Chapter Seven
Her body soaked in the sweat of passion, Janice leaned back on her knees and luxuriously trailed her tongue across the top of her lip so that she might lap up the last sweet vestiges of her lover's exquisite offerings. With a long sigh she said, "Mel, you're gonna kill me yet."

Lying on her back, chest heaving, Melinda parted her knees as wide as possible in order reward her weary lover by giving her the best possible view of her handiwork--Melinda's glistening crotch. With a throaty croon she answered, "Mmmmm, but what a way to gooooo...."

"Damn straight," Janice with a wanton grin.

Janice eased herself down on the blanket beside her belle. In turn Melinda, still breathing a little heavily from her most recent orgasm, rolled over on her side to face the woman that had changed her life forever. Propping her head up on her elbow she called out her sweet lover's name. "Jan?"

Jan too had rolled over on her side and as she so often liked to do had by now nestled her head in close to Melinda's breasts. "Yeah?"

Melinda reached around to the back of Janice's head and took up a thick strand of the archaeologist's long blonde hair. For the life of her she could never understand why the woman insisted on treating her beautiful blonde hair so meanly by binding it up the way she did and, worst of all, by always wearing those dreadful hats! For one raised to always try to look her best at all times it still bothered Melinda some that Janice did not seem to care much about how she looked. What really made it such a shame for her, though, was the knowledge that if she tried even just a little bit Janice Covington would be an absolutely stunning woman. Melinda had seen if for herself that time in Lisbon back during the war. She had seen what Janice could do if she put her mind to it. But unfortunately Janice rarely tried. It simply was not in her. It was not her.

Melinda deftly took the hair in between her two fingers and began to gently curl it. "You're thinking real hard about goin' after that treasure, aren't you?"

At first Janice tried to seem noncommittal. "What makes you say that?" she asked.

Melinda gave the hair a very gentle tug. "Because I know you, Janice Covington. That's why."

Resting her head on Melinda's arm, Janice rolled over on her back and stared up at the roof of the tent. "I don't know, kid," she sighed. "We're sure as hell going nowhere fast here. In fact I've been expecting Martin's skinny ass up to show up any day now to close us down."

"But we're supposed to be here for a least another month," Melinda reminded her. "That's what our agreement with those people calls for. I mean, so what if we haven't found anything? I don't know how you see it but to me this is a legitimate pursuit of knowledge, not just some kind of business deal. My God, we're not being paid by how much dirt we move every day or by how many artifacts we find. We're simply here to learn all we can about King Nonos' reign. Or at least, that's what I thought."

"Nobody's saying otherwise," said Janice. "Still, just what have we learned?"

"Well, not much," Melinda conceded.

"Mel, you and I are not tenured professors at some blue nose Eastern college. The people that hire us expect something for their money." She idly swept back a wisp of hair from her cheek and added, "I wouldn't say that was unreasonable on their part, would you?."

Melinda had taken off her glasses but it was not for this reason that she now squinted at Janice. "We're not just relic hunters, either." She paused as if to gather herself and then asked "Are you sure you're not just using our lack of success up to this point as a rationalization for bailing out of here and going off on what is in all probability a wild goose chase?"

With a quick jerk of the head Janice turned to face her. "What are you saying?" she asked. "That I'm a quitter?"

"That's not what I said and you know it," was Melinda's quiet answer. She had not meant to sound so harsh and she now found herself wishing this whole thing would just go away. Already that uncomfortable feeling was washing over her.

"You might as well have," Janice said in an accusatory tone. "Damn, Mel, you make it sound like I'm forcing you to make some kind of choice between right and wrong." She paused and gave her friend a hard look. "Are you? Do you think that's what this is?"

"How can you say that after all we've been through together?" countered Melinda. "Jan, I know you're not a quitter. You never were and you never will be. Good Lord! You're by far the most tenacious person I've ever met. You're my hero! But if you're wantin' me to lie here and tell you that I totally agree with what it is you're wanting to do, I can't do that. I won't do that. I just...won't."

"So you don't want to go then?"

"Darn it, you're not listening. Whether or not I want to go has nothing to do with it. What did I say earlier? Where you go I go. You know that. Ah'm just sayin' that I might not necessarily agree with this, that's all. "

"Okay, I understand that," said Janice, trying to hide her relief. "I respect that. You have every right to express your opinion. But still...I mean...I can count on you...right?"

Melinda was shocked. This was not like the supremely confident Janice she knew so well. In fact she seemed down right worried. Tenderly the belle brushed the back of her hand across Janice's cheek. "Oh, Jan," she said breathlessly, "you mean after all this time you really think you have to ask? Always! Till the day I die."

Janice took the hand into her own and held it there at her cheek. "I just don't want you to think I'm somehow forcing you to go against your principles. Jeez, I'd never do that." She took a deep breath and continued, "Maybe it would be for the best if you did stay here. It could get rough, ya know."

Melinda shot her an impish smile and said, "Oh, and things weren't rough that time in Borneo? Or Costa Rica? Or Portugal? Or Alaska? Or Tehran? Or Austria? Or our first time together here in Greece? Jan, I've been in a war zone before, ya know."

"Okay, okay, I give." Janice said with a chuckle. "I get the message."

Melinda gave Janice's hand a tight squeeze and said, "Well you'd better," said Melinda. "Because if you ever doubt my devotion to you again..." She squeezed the hand tighter, tight enough to even cause it to hurt a little. "...I just might be forced to do something drastic."

Janice eyed her curiously and though her lover's tone had been a teasing one for fleeting moment it was not her gentle belle that she saw in those enchanting blue eyes but rather someone else. "What, do you think I'm stupid?" the archaeologist cracked. "Hey, never piss off anybody bigger that you, that's what I always say."

Now Melinda pulled Janice's hand to her own cheek. "Janice Covington, I love you so much. I belong with you, wherever that may be."

"Melinda Pappas, you're an angel. You really are." With a nod of the head Janice said resolutely said, "All right, we're going. If we can figure out just where the treasure supposed to be." She then flashed a sly little grin and said, "So tell me more about this Harpalus guy."

"Uh uh," Melinda grunted. "Not now." Stretching out her arm, she pulled the blonde beauty close to her. Just before their lips met for another exquisite kiss she whispered, "I've got other plans for you."

A half hour later Janice snuggled in close and Melinda enveloped the smaller woman in the fold of her body. And so between two thin blankets they lay there on the hard ground, bound together not only by Melinda's strong arms but by each one's undying love and devotion for the other as well. Within ten minutes both of them were sound asleep. Melinda was the first to go, her rhythmic breathing lapsing every so often into the very soft snoring the mischievous Janice never tired of teasing her about. Janice herself soon followed, her own breath warmly caressing Melinda's left breast.

Out in the truck Jack had by now already sawed enough logs to build a good sized house. Fortunately, the haunting nightmares that even now so often plagued him would not descend on him this night. Perhaps it was because, at long last, he had finally been reunited with the friends he had never forgotten. Then again, perhaps it was because he was, like Janice and Melinda, simply so very tired or because of his heart felt talk with Melinda. Whatever the reason, Jack Klienman lay there in the peaceful stillness of the mountain top and dreamed not of burning sailors screaming in agony but of Melinda Pappas' gentle drawl and Janice Covington's ferocious kindness. High above, a brilliant full moon steadily arced its lonely way across the heavens, its luminous glow washing out all but the brightest stars in the wondrous constellations which had so fascinated the ancient inhabitants of this fabled land.

On the mountain it had been a very long day.

**********

In the morning the autumnal dawn broke crisp and clear. As always, those first rosy rays found Janice Covington already up and ready to face the new day. She poured a steaming cup of coffee from her battered old pot and then carefully eased her way around the pallet where Melinda still lay sleeping. Quietly she sat down on Jack's crate and for a few precious minutes did nothing more than sip her coffee and watch Melinda as she slept.

Gazing at her, Janice could not help but envy Melinda's long legs and sturdy shoulders. For one to merely describe her as "beautiful" seemed to Janice to be oh so inadequate. No, the proper word, the one true description was magnificent!

After a time Janice washed the last of the coffee over the back of her tongue and stood up. As much as she enjoyed the serenity of the moment she was a woman with a lot to do and none of it was going to get done by sitting around and sipping coffee. Kneeling down beside Melinda, the archaeologist began to shake her slumbering partner by the shoulder. "Mel. Mel!"

Without stirring Melinda replied with a weak, "Mmmm?"

"C'mon, Mel. Get up. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Melinda grudgingly rolled over on her back and covered her eyes with the crook of her arm. "Ohhh," she groaned. "Just five more minutes."

"Get uuuup, Mel," Janice repeated. "I want to go over the stone with you."

When Melinda made no further attempt to move Janice picked the belle's trousers up off the cot and unceremoniously dropped them on the sleepy young woman's head.

"Jaaa-yun!" Melinda whined, snatching the trousers from her face. "I swear you are just the meanest thing."

"You don't want Jack to see you like this, do ya?" teased Janice, as she treated herself to another cup of coffee. "Hell, the poor guy might trip over his tongue or something if he saw those bazookas of yours."

"Janiiiiiice," Melinda scolded, as pulled her trousers over her long legs.

"What?" Janice innocently replied. She took a sip of her coffee and with a wicked little smirk added, "Not that I would blame him."

Hearing this, Melinda could not help but grin as she pulled on her trousers. "The only one I want drooling over me is you, Janice Covington.

Janice shook her head once and said, "No problem there. Or have you already forgotten last night?"

"Mmmm, how could I?" the belle dreamily replied.

Squinting her eyes, Melinda felt around on the cot until she found her glasses. When a quick scan of the tent did not reveal what she was looking for she wrinkled her nose and said, "Have you seen my bra?"

Somehow the thing had found its way into Melinda's work boot. Upon finding it, Janice wadded it up and tossed it to her yawning friend.

"Thanks."

Janice watched her strap the bra on over those lovely breasts she adored so much. "Uhh, you forgot your panties," she reminded her.

"To heck with 'em," Melinda said with a shrug. "I don't have any more clean ones anyway."

"While you're doing that I'll go wake up Admiral Halsey out there," said Janice.

"Jan?"

Janice turned back to see Melinda earnestly looking up at her from her seat on the pallet. "Yeah?"

In entreating tones Melinda asked "Be nice to him?"

Janice smiled faintly and said, "You like him, don't you?"

"He's an awfully nice fella," said Melinda. "And besides, he's our friend so don't go hurtin' his feelings."

Feigning innocence, Janice asked "Who me?"

"Sometimes you're not exactly Miss Congeniality, you know," Melinda said with a knowing grin.

Janice placed the back of her hand to her forehead and in a campy Southern accent lamented, "Ohhhh the shame of it all! Of all things to be branded uh shrew by one's very own lovah! Oh my, ahh jes' don't know what this world is comin' to."

Melinda laughed and said, "Well just try, Scarlett. Okay?"

"Don't worry, kid," Janice said with a wink. "For you I'll be the very soul of propriety."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Leaving Melinda to her business, Janice stepped out of the tent and into the cool morning air. Unlike her soporific partner this was and had always been her favorite time of day. Except in the aftermath of one of her many past alcoholic binges she had for as long as she could remember been an early riser, a "morning person" as Melinda called her. Now, as she purposefully strode toward the old truck her acute senses reveled in the sight of the morning sun's long shadows, the lonely coo of a faraway dove and, yes, even the singular smell of the dust being kicked up by her boots.

Reaching the truck, Janice gave its door two sharp whacks with the bottom of her fist. "Jack!" she barked out.

