Free Atlantis Stolen (Sam Reilly Book 3) by Christopher Cartwright Page B

had been nearly twenty
years since the ancient brotherhood met for official reasons, but in that time,
the internet and global communications had changed a lot. As did the way they
ran their business in the past eleven thousand years.
    What was once a
society hidden by cloaks of darkness, and secret handshakes was now run by five
men from around the world, each powerful and intelligent in their own right. A merchant
banker, a Russian oil and gas tycoon, a leader of the most dangerous private
mercenary army in the world, a politician, a CEO of one of the greatest
technology firms on the planet.
    Their faces had
been obscured to maintain anonymity. Andrew had never met any of them in
person. But together they had a combined power that enabled them to change the
world.
    Of the five of
them, Andrew had been chosen to now lead the secret organization.
    One of them was
still missing, lost in action. He had gone to infiltrate an enemy of the
brotherhood. But now, it appeared that the man had been killed as a result, and
hadn’t been heard of since.
    Instead of secret
caves, handshakes, and all those stupid things that went with the role, the
small gathering met via video conferencing, over secure networks, using satellites
that Andrew, himself, owned.
    Up until a couple
days ago, Andrew had assumed the entire premise for their organization had been
a giant farce, made up by one of his great ancestors to maintain power and control
over his fellow man. The only reason he’d even maintained the pretense and
continued the organization, managing it as the most senior leader, was because
of the connections that the organization had given him.
    After all, each
of the men in the virtual room today had a net worth of nearly a hundred
million dollars. And that sort of money came with contacts.
    Still in his day
suit, having long ago abandoned the ornamental cloaks, he accepted the final
member to the virtual room and began to chair the meeting.
    “Nearly six hours
ago a woman I was paid to capture was stolen from me. It has since then come to
my attention that she was in possession of the knowledge that lead her towards
the current resting place of Atlantis.”
    He saw the same
look on their faces as he had his own. They all said the same thing: so
Atlantis was real, and so was the prophecy…
    “Do we know how
much they know?” It was Kazimir – his name literally meant the destroyer of
peace.
    “No, we know that
they discovered something that proved unequivocally the existence of Atlantis
and directed them to Amsterdam. What sent them there, I have no idea. There,
they found the map to the gateway, also known as the Arcane Stone. Without Dr. Billie
Swan, Sam Reilly and Tom Bower are having to backtrack, but they’re gaining
momentum and have already booked a flight to Tibet!”
    “Tibet?” It was
Richard who spoke first. “But we’ve already been to Tibet. There’s nothing but
scribbles there. Codes to enter the inner sanctum of Atlantis. But they’re
worth nothing without any knowledge of Atlantis itself.”
    “But what if they
already know?” said Mr. Armel, the head of a private army of expert soldiers. He
had employed soldiers who were leaders in their own country, turning them to
the lucrative profession of mercenaries.
    Andrew smiled.
“No, I don’t think Sam Reilly and Tom Bower know any more than we do. But what
about Dr. Swan?”
    James Bradley, a billionaire
turned politician from Oregon, looked irritated. “And if Dr. Swan does know its
exact location, then that would explain why someone would want to abduct her.
Which brings us to the next logical question. Who would have the knowledge and
power to do so?”
    Andrew sighed.
He’d not thought it through so far. “No idea, but I’ve already sent a team
there personally, to protect the code to the gateway and find out.”

Chapter Eighteen
    French Riviera
– Four Weeks Remaining
    Le Vieux, Nice
was a honeycomb of narrow streets, dotted with beautiful Baroque