Hello my lovely readers, Saphira coming to you with a brand new chapter. I am terribly sorry it has taken me so long to update this story. I am just now getting back into the fandom. With that, enjoy!
Chapter 3
After the woman, Helga, had said the name of her employer, neither Milo nor Mila did not really recognized the name but figured it was someone important and after inquiring about who he was. Ms. Sinclair had just smirked and said it would be better for both of them to meet him rather than to have her describe him. They agreed if only to fulfill their own curiosity. After Milo locked his apartment and making sure no one could come in, he still had no idea how she was able to enter, they all climbed into a car and were instantly off to the edge of the city where many of Washington D.C.'s wealthiest citizens lived.
Throughout the whole ride, Ms. Sinclair did not say a word, instead choosing to glance at Milo while driving with those unnerving hazel eyes and taunting smirk. It was almost as if she could read their thoughts. Soon though the car started to decrease in speed and when Milo and Mila looked out the window they saw the car heading for a large estate that was closed off with a high wall and a large black gate that seemed to hold the insignia of a 'W' in cursive at the very top.
As they passed the foreboding gate, Mila could see the silver plaque with the name Whitmore inscribed on it. Seeing this just added more reality to the crazy situation that she and her brother were in.'Who is this guy? Why send this woman to offer us a proposition?' She thought, glancing at Ms. Sinclair.They drove up the stone driveway, which was lined with stone griffins, and soon they were upon a large manor home that appeared to rest on many acres of land. As they exited the car, Milo couldn't help but look up at the majestic building, yet as he tried to study more of it, he was disrupted by Ms. Sinclair telling him and Mila to come inside before they got completely drenched. Too late for that, he thought, but he and Mila hurried inside none the less.
Once they entered the front parlor, both Milo and Mila can see that this Mr. Whitmore was very wealthy. He had many artifacts and painting lining his walls that Milo believed to have only reside within museums. As they looked around in amazement, Ms. Sinclair was removing her coat and passing it on to the butler that was waiting by the door. She turned around to look at Milo and Mila and smirked at their amazement.
"This way, please, Mr. and Ms. Thatch. And make sure not to drip on the Caravaggio. It's such a pain to clean. Hurry it up, Mr. Whitmore does not like to be kept waiting." She told them, already strutting down a strip of carpet heading for an elevator at the end of the massive parlor. Both Milo and Mila rushed to keep up, quickly shedding their coats and passing it on to the butler, yet when Milo heard her say Caravaggio, he stumbled. 'He has an original Caravaggio? Who the heck am I dealing with?' He thought as he and Mila rushed to keep up with Ms. Sinclair strides. Milo and Mila both entered the silver gilded elevator, and as soon as it started to drop, Ms. Sinclair suddenly started to straighten Milo's clothes and hair while Mila's was still presentable, save for the muddy stain on her dress thanks to Mr. Hardcore.
"You both will address him as Mr. Whitmore or Sir. You both will remain standing unless asked to be seated. Keep your sentences short and to the point. Are we clear?" She asked, punctuating each sentence with a jerk of Milo's shirt or bow tie. Before either Milo or Mila could answer, the elevator suddenly stopped, and Ms. Sinclair pushed them both out. As they looked around the room and back at Ms. Sinclair they saw her close the elevator doors with a smirk. Before hitting the button that would take her back up, she said, "And relax. He doesn't bite…often." She left with a disturbing smirk on her face, leaving Milo and Mila with chills.
"That's such a disturbing woman…" Mila murmured to Milo, staring at the empty elevator shaft for a moment before facing the rest of the room. This room was also filled with rare artifacts and paintings as well as some portraits. Milo and Mila moved further into the room, unable to believe all of the artifacts that were within this room, but the biggest surprise was on the portrait that hung above the fireplace. It was a portrait of two elderly men, one had on a well tailor suit and he was shaking hands with the other man who appeared to be in an exploration uniform complete with a helmet atop of white hair and a kind elderly face and his eyes were the same gentle blue eyes that Milo and Mila use to always see when their father was still alive.
