Atlantis

Chapter 7

Sofia rolled the mechanical pencil back and forth between her teeth, her index finger tracing an invisible line under the row of symbols. She cursed, dropped the stack of papers onto her lap, and fell back onto the pillow. She needed sleep, but she couldn’t turn her brain off. Since her arrival in Huertas, a barrio of Madrid, she and Arnau had made progress deciphering the codex. As she had suspected, the codex bore a strong similarity to Egyptian hieroglyphs, but too many of the symbols still eluded them.

She moved to the window and gazed down at the street below. Streetlights shone on a young couple enjoying the night life, and a few stray singles who cast envious glances at the two lovers. Under different circumstances, she’d be down there among them, drinking in the local culture and perhaps enjoying tapas and cerveza at Magister or Viva Madrid. Right now, though, she couldn’t bring herself to put the codex aside.

“Five more minutes, and then lights out,” she told herself. She sank down on the lumpy bed in Arnau’s guest room and returned to her stack of papers. Wanting to protect the ancient codex, she and Arnau were working from blown-up images of the artifact. She had abandoned her plan to send copies to colleagues skilled in ancient languages because she could think of no one whom she could completely trust. Some would turn her in to the authorities for stealing the codex. Others would seek to discredit her find, while still others would try to translate it on their own and steal the credit for themselves.

And then there was Arnau. She was not entirely comfortable working with him. His dealings with her, as far as she knew, had always been honest, but the fact he’d been caught trading in stolen antiquities strained his credibility. Then again, considering her present circumstances, who was she to judge?

She decided to begin by re-reading what she’d translated so far. It was not a literal translation. The symbols conveyed meaning, but could not be directly transcribed into complete sentences, so she and Arnau had fleshed things out, using a combination of educated guesses, wild speculation, and atrial and error. In the places where they were least confident about the translation, they’d inserted their best guess in brackets.

The rest remained untranslated, save for a few words, including an intriguing reference to temples. She gained no new insights, and put the papers down even before her allotted five minutes was up. Weariness weighed heavy on her and her eyelids drooped. Tomorrow, she’d look at the codex through fresh eyes.

“Let’s see if the Marlins have made any more stupid trades.” She took out her phone, opened the web browser, and punched in the Miami Herald’s website. She gasped when she saw the headline.

She read on, concern turning to disbelief as she read the report. A freak wave had struck Key West without warning, causing death and devastation to a small section of the island. The tsunami was odd, not only because it seemed to come out of nowhere, but because its size and behavior were so far out of the norm. It had come from the direction of the mainland and was reported to be a concentrated wall of water rather than a typical, broad wave. Strangest of all, scientists could determine no cause for it. Seismic detectors all around the Gulf of Mexico and in the Atlantic detected no activity whatsoever. The sole clue was a brief burst of energy, emitted by an unknown source, minutes before the wave struck.

Sofia leaned back and considered this terrible news. It wasn’t just the tragedy that impacted her, but the similarity to the wave that had swamped her dig site. In both cases, a wall of water appeared out of nowhere, with no obvious cause, and behaved in a way no known tsunami ever had. The articles she’d read hadn’t mentioned a surge of energy preceding the event in Spain, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Something in the back of her mind nudged at her thoughts. What was it? The codex mentioned machines, and a deluge to come. The machine in the temple! What if… No, the very idea was absurd. Of course, belief in Atlantis seemed absurd until she’d unearthed the city.

“Oh my God. I have to tell somebody.” But who? Could she really go to the American embassy with this story? They’d think her a lunatic. But she couldn’t just let this drop. She was certain she was onto something.

A loud knock startled her. Someone was at the apartment door. She heard Arnau moving through the front room. He opened the door and whispered something unintelligible.

“Why the need to be so quiet?” a deep voice said. “We are alone, no?”

“I don’t want the neighbors to hear us.”

“Always overcautious,” said a second voice. “Perhaps it is for the best. There is no harm in taking a few precautions. Now, where is it?”

“Just a minute. It’s in my safe.”

Sofia’s heart lurched. Damn Arnau! He thought to sell the codex. She gripped the doorknob, ready to storm in and confront him, but then she paused. Some of the people who bought stolen artifacts were little more than wealthy eccentrics or gluttons who wanted to own a piece of history. Others, however, were dangerous. What sort were the men outside? Indecision rooted her to the spot.

“Here. Give me the money and go.” Arnau’s voice trembled. “I want this out of my house.”

“Let us see what we have here. Ah, very nice. You say this came from Atlantis?” The man’s tone expressed his obvious skepticism.

“That’s what I was told. I’ve studied it enough to be satisfied that it’s a genuine artifact. ”

“You’ve studied it.” The voice sounded flat.

“Yes, but only to authenticate it. Nothing thorough.” Arnau spoke quickly. “I don’t know what it says.”

“From whom did you acquire this piece?”

“You know I can’t reveal my sources.”

A dull pop made Sofia jump. On the other side of the door, she heard a thump and Arnau’s cry of pain.

“It is not a fatal wound, but the next one will be unless you tell me the truth. I ask again, from whom did you acquire the codex?”

Sofia’s stomach heaved. She had a feeling the fatal wound was inevitable, regardless of what Arnau told the men.

“I only know his first name,” Arnau groaned. “It’s Abed. He lives in Cairo.”

Another muffled pop and another cry of pain. That must be what a silenced weapon sounds liked.

“I’ve given you a measure of grace, Arnau. You’ll lose your leg, but you might live if you receive medical attention soon.” The speaker lowered his voice to a husky whisper. “You got this from Sofia Perez, didn’t you?” Arnau’s silence was all the answer the man needed. “Very well.”

Sofia didn’t need to hear any more. She was halfway out the window, her few belongings stuffed inside her shirt, when the next gunshot sounded. She clambered down the fire escape, dropped the last ten feet and rolled her ankle when she landed hard on the pavement. Fear gave her strength and she hobbled down the street at a half-run. The hour was late, but the hotel district wasn’t far, and there were always taxis about.

By the time she flagged down a cab, she was soaked with sweat and her white tank top wasn’t quite opaque any more. If the driver thought it odd to pick up a young woman in her nightclothes, he gave no indication, though he didn’t bother to hide the way he undressed her with his eyes. He sat up straight, though, when she told him her destination.

“United States Embassy. I’ll double your fare if you get me there fast.”

Tires screeched and horns blared as the cabbie stepped on the gas and pulled the cab out into traffic. Sofia watched the lights and the people flash past and wondered if anyone would believe her story.