At first there was no answer so she peeked through the window. Jack Klienman was lying there on the seat, mouth wide open, his head on the passenger side and with feet jutting out the partially open door on the driver's side.

Twice more Janice banged on the door. "Jack!"

"Wha?" came a week response from inside.

"This is Janice. Get up, Jack."

She saw him stir slightly but when he made no further attempt to rise Janice stepped up on the running board and, leaning through the window, rapped a third time. This time, however, it was done with her knuckles on the side of Jack's head.

"Owww!" Jack yelped. "Jeez, Covington!" Jack sat up rubbed his head. "What was that for?"

"We're wasting daylight," Janice matter-of-factly replied.

"For what?"

"Well if you get your butt up sometime before noon I'll tell ya."

"Okay okay," said Jack. "You don't have to get so sore about it."

This caused Janice to think back to the promise she had just made to Melinda and she felt a little guilty for having been so impatient with their friend. Her voice decidedly softer, she asked "I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

"Nah, I like being awakened by a shot to the head every morning."

Janice grinned. Mel's right, she thought. He is a good guy.

Jack slid out the driver's side door and hurried to catch up with Janice who was already walking back to the tent. He smacked his lips a few times to get the bad taste out of his mouth and then said, "Say, what's for breakfast? I'm starving."

Janice was about to tell him that breakfast would have to wait when from down the road she heard the distant sound of an approaching vehicle.

Jack heard it too. Staring down the road he said, "Sounds like you've got company."

Who in the world could be coming up here this early? she wondered. The cop! Yeah, she thought, it's gotta be the cop. Quickly Janice turned to Jack and said, "Make yourself scarce."

"Huh?"

"I think it's that cop that was here yesterday," said Janice.

"So? I've got nothin' to hide," said Jack.

From behind him Janice gripped both his arms and began to hustle him toward the tent. "I know that and you know that," she said. "Trouble is, Dick Tracy there doesn't know that. By now he's bound to know a guy fitting your description was recently seen with Frailing."

Reaching the front of the tent, Janice shoved Jack through the opening. "Mel!"

"What's going on?" Melinda asked, as she stepped outside.

"I think our friend the inspector is back," said Janice, angling her head toward the road. But as the car came into view she recognized it as belonging not to Pratikakis, but to her old antagonist Andrew Martin instead.

**********

>From his seat behind the steering wheel Hans leaned over and lightly shook his boss by the shoulder. "Herr Brachmann, wake up. We will be reaching Volos soon."

Karl Brachmann sat erect and blinked hard a couple of times to clear his bleary eyes. He then checked his watch. "Seven seventeen," he observed. "Excellent. We have made good time."

"It is much easier at night," said Hans. "There are no stupid farmer's wagons to contend with or troublesome animal herds to dodge."

"How much farther?" Brachmann asked.

"About five kilometers," replied Hans. "How will we find this Covington?"

"It should not be too difficult," said Brachmann. "As an archaeologist she has very likely hired local laborers. If we spread a few drachmas around in the right places I think we will be able to learn what we want to know soon enough."

"We should be careful whom we ask," Hans reminded him. "The local authorities have probably become aware of the murder of the English archaeologist."

At the mention of Frailing Brachmann curled his upper lip into a snarl. "Stupid Zeissler!" This is all his fault."

"His ineptitude has certainly complicated matters," allowed Hans. "However I am confident we will make things right with our client in the end."

Brachmann stretched his arms behind his head as he tried to shake off the last effects of his nap. "Are you tired, Hans?" he asked. "If so, I can drive."

"No, I am fine."

Hans had driven all night but despite this Brachmann had fully expected that he would answer as he did. Brachmann regarded the taciturn Hans as a very valuable, almost indispensable part of his organization but he also looked upon him as being unusual, perhaps even a bit odd. Hans rarely spoke unless spoken to, he never seemed to tire or to need sleep and, most telling of all, had never, ever been known to express even the slightest interest in any of the beautiful Greek women who were so readily available in post war Greece to those with the proper means. Not that Brachmann cared. All that mattered to him was that Hans was loyal and very efficient at what he did.

Brachmann leaned back and let rested his head on the top of the car seat. He closed his eyes and once more began to drift back to the time before the war, back to his former life in Dresden. He had been born and raised there and there as a teacher he had made his living. It was also where he had met his beloved Anna.

Anna! My sweet, delicate rose! Oh God how I miss you!

The two of them had been married barely two months when war came but on the same day that England declared war on Germany Karl Brachmann had gone straight out and enlisted. Even now he could see the devastated look on Anna's face and how she had cried when he broke the news to her. Only looking back at in retrospect did he realize how that day had marked the end of his world. What humanity the ceaseless slaughter and the unimaginable savagery of the Eastern Front had not drained from him the death of his precious little Anna had. She, his mother and father and his grandmother too had all perished in the terrible fires that resulted from bombing of Dresden on the night of February 13, 1945.

Brachmann opened his eyes and began to stare out his window. Since the end of the war he had done quite well for himself, amassing a small fortune mostly through smuggling and the black market. There was nothing very cerebral about it. All it took was the proper amount of force and the guts to use it. Karl Brachmann had plenty of both.

"Five kilometers, boss."

Brachmann said nothing and only idly glanced at the faded road sign. It was the very one which Melinda and Kettering had passed the day before on their way in to Volos. At the moment his mind was not on Volos, stone tablets, silly little archaeologists, the pesky British or even money. Karl Brachmann's thoughts were on the gentle girl with the delightful personality and the incisive intellect that had captured and held his heart these many years. Yes, he was a prosperous man now but he would gladly have traded every last British pound he had if only he could go back to those happy days when a cheap two room apartment was his home and once more find his Anna waiting there at the door for him.

Hans veered to avoid a football sized rock that had rolled down onto the road and it was this that brought Brachmann back to the world as he now knew it. That other world, his dream world, the world where his Anna yet lived was gone now, pushed back into the shadowy recesses of his memory to be replaced by thoughts of the Covington woman and what he planned to do to her should she refuse to cooperate.

**********

In a cloud of dust Martin's sleek Peugeot 402 rolled to a stop only a few feet from where the two women were standing. The driver got out and Janice squinted her eyes in disgust at the sight of him. By anyone's standards Andrew Martin was a small man. In fact he and Janice were very nearly the same size with Martin outweighing her by but a few pounds. He wore glasses with thick black frames which he believed only served to enhance his appearance as an intellectual. Only twenty-eight, his hawkish nose and receding hair line combined to make him seem older than that and although not intentional, his lips seemed to form a perpetual smirk. Despite the likelihood of yet another unseasonably warm day he wore a black suit with buttoned jacket.

Janice watched him meticulously adjust his tie. "Christ," she muttered under her breath. Still, she could guess why he was there and this helped ease her irritation.

This animosity between Janice and Martin was hardly one sided. For his part he considered Janice Covington to be undisciplined and unprofessional, arrogant, ill tempered and, worst of all as far as he was concerned, totally lacking in the proper respect for those who were by rights her superiors. It galled him to no end that she pertinaciously refused to address him as Mister Andrews, instead crudely referring to him only by his surname. For these reasons and many more he enjoyed these trips about as much as a toothache. While the Pappas woman always seemed civil enough Covington's behavior in his mind was absolutely abominable, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. She never ceased to be contentious, always questioning him, always challenging his rightful authority.

Today, however, was different. Rounding the front of the car, he could truthfully say that on this day he was not unhappy to be there. Today, finally, Janice the Bitch was going to get her just desserts. "Good morning..." With a faint contemptuous smile Martin looked straight at Janice. "...ladies."

Of course Melinda was well aware of the bad blood between this man and her partner. She too had little use for this peevish little man. But, proper Southern lady that she was, she managed a polite if somewhat jerky nod and replied, "Good morning, Mister Andrews."

However no such courtesy would be forthcoming from Janice. "Martin," she caustically observed, "you're up early. Big day for you, huh?"

"Ahh, Covington," he snidely replied, "you have such powers of perception."

"Save it for somebody who gives a damn," said Janice. "We both know why you're here so spit it out and be done with it."

Martin flashed her a triumphant little smile. "I'm going to miss your eloquence so very much, Covington. But you see I do want to savor this little moment."

Keep it up, you little squirt, thought Janice, and you might get the chance to savor a knuckle sandwich.

"Mister Martin, Janice is right. If you've got something tuh say then by all means say it."

Surprised by Melinda's words, Martin turned to her and received another surprise when he saw the intensity with which she was looking at him. "Yes, uhh, by all means." Martin drew himself up to his full height, such as it was, and announced, "Covington, on behalf of the Wiggins Group you are hereby directed to shut down this site immediately and ship at once to our office in Athens all excavated artifacts."

"All right," said Janice. "But don't forget that these fellas here have four days pay coming to 'em."

"Or that you still owe Jan the balance of what was specified in her contract," Melinda chimed in.

"Not to worry," said Martin, eyeing her curiously. Never before had he seen Pappas this assertive. It made her...different somehow. Different and strangely...unnerving.

Reaching under his jacket, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to Janice. "This should take care of everything."

Janice lifted up the unsealed flap and ran her thumb across the tops of the bills stuffed inside.

"It's all there," Martin assured her.

"It's not that I don't trust you," said Janice, folding the envelope in half. This she then jammed into her back pocket and added, "But then again, maybe it is."

Any other time and Martin would have taken offense at Janice's barb but on this day there was nothing she could say or do that could make him angry. He idly swept his eyes across the barren mountain top. "I knew this was doomed to fail from the start," he casually remarked. "I warned them. What a waste of investors' money."

"Well you know how it is," said Janice. "Some people have this crazy notion that every now and then you have to take a chance."

Morton only blinked and Janice knew that she might as well have been speaking in Swahili. It was clear the ultraconservative Martin just did not get it. In fact she doubted if the man had ever taken a risk in his entire life.

"Tell your bosses I'm gonna need the truck for a few days," said Janice.

His victory complete, Martin felt he could afford to be at least a little charitable. "All right, Covington," he said. "I'm sure they won't mind."

With his happy duty now done Martin had no desire to linger on. With this Covington one could never be quite certain just what she would do next. Half-heartedly he said, "Good luck to you, ladies."

Neither Melinda nor Janice was surprised by his lack of an offer to shake hands.

"Don't think it hasn't been a little slice of heaven," Janice wryly replied. "'Cause it hasn't." Fuckin' little weasel!

Martin flashed her a quick, humorless little smile. "Charming to the end, eh, Covington? With that he took his leave of the two women, got in his car and drove away.

"Well, kid," said Janice, as she watched the Peugeot disappear around the curve, "so much for our obligations, huh?"

Melinda grinned at her and said, "Tuh tell you the truth, I was never so glad to get fired."

"That's my girl," said Janice. "Okay, Jack," she called out over her shoulder, "you can come out now."

Immediately Jack poked his head out of the tent. "Who was that guy?"

"Our former employer," replied Melinda.

However Janice's description of Martin was something different altogether. In virulence she thought, Him? An asshole, that's who!  
 

An hour later found Janice on her knees and pulling her pack out from under her cot. By now she had broken the unhappy news to her work crew and paid them their last wages. She did, however, hire her foreman Phillip and another man whom she trusted to stay and break up the camp and have it ready for transport by Martin's men. By that time Janice expected that she and Melinda would be long gone. And perhaps with a little luck they might even have some company.

But first things first. Plopping her pack on the cot, Janice yanked out Jack's clay tablet. "Okay," she said to Melinda, "go through and read the entire thing to me."

