case, then why not send his family into hiding before he even left?” She growled in frustration. “There’s more going on here than we’ve been made privy to. Somebody else is involved.” She spun on her heel, turning to her remaining men. “Send out dispatches. I want the entire city looking for Professor Ampheres and his family. And find me that boat. Somebody must have seen something.”
19
Beja, Portugal
Present Day
One of the advantages, and in rare occasions, disadvantages, of private jets was that they used private terminals. And the security at these was extremely lax compared to the main terminals. It meant that weapons were easily smuggled, especially when personal concierges familiar with the airport staff were whisking their customers through. Searches were rare when the clients were as wealthy as Laura was, which Acton found a convenience, but today, it meant no opportunity to have their captors disarmed by heavily armed security.
In fact, he saw none at the small Portuguese airport they had just landed in. Within minutes, they were in an insult to British innovation, an SUV with a malfunctioning air conditioner and a dash that kept beeping a warning that the owner had bought the wrong car. It was driven by someone he assumed was their lead captor’s brother, and the introductions had finally given him names.
Tark and Spud.
Spud seemed almost a simpleton to him, and Tark often showed him little patience. The near childlike wonder displayed during their short conversation on the airplane reminded him of when elementary students would come for a tour of the university. Their questions and jaw-dropping reactions were painfully cute.
In children.
He realized that not everyone was smart. That’s why there were measurements like IQ. The median Intelligent Quotient for humans was 100. That meant that half of all humans were above that number, but it also meant that half were below. Spud seemed room temperature. It was sad, really, and probably explained why he had fallen in with criminals, criminals about to explode something near their discovery.
But what? What could they possibly want to destroy under the water off the coast of the Azores? It was literally the middle of nowhere. And if their discovery was indeed Atlantis, which he still had serious doubts about, it might explain exactly why the Atlanteans had chosen to settle there. There would have been no indigenous population, and they could have developed in isolation, without worrying about outside cultures trying to destroy them. They could have focused on peaceful development, rather than constantly preparing for it.
He sometimes wondered what the world would be like if half of it weren’t at war, or preparing for war. Every year, the world collectively spent over one trillion dollars on military and intelligence, with the United States accounting for more than half that number. What if just half of that trillion were devoted to science? What diseases could be cured, what problems like poverty or hunger could be solved?
But that was a pipe dream.
With the Chinese and Russians determined to become more dominant than the United States, and with one religion determined to rule them all, he didn’t see any future where mankind could live in peace. Hell, even his own country was being torn apart, divided into camps that refused to even listen to the others. Western civilization had devolved into us versus them, right and wrong, with no tolerance for anything in between. Too many people felt that if you didn’t agree with their point of view, you weren’t just wrong, you were evil.
It was a new development, something he had observed catching on in the past decade, and he blamed social media. When Facebook, Twitter, and other platforms, allowed you to seek out like-minded individuals around the world, instead of in your own community, then become friends with them, you quickly found yourself surrounded by parrots who agreed with everything you said. The platforms then added new “features” that provided you with news stories and posts that they felt would be things you’d be interested in based on your own posts and past “likes.”
It was all designed to make you happy, and when you were happy, you stayed on their platform, saw their advertisements, and the companies made money. But the result was that users were caught in bubbles that weren’t based upon reality. Many of their friends weren’t really friends. They were merely people that agreed with you about the major issues, or even the minor ones. The news stories all supported your beliefs, the shared posts that were actually displayed on your timeline were only those that the algorithms thought would make you happy.
And when that stray person accidentally found themselves in your narrowed field of vision, that stray that didn’t agree with you and the hundreds or thousands of like-minded individuals you were “friends” with, you were shocked that there could even exist someone who didn’t believe the same as you.
And you attacked.
As a collective.
And you felt good about it, because everyone you knew was jumping on board the same bandwagon, destroying that evil lone individual who dared think something different, because they were obviously wrong. After all, every news story you ever read said you were right. Every friend you had ever made said the same.
It sometimes made him thankful that he and Laura couldn’t have children. Who would want to bring someone into this world?
He did hold out some small hope. Some people were beginning to recognize the problem, and some had even approached Apple, demanding they develop a simple phone. If people could just talk, instead of constantly being on social media every waking minute, perhaps then they could realize that there wasn’t just right or wrong, but a whole lot of opinions in between, and that those who disagreed with you weren’t simply evil or uninformed or misinformed, but entitled to their opinions, and perhaps even correct in them.
