Once he was clear, though, he knew his next step. He had to get back to the United States.
And deal with Victor Dalton.
ELEVEN
Rome
Returning to New York via Italy hadn’t been Nina’s plan, but she had been left with more than enough time while waiting to deal with the Japanese authorities to think about the full implications of the events in the Takashi building.
Foremost on her mind was her husband. Three months without even an attempt to communicate, then he appeared out of the blue? She didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or furious—though his accusing her of being in league with Stikes tipped her feelings a little toward the latter.
Stikes’s presence was itself a concern. She was sure Takashi had lied about the mercenary’s being a mere delivery boy; he was involved with whatever was going on. As for what that might be, though …
Could she believe Takashi’s claims about the goals of his mysterious organization? That Stikes was connected to it at all made her doubt its true commitment to ending global conflict, for a start—as a gun for hire, his livelihood depended on that. But someone else was opposed enough to take action to stop him. Drastic action. The helicopter attack had been intended to kill her, Takashi, and Stikes alike.
And Eddie. Somebody wanted him dead too. But why? What was the connection?
The statues were the key, she was sure.
Takashi had known what to expect when the figures were brought together. But nothing Nina knew of suggested even remotely that the statues could use the planet’s own energy fields to counter the force of gravity—to say nothing of her extraordinary mental experience.
Which meant that someone, somewhere, had information that outstripped even the IHA’s discoveries. She only knew one group that might fit the bill. And that was why she had come to Rome.
“Dr. Wilde,” said Nicholas Popadopoulos, turning her name over in his mouth like a piece of slightly unpleasant food. She had dealt with the stooped old man before. The Brotherhood of Selasphoros possessed an enormous trove of ancient texts concerning Atlantis; the organization’s purpose had been to suppress knowledge of the lost civilization.
It had done so by trying to kill anyone who got too close to the truth, which was why Popadopoulos’s antipathy was more than matched by Nina’s. She had been targeted, as had her parents. She had survived. They had not. The thought still caused a knot of anger to tighten within her.
She tried to suppress it. Her life might now depend on something in the Brotherhood’s archives. “Mr. Popadopoulos,” she replied, voice studiedly neutral. “Good to see you again.”
“And you,” he said, less than convincingly. “This visit is unexpected, though. We have cooperated fully with the IHA in providing anything it requested, so why you felt the need to come here in person …”
“Your definition of full cooperation isn’t quite the same as ours,” Nina said with a thin smile.
“We are doing everything asked of us!” Popadopoulos’s resentment was clear in every word. “We are the only people who know everything in the archives. It would take outsiders years just to understand how it is cataloged. Perhaps you think you can do it without us?”
Her smile turned colder. “I dunno, maybe we should try. You could have a nice long vacation … paid for by the state. What do you think?”
He glowered at her through his little round spectacles. What was left of the Brotherhood after the battles leading to Atlantis’s discovery had been forced to open its records under threat of being held to account for the organization’s past crimes. “I will see if things can be done more … expediently,” he conceded.
“Thank you. Although that isn’t actually why I decided to pop in.”
“What? Then why are you here? Just to bully and harass us?”
“No, I want some information. Expediently.”
The old man was annoyed at having his words turned back at him. “What information?”
“I want to know if you have anything in the archives about Nantalas.”
“The priestess?”
Nina arched an eyebrow. “Then I guess you do have something.”
“She was an important figure prior to the sinking of Atlantis.” He leaned thoughtfully back in his seat. “She claimed to have visions, I remember. Of war, usually, but that was the major occupation of the Atlanteans. She also claimed to have magic powers.”
“These powers—they wouldn’t have been connected to three statues, by any chance?”
Popadopoulos sat back up, surprised. “Yes. How did you know?”