Melinda did as asked and when she was finished Jack scratched his head and said, "Does any of that make sense to you guys?"

"Well I think the double reference to alpha is pretty clear," said Melinda. "Or at least half of it."

"What are you thinking?" asked Janice.

"The part about bein' spurned by alpha can only mean Athens."

"Athens?"

"Uh huh."

"How do you know?" asked Jack.

"Harpalus had been a trusted friend of Alexander the Great since boyhood and as Chief Treasurer it was his responsibility to oversee the vast treasures that were being captured by his king in those Asian great campaigns. In the end, though, Harpalus betrayed Alexander's trust and began to keep some of this loot for himself."

"Started skimming a little off the top, huh?" Janet remarked. "Typical."

"Started skimming a lot off the top," Melinda came back.

"So what's the whole story on this guy? I've don't know all that much about him."

"Harpalus is at the center of somewhat celebrated mystery," said Melinda. "It is well known that Alexander was often less than attentive when it came to mundane administrative problems. Perhaps this explains the lack of supervision for the activities of his Chief Treasurer. At last, though, Harpalus' fortunes changed. At Carmania Alexander staged this big week-long drunken revel. Then he shocked everyone by ordering his satraps and generals to disband their mercenary armies."

"Fear of insurrection, I'd bet," Janice remarked.

"Yep," replied her friend. "This then began a period of punitive action against those officials who had been disobedient or negligent."

"Enter Harpalus," said Janice.

"He might have been Alexander's friend but he sure wasn't about to take any chances. So rather than stay and risk Alexander's wrath he decided to take it on the lam."

Her amusement evident, Janice repeated the last part of Melinda's sentence. "Take it on the lam?" It always surprised her when Melinda used such slang. In her mind it did not seem to become the raven haired beauty.

Unaware of this, Jack offered up, "Yeah, you know, he beat it, bugged out, scrammed."

Janice's only response was to dip her chin and roll her eyes as she momentarily glanced at him. "Okay," she said to Melinda, "so Harpalus made tracks before Alexander could rub him out. How much was he supposed to have stolen?"

"No one knows for certain but it's been written that it took several triremes to hold it all."

"What's a trireme? asked Jack.

"A three tiered ship," said Janice. "They were still the pinnacle of ship design at that time and had been the instrument Athenian naval dominance in Aegean almost a century B.C. before." To Melinda she said, "A trireme would have held a hell of a lot treasure."

"To be sure," agreed her friend. "Anyway, after fleeing Harpalus eventually sailed his little fleet to Athens. At first the Athenians denied him entrance because to let him in would have been tantamount to a declaration of war on Alexander. Considering the extent of Alexander's power this would have been darn near suicidal on the Athenians' part."

"So what did Harpalus do?" asked Janice.

"This is where things start to get fuzzy," said Melinda. "All that's really known for sure is that Harpalus sailed away and when he returned later it was with only one ship containing a mere seven hundred talents."

With a sentient gleam in her eye Janice said, "Don't tell me, let me guess. The rest of the treasure was never seen again."

"Not as far as anyone knows," Melinda answered. "And that's the mystery."

Remembering Melinda's revelation of the night before, Janice said, "Well with a little luck maybe it won't be a mystery for much longer."

"Harpalus was nothing if not persistent," said Melinda. "He later returned to Athens with the idea of convincing the city to form a coalition against Alexander. Now the Athenians were no fools. They still remembered how the Macedonians had brutally put down the rebellion in Thebes fourteen years before. They knew the danger of provoking Alexander. Nevertheless, they did have a powerful motivation to resist stemming from what was known as the Exiles Decree."

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"The Exiles decree required all cities in the Greek League except Thebes to allow all those who had been exiled to return along with their families," said Janice. She grinned at Melinda and said, "See? I do remember a little from my college days."

"Ostensibly it was an attempt by Alexander to remedy the problem of the thousands of nomadic mercenaries," said Melinda, continuing. "However the Athenians viewed it as a threat to their cleruchies on Samos because they had exiled the Samian population to make way for the Athenian settlers now there. They had already been forced to cede to Macedonia control of the cities in the north of Greece that had for years been under the influence of Athens."

"Including Amphipolis," said Janice. "Right?"

"Including Amphipolis," said Melinda. "And for many of them this latest affront was the last straw. Despite such a powerful motive Harpalus ultimately was unable to sway the Athenians into aligning themselves against Alexander."

"How could he?" Janice snorted. "By this time Alexander had already conquered much of the known world. How could one puny little city-state hope to resist?"

"Quite so," replied Melinda. "In the mean time the leaders of Athens decided to imprison Harpalus and turn him over to Alexander for punishment. Luckily for him he was able to make good his escape with the aid of some of those who had been in favor of his proposal. A by product of this affair was the downfall of the great Demosthenes. You see after the escape of Harpalus it was later discovered that half of the seven hundred talents that had been confiscated from him was missing and in the ensuing scandal it was this great orator who took the fall. For the man who had all his life fought so hard against Macedonian domination it was the end of his political career and he ultimately committed suicide."

"So what happened to this Harpalus character?" asked Jack.

"Well officially he kind of fades from history here," replied Melinda.

"Okay" said Janice, "so our boy steals a big chunk of Alexander's treasure and hauls ass to Athens. There he is turned away and when he comes back a second time he's thrown in the slammer before ultimately making his escape. Throw in the little matter of this mutiny..." Janice shook her head once and said, "The best laid plans..."

It fell to Melinda to put it in much more human terms. "Can you imagine how alone and afraid he must have felt?"

Janice was not sympathetic. "He should have thought of that before he decided to betray his king."

"What makes you think he didn't just go back, pick up his loot and retire to some nice little island somewhere?" asked Jack.

In her own unique way Janice took the words right out of Melinda's mouth when she replied, "Jack, where the hell could he have gone without Alexander sooner or later findin' out about it? I mean, the guy did pretty much rule most of the known world. If Harpalus had managed to hang on to even some of the treasure it would have been hard to escape Alexander's tendrils."

"For a stranger to show up anywhere bearing those kinds of riches would have been a thing that could hardly have been kept secret for long," Melinda added. "But twenty-three centuries have passed now. It's been a very long time."

Noting the intensity with which the two women were conversing, Jack sensed there was more here than a mere academic discussion of some long dead embezzler. Putting two and two together, he said, "Say, why are you so interested in all this? Why, if I didn't know you guys better I'd think you were actually going to look for this treasure or something."

Janice shot him a mischievous little grin and in a deliberate manner said, "Maybe you don't know us as well as you think you do."

"But you've got this site to excavate," said Jack.

"Not any more," Melinda happily informed him. "You see, we've been given the boot."

"Ohhh." Then the significance of Melinda's statement hit him and Jack's eyes grew wide. Suddenly things were now becoming a whole lot more interesting. This was what he had hoped for when he had gone looking for Janice and Melinda. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "You mean to say you are? You really are?"

"If we can figure this stone out," Janice answered. She lightly tapped him on the stomach with the back of her hand. "You wanna come?"

It was music to Jack's ears. "Do I?!" he excitedly asked. "Are you kiddin'?"

Teasing him, Melinda said, "Jan, ahh reckon we can take that as a yes. Golly, Jack, you really should show a little more enthusiasm."

"What about Poole?" Janice asked.

"Ahh, I'll send him a cable," replied Jack. Inside he could not get over his elation at being invited to join them.

"There might be trouble," warned Janice.

"Covington, I've been bombed, strafed, torpedoed and I was damn near roasted on that floating barbecue of a ship. How much worse could it get?"

"Well you can't say I didn't warn ya," said Janice. With that settled Janice turned her attention to Melinda. "Mel," she said approvingly, "you've really nailed this thing."

"Awww, it was easy once I saw both parts," Melinda modestly replied.

It fell to Jack to verbalize the thought that was on all their minds. "So, uhh, where are we goin'?"

Janice shook her head once and with a sigh said, "Not sure yet. But let's say I have ideas."

Suddenly, like a bolt of out the blue, Melinda blurted out, "Pydna!"

Her voice suddenly deeper and more assertive, Melinda added, "We have to go to Pydna."

With the tip of her index finger Janice slowly pushed back her hat far enough to where her intense green eyes could peer up at the belle. For a moment she was puzzled by Melinda's odd...request? No, it was not a request. Not the way her friend had framed it.

Naturally, though, her nimble mind quickly realized the significance of it all. That voice, that distant, distracted look in Melinda's eye could mean only one thing. This was another one of those moments. She was near! The indomitable spirit of the warrior woman that dwelt deep within the soul of the gentle Mel seemed to have once more awakened. It had been so long now that she had almost forgotten. Not since their mission to Austria in the spring of '45 had they felt the unmistakable power of Xena's presence. For Janice this was a cause of extreme concern because if her spirit did indeed fell compelled to arise here and now more it could only mean one thing--trouble!

For Melinda things were not quite so clear because the next thing she knew Janice was for some reason sharply calling out her name. "Mel!"

Melinda blinked a couple of times before answering, "Huh?"

"I said what makes you say that?" said Janice, repeating the question Melinda had not heard originally. Her question was supererogatory because she already knew the answer.

Puzzled, Melinda asked "Say what?"

"You still sleepy or something?" asked Jack. "You said Pydna."

"I did? Ohh. Sorry, I must have been thinking out loud."

Janice knew better. "Uhh huhh," she grunted.

"Wait a minute," said Jack. "Where did this Pydna thing come from?"

At the moment Janice had no desire for lengthy explanations so she merely replied, "Call it a hunch."

Melinda was more accommodating. "It's like what I talked to you about last night, Jack."

It took another moment or two but Jack finally made the connection. "Ohhhhh."

Turning her attention back to her partner, Melinda said, "Remember yesterday when you told me to find something to occupy my mind? Well I wasn't really thinking about Millie. For a moment I felt her presence then as well. Ah reckon I should have told you."

"I was wondering about that," said Janice. The outward expression on the smaller woman's face did not change all that much but had Jack been able to see her eyes he would have been startled by the expression of tenderness now there. "You okay?" When the lanky beauty nodded that she was Janice went back to her original train of thought. "We're going to go see Kettering. He might be more willing to play ball when he finds out we have the other half of his little puzzle."

"Where is this Pynda?" asked Jack.

"About a hundred miles straight up the Aegean coastline," answered Janice.

Jack was persistent. "But why Pydna?" he asked.

"I can't explain it. But in my heart I know Pydna is the place we ought to be."

Janice eyed her with curiosity for a moment before breaking into a little half--grin. "Pydna, huh?"

"Yeah," the belle softly answered. From deep within her a voice echoed, Be careful!

"But, how will we know where to look once we get there?" asked Jack.

It was a legitimate question and one for which Melinda had no real answer. Janice did. "That's why we're going to look up Kettering. I'll bet once we put the two stones together we'll know everything."

Looking up at the belle, Janice asked, "So, are you still game?"

Melinda was game all right but not still completely sold on her own idea. But then she thought, Well, who am I to argue with the spirits of my ancestors? "Yeah, I'm ready when you are."

"All right," said Janice. "That's settled once and for all. Now let's pay a little visit to one Mister Miles Kettering.

Chapter Eight
An hour later found the three of them ready to go. It had not taken Janice and Melinda long to load both their meager belongings and what few artifacts that had been found into the old truck. The remainder of that time had been spent waiting for Janice's two hired men to show up. After giving these men their final instructions Janice yanked open the door to the truck and slid in behind the wheel.