He regarded the three men that now held them prisoner, and wondered what had set them off. What bubble had they foun
d themselves in that had created enough rage that they had taken matters into their own hands, no matter the consequences, because those who got in their way, or tried to stop them, were wrong, and perhaps even evil, therefore not worthy of living?
He leaned a little closer to Laura and stared into her eyes, thanking God for every moment they had spent together, and praying that this wouldn’t be the end of the purest friendship, and relationship, he had ever had. She smiled at him, and he knew she was completely aware of what he was thinking.
And it made him even more determined to get them out of this situation.
He glanced over at Spud, sitting on the opposite side of Laura, quiet the entire time, and knew he was the key to getting out alive. The man seemed desperate for human interaction, and Acton was determined to give it to him.
And perhaps, with some luck, sway him to their side.
20
Off the coast of Pico Island, Azores
Hugh Reading had opted for the cheaper dive suits—the ones without the built-in communications gear. They were just too damned expensive, and he wasn’t raking in the dough like his friends, though he supposed neither were they. They just had a monster nest egg sitting there thanks to Laura’s late brother, and her wise handling of the money after she inherited it. When the dive shop had quoted him the prices, it had made him once again appreciate how much his friends did for him. They had flown him and his son down here, they had put them up in the hotel, and they were paying for all their expenses while here. He was determined to at least work in a dinner on him, just to make himself feel better, but as he had long realized, a vacation to them was a coffee to him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to buy them a coffee.
To be rich!
One of the things he liked about his two friends was that they didn’t flaunt it. There were no Rolexes or thousand dollar sunglasses. These weren’t the Kardashians of the archaeology world, even though they could be. Reading suddenly had a mental image of Acton bent over provocatively with an erupting bottle of champagne, filling a glass perched ever so delicately on his oiled ass. He laughed, nearly spitting out his regulator.
Talk about breaking the Internet.
His son waved at him, about ten feet below, then pointed. He looked and sucked in a quick breath. It was a set of columns, thrusting out of the ocean floor, on an angle that matched the side of the volcanic island that extended out of sight to his right. He kicked hard toward the ruins, thankful for his parents having introduced him to scuba diving during their family trips to Estartit in Spain. He had always been comfortable in the water—after all, he was a Brit—but had also never feared going deep, and a quick glance at his depth gauge told him they were now 180 feet below the surface.
As he entered the ruins, it was clear this was what his friends had been excited about, and he could understand why they might lose track of time. He made as quick a circuit as he could around the periphery, not spotting them, but instead finding several pieces of very modern gear, some of which appeared to be cameras. Someone had been here, and he was confident it was his friends, though where they were now, he had no clue. The fact their equipment seemed intact and functional, suggested this could simply be a matter of bad timing. They might have passed each other on the road here, and could be back at the hotel, waiting for them.
He motioned toward his son then pointed up, beginning the slow ascent. As his mind raced with the possibilities, he inevitably thought of worst-case scenarios, and came to the decision that if he didn’t have a message waiting for him on his phone when they reached the surface, he’d ask the dive shops if they had seen them. They would have rented equipment from somewhere, and it was likely from one of the several lining the beach, tourism in the Azores apparently a booming industry.
They surfaced, and Spencer was first in their small boat, hauling Reading in after him. Reading removed his headgear and sucked in several lungsful of fresh sea air.
“That was sooo cool!”
Reading regarded his son. “Now, mum’s the word, right? Nobody can know what we saw.”
Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not an idget.”
“You sound like one when you say it like that.”
Spencer gave him a look. “Haha.” He started up the engine, pointing them toward the shore. “So, do you think that was their equipment?”
Reading nodded. “Probably. I doubt anybody else would have had the time to piggyback on their discovery.”
Spencer pointed to a large boat far to their right. “They look well-equipped.”
Reading glanced over his shoulder to see a large vessel with a boom lifting a submersible from the water, and suddenly felt inexplicably uneasy. “They’re a pretty good distance away from the ruins. I should think that if they had been exploring them, they would have been directly over them like we were.”
