The Hunt For Atlantis

TWO

Nina paced nervously, glancing down at the darkening street each time she passed the window. She had rushed out after Starkman’s call and subjected her credit card to a battering by buying a low-cut blue dress that was suitable for dinner with a billionaire. She hoped.

She could still barely believe it. Kristian Frost wanted to meet her! To discuss her theories on the location of Atlantis! She stopped pacing and mentally ran through all the points she needed to present. If she convinced Frost she was right, competing for the financial scraps the university could offer would be a thing of the past. No need to charter expensive survey ships. Frost owned survey ships.

She checked the window again. No sign of any car pulling up outside, but…

Who was that?

Her building was on the corner of a block. Across the street, someone ducked out of sight around the side of the apartments opposite.

Someone in a black leather jacket.

She watched the sidewalk intently. People walked past, but the man didn’t reappear.

Just a coincidence, she told herself. New York was a big city, and a lot of men wore black leather jackets.

Something else caught her attention, a large silver car pulling up in front of her building. She looked at the clock. Just before seven.

A man got out and walked to the front door. A moment later, the entry phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“Dr. Wilde?” came the echoing voice from the street. “It’s Jason Starkman.”

“I’m on my way down!” she told him, picking up the folder of printouts she’d prepared earlier. She paused to check herself in the mirror by the door-hair carefully brushed and styled, makeup elegant without being overdone, all traces of potato chips brushed away-then hurried out.

Starkman was waiting downstairs. She hadn’t formed much of a mental image of him from his voice, which had revealed little beyond a hint of a Texas accent, but was impressed by what she found. Starkman was tall, well built and dressed in an expensive blue suit and pristine white shirt. He looked to be in his late thirties, and something about the skin around his eyes gave Nina the feeling that he had traveled extensively. She’d seen the same kind of sun-baked lines on other men before, including her father.

He held out a large hand. “Dr. Wilde. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise.” She shook it; his skin was rough.

He glanced at her pendant, which was exposed above the neck of her dress, before turning his attention to the folder under her arm. “Are those your notes?”

“Yes. Everything I need to convince Mr. Frost that I’m right, I hope!” she said, laughing nervously.

“From what we’ve already heard about your theory, I doubt he’ll need much convincing. Are you ready to go?”

“Of course!”

He led her to the car, which she at first took to be a Rolls-Royce before realizing that it was actually a Bentley. Just as luxurious, but more sporty-not that she knew from personal experience.

“Nice car,” she commented.

“Bentley Continental Flying Spur. Mr. Frost always buys the best.” He opened the rear door for her.

The interior of the Bentley was as opulent as she had imagined, the seats and trim in a soft pale cream leather. There was another suited man at the wheel. Starkman closed the door behind her, then got into the front passenger seat. He gestured, and the driver pulled away from the curb, stopping at the intersection. Nina, out of habit, checked for traffic… and across the street saw the man who had been watching her outside the university. He was talking on a cell phone, but his eyes were fixed on her.

She drew in a shocked breath.

“Something wrong?” asked Starkman, looking back at her.

“I…” The Bentley set off and turned the corner, the man dropping out of sight behind her. She considered telling Starkman about her apparent stalker, but decided against it. If he posed any threat, that was what the police were for-and besides, she barely knew Starkman any better than she did the man in the leather jacket. “Just thought I saw someone I knew.”

Starkman nodded and looked away. The Bentley turned again, now heading west.

Something about that struck Nina as odd. She’d checked on the Internet to find out where the Frost Foundation’s New York headquarters were-they were in east Midtown, not far from the United Nations. The easiest way to reach them from her apartment would have been to head east, then go straight up First Avenue…

She decided to wait before bringing this up. The Bentley had a satellite navigation system; it was possible there was some traffic problem farther uptown that meant a detour would be faster.

But they continued west for another block, then another…

“Where is it we’re going again?” she asked, with feigned lightness.

“The Frost Foundation,” Starkman replied.

“Isn’t that on the East Side?”

In the mirror, Nina caught a glimpse of the driver’s eyes. They betrayed a flash of… concern? “We’re making a slight detour first.”

“Where to?”

“It won’t take long.”

“That’s… not really what I asked.”

The two men exchanged looks. “Aw, hell,” said Starkman, his Texas accent growing stronger. “I was hoping to get there first, but…” He turned in his seat, reaching into his jacket and pulling out-

A gun!

