Thomas Greanias: The Atlantis revelation

Officially, the Bilderberg Group brought together European and American royalty in the form of heads of state, central banks, and multinational corporations to freely discuss the events of the day away from the glare of the press. Unofficially, conspiracy buffs suspected the Bilderbergers set the world's agenda, orchestrating wars and global financial panics at will to advance some totalitarian one-world government that would arise from the ashes.

"I'm thinking Midas is a member of the Alignment," Conrad told Andros.

Andros looked at Conrad as if he were talking about Atlantis, which in a way he was, as the Alignment considered themselves to be the custodians of the lost civilization's mysteries. "I'll have the doctor check the oxygen in your blood again."

"The Bilderberg Group is the closest real-world equivalent to the Alignment that I know of," Conrad said. "If there are any Alignment members left on the planet, it stands to reason that at least a few of them would be members of the Bilderbergers and use the group as a proxy to advance the Alignment's agenda."

"Just as the Alignment used the Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Knights Templar, Freemasons, USA, and Third Reich?" Andros said, holding up the half-empty bottle of Metaxa with a knowing smile.

Conrad put down the Zeiss glasses and looked Andros in the eye. "I think I know a way into the party tonight."

Andros frowned. "Who is she?"

"According to Google, she's his latest girlfriend, Mercedes Le Roche."

"Of Le Roche Media Generale?"

Conrad nodded. "Her father," he said. "She used to be my producer on Ancient Riddles."

"You're crazy," Andros said. "Put this insane idea out of your head. Get off the island before Midas figures out you survived. Get out while you still can."

"I have to find out what Midas intends to do with that weapon," Conrad said.

"Maybe sell it?"

"He doesn't need the money. He's Midas."

"True," said Andros. "You say this Flammenschwert is Greek fire?"

"No, you said it's Greek fire. I said it's a weapon that turns water to fire."

"Greek fire," Andros repeated. "But we Greeks have always called it liquid or artificial fire. We used it to repel the Muslim Arabs at the first and second Sieges of Constantinople in the sixth and seventh centuries. That's how Europe survived Islam for over a thousand years."

"But how did Greek fire work?"

"To this day, nobody really knows," Andros said. "The ingredients and manufacturing process were closely guarded military secrets. The emperor Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus even warned his son in a book to never give away three things to a foreigner: a crown; the hand of a Greek princess; and the secret of liquid fire. All we know is that Greek fire could burn on water and was extremely difficult to extinguish. The sight of it alone was enough to demoralize the enemy. My father always suspected that it was petroleum-based and spiked with an early form of napalm."

"Maybe," Conrad said. "But I think that the petroleum jelly your forefathers used was a crude copy of something far more devastating. Something that used a uranium-like ore that could actually consume water like oxygen, not just burn on its surface. Where did you say Greek fire came from?"

"I didn't," Andros said. "But tradition says it was cooked up by chemists in Constantinople, who inherited the discoveries of the ancient Alexandrian chemical school."

Conrad nodded. "Who inherited the discoveries of the Atlantean school. Only the Alexandrians didn't have access to Oreichalkos."

"Oreichalkos?" Andros looked mystified.

"The mysterious ore or 'shining metal' mined by the people of Atlantis, according to your ancient philosopher Plato," Conrad said. "Plato called it 'mountain copper.' He described it as a pure, almost supernatural alloy that sparkled like fire. I've seen it before."

"In Antarctica," Andros said with condescension. "Pish. Atlantis was the Greek island of Santorini. I have a hotel there."

"Let's not get into that debate now," Conrad said. "The point is that this technology is older than mere Greek fire. I witnessed what a speck of it can do. I think Midas could fry oceans with it. But which one?"

"My grandfather said Hitler wanted to use it in the Mediterranean," Andros said. "The Nazis wanted to protect Fortress Europe with a moat of fire and burn the warships of the Allied invasion fleet before they could land. Von Berg, however, wanted to use it to dry up the Mediterranean and proclaim its one million square miles as the new Atlantis."

"Too big, I think, and this is a new century." Conrad shook his head. "Where else in today's world?"

"Where it can do the most damage," said Andros confidently. "The Persian Gulf."

Conrad paused. Here Andros, whose family's tankers brought oil to and from the Persian Gulf, knew what he was talking about. "Go on."

"Midas is in deep with the Russians, and they're running out of production. Best way to boost prices is to cut supply-preferably somebody else's. Especially when the Americans depend on it. What better way to disrupt oil shipments through the Persian Gulf than to set it on fire? Who knows how long it would burn with this weapon?"

"Pretty good."

"I think so," said Andros. "So now you tell your friends at the Pentagon and call it a day."

"Or you get me into the Bilderberg bash."

Andros looked at the imposing Achillion on the hilltop beyond the bay. "My money reaches the Greek police. But the Bilderbergers bring their own security. Even I can't get into that club."

"They publish their guest lists. Maybe I can go as somebody else before they show up. Say hello to Mercedes, get something out of her before Midas knows what's going on."

"And kills you?"

"In front of all the other Bilderbergers? No. I know guys like Midas. Appearances and respectability are paramount. He won't lay a finger on me in front of Europe's rich and powerful."

"No, he'll simply kill you as soon as you step foot out of the palace."

Conrad studied Andros. "What's going on? I say Midas, and your knees start shaking. The guy blows up your boat, kills your crew, and almost kills me, your good friend. Odysseus would have had three arrows in this guy's throat by now."

Andros, in turn, studied him. "You were not always so vengeful. I want to meet the woman who hurt you so badly. So I can introduce her to my rival shipowners in Athens."

Conrad looked out at the lush green esplanade of Corfu town and thought of Serena. "When you find her, let me know. Because she's not taking my calls."

"Forget her," Andros said. "How did you leave things with Mercedes?"

Conrad said nothing.

"I thought so," said Andros. "Why should she tell you anything about Midas or his operations? More important, what makes you think Midas would have told her anything of value that she could pass on to you? My rule is the less a woman knows, the better."

"Which explains the women you go out with," Conrad said. "Look at that boat he named after himself. You know that the richer a man gets, the smarter he thinks he is. Midas is an arrogant bastard, and I'm willing to bet that in his hubris, he's let Mercedes see more about his operations than he's realized."

"Are you willing to bet your life?"

"I did that a long time ago. Midas took his shot this morning. And I'm still here."

"So is he, my friend. And he has an inexhaustible supply of henchmen and money. You are only one man."

Conrad poured some of the brandy into a glass, gave it to Andros, and then held up his bottle in a toast. "What about my buddy the Greek tycoon, who is going to get me into that Bilderberg party tonight?"

There were lights and music coming from the Achillion Palace that evening, but no crowds of onlookers, no paparazzi to snap photos as the guests stepped out of their limousines and entered the palace. And the glamour quotient took a distant backseat to the power quotient. Everything was understated and discreet, save for the music: Coldplay live in concert. Actually, it struck Conrad as odd-a bit of contemporary fizz thrown on a very old-world gathering.