Atlantis Lost Page 3

  Laura’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Show me that first photo.”

  Acton flipped back to the zoomed in portion, showing an engraving that had him more excited than he could ever remember. She reached out and traced the three concentric rings without touching the screen.

  “How did Plato describe it? A citadel at the center surrounded by three circular harbors?”

  Acton nodded. “Exactly. With canals joining each of them. If this isn’t an exact representation of what he described, I don’t know what is.”

  Laura shook her head, finally tearing her eyes away from the screen. “But it can’t be. Atlantis is just a myth.”

  Acton leaned away, holding his index fingers up and crossing them with a hiss. “Blasphemer!”

  She gave him the eye. “Don’t you dare start on me with Stargate. Between that, Star Wars, Star Trek, and Battlestar, it’s a wonder I’ve stayed with you for as long as I have.”

  He put on his best pout.

  She glared at him then lost it, unable to maintain the façade. She slapped his chest. “You can watch all the Stargate and whatever while I’m back in London for the next two weeks.”

  Acton held up the iPad. “I think we have to check this out.”

  “I think he’s having you on.”

  Acton paused. “You don’t think…” His eyes widened. “That bastard! You know what, he probably is!” He dialed the number and put the call on speaker, Niner’s voice coming through loud and clear after the first ring.

  “Hiya, Doc. You got my photos?”

  “Yes, we did. You’re on speaker with me and Laura.”

  “Hey sweetheart, still happy with that old man?”

  Laura laughed. “Exquisitely!”

  Niner groaned. “That’s too bad. Oh well, I’ll be waiting. So, what do you think?”

  Acton held up the iPad. “Of your little joke?”

  “Joke?”

  “Yeah, joke. You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  “No, Doc, I’m not! Jimmy and I were scuba diving off the coast here when there was an earthquake. We were down a good ways, a couple of hundred feet, so we had to ride it out. When it was over and the dust settled, we found the ruins of a city. Big ass columns and collapsed buildings. It was incredible. Buried in the sand was this honkin’ huge fork. I think it’s a trident.”

  Acton chuckled. “It is.”

  Laura leaned closer to the phone. “And tell Atlas it could be priceless.”

  “So I should stop eating with it?”

  They both laughed at Atlas’ voice from the background.

  “So what do you think? Am I not the greatest archaeologist in the world?”

  Acton slowly shook his head. “Buddy, if this is what it could be, then your name could go down with the greats, like Carter, Leakey, and Woolley.”

  Niner groaned. “Man, I’ve never even heard of one of them. What’s the point?”

  Laura smiled. “You said you’re in the Azores?”

  “Yeah, can’t say why or I’d have to kill your husband and marry you so you could be read in. Should I send this to you?”

  They both vigorously shook their heads.

  “No!” exclaimed Acton. “Just stay put. We’re coming to you.”

  “When?”

  “We’ll be leaving as soon as we can. We’ll text you the details.”

  “Okay, Docs, but make it snappy. We could be deployed at any minute.”

  “Understood. See you soon.” Acton ended the call then leaped to his feet, heading for the closet where his luggage was kept, as Laura grabbed the phone and called their travel agent.

  “Hi, Mary, it’s me. We need a jet as soon as possible…yes, from here…Pico Island, Azores…ninety minutes?…we’ll be there…yes, cancel my flight to London. Thanks.”

  And with that, his mega-millionaire wife had rebooked a private jet from her lease-share network. He was still getting used to the concept that his wife, and now both of them, were worth almost half a billion dollars. Her late brother had been an Internet tycoon years ago, and when he died tragically at one of her dig sites, he had left her his entire fortune gained by selling the company before the bubble had burst. They wanted for nothing, and tried to still keep things simple, though it did afford them certain luxuries like private jets.

  “Oh, what about Hugh?”

  Acton paused. “What about him?”

  “Well, we were supposed to spend a couple of days together before my lectures. He took time off for it.”

  Acton thought for a moment. “Why not have him join us?”

  She beamed at him. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  “And maybe have him bring his son. Wasn’t he supposed to be on break from the police academy?”

  “That’s a fantastic idea! If this proves to be real, they’ll be part of history.”

  Acton stood, staring at the photo still displayed on the iPad lying on the bed. “Do you think it is? I mean, do you think it could be?”

  She turned away from the dresser then followed his gaze. “Assuming that prankster is telling us the truth, and there is some ancient city under the sea, offshore from the Azores, then it’s definitely something. Some theories have suggested the Azores as a possible location for Atlantis, since it does lie past the Strait of Gibraltar and what some believe to be the Pillars of Hercules. Even if it isn’t Atlantis, it could be a discovery of some significance.” She motioned at the iPad. “And if that artifact is genuine, depending on when we can date it to, if it precedes Plato’s description, it would be the first independent proof that the city once existed, even if the ruins Niner found aren’t it.”

  Goosebumps traveled up and down Acton’s body. “I feel like a schoolboy about to see his first set of—” He stopped himself.

  Laura flashed him. “These?”

