The Hunt For Atlantis

“I used to know you,” Chase interrupted. “I thought I knew you. Now? I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going through your head.”

“You should still know that I wouldn’t take on a job if I didn’t believe in what I was doing. That never changed in all the years I knew you. It still hasn’t.”

“So you believe in what you’re doing,” Chase was forced to concede. The Texan had always been consistent in that much, at least. “Doesn’t make it right.”

“There are things I haven’t been proud of, sure. But the alternative’s worse. Which is letting your buddy Frost there get what he wants.”

“I already have what I want, Mr. Starkman,” Frost cut in.

“And why do you want it?” Qobras demanded, still defiant. “You’ve found the last outpost of Atlantis-and a sample of pure Atlantean DNA. But for what purpose?”

Frost gazed down at him, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m almost tempted to let you go to your grave without ever knowing the truth. But…” The smile vanished, his expression turning to stone. “We’re going to remake the world as it should be. With a ruling elite of pureblooded Atlanteans-and the worthless trash of humanity removed.”

Qobras’s disbelief slowly turned to horror. “My God… you’re even more insane than I thought. You never wanted a pure DNA sample so you could identify the rest of your kind-you wanted it so you could immunize yourselves! That lab of yours-you’re using it to create a bioweapon!”

“Wait, what?” said Chase, looking anxiously between the two men. “A bioweapon? Is this true?”

“That doesn’t concern you, Mr. Chase,” Frost replied, not taking his eyes off Qobras. “But now, Giovanni, now that you know the truth, now that you know the Brotherhood has failed… it is over.”

He pulled out his pistol and fired.

He had lied to Nina. It was loaded.

The crack of the shot echoed off the surrounding buildings as the back of Qobras’s skull blew open, splattering the men behind him with gore. Philby screamed, trying to scramble away until one of the guards kicked him back.

“Jesus!” Chase gasped, appalled.

“Get him up,” Frost told one of his men, indicating Philby. The professor shrieked in terror as he was hauled to his feet. “Shut up,” Frost snapped. “We’re taking you with us. Move him away from the others.”

Philby was pulled aside as the other guards, responding to a nod from Schenk, raised their MP-7s to a firing position.

“Wait, wait, stop!” Chase protested, stepping between Starkman and the nearest guard. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just execute them!”

“Actually, Mr. Chase,” said Frost, “I can. In fact, now that I have what I came for…” his expression turned more stony than ever, “I’m terminating your employment.” He barked an order in Norwegian… and Chase found the guards’ guns pointing at him.

“What the fuck is this, boss?” he asked, warily raising his hands. Schenk took his Wildey and pushed him back into the circle of prisoners.

“This is the end,” said Frost. He looked at Schenk. “Restart the timer.”

“There’s only five minutes left,” Schenk replied. “Will that be enough time to get clear?”

“It will if we run.”

“Wait,” said Chase, “after everything you’ve been through to find this place… you’re just going to blow it up?”

Frost shrugged. “I no longer need it. These DNA samples are worth more than any amount of ancient treasure. Start the timer,” he ordered Schenk again. The German nodded and moved to obey.

“I told you,” Starkman muttered to Chase.

“So you’re just going to leave us in here with the bomb?” Chase asked.

Frost sniffed dismissively. “No, I’m going to kill you so you can’t stop the countdown. Ready!”

Each of the guns found a target. Chase saw at least two aimed at him.

Shit!

He needed a plan, fast.

But he had no gun, nobody to back him up.

Unless-

He stepped back as if cringing away from the guns, bumping into the kneeling Starkman. “Jason? Going to need a flash of inspiration here…”

Starkman shifted position behind him, raised hands nudging against Chase’s side.

His little finger reached out, and pulled.

Frost took in a breath, about to issue the order to fire-

Starkman flicked one of the flash grenades from Chase’s belt, the pin still hanging from his finger. They clapped their hands over their ears as the dark metal cylinder arced to the floor behind them-

The clank as the grenade hit stone drew the attention of all Frost’s men, eyes involuntarily darting to it-

The dazzling flash of igniting aluminum powder and potassium perchlorate was followed a millisecond later by a deafening bang as the grenade exploded, hitting the senses of anyone looking at it like a blow to the head. Even though the blast was only a fraction of the explosive force of a lethal grenade, it was still strong enough to knock the two nearest guards off their feet.

“Go!” yelled Chase, opening his eyes.

Years of training and experience told him everything he needed to know in a split second. The men circling the prisoners, including Frost, had been caught off guard by the grenade and were briefly blinded and disoriented. But the rest of Frost’s men, farther away, were less affected. And they were already reacting.

He drove a fist into the face of the nearest guard, feeling his nose flatten under the crunching impact. Behind him, Starkman sprang to his feet to deliver a powerhouse blow to the throat of another man.

Chase snatched the MP-7 from the guard he’d just hit and swung it around. A swath of fire spat from the compact weapon’s barrel. The unique 4.6-millimeter ammo of the MP-7 was specifically designed to penetrate body armor-at point-blank range, it ripped straight through everyone it hit.

He caught four of Frost’s men with the burst. They fell, jets of blood spurting from the holes punched through their armor. The more distant men dived for cover, unable to shoot back without endangering their comrades.

Another crackle of gunfire erupted behind him as Starkman opened up at the guards on the other side of the circle. Three men dropped, the cordon broken.

Chase saw that a couple of the prisoners had managed to protect their ears and were lashing out at their captors. The others were as dazed as Frost’s men.

There was nothing he could do for them. Individual survival was all that counted right now.

He spun to see Frost reeling, clutching his head. If he took out Frost, his plan would stop right here…

The young blond man, Rucker, sprung from seemingly nowhere and tackled Frost to the ground as Chase brought up his gun. He fired anyway, but the MP-7 clicked empty after just two shots. Holes exploded in Rucker’s back. The bullets hadn’t reached Frost.

And with their boss flat on the ground, the other men could open fire-

Beyond the mausoleum, Chase saw the Temple of Poseidon. The third one he’d seen-and the first two had been identical inside.

He smashed an elbow into the face of one of the remaining guards and sprinted away. “Get to the temple!” he shouted.

No time to see who was following him, and no time to care either. Off to one side, near the golden wall, Schenk crouched by the bomb. But there was nothing Chase could do to stop him from restarting the timer-the guards were firing!

Bullets sizzling past him, he ran like hell for the Temple of Poseidon.