The Lost Key of Atlantis (TheCorsair and Xana)

[TheCorsair]

Quentin strained beneath her, back and neck stretching as he tried to capture one of Kate’s heaving breast’s with his lips. “My cum?” he gasped out. “You… want me… to… to fill you… with… my cum?” He rolled his hips, meeting her stroke for stroke. “You… want me… to… to empty… my balls… into… you..”

His lips caught one swaying nipple, suckling greedily before her desperate rhythm jerked it away. Staring up, he made sure to meet her eyes before straining at her grip. “Cum on me,” he demanded, or begged. One hand rose a fraction of an inch off the mattress, forcing her to strain to hold him down. “Milk… milk th… the cum… out of… out of… my… my dick…”

Orgasm slammed into him with painful force, making his hips buck as he bridged beneath her, driving himself as deep as he could manage into her slick heat. A throaty roar ripped from his throat as his seed erupted into her, and his hips jerked as he flooded her with his lust. “Fuck…” he managed to breathe out, eyes glazed with pleasure. “Oh, oh fuck…”

 

[Xanaphia]

Sex between them became a playful struggle, with her vying for control and him and him challenging her. She had to fuck him had as he strained against her strength, and every thrust threatened to send her over the edge. Then, in the moment where her control finally slipped, her eyes rolled back and her toes curled .

Her pleasure rolled like waves along her nerves. Through her muscles, gripping his cock with sleek inner walls and gripping his thighs with her own. Her orgasm encouraged his, drinking in his lust, and his ignited her further, her body craving the heat of his release, begging for it. Begging for more. Thick jets of liquid silk joined the sweet tension rippling with in her. The strength of his thrusts lifted her from the bed, delight peaking with her arched back.

Quentin fell heavily back into the back, and Katie follow close behind, just catching her on her hands before crashing into his face. Loose strands of sweat slick hair tumbled down to tickle his face, and Katie could do little more than weakly laugh. Her slit throbbed and clenched around his still hard cock, and clenched again as she claimed his mouth in a kiss. “Fuck… Oh fuck, that was hot.”

Laughing again, she let herself fall off beside him, and groped at muscles moist with perspiration until she was cuddled up beside. “Damn, I could get use to being a trophy wife. Don’t you think it suits me well?”

 

[TheCorsair]

“You’d make a damn fine trophy,” he agreed, gasping for breath and flexing his fingers. His thumb idly stroked the heavy platinum band he kept forgetting he wore on his left hand, sending a brief thrill of pseudo-memory through him. It faded as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her down into his chest. “And I could get really used to it.”

That was uncomfortably close to thoughts he’d toyed with over the last few years. Toyed with, but never uttered. Not now, while he was wildcatting and freelancing for Wild Bill Donovan and MI5. Maybe, just maybe, he’d ask her to come with him when he finally headed back to the States.

Sighing, he kissed her hair. “Maybe we should continue our practice with dinner? And then any last-minute shopping before we board the train for Berlin?” His arms tightened around her shoulders. “We should probably check in with your employer, make sure her forger has everything in order.”

Another sigh. “Although we can probably wait a few more minutes,” he murmured, kissing her hair again. “This… this is nice.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Katie was glad to have her head against Quentin’s chest, because his words drew a hot flush over her cheeks. Sure, she could pass it off as afterglow from the incredible sex, but she knew it went deeper than that. The warmth filling her wasn’t just the heat of his passion. So she bit her lip, holding back the confessions that burst in her heart. The best she could manage when he suggested dinner was wordless hum of approval.

But then he brought up Aurelia, and the fantasies came crashing down. No, Aurelia would not appreciate her abandoning the mission to settle down with Quentin. Sure, it was Aurelia’s idea for her to seduce Quentin, and it was Aurelia’s idea for them to pretend to be married, but only because it suited her plans. Her ambitions.

“We could probably get away with dinner, but Aurelia will be expecting us back soon,” Katie agreed, tracing the dull red marks she’d left on his chest. “Despite the ruse we may be playing, we aren’t actually on vacation.”

“Although we can probably wait a few more minutes,” he murmured, kissing her hair again. “This… this is nice.”