  He grinned. “Time for one more?”

  She wagged a finger at him. “Pack, Mister, or there’ll be no Atlantis for you!”

  6

  Off the coast of Pico Island, Azores

  Gavin Thatcher frowned as he pressed the button, the computer installed only recently on their boat immediately placing a scrambled call through a satellite orbiting far above them, the system then bouncing the signal around the globe, effectively making the call untraceable.

  And it was technology he despised.

  Technology, specifically communications technology, was responsible for the ills of the world today. Populations were split between left and right, with positions so entrenched, that they considered the other side evil and idiotic in any debate. Gone were the days of intelligent discourse, because anonymity over the cursed Internet allowed pile-on justice to prevail, with careers and dreams destroyed, businesses taken down, all by misinformed useful idiots hiding behind their smartphones.

  Now there’s something that should never have been invented.

  And it extended beyond the borders of the modern states. Technology was allowing cultures to mix that simply weren’t compatible. Gone were the days when someone left their homeland for a better life, then integrated and became part of the melting pot that was their new home. Now, with technology, one never had to say goodbye to family or friends in the old country, could listen to the same radio stations, watch the same television shows, and read the same newspapers, without even bothering to learn the language of your new home. And then when asked to integrate, those same useful idiots would pile on and claim those asking were racists for doing so.

  All because of technology.

  It was destroying the world. Some might call him a Luddite, but he didn’t shun all technology. Much of it was passive and contributed to the betterment of mankind, like medical technology. It was communications technology that was the true evil, but until recently, there was little his band of true believers could have done about it.

  But several months ago, when he had met the man he was waiting to be connected to, for the first time in his life he truly had hope. What they were preparing to do wou
ldn’t change the world, not today, but it might make people realize just how dependent they had become on modern communications technology, and just how vulnerable it was to attack. It was their hope this would stimulate conversations among those so dependent upon the Internet, that perhaps they might come out from behind their screens and actually talk to their neighbor about something, rather than rant to the like-minded on the social media sites they frequented, social media sites that filtered the news and posts they saw to only match their beliefs.

  It would be a long, hard fight, but before the day was out, the beginning of the end could well be underway.

  The system beeped and a silhouetted figure appeared, the voice and image of their benefactor never having been revealed to anyone else since their initial meeting. It made him nervous, though it didn’t matter. His pockets were deep, and because of him, they were almost there.

  “Thatcher. You have an update?”

  “Yes, sir, and I’m afraid it’s bad news. We’ve had an earthquake here and it buried the device. We’re digging it out now, but it could take hours, maybe even until tomorrow.”

  There was a pause, and if a silhouette could look displeased, this one did. “That’s unfortunate. If this is to succeed, we need total coverage.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Contact me as soon as you’re finished.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The system went dark and he sighed, his heart pounding like it always did when dealing with the man. He didn’t trust him, but trust wasn’t necessarily required. His money had been there when needed, and as far as he knew, every single device was in place along the entire European seaboard except for one, and he was responsible. Though that would be resolved shortly.

  Then a message would be sent the world couldn’t ignore.

  7

  MessageStream Office #42

  Atlantis

  Before the fall

  Mestor stood at the communications center, impatiently waiting for an update. As the messages arrived from around the city through the high-pressure water pipe delivery system, each waterproof container was opened by one of the operators, the destination examined, then redirected if necessary, handed to a runner if it was to be personally delivered, or announced publicly then placed on file for pick up. It was a fantastic system that allowed messages to be delivered quickly and efficiently throughout the city, and it was why he now stood here, waiting for an update on the situation that was developing at the Senate. Professor Ampheres had spoken, some of his group present, and a message had been dispatched, telling him to be ready to act.

  “Message for Mestor!”

  His heart pounded and he raised a hand, stepping toward the dispatcher. “I’m Mestor.”

  “Identification.”

  He showed him his ID, and the tied scroll containing his message was handed to him. He quickly stepped away from the crowd, unrolling the page, his eyes widening at the report.

  Unbelievable!

  Ampheres had said everything they had expected him to, and he had been ignored, exactly as expected. But then he had done something foolish.

  Stealing the trident? Is he insane?

  It made him a target. Denouncing the government was legal. They couldn’t touch him for his words. But stealing the trident? That would have him arrested for sure, and an arrested man was not only easy to silence in the short term, he was easy to discredit in the long. It had been an idiotic, impulsive action. But what was done, was done, and they had to act quickly if they were to protect him.

  He stepped up to the message stand, grabbing several forms, quickly scribbling his messages, then rolling them up and tying them off, making certain the final destination was visible. He handed them over to the dispatcher, then the coins to pay for the express service. He waited to see the messages loaded into the tubes, then the access port on each appropriate pipe opened and the tubes dropped inside, the flowing water whipping them toward their destination. He nodded at the clerk then headed for the dock Ampheres would soon be arriving at. He just prayed that the government hadn’t already sent word to have the Enforcers waiting for the foolish scientist.

  Otherwise, there could be blood.

