“We need more light,” Qobras said. Starkman nodded and took off his pack, taking out a stubby flare gun. He quickly loaded it and fired it up at an angle. A brilliant red light fizzled to life, drifting on its small parachute…

Everyone was stunned by the sight it revealed.

“My God…” said Nina.

TWENTY-FOUR

The scene before them was spectacular, an awe-inspiring tableau lost since the dawn of history.

Nina instantly recognized what lay at its center. It was another replica of the Temple of Poseidon-but this time, it was not alone.

Surrounding it were other buildings-smaller, but no less grandiose. The architectural style was familiar, starkly elegant, yet at the same time somehow brutal.

They were palaces, and temples; the citadel of Atlantis as described by Plato, re-created thousands of miles from its inspiration. And unlike their ruined counterparts in Brazil, these had withstood the test of time, shielded from the elements, perfectly preserved.

As her eyes adjusted to the flickering glow of the flare, however, she realized the scene was not complete. Vast as the cave was, it still wasn’t large enough to accommodate the entire citadel. Even the Temple of Poseidon itself was incomplete, its far end disappearing into the cave wall. There were indications that the Atlanteans had tried to carve out part of the wall to make room for the structure, but in the end they had, she assumed, simply dug the temple’s inner chambers directly out of the mountain.

The flare sputtered and died, dropping the colossal cave back into darkness. The only light came from the group’s flashlights.

“It’s… it’s unbelievable,” said Philby. “Giovanni, at the very least we have to photograph this. This is an even more important find than Atlantis itself!”

“No,” Qobras told him firmly. “Nothing can remain. Nothing! The Atlantean legacy will end here.” He turned his back on Philby, addressing Starkman. “This road leads straight to the center of the citadel. Call the others and have them bring in the bomb.”

“How big is this bomb?” Philby asked nervously.

“It’s a thousand-pound fuel-air explosive,” Starkman told him. “The explosive core is fifty pounds of CL- 20. In terms of destructive force, it’s the next best thing to a tactical nuke.”

“My God,” Philby gasped.

“These are the people you’ve gotten yourself in bed with,” Nina reminded him coldly. “Destroyers and murderers. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Nina, please,” he begged, stepping closer, “I’m so, so sorry! I never wanted to do anything to hurt Henry and Laura-I went on the expedition with them hoping they wouldn’t find anything!”

“But you still betrayed them. To him.” She shot a look of cold hate at Qobras. “They died because of you, Jonathan. They were murdered because of you! You son of a bitch!”

Before her guards could react, Nina punched him in the face. The pain that exploded in her knuckles was eclipsed by the pure primal satisfaction she received from the sight of Philby falling on his back, a bead of blood running from one nostril. He stared up at her aghast.

The guards pulled her back as Starkman, looking almost amused, helped Philby to his feet. “Nice punch, Dr. Wilde. Been taking tips from Eddie?”

The word came over the radio that it would take about fifteen minutes for the bomb to be brought down the tunnel. Qobras glanced at his watch, then looked at Philby and Nina. “That’s how much time you have to explore this place, Jack. Dr. Wilde, I promised you would have the chance to see the last outpost of the Atlanteans. I am a man of my word.”

“Before you kill me, you mean,” she said with a bitter smile.

“As I said, I am a man of my word.”

“Right. I’m sure that helps you sleep at night.”

Starkman fired another flare, and they headed down the road towards the citadel. Nina couldn’t help but feel the thrill of discovery as they approached, but at the same time she was painfully aware that every step she took was counting down the seconds to her death.

In the harsh, wavering light of the flare, she realized there was another structure before the Temple of Poseidon, a much smaller building raised up from the cave floor on a steep-sided mound. It was surrounded by a wall about fifteen feet high. A wall of…

“Gold,” said Starkman, awed. “There must be tons of it. How much is gold worth per ounce? Eight hundred dollars? Nine hundred? There’s hundreds of millions of dollars there!”

“Be careful,” Qobras warned. “That kind of thinking led Yuri to betray us. We’re here to destroy all this, not profit from it.”

They walked up to the gleaming wall. It completely encircled the little building, with no apparent way in. “It’s the Temple of Cleito, Poseidon’s wife,” Nina said. “Plato said that it was inaccessible.”

“Inaccessible, huh?” said Starkman, putting down his gear and unslinging his grappling gun. “We’ll see about that.”

“Jason.” The single word from Qobras stopped Starkman midmotion.

“Oh, come on,” Nina chided. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what’s inside? It’s the very beginnings of Atlantis, a replica of the spot where it was founded-for all we know, this might contain the original contents of the temple, rescued from Atlantis itself. Don’t you want to know what you’ve been fighting all these years? Don’t you want to know your enemy?”

Qobras contemplated the golden wall, then nodded to Starkman, who took the grapnel from the gun and unspooled a length of cable. Once he had enough, he stepped back and tossed the grapnel over the top of the wall. He pulled the line; it caught.

“Okay, let’s see what’s in here,” Starkman said, quickly climbing the cable. One of Nina’s guards threw another line up and scaled it, though more slowly.

Reaching the top, Starkman swung around, supporting himself on his stomach. “Dr. Wilde, you’re next.” He gestured to her other guard to hoist her up so he could take her hands.

“You realize I could just push you off and break your neck,” she muttered once she reached the top.

“You realize I could just shoot you in both legs and leave you to die in agony when the bomb goes off,” Starkman retorted. He lowered Nina down the other side.

Philby was next, awkwardly assisted over the top by Starkman, then her second guard and Qobras followed. Qobras was surprisingly agile and limber for a man of his age, Nina noticed. An analogue of Kristian Frost, a dark mirror-image.

Steps led up the steep mound to the temple’s entrance. Again Qobras took the lead; this time, Nina was right behind him, determined to see what was inside.

There was actually surprisingly little to be found. A pair of golden statues awaited them inside the doorway: Poseidon, no longer the giant found inside his own temple, but still larger than life, and facing him Cleito, his wife. Beyond them…

“It’s a mausoleum,” Nina said. A pair of large sarcophagi occupied the rear of the room, the plain, almost crude stonework contrasting sharply with the carefully wrought precious metals lining the walls.

“Yeah, but whose?” Starkman wondered. He directed his flashlight at an inscription chiseled into the end of one of the coffins. “What does this say?”

Nina and Philby began to offer a translation at the same moment, before Philby shrank back. “It says that this is the tomb of Mestor, last king of… I guess that means New Atlantis,” Nina said. The letters were styled differently from the familiar Glozel alphabet, but in this case it didn’t appear to be the result of mutations in the language over time, more from simple sloppiness. She moved to the second coffin. “And this is his queen… Calea, it looks like.” The letters were equally crude.