"Grandfather?" They both whispered in unison, unable to believe that they were seeing a portrait of their grandfather in some mysterious rich man's home."Finest explorer I ever met." A voice said, causing both Milo and Mila to jump and turn to a corner of the room where a silhouette of a figure could be seen. They moved closer to the figure wary of who it might be and once they got closer they saw the man that was in the portrait with his grandfather doing some painful looking yoga positions while wearing a powder blue robe. He opened his eyes, which were a deep green color, and said,
"Preston B. Whitmore. Pleasure to meet you both." He offered his foot for a handshake and used the other to crack his neck. Mila refused to take it, so Milo gingerly shook his foot before discreetly rubbing his hand on his shirt, wincing as Mr. Whitmore cracked his neck. He and Mila couldn't believe that such an elderly looking man was able to do that pose, which was already difficult for someone of a young age."Join me in a little yoga?" He asked as he tried to crack his back.
"Uh, no, no. Thank you. If you don't mind me asking, did you really know our grandfather?" Milo answered, wincing a bit as Mr. Whitmore transitioned onto his chest and lifted his bare feet onto his head.
"Oh, yeah. Met old Thaddeus back in Oz when I was traveling around. We ended up in the same college, Georgetown, class of '66. We ended up with close friends. At least until the end of his days." As he was talking, he continued to do different poses that just made Milo and Mila feel queasy. "Even dragged me along on some of his foolish expeditions. Thaddeus was as crazy as a bat. He was. Though he did speak of you both often." He explained finally at an upright position.
"Really? Funny. He, uh, he never mentioned you." Milo replied a bit sheepish and with a bit of pride since his role model spoke about him and his sister.
"Oh he wouldn't." He said, turning onto his head, which caused the robe that he was wearing to flip down, exposing his private area, which proved that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. "He knew how much I liked my privacy. I keep a low profile, always have and probably always will."
Both Milo and Mila turned around quickly, not wanting to look at the old man's privates. Mila had to stop herself from throwing up on Mr. Whitmore's carpet after that. "Mr. Whitmore, should we be wondering why we're here? Why did you send that disturbing woman to break into my brother's apartment? Why did she say she had an offer from you? Why did our grandfather know you and why did he work with you?" Mila asked, already getting a little frustrated with the lack of answers.
"Look on that table. It's for Milo." He answered with a gleam in his eye as he pointed at an end table a few feet away. They both looked at him and stood up, walking to the table with only a hint of hesitation. As they neared the table, Milo saw a package wrapped in brown paper and twine. It appeared to be the size of a small book. Yet as he got closer, he could see that on the paper, a message was written in ink.
For Milo with love Thaddeus Thatch.
Milo and Mila drew in a sharp breath. Grandfather…
"It's-It's from our grandfather. How?" Milo asked, gripping the package in his hand, confused as to why this man had something that their grandfather had left him.
"He brought that package to me years ago. He said if anything happened to him, I should give it to you when you were ready - whatever that means, he was always cryptic about things, especially when it involved his work." Mr. Whitmore answered, standing and doing a few more poses, all the while having a strange gleam in his eye.
Milo and Mila still had their backs to him, completely tense, as Milo pondered what could be within the paper and why their grandfather felt the need to leave this package with Mr. Whitmore or why he had to wait until he was ready? Milo raised a hand to rip the paper off, but he hesitated. Did he really want to know what was in here? Was he ready? Mila looked at him and placed her hand on his shoulder, and gave it a comforting squeeze.
He let out a slow breath and knew that he was ready to know what their grandfather had left him. He opened the package, and what was revealed caused both Milo and Mils to gasp. It was a dark brown book with gray and gold piping and a spine that was similar to a scroll. On the cover was a symbol, but more importantly, it was an Atlantean symbol. The Shepherd's Journal.
"It-i-it can't be." Mila stated as she looked down in shock at the book Milo was holding.
"It's The Shepherd's Journal. Mr. Whitmore, this journal is the key to finding Atlantis!" Milo cried, turning to Mr. Whitmore, who was taking a drink. Mr. Whitmore looked at them and burst out laughing.
"Atlantis! Ha ha ha! I wasn't born yesterday, kids." He exclaimed, moving behind a changing screen.
"No, no, no. Loo- look at this. Coordinates. Clues. It's all right here!" Milo cried, opening the book and absorbing the very thing that he has been searching for.
"Yeah…Looks like nonsense and gibberish to me." Mr. Whitmore said poking his head out from behind the screen and smiling at both Milo and Mila.
