The Atlantis Cipher (The Relic Hunters Book 2)

by David Leadbeater

  Then he motioned for Cassidy to turn the lamp off.

  “I assume you chose this room because it was the easiest entry?”

  Bodie nodded. “Identified it yesterday. I guess that was part of your plan?”

  Pantera sighed raggedly. “Yeah, yeah, but a long fucking time ago. When . . . when things were better.”

  Bodie sat opposite the older man while Cassidy roamed the hallway outside the door, checking for traps.

  “Tell her to make no noise,” Pantera said. “No noise at all and no shadows against the curtains. I don’t know where I’m safe anymore.”

  Bodie didn’t try to hide his confusion. “What are you talking about? You’re acting like you didn’t collude to get me thrown into a Mexican prison for the rest of my life, which, by the way, was going to be measured in days.”

  Pantera, to his credit, only gave a pained sigh. “One of the worst moments of my life. I’m so sorry, Guy.”

  Bodie had never heard Pantera apologize before. Cassidy returned to the room with a shrug. “All clear up here.”

  “Please,” Pantera hissed. “Do not go downstairs.”

  Cassidy appeared to take that as a challenge and turned toward the door. Bodie called her back.

  “Wait. Just give him a minute. I want to hear what he has to say.”

  “Could be a trap. No matter how you think of him, he’s not your father.”

  Bodie was staring at Pantera’s darkened face. “I don’t think so. What’s got you so shook up? If I didn’t know you, I’d swear I was looking at a totally different man from the Jack Pantera I used to admire.”

  “To be fair,” Cassidy said, “I think we’ve seen a little bit too much of him tonight.”

  “It didn’t scare you off,” Pantera said, managing his first buoyant comment of the encounter.

  “Things like that never do. As you know, Jack, I’m not shy.”

  Bodie clicked a finger. “You have sixty seconds before I set her on you. Don’t waste them.”

  Even in the dim light thrown by the starry skies Bodie saw Pantera’s shoulders slump. A ragged sigh came from his mouth, and then he glanced up toward one of the houses that overlooked his property before fixing everything on Bodie.

  “You have to help me, my friend. You have to help them.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  On the plane, Heidi provided what information she could about the mission, backed up by Gunn on his laptop and the few things that Jemma knew. Between them they knitted together the drifting sands of time as best they could. Several times Heidi mentioned the new historian they were trying to appoint.

  “She should be with us by the time we return from Rio.”

  “What . . . she doesn’t like the beach?” Gunn asked.

  “She’s somewhat difficult,” Heidi admitted, “so should fit in with you guys perfectly. But do feel free to tell us when you expect to visit the beach.”

  Gunn sank back into his work, saying nothing. Heidi let it go, knowing he was happiest there. The gelled hair, the snappy clothes—they were all for show. Gunn was an introvert and never more content than when he could lead from behind a flickering screen.

  She turned in her seat to stare at Cross. “Did you try Bodie?”

  “Yeah, no reply. Must be in the thick of it.” He looked anxious.

  “Try not to worry. He’s not your kid and he can take care of himself.” Heidi wondered why her own heart was tensed with worry. The two of them had big issues to sort through when he returned. His selfish actions may have jeopardized this mission. Even then, she was looking forward to seeing the well-shaven, strongly built man with the incredibly white teeth.

  Hey, Flash, she wanted to say when she first saw him but knew it would have to be a far sterner greeting.

  It wasn’t to be. If only this group of recalcitrant children would fall into line.

  “He might not be my kid,” Cross responded, “but behind actual family, he’s the person I care about most in this world.”

  She’d guessed just that, seeing their interaction. Cross was almost as much a father figure and mentor for Bodie as Pantera had been.

  She caught the team’s attention by standing up, and told them everything she knew.

