Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

Chase turned the binoculars to the surrounding hills. “Don’t suppose we could just blow up a power line and cut off the electricity, could we?”

“There you go again! And no, the fortress has its own generators.”

“Thought it might.” He lowered the binoculars, thinking. “You said from outside there’s only those two ways in. There’s something inside?”

“There is another way, yes.” Shala looked over her shoulder. “Dr. Wilde, please can you pass me the blue rucksack?” Nina complied, pulling it from among the other bundles in the van’s rear bed. Shala rifled through its contents, taking out a set of architectural blueprints. “My father obtained these before the revolution. He hoped to use them to get into the fortress and assassinate the shah, but unfortunately the revolution happened first.”

Nina frowned, confused. “Wasn’t the revolution supposed to get rid of the shah?”

“Different revolutionaries,” said Chase enigmatically.

“He decided to keep them in case the ayatollah stayed here, but he never did. Maybe they can help you, though.” Shala tapped a fingernail on the blueprint’s bottom corner. “There is a shaft up to the service basement level of the fortress. It was built for access to the sewage outflow that leads to the river.”

Nina wrinkled her nose. “Ew. They just pump it right into the river?”

“Literally crapping on the people,” said Chase. “But this shaft, we can get to it from the outflow pipe?”

“Yes. But there is one problem…”

Castille clapped a hand to his forehead. “Ah, of course there is.”

“The pipe,” said Shala, “it is… quite small. Too small for you to fit into, Eddie. And you too, Hugo, I am afraid.”

“No need to apologize,” Castille replied. “Crawling through a pipe full of merde? I have, as the saying goes, been there, done that… ruined the T-shirt.”

“So, too small for me and Hugo, eh?” said Chase. “Hafez isn’t in any state for it either, and we can’t exactly send you and the sprog…” A sly grin slowly appeared on his face. “Dr. Wilde…”

“Yes?” It struck Nina a moment too late exactly why he was smiling. Everyone looked expectantly back at her. “No!”

The upper levels of Hajjar’s home were as ostentatious and overblown as its exterior, Kari saw as she and Volgan were brought from the cells. The illicit trade in ancient Persian treasures had clearly been a highly profitable one, and it appeared Hajjar spent a good proportion of his profits on decorations and fittings made of gold. Unlike her own family, in this case wealth did not denote taste.

Hajjar’s office was a circular room in the highest domed tower. The click of her heels on the polished marble floor echoed through the open space. Hajjar himself was seated behind a huge semicircular desk, itself marble-topped and trimmed in gold. On the wall behind him was a massive plasma screen, and Kari noticed the black shark eye of a video camera in its lower bezel.

“Ms. Frost! Yuri!” Hajjar boomed with utterly insincere heartiness. “So glad you could make it!”

“Don’t waste my time, Hajjar,” said Kari coldly. “Just tell me what you want.”

Hajjar looked mildly offended. “Very well. I am about to have a videoconference call with your father, and I wanted you to be here so I can assure him of my… intent. He is a very hard man to get hold of, by the way. I was becoming impatient.”

“He has a lot going on.”

“Mm, I’m sure. He was almost as hard to contact as your rival, Mr. Qobras.”

“You spoke to Qobras?” gulped Volgan.

“Not yet in person, but soon. After all, for something as important as this…” he reached out and picked up the Atlantean artifact from its bed of velvet on his desk, the gleaming reflections from its surface illuminating his face like fire, “I knew he would want to talk to me.”

“Whatever Qobras is willing to pay you for the artifact, my father will pay more,” said Kari.

“I’m sure he will, but I’m afraid it and Yuri come as a pair. And Qobras is apparently very keen to see him again.”

“Please, Miss Frost,” Volgan begged, “you’ve got to help me. Qobras will kill me!” His frenzied eyes fixed on the artifact in Hajjar’s hands. “I can tell you more about the piece-I can tell you more about Qobras! I worked for him for twelve years, I know his secrets-”

Hajjar clicked his fingers, and one of the guards clubbed Volgan with his gun. His hands still cuffed behind his back, the Russian fell heavily onto the slick marble.

“Enough,” said Hajjar. A soft chime from the computer on his desk drew his attention, and he smiled. “Ms. Frost, your father is calling. If you would stand in the view of the camera?” Her guard shoved her forward. “Thank you. And get him out of the way.” The other guard dragged Volgan across the floor like a sack of flour.

Hajjar tapped at the computer, then swiveled his red leather chair to face the giant screen. It lit up with the image of Kristian Frost in his office at Ravnsfjord. Frost’s eyes flicked to one side, looking at a screen of his own. “Kari!”

“Mr. Frost,” said Hajjar before she could answer, “I’m so pleased that you finally contacted me. I thought the life of your daughter would be more important than your business schedule.” He let out a self-satisfied chuckle.

Frost regarded him with utter contempt. “Kari, are you all right? Has this… person mistreated you?”

“I’m fine-for the moment,” she told him.

“What about the artifact? And Dr. Wilde?”

“Dr. Wilde was arrested by the Iranian army and will be tried for illegal trading in antiquities,” Hajjar cut in, “and probably for her complicity in the murder of several soldiers as well. As for the artifact… that is no longer any concern of yours.”

“How much do you want, Hajjar?”

The Iranian leaned back in his chair. “Straight to business, I see. Very well. For the safe return of your daughter, I want ten million dollars, U.S. ”

“In addition to the ten million I already paid you for the artifact?” Frost growled.

“In the interests of efficiency, you can even transfer it to the same account,” said Hajjar smugly.

“And the artifact?”

“As I said, that is no longer for sale.”

“Not even for another ten million?”

There was a long pause before Hajjar answered, the dealer’s greed clearly threatening to overturn his plans. “No, not even for that,” he said at last, with obvious reluctance.

“Fifteen million.”

Hajjar flinched. He half turned, looking back at Kari. “You value this… this piece of metal more than your own daughter?”

“I would have offered twenty,” she told him.

On the big screen, Frost’s face gave away a brief flicker of pride before turning to stone once more. “Twenty million, then.”

Hajjar was lost for words, eyes darting back and forth between the Frosts before he hurriedly swung around to face the screen. “No! No, the artifact is not for sale to you, at any price! Ten million dollars for your daughter, that is the only deal I am making. You will call me back in one hour to confirm the transfer. One hour!” He whirled around again and stabbed at the computer, terminating the call before Frost could speak.

“Hajjar,” said Kari, fake admiration in her voice, “I’m impressed! Not many men could stand up to my father like that. Especially to turn down twenty million dollars.”

Hajjar scuttled around the desk to her. “Twenty million!” he screeched, before clearing his throat. “Twenty million dollars!” he repeated. “For this, this thing?” He waved his hook hand at the artifact. “What is it? What is so important about this piece?”