"I've got shotgun!" Jack chortled. As it was this was hardly a victory for Jack because this was to have been his spot in any event. Janice had already decided that she was going to have someone bumping up against her all day inside that rickety truck that person was most assuredly going to be her sweet Melinda and not the oftentimes irksome Jack.

With Jack gallantly opening the passenger side door, Melinda settled in beside her lover. Once inside she was forced to stretch her long legs off to the right so as not to impede Janice's handling of the gear shift. By the time Jack got in Janice was already depressing the starter switch. The truck sputtered to life and for what would be the very last time she and Melinda began the long trip down the mountain. As the drove away both felt a certain amount of regret for not having accomplished more but for each of them this was tempered by the knowledge they had done their absolute best. In the field of archaeology these things happened. After all, not every dig yielded a Tutankhamen's tomb.

When they reached the foot of the mountain where their road teed off into the main road Janice turned left and headed east, toward Volos. A kilometer outside the city they met a sedan heading in the opposite direction. Of course Brachmann and his henchman, Hans, had no idea the driver of the sputtering old truck was in fact the very person they were looking for. Indeed both of them barely gave the truck a second glance as it went past. Having learned the location of Janice's site from a fish peddler in the market place, these men were intent on not missing the cutoff they were supposed to take. Before long they found it. Upon nearing the mountain road, Hans pulled the car off to the side and stopped. A few moments later he turned off and started the ascent up the mountain with both he and his boss as yet unaware that their quarry was already gone.

**********

Janice Covington brought the truck to a stop and leaned forward with her forearms against the steering wheel. Peering up at the run down, two story building inn through the dusty windshield, the archaeologist said to Melinda, "You're sure this is where you took him?"

"Yes, Jan," Melinda patiently answered. "This is the place all right. Room number eight."

It's not exactly the Hilton, is it?" Janice remarked as she yanked on the door handle. "You guys wait here. Jack, hand me the stone."

Jack did as asked and together he and Melinda watched as Janice tucked the stone under her arm and left. "What's she up to?" he asked, as he watched the lithe woman bound up the inn's steps.

"With Jan one can never be sure but if I were a bettin' woman I'd say she's gonna ask Mister Kettering to join us," replied Melinda.

"Say, who is he anyway?" Jack asked.

Melinda proceeded to fill Jack in on the details of the two women's encounter with the British archaeologist. from the previous day.

When she finished Jack rubbed his unshaven chin and pronounced, "Sounds pretty far-fetched if ya ask me. I'm surprised Covington bought into it."

Melinda had a ready answer for him. "Is it as far-fetched as believing that the god of war from Greek mythology actually exists?"

"Well okay, you have me there," Jack conceded. "But all the same I think there's something mighty fishy about it. We'd be smart not to turn our backs on this Kettering character."

For her part Melinda Pappas thought that to be very wise counsel indeed.  
 

Inside the hotel Janice walked briskly down the second floor hall until she came a door marked by a tarnished "8." In much the same manner as she had rapped Jack on the head earlier in the morning so now did she knock on the door to Kettering's room. When there was no reply on the first attempt Janice knocked again. "Kettering." Again there was no answer so Janice knocked again. In louder tones she repeated, "Kettering!"

Finally there came a muffled, "Who's there?"

"It's Covington."

From inside Janice could hear the creaking of floorboards as someone made their way across the room. "Covington? Go away. We have nothing more to discuss."

To Janice the voice emanating from just inside the door hinted of surprise and not a little dismay. She was right. Kettering had not expected this volatile woman to come pounding on his door so quickly. "Oh we've got a hell of a lot to talk about," she said. "Now why don't you be a good boy and open this door?"

"It was a straightforward business transaction," insisted Kettering. "I-I paid your friend a fair price--more than fair--for her services." Naturally he assumed this was her purpose for being there. "I gave her damn near the last shilling I had. Now please go away or I shall be forced to shout for help."

Exasperated and a little disgusted by his whining, Janice thought, Jeez, what a candy ass! It was now apparent to her that Miles Kettering was on of those jittery souls who saw peril at every turn and consequently she began to wonder if perhaps those many "attempts" on his life had not all been imagined. For a just a moment she contemplated kicking in the door. However she knew this would only cause a disturbance within the hotel so after a moment she changed her mind and decided to try another tack. "Look, Kettering," she said reassuringly, "I'm not here about that. I've got something here I want to show you. It's an artifact that I know you'll be interested in."

There was a dull click and Janice saw the door open perhaps an inch. With the door chain still firmly in place Kettering cautiously peeked through the crack. Part of him still wanted to yell for help but another part of him--the archaeologist in him--was also curious enough to wonder what it might be that Covington could deem so "interesting."

"This had better not be a trick, Covington, because if it is--"

Before Kettering could finish the sentence Janice pulled the tablet out from under her arm and held it up to where he could get a good look at it. "Does this look like a trick?"

As soon as he saw it Kettering guessed what it was and the thought utterly astounded him. And as it had the previous day in Janice's tent, his composure now momentarily left him. "Good heavens!" he cried.

Despite herself Janice could help but display a little smugness. "Uh huhh, so you do know what it is."

It took Kettering a couple of fumbling seconds to free the door chain from the slot but at last he was able to manage it. Forgetting all his previous anxiety he threw the door open and, with a wide sweep of the arm, gestured for Janice to step inside. "Wh-where did you get that?" he asked.

In handing him the stone, Janice chose to be nebulous with her reply. "You might just say it sorta fell in my lap. Or rather, on my foot!"

"The other half of the inscription? I don't believe it," said Kettering, brushing his fingertips across the stone's rough surface. "In doing my research I came across one or two references to the second stone but I never dreamed it had survived, or that someone might actually find it. It's amazing, Covington." Suddenly his enthusiasm vanished quicker than water in the desert sand, only to be replaced by the stark realization of just what the ramifications were for the existence of such a replication "I rather suppose," he said morosely, "that you and I are competitors now."

For the Brit this was a disturbing thought indeed. Although an intelligent man, Kettering would have been the first to admit that he could not hope to match Covington's cunning resourcefulness much less her intensity and relentless drive. He had heard more than one man marvel at her almost uncanny ability to get things done. While not sure if Janice could move mountains, some of those same men were quite certain that she could in fact move fair sized hills. Kettering knew just how formidable this woman could be.

However at the moment an adversarial role was not what Janice had in mind. In a measured reply she said, "It doesn't have to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like you said yesterday we need each other. My offer's still on the table. Everybody as equal partners. So whaddaya say?"

For a moment he did not say anything. It just did not seem fair to him. For nigh on to ten years he had worked and dreamed, planned and schemed--just waiting for this opportunity to unfold. Now it was here. If it was a pie he could have smelled its delicious aroma. And now--now that he was so close that he could almost reach out and touch it this tempestuous woman had had the whole damn thing, as she had so aptly put it, fall right on her. But Kettering was also a realist and as the old adage advises that, "Half a loaf is better than none," so too did he begin to figure that a third interest would be better than being shut out completely. "It's just as well," he finally admitted. "Even with your friend's translation I did not gain as much insight as I had hoped. Partners it is."

To seal the deal the two of them then shook hands. As Kettering handed the stone back to Janice the remark he made reflected perfectly his hopes for their endeavor. "May one month hence find the three of us wallowing in our new found riches."

In an odd sort of way Janice relished what she was now about to do. I might as well tell him now, she thought. I wouldn't want him to have a heart attack in front of Mel. Melinda was right--her lover did enjoy a good confrontation.

"You mean four," said Janice, matter-of-factly. "There are four of us now."

For Kettering this was too much. "Good God, woman!" he huffed. "What are you doing, taking out advertisements in the local paper?"

It was all Janice could do to suppress a grin at this one. "An old pal of ours from before the war unexpectedly turned up yesterday," she calmly informed him.

"Who gives a bloody damn?" Kettering testily shot back. "This isn't Miss Piloto's Home for Derelict Writers you know."

Janice had to admit that when he was angry Kettering could be down right funny in a pompous sort of way. She would have to remember that. "Maybe not," she retorted. "All the same he gets an equal cut."

"What do you take me for?" Kettering testily asked. "A fool? I know when I'm being buggered."

With a wicked little smirk Janice said, "Do you now?"

For the beleaguered Kettering there was no doubt about it. The woman was simply maddening! So it was that he now felt compelled to quickly add, "Well figuratively of course."

"Look," said Janice, "it's because of our friend that we now have this second stone." Naturally the archaeologist was of the opinion that the less said about poor Frailing's role in the matter, the better.

"Confound it, Covington, why do you insist on this continual provocation?" Kettering shook his head vigorously and said, "No. This is where I put my foot down."

Now it was Janice's turn to become angry. "Awww fuck you, Kettering! You can blow a gasket for all I care. I don't give a big rat's ass whether you go or not. Either way the guy's coming along. I tried my damndest to be fair about this but since you wanna be a little prick about it, well up yours, you pompous little twerp. It's every man for himself now, Junior."

The irate Janice turned to go when Kettering caught her by the arm. "Wait!" It was no use. Without this woman he did not stand a chance of recovering the treasure and he knew it.

Janice glared at him and for a moment it looked to Kettering as if she meant to do him bodily harm. Fortunately for him Janice had no such intention, which gave him the chance to snap, "Oh very well! Have it your own bloody way!" Bravely he then managed a weak grin. "As you Yanks would say you've put me behind the eight ball."

"Nope," Janice matter-of-factly replied. "Just being fair."

"Just give me a minute or two to get my things together," said Kettering.

"Take your time," said Janice. "There's no rush. We'll be out front."

Even so there remained one last little issue that needed to be addressed. Something that in Janice's mind could not wait. Pausing at the door, she turned and said, "Oh, there's just one more thing."

Now what?"

"You took advantage of my friend yesterday. I don't like that. Try it again and I'll kick your ass so far up between your shoulder blades you'll need to unbutton your collar just to take a crap, and you can take that to the bank."

"Making threats is not the most ideal way to begin a new partnership, you know," Kettering coolly replied.

"Oh that's not a threat," Janice promptly assured him. "That's a promise."

"I told you it was a straight business transaction," said Kettering.

"Call it what you want," Janice said with a shrug. "Just make goddamn sure you watch your step around her from now on."

"All right, Covington," said Kettering in all earnestness. "You have my word."

Janice seemed satisfied by this. "Okay then," she said. "Just so we understand each other."

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"North," Janice tersely replied.

"Are you aware there have been reports of fighting along the Loudias River?"

"What's the matter?" Janice dryly asked. "You're not going to let a few Reds keep you from all that moolah, are you? I know I'm sure as hell not." With that she stepped out into the corridor and was gone.

For a moment Miles Kettering just stood there staring after her, both mystified and amazed. That, he thought, is without question the most unique individual I have ever met. In his mind even Lord Hanley paled in comparison to her. However, as to whether that meant she was the most able or simply the craziest remained to be seen.

Perhaps, he thought wryly, it's both.  
 

Five minutes later the three Americans watched as Kettering trudged down the front steps of the hotel. For him it seemed as if all his troubled life had been but a prelude to this, what should have been his crowning moment. But a fellow countryman had once written something about the best laid plans and no one understood that better than Miles Kettering.

Silently he lamented his double setback. Of all the blasted luck! He wondered how it was possible that this Covington woman had been able to solve the riddle of the Amazon's cradle in less than a day while in that same time he had drawn only a frustrating blank. Worse, with the appearance of this second stone he did not even have that to play as a trump card anymore. Life, he thought sadly, is a bastard.

Not taking her eyes off Kettering as he approached, Janice spoke. "Jack?"