  “The nine statues,” she began, “are of Phoenician origin. They are a representation of the god Baal. You may be wondering why the Phoenicians keep coming up in reference to Atlantis . . . well, the Phoenicians were a great seafaring people who destroyed most of the major powers around the Mediterranean a few thousand years ago. Even Egypt and Ramses III fought them. Some say these sea people were the remnants of Atlantis. Others, that the Phoenicians were founded many years before that, again from what remained. The fact is that many of the kings of Atlantis were the gods of the Phoenicians and the Greeks. Through time, there have been inscriptions found on Egyptian temples that tell of these sea people, the fall of a continent, and the attack of an advanced race. And it was the Egyptians themselves that started the cowing of the Phoenicians by sending their mighty armies up the coast, demanding to be recognized as their overlords, and claiming a large tribute also. Of course, the Phoenicians later rose again, with supposed help from the so-called sea people, and created such cities as Carthage, Tangier, Cadiz, and Beirut.”

  “And why was this guy Baal so important?” Cross asked.

  “The god Baal was important to a race that dominated both the Atlantic and the Mediterranean so much so that his and other names they gave ports and towns were the names of their gods and remain so even now. Gades in Spain was one such town, named after Gadeirus, the son of Poseidon, god of the sea.”

  Jemma scrunched her nose. “I never heard of Gades.”

  “That’s because today they call it Cadiz.”

  “Sorry, I still don’t get the link between the Phoenicians and Atlantis,” Gunn admitted.

  “Well, there’s a lot more to it,” Heidi said, “that I’m just not qualified to relate. For instance, a purple dye they brought to the Med that can be found in only one other place on the entire earth—Oaxaca, Mexico. Ancient Roman artifacts made from Canadian spruce. It all points to the fact that these so-called Phoenicians, at some point in their history, lived on a continent that stretched from the Med to South America at least.”

  “I remember a documentary that stated the Phoenicians themselves claimed their civilization went back thirty thousand years.” Jemma shrugged. “Most of it lost to the mists of time.”

  Heidi nodded. “The fact is that they were probably the very first civilized nation on earth. But back to Baal. His real name was Baal Hammon, worshipped as both a fertility god and a supreme god. He was probably their greatest deity.”

  “I also remember there were an awful lot of other places where Atlantis could have been,” Cross said, playing devil’s advocate.

  “From the Caribbean to the Sahara and even to the North Sea. But let’s not forget major cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam are even now many feet below sea level. They could be the incredible sunken cities of future generations. But Atlantis speaks of mythical worlds and millennia ancient. It is captivating.”

  “I understand that Atlantis would be a major find,” Gunn said. “Especially today. But why are the CIA involved?”

  Heidi poured water from a bottle, steadying her glass as the plane flew through a little turbulence. “Obviously, they’re not.”

  “What? Well—”

  Cross tapped his arm. “She means officially.”

  Heidi wished that were the case. “The CIA does not undertake these missions. They do not manage teams of . . . relic hunters. They do not believe in myths and legends. Imagine the indignity . . .” She shook her head. “But they do believe in undiscovered technology and new medicines that would solidify America’s position as the strongest nation in the world. All they’re doing is safeguarding our future.”

  “We just found one of the ancient wonders of the world,” Jemma pointed out.

  “Sure you did. Do you really think t
he bean counters, the wizened old men in their towers, the fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants kids in their bespoke suits give a shit about wonders? About legends?”

  “They would if it lined their pockets,” Jemma said.

  “Oh yeah, but they can find far easier ways to do that. A coup here and there. A coal deposit cleared of locals.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that the whole thing is transient at the moment. A bit like my personal life. Understood?”

  “Isn’t a transient homeless?” Cross asked caustically.

  “You got it, Eli. For now, you’re homeless. You’re off the books, which is perfect for the CIA. You’re expert, capable tramps. We all are. Until somebody finds a home for us.”

  “You seem to have adopted us pretty quickly, though,” Cross pointed out. “What did you do before this?”

