I arrived at my room in Chora around three o'clock in the morning. While en route I could hear the sound of music and partying wafting over the hillside from the incomparable beaches below. While walking in the stillness and entering the winding streets of the town proper, people were still out in masses and the winding flow of tanned bodies in colorful island attire seemed endless since the early evening. And then I saw him.

            It was definitely one of the beefy Ukrainian or Russian bodyguards who came to Mykonos aboard the blue-hulled yacht and were at Melina's dinner party when I intercepted them just wo nights before. He was walking several meters behind me and when I turned around and noticed him, he quickly pivoted and looked at the shop in front of him, seemingly to be interested in women's clothing. I tried to evade him by walking faster but he followed equally close, assuring that he would not lose me in the winding, pirate-defensive streets. As I continued on toward my room he stayed just far enough back to wait and see which residence it was. Entering the main doorway and locking the door of my room behind me, I had the terrible feeling that this character definitely now knew where I was staying. Had he been following me ever since I left Melina's villa that night? The thought sent a chill down my spine.

            Because of my incredible experience of interviewing Melina,  and now this new fear which overcame me like a tidal wave, I knew I would not be able to sleep inside my room. There were only twenty hours or so before the anointed time on Delos when the moon would begin to rise to its fullest for the month, and perhaps the whole summer. I used the time without sleep to calm myself, doing what I always did in times of stress, and what my cultivated industry had taught me to do for years—research.

            I had already known that the Island of Delos played heavily in Greek mythology in ancient times, and that it remained today as a major archaeological site. It was visited by tourists ferried across the strait from the Mykonos port for the whole day. But what I read further about the little island fascinated me even more, especially in light of what Melina had told me of her parent's shocking past and the event on that small outcropping of sand and rocks. Something which became her ultimate curse into damnation.

            It was believed from ancient times that this island had magical powers. Thousands of years before, sanctuaries to gods and goddesses had been build there in addition to and outside the Greek pantheon of major deities. These included Egyptian, Babylonian and Assyrian power entities who ruled life, death and the heavens around those people who worshiped them.

            I tried to imagine the young Despina and her brother—both beautiful adolescents running and exploring freely among these lost ruins so long ago. I tried to picture that ominous day and night, almost exactly five-hundred years before that they had been lured and intoxicated by some inexplicable force of attraction. It gave to them an unnatural passion to mask their own identities to each other and further compelled them into a night of taboo sexual revelry. I found it so remarkable that the event occurred several centuries before any efforts were made by that new field of science—archaeology, which would one day bring hoards of the anthropologically curious there to unearth and explore the little isle's darkest mysteries.

            Because this small rocky hill sticking out of the sea was the center hub of the Cycladic chain of Aegean Islands, it became further geographically significant in former times. This was because it offered a natural, protected cove for ships to dock next to a natural rock quay safely out of the wind. Delos then, following its mythological significance to the Greeks, became a major stopping point for trade when the Romans who had conquered them in the first century took the island over and managed it as a small but wealthy colony of specialist artisans. Its fame went out far and wide as a market place for the rich and famous of all other sea-faring cultures on the periphery of the Aegean. Wealthy Roman generals and senators came to shop, as well as Phoenician kings from the eastern shores of the Mediterranean. Pirates and warlords from Africa to the south and the Persians from the north would all come to Delos to trade in luxury goods.

            These Delian products included fine gold jewelry, handcrafted Oriental furniture, marble statuary, and the finest bronze works known to the ancient world. But perhaps the most striking of the goods offered at a premium price to the highest bidders on this island market place was the sale of human slaves. And among the ordinary house-working and laborer slaves—individuals stolen in raids by Romans and Cilician pirates alike, were  the young and tender human trade which sadly exists even today in great numbers—the sale and transport of sex slaves.

            I learned that early morning after no sleep—while mining the various reputable Internet sources, that in one year during in the 2nd  century, and under Roman rule, some 10,000 young boys and girls were sold into the sex market to wealthy and powerful customers passing through on wooden, slave-driven ships. Delos, it seems was in keeping with its astounding, and in this case tragic, history of one of the most notorious little pieces of geography in the known world.