Nina stared at it in disbelief. “What’s this?”

“What does it look like? Thought you PhDs were supposed to be smart.”

“What’s going on? What do you want?”

Starkman held out his other hand. “Your notes, for a start.” The gun was pointing at her chest. Numbly, she handed him the folder. “Too bad you didn’t bring your laptop. Guess we’ll have to pick that up after.”

“After what?” His silence and stony expression brought her to a horrible realization. “Oh my God! You’re going to kill me?”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Desperate, she looked around frantically for any way to escape.

She tugged at the door handle. It moved, but only a little. Child locks. Even though she knew it was pointless, she threw herself across the seat and tried the other door. It too refused to open.

Trapped!

Panic rose inside her, constricting her chest. Her green eyes wide with fear, she looked back at Starkman.

His expression had changed to one of surprise, his gaze flicking away from Nina to the rear window-

Whump!

Nina was flung forward as something rammed the Bentley from behind. Starkman’s breath whooshed from his mouth as he was slammed against the dashboard. He angrily shoved himself upright and aimed the gun at the rear window. Nina shrieked and dived out of the line of fire.

“It’s Chase!” Starkman shouted. “Son of a bitch!”

“How the hell did he find us?” the driver asked.

“I don’t give a shit! Ram that Limey bastard off the road and get us out of here!”

The Bentley swerved sharply. Nina slid over the smooth leather, banging her head against the door. Above her, Starkman swung the gun, tracking something outside.

Another impact!

This time it came from the side, the two-ton car lurching violently as metal crunched and twisted. Through the window Nina saw another vehicle, a large black SUV.

Starkman fired. Nina screamed and clapped her hands to her ears as the side window blew apart in a hail of glittering fragments. The SUV dropped back sharply, tires howling. Wind whipped through the broken window.

Two more shots rang out from Starkman’s gun, the rear windshield shattering and spraying Nina with chunks of safety glass. Car horns hooted furiously, the sound rapidly Dopplering away behind them as the Bentley accelerated. The driver swore and swerved again to dodge something, sending Nina slithering back across the seat.

“Go right!” Starkman shouted. Nina barely had time to brace herself before the Bentley screamed into a sharp turn.

“Shit!” the driver gasped as the car hit something with a flat thud. A person, Nina realized with horror. Shouts and screams came from outside as somebody tumbled from the car’s hood. But the driver didn’t stop, instead struggling to keep the Bentley under control as he accelerated again.

Starkman fired two more shots. Nina heard the other vehicle’s powerful engine revving behind them. As he took aim again, the gun was right above her.

She grabbed his wrist with both hands and pulled his arm down, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his hand as hard as she could.

He let out a roar of pain-and fired.

The flash was blinding, and the noise, just inches from her head, momentarily overpowered all her senses. The bullet slammed into the back of her seat.

Starkman pulled his hand free. Huge colored blobs danced in Nina’s vision, afterimages from the gun’s muzzle flame. Her hearing started to return in time to hear more gunfire.

But not from Starkman’s gun.

The headrest of the driver’s seat burst apart in a flurry of shredded leather and stuffing, followed a millisecond later by the driver’s head. Dark red blood and gray brain matter splattered the pale lining of the roof and the front windows.

The Bentley swerved as the driver’s corpse slumped to one side. Starkman yelled and grabbed the steering wheel. The vehicle straightened, throwing the stilldazed Nina back across the rear seat.

Wham!

The SUV rammed them again.

Swearing, Starkman leaned over the dead driver and grasped the door handle. The door opened. He stabbed the seat belt release and shoved the corpse out onto the road, then pulled himself over the center console and dropped into the driver’s seat just as the SUV hit again, harder. The Bentley snaked from side to side before Starkman regained control, sawing at the wheel and flinging the car into a hard turn to the left as he stomped on the accelerator. The tires shrieked in protest, the heavy car wallowing.

Nina’s head hit the right-hand door again as the turn flung her across the car. She pulled herself up. If Starkman was occupied with driving, then he couldn’t use the gun…

The other vehicle, a Range Rover, drew level with them. She recognized the face at the wheel-the man in the leather jacket!

With a huge silver gun in one hand, pointing at the Bentley.

“Stay down!” he shouted.

