Hiebermeyer shook his head and took off his glasses, blinking to get used to the blur. Sergeant Jones came up behind him and placed the helmet on the sealing ring around his neck, locking it in place and hooking up the hoses from the oxygen tank. He was closed off again, in another kind of tunnel. He heard the suck and rasp of his breathing on the oxygen regulator. He felt the sweat drip down his nose and over his lips, and he blinked it out of his eyes. He knew he was not sweating from the heat. He was sweating from fear.
‘All set?’ Penn’s voice sounded peculiar, tinny, through the earphones inside the helmet. Hiebemeyer looked across, and gave him a diver’s okay sign.
‘If you need to come out, you tell me. Otherwise we have one hour.’
‘I’m following you.’
Penn opened the door to the airlock chamber and Hiebermeyer followed him inside, squeezing into the confined space. Sergeant Jones slammed the door behind them, and he could hear the cross-bolt being dropped. They were in total darkness, and all he could hear was the hiss of their oxygen regulators. Then the inside door swung open, and Hiebermeyer walked into his worst nightmare.
7
South-eastern Black Sea
J ack turned in his chair as the door to the operations room on Seaquest II opened and two men entered. One had long, lank hair swept to the side, and was unusually neatly attired in trousers and a pressed shirt that must have been dug up especially for the visit by the inspection team. Dr Jacob Lanowski was one of IMU’s most unusual assets, an engineering genius from Caltech and MIT whose capacity for lateral thinking was matched by his eccentric character. He had the pale face and shadowy eyes of someone who spent most of his waking hours hunched in front of a computer screen, whereas the tall young man beside him was bronzed and fit, wearing old army trousers and a khaki T-shirt that was still streaked with the dust of Troy. Jack had first met Jeremy Haverstock four years earlier at the Institute of Palaeography in Oxford, where Jeremy had been completing a doctorate on early-medieval scripts supervised by Jack’s old girlfriend Maria de Montijo, director of the institute. After their first project together researching Viking exploration, Jack had persuaded Jeremy not to return to an academic career in America but instead to take up a position with IMU, and since then he had gone from strength to strength. Like Lanowski, he was an expert in his field but had diverse talents, exactly what Jack looked for in a team member, in Jeremy’s case a boyhood fascination with robotics engineering that had quickly cemented his friendship with Costas.
Jeremy took a portable hard drive out of his pocket and pointed to one of the computer workstations. ‘I need to get the program running,’ he said, veering off and sitting down in front of a console.
Lanowski went straight to the ROV monitoring station on the other side of the room and clamped the earphones to his head with one hand, quickly tapping the keyboard with his other. He put down the earphones and walked over to Jack and Costas. ‘I’m running a system diagnostic. It should take about fifteen minutes. Any more noise from the ROV?’ he said, peering through his little round glasses at Costas.
‘Nothing since we spoke, but I did what you said and shut everything down. I want to see how you reboot the system.’
Lanowski knelt down, reached under the table and extracted a portable blackboard, then propped it up on a chair and pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket, tossing it in the air and catching it. He pushed up his glasses and gave Jack a lopsided grin, his eyes burning with anticipation, then cleared his throat and turned to the board.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Costas said firmly, standing up and moving the blackboard back under the table. ‘Not the blackboard. Not the chalk.’
‘Just a little diagram to show how electromagnetic interference from a magma upsurge in the earth’s crust might be causing the problem with the ROV. To help you redesign the equipment so that next time it actually works.’
‘Not now, Jacob.’ Costas stood defiantly in front of the blackboard, his arms crossed. Lanowski sighed, tossed the chalk again, caught it and put it back in his pocket, then drummed his fingers on the chair beside him until Costas reached over and put his hand over Lanowski’s, stopping it.
Jeremy pushed his chair back and loped towards them. ‘Okay, that’s loading. Might be about the same time frame, fifteen minutes or so.’ He stood in front of them, as tall as Jack, and smiled broadly. ‘Boy, am I glad to see you two. From what Costas said on the phone, it sounds like you really did it this time. Diving inside a live volcano. Hard to beat that.’