"Huh?"

"There isn't room up here for the four of us. Why don't you sit in the back and keep Kettering company."

Trying to hide his disappointment, Jack replied, "Uhh, okay. Sure." His reluctance was not so much that he minded sitting back there in the dusty bed of the truck. Indeed in his search for his two friends he had spent many a ride in just this fashion. Rather, it was because of the sweet soul sitting next to him. Jack enjoyed sitting next to the engaging Melinda very, very much. She was sooo nice and now that Jack had seen her again was more beautiful than even he remembered.

Most women never gave him a second glance but Melinda was kind and attentive and when they talked had a way of making him feel like he was the only guy on the planet. Jack Klienman liked that feeling. Still, if Covington wanted him to get in the back, he would get in the back. As usual this was her show.

Jack was already in the bed of the truck by the time Kettering joined them. "Hi," he said, holding out his hand. "Jack Klienman, Hoboken, New Joisey."

Still sulking from his most recent misfortune, the Brit paid was in no mood at the moment to make any new friends, especially this pasty faced fellow whom he regarded as nothing more than a crass interloper, undeserving of inclusion in this affair. And so it was that instead of Kettering's hand thrust into his own it was his battered old leather bag instead.

"Put that away for me," Kettering said curtly.

Easy going fellow that he was, Jack readily complied. However when he looked back up he found himself in for a surprise. Kettering had slipped into the cab of the truck beside Melinda was already pulling the door shut!

What the......?

The startled Jack was certain Janice would right away set this puffed up palooka straight but he received yet another surprise when Janice said nothing at all. When she started up the truck he thought, What the hell is goin' on here? Janice, having already taken the wind from Kettering's sails, had no real desire to knock down the mast as well. All this could be sorted out later but at the moment she had more important things to worry about than what the damn seating arrangements were.

Janice popped the clutch a little too fast as the truck pulled out, forcing Jack to catch the wall of the bed for support. Easing himself down onto the floor, he sulkily muttered, "Damn it, I've got just as much right to be up there as he does. More in fact." Jack, he thought, you should change your name to Elevator. You're always gettin' the shaft anyway.

On the floor he saw a rusty old lug nut lying beside him. In disgust he snatched this up and threw it out the back of the truck. Still fuming, he happened to glance up at the cab window. There, half turned in her seat and looking back at him, was Melinda. Her lips were pressed together in a tight, apologetic little smile and the effect on Jack was to completely melt away all his anger. At least somebody cares, he thought. Just knowing that made the rough ride a little easier for him to bear.

All the remainder of that day they slowly made their way northwest, up the torturous road toward Larissa. As Janice saw it there was no need to hurry. After all, the road was not in good condition and they were not in a race. Given the tenuous condition of their vehicle, the important thing was to just get there.

Inside the cab little was said as they wended their way north. Janice, intent on negotiating the many treacherous twists and turns the road presented, was in no mood for conversation. Of course Melinda recognized this and so she spent the time quietly sitting their with her hands folded in her lap. She certainly had no desire to speak to the mistrustful man on her right. Kettering might be their partner now but as far as the belle was concerned it would be a cold day in hell before she had any more to do with him. As for Jack it was probably for the best that he, as the most talkative person of the four, was in the back. In light of the present mood permeating the group it was highly likely that somebody's nerves would have become frayed before very long. As it was he spent much of the first day coping with the incessant jarring and dozing away the miles as best he could.

Had Janice known what was behind her she might have been more inclined to pick up the pace. Brachmann and Hans had sniffed out their trail and by the middle of the afternoon were steadily closing ground on them. Back on the mountain top the two Germans had found Phillip and his helper none too cooperative at first. However the Greeks' attitude had changed very quickly once Brachmann, frustrated at having missed yet again, unleashed an all too willing Hans on Phillp's hapless helper. With Brachmann holding the frightened Greeks at gun point Hans had proceeded to coldly and efficiently beat the unfortunate man senseless, leaving him quivering in a pool of his own blood.

After this, it was not surprising that Phillip had sung like a canary. Even so, except for a couple of names and the description of the truck they were driving, what information Brachmann was able to extract had been sketchy at best and that they were now so close to overtaking Janice and her party was due as much to blind guesswork as it was to deductive reasoning. Whatever the reason, they were no more than a half an hour behind when Janice and her companions suddenly began to hear a strange whine coming from underneath the truck.

"What is that?" Melinda asked.

"I hope it's not what I think it is," Janice ominously replied.

No sooner had she spoken when they heard a metallic thump followed by the sound of something dragging along. Even before the truck began to perceptively slow Janice knew what had happened. "Son of a bitch," she muttered in disgust.

Pulling over to the side of the road, Janice angrily thrust open her door and got out. Outside she fell to her knees and peered under the truck. What she saw was what exactly well knew she would see. The drive shaft had become disconnected from the rear axle, its back end lying uselessly on the ground. "Son of a bitch!"

On the other side of the truck Jack too was surveying the damage. Wrinkling his nose, he said, "Gee, looks like we've lost a U-joint."

Very good, Einstein! thought Janice. However she knew Jack was only trying to be helpful so all she said aloud was a restrained, "Yeah."

She felt Melinda's warm hand on her shoulder. "Is it bad?" the belle asked.

Janice rose to her feet. "It's bad," she said, as she dusted off her hands. "But nothing that can't be fixed."

"Hey I can do it for you," Jack cheerfully offered.

Perhaps he could, she thought. He might even be able to do it right. But Janice was not about to take a chance. "That's okay," she said. "I'll do it."

"Then I suggest you make the necessary repairs and let's get moving again," Kettering said tartly.

Pal, thought Jack, you're makin' it awfully hard for me to like you! However the reply he heard Janice give to the Brit was one that he found extremely gratifying.

She too had not cared for his tone. "Have you got a universal joint?" she snapped back.

"Of course not," Kettering said with a snort.

"Well then pipe down and let me handle this."

"Can't you just put the old one back in?" asked Melinda.

Janice shook her head. "Naw, kid," she patiently replied. "It's to hell and gone by now. Even if we did find it, it's too worn to hold."

"What'll we do then?"

Her voice filled with resignation, Janice sighed, "I'll just have to find another one."

"Where? In Volos?"

"We're closer to Larissa than to Volos," the archaeologist said. "I'm sure I can find one there."

Melinda nodded thoughtfully and said, "Well let's get started. Maybe we'll get lucky and catch a ride."

Janice shot her an incredulous little half grin. "Ohhh no," she said. "You're not going."

"But, Ja-yun, you just said--"

"I just said I will find us one," said Janice, forcefully cutting her off. "You, my friend, are gonna stay right here."

"Jaaaaa--yun!"

Janice took Melinda by the arm and began to walk her away from the others. "Look, Mel, it may turn out to be a long walk. I'd feel much better if you stayed here. After all, there's no sense in both of us going and besides..." Janice paused and leaned in close. "...I need you here to keep an eye on Kettering. I mean, you don't really think we should leave him here with those tablets, do ya?"

"But Jack will be here," Melinda weakly protested.

Janice looked askance at her and softly said, "Meeeeel."

It was no use and Melinda Pappas knew it. As usual Janice's assessment of the situation was dead on. To leave the wily Kettering alone with Jack and the tablets would just be begging for a double cross. Slumping her shoulders in resignation, Melinda gloomily sighed, "All right."

"Atta girl," said Janice with a smile.

"I still don't like it," said Melinda.

Larissa can't be more than a few miles up the road," said Janice. "With a little luck I'll make it up there and back by nightfall."

"And if you're not?"

Janice grinned at her. "Don't be such a worrier."

"I reckon I can't help it," Melinda softly replied. The belle took a long look up the road; in her own heart Janice fully understood the underlying message being sent here. Melinda's concern was not for herself but for Janice--the vibrant bundle of energy that was so very dear to her.

"Mel," Janice assured her, "I'll be all right. Now you guys just sit tight and wait."

As Melinda nodded Janice spoke again. "I'll pick up something to eat while I'm in town."

"Okay."

"Once I get there I shouldn't have any trouble hiring somebody to bring me back out here."

"I'm sure you won't."

From behind they heard Kettering's exasperated voice. "Covington!"

Over her shoulder Janice barked, "In a minute!" Turning back to Melinda she asked "How much money have you got?"

"A few drachmas and about forty dollars in American money," Melinda answered.

Janice ran her hand into her pocket and, again leaning close, deftly put something into Melinda's hand. "Here," she said, "take this too."

"What's this?" Melinda asked.

"It's that twenty pounds you gave me yesterday," Janice explained. "Don't look at it. Just stick it in your pocket."

"But--why?"

"Ya never know," said Janice, "it may come in handy."

"Well okay," Melinda said reluctantly, "if you--"

"Covington!"

At this, Janice closed her eyes and began to clench her teeth. Muttering, she said, "If this keeps up I know another archaeologist who could end up being murdered."

"Janice, that's not very nice." Despite everything Melinda had to flash a little smile at this.

Turning, Janice began to approach Kettering. "All right, Kettering, what is it?"

"What are we going to do about this?" the man asked.

"We aren't going to do anything," Janice replied. "I'm going on to Larissa while you three wait here."

"Why don't we all go?" asked Jack.

"Here we haven't gone forty kilometers and things are a bloody mess already," the Brit huffed.

Ignoring him, Janice explained to Jack, "We can't carry all our stuff and we can't leave it here." Jack nodded and Janice went on to add, "Besides, you guys will only slow me down. I can make much better time alone."

Jack Klienman had no doubt about that. In the navy he had seen very many young men who were in tough and in excellent physical condition but for sheer endurance and the will to persevere he would have put his money on Janice against any of them.

When Kettering mumbled something indecipherable and walked around to the other side of the truck Janice immediately took advantage of his absence. Her voice low, she said, "Listen, Jack, I want you and Mel here to watch out for that guy. I want one of you keeping an eye on him at all times, especially around the tablets."

"You think he might try something funny?" Jack asked.

Janice answered him with a question of her own. "Who can say? It might depend on how desperate he becomes. All I know is you can't trust the guy as far as you can throw him."

"Amen to that," Melinda mumbled.

"What if he decides he doesn't want to hang around?"

"Let him go," said Janice. "Provided he doesn't try to leave with the tablets."

"Not even his?" Melinda asked.

Janice looked hard at her and replied, "Not even his."

"Well that ought to keep him around," allowed Jack.

"That's what I'm counting on," said Janice. "One more thing. I'm going to leave my gun here. It's--"

Alarmed, Jack hissed, "Jesus Christ! You don't expect me to shoot him, do ya?"

"No, damn it," said Janice. "But in case you've forgotten there's a war going on and, well, you never know who might come rolling down that road."

The concern in Melinda's voice was plainly evident as she asked "But what about you?"

Janice confidently replied, "Now, Melinda Pappas, you know darn well I can take care of myself. Jack, the gun is in my bag under the seat. Don't go near it unless you need it."

"You can be sure of that," said Jack.

"If somebody should happen to stop and offer to help, just tell 'em help is on the way. Under no, repeat no circumstances are either of you two to leave the truck, understand?" Her two friends nodded that they did. "Okay, if you take it easy on the water you should have plenty to do you." Then, satisfied that she had covered all contingencies, Janice smiled at Melinda and said, "Don't worry, nothing's going to happen."

Standing there with her lover about to leave, Melinda wanted to kiss the woman so very badly but with Jack standing right next to them and Kettering only a few feet farther away she could not work up the courage to do so.