She dropped flat onto the seat again as two booms like cannon fire came from outside. Starkman ducked and shielded his face as the windshield burst apart, the wind driving the fragments back into the car.

Holding the wheel with one hand, he twisted and fired three shots over his left shoulder. Nina heard the Range Rover’s tires screech as it swerved for cover directly behind its quarry.

More horns sounded as Starkman wove the Bentley through the evening traffic, a nerve-shredding grind of metal assaulting Nina’s ears as it sideswiped another car. She looked up. They were somewhere around 17th or 18th Street and rapidly approaching the western side of Manhattan, only the broad lanes of the West Side Highway ahead, and beyond that the cold waters of the Hudson River.

Starkman fumbled with his gun, barely keeping hold of the wheel. Nina realized what he was doing. The automatic’s slide was locked back; he was reloading…

Which meant he couldn’t shoot!

She sat up sharply and clawed at Starkman’s face. He swiped at her, trying to use his weapon as a club. She ducked to one side and continued her attack, feeling something soft beneath the middle finger of her right hand.

His eye.

She drove her nail against it. Starkman howled, thrashing the gun violently at her.

“Stop the car!” she screamed. A glimpse of the speedometer told her that the Bentley was doing sixty and still picking up speed as it careened down the street, directly towards a knot of traffic waiting at the lights.

She screamed again, this time in panic, and pulled her hands from Starkman’s face. Blood covered her fingers. He saw the danger just in time and threw the wheel to the right to miss the rearmost car by mere inches, slamming the Bentley up onto the sidewalk. A trash can spun into the air as they plowed into it, but that was the least of Nina’s concerns, because now they were heading right into the path of the traffic racing along the West Side Highway-

To her horror, Starkman sped up.

The Bentley flew off the end of the sidewalk and smashed back down onto the road, the underside of the car grating against the asphalt. Nina saw headlights flash and heard the desperate shrill of locking brakes. Cars slewed in all directions to avoid a collision, only to be hit from behind by other drivers too close to stop in time.

They shot across the northbound lanes, reaching the median unharmed-only for Starkman to turn into the traffic on the other side, heading uptown directly against the southbound vehicles!

“Oh my God!” Nina shrieked as he flung the Bentley between the lanes of cars and trucks. Other vehicles flashed past on either side just inches away, their drivers swerving frantically to dodge the maniac charging straight at them. More horns blared ahead and behind, an orchestra of fury and fright. “Stop the car before you get us both killed!”

She struck at his eyes again-but this time he was ready.

The gun smacked into her forehead, driving a spike of intense pain deep into her skull. She fell back, dizzy and sickened, as Starkman threw the Bentley hard to the left and plowed through a metal gate onto one of the piers jutting out into the Hudson.

Wind sliced through the shattered windows as the Bentley accelerated along the wharf. Nina struggled upright to see warehouses flying past on one side, the rust-streaked flanks of ships on the other.

And directly ahead, nothing but open water and the distant lights of New Jersey beyond.

She gasped, realizing what Starkman was about to do.

He looked around at her for a moment. His right eye was squeezed tightly shut, deep scratches cutting across it, blood trickling down his cheek.

Then he threw the door open and rolled out, tucking up his arms to protect himself as he fell. In a flash, he was gone, the door slamming behind him-leaving the Bentley still racing towards the end of the pier, the cruise control active and holding its speed at almost fifty miles per hour!

Nina barely had time to scream before the car ripped through the flimsy wire-mesh barrier at the wharf’s end and arced down towards the dark water below.

Sudden deceleration crushed her against the back of the driver’s seat. Freezing water cascaded over her, a tsunami rushing through the broken windows. Bubbles frothed past as the Bentley’s heavy front end tipped downwards, pulling the car and its occupant towards the bottom of the river.

Nina tried to get out through the rear window, but the high headrests above the back seat blocked her escape. Eyes stinging, she tugged desperately at the nearest door handle, but it still wouldn’t budge.

The side window…

The glass was smashed, and it was just large enough for her to fit. She grabbed the window frame and pulled herself through. Her shoulders cleared the door, her chest-

She was stuck!

Her dress had snagged on the metal rods supporting the driver’s seat’s destroyed headrest.

Nina kicked, trying to free herself. No luck. Her stupid dress was still caught fast. She kicked harder, pushing at the window frame with her arms for extra leverage. The material gave slightly, but refused to tear.

