Andy McDermott - Nina Wilde, Eddie Chase 02 The Tomb of Hercules: A Novel

Covered inbroken pieces of wood and plaster and tile, Mac sat up. The thick sides of theold bath had shielded him from the direct blast of the grenade. Dust and smokeswirled through the room, but he could still see clearly enough to make outwhat was outside the broken door-way, a squat cylinder lying on its side on thesmoldering carpet

Bastards! hehissed.

He knew whatit was. Hed used similar devices in his own career.

It was afuel-air explosive charge. An antiterrorist weapon, designed to clear large butconfined spaces like cave systems by releasing a cloud of highly flammablevapor and then detonating, creating a massive fireball that raced outwards tofill every nook and cranny, consuming whatever lay in its path.

And it wouldwork just as well in a London house as an Afghan cavern.

A gray mistspewed from the cylinder.

Nina! heyelled as he stood. Get out of the house!Get out!

Also by AndyMcDermott

The Hunt forAtlantis

For my familyand friends

PROLOGUE

The Gulf of

Cdiz

One hundredmiles off the southern coast of Portugal was hidden one of the greatest secretsin human history.

For now, itwould remain hidden, guarded by another secret of much more recent origin.

Officially,the giant six-legged floating platform was listed as SBX-2, a sea-based X-bandradar station. Nicknamed the Taj Mahal for the huge white radar dome dominatingits upper deck, the high-tech U.S. Navy behemoth swept the skies to the eastfor thousands of miles, its stated purpose to monitor North Africa and theMiddle East for ballistic missile launches. In function and application, it waswhat it claimed to be.

But that was not the real reason for itspresence. The truth lay eight hundred feet below.

Fifteen monthsearlier, the citadel at the heart of the lost civilization of Atlantislongbelieved to be nothing more than a legendhad been discovered directly beneathwhere the SBX was now anchored. Though the only visible structure, the hugeTemple of Poseidon, had been destroyed, radar surveys had revealed many moreburied beneath the silt covering the seafloor. Since the discovery of Atlantishad ultimately turned out to be part of a conspiracy to exterminatethree-quarters of humanity with a biological weapon, the Western governmentsthat stepped in after the plot was foiled decided that not only thecircumstances of the ancient citys discovery, but also the mere fact of itsexistence should remain a secret. At least, until a more benign story of itsfinding could be concoctedand any danger of someone repeating the genocidalplan eliminated.

So while theSBX stood vigil over the skies, beneath it scientists and archaeologistsexplored the site in secrecy under the auspices of the International HeritageAgency, a United Nations organization established a year earlier with themandate of locating and securing ancient sites such as Atlantis. The centralleg on the starboard side of the giant radar platform had been converted into asubmersible pen, a section of the pontoon at its base now open to the sea.Shielded by concrete walls six feet thick, the IHA scientists were normallyable to conduct their explorations with no interference from the outside world.

But nottonight.

Jesus,muttered Bill Raynes, the IHAs expedition director, clutching a handrail asthe rig swayed again. The SBX was so massive and securely anchored thatnormally even an Atlantic storm did little more than gently rock it.

This was clearly a much bigger storm thanusual.

One of thebright yellow two-man submersibles swung on its chains as it was winched out ofthe water. Raynes watched it anxiously. Its twin was already secured over thedock, but if conditions got much worse there was a danger that the loose subcould become an uncontrollable pendulum.

Get a line onthe damn thing! he ordered. Two of his men hurried to obey, staggering aroundthe edge of the moon pool as the floor lurched beneath them. They waited forthe sub to swing back towards them, then snagged one of the chains with a boathook, damping its motion. The dangerous swaying reduced, the winch operatorraised the submersible fully into position above the dock, where more chainswere quickly attached to secure it.

Okay! Goodwork, guys, Raynes called, letting out a relieved breath. Both subs were nowsafely in place, which meant the days operations were concluded. On mostevenings, that would have been the cue for him to go up to the main deck andenjoy a cigar.

Not tonight, though.He wasnt going to set one foot outdoors if he didnt have to. He felt a briefstab of pity for the Marines stationed aboard the platform, who had guard dutyno matter what the conditions. Poor bastards.

The unexpectedweather aside, it had been a good day. The high-resolution sonar mapping of thecitadel was ahead of schedule, and the excavation of the first site had alreadyproduced results, an exciting haul of Atlantean artifacts valuable in bothhistorical and monetary terms. He may not havediscovered Atlantis, butRaynes had already decided that he was damn well going to be the person famousforexploring it.

The actualdiscoverer of Atlantis was Dr. Nina Wilde,fifteen years Rayness junior andon paper at leasthis IHA superior. Hewondered if the red-haired New Yorker had any idea that by accepting a seniorpost in the IHA shed effectively ended her archaeological career before eventurning thirty. Probably not, he decided. While she was certainly cute to lookat, Nina also came across to Raynes as naive. It seemed to him that shed beengiven the position of director of operations as a way to keep herand herbodyguard-turned-boyfriend, Eddie Chase, whom Raynes regarded as little morethan a sarcastic English thugquiet and out of trouble while more experiencedhands got on with the real work.

He made hisway to the elevator cage running up the inside of the support leg, glancing atthe dark void overhead. The SBXs main deck, the size of two football fields,was twelve stories above sea level. Carrying the case of artifacts, Raynesslammed the gate closed and pushed the button to ascend.

Water sprayedup into the dock below as waves slapped noisily against the sides of the pool.He had never seen conditions inside the sub pen so bad before. Normally, theocean surface inside the moon pool did little more than ripple. If it was thisbad inside, he didnt even want to think about what it would be like outside.

Spray blastedalmost horizontally over the surface of the Atlantic, waves poundingexplosively against the forward leg on the rigs port side. The metal staircasethat rose from the submerged pontoon to a ladder stretching up the toweringstructure rattled and moaned under the onslaught. It was not a place whereanyone in his right mind would choose to be.

But someonewasthere.

The man was a giant, six feet eight inchestall, with every hard-packed muscle in his athletes body picked out by hisskintight black wet suit. He emerged from the water and made his way up thestairs, hands clamping around the railings with the force of a vise, even thethunderous impact of the waves barely throwing him off his stride.

Once clear ofthe churning ocean, he paused to remove the scuba regulator from his mouth,revealing perfect white teethone inset with a diamondsurrounded by ebonyskin, then began his climb up the ladder. Considering the distance and theconditions, most men would have been lucky to make it in under five minutes,and exhausted by the time they reached the top.

The intrudermade it in two, and was breathing no more heavily than if hed climbed a singleflight of stairs.

Just below thetop of the ladder, he stopped and carefully raised his head above the edge ofthe deck. The blocky gray superstructure of the SBX was three floors high,catwalks running along each level at the platforms bow. Sickly yellow lightsmade a feeble attempt to illuminate them. Rain spattered on the mans divingmask, obscuring his view. He frowned and pulled it from his face, revealingcalculating black eyes before he flipped down another pair of goggles from thetop of his head.