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As Lourds watched, his incredulity grew. The camera locked on the door. He gasped, unable to believe his eyes.

“The door is clearly shown here in the footage we’ve received from Father Sebastian’s public information team,” the news reporter was saying. “As yet, the excavation team hasn’t been able to progress beyond the door. My sources tell me that the archeologists fear the possibility of potential collapse as the excavation crews continue their work. For now, they are proceeding cautiously, if at all.”

Lourds grabbed a pen and paper from the nearby desk. Standing in front of the television, he started writing furiously.

“What is it?” Natasha asked.

“That writing on the door,” Lourds said hoarsely, “is in the same language and character set that I’m deciphering on those instruments.”

You really shouldn’t be doing this, Leslie Crane admitted to herself as she swiped the keycard through Lourds’s hotel room door. But she’d known she was probably going to do it the minute she kept the extra keycard for Lourds’s room that she’d gotten from the desk.

She’d tried staying mad at him for not stopping Natasha from burning her phone, but that hadn’t worked. In the end, Lourds was the story she’d sold to the production studio, and she had to have the story. Lourds was going to hand her a professional triumph.

More than that, she wanted the man himself for personal reasons. She’d slept just enough on the way back that she hadn’t been able to drift off to sleep. There was nothing like sex to take the edge off her emotions when she was feeling like she was.

She stepped into the room and found all the lights on. She’d expected the professor to be at the desk or in bed. She’d figured that he would spot her the minute she came through the door. They were all a little jumpy after their adventures the past few days. Having him see her walk in would have taken some of the surprise out of the equation of a meeting, but she didn’t think it would lessen any of the desire they felt for each other. She and Lourds were good in bed together. She was confident he felt the same way.

Only he wasn’t there.

Irritation filled Leslie when she thought Lourds might be prowling around the hotel after Natasha had given them all such stern warnings about keeping a low profile. Was the man out risking his neck and her story?

She started clearing off the bed. When he got back from wherever it was he’d gone, he could find her there and they could have makeup sex. It was nearly always the best kind. She didn’t think Lourds had been overly distraught about the rancorous feelings she’d harbored toward him just lately, but that didn’t dampen her enthusiasm.

Then she spotted the yellow legal tablet covered with Lourds’s neat handwriting on the desk. One word jumped out at her.

Atlantis.

Mesmerized, Leslie picked up the tablet and flipped through the pages. Atlantis was mentioned several times, as if Lourds kept coming back again and again to the same answer.

Island kingdom. Drowned Land. Defiance of God. One language. Atlantis.

Her sexual cravings forgotten, Leslie grabbed the tablet, took it to her room, and shot pictures of the pages with her digital camera. Her heart thudded frantically in her chest as she worked. She expected Lourds to return at any instant.

But he didn’t.

When she finished, she took the tablet back to his room. Her thoughts raced in circles within her mind. This was even bigger than she’d imagined it was. What she had was pure gold. If she could link Lourds’s name to the Atlantis dig site, somehow tie the bell they’d found on her show to it, the ratings for this program would go through the roof.

Not only that, but she might be able to sell another series. Maybe even for big bucks. If the Atlantis dig back in Spain turned out to be anything important, and it was getting more interesting with the discovery of the mysterious door, she could own a piece of that with the artifacts they were tracking.

Her excitement grew. So did her desire for sex. She settled onto the bed and waited. Impatiently.

After another hour, Lourds finally talked himself dry. The excitement still bubbled within him, though, and the idea of the massive door Father Sebastian had discovered wouldn’t let him go.

He couldn’t believe Natasha was still awake.

“So what are we to do?” she asked.

“Diop and Adebayo have called the other Seekers,” Lourds said as he sat on the edge of the desk across the room. “We’re going to meet in London.”

“They’re bringing the instruments?”

“Yes.”

“They’re showing a lot of trust in us.”

“No.” Lourds shook his head. “Wrong dynamic. They’re showing a lot of desperation. Gallardo and his employer have two of the instruments. If he’s able to decipher them, and there’s no reason that he won’t be able to—”

Natasha flashed him a teasing smile. “You’re admitting that someone else might be as linguistically gifted as you are?”

“Whoever it is,” Lourds pointed out, “has known more about what we’re chasing than we have.”