This was why she was so delighted when Janice said to her, "Walk with me for a little way?"

"Of course."

Together the two women began to walk up the road. With Janice having already covered most everything there was very little left to say and so it was mostly in silence that the two lovers made their way up the road.

"It's lovely out here," Melinda observed after a couple of minutes.

Janice was much less appreciative. "I suppose," she said idly. "But I'd rather be watchin' it pass by through a windshield instead of having to hike my way through it."

After moving up the road about a hundred yards they came to a clump of trees standing alongside the road. Following Janice's lead, Melinda left the road and with her moved in among the trees to a place where they could not be seen back at the truck.  
 

Back at the truck Kettering emerged from behind the vehicle and stepped out into the road. "I thought Covington said she was going alone."

Annoyed at being stranded with such an unlikable character, Jack impatiently replied, "She is."

"Well I don't see either of them out there," remarked the Brit. He formed a crooked little grin and said, "Those two are quite the little pair, aren't they?"

From the tone of Kettering's voice Jack recognized that the man was hardly being complimentary. "And just what's that crack supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on," Kettering scoffed. "Surely you're not as blind as that. Why, one would have to be a fool not to see it."

"Look, Mac, if you've got something to say, spit it out."

And so the archaeologist did. Snidely he said, "Haven't you noticed the way they look at each other, how they're always touching each other? I would bet my degree those two are sharing more than the morning coffee."

"Huh?"

"My God, man, they're lovers. Must I draw you a picture?"

His words struck Jack like a thunderbolt. Over the course of the last twenty-four hours he had been struck by how close the pair seemed to have become. Even so, had not really given it much thought. After all, two people who had been together as long as they and had been through as much as they had were bound to find themselves drawn closer together. During the war Jack had seen for himself how close those who had faced danger together could become. However, the more he thought on Kettering's words the more he came to realize just how right the man might be. Perhaps Janice and Melinda were indeed beyond close. My God! he thought. What if they are? This in itself was disconcerting enough for him but his mounting anxiety was compounded even further by the fact that at the moment he was not quite sure what to think about that.

Nevertheless, Jack felt obligated to come to the aid of his friends. How he felt about his revelation would have to be sorted out later. "Even if they are lo-- what you said, it's none of our business. Besides, what do you care?"

Kettering, unruffled by the American's sharp reply, smugly asked "My, aren't we the sensitive one?" Now I wonder whyyyyyy. Awwww, it couldn't possibly be because you perhaps had designs on one of the good ladies, now would it?"

Jack Kleinman was by nature not a violent man. However right at this moment he had never in his life wanted so badly to punch somebody in the nose. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that, down deep inside, Jack had to admit there was, or had been, some measure of truth in what the Brit said. What man would not want to have Melinda Pappas for his own? Never quick with a comeback, Jack was left only with a lame, "You're nuts. They're my friends. You see, pal, we've worked together before. I'm here because they asked me to come."

"Well I sure as hell didn't invite you," Kettering said testily.

Here was an opening even Jack could take advantage of. With a sly little grin he said, "You know what I think? I think you're sore because you're not the one calling the shots here. And just lookin' at it I'd say that what you want doesn't seem to count for a whole hell of a lot with Janice, now does it?"

"Bloody Yanks," Kettering growled. "Think the sun rises and falls on their bloody asses." With that he stalked over and sat down under a plane tree, leaving Jack alone to stare up the road and turn over and over in his mind this idea, strange as it might have been to him, that two women could indeed be lovers.  
 

Back in the trees Janice moved in close and lightly put a hand to Melinda's receptive breast. "Look uhhh, I didn't want to go without giving you a proper good-bye."

Melinda took the hand into her both her own and softly kissed it. "Oh, Jan," she cooed, "do be careful."

In one of those moments that occurred only when she and Melinda were totally alone, Janice momentarily dropped the bravado and wrapped her arms around the statuesque belle. Together the two lovers shared first a warm embrace, followed by a lingering, very tender kiss. When their lips finally parted Janice capped off the sublime moment by ever so lightly kissing the dark haired beauty on the tip of the nose. Taking off her hat, she put her head on Melinda's chest and with a husky whisper declared, "Melinda Pappas, I do love you so!"

Neither spoke as for a few precious moments Melinda gently stroked Janice's long blonde hair. No one knew better than she that what Janice was about to do could very well end up being something other than an ordinary walk into town. There was a real element of danger here. Civil war had boiled over in Greece, leaving the birthplace of democracy in turmoil. Trouble had proven itself capable of arising anywhere. Who knew where it would pop up next?

Lovingly resting her chin on the top of Janice's head, Melinda quietly implored, "Jan, I want you to play this one close to the vest, you hear? Don't you go risking your life over some stupid treasure. Just come back to me, that's all I ask. You're all the treasure I ever want or need."

With one final hug the two at last reluctantly separated and once more Janice was her old brash self again. "Don't worry, about that, kid," she said. "I'd walk through hell in a gasoline suit just to see you again." Then the archaeologist turned much more serious. "Mel, I'm counting on you to keep Kettering straight. You know how Jack is so don't let Kettering talk him or you into doing anything before I get back. Stay here and wait."

With a nod of the head Melinda assured her, "I understand,"

"Good." Janice looked deeply into those enchanting blue eyes that she knew so well. "You know, you don't deserve to be stuck out here like this. You should be on a beach somewhere, sipping wine and soaking up the sun, instead of out here in the middle of nowhere sweating away the day with a crab and a kook. In a rare display of vulnerability her breathless voice hinted of wonder and amazement as she said, "God, I don't see how you put up with me the way you do."

Melinda broke into a big smile and said, "That's an easy one." To show what she meant Melinda leaned over and kissed Janice again. "I love you, Jan, and I always will."

Together they shared one final embrace and then it was time. "I gotta go," said Janice.

"I know."

With Janice leading the way the two women wound their way out of the clump of trees and back out onto the road. "See you later," Janice said with a wink. And she was off.

"I could go for some dolmas," Melinda playfully called out after her.

Without turning around Janice held up her hand and waved acknowledgment of her friend's parting words. For a few moments Melinda remained there, alone, watching as her Janice rapidly put distance between them with the brisk pace that was so characteristic of the way the woman took on life. Soon Janice disappeared among the trees. Casting one final glance up the road, Melinda silently said a little prayer for the safety of the one that was the focus of her existence before striding back down the road to rejoin Jack and Kettering.

Chapter Nine
For the tenth time since they left Volos, Karl Brachmann checked his watch. "It has been over three hours now. Perhaps we should try another route."

"I do not think so," said Hans. "This is the main road between Volos and Larissa. It is here that we stand the best chance of finding them."

"From what that fat Greek told us we should have overtaken them by now," fretted Brachmann. "Their vehicle is old and in bad shape. It could not possibly out run us."

"Ahh but the road is very bad in places," Hans reminded him. "That evens matters considerably. Even our Schützenpanzerwagens might have had trouble making good time on this road."

The impatient Brachmann was forced to admit that, as usual, Hans was right. "Is it possible we could have missed them somewhere?" he asked.

"It is not very likely," Hans replied. "If I were them I would want to make Larissa as soon as possible. That means keeping to the main road. I think they will want to keep to the main roads for now."

Fools! thought Brachmann. Why would they want to risk traveling into a potential war zone? What could possibly be worth risking their lives for?

It was then that his thoughts were broken up by the unflappable Hans' voice. "Well well well, what have we here?"

Brachmann peered through the dusty windshield. There, about two hundred yards up the road, he saw a parked truck which perfectly matched the description given by the Greek, Phillip. At last! he thought.  
 

Jack was the first to notice the approaching car. In the forty minutes since Janice's departure there had been only one other vehicle to pass their way. Of course how much traffic there was had no direct bearing on him--Janice's instructions had made that clear. Nevertheless he had hoped to see more vehicles because that would increase the chances for Janice herself to catch a ride.

For himself Jack had picked out a spot on the shady side of the truck next to the right rear wheel. Kettering was still sulkily planted under the plane tree a few yards away while Melinda had retreated to the cab of the truck where she too had some shade and the seat was comparatively soft.

At first Jack paid scant attention to the car, thinking it would simply pass on by. That soon changed, however, when to his mild surprise the car pulled off the road and slowed to a stop right behind the truck. By now, of course, both Melinda and Kettering were also aware of the car. Seeing the men get out, Melinda eased her lanky body out of the truck and joined Jack who was now standing by the tail gate of the truck. Kettering, innately suspicious and there at the tree cut off from the others, stood up but stayed where he was.

As the men approached Jack lowered his head and murmured, "Let me do the talking."

Sizing them up as he approached, Brachmann thought, They are definitely not Greeks. It must be them! "Good afternoon," he said in perfect English. "Are you having some sort of mechanical difficulty?"

"We had a U-joint go out," said Jack. "Our drive shaft came loose."

"Ahh, that is too bad," said Brachmann. His eyes drinking in the lovely sight that was Melinda, he said, "Might my friend and I be of some assistance?"

"That's okay," said Jack, subtly positioning himself between the man and Melinda, "we've got help comin.'"

"My friend and I will gladly give you a ride into Larissa," Brachmann offered. "It would be much easier on the lady if she waited there while your truck is being repaired."

There was something about this man that Kettering did not like. Slowly, very carefully, be began to edge away toward the undergrowth a few yards distant. Hans, however, was watching the archaeologist's every move out of the corner of his eye.

"You're very kind," said Melinda. "But really, I'm quite comfortable here."

"Yeah, we had better wait here," said Jack. "Thanks anyway, Mac."

Brachmann reached inside his jacket. "In that case..." He pulled out his pistol and stuck the end of the barrel right between Jack's eyes. "...I am afraid I'm going to have to insist."

Putting her hand to her mouth in dismay, Melinda softly cried, "Ohhh my."

At the first sight of the gun Kettering bolted toward the underbrush. Behind him he heard someone swear an oath in German. It was Hans.

"Get him!" Brachmann yelled in German.

The slow-footed Kettering was no match for the athletic Hans and as a result was caught before he had gone ten yards. Seizing the Brit by the collar, Hans threw him to the ground whereupon he angrily kicked him twice in the ribs. "Sohn einer Hündin!" growled the German.

Brachmann pressed the barrel of the pistol hard against Jack's forehead. "I trust no one else has any foolish ideas."

"What is it that you want with us?" asked Melinda. She put her hand into her pocket and held out the twenty pounds Janice had given her. "If--if it's money you're after, take it. "We've got--"

"Shut up!" barked Brachmann. The nerve of this woman! he thought. Assuming we are but simple robbers! Even so, Brachmann did not feel insulted enough to keep from snatching the twenty pounds from her hand and stuffing it in his pocket.

Indignant at Brachmann's rudeness to Melinda, Jack said, "Hey, don't talk to her that way."

Brachmann looked at him with cold gray eyes and without a word snapped off the safety on his pistol.

"Hey uhh," Jack gulped, "let's not get carried away here, okay?"

"One more word, and you are a dead man," Brachmann icily warned.

Jack felt Melinda's reassuring hand on his arm. "It's all right," she said softly.

By now Hans had half pushed, half booted Kettering back to rejoin Jack and Melinda. "Well, now that we are all together we can get down to business," said Brachmann. Sweeping his eyes over the three of them, he asked "Which of you is Covington?"

It seemed that Phillip, despite fearing for his very life, had in giving the description of his employer been wily enough to somehow forget to mention their gender. Brachmann, naturally enough, was left with the assumption that the person he was looking for could in fact be any one of them.