            And how ironic I found it, contemplating Melina's parents—as incestuous brother and sister—that in the more golden age of Classical Greece many stories were written of the sacred "twins" (a boy and girl) whose birth there on that island was considered fortuitous to mankind. For this was the place, mythologically, thought to float on the surface of the sea. Apollo, the paragon of beautiful manhood, father of athletic prowess, music, and poetry—and his "twin" sister Artemis, youthful beauty, goddess of the hunt, virginity, and patron to all girls—were said to have frolicked there in the warm sun and sand after their birth to Zeus, their father and Leto, their mother. What strange parallel was this to the evil doings of Melina's own parents there, a brother and sister I wondered.

            As I peeked outside my curtain, the night sky had already begun to swallow up the stars outside. I felt a powerful desire to sleep, yet I knew that I had work to do later before dusk on this special day. Somehow, I had to find a way over to Delos that night—only a 15 minute boat ride,  yet I was fully aware that it was illegal to be anywhere on the island after sunset.

        I knew for a fact that I would not be alone on that certain sandy beach, near the island's midpoint, a place Kimiko had sent me a Google Earth screen shot of. Looking at the image many times I somehow felt I could locate it in the light of the rising moon no matter where my starting point might be on the island. But just how to get to the island's shore the following evening was now the real issue. And hopefully, I could arrive and hide myself near that cove before Melina and her special guests went ashore, as they had planned to do for many months.  

            On the small table in my room I saw Kleio's phone number written on the piece of paper she had given me the day before. I then knew that after a few hours of sleep, I would have someone with real knowledge about how to hire an illegal boat ride that night across the rough water and to the edge of historical Delos. 

                                                            *     *     *

            It was already eleven fifteen in the bright morning when I awoke, still clutching a barely useless butter knife for protection which I had brought back to my room from breakfast a few days previously. I still was wary about my serious Slavic friend with the bald head and muscular arms. Why had he followed me to my dwelling? Melina seemed content that night to let me escape her lair unscathed. And this only tantalized and perplexed me more about her. I fished my cell phone out of my suitcase and noticed it still had a faint charge. I dialed the number on the little scrap of paper.

            "Embros? Nai?"

            "Kleio?"

            "Oh my god. Bryce! I can't believe it. You really do have a phone."

            "Of course, I do . . . but soon to go dead."

            There was delightful laughter on the other end of the line.

            "Well, at least I get to hear your voice for a minute or two, right?"

            "Kleio. I need to talk to you today some time. It's kind of urgent. Can we meet somewhere?"

            "Are you in Chora?"

            "Yeah. Here at the room I'm renting."

            "Well I'm in town too. Doing some shopping. I'm at one of the few markets here. Where is your room?"

            "Um. . . well, it's kind  of . . . up from. . . at the top of these stairs and near. . . wait, let me see."

           "Great Bryce. Do you want to meet me in an hour down at the little chapel near the waterfront? It's where the tourists are always taking pictures of the island's mascot?"

            "Mascot?"     

            "Yes. Petros. He's a pelican. Sort of a whitish-pink one. You'll find him there near the fish market. And the chapel I was telling you about."

            "Ok. I'll find Petros . . .  the pelican. In about an hour."

            "Good. It will be nice to see you."

            "I feel the same, Kleio. But . . . well, some things have come up, and . . ."

            "Anything serious? Bryce, are you in any trouble?"

            "No . . . at least not yet."

            "What?"

            "Never mind. I'll explain in an hour."

            "Alright. Take care. See you then."

            I shut off the phone just while a constant beep was telling me that the battery was critically low. I spent the next thirty minuets eating a bag of cookies I had saved for emergencies, showering, shaving, and changing into clean clothes.  Somehow I had to cross over the serpentine streets and find my way to the dock and ask for a pelican that hangs around a small church.

            Within the next fifteen minutes I was standing near a crowd of people gawking and making over one of the largest birds I had ever seen in my life. Its head came up to the chest of most people and it constantly flapped its ominous large bill, sometime menacingly at people who would cower back while young children laughed. As this monstrosity waddled around aimlessly, people snapped pictures and videos of it, trying to feed it potato chips and other things no doubt unsavory to a predator bird that lives on fish.

            Suddenly I was approached from behind by someone who put their hands over my eyes.

