The Atlantis Scrolls

Chapter 23

“Purdue, I forgot to tell you. The housekeeper, Maisy, called last night and asked me to let you know that she fed the dog,” Nina told Purdue as they set the lockbox down on the steel table in the garage. “Is that code for something? Because I fail to see the purpose of placing an international call to report something so trivial.”

Purdue only smiled and nodded.

“He has codes for everything. My God, you should hear his chosen similes for lifting relics from the archeology museum in Dublin or altering the compounds of active toxins…” Agatha gossiped loudly before her brother interrupted.

“Agatha, could you kindly keep that to yourself? At least until I have cracked open this impenetrable case without rupturing whatever is inside.”

“Why don’t you use a blowtorch?” Sam asked from the door as he sauntered into the garage.

“Peter doesn’t have anything but the most basic tools,” Purdue said, scrutinizing the steel box from all sides to determine if there was some trickery afoot, perhaps a hidden compartment or pressure-point method to open the lockbox. About the size of a thick ledger, it had no seams, no visible lid or lock; in fact, it was a mystery how the journal was placed inside such a contraption in the first place. Even Purdue, who was not unfamiliar with advanced systems of storing and transporting, was baffled by the design of the thing. Still, it was only steel, not any kind of impregnable metal devised by scientists.

“Sam, my duffel bag over there… bring me the spyglass device, please,” Purdue asked.

When he activated the IR-function, he could survey the inside of the compartment. The smaller rectangle inside confirmed the size of the journal and Purdue used the device to mark each measurement point on the scope, so that the laser function would not move beyond those parameters when he used it to cut open the side of the box.

On the red setting, the laser, unseen apart from the red dot on its physical mark, cut with seamless precision along the marked measurements.

“Don’t hurt the book, David,” Agatha warned from behind him. Purdue clicked his tongue in annoyance at her redundant advice.

With a miniscule ribbon of smoke the fine orange line in molten steel progressed from one side to another, then downward, repeating its path until a perfect four-sided rectangle was cut in the flat side of the box.

“Now just wait for it to cool down a bit so we can lift the opposite side,” Purdue remarked as the others gathered, leaning over the table to better see what was about to be revealed.

“The book is larger than I thought it would be, I must confess. I imagined it a regular notepad-type thing,” Agatha said. “But it is a proper ledger, I reckon.”

“I just want to see the papyrus it is apparently paged with,” Nina commented. As a historian she found such antiquities almost holy.

Sam had his camera at the ready to record the dimensions and condition of the book, as well as the script inside. Purdue pried the cut lid open and uncovered a tanned, leather-bound pouch instead of a book.

“What the hell is that?” Sam asked.

“It’s a codex,” Nina exclaimed.

“A codex?” Agatha repeated, fascinated. “In the library archives where I worked for eleven years I constantly worked with them to reference the older scribes. Who would have thought that a German soldier would use a codex to record his daily goings on?”

“It is quite remarkable,” Nina said in awe while Agatha delicately removed it from its tomb with gloved hands. She was well versed in the handling of ancient documents and books and knew the fragility of each kind. Sam snapped pictures of the journal. It was as extraordinary as the legend predicted.

The front and back covers were made of cork oak, flat panels smoothed and treated with wax. With a heated iron rod or similar implement the wood was burnt to inscribe the name Claude Ernaux. This particular scribe, perhaps Ernaux himself, was not at all skilled in pyrography, because in several places charring stains could be discerned where too much pressure or heat was applied.

In between, a stack of papyrus sheets made up the contents of the codex and on the left it lacked a spine, like that of contemporary books, boasting instead a series of twine ties. Each tie was worked through the drilled holes on the side of the wooden panel and that ran through the papyrus, most of which had been torn free from wear and age. Yet the book retained the pages in most places and very few of the sheets were completely loose.

“This is such a big moment,” Nina marveled as Agatha allowed her to touch the material with her bare fingers to fully appreciate the texture and age. “To think, these pages were made by hands from the same era as Alexander the Great. I bet they survived Caesar’s siege at Alexandria too, not to mention the conversion of scrolls to books.”