‘Watch this space,’ Jack said, smiling. ‘You know that officially it didn’t happen?’
‘Captain Macalister collared me on deck as soon as I got out of the Lynx, and gave me a rundown.’
Costas reached over and slapped Jeremy on the back. ‘How’s my favourite ancient linguistics and submersibles technology expert?’
‘Excellent,’ Jeremy replied. ‘I’m really pleased with our final days at Troy. I left Professor Dillen in charge, after Maurice and his team had departed for Egypt. It was great to get Hugh Frazer out there, wasn’t it, before he passed away? It was heartbreaking when we took him to that care home in Poland to see the old lady with the harp, still sitting with it as he remembered her as a girl in that concentration camp in 1945. But he was really thrilled to be at Troy and see the wall painting Dillen discovered of Homer with his lyre. I think it brought back the joy of his time excavating with his friend Peter Mayne before the war, the strength of that friendship, their love of Homer. He and Dillen stayed up on the walls half the night declaiming passages in ancient Greek, and drinking wine from the golden cup of Agamemnon that Jack found in the shipwreck.’
‘You let them do that?’ Costas said, eyeing Jack. ‘You’ve just gone up even higher in my estimation.’
‘Far better than consigning it to a glass case,’ Jack murmured, turning to Jeremy. ‘Anything more on that Egyptian statue Maurice found?’
‘I think you’d better let him tell you about that,’ Jeremy replied. ‘He says he’s only going to reveal it when it’s cleaned up, but it’ll change our whole view of prehistory.’
Jack grinned. ‘Maurice always says that when he finds something Egyptian outside Egypt.’
Jeremy looked at Costas with concern. ‘I meant to say. About Little Joey. I’m really sorry for your loss. All those hours we spent together in the engineering lab over the winter, working on him.’
Costas looked to one side, swallowing hard. ‘I keep saying to myself that the fun’s in making the toy, not in playing with it. But it doesn’t ease the pain. Lost forever, entombed inside a volcano. I can’t even bear to say his name.’
‘But he did good work.’
Costas nodded; his voice was hoarse with emotion. ‘He did good work.’
Jack looked at Jeremy. ‘And how’s my favourite daughter?’
‘Sends her love. To Uncle Costas too.’
Lanowski was peering at Costas, and put a hand clumsily on his shoulder. ‘About the ROV. I’ve been thinking. What you need is children.’
Costas looked down at the hand, and then at Lanowski. ‘Did I hear you right? I need what?’
‘I said you need children.’
Costas gently removed the hand. ‘Of the many strange things I’ve heard you say over the years, that’s just about the strangest.’
‘I was only sharing that passion this morning with my girlfriend.’
Costas’ jaw dropped. ‘Your what?’
Lanowski reached into his shirt pocket and tossed out a picture of a raven-haired beauty. ‘She’s Brazilian. Models for Vogue. That’s how she paid her way through college. She’s got a PhD, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Jack murmured, scratching his chin.
‘And she hit on you, just like that,’ Costas said incredulously. ‘A Brazilian Vogue model with a PhD. You’ve kept that well under wraps.’
‘Well.’ Lanowski coughed, moved his long, lank fringe from his forehead, then pushed up his glasses again. ‘W
e haven’t actually met.’
‘You haven’t met.’
‘Well, not as such. Not hands-on.’
‘How do you know she wants children, if you haven’t actually met?’
‘Her profile says she wants children, and my profile says I want children. Do the math.’
‘Ah,’ Jack said, putting his head down to hide his expression.
‘Ah,’ Costas echoed. ‘You’ve got an internet girlfriend. Have you, um, sent her your picture?’
‘That’s why I was getting you to take a photo of me in the submersible yesterday, at the controls.’
‘I was wondering what that was all about.’
‘I just mentioned to her that submersibles were my latest thing, with my friend Costas, and she jumped on it,’ Lanowski said. ‘That’s the great thing about internet dating. You learn right away about shared passions.’
Costas nodded sagely. ‘Could have taken you years to find that out.’
‘The picture might do the trick,’ Jack murmured.