  “None of your business. Now listen, we should talk about what to do when we land in Brazil.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jack Pantera launched himself at Bodie and Cassidy, thrusting his bulk up from the carpeted floor. It came as a shock to Bodie. When the bald man came at him, he launched a head-butt that Bodie barely avoided. Pantera straight-armed him across the top of the chest. It was like walking into a low beam. Bodie flinched and went down to one knee.

  Cassidy didn’t even try to talk Pantera down. There may even have been a slight smile across her lips as she confronted the bald man.

  The older thief struck her like a hammer, his attack lacking any sense of craft. He just wanted to get her out of the way and find freedom, bulldoze his way to victory. Bodie saw Cassidy skip aside and grab Pantera’s right arm. He flew one full rotation on his journey to the ground, landing hard on his spine.

  He didn’t groan, just kicked his feet.

  “Stay down,” Cassidy warned.

  “Bastards,” Pantera fumed.

  Bodie rose. “You seriously think you can fight your way out of here? You’re not even better than me, mate, never mind Cassidy here.”

  Pantera made a noise and then Bodie realized, with profound shock, that the man was crying. His face was red, crumpled. Nevertheless, he rose and ran for the door. Cassidy moved fast, planting a foot in his spine and altering his trajectory.

  Straight into the doorjamb.

  Pantera bounced off the wooden frame with a crunch that made even Bodie wince. A streak of blood marked the impact. Pantera fell to his knees. Bodie moved to stand over him.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  Bodie knelt at Pantera’s side, took hold of his face, and turned it until they stared eye to eye.

  “What’s the deal, Jack? You sold me out. Left me to die. A Mexican prison? Betrayal? European assassins?”

  Pantera struggled. “I didn’t send anyone to kill you. They said it would be a tough year in prison. That was all.”

  Bodie spluttered a little. A tough year? That was some understatement.

  “Fucksake,” Cassidy echoed his thoughts. “That’s harsh.”

  “Who said that, Jack?” Bodie asked.

  “They did. The people watching the house. Did you see anyone else watching?” Pantera hissed. “When you came here? Did you?”

  “There’s nobody else out there, Jack.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “Not entirely.” Cassidy shrugged. “But if there is, we can deal with them easily enough when they arrive.”

  Pantera closed his eyes. “You don’t understand.”

  “Dude, we’ve been saying that since we first saw your ass. Literally. So why not enlighten us?”

  Pantera couldn’t stop crying, it seemed. Bodie was trying very hard not to conceal his bewilderment. Through all the years of training, of comradeship, he’d never seen Jack so upset.

  “You hate me, but it is them you should hate. I don’t hold anything against you, Guy. I have no strife with you. But they do, and they are very, very, seriously bad people.”

  Bodie sat back, shaking his head slightly. “You’re making no sense at all, pal.”

  “The watchers. They watch for you.”

  Bodie ignored a shiver. “Mate, I’m gonna slap you so hard if you don’t start talking sense.”

  “These people.” Pantera looked like he feared speaking their name. “They are seriously evil. No morals. No compassion. Not even the slightest sense of consideration or family unless it is for themselves, where it is absolute. They are brothers,” he whispered. “They are Bratva.”

  Bodie took a moment to process what Pantera had said. “Russians?” he asked, even more confused. “You mean the Russian Bratva? Gangsters, thugs, that kind of thing?”

  Pantera nodded slowly.

  “Sorry, mate, I’m not buying it. Those people would never have scared a man like you.”

  “You really pissed them off, Guy. You and your band of”—he glanced at Cassidy—“brothers.”

  She clucked her tongue. “I know what you wanted to say there. You wanted to say ‘bitches.’ Well, don’t worry yourself. I am a bitch, happy to be, and a good one at that.”

  “You pissed them off,” Pantera reiterated. “You stole something from them after we parted ways. Some bloody artifact that belonged to the old man. Apparently, he suffered a heart attack three days later and died.”

  Bodie frowned hard. The cause of the heart attack wouldn’t matter to these people. They would only see the circumstances surrounding it. He knew of the Bratva—that they were a close-knit, ruthless organization founded in Moscow and part of the Russian Mafia. They were well organized and incredibly far-reaching.