Spencer shrugged. “We had GPS coordinates to work from, maybe they didn’t.”
“Well, if they are exploring it, I’m sure Jim and Laura know about it.”
Spencer brought them up to the dock and Reading stepped from the boat, tying them off. Spencer handed their gear up to one of the dive shop employees manning the dock, then they both headed for the rental shop.
“Back so soon?” asked the owner, a man they had learned earlier was named Baltasar.
“Not much time, unfortunately. Listen, we had two friends that should have been diving here yesterday and earlier today. Jim Acton and Laura Palmer. He’s mid-forties—”
“Yeah, I know them. They rented a bunch of equipment from us yesterday.” He wagged a finger at Reading. “I don’t like to speak ill of people, but we had to go out and retrieve their boat. They just abandoned it out there when they left.”
Reading tensed as his eyebrows rose. “Wait, you saw them leave?”
“Yeah, they came back on another boat with two others, then left.”
“When was this?”
Baltasar shrugged. “A few hours ago, I guess.”
“Any idea where they went?”
“No idea, just that they went that way.” Baltasar pointed down the road, leading toward Sao Roque and the hotel.
“Did you find anything in their boat?”
Baltasar shook his head. “No. I hope they left their valuables in the car, because the boat looked like it was picked clean when we found it.”
Reading frowned. “Picked clean?”
“Well, there was nothing on board except some of our tanks. None of their personal stuff.”
“And they took their car?”
“Yes.”
Reading frowned, then handed him a card. “If you think of anything else, call me. My cell number is on the back.”
The man took the card, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Interpol! Are they in some kind of trouble?”
Reading frowned. “I hope not.”
21
Professor Gadeiros’ Residence
Atlantis
Before the fall
Ampheres stepped through the door, Mestor’s hand pressed firmly on his back, urging the reluctant professor forward. The interior of the home was dark, all the windows covered, any lighting extinguished. The door closed behind him, completing the effect. He heard the distinct strike of a fire starter and a spark lit the room with a brief flash before a lamp emitted a dull glow.
“Okay, quickly people, let’s not keep our guest in the dark too long.”
Ampheres heard feet shuffling before he made out the silhouettes of those acting upon the orders of a voice he could never forget, but hadn’t heard in years. He was grateful for the few moments of privacy, steeling for the encounter about to come. Curtains were moved aside behind him, allowing the light to flood in from the overhead windows, the lower windows still covered for privacy’s sake. He blinked several times, then stared at his former mentor, Professor Gadeiros, unsure of what to do.
Gadeiros had no such indecision.
He stepped toward him, his arms extended, a broad smile on his fa
ce. “My, how you’ve matured!” He embraced Ampheres, giving him a thumping hug, as if the rift between them had never existed, and Ampheres had merely been off on some journey for the past ten years.
“I, umm, it’s, umm, good to see you, Professor.”
Gadeiros eyed him. “Are you sure?”
Ampheres’ eyes shot wide, his jaw dropping before snapping shut. Gadeiros tossed his head back, roaring with laughter.
“You should see your face, my old friend.” He motioned toward a chair, Ampheres finally noticing the other half-dozen in the room, all young, possibly students of the esteemed professor. He sat, his old mentor sitting across from him. “Your presentation didn’t go well.”
Ampheres grunted, folding his arms. “No, I should say not.”
“I thought you presented your findings quite well, and your insults were well-timed. Stealing Poseidon’s Trident was a foolish ending, however.”
Ampheres’ eyes narrowed. “Were you there?”
Gadeiros nodded. “In the gallery. I had heard you were presenting, and wanted to hear what you had said.”
Ampheres glanced at Mestor. “I understand you presented your own findings recently?”
“Yes, and they too fell on deaf ears, I’m afraid. I had hoped when one of the most respected academics of the city backed up my findings, perhaps those fools would listen, but your actions, I’m afraid, have negated anything you said.”
Ampheres stared at his former mentor, dumbfounded at the words. “Most respected academics? Was someone else presenting today?”
Gadeiros laughed, the others in the room joining in. “My young friend, do you still think so little of yourself after all these years? Your accomplishments are well-known throughout the city by those who should know of these things, and I have followed your career with pride, if not some shame.”
Ampheres’ eyes narrowed. “Shame? What could you possibly be ashamed about?”
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