‘Well, my friend,’ Costas said, slapping Lanowski on the back, ‘you know where to find me if you need a best man.’
Lanowski looked at him gratefully, then at Jack, not batting an eyelid. ‘I’ll remember that. Now for the ROV program.’ He turned and walked quickly back to the monitoring station, sat down and put on the headphones.
Costas turned to Jack, speaking quietly. ‘Was he being serious?’
‘Lanowski’s got a brain about the size of Jodrell Bank observatory. He can spot you coming a mile off.’
‘But maybe?’
‘Maybe. Look out for the virtual-reality engagement ring.’
Jeremy ruffled his shock of blond hair. ‘About Rebecca. I knew you couldn’t make it back to Troy to see her off because of your covert diving operation here, so I went with her in the Lynx to Istanbul airport. She sent me a text as soon as she landed at JFK in New York. She’s back in school now. Her mother’s friends – her foster-parents, I should say – met her at the airport, Petra and Mikhail. Rebecca really looks forward to going back to see them, you know, to tell them about this whole new life she has with you.’
‘They’re great people,’ Jack said, sitting back. ‘After Elizabeth sent Rebecca away from Naples for her own safety as a little girl, they looked after her for almost fifteen years, until Elizabeth was killed in the Mafia hit and I learned that I had a daughter. I owe them a lot. I spent a week with them last summer after returning from Troy, on their farm in upstate New York. It was really interesting to hear for the first time about Mikhail’s background. He trained at the elite Moscow State Institute for International Relations. Officially he’s a research professor at Columbia, but he’s been on the payroll of the CIA since his defection. He’s a specialist in the early Cold War period, and we talked a lot about the Soviet conquest of Berlin in 1945. He thinks there’s more to be found out about the treasures from Troy that were taken from Berlin to Moscow after the war, and he was going to look into that for me. Rebecca wants their place in the Adirondacks to continue being her main home while she’s still at high school, using the apartment in New York City during termtime, and I’m fully behind it. All that matters to me is her happiness wherever she can find it, especially after her mother’s death. And last summer, being out in the fields and in the woods at the farm, I could see where she developed her independent streak.’
‘Maybe a bit of genetics in that too, Jack,’ Costas murmured.
‘It’s a brilliant place,’ Jeremy enthused. ‘Completely cut off by the forest. The lake at the back’s great for canoeing and fishing, isn’t it? You can camp on the island. Perfect.’
Jack raised his eyes in surprise. ‘You’ve been there too?’
Jeremy shrugged. ‘I thought you knew. You’re always running between projects, Jack. Kind of hard to pin down over the last six months. Rebecca told Mikhail and Petra I was going back to the States last autumn to spend some time with my folks. Their place is only a couple of hours away.’
‘Huh. She didn’t mention it. I suppose I’ve been a bit preoccupied. I really wanted to get the Troy excavation wrapped up by now, to clear the decks for what lies ahead. Coming back to Atlantis has been a dream of mine, but it definitely wasn’t on the cards.’ Jack paused, pursing his lips. ‘Maybe I’ve had my foot pressed a little too hard on the accelerator. After Rebecca’s kidnapping last year, I thought the best thing for both of us would be to submerge ourselves in work, to get on top of the Troy project and tie up the loose ends before we took some off-time together.’
‘Some pretty big loose ends still out there,’ Costas said quietly. ‘Have you heard from Maurice yet?’
Jack took a deep breath, then shook his head. ‘Not yet. But he should be at the bunker in Germany by now. Last week I spoke on the phone to the British army officer in charge of the excavation, which is being carried out by a NATO nuclear, biological and chemical team because of the risk of what might lie inside. The excavation is top secret and under a massive security cordon, exactly what we insisted on when I first approached my secret-service contact in London six months ago and told her what we knew. There’s a full MI6 team in charge of the Saumerre case. Officially Maurice is there to provide expert guidance on any stolen art and antiquities that might be inside the bunker, but we all know there’s more to it than that. We got in pretty deep last year, and Saumerre is playing his waiting game with us, not with the security services.’
‘What about Rebecca’s safety?’ Costas asked.
