Atlantis

They consoled themselves that other marvels remained to be discovered along the ancient shoreline, perfectly preserved sites like the village off Trabzon that would answer many of their questions about how the people of this extraordinary culture flourished more than seven thousands years ago.

For Jack there was nothing more important than the revelation about Atlantis and its remarkable place in history. If they had known they were on borrowed time they might never have entered the volcano at all; their dive through the labyrinth and the discovery of the sanctuary now seemed hallowed experiences, never to be repeated.

He was certain that safeguarding the submarine and destroying Aslan may have prevented nuclear holocaust. Their achievement was a ray of hope, a small sign that people still had the ability to shape their own destiny. For the sake of those priestly visionaries at the dawn of civilization they must ensure their discovery was remembered not just as a revelation of past glory but also as a promise for the future. That was the true legacy of Atlantis.

The dying ripples of wind ruffled the sea in sheets of mottled orange, each gust sweeping off towards the west. To the north they could just make out the oily smudge that was all that remained of Vultura; her burnt-out shell had slipped almost unnoticed beneath the waves an hour before. Close inshore the scene was dominated by the huge bulk of Kazbek. Its escort had opened up to allow a Russian salvage vessel to manoeuvre into position. Further out lay another cordon of warships whose number had increased steadily through the day. They were taking no chances, the events of the past few days showing that rogue elements had the ruthlessness and daring to take on the most potent international forces.

Efram Jacobovich was talking quietly into a cellphone with his back to the group. Using the negotiating skills that helped make him one of the world’s richest men, he had already brokered a deal which would see Aslan’s wealth split between the three main parties. The Turks would get a much-needed reserve for earthquake relief and the Georgians the means to raise a powerful security force. IMU would be able to build Seaquest II, with more than enough left over to finance a programme of research along the entire Black Sea shore.

Jack looked at Costas.

“Thanks for the ADSA, by the way. If you hadn’t insisted on installing it in the command module I’d be a permanent fixture on the seabed by now.”

Costas raised the large gin and tonic which had thoughtfully been provided for him. “And thanks for showing up in the nick of time,” he replied. “Where I was, things were getting distinctly hot.”

“I have one question,” Jack said. “What would you have done if I hadn’t arrived?”

“I’d just agreed to lead Aslan’s men back down through the volcano to the submarine. Remember the final section of underwater tunnel, the lava extrusion just before we broke surface? I would have taken them down the left-hand passageway.”

“Directly into the magma chamber.”

“I was going there one way or another,” Costas said ruefully. “That way I’d at least have taken a couple of Aslan’s men with me and given Katya a chance. For the greater good, as you would say.”

Jack looked across at the pensive form of Katya, her face gilded by the sun as she leaned on the rail with her eyes fixed on the sea. They had discovered such incredible things over the past few days, yet she had been through a searing experience Jack could never have predicted when they first met in Alexandria a few short days ago.

He looked back at the battered features of his friend.

“For the greater good,” he repeated quietly.

Dillen was sitting quietly to one side, staring at the horizon, his face a picture of studious contemplation as he sucked on his antique clay pipe. After they had finished speaking, he turned and looked quizzically at Jack.

“And I have one question for you,” he said. “That incomplete set of plaques. Which group do you think had them?”

Jack thought for a moment. “They had everything up to the fourth tablet, the rudiments of agriculture and animal husbandry and stonemasonry. They could have gone to western Europe, where the Bronze Age began later than in the Near East, to Spain or western France or Britain.”

“Or further afield,” Dillen prompted.

“Some of the artefacts from early prehistory found in Mesoamerica and China have never been properly explained,” Jack said. “When urbanism developed in the Americas it produced architecture incredibly similar to Old World forms, pyramids and courtyards and processional ways. It could be that the legacy of Atlantis was a truly global phenomenon, that the world was knit together then as never before or since.”

The landing lights on the stern helipad came on and Jack turned to watch. The helipad had been a hive of activity all day. Earlier that afternoon Sea Venture’s Lynx had arrived with a UN nuclear weapons inspection team for transfer to Kazbek, and now it had returned on a refuelling stop from Abkhazia with a precious cargo of works of art from Aslan’s shattered headquarters. As it lifted off on its way to Istanbul, they could hear the deeper drumming of two Westland transport helicopters which had taken holding positions and were awaiting their turn to land.

Despite their fatigue, Jack knew he had been right to call a press conference immediately. In little more than an hour the reporters would all be back at the IMU staging headquarters at Trabzon and news of the discovery would be flashed around the world in time to fill the next morning’s headlines.

As the first helicopter settled on the helipad and began to disgorge scurrying teams of cameramen, Jack stood up, his rugged features framed against the dying light of the day. Just before walking down the steps to face the limelight he turned to the others.

“I’m here with Sea Venture until the search is called off,” he said. “Peter wouldn’t have wanted it but I owe it to him. I brought him here and he was my friend.”

“He was a hero,” Katya said softly. “The world is a better place than it was five days ago.”

They looked over to where she still leaned on the rail, staring to the east. She turned to him and held his gaze. The emotions of the last few days were etched on her face, but the soft copper hues of the evening light seemed to wipe away her cares and radiate the warmth of a brighter future. She got up, and, smiling tiredly, came over and stood beside him.

Jack took a deep breath and then looked back at the others.

“Oh, and any of you are welcome to take some R & R at my expense.”

“Sorry, old boy.” Dillen smiled warmly at Jack, his pipe clenched firmly between his teeth. “I have a conference on palaeolinguistics to chair and this little diversion has disrupted my preparations completely. I’m afraid I have to get back to Cambridge tomorrow.”

“And I have Noah’s Ark to find,” Mustafa said nonchalantly. “Not on Mount Ararat but on the shoreline where the southern group beached their vessels before going overland. I need to organise an IMU survey team.”

Jack turned to Hiebermeyer and Aysha. “And I suppose you have some boring old mummies to excavate.”

Hiebermeyer allowed himself a rare smile. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Just don’t find any more treasure maps.”

“Now you mention it, we’ve just had an intriguing report of a discovery in the Hellenistic quarter of the necropolis. Something to do with Alexander the Great, a secret shipment across the Indian Ocean to a far-off mountain kingdom.”

They could see Jack’s interest was immediately excited, his mind already racing over the possibilities.

“And in case you’d forgotten, we still have a Minoan shipwreck to excavate.” Costas had put aside his drink and was surveying the latest reports on his palm computer. “They’ve just brought up some amazing artefacts, golden sheets covered with strangely familiar symbols.” He grinned and looked up at his friend. “So where’s our next project?”

“That’s another story.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The discovery that underpins this story is fictional. However, the archaeological backdrop is as plausible as