Nicasio seriously began to think through what he had, up to that point, been a part of. He also pondered where it was all going. He thought about the intense look he had recently seen in the professor's eyes. And he began to question if he too were not falling into the obsessive nature of the incomparable find and its potential impact on the historical world. Nevertheless, he and the professor had galvanized their energies, and now it seemed their careers over it.

The professor spoke up on the phone with the same familiar intensity.

"So you see, my young friend. In Athens they are not to know anything. Even about our intentions. Or anywhere else you and your girlfriend may travel under my directions. The project is still under wraps. Totally. Even to those who may enlighten us . . . we must keep it sealed. There could be legal demands as well. Involving international courts."

"Legal demands?"

"Exactly. Through certain treaties and agreements, the entire collection of our findings down there could be requested. Asked to be returned to their place or origin. Especially if that place is confirmed as being abroad. Which is what we are now trying to determine, Nicasio. And this could happen even before any extensive investigation get's off the ground."

"Wow."

"We don't need such an incident, Nicasio. Nor any other development which could compromise our inquiries and work. It could delay us for years to come."

Nicasio felt his pulse quicken.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Well, you shouldn't, young man."

"OK. I'm aware of certain disputes in the past. Treasure hunters in the waters of sovereign states . . . Spanish and Portuguese shipwrecks in the Caribbean. But I just hadn't really considered . . ."

You should know as you enter this business, my young assistant, that archaeologists and regional authorities are never in the same camp."

"Right. I see. I'll just have to keep that in mind, professor."

"And it could get even more complicated than that, believe me. We're dealing with some unique elements here. Certainly Spanish. And very possibly Greek to acertain degree. All tangible, historical, artifacts which may go begging ownership. This whole find may be beyond myth and tradition. It might spill over into geopolitics . . . and end up in the foreign courts."

Nicasio had already stopped dressing to go out while on the phone. He sat motionless now on his worn sofa, intently listing to the professor's concerns.

"I don't have to remind you about the Elgin Marbles. Greece has every right to bring back to its newest museum those lovely stones. They were simply stolen off the Parthenon and carried to England where they've remained for some two-hundred years. The BritishMuseum has so far not complied with Greek request to get them back. And even after Athens built a special museum to highlight them."

"You're right. I see the potential here, Sir. I remember reading that Yale lost a court battle like this . . . over their entire artifact collection taken from digs at Machu Picchu."

"That's right and they had to finally comply with the Peruvian government. "To return the entire collection."

"Correct. And we really don't know exactly where those Bixby stones came from, do we my boy? But it's one of the facts we'll probably have confirmed when our marble analysis is complete in a few days."

"Looking forward to that."

"Well I'm not so sure I am. There's the real potential here for this whole thing to develop into an unpleasant international news story."

"Depending upon how it's handled. Correct?"

"Right. We don't want any embarrassment to the university . . . the UC System . . . and certainly not the U.S. Government."

"OK then. . . understood. So just what am I going to tell Professor Kara . . . 'friend of god' about Daniela's presence over there in Athens?"

"Karabetsos. Well I understand she is an artist of sorts. Is that right?"

"Yes. Actually she is. A graphics artist at . . . wait . . . How did you know that?"

"I believe you had told me once. Some time ago."

"I did?"

"Yes. I'm certain you did."

Nicasio tried to remember when he could have told the professor that information. The professor entered back into the conversations quickly.

"She can just tell them . . . where ever you go, that her research area is about . . . the Amazons."

Nicasio smiled at this proposition. "Amazons," he whispered to himself

"But only as it pertains to their artistic representation historically," Dr. Simons continued. "She'll be doing graphical research when in the library. You know . . . something like . . . an art student at Cal . . . interested in depicting Amazons . . . according to their iconography in the classical Greek tradition. Something like that. Am I clear?"

"Yes, that's actually good. I like it."

"But you'll have to brief her about a few things, Nicasio. Carefully. She's really not to know much else we are doing."

Nicasio thought about the feasibility of it all, involving Daniela. He fought back his concerns in favor of being with her for some quality time abroad. Perhaps that is what it would take to mend their relationship.