"That's because it's written in a dialect that no longer exists." Mila stated still in disbelief over what her brother held in his hands.
"So it's basically useless. Nice gift." Mr. Whitmore said, raising an eyebrow before going back behind the screen.
"No, of course not! It's just difficult. At least for someone who hasn't spent their whole life studying dead languages. To me it's not gibberish." Milo stated as he and Mila both began to study the book, already deciphering what the book had to tell. Mr. Whitmore moved from behind the screen dressed in a fine white suit and gold tie with a simple brown wooded cane.
"Ah, it's probably a fake."
"Mr. Whitmore, our grandfather was a man at the top of his field. He would have known if this was fake. Milo would know. I would even know. We are both willing to stake everything we both owe, everything that we believe in that this is the genuine Shepherd's Journal!" Mila exclaimed, knowing that deep within her soul that this was the real journal and would help her brother find the lost empire of Atlantis. Mr. Whitmore turned to them and gave them a look. But before either Milo or Mila could decipher what that look meant, Mr. Whitmore was speaking again.
"Alright, alright. So what do you want to do with it?" He asked, going to sit at a long table in front of a large aquarium. Milo and Mila both rushed to follow him.
"Well, I- I'l—I'll get funding. I mean, I'll—the museum—" Milo answered.
"They'll never believe you."
"I'll show them! I will make them believe me!"
"Like you did today?"
"Yes! Well, no. Wait, how did you…Never mind. Look, forget about them, ok? I don't need them, I will find Atlantis on my own. Even if I have to rent a rowboat to go across the Atlantic, I will find it! No matter what." Milo cried, breathing heavily, fully ready to go through with what he had said. He stared at Mr. Whitmore was waiting for him to call him crazy but instead, he just put his fingertips together and smirked.
"Congratulations Milo. That is exactly what I wanted to hear. But you won't be needing the rowboat kid. We are going to travel in style." Mr. Whitmore stated, seeming to enjoy both Milo and Mila's bewildered expressions. Before they could react, Mr. Whitmore pressed a button that was on the table, which activated a hidden platform within the table. A panel on top of the table slid open, allowing the activated platform to rise up onto the table, displaying small miniatures of several vehicles, a balloon, and a massive ship. Milo and Mila both stared at the figures, unsure what to think, but were fascinated by the figures as they knelt down to examine the miniatures. As they did, Mr. Whitmore went back to talking, ignoring what Milo and Mila were doing.
"It's all been arranged, the whole thing."
"Why?" Mila asked, standing still in disbelief and a bit suspicious over what had happened.
"For years, your grandpa bombed my ears with stories about that old book. I didn't believe him for a second. So after getting fed up with all his rambling, I made a bet with the old man. I said 'Thaddeus, if you actually ever find that damn journal, not only will I finance the whole expedition, I'll kiss you full on the mouth.' I figured he'll never find it, so I would never have to fulfill that bet." Mr. Whitmore passed Milo a photograph which showed Mr. Whitmore and their grandfather spitting on the side and wiping their mouths while their grandfather held a book, specifically the Journal that Milo was now holding.
Milo, Mila, and Mr. Whitmore both began laughing as they stared at the photograph. "Imagine my embarrassment when he found the damn thing. Now I know your grandfather's gone, Milo, Mila, God rest his soul but Preston B. Whitmore is a man who keeps his word. You hear that, Thatch? I'm going to the afterlife with a clear conscience!" He declared, pointing his cane at the portrait of himself and his grandfather. He chuckled and put his cane down and stared at the fire, seeming to get lost in its glare as he thought back into his memories. Milo and Mila looked at him and could see that he truly did care about their grandfather, and perhaps they could trust this man.
"Your grandfather was a great man. You both probably don't even realize how great. Those idiots at the museum dragged him and his career down and made a laughing stock out of him. He died a broken man. I figured that if I could bring back just one shred of proof, just one shred of proof! That'd be enough for me. Ah, Thaddeus." Mr. Whitmore said, putting his head down, but just as suddenly as he had gone morose, he leaped up in excitement.
"What are we doing standing around for? We've got work to do."
