Clive Cussler: Atlantis Found

Giordino put his arm around Pitt's shoulder and said wistfully, "I can't think of another mortal I'd rather have stand up for me."

"Have you set a date?"

"Not before six months," answered Pat. "Admiral Sandecker arranged for me to direct the project to decipher and translate the Amenes inscriptions found in the lost city. It will actually take years, but I don't think he'll hold it against me if I go home early for a wedding with Al."

"No," Pitt said, trying to absorb the unexpected promise of Al becoming married. "I don't guess he will."

Lieutenant Miles Jacobs came up and threw a casual salute. "Mr. Pitt? Major Wittenberg would like a word with you."

"Where can I find him?"

"He and General Guerro have set up a command post in one of the aircraft maintenance offices on the far end of the hangar."

"I'm on my way, thank you." Pitt turned and looked at Giordino. "You'd better get Pat situated in one of the empty storerooms- she can use it for living quarters and a base for her inscription project." Then he turned and strode through the turmoil of activity to the military command post.

Wittenberg sat at his desk and gestured to a chair, as Pitt entered one of the offices the Russians slaves had carved out of the ice nearly six decades previously. A communications center had been set up, manned by two operators. The place was a madhouse, with civilians and military personnel rushing in and out. General Guerro sat behind a large metal desk in one corner, surrounded by scientists who were requesting the military rush in special excavation equipment so they could begin removing the ice shroud from the ancient city. He did not look happy as he made excuses for the delay.

"Have you found the relics yet?"

"We've been too busy to search," answered Wittenberg. "I thought I'd pass the buck to you. If you're successful, let me know and I'll schedule a military transport to fly you back to the States."

"I'll get back to you shortly," said Pitt, rising to his feet. "I think I know where the Wolfs put them."

"One more thing, Mr. Pitt," said Wittenberg seriously. "Do not say anything to anyone. It's best the relics are removed quietly, before a lot of crazies get wind of their existence and move heaven and earth to lay their hands on them."

"Why not destroy them and be done with it?"

"Not our call. The President personally ordered them brought to the White House."

"I think I understand," Pitt assured him.

As he walked across the hangar floor, the weight of his responsibility fell over him like a black cloud. Uneasily, he approached the Wolfs' deserted executive jet and studied the mutilated tail section that he had crushed with the Snow Cruiser, before stepping around to the entrance door and entering the darkened interior. In what little light filtered in through the smashed opening and the windows, he could discern an interior luxuriously appointed with leather chairs and sofas. He pulled his flashlight from a pocket and swept its beam around the cabin. There was a bar and credenza with a large TV. The rear compartment of the cabin held a king-size bed in anticipation of its owner's getting a few hours' sleep while the plane was in flight. The bathroom had goldplated fixtures and a small shower. Forward, just behind the cockpit, he could see a small galley, complete with oven, microwave, sink, and cabinets that held crystal glasses and china.

His eyes fell on a long box that was tied to the floor beside the bed. Pitt knelt and ran his hands over the surface. He tried to lift one end, but found it was made out of bronze and extremely heavy. There was a brass plaque embedded in the lid. He shined the light on the lettering and leaned closer. The inscription was in German, but relying on the few words he'd learned, he loosely translated the message as "Here lie the treasures of the ages awaiting resurrection."

He twisted the pins from their hasps and removed them. Then, taking a deep breath, he took both hands and lifted the lid.

There were four objects inside the bronze box, all contained in leather cases and neatly wrapped in heavy linen. He carefully opened the first case and unwrapped the smallest object. It held a small bronze plaque with a crack running through it. The sculptured front side displayed a holy knight killing a dragonlike monster. Pitt would learn later that it was considered a sacred Nazi relic because Hitler had had it in a breast pocket of his uniform during the assassination attempt, when German army dissenters had set off a bomb in his forest headquarters.

The next case held the sacred Nazi flag earlier described by Admiral Sandecker as having been smeared with the blood of a fallen supporter of Hitler who'd been killed when the Bavarian police fired on the fledgling Nazi party members during the Munich Putsch in November of 1923. The bloodstain could easily be seen under the beam of the flashlight. He placed it back inside the linen and the leather case.

Then he opened a long mahogany chest and stared in rapt fascination at the Holy Lance, the lance allegedly used by a Roman centurion to pierce the body of Jesus Christ, the lance Hitler believed would give him control over the destiny of the world. The image of the lance being used to kill Christ on the cross was too overwhelming for Pitt to envision. He gently laid the most sacred relic in Christendom back in the mahogany chest and turned to the largest of the leather cases.

After unwrapping the linen, he discovered that he was holding a heavy urn of solid silver a few inches less than two feet high. The top of the lid was decorated with a black eagle that stood on a gold wreath surrounding an onyx swastika. Just below the lid were inscribed the words Der Fuhrer. Directly beneath were the dates 1889 and 1945 over the runic symbols for the SS. On the base above a ring of swastikas were the names Adolf Hitler and Eva Hitler.

The horror struck Pitt like a blow to the face. The sheer immensity of what he was staring at sent shivers up his spine and a knot twisting inside his stomach, as his face drained of all color. It didn't seem possible that in his hands he was holding the ashes of Adolf Hitler and his mistress/wife, Eva Braun.

When the military passenger aircraft sent to bring Pitt, Giordino, and the relics from Okuma Bay to Washington landed at the airport in Veracruz, Mexico, Pitt questioned the pilot and was told that Admiral Sandecker had sent a NUMA executive jet to carry them the rest of the way. Sweating in the heat and humidity, they hauled the bronze box to the turquoise aircraft with the big NUMA letters on the fuselage that was parked a good hundred yards away.

Except for the pilot and copilot in the cockpit, the plane was deserted. After loading the box and tying it down to the floor, Pitt tried to open the cockpit door, but it was locked. He knocked and waited until a voice came over the cabin speaker.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pitt, but my orders are to keep the cabin door locked and permit no exit or entry of the cockpit until the relics are safely loaded in an armored truck at Andrews Air Force Base."

A security overkill, Pitt thought. He turned to Giordino, who was holding up a green hand. "Where did you get the green palm?"

"From the paint on the door hinge. I grabbed it for support when we loaded the box." He rubbed a finger over the stain. "Not green, turquoise. The paint on this plane isn't dry."

"Looks as if the turquoise paint was sprayed on less than eight hours ago," observed Pitt.

"Could it be we're being hijacked?" asked Giordino.

"Maybe, but we might as well enjoy the scenery below until we can determine we're on the right course for Washington."