Of the three captives only Melinda grasped the immediate implications surrounding Brachmann's inquiry. If these men knew Janice was out on the road alone in all likelihood they would hunt her down--perhaps after killing the three of them. On the other hand, if they thought they already had Janice, maybe there was still a chance for them. Maybe, just maybe, she could buy some time. She just hoped that Kettering would be cooperative enough and Jack would be sharp enough to go along.

Stepping forward, the belle boldly asserted, "I am. I'm Covington."

"Where is the stone?" asked Brachmann.

"Stone? What are you talking about? I don't know anything about a stone."

"You are lying," Brachmann said sharply. "The stone Frailing found, I know you have it."

By now Kettering had come to the conclusion that it was every man for himself now and therefore he had no intention of playing along with Covington's bitch--whatever her motive for such making such a claim. Pointing at Melinda, he fleeringly said, "She is lying! She's not Covington, but she does have the stone."

"Shut up, Kettering!" exclaimed Jack. All this got him was a heavy blow to the side of the head, courtesy of the barrel of Brachmann's pistol. This sent the ex-sailor sprawling up against Melinda's legs.

Glaring at her in suspicion, Brachmann harshly demanded, "Then who are you?"

From his knees Jack gasped, "Just who she said she is, ya moron. She's...Janice Covington."

Bless you, Jack Klienman! thought Melinda, gratefully. You brave soul!

From above Brachmann raised his arm to strike Jack again when Melinda bent down to shield her friend's head with her own body. "No!" she cried out. "You leave him alone!"

Regaining his composure somewhat, Brachmann looked down his nose at the two individuals kneeling before him. "Very well, fräulein," he said. "We will resume this discussion later."

Turning to Kettering, he asked basically the same question he had asked Melinda. "What is your name again?"

Drawing himself up to his full height, the Brit replied, "Kettering. Miles Kettering, British Archaeological Society."

This was all Brachmann needed to know. In the heat of the moment the other man had indeed called him Kettering so it seemed there was at least one person here telling the truth. Brachmann was thankful for that because it greatly helped him clarify the situation. As for the woman she might be Covington or she might not. Whatever the case, he was positive that he had no further use for some scruffy member of the British Archaeological Society. Looking directly at Kettering, he calmly said to Hans, "Shoot him."

"Noooooo!" Melinda shrieked. In an instant she was on her feet and lunging at Hans, already drawing his pistol. All the old familiar rage was within her. She could feel the warrior's spirit rushing through her body. As she lunged past Brachmann caught her in his arms. To the belle it did not matter. Now that Xena was with her ten Brachmanns could not hold her. Fully expecting to easily break his grip, Melinda pushed against his chest with all her might.

Nothing happened.

Brachmann threw her up against the truck and pressed his gun hard up under her chin. "That was very foolish, fräulein," he angrily hissed.

Panic stricken, Kettering collapsed to the ground and threw an arm over his face in a vain attempt to protect himself. "Oh God, no!" he wailed. "Please. I can help you!"

With well practiced precision Hans aimed his pistol at the center of Kettering's chest.

"Please!" Melinda squalled. "You can't do this!" My God! she thought. Why isn't Xena doing anything?!

Deep with her soul an impassioned voice said, "I....can't!!"

Crawling backwards in a desperate attempt to get away, Kettering hoarsely cried, "You want the stone?! I have it. Take it, take everything--it's yours! It's all yours! Just--"

His pleas were silenced with the loud report of a pistol shot echoing away through the valley. Kettering's gurgling lungs were still gasping for air as Hans very workmanlike began to search his pockets. Finding Kettering's wallet, he tossed it over to Brachmann who then stuck it into his own jacket pocket.

"You bastard!" Melinda screeched, lunging at him. Brachmann caught her and with a rough shove sent her sprawling to the ground. There, to her utter horror, she saw him aim his pistol straight at Jack's head. "No!"

Desperately scrambling to her feet, Melinda literally tackled the still stunned Jack, covering him with her own body. "Stop it!" she cried. "This is my assistant, Mel Pappas. He's the only one that can read that stone for you!" Closing her eyes, Melinda waited out the next agonizing couple of seconds, fully expecting to hear the next shot at any time. It never came.

Brachmann eyed her keenly. "I do not care what it says."

It was time for Melinda to play her lone trump card. She hoped the man was greedy enough to bite. "Maybe you should," she said.

"I do not deal in impalpabilites," Brachmann brusquely declared. "Only absolutes."

Melinda rolled off Jack and sat up. She then forced on her lips that same little wise ass smile she had seen her own lover use so many times before. It was vital here that she look as confident as possible. She must make them believe there could be profit in keeping her and her friend alive. In other words, she must now borrow a page from Janice's book. "Yeah? she replied. "Well how about a ship full of gold? Is that enough of an absolute for ya?"

Indeed it was. Karl Brachmann was many things but he was first and foremost an opportunist. In fact he prided himself on his ability to see possibilities where others saw only obstacles. However he hardly needed such an intuitive gift to recognize the potential in a ship full of gold. "What would an archaeologist know about a ship full of gold?"

"It's part of an ancient treasure," said Melinda, "Harpalus' treasure, stolen from the plunder of Alexander the Great himself. That stone you want? It points the way to a treasure beyond your wildest dreams and it's just lying there for the taking."

Still skeptical, Brachmann said, "And so you and these two heroes of yours just decided that you would go out and find it, eh? Just like that."

"Findin' stuff is what we archaeologists do best," said Melinda, still breathing heavily. "Why root around in these rocks for a few bits of pottery when I can scoop up gold coins by the shovel full instead. Better us than somebody else, right?"

Leveling his pistol at her, Brachmann menacingly asked, "This treasure, do you know where it is? I warn you, do not lie to me."

"Well not exactly," Melinda said, "I mean, Mel and I haven't been able to pinpoint the precise location." Very quickly she added, "But we're close--very close. All it will take is a little leg work on our part."

Brachmann was still not certain whether this lanky beauty was in fact telling the truth or if it was simply a desperate ploy on her part to stay alive. It did not really matter. Either way, he was interested enough in what the woman had to say that he would forego killing the two of them for the moment. After all, he could always do that later should events merit it.

Suddenly a troubling thought came to him. Narrowing his eyelids in suspicion, Brachmann said, "You said that help is coming. Is there another member of your team? Is that who went for help?"

"No," Melinda lied, desperately hoping her voice would not give her away. "I mean, yeah, someone did go for help but it was just the fella we hired to drive us to Larissa. He doesn't know anything about the treasure."

It was here that Hans reminded his boss, "Herr Brachmann, the Greek did speak of a Mel Pappas."

Coolly eyeing the two individuals before him, Brachmann tersely replied, "So he did."

"If you decide to do this he might prove useful to us," Hans suggested.

"What to you think?" Brachmann asked Hans.

Hans shrugged and answered, "What have you got to lose?"

And so it was decided. Brachmann would let these two live--for the moment. Prodding Melinda with the toe of his foot, Brachmann said, "Get up--both of you."

At the moment Melinda's worst fear was not necessarily one of being shot but rather that poor Jack might be too groggy to understand what she was trying to do. Helping her stricken friend to his feet, she tentatively asked, "Are you all right, Mel?"

To her infinite relief Jack nodded stiffly and said, "Yeah, boss. I'm okay."

"First things first," said Brachmann. "Where is the tablet?"

Still shaken by this swift turn of events, Melinda replied, "It's...it's in the truck."

"You will produce it at once," Brachmann commanded.

Hesitantly she said, "Well uhhhh, I'll need my glasses." Her hard tackle, while saving Jack's life for the moment, had also caused her glasses to go flying off. Without a word Hans picked them up and handed them to her. After a quick inspection she was greatly relieved to find they were undamaged.

With a gentle hand she guided Jack to the running board of the truck. "Here, why don't you sit down for a minute." Jack did just that and Melinda was somewhat surprised when Brachmann made no objection.

At this point Melinda began to rack her brain for some way, any way, that she could leave a clue for Janice. It was obvious these men intended to take them along otherwise they would have already killed the two of them and searched the truck themselves. As Melinda Pappas now saw it, her duty was crystal clear. By whatever means possible it was going to be up to her to keep both herself and Jack alive long enough for Janice to find them. And Janice would find them sooner or later. Of that Melinda had no doubt. The only question was whether or not she and Jack would have already shared Kettering's fate by then.

As it appeared to Melinda that these two man were unaware of the existence of a second stone it was up to her then to decide which one to hand over. Jack's stone was stashed under the seat in Janice's pack, along with the rest of her money, their passports--and Janice's gun. Far more than the gun it was those passports that she did not want Brachmann and Hans stumbling across. If they were to find them she had no doubt it would mean an immediate death sentence for both herself and Jack. Even if the gun was all they saw they would surely take it. Janice would need that gun for herself. Better then to give them Kettering's stone.

Melinda knew full well that if Janice were here her thinking would be polar opposite of her own. Indeed Janice Covington would be positively aching for an opportunity to get her hands on the big .45. But she was not Janice and, unlike her fiery friend, was not skilled in handling one. Her experiences in the war had only served to reinforce her abhorrence of guns. No, the gun would stay where it was.

Melinda's fears proved to be well founded for she had no more than picked up Kettering's valise before Brachmann snatched from her hand. Crouching down, he turned the valise upside down, dumping its contents out onto the ground. There, lying in the dust, Melinda for the first time saw Kettering's stone and right away she sensed that there was something peculiar about it--something that at the moment she could not quite put her finger on.

"Maerchenhaft!" Brachmann triumphantly exclaimed. The German cradled the stone to his chest and stood up. As he began walking his way back to the car he said to Hans, "Bring them. They are coming with us."

Hans looked at Melinda and with a jerk of his gun hand, motioned for his two captives to follow Brachmann.

Melinda knew it was now or never. She had to take the chance. "Wait," she said. "I'm going to need my notes."

Hans hesitated only for a moment before tersely replying, "Get them but be quick about it."

Praying he would not follow, Melinda went to the cab of the truck and pulled back the door. There on the seat lay her only hope of leaving that clue for Janice. While waiting for Janice to return Melinda had decided to review some of her friend's notes on the Nonos dig and it was in these that she had been immersed upon the Germans' arrival. Now the worn notebook might be her last chance for rescue. Leaning over into the truck to mask her movements, Melinda nervously ripped out the last page in the notebook. She then used the stubby pencil tucked inside the book to quickly scribble:

treasure
Brakman

To prevent the note from blowing away she then wadded up the page and tossed it down onto the floor board where she knew the sharp-eyed Janice would be sure to find it. With notebook in hand she breathed an almost imperceptible sigh and then closed the truck door.

"Hurry up!" Hans barked, eyeing her intently. As she passed him he grabbed her by the arm. "What were you doing in there?" he suspiciously asked.

Melinda's heart was pounding like a bass drum but, remarkably, she somehow managed to keep her voice steady as she replied, "Writin' a secret message to President Truman, what do ya think?"

"Get in the car," Hans growled.

Back at Jack's side, Melinda helped her friend to his feet. "Come on, Mel," she said gently. "Looks like we're going for a ride." At once the thought occurred to her that, considering the present situation, this might not have been the most optimum choice of words. Any movie buff knew what it meant to be "taken for a ride."

Under Hans' watchful eye the Melinda and Jack were herded into the back seat of the big sedan. On his way back to the car he stepped across Kettering's body. As he did he heard the man emit a small gasp. Stopping, he impassively looked down at the stricken man. "Still alive, eh?" he noted aloud. "You are tougher than I thought."