            "Hey! Jesus! What the. . ."

            "Hello there lover boy."

            It was Kleio. Looking fresh and as beautifully as ever in her cutoff jeans and bright red top. It was strange seeing not in a bathing suit with her hair combed so lovely.

            "Come on," she said. "Have you had breakfast yet?

            "Food? What's that?"

            "Let's go, silly."

            Kleio led the way beyond a group of Chinese tourists who seemed the most enthralled with Petros. We ended up in a little shady cafeteria with a pretty impressive menu, including some American entries. We both ordered burgers, fried potatoes and ice teas.

            "So what kind of trouble did you get yourself into here, you bad tourist boy?"

            "Well. No trouble really. I just need to find a way to get over to Delos today."

          "That's easy, Bryce. A ferry leaves  for the island every half hour. Right over there at the edge of the port."

             I looked and could see a fairly large ship with a sign near it which read, Delos Tours Daily.

            "Well yeah. But it's a little more complicated than that," I said, reluctantly.

            "What do you mean?

            "I want to go there . . . tonight actually."

            Kleio was silent for a moment

            "Bryce, it's forbidden to be over there at night. You see,  ever since. . ."

            "Yeah, I know. I read  the history . . . But I really have to get there especially tonight."

            "And because?"

            "Well, because the full moon begins tonight and . . . it's complicated, Kleio."

            "Complicated?  No, Bryce. It's really simple. There are guards over there and they will arrest you if you are caught on the island after the sun goes down!"

            Just then a young boy brought our food out. Kleio seemed to be just as hungry as I was.

            "So who do you know here that might have some ideas about this," I asked, devouring half my burger. in two bites. "I'm willing to pay someone a lot of money to get there, Kleio."

            "So you are  serious about this. Aren't you?"

            "Yup. See, it's kind of the reason I came here to Greece this summer."

            "Really? So let me guess, you're an archaeologist and never told me that."

            "No. But . . . you're getting close."

            "An astronomer?  Here to study the full moon?"

            "Mmmm. OK . . . closer."

            "Bryce, tell me! Why do you need to get to Delos . . . tonight?

            "Well, I would love to tell you . . . but you wouldn't believe me . . . and if I did tell you, then I would have to kill you . . . so . . .yeah."

            Kleio laughed that delicious laugh of hers.

        "Bryce? You are a very strange . . . but irresistible guy. Even if you are a tourist."

            "Thanks, I guess."

            We finished our food and she quickly motioned to the boy to bring the check. 

            "Come on. I want to see this room you're renting."

            "What? Why? And what about my  trip  to Delos. Who should I ask?"

            "I'll call some people I know. Their fathers all have boats here. Maybe one of them can take it out tonight."

            "Wow. I like the sound of that. Look, they can just drop me off, you know. Don't have to come themselves. Especially since it's that risky for them."

            "Whatever, Bryce. We'll see. Now come on. I have something to share with you. As a surprise."

            "Share with me?"

            "Yes. Some good news."

            "I never turn down good news, Kleio. Let's go."

            As we passed by a small market Kleio went in on her own and bought a bottle of chilled champagne.

            "What's that for?" I asked, as she returned with the bottle in a plastic bag.

            "Just part of the good news," she said smiling.

            "OK then."

            We wound our way back across the town as best as I remembered and soon it was familiar once more. When I unlocked the door of my room and entered, Kleio immediately took me in her arms and looked into my eyes.

            "Guess where I'll be studying next year?"

            "Umm. . .  back in the UK . . . at a new, better university?"

            "No, silly . . .. California!"

            "What? Where?"

            "The University of California Santa Barbara!"

            "Are you kidding me? That's a great school and very beautiful city."

            "I know. I spent a lot of time working on that transfer all this year. It finally was approved. My parents called me this morning to let me know while I was shopping."

            "So this truly is a big day for you young lady. I'm very happy it's worked out. So, wow. You must be a very good student to get into the UC system?  

               "Well. Good enough, I suppose."

                She hugged me again in exhilaration.

            "See, I'd been waiting for their response since April. And now it's final, Bryce!. I'll be going there in August before the end of the summer. It's a real dream come true for me!"

