The Secret of Atlantis

CHAPTER SIX

“Who knew Liechtenstein was so damn pretty?” Lea said.

“Or so damn small,” said Scarlet. “Rich has got a bathroom bigger than this whole country back in his Oxford mansion.”

“It’s not that small,” Ryan said.

“Are you kidding?” Scarlet said dismissively. “You can drive across it in about ten minutes. They probably share the electricity bill.”

The corner of Hawke’s mouth turned up in amusement as Reaper drove them south along the Bergstrasse to the tiny village of Bärg. Like everyone else in the team he had never been to Liechtenstein before and was impressed by how so many awesome mountains could be packed into such a small country.

“It’s amazing how so much Alpine beauty fits into such a diminutive principality,” Ryan said.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Hawke said, glancing in the mirror. “Sort of.”

They turned a sharp hairpin bend in the road and headed north, at once revealing a generous view of the country’s capital, Vaduz. With only a little over five thousand residents in the town, it was one of the smallest capitals in the world, but it was a startlingly alluring town with its narrow roads and cathedral spire. As they pushed higher into the mountains, Ryan pointed out Vaduz Castle, the Sovereign Prince’s official residence, far below at the start of the Bergstrasse.

“There it is again,” he said, impressed by its 11th Century keep which peered imperiously over the entire valley below.

“And that’s where the king lives, right?” Lea said.

“He’s a prince, actually,” Ryan replied. “His official title is His Serene Highness,”

“Ooh I like that,” Scarlet said. “Is he married?”

“Yes, to a Czech countess,” he said wryly, “but I’m sure he’d be much happier with you.”

Onwards up the western slopes of the Alpspitz they drove until they reached Bärg and slowed to meet its fifty kph speed limit. Reaper cruised past the wooden ski chalets and neatly trimmed gardens. A bank of clouds was blowing in from the north and covering much of the country below in cool shade.

Turning into an unsealed side road they drove another few hundred yards to a set of imposing iron gates. They opened as if by magic and allowed them to cruise up Wolff’s drive and park up outside the main entrance to his chalet.

Set over four storeys, the postmodern chalet was constructed out of hardwood timber, steel and glass, but boulders and stones from the mountain itself supported its base.

The door opened to reveal a man in a smart two-piece suit. He acknowledged them politely but without a smile. “My name is Brunhart. I keep the house.”

Hawke and Lea shared a wordless glance as Brunhart showed them into a vast slate-floored hallway.

“Please follow me.”

Brunhart led them out of the hall and they turned to walk down a long, cedar panelled corridor decorated occasionally with peculiar abstract sculptures in white porcelain. Approaching a closed door, Brunhart tapped respectfully and moments later they were standing inside a large, high-ceilinged room with white stucco walls and a vast slate fireplace. All around the room were pieces of ancient art and archaeology, and the entire western wall was an eight-metre high window which projected the most incredible view of the valley into the postmodern space. Lea felt like she was in an IMAX cinema. One of Bach’s orchestral suites played quietly through concealed speakers.

“Please, wait here,” Brunhart said. “I will tell Herr Wolff you have arrived.”

Brunhart clicked the door behind him and a silence fell on the expansive room.

“He actually squeaks when he walks,” Lexi said with amazement.

Lea rolled her eyes. “That’s his shoes.”

“Look at all this stuff,” Ryan said, marvelling at the collection of ancient art and sculptures. “It’s amazing.”

“Looks like a load of crap to me,” Scarlet said dismissively.

“What the hell is this?” Lea asked as she picked up what looked like a small wooden club.

“I can’t be sure,” Ryan said, squinting at it, “but it looks a lot like a wooden phallus from the Kabye tribe of Togo.”

“Urghh,” Lea said, and threw it into the air in horror.

“Ah, but this has potential,” Scarlet said, catching it with one hand and winking at Ryan.

“You are something else, Sloane,” Camacho said, wrenching it out of her hand and putting it back on the shelf with the rest of the collection. He looked at her and shook his head.

The moment ended abruptly when a tall, thin man entered the room not by the door Brunhart had used but by a concealed entrance behind the fireplace. He had silver, neck-length hair swept back from his face in neat perfection and wore a dark Nehru jacket. Holding his arms behind his back he approached them and introduced himself in a clipped, cultured accent. “I’m honoured Sir Richard organized things so quickly,” he said with a businesslike nod of his head. He approached Ryan first and shook his hand fervently. “I am Otmar Wolff and you must be Joe Hawke! I read about your involvement in the discovery of the Temple of Huitzilopochtli and I must say this is a true privilege to meet you.”

“Why, thank you!” Ryan said with a grin and returning the handshake. “I’m very…”

“Very much not Joe Hawke,” Lea said with a disapproving look. “This is Ryan Bale, Herr Wolff, and I’m Lea Donovan. This is Joe Hawke…”

The man looked embarrassed for a moment before apologizing for his mistake, and then greeted everyone in turn. “Please — have a seat.”

The ECHO team welcomed his offer and made use of the eclectic jumble of sofas and chairs scattered around the large fireplace, but Ryan paused to peer into the secret passageway.