"You must also scrutinize those images she sees while you're with her, Nicasio. Look for any connections to what we have already found decoratively on the sarcophagus. And particularly any graphical similarities to that heraldic design we've yet to decipher on the sarcophagus lid."

"Right."

"You've taken extensive photos of those designs. You'll need to memorize them before you leave."

"I already have, professor."

"You both will be spending time in the Blegan Library, and maybe a few national museums . . . . hopefully even a site or two on this 'university-study-abroad' pretext we are employing."

"OK."

"You'll be under the direction of UC Berkeley, and I will officially be your acting supervisor. Remaining here, of course. And you'll call me if anything comes up or into question. Understood? You must be ready to move to any other location if things develop."

"Right."

Nicasio was still stunned by what the professor was proposing, not only for him, but for Daniela. Dr. Simons then added one last dash of confidence-building before hanging up. It was his way of assuring that all would go well abroad after only a few days of preparation.

"You just let me handle the preliminaries to all this, young man. I'll arrange your travel. All contacts and destinations over on the other side. And I'll be confirming your visit with Karabetsos in Athens at the AmericanSchool tomorrow. Remember . . . you'll be reporting to me regarding anything we've discussed And specifically about . . . our enemy."

"The Stanford women?"

"Not only. Any past and present female colleagues of them would be nice. And what became . . . or is ongoing with their activities. Our enemy might just be more about gender than any rival institution. So keep your eyes open and your wits about you."

Nicasio smiled to himself. "The enemy," he thought and whispered to himself. "Amazons." It was all sounding a bit like some James Bond movie.

"Remember, young man, you'll report anything you . . . or your girlfriend stumble across. As a female, she could be quite useful to us at some point in this inquiry."

Nicasio held back a laugh.

"Well I don't know about that, professor. But I'm definitely happy she's tagging along."

"Good. Get a full night's sleep. Your work on which explorer was involved in this historical event is still essential to us in the overall. Your library work here is bound to yield something. Mind you to stop by my office in the morning!"

"Right professor. . . .Goodnight then."

The moment the professor hung up Nicasio became seriously pensive. He was still reeling from this new whirlwind new slant of it all. It was becoming very clear that his mentor was devoting his total efforts—it seemed his entire reputation, into the investigation. What worried him was that Dr. Simons was more and more oblivious to the fact that the previous week had been a maelstrom of emotional and physical stress placed upon him. The truth was that as a young man Nicasio was ambitious, but not so accustomed to living and working at such a selfless and grueling pace. His former professor had apparently done so for the better part of his entire career. Trying now to balance his own professional life with Daniela was proving to be a tremendous strain, and one he had not previously envisioned. It was a combination he was now having serious second thoughts about.

Realizing it was now well after midnight, and knowing Daniela had an important meeting later that day, he refrained from calling her. The news of her being granted permission to travel with him was probably best shared later the next day. It was still an unpredictable surprise to him that the professor insisted that she go along. But as he understood it, the purpose was not for his own benefit so much as to help with the clandestine gathering of information, so necessary and presently urgent.

As Nicasio dejectedly undressed and got into bed, he tried to prepare himself mentally for what he still had to do in the morning after meeting with the professor. It was going to be an old familiar descent into a world of obscure documents and archaic Spanish texts. They had been written by and about the travails of lonely, desperate men, near a half-millennium before. And he had become familiar with their tone, their somberness in reporting daily events, sometimes mundane and sometimes tremendously exciting.

Lying there in the dark, he reflected upon his own lonely journey as a researcher, bent on some miraculous discovery buried in a paragraph or revealed through some new connection these men had inadvertently left on a page, pregnant with insight. The process would be a familiar one, using the exclusive search engine protocols and restrictive library clearances he had gleaned as a doctorial candidate.

The prospects, however, for his inquiries abroad seemed a lot brighter to him and not so lonely—especially knowing he would have such a lovely assistant there by his side. For the next few days, and while inside the preeminent libraries at Berkeley—two of the West coast's most extensive research facilities—he would go on attempting to connect some elusive dots which had inexplicably gone unnoticed for centuries. California, always the very edge of the Western world, was a place truly defined as the land of eternal dot-connecting.

* * *