Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

“What are you doing here, Jonathan?” Nina blurted, thinking-hoping-this was a joke. Of all the people in the world Kristian Frost could have called upon to help analyze the artifact, he had chosen Professor Jonathan Philby?

“I think that’s the reason,” said Philby, looking down at the object Nina was carrying, wrapped in its cloth. “I got a call yesterday morning from none other than Kristian Frost, who told me that you’d helped find a most remarkable item but were having difficulty translating what was written on it. He asked if I would be willing to help you out. It was rather short notice, but…” He glanced at Kari. “Your father does have a way of making offers that can’t be refused!”

“Horse’s head in your bed?” asked Chase.

Philby looked at him uncomprehendingly. “No, a rather generous donation to the university. And, well, a flight in a private jet! Not something I’ve had the plea sure of before.”

“So, Jonathan,” said Nina, looking at him askance, “since when did you become the world’s greatest expert on ancient languages?”

“Really, Nina,” said Philby, “not wanting to blow my own trumpet, but I would have hoped you’d read my recent papers for the IJA. I think it’s fair to say that I’m one of the top five authorities in the world on the subject, and certainly the top man in the West. Although I’m sure Ribbsley at Cambridge would disagree!” He chortled at his joke, stopping when he realized that the absence of undergraduates in the room meant nobody else was laughing with him. “Well then,” he continued, “shall we have a look at what you’ve found?”

Nina carefully placed the artifact on the table as Kari adjusted a lamp to illuminate it. Philby’s eyes widened. “Oh, now that’s… that’s remarkable.” He looked up at Kari. “May I hold it?”

“Please do.”

Philby picked up the artifact, weighing it in his hands. “Heavy, but not pure gold, the color’s wrong… a gold-bronze-no, more like a gold and copper mix?”

“The word you’re looking for,” said Nina pointedly, “is orichalcum.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. Has a metallurgical analysis been done yet?”

“Not of the entire piece,” said Kari, “but a small sample has been tested, yes.”

“And?”

“And I believe Dr. Wilde is correct.”

Nina gave Philby a self-satisfied nod.

“I see.” Philby clearly had more to say, but kept it to himself. He turned the artifact over. “Small circular protrusion on the underside, and on the top surface… ah!” He shot Nina a smug smile. “Nina, I’m disappointed! Surely you can translate this!”

“I’ve translated most of it,” Nina snapped. “It’s a map, directions up a river to a city. I couldn’t identify the other characters, but they’re definitely not Glozel.”

“Well of course they’re not,” said Philby. “But really! How could you not recognize Olmec inscriptions?”

She looked more closely. “What? Those aren’t Olmec.”

“Not classical Olmec, but the family resemblances are unmistakable. Don’t you see?” He indicated certain characters. “Some of the symbols have been inverted or restyled, but they definitely-”

“Oh my God!” Nina exclaimed. “How the hell didn’t I see it?”

Kari peered at the artifact. “Then they are Olmec?”

“God, yes! I mean, like Professor Philby said, not the classical form of the symbology, but definitely a variant. Older?” She looked at Philby for affirmation.

He nodded. “Almost certainly. They’re less refined, and maybe with an influence from the Glozel in certain places. Very strange.” He leaned back. “Glozel alphabetical influences in proto-Olmec hieroglyphics? That ought to ruffle a few feathers…”

“Who or what is an Olmec?” Chase asked.

“An early South American civilization,” Nina told him. “They were at their height around 1150 BC, mostly on the southern coast of the Gulf of Mexico, but their influence went a lot farther inland.”

Chase shrugged. “Oh, those Olmecs.”

“Professor,” said Kari, “what does the rest of the inscription say? I assume you can translate the Olmec symbols.”

“I can certainly make an attempt. It may not be entirely accurate; as I said, the characters aren’t quite the same as the traditional forms, but… Well, let’s see, shall we?” He adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, Nina doing the same from the other side of the table.

“That first symbol, could it be-an alligator?”

“An alligator or a crocodile,” Philby mused.

Castille perked up. “The crocodile river? That could describe a few places that Edward and I have visited. There was one time in Sierra Leone -”

“The next word is a combination of symbols,” said Philby, ignoring him. “God… and water?”

“Or ocean,” Nina offered. “Hey! The god of the ocean! Poseidon!” She and Kari both said the name at the same moment.

“Begin from the north mouth of the crocodile river,” Philby went on.

“Seven, south, west. The river at seven, south, west, presumably,” said Nina. “Follow course to the city of Poseidon. There to find… to find what?” She tried to make sense of the remaining symbols. “Damn it. I’m not exactly fluent in Olmec.”

“Let me see…” said Philby, running a fingertip above the artifact. “This first symbol looks like the one for ‘home,’ but with these extra marks. It’s almost like ‘descendant’-no, ‘successor,’ but that doesn’t really fit.”

“Yes it does,” Nina realized. “Successor home- new home. There to find the new home of… of this symbol.”

“Hmm.” Philby leaned so close that his breath clouded on the artifact’s surface. “Now this one I really don’t recognize. It could be a representation of a personal name, or maybe a tribe…”

“Atlanteans.” Everyone turned to Kari. “The new home of the Atlanteans. That’s what it says.”

Philby pursed his lips. “Now, Ms. Frost, that could be wishful thinking. There are many other possibilities, which a detailed study of the ancient writings found in that region could clarify.”

“No,” said Nina, picking up the artifact. “She’s right. It has to be the Atlanteans. There’s nothing else it could be. The Atlanteans built a new home for themselves following the sinking of the island, somewhere in South America -and this piece is the map that’ll take us right to it. All we need is to identify the river. If we can work out what the numbers represent-”

“Or we could just do a pub quiz,” cut in Chase, grinning. “Seriously, Doc! South America! Big river full of crocodiles! What’s the first answer that comes into your head?”

“The… Amazon?” she answered, unsure if Chase was, as he put it, “taking the piss” again.

“Bingo! Come on, look how many notches directing you left and right there are on this map of yours, and each of them has a number next to it. If that’s how many tributaries you go past, that’s a bloody big river. And if there’s a lost city out there, it has to be in the Brazilian rain forest. If it was anywhere else, somebody would have found it already.” He looked over his shoulder towards Nina’s room. “You had an atlas in there, didn’t you? Hold on a minute.”

Chase jogged through the connecting door, returning with the large atlas, which he opened. “Here. There’s the northern mouth at Bailique, and if you go upstream you pass four tributaries on the left, seven on the right…” He laboriously tracked the route westward against the markings scribed into the orichalcum bar. “Eight on the left, and that brings you to the first big junction at Santarém.” The marking under his finger was more deeply indented than the others.