“Ryan, arse on couch right now,” Scarlet said.

“Oh, yeah… sorry.”

“You have a beautiful home, Herr Wolff,” Lea said.

Wolff nodded pensively, as if he were considering whether the statement was true or not. “It was very expensive to build,” he explained. “We had to use helicopters to transport the steel up here because the trucks they wanted to use couldn’t handle the roads.”

“Isn’t that always the problem?” Hawke said, drawing a hard nudge in his ribs from Lea’s elbow.

“Your journey up the Bergstrasse would have taken you past Vaduz Castle, I’m sure, so you see my home is really very modest.” He smiled and his eyes danced across their faces. “But I digress. I liaised with Sir Richard and the Mexicans to get you here because I feel we may be of mutual assistance to each other. As a serious collector in the world of archaeology, I have followed your exploits closely. I hope that doesn’t make me sound like an obsessive. It is a pleasant and necessary distraction from my business life.” He smiled at them warmly. “I presume Sir Richard briefed you fully about my business proposal?”

“You want us to retrieve the idol for you,” Lea said.

“The stolen idol,” Wolff corrected. “Yes.”

“Of course.”

“I have an extensive collection of antiquities as you can see for yourselves, and the discovery of the Temple of Huitzilopochtli must rank as one of the greatest archaeological events in modern history. The idol you retrieved from it is of particular interest to me as my primary fascination is with the Phoenician Empire. I can’t begin to imagine how an idol depicting Tanit ended up in Mexico, but I know I cannot live without it. I am a greedy man, and I want that idol. That is why I have offered the Mexican Government fifty million dollars for it. You will be paid ten percent now and another ten percent upon delivering the item to me — all in cash.”

As he spoke Brunhart walked into the room with a black leather attaché case and Wolff opened it to reveal five million American dollar in neat bundles.

“But fifty million dollars?” Ryan said. “It was only eight inches high!”

“I am aware of its dimensions, Mr Bale. There are other dark forces seeking that idol, and they must not be permitted to acquire it under any circumstances. I can tell you no more until you have retrieved the idol from the Mexican thief. Only then will you be told the rest… and get your money, naturally.”

“Dark forces?” Lea asked.

“As I say, I am not at liberty to say more.”

As he spoke, Ryan perused the extensive collection of antiquities, stopping at a stone sculpture of the Lady of Elche. Ryan’s eyes widened like saucers. “I thought this was in the National Archaeological Museum in Madrid?”

Wolff turned to face him. “A reproduction only. This is the genuine piece. I paid far too much for it.”

“I’ve seen it in pictures but never up close like this. She’s incredible.”

“I’m very proud of it,” Wolff said.

Ryan made a circle around the sculpture and studied the intricate carvings with care. What had once been an impressive piece of Phoenician sculpture now took on an entirely different perspective thanks to what he had seen in the depths of Mictlan.

“It’s made of limestone and was discovered over a hundred years ago near Valencia,” Wolff continued, noting his interest, “but the truth is we know very little about it. There are many sculptures of Tanit in the world, but la dama de Elche has always captivated me.”

“Naturally,” Ryan said, still peering at the convoluted carvings in the headdress. “The idol I saw in Mexico looked like this one, and precisely so, as well.”

Wolff rose from his seat. “Am I right in understanding you also found the Treasure of the Sad Night?”

Ryan nodded. “The Aztecs were storing it inside the Temple of Huitzilopochtli so we know they were using the place up till the conquest era but they never took it inside Mictlan itself. We know this because we found it dumped outside the gates of the underworld and we know the Spanish never went inside because it was sealed shut. But the idol itself came from Mictlan.”

“We can’t say much more,” Camacho said stepping forward, “for reasons of national security. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course,” Wolff said.

“So now we know who you are and what you want,” Hawke said, “what part will you be playing in all this, except for paying a shed load of cash for the idol?”

“My part in all this is to supply you with whatever armaments you may feel necessary to achieve your mission. As you will no doubt be aware, I have access to the very latest weapons technologies in the world and you are welcome to use any you deem appropriate in order to secure the idol for me.”

“All my Christmases have come at once,” Scarlet muttered.

“My warehouse is in a secure facility on the outskirts of Vaduz, but I took the liberty of having a selection brought here to my home. Please, won’t you follow me?”

Wolff led them through the secret passageway and along a dimly lit corridor. “This goes through the heart of the house,” he said solemnly. “If you’ll please follow me down these steps.”

“Are we sure this is Liechtenstein?” Ryan whispered to Maria. “What if we took a wrong turn and it’s Transylvania?”

She playfully slapped the back of his head and told him to shut up.

They approached another door which gave way to a short corridor with breeze block walls and a cement floor. “It’s just down here.” He opened a second door and they entered a small storage facility. “This is the vault.”

Inside the climate-controlled vault, Wolff made a sweeping gesture with his hands and revealed the largest cache of weapons Hawke had ever seen outside of any military arsenal.

“This is incredible!” Scarlet said.

Wolff smiled, beaming with pride. He tipped his head forward in a courteous and courtly bow. “And yours for the taking, my dear.”