Dateline: Atlantis Read Online Free Page A

Garret dives in next to her, a sleek otter in the aquamarine. She loses sight of him within seconds. Without warning, the water rises up like a sheet of glass, fifty feet behind them. A trembling sound precedes a roar, and the water is everywhere, rushing at them from every angle. Amaryllis swims for the beach, already drained from her morning’s strenuous dives. She grabs at the sandy rock and pulls herself onto a small hillock, then runs for higher ground. She turns back to peer into the torrent, but can’t catch sight of her companions.
    #
    â€œThe water diversion project was bombed, did you know that?” A cop is speaking. A wiry Mexican detective in a dirty gray trench coat. A guy who speaks perfect English. In fact, he sounds as if he hails from Chicago.
    â€œNo, I didn’t know that.”
    â€œThat’s why the water began to rise so fast.”
    â€œIt was too early for the tide.”
    The man is sitting on a steel chair—the kind you can stack to the ceiling—next to her little cot. He keeps reaching into his coat pocket, fingering something. Probably trying to quit smoking.
    Amaryllis coughs, aware that she is supposed to be offering information, but she can think of nothing to say.
    â€œMiss…uh, Quigley. Miss Amaryllis Quigley,” The Mexican accent peeks out when he pronounces her first name. “Unusual name. It is a flower that blooms in mid-winter.” She nods. “You are on assignment for the Los Angeles Star , accompanied by free-lance photographer Garret Lucas.” She nods again. “What have you found?”
    â€œRuins.”
    He leans back in the chair, with a tight smile. The expression reminds her of Gabriel’s intractable visage. A sudden, unseen wind sweeps across the tiny hairs on her arm, and she realizes the ruins are gone. She looks into the policeman’s eyes, asking an unvoiced question. He nods.
    â€œThey destroyed the levee and all the breakwaters, the water rushed back. The water is higher than it ever was now.”
    â€œWho bombed it? Where am I?”
    â€œRevolutionaries.” He nods, moving on to her second question. “The hospital. You see, the water project was controversial. An ecological disaster, the separatists said. Your ruins were innocent bystanders.”
    He leans forward and tilts his head. She sees a hearing aid in one ear.
    â€œMiss Quigley. Mr. Santangelo was trying to swim out to sea…before Mr. Lucas dragged him ashore and the patrol boat picked you up. May I ask why?”
    She thinks of lying. She thinks of bolting out the door, ripping the tubes out of her arm and racing down the corridors in her little, incomplete nightgown. She considers feinting a sudden loss of consciousness.
    â€œHe wanted an artifact. We thought he was crazy.”
    â€œHe was, to do that. He nearly drowned. But he will recover. Right now, he’s in no shape to talk to us.”
    The cop stands. He keeps fidgeting with an object in his pocket. Amaryllis lies back on the cot, waiting for him to accuse her of confiscating rare Mexican treasures. Maybe she’s liable for not stopping Gabriel’s mad rush for the sea. Maybe she’s only under suspicion for being a snoopy American. She considers how long it takes to get bailed out of a Mexican prison. The man smirks.
    â€œMr. Lucas gave me this and said it was yours.” He pulls the crystal, radiating like a solar flare, from his pocket, handling it as if it were a kid’s marble. She is afraid to breathe. Does he know where it came from? He flips it to her, where it lands, nestled next to her waist.
    The cop stands. “Of course, when he regains consciousness, Mr. Santangelo might have a different story. If I were you, I’d get out of Mexico as soon as possible.”
    #
    Garret and Amaryllis can’t afford first class, but they splurge. The bag of film can’t be checked, can’t fit under the seat, can’t be entrusted to