“Nice,” Katie agreed, coming as close to the truth as she dared. She closed her eyes, and let her breathing sync up with his. “Very nice indeed.”

---

What had started as a practical dinner meeting to discuss the plan had ended up with Aurelia and Yusef back in her bed, with only a sheet covering her. The thin satin clung to her sweat-slick curves as she sat up to light a cigarette.

“Think its too late to switch roles here? How much effort could it really take to pass you off as a wealthy oil heir?” Aurelia took a deep hit off her cigarette, and blew out a long stream of smoke. “But… no. I doubt I could convincingly pull off the doting little wife façade.”

The ember on her cigarette glowed bright red as she inhaled again, “Still, pretending to be their servant doesn’t mean I should actually have to pack for them.”

The chest in question was open, with one panel removed, revealing an empty space for a rifle. That rifle remained askew on the table. It had proven far too unwieldy to join them in bed.

“What’s the deal with your American friend, anyways? Katie’s usually far more reliable than this. Is he going to be a problem?”

 

[TheCorsair]

“I don’t think anyone would ever mistake you for a doting wife,” Yusef agreed with a laugh. Then he grunted as he sat up, groping out for the bottle of ouzo he’d left on the nightstand. “The scheming wife of a powerful oil heir, maybe. But…”. He swigged from the bottle, then laughed as he gestured at himself. “Who would believe I was a wealthy man?”

He grunted in agreement at her observation that they didn’t need to pack, then perked up a little at her next question: “What’s the deal with your American friend, anyways? Katie’s usually far more reliable than this. Is he going to be a problem?”

“Al-Mutaful is always a problem,” he laughed. “When I met him, my original plan was to kill him. And, well…”

There was a distinct question in her expression, so he took another swig and settled back. “My men and I were stalking him into the Empty Quarter. Well, not him specifically. He was part of a small British expedition seeking the nameless city of the djinn in the depths of the desert.” He grinned. “The bandits I led were superstitious, but their greed was stronger.”

He sighed, eyes distant with memory. “They found, well, a city. Was it the djinn-haunted city of legend? Who knows? But we swept down on the expedition like the wolf on the fold, and wrought havoc among them. But Al-Mutaful fought like a desert lion, killing four of my men before he was downed by a glancing bullet to the head. I had his wrists bound before he revived, and compelled him to lead us into the city.”

Swigging down more liquor, he offered the bottle to Aurelia. “We were ambushed in that dead city. By ghûls, not men. Al-Mutaful was able to cut his hands free as my men fought the devils, then shot two of the ghûl that bore me down. And while I had intended to kill him after we looted whatever treasures were found in the city, I was more than happy to fight with him against the hordes that pursued us to the ruined walls.”

“After that, well…” he shrugged and swigged more ouzo. “He’d saved my life. I’d saved his. Oh, and all of my men were dead and most of my supplies were lost and we were in the middle of the Empty Quarter. This, and the gun he held to my head, made me realize that we would more likely survive working together. And we were fast friends by the time we emerged from the desert.”

He smirked. “He is brave, resourceful, cunning, and unwilling to leave well enough alone when he gets curious. I suspect you will feel a need to kill him, eventually. Which would be a shame, because then I would have to try and kill you to defend him, and then your people would tr to kill me, and then everything becomes a bit of a mess.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Aurelia took a swig of ouzo as Yusef spoke, recounting his tale of meeting the American interloper. He sounded like he could be a valuable ally or a fierce foe. Perhaps she needed to keep a closer eye on him, herself.

“–And we were fast friends by the time we emerged from the desert.”

“Is that all it takes to win your loyalty?” she teased, caressing his fingers as reclaimed the bottle once more. “Damn, I could have saved myself some money and dragged your ass out into the desert, instead.”

Yusef smirked. “He is brave, resourceful, cunning, and unwilling to leave well enough alone when he gets curious. I suspect you will feel a need to kill him, eventually. Which would be a shame, because then I would have to try and kill you to defend him, and then your people would tr to kill me, and then everything becomes a bit of a mess.”

