While Professor Vasiliou disappeared downstairs for the towels and soap, Daniela returned to the guest bedroom and perused it further. The view from the center window was like the twin dormer in the professor's office. It afforded a panoramic view of the mountains on one side and the distant sea on the other. She opened out the double windows to let the breeze engulf her face and hair. It was a smell of pine, fresh earth and some indiscernible flower, perhaps citrus blossoms.

A small desk was in the corner of Myrsini's room which featured several drawers. She quietly opened the top one, feeling a strong but guilty sense of curiosity. Inside there was a sheath of papers stapled together like a thin book. It was obvious that the binder had been made amateurishly by a child, using pages from a computer printer. The little booklet was titled The Amazon Princess and featured the author's name as Myrsini Otrera.

Leafing through the pages Daniela could see it was typed out with alternating sections in English, Greek, and what may have been Turkish. There were many pictures of Amazons clipped from the Internet, mostly from paintings, pasted in among the blocks of text. Some of these images Daniela had actually seen at the Blegen Library, painted originally in the 18th and 19th centuries by French, Russian and British painters inspired by the classical Amazon motif. But there were still others which seemed more contemporary. Some illustrations created in the "New Age," fantasy style rendition, were obviously popular among teens and children. These images also added to the plot of a little girl growing up as an Amazon princess. The booklet was heavily worn and tattered on the edges of the pages, indicating from its folds and creases that it was not new and had endured many readings and stuffings back into the drawer.

In this same drawer were other pictures of Myrsini from different times and places. Again they were at different stages of her childhood. Dancing on a brightly colored carpet at perhaps age four-again on horseback, though slightly older than the photo framed on the wall. There was a suntanned picture near the Mediterranean with a hotel in the distance, and one of her included in a group photo of martial arts students. They all sported new green belts and proudly held their certificates. There were also numerous images of Myrsini in a blue uniform with other children the background, always the same large institution-looking to be a school situated in some dark green forestland with acres of lawn, possibly central or northern Europe.

Daniela persisted in her curious search, also finding photos of her with Dr. Vasiliou and several other women taken at what appeared to be a medical facility with high tech equipment and lab tables in the background. There were photos at Disneyland, and beaches recognizably on Daniela's own southern California coast. These last pictures were obvious indicators that both the professor and this little girl had visited California fairly recently.

The last picture, which piqued Daniela's intense interest, was at the very bottom of the drawer. It showed Myrsini in her most mature photo-she was still a girl of ten or eleven, but now posing stylishly in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. The picture was taken in daylight, using a flash to highlight her facial features. It looked to be professional. The big city Daniela knew so well was behind her, just before dusk. It was a city known for all its moods of light and dark and the photo did it great justice. There was a strange déjà vu sensation as Daniela focused once more on the exuberant features of the little girl. It was a foreign face, and full of budding refinement, with such wise, hopeful eyes. It suddenly dawned on her that this face was the girl in the hallway painting-the astounding Amazon girl on horseback, just much younger. The painting was an obvious projection of Myrsini, willfully transported some ten or more years into the future, while at the same time transcendent from the distant past.

* * *

After Theo had dropped Nicasio back at the American School in Athens, safe from their island trip that evening, he bid him well for the remainder of the weekend. Theo also assured him that Daniela would be in good care with the professor for the following days. Nicasio thanked him for an amazing tour of Andros, and his gracious company. Upon entering his dormitory room he immediately opened the computer and searched for any and all websites linking to the Universitad de Sevilla. At the same time he opened his Blackberry and found professor Simons had tried to reach him a number of times, as he expected, through calls and messages received since the midday. Knowing it would be now late morning in California, he dialed him up while preparing for a quick shower and some serious web searching that night.

The phone picked up in California on the first ring.

"Nicasio! I was beginning to think you might have been recruited into some kind of Greek austerity demonstration . . . or an anti-government rally over there. The country is still in a hell of a mess if you haven't noticed."

"I really haven't professor, but . . ."

"Well at least that's what their showing over here on the European news."

"Don't believe everything you see on TV, professor. I had a lovely day in this little country. Out on one of its finer islands. And we made some really incredible discoveries. Thanks to our new assistant, Daniela."

"Go on, my boy!"

"Well first . . . we actually located the whereabouts of this . . . Professor Vasiliou you were interested in . . ."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. A powerhouse of a person. And she's no doubt the queen bee of the researchers who had been doing a concentrated study of Amazons ten or twelve years ago. Definitely over here at the Blegen."

"Excellent work, young man!"

"So . . . this professor was definitely some kind of an authority in Greece. Mythology and History. But yeah . . . she's alive and well. As you suspected. Living in a beautiful, secluded summer home on the island of Andros. It's a pretty cozy place out there, I'll have to say. Hidden and very isolated."

"Tremendous! Go on . . ."

"Well. She's definitely the woman you're looking for. The professor who went off the radar screen some time ago. We learned that she did this disappearing act in collaboration with several other scholars."

"As I suspected, Nicasio. We've been monitoring Vasiliou's past international contacts over here."

"You have?"

"Yes. I've been busy on this, my boy. We now have a full-time security detail guarding the site . . . compliments of Cal. And lot's has been added to our capabilities . . . for searching out these people."

"What? How?"

"I can't say here. . . "

"OK." Nicasio felt a certain trepidation by the professor's reluctance to dissuss the matter by phone..

"But the most incredible thing we found was . . ."

"Another of that group we've zeroed in on is the missing grad student from Yale. You remember she turned up missing just before Vasiliou decided to go underground."

