The Hunt For Atlantis

“The hell with Frost,” Laura snorted, “this is our discovery. All he did was help with the funding.”

“Now, now,” said Henry, jokingly patting her shoulder. “At least thanks to him we didn’t have to choose between breaking into our daughter’s college fund or selling our car!” He looked around. “Sonam, is there anything else here? Any other rooms or passages?”

“No,” replied Sonam. “It’s a dead end.”

“Oh,” said Laura, disappointed. “This is all there is? I mean, it’s a hell of a find, but I was sure there’d be more…”

“There might still be more,” Henry assured her. “There could be other tombs along the ledge. We’ll keep looking.”

He went back down the passage and returned to the bodies, Laura and Jack following. The corpses were huddled inside antiquated cold-weather gear, empty eye sockets staring back at him from darkened, parchmentlike skin. “I wonder if Krauss is one of them?”

“He is.” Laura pointed at one of the figures. “There’s our expedition leader.”

“How do you know?”

She moved her gloved finger towards the body, almost touching its chest. Henry brought the lantern closer to see a small metal badge attached to the material, an insignia…

A momentary chill, unconnected to the cold, ran through him. It was the death’s-head of the Schutzstaffel-the SS. It was over half a century since the organization had been destroyed, yet it still had the power to evoke fear.

“Jurgen Krauss,” he said at last, peering more closely at the dead man. There was a certain poetic irony to the fact that the leader of the Nazi expedition now resembled the skull on his SS insignia. “Never thought I’d meet you. But what brought you here?”

“Why not find out?” asked Laura. “His pack’s right there; it’s probably got all his notebooks inside. Take a look.”

“Wait, you want me to do that?”

“Well, obviously! I’m not touching a dead Nazi!”

“Jack?”

Jack shook his head. “These bodies are rather more recent than I’m used to dealing with.”

“Wuss,” Henry chided with a grin. He reached around the corpse, trying to disturb it as little as possible as he opened its backpack.

The contents were prosaic at first: a flashlight with bubbles of corrosion from the long- decayed batteries, crumpled pieces of greaseproof paper containing the expedition’s last scraps of food. But beneath these remnants, things became more interesting. Folded maps, leather-bound notebooks, sheets of paper bearing rubbings of more carved Glozel characters, a scoured sheet of copper with what looked like a map or chart scored into its surface… and something carefully wrapped in layers of what he was surprised to discover was dark velvet.

Laura took the copper piece. “Sand-worn… do you think they might have found this in Morocco?”

“It’s possible.” The notebooks should have been the first items Henry examined, but he was intrigued enough by the mystery object-flat, just under a foot long and surprisingly heavy-that he placed it carefully on the ground next to the lantern and peeled back the velvet.

“What’s that?” asked Laura.

“No idea. I think it’s metal, though.” The velvet, stiffened by time and cold, reluctantly gave up its contents as Henry pulled away the last layer.

“Wow,” Laura gasped. Jack’s eyes widened in amazement.

Inside the velvet wrapping was a metal bar some two inches wide, one end rounded off and marked with an arrowhead stamped into the surface. Even under the cold blue light of the lantern, the object had a radiance, sparkling with a reddish-golden glow unlike anything else found in nature.

Henry, transfixed, bent down for a better look. In contrast to the piece Laura was holding, the bar showed no signs of age or weathering, seeming freshly polished. The metal wasn’t gold or bronze, but…

Laura leaned closer as well, her breath briefly condensing on the cold surface. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Looks like it. My God. I can’t believe it. The Nazis actually found an artifact made of orichalcum, just like Plato described. A real, honest-to-God Atlantean artifact! And they had it fifty years ago!”

“You owe Nina an apology when we get home,” quipped Laura. “She always thought that piece she found in Morocco was orichalcum.”

“I guess I do,” said Henry, carefully picking up the bar. “There’s no way this is just off-color bronze.” The underside, he noticed, was not flat-there was a circular protrusion at the squared-off end. In the same position on the top side was a small slot at a forty-five-degree angle. “I think this was part of something larger,” he observed. “Like it was meant to hang from something.”

“Or swing from it,” Laura suggested. “Like a pendulum arm.”

Henry ran a fingertip along the inscribed arrowhead. “A pointer?”

“What are those marks?” asked Jack. Running along the length of the artifact was a thin line, equally faint symbols scribed into the metal on each side. A series of tiny dots, arranged in groups of up to eight. Also visible were…

“More Glozel characters,” said Henry. “But not quite the same as the ones in the tomb-look, some of these are more like hieroglyphics.” He compared them to the ones on the rubbings. They were the same style. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

Jack looked more closely. “They look a lot like Olmec, or something related. Bizarre mix…”

“What do they say?” asked Laura.

“No idea. It’s not exactly a language I’m fluent in. Well, not yet.” He coughed modestly.

“They look like they were added after it was made,” Henry noted. “The inscribing’s much cruder than the arrowhead.” He returned the mysterious object to the velvet. “This justifies us coming here all on its own!” He jumped to his feet and let out a triumphant whoop, then hugged Laura. “We did it! We actually found proof that Atlantis wasn’t just a myth!”

She kissed him. “Now all we need to do is find Atlantis itself, huh?”

“Well, one step at a time.”

A shout from deeper inside the cave caught their attention. “Something down here, Professor!” called Sonam.

Leaving the artifact on the floor, Henry and Laura hurried to the Tibetan. “Look at this,” Sonam said, holding up his light to the tomb wall. “I thought it was just a crack in the rock, but then I realized something.” Pulling off one glove, he stuck the tip of his little finger into the vertical crack and slowly ran it up the wall. “It’s exactly the same width all the way up. And there’s another one just like it over there.” He pointed at a spot on the wall about nine feet away.

“A door?” asked Laura.

Henry followed the path of the crack upwards, using his flashlight to pick out a barely discernible line running horizontally some eight feet above. “Big door. Jack’s got to see this.” He raised his voice. “Jack? Jack!” Nothing but echoes came back to him. “Where is he?”

Laura shook her head. “Hell of a time to take a leak. The most important archaeological find of the century and-”

“Professor Wilde!” One of the other Tibetans. “Some thing outside! Listen!”

The group fell silent, barely breathing. A low thudding noise became audible, rapid beats underscored by a rumbling whine.

“A helicopter?” Laura exclaimed in disbelief. “Here?”

“Come on,” snapped Henry, running for the entrance. The sky outside had darkened considerably. He used the rope to pull himself up the pile of rubble, Laura behind him.

“Chinese military?” Laura asked.

“How did they know where we were? Even we didn’t know exactly where we were going until we got to Xulaodang.” Henry squeezed through the entrance and stepped out onto the broad ledge. The weather was definitely deteriorating; the wind had picked up considerably.