"But Mr. Whitmore, you know that in order to do what you're proposing, you're going to need a crew." Milo said as he and Mila were dragged back to the table by Mr. Whitmore, who was quite strong for someone half his height.
"Taken care of."
"But you'll need engineers, and-and geologists and-"Mila started but was soon interrupted by Mr. Whitmore, who spread out some files.
"Got 'em all. The best of the best in their fields. Gaetan 'Mole' Moliére , Geology and Excavation. He has a nose for dirt. Vincenzo 'Vinny' Santorini, Demolitions. Had to get him out of a Turkish prison. Audrey Rocio Ramirez, engineer. Don't let her age fool you. She knows more about engines than you or I will ever know. Almost all of them are from the original crew that brought the journal back." Milo and Mila glanced at the papers, surprised by how quickly Mr. Whitmore was able to get all of them together and more so that they were the original crew. Before they got a good look at the files, though, Milo needed to ask a question he's been dying to have answered.
"Where was it?"
Mr. Whitmore smirked at him and placed a photograph on the files, "Iceland." Within the photograph, it showed a large group posing with his grandfather and the book all proud of what they had found.
Milo laughed and cried out, "I knew it!"
Mr. Whitmore smiled and said, "Now all we need is an expert in gibberish and nonsense. So, now it's time for a decision. You can continue to build on the foundation that your grandfather left you, or you can go back to a dank basement. Your choice." Milo stared in shock, unable to believe that this was real and that all of this was happening to him. He collapsed into a chair and stared down at his feet, clutching his head.
"This is for real, isn't it?" Milo whispered.
"Now you're catching on. So what will it be?" He asked softly.
Milo stood up straight and nodded, "Alright. Ok. I-I-I'll have to quit my job"
"It's done. You resigned this afternoon."
Milo sputtered, "I did?"
This also caused Mila to sputter, too. "He did?"
"Yep. I don't like to leave loose ends."
"Okay then. My apartment, I have to give notice."
"Taken care of."
"My clothes?"
"Packed."
"My books?"
"In storage."
"My cat?"
Suddenly, a white blur jumped into Milo's lap, causing him to jump, but before he could throw the thing from his lap, he realized it was his cat Fluffy. He cuddled her to his chest and looked at Mr. Whitmore. "My god." He whispered, stroking her head.
Mr. Whitmore stood up and softly said, "Your grandfather had a saying, 'Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children,'" he grabbed the Journal that Milo had placed on the table and put the journal into his hands, "This Journal is his gift to you, Milo. I hope you keep his life alive. Well enough of this morose mood, Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?"
Milo looked up at him from his seated position and carefully put Fluffy down before jumping up and shaking Mr. Whitmore hand furiously.
"I'm your man, Mr. Whitmore! You won't regret this! God! I'm so excited, I-I—I-I can't even hold it in!" He exclaimed, running his hands through his hair, hardly believing this was happening.
"I know I won't. And I know that your grandfather will be so proud of you for sticking to what you believed in and not letting anyone tell you that it wasn't real or that you should give up." He said, patting Milo's forearm with a smile.
"Well, I'm coming with you." Mila said with a smile, which surprised Milo. "Mila, no. I-I can't ask you to come. You have a career, what about your concerts?" Milo asked as he looked his younger twin in her eyes.
"Milo, I am coming with you, and that is final. You are my brother and the most important thing in my life. You're way more important to me than my silly concerts." Mila said with a smile as she held her brother's hands in a comforting manner.
"I was hoping you would say that, Mila." Mr. Whitmore said with a smile.
"I'll have to look for someone to watch my house while I am gone." She said with a thoughtful look.
"Taken care of."
"My clothes?"
"Packed."
"My instruments?"
"In storage."
"My chauffer?"
"Right here, Ms. Thatch."
Mila turned around and saw George standing there with a smile. "Mr. Whitmore informed me of what is happening. My family and I would be honered to look after your house until your return." George said with a smile.
Mila was amazed at Mr. Whitmore being quick. She ranned up to George and gave him a big smile. "Thank you, George. It means a lot to me that you are doing this for me." Mila said. "Anything for you, Ms. Thatch." He said, smiling at her.
Mila then turned to Mila and smiled at him. "Let's do this." She said, which caused Milo to smile.
'We'll make you proud, grandpa. We'll both find Atlantis for you.'