“Do you think he knows about Atlantis?”

Lourds didn’t hesitate. Now that she’d asked the question, everything seemed clear to him. “Probably.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “Have you given any thought to the Church’s position in this?”

“The Church? The Catholic Church?” Lourds shook his head. “Why would they—?”

“Be funding and directing a dig site at a place that might be Atlantis?” Natasha interrupted. “I asked myself the same question. What possible interest could the Roman Catholic Church have there?”

Lourds considered that because connecting the two events—Atlantis and the Church excavation with the instruments—had truly never occurred to him. However, in light of the potential links to Atlantis—and knowing that the Church had a wealth of documentation at their beck and call—how could the Church not know?

Uneasiness filtered through him when he considered the ramifications. The Church had a network that spanned the world. If anyone could search for something hundreds—even thousands—of years, the Roman Catholic Church could do that.

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” he said.

“Do you?” Natasha arched a brow.

“You’re talking about a conspiracy.”

“I see conspiracies all the time in my job. Conspiracy to commit murder. Conspiracy to commit robbery. Conspiracy to commit fraud. Something’s being hidden here, and it’s been hidden for possibly thousands of years. Now that it’s starting to come out, don’t you think someone would want to control it?”

What she said made perfect sense—from the logistics of knowing about the research involved—and it rocked Lourds back on his heels.

“No one could have counted on the tsunami pushing that piece of land back to the surface in Spain,” Lourds said.

“Maybe someone was counting on it never coming back up,” Natasha said. “When someone puts a body into the Moskva River, they don’t expect that body to show up again. But sometimes they do.”

“You’re talking about a murder,” Lourds said. “After a century or so, everyone concerned with it will be dead.”

“I’m talking about an event. You mentioned the sinking of Atlantis. The destruction of the Tower of Babel. Those are some pretty far-reaching events. And those are only the ones you know about right now. What if there’s more?”

Lourds thought about it. There was more. There had to be more. If the instruments didn’t matter to someone, then why had Yuliya been killed?

“We’ll keep looking,” he said.

“Expect more resistance,” Natasha replied. “I’m sure that whoever is behind Gallardo didn’t intend for you to find out this much.”

Lourds nodded, then pushed himself up. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m certain I am. That’s why Gallardo and his men have been trying to kill us.” Natasha wrapped her arms around her knees.

“I’d best be going.” Lourds started for the door. “Perhaps you can get a few hours of sleep before we catch the flight this afternoon.” He had his hand on the door when she called him back.

“I’m not sleepy,” she said.

Lourds looked at her for a moment as he wondered about the implication in her words.

“Unless you’ll feel you’re being disloyal,” Natasha said.

“No,” Lourds said as he stepped toward the bed. Since Leslie hadn’t come to bed with him since they were in Nigeria. And she wasn’t any too happy with him lately. He figured that was pretty much that.

Natasha met him with open arms.

Harsh knocking woke Lourds. He was barely awake as Natasha disengaged from him and came up with her pistol over him. The sheet slid off her and revealed her naked body.

Then the door opened and Leslie barged through. “It’s after eleven,” she snapped. “If you don’t get up, you’re going to miss the flight.” She glared at Lourds. “You are a proper bastard, aren’t you?”

Lourds didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“I could shoot her,” Natasha said in Russian. She made no move to cover herself.

“No,” Lourds croaked as his mind spun freely and he tried to find some purchase to hang a cohesive thought.

Without another word, Leslie strode from the room and barreled through Gary, Diop, and Adebayo. The two older men tried to hide their amusement.

“Man,” Gary said, “that’s bloody harsh. I tried to get her not to use that extra keycard. She just wouldn’t listen after she figured out where you were.”

“Could you close the door?” Lourds asked.

Gary gave him a brief salute and did just that.

Natasha heaved herself out of bed and started toward the shower.

Lourds lay there feeling like the unwanted prize in a fierce competition. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d enjoyed himself, he might have felt bad about it. But he watched the suggestive roll of Natasha’s bare flanks till she caught him staring.

She grabbed his shirt from the desk and threw it at him. “Get dressed.”

“We could shower together,” Lourds suggested. “It would save time.”

Natasha looked back at him and grinned. “If last night was any indication, we’d be even later.” She closed the bathroom door.

