"Wouldn't it have been lost in whatever disaster destroyed Atlantis? Assuming this really is about Atlantis in the first place."
"The hieroglyphic part of the inscription says that 'in the days before the great King Menes' Atlantis conquered what is now Egypt and Libya. King Menes ruled five thousand years ago. The pillar was found in Egypt. If the archive wasn't in Atlantis it might be in one of those two countries. There could be records about this stone they used to produce power."
"If the records exist."
Selena nodded. "If they exist and if we can find them."
Elizabeth tapped her fingers on her desk. "Those are two big ifs."
"The Russians will translate the inscription. When they do, they'll start looking for that archive. I've translated what can be seen on the column and the location isn't there. No one is going to find anything without more information."
"When are Ronnie and Lamont coming back, Director?" Nick asked. "I thought they'd be here today."
"Ronnie has one more follow-up test this morning. Lamont is coming in this afternoon. He's cleared for light duty only. I'm going to put him in the armory for now. We've got the new MP-7s to familiarize ourselves with."
Nick grunted. "About time we got those. It seems like all the bad guys wear armor these days. Our MP-5s don't cut it anymore."
"Schedule weapons practice with Lamont. Once you're comfortable with the guns on the range, take everyone through the combat target course and see how they do."
The combat target course was set up in a warehouse-like building across from Project Headquarters. It could be configured as a town, city or country environment. As a shooter went through the course, life-size targets popped out at unexpected times from unexpected places. Some were bad guys, others were noncombatant civilians. Deciding which was which had to be done in a fraction of a second. Grading was based on speed, hits and accurate choices. Shooting an assailant aiming a weapon was good. Shooting a civilian carrying a baby was not so good. It was easy to make a mistake when it counted for real.
"Who gets to set up the course?" Nick asked.
"Lamont, of course."
"That should make it interesting."
Selena stirred in her seat. "I was telling Nick I thought I'd seen something similar to that inscription."
"Where?" Elizabeth asked.
"I just remembered while we were talking. I read an article a few months ago about the French Museum of Natural History. They were in the midst of a major renovation and discovered a disused storeroom in the basement. It was filled with broken furniture and the like. There was a photograph of the room in the article. I'm sure I saw something in the picture with writing similar to what's on the column."
"Wouldn't the museum put it on display?" Elizabeth asked.
"Not necessarily. They have more than enough artifacts. One more or less doesn't make any difference, unless it's historically important. They might not even have tried to translate it."
"Can you find that article with the photograph?"
"I think so."
"Go look for it."
"If it's where I think it is, I can lay my hands on it and be back here in a couple of hours."
"Good. Nick, while she's doing that why don't you start with the guns? Everything's down there ready to be unpacked."
"Shouldn't I wait for Lamont?"
"He won't mind if you open up a couple of crates and get a head start."
Ten minutes later Selena had gone back to their loft and Nick was down in the armory prying open a crate containing the Heckler and Koch MP-7 submachine guns. They'd been shipped wrapped in a polyester film called boPET. It beat the old days, when weapons were often covered in a thick coat of cosmoline that took hours to remove. He took out one of the guns and stripped away the protective covering.
The MP-7 had been purpose-designed to defeat an enemy wearing body armor. It took a specialized 4.6 X 30 mm cartridge unique to the gun. The round could punch through twenty layers of Kevlar. A 9mm or a .45 couldn't do that. A .45 slug would hurt like hell and knock the bad guy down but he could get up again and keep shooting.
The gun had all the bells and whistles German engineering could think of: an extendable stock and folding fore grip, a Picatinny rail to handle various accessories, places to attach optical sites and lasers, folding iron sights and a magazine capacity up to forty rounds. It was small enough to use like a pistol but easily turned into a full-fledged assault weapon.
The compact, lethal package weighed in at a little over four pounds.
Someone's always coming up with better ways for you to kill people.
The thought took Nick by surprise. It made him uneasy. He wasn't given to introspection on the firing range. He looked down at the precision weapon in his hands, an instrument of death.
You and the Grim Reaper, buddy, his inner voice said.
He set the gun down on the table. His hands were sweating.
Maybe it's time for me to quit, he thought.
CHAPTER 7
Selena had found the magazine with the article about the French museum. Now she was back at Project Headquarters, showing the picture she'd remembered to Elizabeth and Nick.
"You can make out the corner of a stone tablet behind that pile of broken chairs. The picture is blurry but you can see some writing on it. It's the same script as in the photograph."
"I guess we're going to Paris," Nick said.
"It's the only way to see what's on that tablet."
"How are you going to persuade them to show it to you?"
"I don't think it will be difficult," Selena said. "My reputation will get me in the door."
"You'll have to go commercial," Elizabeth said. "The Gulfstream is down for maintenance."
"I checked the schedules. There's a flight to Paris from Dulles leaving at six tonight."
"What about our weapons?" Nick said.
"You know the French are touchy about that. Even if you box them for the plane there's no guarantee you'll get them back after you land. You shouldn't need them."
"I've heard that too many times to put much faith in it."
Selena said, "It should be all right. We'll only be there long enough to photograph the tablet and go back to the airport for the flight home."
That evening they boarded an Air France flight to Paris and settled into business class. The seats were wide and comfortable. Once they were in the air Nick ordered an Irish whiskey. Selena asked for a mimosa.
Nick sampled his drink and leaned back.
"Sometimes I wish the only language you understood was English."
"If that were the case we wouldn't get to go to all these interesting places."
"Yeah, like Mali and Algeria. Or Pakistan. Real tourist spots."
"It's not always like that. Tomorrow will be interesting. You'll see."
Nick dozed in fits and starts on the plane. His dreams were jumbled, unpleasant. The next morning they had breakfast at a sidewalk café and took a cab to the French National Museum of Natural History.
The museum was situated in the heart of Paris on the left bank of the Seine in the Jardin des Plantes, once the Royal botanical garden. The neoclassical building dominated the landscape.
"Big, isn't it?" Nick said.
"This is only one location. There are fourteen sites, four of them here in Paris. This is the original and the most impressive. Wait until you see the Grand Gallery."
"You've been here before?"
"The first time was when I was a child. My uncle brought me here when I was eleven."
Selena had called ahead and arranged to see the tablet in the basement. As she'd predicted, her credentials had smoothed the way. They were met by the assistant director of the museum, Pierre Arnaud. Arnaud was dressed in a French suit with broad pinstripes that made him look like a gangster from a black and white movie. Nick could almost hear Edith Piaf singing in the background.