            Suddenly she was kissing me passionately. Right there, standing at the little table with the Campaign bottle getting warm. Her kiss was a mixture of celebration and passion—a former passion I had seen and encouraged on the beach once before when she stopped herself.

            We kissed again, longer and deeper. She took my hand and pulled me over to my unmade bed and we both fell onto it, embracing and kissing with greater desire. My own arousal for her was now again in full gear and I began to unbutton her red top . . .  when suddenly an explosion of sound entered the room!

        And with this huge noise came the breaking of the door of it's hinges. Quickly entered the two body guards of Melina's friends. The one who had followed me, and a slightly shorter one with a little beard but not less stocky or powerful looking than his partner. Both men sported faces you see in bad movies of bad people doing bad things.

           Kleio and I were both in shock. She screamed only once before the taller intruder, wearing sandals, shorts and a T-shirt rushed over and pulled her off the bed. He then had her standing against him with his hand over her mouth. The other uninvited visitor produced a handgun which he steadily pointed at my chest.

            I couldn't have called for help, even if I tried to. I was frozen by the sight of the pistol and the loose-cannon individual who was holding it on me, prepared to shoot. His expression communicated very clearly that he would have no difficulty pulling the trigger. And just to show his resolve to keep the room quiet, and the silencing characteristic of his weapon, the Slav fired into the mattress several times. There was surprisingly no loud crack of a gunshot  but rather a little "ping" of air and the strong smell of gunpowder. I noticed the bullets had passed through the pillow, the mattress and shattered the floorboards under  it.

            In a strong Eastern European accent the taller guard gave directions.

            "You will walk out of here following Giorgi. As lovers. Your arm tight around her. Understand?"   

            I nodded emphatically.

            "Good. Because we will be behind you with this." He pulled out of his pocket and brandished his own chrome colored weapon in the air. "And if you try to escape, you both will be the next bed I shoot."

            The man then released Kleio, shoving her toward me.

            "Do you understand too?"

            She also nodded, too petrified to even speak.

            "We leave now. All together. A happy family. Go!"

            Giorgi led the way and Kleio and I followed—arm in arm as instructed. The taller guard was so close to our backs that I could feel him bump into us from time to time as we had to stop or slow down in the crowded streets.

            We were taken out of the town to the edge of the port. I could see in the distance the crowd still mindlessly following Petros near the little church and could smell the salty air of the sea as we neared it. Giorgi led us down a long cement ramp way leading to fingers of docks and the places where small pleasure boats were moored. We passed several wooden hulled boats and one kaiki on our way out to the last boat tied to the quay. It was a gun-gray water skiing craft which was a sophisticated combination fiberglass and rubber tubing. It was powered by twin Mercury engines, already dropped and resting in the water, ready to be fired up to speed across the sea.

            Giorgi stepped into the craft from dock side and started the engines with the push of a button. Our guide with the gun still pointed it at us from beneath his shirt. He ordered us to quickly climb on board and to sit on the boat's padded white seats. He then jumped in himself and untied the ropes holding the sleek little ship to the dock. Once free from the cement works, our muscular captor powered the engines up and we felt a rush of air on our faces and a push of gravity against us as the engines throttled up into a steady scream. For several minutes we plowed  forward through the water of the port at an incredible speed, approaching ever further into a deeper, bluer sea.

             I looked over at Kleio. Her face showed the same pale fear she had when we were so suddenly attacked and abducted from my room. The boat reached a certain distance away from the port and I looked forward to the rocky headland of the next island—it was indeed Delos, long and low to the water, with two hills rising up above the horizon. We were as yet too far away to see the ancient ruins which dominated the island, but there were certainly no signs of large buildings or any indication man had made his modern mark on this isolated place. I calculated that Delos was only a few minutes away at the speed we traveled.  

        Yet this was not to happen, as we made a sweeping left turn to the south, now running parallel to the coastline of Mykonos. I knew well that this was the direction of the large bay of Psarou, where the blue-hulled Mega-Yacht was still anchored off shore. Obviously, we were being taken there for some unknown reason—most likely to wait out the time until night would fall. And bringing with it, out of the east would come the brightest moon of the summer. For me and the innocent, unknowing Kleio, it would prove to be the biggest event in our lives. 

                                                                 *     *     *