The Atlantis Stone

CHAPTER 38

The heat of the day had not yet begun and the patio doors of Elizabeth's office were open to the early morning. She poured a cup of coffee and went outside, where Stephanie sat at a shaded patio table. For the moment it was a pleasant morning in the Virginia countryside, the kind of morning when Elizabeth could pretend there was nothing more important to worry about than what she would have for lunch.

"I wonder what they're going to find down there," Stephanie said as Elizabeth sat down.

"The whole thing is hard to believe, isn't it? People have been arguing about the existence of Atlantis ever since Plato wrote about it."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they kept on arguing. A lot of experts are going to look pretty foolish if it really is Atlantis. They aren't going to want to believe it, even in the face of hard evidence."

"I've never understood why people are like that." Elizabeth sipped her coffee. "I can understand resisting change. Nobody really likes change. But when evidence smacks you in the face and you choose to ignore it, that's just stupidity."

"Nobody said humans were logical or sensible. All you have to do is look at Congress."

Elizabeth choked on her coffee, trying not to laugh.

Her satellite phone signaled Nick was calling.

"Good morning, Nick."

"We have a problem. The Russians showed up."

Elizabeth looked over at Stephanie. She activated the speaker.

"I was afraid that would happen."

"Do you have a satellite on us?"

"The next pass is in three hours from now. I can have a drone there before that. Is it a Federation warship?"

"No, it's a research vessel like ours, only bigger. There's already trouble. They knocked out one of our ROVs when it was underwater. I want eyes on us in case they decide to play rough."

"I'll task a drone after we're done talking. What have you found so far?"

"A ruined city, twenty-four hundred feet down. There's a pyramid in the middle of it. That's where we lost the robot. We've got footage of the interior. The walls are covered with writing, the same language that's on the pillar and the French tablet. Selena says it looks like a history of some sort. It will be a while before she has a translation."

"Any sign of an archive?"

"Not unless it's what's written on those walls. Everything's under silt and debris."

"What's your plan now?"

"We're going to send another ROV down. Sexton wants to recover his unit. We'll put someone in the water in case the Russians decide to go after this one too. They're not going to get away with it again."

"Be careful, Nick. This could turn into a major incident."

"There's more. Selena's sister is on that ship. So is the woman who shot at me in Egypt."

"That's not good," Elizabeth said. A headache started, a dull ache behind her left eye.

"I took pictures of everyone that was on deck. I'll send them to Steph when we're done talking. Might be useful."

"Brief me as soon as you know anything else."

"Copy that. Out."

Stephanie's phone chimed as Nick's pictures came through.

"I'll get these printed out."

Stephanie picked up her coffee and went inside. Elizabeth sat for a while longer, trying to hold on to the morning calm. After a few minutes she gave up and went inside.

For the next hour she focused on the morning's intelligence briefs, making comments for the president's consideration. Today was one of those days when the actions of so-called allies created almost as many problems as enemies. Elizabeth never ceased to be amazed at how so many incompetent and corrupt leaders reached positions of power.

Her father would have put it down to human nature. He'd been a judge in Western Colorado, where Elizabeth had grown up. More than once he'd challenged her perception of how life ought to be. Sometimes it had been uncomfortable, but it had helped make her the person she was today.

Before President Rice asked her to head up the Project, Elizabeth had worked in the Justice Department. At one point she'd been assigned to the 9/11 task force. After a few months she'd noticed a pattern about the investigation. Key pieces of information were being suppressed and kept from the public. When she went to her supervisor to point it out, he'd told her not to make waves. When she'd insisted, he'd told her to take a week off and think about it.

She'd gone home, angry and frustrated, venting her frustration to her father.

What do you want to do about it? he'd asked.

This investigation is being manipulated. I've seen evidence that proves the public narrative isn't what really happened.

You think there's a cover-up? Her father had taken out his pipe and begun filling it with tobacco.

It's hard to see any other explanation. The evidence just doesn't add up. Not only that, there was plenty of intelligence pointing to an imminent attack. It looks like it might have been deliberately ignored.

The judge lit his pipe and took several puffs. The sweet aroma of cured Turkish tobacco drifted across the porch where they sat.

Suppose you were able to make this information public. What do you think would happen?

I'm not sure anyone would believe me, Elizabeth had said.

And if they did?

It would cause big problems. If I'm right, this wasn't only a terrorist attack. Whoever's responsible should be held to account.

Let's say you're right, the judge had said. If it's what you say it is, the people behind it aren't going to let anyone change what you call the narrative.

I'm not afraid of them.

You ought to be. If you really want to do something about it, you'll have to take a different approach.

What approach?

In a way, you're already doing it. In the 1920s the American Communists talked about boring from within to bring change. They were right about that, even though they were wrong about everything else.

Her father had held up his pipe.

Democracy is like this pipe, he'd said. We have to pay attention if we want to keep it burning. It requires care. If you want to make a difference, you're not going to get it by playing Don Quixote against the system. It's too well-developed and too powerful. You have to bore from within.

It doesn't feel right to keep silent, Elizabeth had said.

That's your choice. Just be careful you don't take yourself out of the game. You can't play if you're not on the field.

When she'd returned to Washington, she'd kept asking uncomfortable questions. Two months later she was transferred to an endless RICO investigation. Her career had been shunted into a dead-end. Then Rice had called.

Stephanie came into the room, breaking Elizabeth's reverie. She had a folder under her arm.

"I printed and enlarged Nick's pictures. I got hits when I ran them through the facial identification program."

She laid the photographs out on Elizabeth's desk.

Selena's sister was in several of the shots. It looked like she was arguing with another woman. Two large men stood nearby.

"The woman with Selena's sister is an FSB officer named Rostov," Stephanie said. "She works directly under Volkov. He uses her as his personal attack dog. The two goons standing there are Russian Special Forces. They're from the Federation equivalent of our SEALS."

"Divers?"

"Seems logical."

"The Russians must know what's down there," Elizabeth said.

"Selena's sister is SVR. Why is she on a ship with someone from the FSB? Those two services don't cooperate worth a damn."

"It means Orlov has a hand in this. I know how Vysotsky thinks. He hates Volkov. He would never work with him unless ordered to do so. Orlov is playing some game."

"What do you think he's up to?" Stephanie asked.

"With Orlov you can't tell until after the fact. Whatever it is, that ship being there is bad news."

Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the desk.

"Are you going to take this to the president?" Stephanie asked.

"Not yet. I want pictures of what they found. I want Selena's translation of what they discovered. All we have now are underwater ruins and minor incidents. It's not enough."

"The Russians tried to kidnap Selena and kill Nick when they were in Egypt."

"Like I said, incidents. I need more before I can go to the White House. We need to know what that writing says."

"If I know Selena, she's working on it right now," Stephanie said.

"I'm sure she is."

"You need me for anything? I have a doctor's appointment."

"Is everything okay?"

"It's only a routine checkup. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Take your time."

"Thanks."

She left the room. Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and thought about how odd it was to be alone in the building during the day. Stephanie was always available for a talk over a cup of coffee. Aside from Stephanie and the team, there wasn't anyone else she could talk with.

During the day she was too busy with work to feel lonely. She loved interacting with the team. It was heady stuff to command the attention of the president. All of that was little consolation when she came home to her empty brownstone.

She thought about Clarence Hood. The trouble stirred up by the photograph was beginning to die down but a congressional inquiry was still a possibility, if for no other reason than to try and embarrass the president.

Maybe Clarence would like to have dinner this evening, she thought.

Elizabeth picked up her phone.