“Not just the riches; also the knowledge,” Matt said, walking slowly down the steps and then in among artifacts. There were shelves and shelves piled high with scrolls. He groaned. “Just for a day down here, just one day. I wish Dr Albadi could have seen this.”

He moved his light around the room. Golden caskets with depictions of rays of light causing armies to fall; ornate oil lamps with warnings of djinn; a huge age-tarnished bronze urn, a dozen feet across, inscribed with the image of a hideous face screaming in fury, and covered in coiling rope or serpents; there were statues of monstrous Cyclops; and so much more.

Matt turned, feeling exhilarated and near overwhelmed. “The caretakers, I don’t think they were locked in. I think they stayed on purpose – they valued knowledge over life.”

“Move it!” Adira’s screamed words reverberated around the large room, echoing the chastisement back at them, over and over.

Their hunt sped up – caskets of golden objects were ignored, silver weapons, some studded with brilliant stones, or intricate machines were all now knocked aside. Matt found a long table stacked with scrolls that fell to pieces in his hands, but from the dry scraps of Egyptian and Greek he read, he knew they were not what he sought.

Tania smoothed out a large sheet of some sort of hide that was beautifully decorated with a map. “You’re not going to believe what this is – it’s a map of Aztlan – That’s the ancient name for Atlantis. You’re not going to believe where it is…”

“Forget it.” Matt snorted. “Seen it.”

“Here!” Abrams called from the far end of the chamber.

Matt sprinted, leaping over chests and skirting marble statues. The major shone his light on a small coffin-shaped box that was so dark and polished it looked like black glass. He had pushed the lid aside, and now stood back.

Matt came over and peered in – inside there was another box, this one gold, and on its lid the same sort of strange glyphs he had seen in the sink holes. He reached in and gently lifted the lid. Immediately he felt a wave of nauseating dizziness, as if some sort of radiation had been released from the confines of the receptacle.

There was a single item – a book – it was about a foot in length, and just less than that in width. The cover was of some sort of soft-looking leather, heavily tooled, the image of an inhuman face set into a boiling mass of coiling tentacles in the center. The craftsman had used large polished rubies for the eyes; this managed to imbue it with a lifelike quality that was both beautiful and unsettling.

“I think this is it,” Matt said weakly.

“Grab it, bag it, and let’s go.” Adira’s voice was urgent.

Matt shut her out, and reached in slowly, his hands shaking. Beside him, he heard Abrams shake out a plastic bag and hold it open. Matt’s fingers flexed, but it felt as he were holding a strong magnet, and approaching another of an opposing pole. His fingers tingled as they hung over the odd leather.