One more deep inhale finished off her cigarette, and she stubbed it out on the ashtray beside her bed. Then, in a single fluid motion, she turned and climbed atop Yusef again, the sheet slipping from her skin to leave her exposed. Not as exposed as him, however, as she grabbed the hidden knife from behind the headboard, and placed it against his throat.

“So, what you’re saying is that if I am planning on kill him, I need to kill you first?” Her free hand fisted in his hair, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “That would be a pity. I pray it’s not necessary.” Tugging his hair harder, she leaned in close to taste his breath, lips hovering a hair’s breadth above his. Their mingled lust dripped from her cunt and smeared against his abdomen. “Unless there is some other way I can earn your loyalty from him…”

 

[TheCorsair]

“You present a compelling argument,” Yusef declared, flexing his back to grind her slick cunt against his stomach. “Although, be honest here,” his fingers combed through her long ebony hair and dragged down her back, “are you sure you want to earn my loyalty.”

The pads of his fingers ghosted over her spine, sliding on a thin sheen of sweat from their earlier lovemaking. “I know how you are, Aurelia. Imagine yourself, hunting me in the desert. The sun hot on your skin, your nerves afire with the thrill of the hunt.”

One hand caressed the curve of her rump. “A single sound alerts you and you turn, raising your rifle. But I am on you, my blade a burning silver brand in the desert heat! Vengeance, I cry! Vengeance, for al-Mutaful!”

Twisting beneath her, he rolled them so that he rose up over her in the semi-darkness of the cabin. “We tumble in an embrace if death as you drop your rifle and struggle for possesdion of my knife!” One hand slid slowly between her breasts, the nail leaving a white line on the dark skin. “Steel caresses skin as you tear it from my grip and seek my life’s blood.”

His cock, thick and erect now, slid over lips slick with their mutual pleasure and her growing arousal. “And then there is a cry,” he continued, pushing his length into her heated, cum-slick walls. “Steel penetrating flesh! But! Who has sustained the wound?”

His hips moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “But who?” he asked, staring down into her dark eyes. “Who struck the mortal blow?” He drove a little harder, watching her breasts move as he stroked deep into her. “Does it not thrill you, oh Onyx Queen? Entangled in life and death?” His hips jerked, and the bed creaked. “The taste of my life’s blood in your lips, or the feel of my steel buried in your flesh?”

 

[Xanaphia]

“Your steel pierces deep, Yusef,” Aurelia moaned, legs sliding over his thighs as spread herself for him. “It pierces deep, and true.” She ached with his every thrust, and she ached with his retreat as well. Ached for more, ached in anticipation as slow, deep strokes demanded space within her.

“But…” One hard thrust interrupted her thoughts, drawing a sharp gasp from her. “But… is one thrust enough? Enough to end it? Enough to slake my bloodlust? Enough to satisfy your desire for revenge?”

Her body moved with his, against his, their lovemaking an imitation of the hypothetical fight scene. Her nails dug into his shoulders, his back, scraping skin and drawing blood. Her legs tightened around his his thighs, his ass, holding him deep inside her. His hard steel impaled her, claiming her body with every motion. She pulled him down against her, his chest crushing her breasts.

“Every time I’m in your arms, I die a little more,” she breathed, the passion of his momentum coaxing a confession from her lips. “A little death, by a thousand cuts…” Then her legs locked around his hips, and her body seized beneath him, writhing in her death throes of ecstasy.

 

[TheCorsair]

“Then die,” he husked, rocking his hips to bury himself deep in her again. Again and again, claiming her with lips and body and the steel-hard shaft buried in her eager depths. “A thousand times over, as I die with you.”

Her nails raked down his back, a stinging pain accentuating the sweetness of the friction of her body beneath his. He claimed her lips, drinking deep of her moans and savoring the heat of her mouth. Then she gripped him tight, her arms and legs sliding over his sweat-slick body, his aching meat sliding within her lust-slick heat.

It was too much.

Now it was the sounds of his release pouring into her mouth as his tongue pushed between her lips. He thrust deep, the flexible organ imitating the movements of the inflexible shaft straining within her until he collapsed atop her, spent.

