Andy McDermott: The Midas Legacy

A warm reflection washed over Eddie as he shone his own lamp around. A low crawlspace remained open against the wall, a very large piece of sculpted metal forming a ceiling above it. Dents and tears revealed that its strength was provided by cast bronze — the Atlanteans had smelted together copper and tin thousands of years before the previously accepted beginning of the Bronze Age — but the surface was pure gold, almost a quarter of an inch thick.

Even without seeing the whole object, he knew what it was — and so did his wife.

‘The statue!’ Nina cried, staring in amazement at the main screen. ‘It’s part of the statue of Poseidon!’

‘Must’ve got wedged against the wall when the roof caved in,’ said Eddie. ‘There’s a gap under it.’ He squatted to aim his light down the little tunnel.

Blumberg snapped his fingers, gesturing for an assistant to bring him a large folder. He quickly produced a floorplan. ‘This is a diagram of what was left of the duplicate temple in Brazil,’ he said, showing it to Nina. His finger tapped the representation of a set of stairs. ‘That’s the way up to the altar room, and this ,’ his finger slid across the page, ‘is the entrance to one of the secondary chambers. If the other evidence we’ve found pans out, that’s where we’ll find the Secret Codex.’

She checked the scale. ‘That’s only… what, twenty-five feet away?’

‘If that.’ He regarded the screens. ‘Question is, can anyone fit through?’

‘I’m watching on the monitor,’ Matt cut in from the submersible, ‘and that looks like a job for an ROV if you ask me.’

‘No, we can get through,’ insisted Cellini. He dropped on to his front, head craned back to peer down the confined passage. ‘It’s low, but the suits will fit.’

‘You sure about that?’ asked Eddie sceptically.

Cellini pulsed his suit’s thrusters to drive himself into the opening. With his chest plate scuffing the stone floor, the bulbous shell covering his air tanks slid beneath the golden ceiling with about an inch to spare. ‘I told you,’ he said once he was inside.

‘The statue’s not flat, though,’ Eddie warned him. ‘If it dips even by a couple of inches, you’ll get stuck!’

The sight of the other man’s flapping fins disappearing was the only reply. ‘Really?’ said Nina in exasperation. ‘Eddie, you’d better make sure he’s okay.’

‘Would never’ve thought that having a three-year-old would be great practice for going on an archaeological dig,’ said her husband as he followed his companion.

A low grumbling sound came over the speakers. ‘Was that you?’ Nina asked.

‘What, you think I’d eat beans before getting sealed in this thing?’ said Eddie, halting. He too had heard the noise, but couldn’t pinpoint its source. ‘Matt, there’s nothing happening outside, is there?’

‘The current’s shifted,’ the Australian told him. ‘Started a couple of minutes ago. It’s a tidal thing, don’t worry about it.’

‘I’m not worried about the tide. I’m worried about whatever made that noise.’ He listened, but the deep rumble did not recur.

A higher-pitched grunt through the earpiece caught his attention. He looked ahead to see that Cellini had stopped, fins flailing uselessly. A swirl of sediment corkscrewed back towards Eddie as the younger man switched on his thrusters, to no avail. ‘Eddie, I’m caught!’

‘Hold on, I’m coming! Turn off your props.’ The Englishman brought himself up behind Cellini, rolling for a better look at the ceiling. The bulbous back of the Italian’s suit had jammed against some detail of the giant statue. ‘Okay, I should be able to pull you out.’

‘No, no!’ Cellini protested. ‘There is something on the other side, I can see it! We are so close! Push me forward.’

‘You sure?’

Blumberg was about to speak, but Nina beat him to it. ‘He’s only about six feet from the entrance to the secondary chamber. You’ve got to keep going.’

‘Just like old times, eh?’ Eddie’s tone was more sarcastic than nostalgic. ‘I’m assuming everyone else is in favour?’

‘We have to at least try,’ agreed Blumberg. ‘Don’t take any risks, though.’

‘Like crawling underneath a giant statue with fifty tons of rubble on top of it?’ Eddie shook his head, then checked the golden surface. ‘Okay, Nerio — it looks like you’ll just about fit if I pull you back, then you slide to your left.’

‘I can do that,’ Cellini replied enthusiastically.

Eddie squirmed back, then braced himself and took hold of the other man’s ankles. ‘Ready?’

He pulled as Cellini levered himself backwards. The suit ground alarmingly against the protrusion, then came free. ‘ Sono libero! ’ the Italian proclaimed.

‘All right, go to your left,’ said Eddie. ‘Keep going… There, stop. Okay, go forward, slowly.’

The Yorkshireman carefully pushed the younger man. His air tanks again caught the sculpted fold, but this time the rasp was much fainter. ‘You’re almost through… All right, use your thrusters! Now!’

Cellini thumbed the throttle wheel on the control stalk. The suit’s thrusters surged, and he popped free of the obstacle like a champagne cork. ‘I did it!’

‘ We did it,’ Eddie reminded him sardonically. ‘Now, you going to help me through, or what?’

The Englishman’s own journey through the gap was equally tight, but ultimately successful. Cellini helped him to his knees in a small space beneath what he realised was the statue’s shoulder. ‘Great, we’re in Poseidon’s armpit. And I bet he didn’t use deodorant.’

‘What can you see?’ Nina demanded impatiently.

‘You were right, Lester,’ said Cellini. A curved alcove was set into the wall, an overturned golden statue partly buried beneath rubble — but behind it was a narrow passageway. ‘There is an opening!’

Eddie brought up his light. The tunnel headed back beneath the altar room for around forty feet before turning to the right. There was debris on the floor, but it appeared traversable. ‘Looks like we can get down it.’

‘So what are we waiting for?’ Cellini crawled forward until he had enough space to stand, then entered the passage. ‘Eddie, come on!’

The older man shrugged as best he could in the suit, then followed. ‘Rushing into ancient tunnels — it’s like you’re here with me, Nina. You sure you don’t have any Italian relatives?’

‘You and Macy are the only relatives I’ve got,’ she replied. ‘Which makes sending out Christmas cards a lot simpler. Okay, what can you see?’

Cellini reached the turning; Eddie caught up and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Careful,’ he said. ‘The Atlanteans really liked booby traps.’

The Italian was unconvinced. ‘They would not still be working after all this time — and being under two hundred and fifty metres of water.’

‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’ Eddie took the lead, checking the way ahead. The tunnel ran for thirty feet into a larger chamber. ‘There’s definitely a room down here,’ he announced. ‘If we swim in, we shouldn’t set anything off.’

He kicked off the floor and tilted forward, using his flippers rather than the thrusters to move down the passage. They crossed the threshold, the walls opening out around them to reveal…

‘ È incredibile! ’ gasped Cellini.

Eddie was equally impressed. ‘I think we’ve found what you were looking for.’

The room was not large, only a fraction of the altar room’s size. But it was every bit as dazzling a find. Like its larger counterpart, the walls were covered with metal sheets: orichalcum, the red-tinted gold alloy favoured by the Atlanteans. At the sight, Nina unconsciously touched a pendant around her neck, made from a scrap of the same material by her father when she was a child.