Her chest was about to explode. She wanted nothing more than to take a breath, but the only thing she would draw into her lungs was water.

She was going to drown! Professor Philby had been right: her hunt for Atlantis would get her killed-

No, there was no way she was going to let him be right!

But she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She was trapped in a car that was plunging to the bottom of the Hudson, and the pounding in her head would at any moment overcome her reason and force her to take a fatal breath…

Someone grabbed her.

She was so surprised that the breath froze on her lips. An arm tightened around her waist, pulling. Her dress ripped, and her savior dragged her through the window, kicking forcefully upwards as the Bentley disappeared into the darkness below.

Her heart slamming desperately inside her chest, Nina breached the surface and pulled in a whooping, painful gasp, not caring about the foul taste of the water. One arm still around her, her rescuer pulled her towards shore. Her pain and panic subsiding, Nina looked to see who it was.

The man in the leather jacket grinned back at her, revealing a prominent gap between his two front teeth. “Ay up, Doc?”

“You?”

“Tchah! That’s bloody gratitude for you!”

They reached the pier, the man guiding her to a rusted ladder. Nina wearily climbed it, dragging herself onto a concrete dock below the main level of the wharf itself. The man followed, water streaming from his jacket. “Nice dress.”

“What?” Nina asked, confused, before realizing that her skirt had been torn away practically to her crotch. “Oh my God!” She clapped her hands protectively between her legs.

“Well,” said the man, running a hand over his short hair, “if that’s all you’re worried about, you’re probably okay.” His accent was English, but not from a region Nina could pin down. “Which is good, ’cause we need to get out of here. Right now.” He held out a hand. Nina stared at it in bewilderment for a moment, then took it. With considerable strength, he hauled her to her feet. It was only then that she realized she’d lost both her shoes.

“Who are you?” she demanded, as he quickly led her to a flight of steps leading up to the wharf. “What’s going on?”

“My name’s Chase. Eddie Chase. Don’t worry, I’m not some nutter.” He looked back to give her a smile that wasn’t entirely reassuring. “Just mad enough to dive into a river to rescue the woman I’ve been hired to look after.”

“Hired?”

“Yeah. I’m your bodyguard!”

They reached the top of the steps. A small group of people were waiting for them, looking amazed. A few of them applauded. “Used to be in the SAS-you know, Special Air Service. Now I’m… sort of a freelancer.” Nina saw that his Range Rover, its front end the worse for wear, was parked on the wharf with a door open and the engine still running.

An overweight man in the uniform of a security firm jogged towards them, panting. “Hey! What the hell’s going on here?”

“It’s all right, mate,” said Chase. “Everything’s under control.”

“The hell it is! A car just smashed through the gates and went off the end of the pier! I want some answers!”

Chase sighed, then reached into his jacket and pulled out his massive gun. It looked even more menacing to Nina close up, the long barrel reinforced by a slotted steel bar along its top. “Mr. Magnum here’ll answer any questions,” he said, waving it in the guard’s general direction. The little crowd hurriedly backed away. “You got any?”

The guard fought to keep the fear off his face, with little success. “They can wait.”

“Good. You might want to find the bloke who bailed out of the car before it crashed, though-he’s the real bad guy. But right now I need to get this lady somewhere safe. All right?”

“Sure!” the guard agreed, backing off.

Still keeping his gun raised, Chase opened the Range Rover’s passenger door for Nina, then ran to the driver’s side and jumped in. He drove off down the wharf at high speed. At the end he made a tight turn, then sped along the empty sidewalk for a few hundred yards before passing the tangle of stationary cars and swerving onto the West Side Highway. “Better put the heater on, I suppose,” he said, glancing at the shivering Nina as he accelerated. In the distance, the sound of sirens wailed through the night air.

She clenched her teeth. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Short version? Bad guys want to kill you. Good guys want to stop them. I’m one of the good guys.”

“Why do they want to kill me? What did I do?”

“It’s not what you’ve done, Doc. It’s what they’re afraid you might do. That bloke in the Bentley, Starkman? Used to be a mate of mine back in the day-we worked together, joint ops around the world-until he went rogue.”

“He said he worked for the Frost Foundation, for Kristian Frost,” said Nina.

Chase laughed. “Well, I know for a fact that he doesn’t.”

“How?”

“Because I work for Kristian Frost. You want to meet him?”