“History nerd,” Sam teased dryly.

“Right, now that we have admired it and savored its ancient charm, we could probably move on to the poem and the rest of the clues to the jackpot,” Purdue declared. “This book might have stood the test of time, but I doubt we will, so… no time like the present.”

In Sam and Purdue’s quarters all four assembled to find the page of which Agatha had the photograph so that Nina could hopefully translate whatever words were missing from the lines of the poem. Each and every page was scribbled in French by someone who had a terrible command of hand, but Sam shot every leaf nonetheless and saved it all to his memory card. When they finally found the page, well over two hours later, the four explorers were elated to see that the full poem was still there. Eager to fill in the blanks, Agatha and Nina took to writing down the whole thing before trying to interpret the meanings.

“So,” Nina smiled satisfactorily, folding her hands on the table, “I’ve translated the missing words and now we have the complete piece.”

“Secret of ‘Ernaux’… umm, Ernaux is the writer of the journal, the French writer,” Sam said.

“Yes, the old soldier himself. Now that he has a name he is less of a myth, isn’t he?” Purdue added, looking nothing less than intrigued by the outcome of what was previously intangible and risky.

“His secret is obviously the treasure he had told of so long ago,” Nina smiled.

“So wherever the treasure is, the people there do not know about it?” Sam asked, blinking profusely as he always did when he tried to unravel a crow’s nest of possibilities.

“Correct. And it pertains to Heinrich I. What was Heinrich I known for?” Agatha pondered out loud, tapping her pen against her chin.

“Heinrich the First was the first king of Germany,” Nina revealed, “during the Middle Ages. So maybe we are looking for his birthplace? Or perhaps his seat of power?”

“No, wait. There’s more to it,” Purdue butted in.

“Like what?” Nina asked.

“Semantics,” he replied instantly, fingering the skin under the bottom frame of his glasses. “The line speaks of ‘he who holds his rebirth to Heinrich,’ so it has nothing to do with the actual king, but someone who was descendant of him, or likened himself to Heinrich I in some way.”

“My God, Purdue! You’re right!” Nina exclaimed, rubbing his upper arm in acclamation. “Of course! His descendants are long gone, apart from maybe a distant line that was not at all significant in the era Werner lived in, the First and Second World Wars. Remember, he was the city planner of Cologne during the Second World War era. That is important.”

“Okay. Fascinating. Why?” Agatha leaned in with her usual sobering reality check.

“Because the one thing Heinrich I had in common with World War II was the man who thought himself the reincarnation of the first king — Heinrich Himmler!” Nina almost shouted in her unbridled excitement.

“Another asshole Nazi surfacing. Why am I not surprised?” Sam sighed. “Himmler was a big dog. It should be easy to work this one out. He did not know he had this treasure, although it was in his hands, or something in that direction.”

“Yes, that is mostly what I get from that interpretation too,” Purdue agreed.

“So where would he keep something he didn’t know he had?” Agatha frowned. “His home?”

“Aye,” Nina grinned. Her excitement was hard to ignore. “And where did Himmler reside during the time of Klaus Werner, city planner of Cologne?”

Sam and Agatha shrugged.

“Sehr geehrte herren und dame,” Nina proclaimed dramatically, hoping her German was accurate in this instance, “Wewelsburg Castle!”

Sam smiled at her flamboyant announcement. Agatha just nodded and had another cookie, while Purdue slammed his palms together eagerly and rubbed them together.

“I take it you are not bowing out after all, then, Dr. Gould?” Agatha asked out of the blue. Purdue and Sam also stared at her inquisitively and waited.

Nina could not deny that she was captivated by the codex and its related information that spurred her to keep seeking to uncover what could be absolutely profound. Before, she thought she would be smart this time; to not go on wild goose chases anymore, but now that she saw yet another historical marvel unfold, how could she not pursue it? Was it not worth the peril to be part of something great?

Nina smiled, dismissing all her doubts in favor of what the codex could be harboring. “I’m in. God help me. I’m in.”