Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

“Ah, finally!” said Castille. The Belgian had been extremely nervous throughout the flight, to the amusement of the other passengers. “I can’t wait to get my feet back on solid ground.” He considered this. “Solid deck. Rocking deck. Ah, so long as it’s not a helicopter, I don’t care!”

“You got any idea how hard it is to land a helicopter on a moving ship?” Chase asked mischievously. Castille gave him a sour look, then took a green apple from a pocket and crunched deeply into it.

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” the pilot assured him as the Bell 407 began its descent. “I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“It’s number hundred and one I’m worried about,” Castille muttered through a mouthful of apple. Even Philby joined in the jovial mockery that followed.

Nina looked over Kari’s shoulder as they approached the Evenor. The research vessel had an ultramodern and, to her admittedly inexperienced eyes, somewhat odd design. The hull was normal enough, but the superstructure seemed almost top-heavy, a tall, tapered block squeezed into the midsection of the ship with a radar mast towering above it.

The reason for the unusual design became obvious as they got closer. At the stern, protruding out above the propellers on a fantail, was a helicopter pad, while most of the deck area at the bow was devoted to heavy cranes and winches to support the Evenor ’s two submersibles. The people had to fit in the space between their machines.

“Only a year old,” Kari said as they approached. “Three thousand two hundred metric tons, with five officers, nineteen crew and able to support up to thirty scientists for two months. My father’s pride and joy.”

“After you, I hope,” said Nina.

“Mmm… sometimes I wonder,” joked Kari.

As the pilot had promised, the landing was performed quickly and safely. Castille practically leapt from the cabin as crewmen secured the aircraft to the deck. “Safe at last!” he proclaimed.

“Just don’t throw up your hands in joy,” Nina told him, indicating the still-spinning rotor blades above him. “Remember what happened to Ajar!”

“Least you’ll be safe from choppers down there,” said Chase, looking overboard. The sea was calm, the gentle waves the perfect disguise for what lay beneath.

Kari led the group into the superstructure and up to the pilot house on level four, where they were met by the Evenor’s commander, Captain Leo Matthews, a tall Canadian in a spotless white uniform. Once the introductions were made, he updated them on the situation. “We’ll reach the target area in about three hours. Are you sure you want to send both subs down on the first descent, ma’am?” he asked Kari. “It might be better just to send the Atragon to inspect the seabed first.”

Kari shook her head. “I’m afraid time is a factor. Qobras already has a ship at sea-it’s looking in the wrong place, but he must know by now that we’ve set sail. Sooner or later he’s going to investigate, and I suspect it will be sooner.”

“Are you worried about an attack?”

“Wouldn’t be the first one,” Chase pointed out.

Matthews smiled. “Well, the Evenor might not be a warship, but… let’s just say we can look after ourselves.” He turned to Kari. “Your father sent some, ah, special equipment. We’ll be ready for any trouble, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Matthews ordered one of his crew to show the team to their staterooms. Despite offering it to Nina, on the grounds that she deserved the title, Kari had the chief scientist’s stateroom below the pilothouse, while Nina took a cabin next to Chase a deck beneath.

“Excellent,” he cackled, popping his head around Nina’s door. “Got a room to myself. No sharing with Hugo on this boat.”

“Does he snore?”

“He does much, much worse than that.” To Nina’s relief, he didn’t elaborate. “It’s not as posh as the Nereid , but it should be a lot harder to blow up.”

“Please, don’t even joke about that.”

“I wasn’t joking.” Chase came fully into the room. “Like Kari said, Qobras has got to know we’re out here. I know she thinks the crew’s loyal, but wave enough money around and anybody can be bought.”

“You think Qobras has a spy aboard?” Nina sat on the bed, worried.

“I’d put money on it. For that matter…” He trailed off.

“What?”

He sat next to her, lowering his voice. “Back in Brazil, Starkman found us way too fast. Those choppers couldn’t have just shadowed us as we went upriver, we were moving too slow. They would have run out of fuel. Which meant when they set off, they already knew where we were. Either there was a homing device on the boat, which is possible… or somebody aboard told them our position.”

Despite the warmth of the cabin, Nina shivered. “Who?”

“Couldn’t have been that idiot tree-hugger; nobody told him why we were really going there. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Captain Perez and Julio are on my list.”

“But they were killed when the Nereid was blown up. You saw the bodies.”

“Could be that Starkman killed them so there wouldn’t be any loose ends. So they’re still a possibility. On the other hand, I’m fairly sure Kari’s not trying to sell out her own dad…” He grinned at the understatement. “And you, well. Beyond reproach.”

Nina smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Problem is, that doesn’t leave many suspects. There’s Agnaldo, the Prof… and, well, me and Hugo.”

“It can’t have been Jonathan,” Nina said immediately. “I’ve known him for years. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”

“Okay then,” said Chase, raising an eyebrow, “I trust Agnaldo, and hell, I trust Hugo with my life. Which leaves… aw, buggeration and fuckery. It was me all along, wasn’t it? Bollocks.”

Nina giggled. “I think we can rule you out.”

“Hope so. I’d hate to have to beat the shit out of myself.” He smiled again, then shook his head wearily. “I dunno. Anybody on the Nereid could have had a sat-phone hidden in their personal kit-I only checked through the stuff we took aboard in Tefé. And as for this boat…” He sighed. “All we can do is just keep an eye out, look for anything funny.”

“What are you going to do if you find someone?” asked Nina.

Chase stood. “Make the bastard walk the plank.” She could tell he wasn’t joking.

Nina spent a while familiarizing herself with the layout of the Evenor , eventually making her way to the foredeck to check out the two submersibles. Kari was already there, talking to a pair of young men whose scruffy shorts and garish unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts went far beyond “beach casual” into actual “beach bum” territory.

“Nina,” said Kari, “these are our submersible pilots. And designers, in fact.”

“Jim Baillard,” said the taller of the two men, like Matthews a Canadian, only with a considerably more languid turn of speech. Nina shook his hand, his wristband of little seashells rattling. “So you think you found Atlantis, eh? Awesome.”

“You want it dug up? We’ll get it done,” said the shorter, more tubby of the pair, a deeply tanned Australian with bleached spiky hair. “Matt Trulli. If it’s underwater, we can dry it off for you.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Nina. She looked at the submersibles. “So these are your subs? They don’t look like I expected.” They resembled earthmovers or other industrial machinery more than submarines.