Sighing, he kissed her lips - lips bruised from the force of his lust - gently. “You should, I think, wind me in a shroud,” he declared with a smile. “For you have slain me utterly.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Despite herself, Aurelia laughed. A tired, pleased sound, deep and throaty. "Is that so? Sounds like an excuse to stay in my bed." And yet, she didn't want to kick him out, even as memories warned her that she should. "Got an…early morning tomorrow." A wide yawn interrupted her words, utterly too sated by their passion. Utterly too comfortable in his arms to argue. "Might be easier to just… stay…"

As she said it, she was pulling him down beside her. Against her, skin sliding over skin slick with perspiration. She didn't want him to leave, words she wouldn't dare say aloud to him. Words she would dare admit to herself, reasoning that this was just easier. Simpler.

Better.

Aurelia didn't fight herself over it, letting the steady beat of his heart lull her into sleep. She needed her rest, after. Tomorrow morning she'd be on a train into Germany, the diseased heart of fascism in the western world.

---

The next morning, Aurelia was all business, with no patience for Katie and Quentin eyefucking one another. Oh sure, it lent credence to their charade of newly married couple, but it also got underneath every inch of her skin. "Keep you focus on the objective at hand," She instructed to Kate, aside from the men. "We need to get that map, by whatever means necessary."

Kate cocked her head. "You're just irritated you don't get to be in charge of this mission."

"I'm still in charge," Aurellia argued, arms crossed over her chest. "Just not in a way that the public might see."

 

[TheCorsair]

“Keep your bed play in the bedroom,” Quentin deadpanned, making Yusef snort as he tried to swallow his laughter. Then he laid out the timetable. “It’s about fifteen hours to Munich, if we were on an express. But it’ll be slightly over a full day, because our train makes stops.” He grimaced. “The touring train made more sense, given our cover, but it’s slower.”

He then produced four tickets from his breast pocket and laid them on the schedule. “Getting the two of you on the train was… tricky. Generally, a passenger’s servant stays in an adjacent sleeping room. But I couldn’t scandalize the railway by having an unmarried manservant and maidservant share a room. So…” He grinned. “Aurelia gets the sleeping room, and Yusef gets to sleep in a seat in the carriage.” He glanced over them both. “Officially. If you two make other arrangements, just be discreet.”

With that, he tucked everything back into the breast pocket of his dove grey suit. “We’ve got half an hour until we leave.” He gave Aurelia a mischievous grin. “Any other last minute requirements, oh mistress of our mission?”

 

[Xanaphia]

"Aurelia gets the sleeping room, and Yusef gets to sleep in a seat in the carriage." He glanced over them both. "Officially. If you two make other arrangements, just be discreet."
"It won't be an issue," Aurelia asserted, without looking up at Yusef. Because, if she had, she would have caught his gaze and made a liar out of herself.

"We've got half an hour until we leave." He gave Aurelia a mischievous grin. "Any other last minute requirements, oh mistress of our mission?"

Aurelia released a sigh, and shook her head, "No." She was being ridiculous; she knew it and didn't like it. Nor did she like making new plans on the fly, either. Having to trust this Quentin, all because Katie loved fucking him, and Yusef, who only loved money. "No, we got everything we need already."

The performance began once they arrived at the station. Even just exiting the car was a well-choreographed demonstration of their roles. Yusef exited first, to open the door for Quentin. She exited second, to open the trunk and prepare the luggage. Quentin exited next, so that he could open Katie's door and help her out. The trappings of wealth were tedious, for all the cover they provided. Quentin and Katie went on ahead, arm in arm, to mingle in the train's bar and dining car. Leaving her and Yusef to carry in the luggage. With the lighter bags in hand, she lead the way to the assigned sleeping car.

Their side of the car wasn't large by any means –except in comparison to hers. But it was elegant, with glossy wood paneling and shiny brass fixtures. It managed to fit a chaise lounge, a small dining table with a couple of chairs and a comfortable bed. At least it was on the opposite wall from her room, so she wouldn't have to hear them fucking. Hopefully.