  8

  Pico Airport

  Pico Island, Azores

  Present Day

  Professor James Acton grinned and waved at the group of men waiting for them on the tarmac. Not too long ago, these same men had killed his students, and tried to kill him, all based upon false intel provided by a corrupt administration, indicating he was the head of a domestic terror cell, and his students were his followers who had already killed US personnel associated with DARPA. This Delta team, members of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, had eliminated what they thought was a terror cell, and once they discovered the truth, refused to follow their illegal orders, nearly resulting in the death of the man now approaching them with his hand extended, Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson. Acton shook his hand while Laura was embraced by her biggest fans, Niner and Atlas. After years of atonement, these men were now friends, their past sins forgiven, the sight of them no longer causing fear.

  “Great to see you guys,” said Acton as he shook the others’ hands. He gestured at their surroundings. “Kind of an odd place for you guys to be, isn’t it?”

  Dawson led them toward a nearby vehicle. “No, Lajes Air Base is here, and it’s quite often used as a layover point. We’re between missions and the Colonel gave us a few days on the beaches.”

  Acton couldn’t keep up with the pleasantries anymore. “Which is when you guys found the trident?”

  Niner held up a finger. “Umm, I found it. If there’s any reward, it goes to me. I’ve got family starving back in Korea to feed.”

  Atlas slugged Niner’s shoulder, sending him stumbling to the side. “Your parents are from South Korea. I thought we settled this.”

  Niner shrugged. “Jimmy met them. You saw how skinny they were.”

  Jimmy gave him a look. “No skinnier than you, you tool. Ever heard of genetics?”

  Acton grinned at Laura, always loving the banter between the various Bravo Team members, their bond so tight, even the most outrageous insults were always taken in good fun.

  He loved it.

  Dawson opened the rear of an SUV, then looked about to see if anyone was watching. Niner darted ahead, presenting a blanket wrapped object with the aplomb of a grand marshal in a royal court.

  “M’Lady, M’Lord, I present to you, the Fork of Atlantis.”

  “Fork of Atlas!” coughed the big man.

  Niner gave Atlas the eye, then flipped the blanket aside. Acton gasped as his heart pounded, there still some doubt until this moment as to whether they were being set up for a prank. He immediately began taking video with his phone as Laura climbed in the back, a measuring tape out.

  “The object is one-hundred-eight-two centimeters long from end to end, thirty-four centimeters at its widest point, and sixteen centimeters in circumference around the base.” She lifted it gently. “The object is heavy, implying either solid metal, or metal plating over metal or stone. The exposed areas, here and here”—she indicated several locations scraped clear of the barnacles encrusting the object—“suggest at a minimum gold plating, though my initial guess is that it is solid gold from the weight. When we properly weigh it, we’ll know.” She pointed at the engraving that had them so excited back home. “This engraving seems to match the description Plato gave of Atlantis—”

  “So I did discover Atlantis?” interrupted an obviously elated Niner. He shoved Jimmy. “I told you!”

  “—suggests that it could be from Atlantis, thus proving it wasn’t a myth, or it could merely be an artifact created after Plato wrote his description in Timaeus. We won’t know until we can carbon date the surface buildup.”

  Dawson leaned forward. “Can you carbon date the gold itself?”

  Acton shook his head. “No, in order to carbon date something, it has to have ca
rbon in it. Gold is a base element, so it can’t contain carbon. The barnacles that have built up on this over the years should allow us to figure out how long it has been underwater, since they contain carbon. If that predates Plato’s writings, then it would strongly suggest that either Atlantis did exist, or Plato was inspired by some other city for his story.”

  Atlas leaned against the SUV, the suspension protesting. “This Plato dude, why’s he so important? Beyond inventing playdough and being some ancient Greek philosopher, why is he so tied to Atlantis?”

  Laura climbed back out of the SUV. “Because the first known reference to Atlantis was contained in his book, where it described an advanced civilization that lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules, with an incredible city built in concentric circles, with harbors and canals carved into the island, in ever greater widths.” She pointed at the engraving. “Exactly like that.”

  Dawson scratched the stubble on his chin. “Were there any other writings?”

  “Yes, after his, there were others, but all seemed to be referring back to his initial text, then trying to attribute other things in history to the Atlanteans, that had previously been thought to be other cultures. Really, so few texts still exist from back then, there’s no real way to know. Most modern academics believe that Atlantis was merely a metaphor that Plato used to describe the perfect civilization that he felt Greece should strive toward, and in fact, the Atlanteans were the bad guys in his narrative.”

  Niner grunted. “Bad Atlanteans? That fits what my Stargate tells me.” He folded his arms. “Well, there’s another way to settle this.”

  Acton smiled at him. “Pay a visit to where you found it.”

  9

  Off the coast of Pico Island, Azores

  Acton was giddy and impatient as they slowly descended toward what could be the greatest discovery not only of his career, but in the history of modern man. This would likely rival, if not put to shame, Carter’s discovery of King Tut’s tomb nearly a century ago.