"Yeah, I do. And that wasn't even mentioned by the director here. But Theofilos filled us in about it."

"Interesting."

"But Professor . . . the most interesting thing we discovered was . . ."

"I wonder why. . . She was a Turkish American. Her name was Nihal Sawyer. These women were all part of a private, international consortium of scholars. You might even consider it secret consortium. They had no particular sponsorship or traceable funding."

"I'm aware of these things, professor . . . all females. All extraordinary researchers. No publications of their work or travels . . . nothing. At least ten or twelve years ago."

"And that's consistent with the fracture analysis on the marble pieces from the tholos I got back yesterday. According to our expert, both fragments . . . on the doorway and the sarcophagus lid. They'd been fractured within the past fifteen years, perhaps ten or twelve."

"Bingo!"

"And our lapidary specialist also told me that green marble we've got down there is only found in the Aegean.

"Really? Over here?"

"Specifically on the island of Tinos. That stone type has historically been in demand from that place for many centuries. It's rare and valuable. It's all about the rich green color. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah . . . it does."

"Tinos is very close to where you were today, young man. The island is only two nautical miles to the south of Andros. "

"That's very interesting. But . . . Professor what I've been trying to tell you may just be the best news yet . . ."

"Which is . . . ?"

"Dr. Vasiliou told us about a ship's log or pilot's diary. It was located by one of her former Greek grad students. Again over a decade ago."

"What kind of ship's log?"

"It was found on the island of Cephalonia apparently. Written in both Greek and Spanish by a Greek navigator from there. He had been recruited by Spain. For exploration of the western coastline of the New World."

"That's extraordinary, Nicasio! Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I've been trying to, Dr. Simons. . ."

"Jesus, Boy. What are the details on that?"

She said it was some 16th century diary of the navigator's explorations . . . written in Spanish and Greek. Probably purposely to be cryptic. The logs were then hidden all those years by the family of this mysterious Greek navigator."

"Christ, Nicasio. . . you know who that would most likely be . . . don't you?"

"Juan fucking de Fuca!"

"Yes. But we mustn't jump to conclusions. Those texts have never been mentioned . . . cataloged or studied. Even if they were later hidden or lost?"

"I'm aware of that, Professor. There was never any hard evidence of De Fuca's participation with the Spanish . . . let alone even his existence, but . . ."

"Exactly. Only legends. Hearsay by other navigators."

"But this could be the answer to the great riddle."

"Juan de Fuca, my Boy? Well it just may be."

"Professor. It has to be his journals they found. Just as I suggested. He's definitely now in our list of suspects!"

"So you did suggest him, young man! And were you able to see any of those documents while on Andros?"

"No. Not yet."

"Well you have to get your hands on them, Nicasio . . . and Soon!"

"OK. Well we're working on that."

"You and your girlfriend?"

"Yeah . . . sort of."

"Well it's a must, Nicasio. The most puzzling thing is why those texts were never published by Vasiliou. Or any of her team. And by now so many years ago. We're talking about a well-known academic here."

"Yes. It is strange. And get this, Professor. . . Vasiliou even told us she left her research career as a result of what she had found in those diaries."

The professor was stone silent.

"Well that certainly figures into where we are now," he finally replied.

"How do you mean?"

"Nicasio, we've located a number of women this Greek professor is in continual contact with. It seems to be an extensive network of some kind. There are four at Stanford alone, using their university email accounts and writing cryptically between them. Three we've determined are current professors. And at Cal the number stands at five! Two full professors!"

"Wow! Pretty good company. So she's really connected."

"How does that make you feel, young man? Out-numbered? And they're all preferentially women. And in a wide variety of academic disciplines."

"Yeah. Pretty scary."

"No. It's absurd! The list goes on in New England, as well. Practically every one of the Ivies over here has some female or another linked up to this woman. And the list is not limited to academics or just the United States, as we're investigating connections to many institutions abroad. Even as I speak."

"Jesus!"

"What's particularly troublesome is that we've detected the email of several U.S. governmental agencies as well connected to this network. There are numerous NGOs, several UN connections and a sheath of cryptic messages to accounts linked to a host of international women's organizations."

"This is all really . . . incredible! Are you positive about all this, Sir?"

"I'm afraid I am, Nicasio."

"Professor . . . you keep saying 'we.' I mean it sounds like . . . So just who are you working with over there?"

"I really cannot divulge that to you here, young man . . . not just now. But it all began with my searching out who our Stanford visitor to the site possibly could be. Right after you left for Greece. I needed to find out who breached our security at the site. I turned up a former Classical Studies major from Stanford who sits on the UC Board of Regents. Can you believe that?"

"Now yes. I can believe anything."

"She's on the ad hoc committee which gave us the permission and cleared the funding to proceed with this project! A Stanford alumni with connections to Harvard. It's unbelievable." The professor's voice was now distorted with agitation.

"Yeah, that's bad . . . kind of unpredictable really."

"Look, Nicasio. Those women the Greek professor described to you may be retired . . . working or dead . . . but there's something very active going on associated with this. And I'm finding it everywhere I dig. It all stems from that cabal of females which developed in Athens at the American School of Classical Studies. 

Nicasio just stood holding the phone pressed against his ear. He wondered how he had ever become so involved in what seemed more and more to be some convoluted conspiracy.

"My boy . . . you and your girlfriend must do your best investigative work now. This Professor Vasiliou seems still to be very much at the heart of all this."

Nicasio could only wonder about the extent of what the professor was calling, "all this."

* * *