Her room consisted of a bed, and little else. Not even a window. She turned, catching sight of Yusef through the open door, as he hefted the suitcase into an overhead compartment. "I don't think we have to worry about the temptation of sharing a bed. Not without a great deal of creativity."

 

[TheCorsair]

“I could manage,” Yusef answered, shoving the valise home with a grunt. “I may not be as clever as al-Mutaful, but it is no shame to say a torch is not as bright as the sun.” He closed the compartment door. “And I doubt any of the Ajnabi on this train would notice anyway.” He grinned. “We are servants, after all. And servants are invisible the world around.”

He made a show of inspecting the tiny room, then shook his head. “But, then again, perhaps you are right. I doubt this room is big enough to hold your pride or my arrogance, let alone both of them together.” Then he laughed. “So, come with me. Let us explore this train and see what the other servants may say. Because servants are invisible the world round, but they all still have ears.”

-*-

Quentin snapped open his valise and quickly transferred a few items into the bedside drawer. Or, rather, what would be the bedside drawer once they pulled the bed down. Just a few necessities. A notepad and pencil. A battery-operated light. A camp knife. A .45 automatic.

It was the little things that made a room feel like home.

“So,” he said to Katie as he closed the drawer. “We want to keep a low profile. Which means, paradoxically, that we’ll have to go mingle.” He tucked the valise into the small closet, and turned to look at his wife partner in crime. “Wealthy newlyweds on a grand tour of Europe are out to be seen, after all.”

 

[Xanaphia]

"It's been awhile since I had to mingle in high society," Katie murmured, leaning in close to Quentin. Mostly because it was a tight squeeze, moving through the train arm in arm. And they were newlyweds, so it was only natural that they would want to be close. "My father is a member of the House of Lords. Don't try to guess which, I don't use his last name. The only reason he sent me to university was to get my MRS degree." She looked sidelong at Quentin with a mischievous smirk, "I'm sure you can picture his ire when I came back with a doctorate instead."

"Now you would have positively scandalized my father." Katie simpered, imagining his reaction herself. "Not nearly a member our peerage– that would have been bad enough, but an American to boot? Why he'd disinherit me again." Another laugh, and she squeezed his arm, just a bit. "Probably simpler to just say my parents passed some time ago."

---

Aurelia allowed herself a laugh at Yusef's comments, and tried not to notice the heat of his nearness, as he loomed in close to look at her room. "Well, the size of your arrogance can be a bit much to take," Aurelia started, putting away her meager things. She had to brush against Yusef to leave the room, and pitched her voice to him as she did, "But I've often enjoyed the challenge of accommodating it."

Then he laughed. "So, come with me. Let us explore this train and see what the other servants may say. Because servants are invisible the world round, but they all still have ears."

"Servants, right." Time to get into character. She considered Quentin, and how their roles fit together, as the Americans of the group. He didn't have much of a regional accent, and least not one that stood out distinctly. Vaguely, slightly southern would work best for her. Not that many people would be talking to her anyways. Playing the help was humiliating enough, but Yusef was right, it was nearly invisible. Which would be quite useful, if she could pull it off. And that meant toning down her pride. Make it small enough to fit in her closet of a room.

 

[TheCorsair]

Büren, Westphalia
“Well,” Quentin observed, staring up at the castle. “That is picturesque, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so, yes,” Yusef grunted, noncommittally. “And this is the headquarters of the Kraut dogs we are here to kill?”

Quentin massaged the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. “For all essential purposes, yes. But we’re not here to kill anyone. We’re here to get the cypher back.” He sighed again. “And we’re in public. Try to be discrete.”

The train had made good speed, and nothing of consequence had happened. Nobody had questioned the cover story they’d cooked up. Hell, the only reason they’d even been glanced at when they changed trains in Augsburg had been mild curiousity about Yusef and Aurelia, and their status as ‘servants’ made that a cursory glance at best. And now, here they were. In a quaint little hotel in Büren with a view of the SS-Schule Haus Wewelsburg.

“And now,” Quentin declared, walking back into the suite they’d rented, “we wait to see if Herr Wurthe will get nvite us up, so we can get the lay of the land.”

“And if he does not?” Yusef countered.

