“It would appear,” a friendly voice said, “that I have arrived in the proverbial nick of time.”

Yes, in a remarkable stroke of luck, a team of NUMA divers has been investigating nearby underground waterways, and Dirk Pitt has swum to their rescue. When they meet up with a party of murderous bikers (yes, motorcycles in underground mine tunnels), they realize that the cave-in was not accidental. Someone wishes the secret chamber to remain secret.

A mysterious obsidian skull is a clue to a long-forgotten civilization. Soon Pitt, his sidekick Al Giordino, and Pat will be searching for further evidence of the culture and its amazing prophecy of imminent doom. Their task, however, will be complicated by the diabolical maneuvers of a wealthy South American family whose ultimate goal is world domination.

Dirk Pitt and I have a long history. Together we’ve raised the Titanic, thwarted a plot to divert the mighty Mississippi, discovered ancient Incan treasure in Peru, and accomplished many remarkable feats of derring-do. But I have to admit that after all these years together, the guy’s starting to get on my nerves. His is clearly a case of arrested development. He briefly reflects on whether he and Al aren’t getting a bit old for all this physical exploits, that the old joints and muscles aren’t what they used to be, then they head off to a hidden fortress in the Andes and defy the laws of physics to rescue fair damsels.

After all these years, it seems to me that he’s long overdue for a promotion and a cushy desk job. Even his living arrangement seems highly suspect: this is a guy who lives in an old airplane hangar filled with vintage automobiles. Sure, there are millions of five-year-olds who would consider that the ultimate dream come true (who cleans and dusts all that stuff anyway?), but most boys eventually put away their Matchbook cars and Tonka trucks and get on with their lives.

And poor Al who’s always in his buddy’s shadow with an inferior position and a significantly inferior physique deserves a little respect. (Not to spoil the surprise, but at book’s end it appears that Al has gotten a girlfriend and is actually thinking of settling down.) You gotta wonder why he’s been satisfied to follow in Dirk’s illustrious footsteps for so many years. And you gotta wonder why this is Dirk’s most enduring relationship.

But what really gets to me is this guy is never wrong! There are archeologists on the scene speculating as to the purpose of certain objects. But who disputes their conclusions and puts forth his own theories? And who’s proven right? They’re being pursued by a gang of armed guards, and he figures they’ll be overtaken in seven minutes -- not six to eight, you understand --seven! And, of course, every single one of his last-second schemes works out.

Just once I’d like to see him say, “Gee, I’m wrong. You’re right.”

If you’re happy with the old formula -- diving exploits, global conspiracies, split-second escapes -- and can’t get enough of those opaline eyes and he irreverent repartee, you may find this most recent installment more entertaining than I did.

But for me, Atlantis Found is same old same old with an excessively convoluted plot and over-long besides. (The most intriguing segment of the book is an introductory section about a nineteenth century Antarctic expedition, but unfortunately it’s quite short.) After following Dirk around the world from mountain top to deepest sea in more than a dozen thrillers, the thrill is gone. I guess I’m ready for Dirk Pitt to grow up.

--Lesley Dunlap