Lourds groaned and forced himself from bed. It promised to be a long flight back to London, given the circumstances. Thankfully, he had a toehold on translating the inscriptions. If everything went right and his present luck didn’t hold, he might have it translated by the time they landed.

CHAPTER

21

MURTALA MOHAMMED INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

LAGOS, NIGERIA

SEPTEMBER 12, 2009

H

ey.”

Alerted by Gary’s voice, Leslie flicked her eyes up to his reflection in the glass. She’d been looking out at the planes on the runways. Her father’s business had often taken him out of the country. She and her mother had always taken him to Heathrow to see him off. The planes held a fascination for her. People were always coming and going.

“What?” Leslie asked.

Gary shrugged self-consciously. He looked like a dork standing there, iPod earbuds hanging around his neck. Then she realized how unkind she was being to him. Unfortunately, at the moment, she didn’t care. But she knew she would later, so she curbed biting observations that immediately came to mind.

“Just wanted to make sure you were all right,” Gary said.

“I’m fine.”

Gary nodded. “I figured you would be.”

“I’m a big girl,” Leslie said, and tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “It’s not like he broke my heart. We were just having sex.”

“Yeah. I know. I’ve been there a few times myself.” Gary showed her a lopsided grin. “Funny how you start off telling yourself that it’s just a physical thing and you don’t care—”

“I don’t care.”

“—but you end up in a twist anyway when it ends.” Gary looked more uncomfortable. “I just wanted you to know you’re not alone.”

“Are you feeling particularly big brotherly today?”

“Maybe a little.”

Leslie glared at the reflection of Lourds and Natasha in the seats by their departure gate. The professor worked on the legal pads. The Russian cow sat reading a magazine and sipping water. None of them were talking to each other.

“Then, as my big brother, shouldn’t you go beat Lourds up for me?” Leslie asked.

Gary frowned. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not? Surely you’re not afraid of him. He’s just a university professor. A rough-and-tumble lad like yourself shouldn’t have any trouble with the likes of him.”

“Lourds doesn’t worry me. I’m more afraid of his new girlfriend. She could kick my arse without blinking. And that’s if she didn’t kill me first.”

“Some big brother,” Leslie muttered.

A pained expression twisted Gary’s features. “I just wanted to let you know I was here if you needed anything.” He turned and walked away.

Leslie sighed. You needn’t have been so harsh with him. This isn’t any of his fault. She sipped her sports drink and resumed watching planes. Later she’d apologize to Gary for being bitchy. But for the moment she needed to stay angry.

Being angry was the only way she was going to stay selfish enough to betray Lourds’s confidence and look after her own career. She knew that was what she had to do. Besides, after finding him in Natasha’s bed this morning, she figured it was what he deserved.

______

A few minutes later, the flight began boarding. Leslie watched Natasha and Lourds gather their things. Diop and Adebayo continued talking about whatever they’d been discussing all morning as they shuffled along. Gary had found a pretty young woman to chat up.

Steeling herself, Leslie turned and dropped the empty sports drink container into a waste receptacle. She headed for the phones over by the bathrooms.

After she swiped the company credit card she carried, she punched in her supervisor’s phone number.

“Wynn-Jones.”

“Philip, it’s Leslie.”

Wynn-Jones’s voice immediately took on a note of severe irritation. “Where the bloody hell are you?”

At another time, Leslie might have been in fear for her job. But not today. The story she had to tell was simply too big.

“In Nigeria,” she answered.

Wynn-Jones cursed spectacularly. “Do you know how much this little foray is costing us?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Leslie replied honestly. She’d given up keeping track after she’d seen bills for the first few thousands of pounds they’d spent.

“You’ve gone far beyond anything I can cover. When you get back here, you might as well start filling out résumés. And you’re bloody lucky we’re going to fly you back home.”

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t demand a pay raise.”

That set off another round of curses.

“Philip,” Leslie said as the final boarding call pealed through the public address system, “I can give you Atlantis.”

The curses stopped.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Yes.” Wynn-Jones sounded cautious.

“What we’ve been following up—the bell in Alexandria, the cymbal that was found in Russia, and a drum here in Nigeria that I’ve not had time to tell you about yet—it’s all connected to Atlantis. Lourds came through. I can prove it.”