“We break in, and look around anyway.”

 

[Xanaphia]

"I've gotten you both an invite to a banquet, where many prominent Germany history scholars will be present, in including our target, Herman Wirth." Aurelia explained, in the privacy of their hotel room. Kate nodded along, carefully, as she applied her make up. "You'll need to seduce Herr Wirth, so that he will invite you back."

"Seduce?" Katie blinked twice. "Isn't that risky? Since our cover is that I am on a honeymoon with my new husband?"

Aurelia rolled her eyes, "Yes, because no one in Germany's ever heard of an unsatisfied trophy wife before."

"Still, does it have to be me?" Pulling her hair over one shoulder, Kate waited for Aurelia to zip up her dress. "Couldn't you seduce him?"

"For one, servants don't get invited to these sorts of stuffy formal engagements. Besides, even if I could get in, I'm not his type."

"And you're sure I am?"

"If you're not, we would have better with your husband than me, in any case."

"I just… I'm not sure…" Katie muttered, finding herself out of excuses.

"Just, keep your eyes on the target," Aurelia instructed, keeping her voice low. Lower still, as she watched the door for their compatriots. "You know what will happen if the Germans find that tomb. You know what they'll do with that power."

"Right." She nodded, and swallowed hard. Clearly she'd gotten too caught up in the fantasy of playing Quentin's wife, she'd lost sight of the very real threat they were trying to mitigate. This was a lot bigger than her, and silly daydreams.

The sound of the door opening made her flinch, but Katie relaxed into smile as she saw Quentin entering with Yusef. Stepping into her shoes, she offered her arm, "Are we ready to go?"

 

[TheCorsair]

Quentin drove the two of them up the narrow mountain road, carefully negotiating switchbacks originally intended for horse-drawn carts. The road was paved, or at least cobbled, so they didn’t have to worry about ruts. But the car still bounced and jostled over the stones. “The more I think about it,” he said, casting a weather eye up the slope towards the castle, “the more convinced I am that we’ll need to do some property damage once we recover the map.”

He grinned as he caught Katie’s eye. “If they’re smart, and we have to assume they are, then they’ll have made copies. Photographic and hand-drawn, so they don’t have to keep referring to the original. Once we get our hands on the map, we’ll need to destroy as many of them as possible. Otherwise our little trip will have been pointless.”

He craned his head, tying to see around the next switchback. “Do you know if your boss packed any thermite in her chest of tricks? Once we know where the map is, it could take out the whole room.”

Creating the top of the slope, Quentin let the car roll to a stop before a pragmatic cement guard house. Two curious but not excessively keen blonde men peered out, then one emerged. “Dein name, bitte?”

“Mein name ist Charles Mesler,” he replied, then waved at Katie. “Und das ist meine Frau, Lydia.”

The guard glanced at his fake passport, nodded, and handed it back. “Danke. You are expected,” he informed them in strongly accented English. “Please drive in. A man will direct you, and take your car.”

 

[Xanaphia]

"You want to blow up a chunk of the castle?" Katie asked with an incredulous laugh. "That hardly seems like a smart move, as far as getting in and out without a commotion is concerned. If something blows up, they are going to investigate. And I don't want to test how our documents will hold up under scrutiny." She was quiet for a few minutes, while Quentin spoke to the guards. Once they were out of earshot, she resumed her thought.

"Seems to me fire would be best. Easier to make look like an accident, after all, but would be just as effective in destroying their copies. Not to mention any other intel it would be convenient for them to lose."

Anymore planning would have to wait, while a servant took their car, and Quentin escorted her inside. Within was an exhibition of Herman Wirth's works and various anthropological "proof" of Aryan ancestry for the German people. As tempting as it was to stay on Quentin's arm and scoff at the ridiculous notions presented here, she had a role to play. And it wasn't the adoring, devoted wife. So she steered them both towards Herman Wirth, an older professor with a prominent mustache.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Herr Doktor," she gushed, taking in hand in both of hers. "I have been just fascinated by your translation of the Ora Linda Chronicle." It was hard not to snicker at the mention of the work, an obvious forgery that served only to further Nazi propaganda, but a true believer would be the best mask to wear in order to get close to man.

