The Covenant of Genesis

temperatures a hundred and thirty thousand years ago were a blip, relatively speaking, only lasting a couple of thousand years; they were followed by an ice age. And if the temperature fell at the equator, you can imagine how much colder it got at the poles. They had to leave, or freeze to death.’

‘And then they got eaten by killer kangaroos,’ said Chase ruefully.

Nina put down the cylinders. ‘But we can find where they lived. Ribbsley’s translation said they built the city in a valley near the sea, and when they left they dammed up the valley and flooded it. So it’ll still be there - in a frozen lake under the ice.’

‘And how are we supposed to find that?’ Sophia said sceptically.

Nina grinned. ‘I know just the man to ask . . .’

18

Sydney

‘Hey, Nina!’ cried Matt Trulli. ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Kinda weirdly, to be honest,’ Nina replied. They embraced, Nina kissing his cheek. ‘Great to see you again, Matt.’

‘Well, you timed it right,’ said the pudgy, spike-haired Australian. ‘Another day and you’d have missed me - I’m off to Antarctica for three weeks! Flying out to the survey ship tomorrow. This your first time in Oz?’

‘Yeah. Seems a nice place, though.’ She looked up at the Victorian Classical architecture of Sydney Hospital.

‘Nice place?’ Trulli hooted in mock offence. ‘That the best you’ve got to say?’

‘Hey, c’mon,’ Nina said, grinning, ‘I’m a New Yorker. Nothing compares!’ She tipped her head towards the nearby statue: a large boar, dark all over its body except for the snout, which was the sculpture’s natural bronze. ‘I do like this, though.’

‘Oh, Il Porcellino?’ he said with some pride. ‘Great little fella, everyone loves him. Rub his nose - it’ll bring you good luck.’

‘I could certainly use some.’ Nina rubbed the pig’s snout, then touched her pendant for added fortune. ‘Il Porcellino, though? Doesn’t sound very Australian.’

‘Nah, the original’s from Italy - just like my grandad!’ Trulli stroked the statue’s snout as well, then turned back to Nina. ‘So, what brings you down under?’

‘Long story.’

‘I’ve got time. Come on, we’ll take a stroll. The Opera House is just up the road - we’ll grab a coffee.’

They started northwards, heading towards the harbour. As they walked, Nina gave him a potted account of her recent discoveries and exploits - minus, for the moment, any mention of Sophia or Dalton. ‘Crikey,’ Trulli muttered when she finished. ‘Sounds like these Covenant blokes are bad news.’ He suddenly looked worried. ‘They won’t be coming after me now, will they?’

‘They won’t know we’ve met you,’ Nina assured him. ‘Hopefully they don’t even know that we’re in Sydney. We were watching for people following us while we drove across the country. Didn’t see anyone suspicious.’

Trulli glanced nervously over his shoulder, as if expecting to see assassins springing out from every corner. ‘Hope you’re right. The way you attract trouble, you really do need all the luck you can get.’

‘Luck, and the help of good friends,’ she corrected. ‘Oh, by the way, how was the champagne?’

‘Oh, ripper, thanks! You said you’d send me a thank-you gift, and you weren’t kidding. Two cases of proper vintage bubbly shipped to my door? Hell of a nice surprise.’

‘Well, you did save our lives.’

‘By phone, too!’ said Trulli. ‘Didn’t even have to get my feet wet, for a change.’

‘Hopefully you won’t have to this time, either,’ said Nina as they reached the harbour front. Ahead, over the sparkling water, rose the impressive arch of Sydney Harbour Bridge. She took in the sight. ‘Okay,’ she admitted, ‘maybe, just maybe, that’s almost as good as the Brooklyn Bridge.’

‘Ah, give it a rest, Nina. We’ve got you beat and you know it. And you haven’t even seen the Opera House yet.’

‘Funny how you stop worrying about bad guys when your Aussie pride’s at stake,’ Nina remarked with amusement.

‘Well, a man’s got to have his priorities!’ Trulli smiled, then became more serious as they continued along the harbour. ‘So these Covenant guys, they’re looking for some lost city, but you think you can beat them to it. What do you need from me?’

‘Maps, to start with,’ she told him. ‘UNARA did a complete radar survey of Antarctica not long ago, didn’t they?’ The United Nations Antarctic Research Agency was a sister organisation to the IHA, and Trulli’s current employer.

‘Sure did - it’s what I used to pick a test site for the project. The ice is over four kilometres thick in some places, but the satellite scans were still able to reach the bedrock. Any underground lakes should be on the map.’

‘Do you have a copy of GLUG on your computer?’ He nodded. ‘Great. That should narrow things down.’ She tried to visualise the frozen continent. ‘Is there any land down there that’s above the Antarctic Circle?’

‘Yeah. Actually, the test site’s above it - the Wilkes Coast. I picked it because it’s about as warm as the place gets, and it’s in Australian territory.’

‘All the comforts of home, huh?’

They rounded a large apartment building, and for the first time the instantly recognisable stacked-seashell shape of the Sydney Opera House on its low headland was revealed to Nina. She had seen it many times in photographs and on TV, but viewed in person it was still a startling piece of design.

‘See? Now tell me you’ve got anything like that in New York,’ Trulli said gloatingly, seeing her expression.

‘The Guggenheim?’ Nina suggested. He made a dismissive noise. ‘Oh, all right, I’ll give you a point. Just one, mind.’ They shared a smile.

‘Glad to hear it. But yeah, I should be able to help you find this lake, no problem. Then what?’

‘Right now, just finding the thing’s my first concern. Then Eddie and I can start worrying about what to do next.’

‘Where is Eddie, by the way?’ Trulli asked.

‘He’s gone to visit an old friend . . .’

Chase stared at the twin sawn-off shotgun barrels pointing at his chest. ‘Is that any way to say hello to an old friend?’ he asked, hands raised.

A figure emerged from the darkness behind the gun, regarding him suspiciously. ‘Eddie?’ said the shaven- headed, thick-necked man. ‘Eddie Chase?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

The shotgun was lowered, the man’s frown replaced by a sunny smile. ‘Why didn’t you say so, you stupid pommie bastard? Come in, mate! Eddie Chase, fuck me!’

‘No thanks, you’re not my type,’ said Chase, returning the grin and lowering his hands. ‘I’ve got someone with me - okay if she comes in?’

‘Sure, mate, sure!’ The man stepped forward, revealing multiple tattoos. He squinted at the bright daylight, then raised a bushy eyebrow as the Englishman unlocked the handcuff bracelet that he’d used to secure the annoyed Sophia to the run-down bungalow’s porch. ‘Public bondage, mate? Save that for the mardi gras.’

‘I didn’t want her doing a runner,’ Chase explained.

Sophia pulled her arm away from him, the empty bracelet dangling from her wrist. ‘Yes, because this charming neighbourhood is exactly the kind of place where I want to start a new life.’

The man looked her up and down, impressed. ‘Christ, Eddie. Is she a crimo or a supermodel?’

‘Definitely the first one,’ Chase told him, leading her inside. ‘Sophia, this is an old mate of mine from the Australian SAS, Bob “Bluey” Jackson. Bluey, this is . . . my ex-wife. Sophia.’

‘Ex-wife?’ Bluey said. ‘You must have had termites in that fucking wooden blockhead of yours to let a cracker like her slip out of your hands!’

‘Oh, Bluey Jackson,’ said Sophia icily. ‘You know, I think Eddie might have