The Atlantis Code Read Online Free PDF

of healthy and sane. His head was shaved. Aviator sunglasses bisected his face.
    “They’re inside?” Gallardo asked.
    “Yes.” Cimino picked up a machine pistol as well.
    “Security?”
    “Building only. Not much of that.” Cimino threaded a silencer into place on his weapon with practiced ease.
    “Sounds good to me.” Farok armed one of the machine pistols, then dropped it into a canvas bag he slung over his shoulder.
    “All right,” Gallardo said, feeling a thrill sizzle through his stomach in anticipation of the action and the success he knew was soon going to be his. He tapped the bag, then entered the building’s side entrance.
     
    ______
     
    Feeling as though someone was pulling a fast one on him, Lourds examined the writing more closely, thinking perhaps it had been inscribed recently upon an ancient bell—which would have been foolish under the circumstances because such an act would have destroyed the bell’s huge intrinsic value—to fool him. If it was a forgery, it was a masterpiece. The inscription felt smooth to the touch. In places it was even worn to the point that it was almost faded.
    Yep. If it was a fake, it was a damned good one.
    Operating by instinct, Lourds reached into his backpack, which was beside his chair, and took out a soft graphite pencil and a tablet containing sheets of onionskin tracing paper. Placing a sheet of paper on the bell, he rubbed the pencil against the surface, creating a negative image of the inscription.
    “What are you doing?” Neil asked.
    Lourds ignored the question, consumed by the puzzle that was before him. He took a small digital camera from his backpack and took pictures of the bell from all sides. The camera’s flash, especially when used on smooth ceramic, didn’t always allow the image to pick up shallow markings. That’s why he’d done the rubbings.
    He was engrossed. He didn’t even notice when Leslie approached and stood on the other side of the desk.
    “What’s going on?” Leslie asked.
    “Where did you get this?” Lourds asked, turning the bell in his hands. The clapper
pinged
softly against the side.
    “From a shop.”
    “What shop?”
    “An antiquities shop. His father’s shop.” Leslie nodded toward the tall, sallow man in his forties standing against the wall. The man looked a little worried.
    Lourds pinned the man with his gaze, not wishing to be trifled with. If that’s what this was, of course. He was halfway convinced this wasn’t a joke. It felt far too elaborate. The bell felt real.
    “Where did this come from?” Lourds asked in Arabic.
    “From my father, sir,” the man said politely. “The young lady requested that we put something old in with the other items. To better test you, she said. My father and I told her we could not read what was written on the bell either, so we didn’t know what it said.” He hesitated. “The young woman said this was all right.”
    “Where did your father get this bell?”
    The man shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s been in his shop for years. He tells me that no one seems to be able to tell him what it is.”
    Lourds switched back to English and looked at Leslie. “I want to talk to his father. See the shop where this bell came from.”
    Leslie looked surprised. “All right. I’m sure we can arrange that. What’s wrong?”
    “I can’t read this.” Lourds looked at the bell again, still not believing what he knew to be true.
    “It’s okay,” Leslie told him. “I don’t think anyone’s really going to believe that you can read all those languages. You knew a lot of others. The people who watch our show will still be impressed.
I’m
impressed.”
    Lourds told himself to be patient. Leslie truly didn’t understand the problem.
    “I’m an authority in the languages spoken here,” he told her. “Civilization as we know it began not far from here. The languages used here, living and dead, are as familiar to me as my own hand. Given that, this writing should