William Dietrich - The Barbary Pirates

"But we don't know where Og was."

"Yes we do. Og is a word scholars associate with Atlantis."

"Atlantis?" Hadn't the gold foil borne that word as well? "And where is that, exactly?" I'd heard of it, of course-Magnus Bloodhammer had talked of it in America, savants had debated its geography, and we'd even speculated it was the source of mysterious copper mines in the wilderness-but I wasn't sure of the details.

"Atlantis is Plato's story-a fabulous kingdom named for Atlas that was destroyed in some upheaval. Legend has that it was advanced and sought to assert its influence over the entire world. The common belief is that it was distant, like Og, perhaps. Beyond Gibraltar, what the Greeks called the Pillars of Hercules."

"So what has Og to do with Thira?"

"Perhaps because they are not far apart after all. My geographers tell me there's a place on the coast of Greece also referred to as the Pillars of Hercules. In Egypt, my savants mentioned Thira as the source of a cataclysm great enough to have spawned the Atlantis story. What if that island was the fabled kingdom? Or what if its destruction sank an Atlantis nearby?"

Sank Og? Which perhaps came from a language that might have been used by half-mythical beings, I thought, remembering my earlier adventures. Of godlike creatures named Thoth or Thor, whose footsteps I'd followed. Again there was this speculation about our mysterious forebears, remembered now as gods or legends. Where had we, or our civilization, really come from?

"It is simply myth," Napoleon continued. "Or is it? What if this Og/Atlantis really existed, and left something behind that evil seeks? In recent decades there has been frantic research into the legends of the ancients, driven by the popularity of Freemasonry and new archaeological discoveries. Some artifacts have even been found." He meant the Book of Thoth I'd pilfered, I was sure. "So what else is out there? Why is this Egyptian Rite so persistent in its search? I believe nothing, and yet I can't afford not to believe. These are things that might decide battles, dynasties, or wars. And so, once again I am face-to-face with you."

I swallowed, remembering Thor's hammer: a myth that had almost fried me alive. "You want me to determine the truth of these rumors?"

"There are reports speculating that there are secrets to be found on Thira, an island of no political significance."

"My colleagues think it has geologic significance."

"Which is why you're here instead of in jail. Come, let's confer with the others-but not a word about my Red Man. If you speak of this day, I'll have you shot."

"Secrets are my specialty."

He glanced skeptically, but what choice did he have? We were two rascals in expedient partnership. We walked back to rejoin the group, Napoleon's hands clasped behind his back as if to control his own intensity. My three scientific colleagues were regarding me with new respect after my quiet tete-a-tete with the first consul.

"We were discussing Plato's fiction of Atlantis," Bonaparte explained to the others.

"Except some scholars believe it might have been real," Fouche amended. He had the sleepy watchfulness of a cat, his mind calculating truths and evasions like a warehouse full of ledger clerks. "And that it might have left something behind."

"Which, however unlikely, you are to investigate," Napoleon now told us briskly, rubbing his hands together as if to shake a chill. "The rumor is that this object may have been left on this island. Yet if I send a military expedition to Thira, it will set off a war with the Ottomans I don't need. But a party of savants? Who cares what scientists do? With luck you can slip in and out without being seen. If not, you're simply on a mission to explore an old volcano. They'll think you're harmless eccentrics."

"What object?" Cuvier asked.

"This will interest Fulton," Fouche said. "The rumor is that a terrible weapon from ancient times may still exist, or at least the knowledge of how to build it. The nature of this weapon isn't clear, but speculation is that the nation who gets it first will control the Mediterranean, and perhaps the world."

"You mean it's some kind of ancient war machine?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to see that." Fulton was as drawn to machines as I am to women.

"When we learned the Egyptian Rite was seeking a meeting with Ethan Gage, we knew we had to act. It's imperative that we learn the truth of these rumors before something monstrous falls into the wrong hands."

"What, English hands?" Smith challenged.

"I'm speaking of this cult, which seems to have an agenda counter to all civilized nations. While we'd have preferred not to include you, Monsieur Smith, this is not a French-English rivalry-it is union in a greater cause. Besides, Gage gave us no choice after his expedition dragging you to the wicked Palais. Now, I'm afraid, you must briefly cooperate with the French government in this hunt for knowledge. We are at peace, after all."

"But my business is in Britain!"

"My information is that you're quite unemployed."

"Not to the point of wanting to go to Greece!"

"We are your new employer."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we'll confine you as a spy until this matter is sorted out. Cooperate, and you may advance your geologic career. We know your work has been ignored by the Royal Society."

"Wait just a minute," Fulton said. "I may be interested in ancient machinery, but I've no interest in this Thira, or Og, either!"

"You do if you want French interest in your peculiar idea for a steamboat," Napoleon said. "You've exhausted our patience and budget with your ridiculous Nautilus, but if you help us with this, we'll give your new contraption a fair look."

"Oh."

"And you, Cuvier, will accompany these men as a French patriot to provide this quartet with Gallic logic and purpose. You will be the expedition's leader and purser. Unless you prefer disgrace, dismissal from the Institute, and loss of the education ministry?"

"I wish only to reclaim my honor, First Consul. We savants have a reputation, even if Gage does not. I apologize for associating with riffraff, but perhaps good can come of it."

"And me?" I asked, not happy that no one was objecting to the "riffraff" description.

"According to Madame Marguerite, who is secretly in our employ, this Osiris fellow you ran over promised to take you to your lost love Astiza," Fouche said. "He wanted to take you to Thira, too. The woman must be there, or at least you might find a clue to her whereabouts. Do this errand for France and we'll send you on to the Egyptian lady. If not, you can go back to the United States to explain that your efforts to persuade us about Louisiana came to a complete failure and that our Caribbean army will soon occupy New Orleans. You will be banned from France, blamed for abject diplomatic failure in America, and forced to find a real job."

I swallowed. The prospect of actual work does daunt me. "So all we have to do is go to Thira, talk to this Greek fellow, and poke about for an ancient weapon?"

"Find an ancient weapon. Or at least bring back word of it before Ottoman soldiers, foreign spies, pirates, rebels, bandits, or the Egyptian Rite get to it first. Consider it a holiday from normal duties, gentlemen. A boy's adventure."

Sleepless, gritty, sore, and frightened, we numbly assented. What choice did we have?

"But how are we to find this weapon?" Cuvier asked.

Fouche took out a small velvet bag. "Before our troops were forced out of the Ionian Islands, one of our officers made purchase of a relic, a ring, from a distressed noblewoman. She said it was forged late in the fifteenth century. It was oddly fortuitous; the man said the duchess was quite beautiful and quite enigmatic. Some contend the ring was made by Templars themselves. When my agents heard about it, I decided to acquire it. I think you'll see why."