‘Saumerre won’t go anywhere near Rebecca again or anyone else in IMU as long as I threaten to expose him, but that could change if he thinks we’ve discovered what he wants in the bunker and he decides that he’s got nothing to lose.’
‘You know Ben Kershaw was with her on the flight?’ Jeremy said. ‘I had no idea until I spotted him boarding the aircraft at the last minute.’
‘He is our security chief,’ Jack said grimly. ‘After what happened last year, Ben told me he wasn’t letting her out of his sight until Saumerre was history. Ever since he took over IMU security following Peter Howe’s death out here six years ago, Ben has really come into his own. There are two others already on the ground in New York to provide round-the-clock surveillance, one ex-SAS like Ben and the other a serving MI6 agent provided by our case officer in London. Petra and Mikhail are fully aware of the situation. Mikhail was a Soviet officer in the Afghan war before he became an academic and defected with Petra, one of the reasons why Elizabeth thought he’d be a good guardian for Rebecca when her family’s Mafia connections in Naples became too much of a threat. I think he’s enjoyed turning their farm into a temporary armed compound. It doesn’t mean I rest easy, but it means I know she’s being looked after by the best people, and my presence would only be an interference as long as the security is ramped up. It means I can focus on the archaeology now.’ He paused, then looked at Jeremy quizzically. ‘Speaking of which, how did Rebecca do in the potsherd cleaning programme at Troy?’
‘Brilliantly. She discovered at least a dozen more sherds painted with the reverse-swastika pattern. It firms up your theory that it really was the symbol of ancient Troy. She stuck with it far longer than I expected, even turned down a chance for some impromptu training in the Lynx. I kept her under close supervision all the time.’
Costas coughed. ‘I’m sure you did.’
‘She’s seventeen,’ Jack said to Jeremy firmly. ‘Lots to learn. And you’re what, twenty-six?’
Costas glanced at Jack, then waved his hand breezily. ‘A year or two from now, the age difference won’t mean a thing. And as you said, Jack. Happiness wherever she can find it.’
Jack narrowed his eyes at Costas, then turned back to Jeremy with a resigned smile. He got up, put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and guided him to a seat. ‘Okay. Let’s talk about Atlantis.’
‘Macalister asked me to remind you that the Lynx is fuelling up for your departure. The Turkish geological team is due in at 1500
hours, and the helipad needs to be clear by then.’
Jack glanced at his watch. ‘That gives us forty-five minutes.’ There was a sudden whoop from the far side of the room, and they all turned to look. Lanowski had moved from the ROV station to one of the computer consoles, its screen facing away from them. He was talking to himself, occasionally chuckling and leaning back in his chair, then leaning forward again and staring. He suddenly went ramrod straight. ‘Eureka,’ he exclaimed. ‘ Eureka.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Costas said quietly to Jack. ‘The girlfriend?’
Jack raised his voice. ‘What is it?’
Lanowski looked up. ‘Something I’ve been working on. Something I have to thank Maurice Hiebermeyer for.’
‘ Hiebermeyer? ’ Jack exclaimed. ‘I wasn’t aware that the two of you had ever exchanged a word.’
‘Email. He’s my new friend. My new best friend.’
‘What about me?’ Costas muttered.
‘Looks like you’ve been knocked off your pedestal,’ Jack replied, looking with concern at Lanowski. ‘Are you going to share with us?’
‘Of course, I’ve read everything Hiebermeyer’s ever written, and I’ve even donated two of my books to his institute in Alexandria,’ Lanowski said more to himself than to anyone else, looking at the screen as if he were talking to it. ‘Egyptology’s always been a fascination of mine. Engineering problems, mathematical problems. Pyramids, mummies, papyrus. Codes.’ He stared at them, his eyes gleaming. ‘Yes, gentlemen. Codes.’
‘What on earth is he on about?’ Costas whispered.
Jack spoke firmly. ‘What about the ROV, Jacob, what you’re actually here for?’
Lanowski kept his gaze on the monitor, but waved one arm behind him. ‘It’s running itself. If it’s still transmitting and anything shows through, it’ll appear on the big screen above the ROV station.’
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