The older man didn't hide the way his eyes traced her curves before falling upon her face. "I don't believe we've been introduced?"

"Lydia Mesler, and my husband, Charles Mesler, heir to the Atlatnic Triangle Shipping company," she explained, aware of the doctor's money troubles. It was, after all the purpose of this very evening, to encourage the patronage of wealthy Germans and other sympathetic parties towards his research.

"Ah," he acknowledged, shaking hands with Quentin now. "It's a pleasure to share the glory of the Aryan race with the world."

"I've told my husband all about your work, including your theories of Atlantis, and the origins of the Aryan race," she explained, taking advantage of proximity to squeeze Herman's arm "Of course, I'm sure it will be much more convincing coming from your mouth, Herr Doktor."

 

[TheCorsair]

“I will do my humble best, Frau Mesler,” Doctor Wirth replied, preening just a little under her attention. After a moment, he tore his attention from Kate’s face and focused on Quentin. “You are, I presume, familiar with the traditions of Atlantis?”

“In passing,” Quentin shrugged, glancing around the museum. “My tutor made me translate Plato’s Dialogs when I was learning Greek. An island somewhere in the Atlantic that ruled the whole world except for Athens, right? Until it sank.”

“Oh, my friend,” Wirth chuckled, “Plato only scratched the surface of the history of Atlantis, but we shall not blame him for not knowing what he could not have known. It has taken many decades of research, using the most modern of methods, to uncover what we know now - and even that is but the veriest tip of the great secrets of antiquity.”

Nodding absently, Quentin examined a collection of Egyptian and Inca artifacts displayed side by side in a case. “And what is that?” he asked. “Lydia tried to explain your theories, but I’m not sure I followed them.”

“Well,” Wirth began, puffing up just a little. “Atlantis was key to the rise of Aryan civilization. Some 100,000 years ago, with the dawning of the Fifth Epoch, the Aryan root-race began to displace the Toltec rulers of Atlantis with their own higher type.”

“Blavatsky?” Quentin asked.’

“Yes,” Wirth agreed. “Although her invaluable work was systematized through the anthroposophical teachings of Rudolph Steiner.” He checked his watch. “But, please. Where are my manners? It is time to dine, and we may discuss these matters over a delightful wine and with other scholars of the Society.”

 

[Xanaphia]

Katie tried not to flinch as Wirth's hand caressed the small of her back, and urged her along. It just meant her plan was working. One step closer to getting the map, to securing this powerful artifact from fascist control. This particular bit of subterfuge granted them a seat at Wirth's table, and she knew she had to capitalize on his attention.

"Once the Aryan race secured leadership on Altantis, with their culture and knowledge begin to flourish. We can actually trace various linguistic, technological and religious advancements in ancient civilizations to Atlantis." Turning, she favored Wirth with a smile and batted eyelashes, "Isn't that right, Doktor?"

"Indeed. Your wife is a clever student of history," Wirth asserted, passing her a glass of wine off a nearby serving tray. "You see, the Atlantisans believed they had a duty to civilize the rest of the world, and we proud Aryans have taken up that mission in modern times as well."

Katie managed to hide her disgust in a drink of wine, reminding herself of the greater good her performance held. "And that's why we are here tonight, Doktor. We want to use our vast resources to help spread Aryan Civilization across the globe." Her fingers trailed over his hand and up his arm, hoping to convince him of her intentions. The leering grin that crooked his lips served as a nauseating signal of her success.

"As it so happens, we do have a special expedition we are looking for benefactors to support," Wirth offered, leaning in conspiratorially. This close, the wine on his breath tickled her nose. A deep inhale held back her revulsion as she nodded silently. "We have recently acquired a map that should prove once and for all the direct lineage of the Aryan race, tying it directly to the glory of Atlantis."

"A map? Oh, can you believe it darling, we could play a grand role in the historical discovery of a lifetime!" Remembering her evening spent in Quentin's arms, Katie braced herself for the next step in her role, sliding one hand under the table to caress Wirth's thigh. "Is there any way we could examine such piece in person?"