The Tribes of Atlantis (Inspectre adventure #4)

            “But not perfect,” said the Inspectre. “As I recall, the inhabitants of Atlantis began to lust for wealth and power, and corruption filled the land. After many years the citizens had become so violent and sinful that they stirred the wrath of Poseidon, the sea god, who cursed Atlantis and caused the sea to swallow the island whole. To this day, no one has been able to find any trace of that lost culture, and thus there is no real evidence of its existence.”

            “Exactly the point, Inspectre,” I replied. “We can’t bother chasing a rumor, can we?”

            “I have been chasing rumors since before you were born, Baker, and let me tell you, I have not been disappointed thus far. In any case, I cannot resist an opportunity to see the kingdom of Atlantis firsthand, even if our efforts do leave us empty-handed. I say our first order of business would be to pinpoint the exact location where Atlantis will rise. Since there is no mention of it in the paper, I would think our best bet would be to locate the epicenter of these recent quakes. I have had instruments in my lab monitoring the tremors since they began. We must start there. To the laboratory, gentlemen!”

            We spent the rest of the afternoon in the Inspectre’s underground facility, poring over the earthquake data he had gathered and pinpointing the quakes’ locations on a large map of the British Isles. Needless to say, we were not disappointed by our results. The Inspectre would look at the date each anomaly occurred, I would read off its location and magnitude, and Slosh would draw a circle on the map where we indicated. We had been working at this for two hours when the Inspectre leapt up from his chair, startling Slosh and me.

            “By Jove! Look at the pattern we’ve created!”

            We looked at the map. The Inspectre had been reading the dates backwards to me, starting with the most recent and moving forward towards the first recorded incident. Each time Slosh had drawn a circle on the map, the earthquake’s location had moved farther off the coast, like a shockwave. Which, when the first recorded event had occurred, put the epicenter…

            “Right here,” the Inspectre exclaimed, pointing to the center circle on the map. “In the North Sea, one hundred and fifty miles off the coast of Scarborough!”

            “But wasn’t Atlantis supposed to be in the Mediterranean?” I asked.

            “That’s just one theory. Some legends have placed it in the Atlantic Ocean, which bears the lost island’s name, others in the Mediterranean. But as of today, no evidence has been discovered as to its true location, which means it could have been anywhere. Besides, it’s not entirely impossible that an interdimensional cross-rip occurred when Atlantis sank, and that it has been existing in another universe all this time.”

            “I never understand you when you talk that way,” Slosh muttered.

            “Well, that’s just an unlikely theory of mine,” the Inspectre replied. “It’s far more likely to have been under the North Sea all along. In any case, now that we are convinced of its location, let us go and investigate the floor of the North Sea, shall we?”

            “And how are we to do that?” I asked.

            “Surely the two of you know from your recent snooping about in my lab that I have a coal-powered tugboat named Spectre Gamma ready and waiting for just such occasions as this. Like Spectre Alpha, it too is equipped with lights and sirens, as well as numerous other pieces of spook-hunting equipment. I think it will do nicely for this case. Call the chief at Scotland Yard and tell him that we are taking a leave of absence from London to investigate a supernatural disturbance near Scarborough and will be back shortly.”