Jemma shielded her eyes to study the long line of expensive yachts moored up at the marina. “I don’t get it.”
“The bigger the yacht, the more chance there is of this working,” Bodie said. “I remember back when we were searching for a way to get down to Atlantis and later, when we went back. They make professional submersibles for private yachts and some of those bad boys can do three thousand meters. They’re easy to operate, ergo they’re for personal use and based on patented submarine technology.”
“Personal subs?” Cassidy frowned. “I didn’t know they made them.”
“Yeah,” Bodie said. “These things have everything. They dock to yachts, have easy entry configurations, underwater video, 360-degree camera systems, and robotic manipulator arms.”
Cassidy was staring at him. “Sounds like you wanted to buy one of the damn things.”
Bodie sighed regretfully. “I did,” he said. “Most of the seabed is unexplored. Imagine what we might find down there.”
He then found himself alone, as the women walked ahead, shaking their heads. Bodie hurried to catch up. “What do you think?”
“You wanna borrow a submersible and sail it to Atlantis?” Lucie said. “Sounds a bit bonkers to me.”
“No, no,” Bodie said. “That isn’t bonkers. I want to borrow a superyacht, sail that to Atlantis, and then use the onboard sub to collect our ore sample.”
“You’re serious?” Cassidy stopped and grabbed the handrail that bordered the dock as if to steady herself. “I won’t lie. I do like the idea. It’s proper, full-on relic hunter badness. But collecting that ore will take time. And someone’s gonna notice their superyacht is missing.”
“It has to be worth the risk,” Bodie said. “We do it at the right time, the right way, with the right plan in place...” He glanced at Jemma. “I’m sure we can pull it off.”
Jemma shook her head, but she was smiling. “Talk about a challenge,” she said, and set off back toward the town. “I’m gonna need coffee, and lots of it.”
Bodie grinned at her back and then at the others. “Stick with me,” he said. “I’m just a thrill a minute.”
“Either that,” Cassidy grumbled. “Or you’ll land us in jail, or in the clutches of the Illuminati, or back in a CIA black site.”
She had a point, but Bodie couldn’t see another way. Atlantis was probably the hardest site of the ten to penetrate. They couldn’t just leave it until last and hope something changed. They were here now. The game between them and the Illuminati was well and truly on.
The risk was worth it.
*
After midnight, with no moon and a blanket of clouds hiding the stars, it was the perfect time for Bodie and his crew to embark on their elaborate plan. They waited until the late revelers had dispersed from the marina area before venturing out separately, dressed in dark clothing but still able to pass as tourists, and carrying backpacks.
Jemma had spent some time earlier taking photos of the yachts, and identified the ideal candidate—a four-deck, pure white, sixty-meter pleasure vessel called the Dooley, probably another reference to the old movie with the same name as the city.
In plain sight, sitting on deck, sat an impressive private submarine with lowering ropes and pulleys attached. As an afterthought, Yasmine had also proposed that they would need a getaway boat, as the yacht might well be compromised by the time they’d collected the ore. The Dooley had a powerful speedboat tethered to her stern.
The boardwalk creaked under their weight. A soft wind blew in across the ocean from the west. The waters inside the harbor were calm. Bodie strode alongside one superyacht, ignoring it but keeping an eye out for movement. It was late. Anyone still around at this time of night would either be a guard or a miserable insomniac, neither of which could be ruled out. He carried a camera and a notebook so that, if caught, he could pretend that he was a dedicated “boat-spotter.” He walked to the far end of the dock, slowing as the Dooley came into view.
The deck was higher than he was, the boarding platform removed for the night. Bodie waited for the others to catch up.
“Ready?” he asked.
They nodded. It was all a matter of speed now. Bodie knelt down. First Jemma and then Cassidy stepped onto his back and pulled themselves up on deck. Yasmine followed and then Lucie. Bodie rose, reached up and grabbed the hands that were reaching down to help haul him up.
Seconds later, they were on deck, staying low. The yacht itself wasn’t lit and there were no signs of life, but Bodie had to assume at least some crew would be on board. They crossed the deck to the nearest door and tried the handle.
No luck. Jemma stepped up, using a set of picks on the relatively simple locking mechanism. Bodie pushed at the door when she was done, stepping over the threshold and entering a darkened room complete with snooker table, bar and plush corner sofas. A soft waft of air conditioning circulated around the room. Bodie crossed to a far door and cracked it open.
Cassidy and Yasmine were at his back, ready to act. Bodie saw only a murky corridor. Moving on, he cleared the deck and then descended the stairs to lower levels. In all, four of six bedrooms were empty, but two were occupied by sleeping men.
When they’d checked the entire boat, Bodie motioned for Cass and Yasmine to get ready.
“Quick and painless,” he whispered.
They ran into the first room, moved close to the bed and grabbed the sleeping man’s arms, pinning them to the bed. When he woke, panicked, Yasmine leaned in and put a finger to her lips.
“Make no
