Andy McDermott - The Hunt For Atlantis

“As for those others who might take an interest,” Qobras continued, “there are ways in which we can divert their attention. But now it may no longer even be necessary. If you are telling the truth about the last outpost of the original Atlanteans, then we can destroy that too. With the last link gone, their descendants will never be able to unite to begin a new war of conquest.”

“The Frosts are hardly warmongers,” protested Nina. “Unless you count philanthropy as a WMD?”

Qobras let out a harsh laugh. “Philanthropy? Hardly! Everything Kristian Frost has done is in support of his ultimate goal, the restoration of Atlantean rule under his leadership. Spending millions on medical aid is just a means to that end. Do you really think the Frost Foundation’s work is about helping the sick?”

“Then what is it about?”

“Kristian Frost has been using the Frost Foundation’s medical projects as a cover to map out the worldwide distribution of the Atlantean genome, finding the people who share his DNA,” said Qobras. “People like you. Yes, we know about the DNA test the Frosts carried out on you. We also know that over the last decade, he has devoted an enormous amount of money and resources to finding Atlantis-far more than he has revealed publicly, or, I suspect, to you. You are not the first person with a theory on the location of Atlantis whose expedition he has funded.”

“Did you try to kill them too?” Qobras’s look was the only answer she needed. “Oh God.”

“As I said, we are not proud of the fact, but it had to be done. Yet despite that, because of you… the Frosts are building to the culmination of their plan.”

“And what plan would that be, exactly?”

“We don’t know the precise details. None of our operatives have been able to penetrate Frost’s organization deeply enough to discover his true objective. But we have learned enough to know that his plan hinges upon not merely the discovery of Atlantis, but the recovery of certain Atlantean artifacts. But the Brotherhood is about to ensure that never happens.” He gestured at the window. “We are approaching the Golden Peak.”

Looking out, Nina saw the first light of the morning sun as it rose over the rugged silhouette of the Himalayas…

And to the west, the pinnacle of the middle of three peaks lit up with a dazzling orange glow, as if the tip of the mountain had burst into flame. Even the streaks of bare rock visible through the pure white snowcap seemed to be on fire, sunlight glinting from slender veins of gold within the cold stone.

“My God,” she whispered.

“The Golden Peak,” said Qobras. “A local legend, which supposedly hid a great treasure. The Ahnenerbe believed it was connected to Atlantis. As did your parents.”

Nina looked sharply at him at the mention of her family, but Qobras had turned away to issue instructions to the pilot. The helicopter descended, sweeping towards the mountain. It landed on a broad snow-covered ledge.

“The Path of the Moon,” Qobras announced as he climbed from the helicopter, his feet crunching in the snow. “I never imagined I would see this place again.”

Nina pulled her coat tightly around herself as she stepped out after him, her ever-present guards following. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yes, but I thought there was nothing of value here. It seems I was wrong.” He put a hand on Philby’s shoulder. “Perhaps you and I should have spent more time here. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“You’ve been here as well?” Nina asked Philby. He made a vague, almost fearful sound of confirmation.

“He was here with your parents,” said Qobras. Nina gaped at him, shocked.

“Giovanni, don’t, please,” Philby pleaded. “There’s no need to…”

Qobras gave him a stern look. “I’ve done many things I am not proud of, but I will admit my part in them. You should do the same… Jack.”

“Jonathan?” Nina strode up to him, no longer caring about her guards. “What does he mean? Did my parents come here? What do you know?”

He tried to turn away. “I… Nina, I’m sorry, I…”

She grabbed him by his coat. “What do you know, Jonathan?”

“Come this way, Dr. Wilde,” said Qobras, pointing up the slope. Starkman pulled her away from Philby. Despite the cold, the professor was sweating.

The group trudged uphill, the second helicopter announcing its arrival with a biting spray of ice particles as it landed behind them. Qobras led the way, examining the rock face intently as he ascended. At last, he stopped.

“There,” he said. Nina looked where he was indicating. At first she saw nothing but snow and barren rock, the strata twisted to the vertical by eons of geological pressure, but upon closer inspection she spotted a patch of darkness against the cold blue-gray of the mountain.

A crack in the rock, an opening…

“Kind of a tight squeeze,” noted Starkman. At its widest, the crack was less than a foot across.

“There must have been another rock slide. Have the men bring the digging equipment.”

Starkman issued the order. Within minutes, another ten men arrived from the second helicopter. They set to work tearing into the pile of loose stones beneath the snow with picks. Before long the opening was clear enough to allow passage, but Qobras ordered his men to keep digging. “We need it wide enough to fit the bomb through.”

“Bomb?” gasped Nina. “What bomb?”

He shot her an almost impatient look. “This is not an archaeological expedition, Dr. Wilde. We came here to destroy the last link to Atlantis. Whatever lies inside this mountain, nobody else will ever see it.”

“You’re worse than the Taliban,” she growled. “They destroyed priceless artifacts out of dogma. You’re doing it for a conspiracy theory!”

“A conspiracy that I’m happy to say will end here. Once the last outpost is destroyed, every trace of the ancient Atlanteans will be gone forever.”

“So then what? You going to retire to the Bahamas? Or are you just going to keep on killing people you don’t like because of their DNA?” Qobras didn’t answer, looking back at the widening opening.

After another five minutes of activity, he finally seemed satisfied. “Bring the bomb,” he ordered. “We’re going inside.”

His men headed back to the helicopters as Qobras led the way into the cave, followed by Starkman and Philby. Nina came next, her two guards flanking her. Powerful flashlight beams flitted through the dark space. To Nina, it looked as though a natural cavern had been widened to form a passage leading into the mountain.

“Over here,” said Starkman, aiming his light off to one side. Nina gasped in surprise when she saw what he had found.

Bodies.

Five desiccated corpses stared silently back, their skin shriveled and reduced to parchment. The way they were sitting, in a row against one side of the cave, suggested to Nina that they had succumbed to starvation or exposure-but it also appeared that somebody had searched them after their death.

“The fourth expedition of the Ahnenerbe,” said Qobras grimly. “Jürgen Krauss and his men. They followed the path from Morocco to Brazil, and finally to Tibet.”

“The fourth expedition?” asked Nina. “There were only three.”

“Only three that were recorded. At least, in known records. There were other documents.” His tone became somber. “Your father came into possession of some of them. They were what led him first to Tibet, in search of the Golden Peak… and then to here.”

“Here?” said Nina, puzzled… but also with a growing sense of awful foreboding.