  “They’re the real deal,” Cassidy said.

  “Yeah, I know. And you’re saying we stole from them?”

  “Not just that. They know you stole a priceless sentimental statue from them,” Pantera said. “When the old man died they made it their business to track down the person who employed you. When they finished with him and his family”—Jack gulped—“they tracked me just because I was your old boss. They couldn’t find you at the time, so they came straight to my door.”

  “But we broke up our partnership.”

  “You think they care that I agreed to let you follow your own path? That we parted on the best of terms? That I was actually proud to see you leading your own team? They don’t care about that shit.”

  Bodie looked toward the bare window. “What . . . and now they watch in case I drop by for a coffee?”

  “You’re a fucking idiot, Bodie, you know that?”

  “If I’m understanding this right, you gave me to them in order to save your own skin. You put me inside that jail and let them know I was there. It was Bratva that attacked me inside . . .” He remembered their appearance, their tattoos. It seemed a lifetime ago now. “Makes sense.”

  “The Bratva entered a Mexican cartel–run prison?” Cassidy wondered.

  “They have ties,” Bodie said. “They do business. These real-life crime syndicates are plugged in everywhere, and with each other.”

  “So they threatened your ass and you ran squealing to protect it?” Cassidy stared at Pantera. “Man, I thought you were better than that. More than that.”

  “No, no, no.” Pantera shook his head wearily. “Is it that hard to understand? Here . . .” He crawled over to a wooden chest, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a plastic folder and a small flashlight.

  He opened the folder, spread the contents onto the floor and flicked on the flashlight.

  Bodie blanched as reality hit home. “Shit.”

  Over a dozen Polaroid photographs showed a woman and a young boy: eating cereal at a breakfast bar, driving to school, and, in one case, even lying asleep in their beds.

  “This is your family?” Cassidy asked, knowing the answer already.

  “How long?” Bodie asked.

  “Six months maybe?” Pantera shrugged. “Sometime before the Mexican prison. They send me more every month.”

  “And are they just watching?” Bodie as
ked. “Or . . .”

  “No. Just watching. Endlessly watching. Both my wife, Steph, and my son, Eric. And me, I guess.”

  Bodie read between the lines. The Bratva saw Pantera as their best route to getting close to his entire team. Their modus operandi was heavy threat and extreme coercion. Family was the weakness, and ruthless criminals would always exploit it if they could. Somehow, then, they had found a way to Pantera’s family.

  “You lost your edge.”

  Pantera shrugged. “Yeah, happily. I quit three years ago. After you left, the whole bloody vision lost its edge. Felt hollow, somehow. I took excessive precautions when I quit. I never thought someone on this scale would come hunting. But I guess we never kept our alliance a secret. People knew.”

  Bodie had to agree. They had always been fastidious about who they worked for and who they deprived of objects. Somehow, somebody had deceived them.

  “What’s the world coming to,” he muttered. “Stealing old relics is a bloody victimless crime. Or it’s supposed to be, at least.” He shook his head, depressed.

  “You realize how big a problem this is?” Pantera asked. “The Bratva are vast—worldwide. A million-man army. You may have escaped the watch on my house, but they will never stop coming. This is a matter of honor to them. Pride. It is out of respect for their boss, their father. This debt might never be repaid.”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” Bodie said. “First, what the hell do you mean—escaped the watch?”

  Pantera blinked. “You said you’d escaped the watch.”

  “No. I didn’t say that,” Bodie said. “If they’re watching—they know we’re here.”

  “No.” Now Pantera rose ramrod straight. “It’s the anxiety, the constant unease, the lack of sleep. I find it hard to focus.”

  Bodie couldn’t find the words. Cassidy found them for him.

  “Get it together, Jack.”

  The fear that crossed his features was terrible to comprehend. “Please, God, no. Please—”

  “Your family! Jack, your family. Where the fuck do they live?”

  It took a moment for Pantera to say anything. “Winter Park.”