The Secret of Atlantis

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Silvio Mendoza felt the rush of power coursing through his veins as he pushed his way through the Vienna rain. It was only a matter of time now before he would lay his hands on the greatest treasure of them all.

With only Aurora Soto and his own deluded thoughts for company, the former Mexican drug cartel lord scuttled along the backstreets of the Austrian capital. He disliked the city. He held no place in his heart for Baroque gardens, Sachertorte and opera houses. Mendoza was an outlaw, a man from the jungle who knew only the harshest realities of life, not this ludicrous fairytale version with Ferris wheels and Lipizzaner horses. What these people knew about the real world you could write on the head of pin.

He moved deftly through a crowd of people who were watching a man eat fire to a bizarre medley of Strauss. He pulled up his collar and cursed the northern hemisphere as the autumn wind came off the Danube and whipped through the cobblestone streets of Leopoldstadt. How anyone could live here was beyond his comprehension. The sooner he got out of here the better, but first he had to track someone down.

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