Poking his out the window, Brachmann banged his hand on the outside of the car door and said, "Let's go, Hans!"

"Coming, Herr Brachmann." With no more compunction than if he were swatting a fly, Hans lowered his pistol and shot Kettering again, this time right between the eyes.

Melinda was still guiding Jack to the car and when the shot rang out, both of them jumped. However neither dared to stop or to even turn back to look. These two men had already proven they meant business and both Melinda and Jack knew that if they were not careful they could at any time end up like Kettering.

As Hans dragged Kettering's body out into the thicket Jack thought, Poor bastard!

But Melinda's thoughts were more attuned to the living than to the dead. In the lowest of whispers she warned, "Don't forget who you are."

A minute later everyone was in the car. As usual Hans took the wheel while Brachmann sat with him in the front seat where he could keep a watchful eye on their two unwilling passengers. "All right, Covington," said Brachmann, pointing his gun at Melinda, "which way?"

"North," said the belle.

Pressing her further, Brachmann warily asked "How far north?"

Boldly looking her captor right in the eye, Melinda said, "Pydna."

Brachmann looked hard at her and said, "Don't you know the Communists are running wild up there?"

Borrowing Janice's best smirk, Melinda said, "Well if you're not up to it you could always let us go. Mel and I are more than willing to go it alone, ya know."

"I'm sure you are," said Brachmann wryly. "However I trust you will not object if Hans and I tag along?" Having faced millions of determined Russians on the Eastern Front, Karl Brachmann was not about to let a few scruffy Greek Communists stand in the way of a potential fortune.

Giving him a careless shrug, Melinda hoped to appear nonchalant as she said, "You're the one with the heater." Inside, though, she was desperately hoping that they would not encounter Janice on the road. If that were to happen she knew things could get even uglier than they were now. No, better to have Janice find them than to have these two find Janice.

In the same precise manner with which he did everything, Hans eased the car back out onto the road to Larissa. It thus turned out that, of the three, only Kettering in the form of his lifeless body was able to follow Janice's admonition about staying with the truck and if there was irony to be found in that, it was all the more unfortunate because no one else was left to appreciate it.

**********

A few kilometers up the road Janice was still driving her short, powerful legs along at the same brisk pace when suddenly she was hit by the urge to relieve herself. As the only suitable cover to be seen was located in a gully running parallel to the road, Janice dropped down off the road and, by keeping her feet sideways, worked her way down into the high weeds. She had just dropped her pants and was squatting down when from around the bend she heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching. When it came to getting a ride, Janice immediately decided that her bladder could stand to wait a little longer. Hastily she pulled her trousers back up and began to scramble up the side of the gully. She was half way up when her foot slipped on a loose rock, and this sent the archaeologist tumbling back down to the bottom. She was still there, lying flat on her back, when the car came into view. "Hey!" she shouted at the big black car. "Hey...wait!"

To her chagrin the car slowed not at all but instead kept right on going and was out of sight long before the sound of its engine faded away in the distance.

"Son of a bitch," Janice muttered as she dejectedly picked herself up. Of all the stupid luck! With a sigh of resignation Janice returned to her business and soon she was back up on the road again.

Twenty minutes later she was finally able to catch a ride with two men hauling a bulldozer on a flatbed truck. In answer to the query she made in her broken Greek they said, yes, they had seen a truck off on the side of the road some kilometers back but that they had not noticed anyone there with it. Hearing this, Janice was not particularly concerned. After all, she had been gone barely over an hour. How much trouble could they get into?  
 

Once she finally did arrive in Larissa Janice had only a minimum of difficulty in finding the necessary part. Within an hour she was canvassing the market place in the hope of hiring a taxi, a farmer's truck, a hay wagon--anything--to take her back out to the truck. By now it was almost four o' clock and Janice found herself becoming anxious to get back to the others--especially, of course, Melinda. The archaeologist did not relish the idea of her lover being stuck out there in the countryside after dark, even if Jack was with her.

However, despite repeated attempts, Janice met with nothing but futility in her efforts to hire a car. With each failure she became more frustrated, more angry, and, yes--more worried. She was just about to leave the market place and start back on foot when she noticed someone sitting in rather decent looking automobile that was parked on the other side of the square. What the hell? she thought. It's worth a shot.

With a determined stride Janice crossed the square and walked up to the car. As she neared she saw the person sitting behind the wheel was a young woman--a girl really--perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old. In her strained Greek Janice began to ask her about the possibility of hiring her car when the teenager suddenly interrupted her.

"I speak English," the girl tersely told her.

"Oh. Well...good. Say uh, my truck's broke down a few kilometers out of town. How about givin' me a lift out there?"

"I cannot do that," said the girl.

"Come on," Janice coaxed, "be a pal. I'll be glad to pay you. Whaddaya say?"

From what Janice could gather the girl did not seem to be very tall, perhaps being even shorter than she was. She was very pretty, though, with short chestnut hair and eyes so green they seemed almost like emeralds blazing forth from those decidedly Greek features of hers.

"I told you I cannot," the girl repeated.

Janice reached into her wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. Holding it by the ends, she snapped it a couple of times and said, "Maybe Andy Jackson here can change your mind."

To Janice's surprise the girl almost seemed offended by this. With a derisive snort she said, "You Americans, you come to this country, you think you can solve all our problems for us simply by throwing money at them."

What's eating this kid? Janice wondered.

"The British, those bastard Germans, you--perhaps now even the Russians...why can't all of you just leave this country in peace?"

At the moment Janice was hardly in the mood for this nationalistic sort of ranting and so now she too began to get a little heated. "Look, I'm not here to debate either foreign policy with you or the relative merits of the Marshall plan. You guys wanna end up taking your orders from Uncle Joe Stalin, that's your business. All I'm looking for is a ride out of town." Janice shot her a sour glance and said, "Thanks for nothing, kid."

Janice spun on her heels and began to stalk away when she heard a car door open and then slam shut. "Don't call me kid!" she heard the girl say.

Still irked, Janice kept walking and called out over her shoulder, "Why? That's what you are."

"Wait!"

Janice stopped and, turning back around, saw the girl advancing on her, her jaw set in determination. A veteran of countless fights from her younger days, Janice thought she recognized the look in the girl's eyes. Good Lord! she thought. Not this! "Look," said Janice, "if it's a fight you looking for you're out of luck." Nevertheless, the archaeologist began to size the girl up as she approached. She was indeed small, not as muscular as Janice but well toned in a wiry sort of way. From the looks of her Janice reckoned the girl had plenty of spunk but that would not nearly be enough against her own mature strength and overwhelming experience. If push came to shove the girl would not pose much of a problem. Of course Janice did not want it to come to that but, still, she had to be prepared. Setting her feet and squaring her shoulders, Janice waited for the young woman to make her move.

"Kid," said Janice, "I'm not lookin' for any trouble. You've already said no so why don't you just run along?"

However this was one of the few times in her life where Janice had in fact misread the other person's intentions because when the young woman closed to within a couple of paces of her she stopped. With a curious intensity she began to very carefully scrutinize every inch of Janice's face. After a few seconds of this she asked "Don't I know you?"

Janice shot her and incredulous look and replied, "I don't think so."

But the girl was insistent. "No," she said, "I do know you! When I was a child--eleven or twelve years old--you came here. You were looking for someone who could build some scaffolding for you."

Janice's look of incredulity turned to one of complete surprise. The girl was right. In the spring of 1940 she had indeed come to Larissa in search of a skilled carpenter for her site. "Yeah," she said, "I did. There was this priest, he found a guy for me. What was his name...?" Attempting to jog her memory, Janice began to repeatedly snap her fingers. "...Father...Hamlos?"

"Father Haralambos," said the young woman. For the first time Janice saw a hint of a smile come to her face.

"That's the guy!" Janice said with a nod. "A real solid fella."

"The man you hired," said the girl, "was my oldest brother, Mihali."

"No kiddin'?" Janice looked at her closely and said, "Say, you aren't that little kid who kept hanging on to his leg, not wanting him to go, are you?"

"That was me," the girl answered. A little sheepishly the girl continued, "You were so beautiful, I thought he was going to run away with you and we'd never see him again."

Sensing the tension lifting, Janice laughed and said, "Well as I recall, I had to give you my magnifying glass to get you to turn loose."

"You did," said the girl, almost giggling now. "And you know what? I still have it." She then added, "I admit I was a handful in those days."

Just as I was, thought Janice. "Well I'll bet for some lucky boy you still are," said the archaeologist.

A warm glow washed over the girl's face as she said, "I am married."

"That brother of yours was a damn good carpenter," said Janice. "So what's he doing now? Does he still live around here?"

The glow drained from the girl's face and she said, "No, he was killed during the German invasion."

"Oh. I'm sorry. He was a good guy." You dumb ass! Janice chided herself. You had to ask, didn't you? Janice knew better than anyone that Greece, like so many other of the nations of Europe, had suffered tremendously at the hands of the Germans. That this young woman should have lost someone dear to her should not have been surprising at all.

"I adored him," the girl said quietly. "He was my hero." Only in her mind did she finish the thought. He still is! Suddenly shifting moods again, she perked up and said, "You know, I think Mihali kind of liked you. He said you were great to work for."

"Well that was nice of him to say," said Janice. Glancing at her watch, the archaeologist said, "Look, I wish I could stay and talk but I've really got to go. I have friends who are waiting for me."

With surprising quickness the girl reached out and caught Janice by the arm. "Wait!" she said again. "You were nice to my brother so I will help you." Pulling Janice by the hand she said, "Come, will we wait for Eva."

"Who is Eva?" asked Janice.

"Eva is my...friend," the young woman answered. "Come. She can drive you."

"Why can't you take me?"

The sheepish grin returned as the young woman said, "Well, I can't really drive. I just like to sit behind the wheel and pretend I can." Nearing the car, the girl abruptly stopped and said, "My God, where are my manners? My name is Zoe. Zoe Lambros."

"Janice Covington," said the archaeologist, sticking out her hand.

Shaking her hand, Zoe said, "I am pleased to meet you again, Janice Covington."

Glancing around, Janice said, "So uhh, where is your friend?"

Angling her head up at the pock marked, two story building before them, Zoe said, "In there. Eva is seeing the doctor." Leaning forward, she whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "I don't like doctors."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

"I don't think so," said Zoe. "Coming over on the ship she experienced some swelling in her legs. It's almost gone now but you know how it is. One can't be too careful about such things." Glancing hopefully at the building she said, "She should be out any time now."

"The ship? You've been out of the country?"

"We live in Australia now," Zoe said matter-of-factly.

Janice found this a bit confusing. Did this Eva live with Zoe and her husband? Why would she move all the way to Australia with them? That was a hell of a long way from Greece. To Janice it did not really matter, though. After all, it was none of her business. She was just looking for a ride, not to write a biography.

Behind them, from the front of the building, they heard the squeaking of hinges as the heavy oaken door opened. Turning, Janice saw a woman walk out of the interior shadows and out into the evening light.

"Evy!" Zoe cried. In an instant the girl was around the front of the car at the woman's side. Taking the woman's arm into the crook of her elbow, Zoe began to pepper the woman with rapid fire questions spoken in Greek. "What did the doctor say? It's nothing, right? Did he give you anything? Do you have to come back?"

Although Janice could not understand what Zoe was saying she did nonetheless recognize the sense of urgency in the girl's voice. And that was not all. For there, once again, the girl's features were lit up with the same incandescence that Janice had seen just a few minutes before when the girl mentioned she was "married." It was a look that Janice herself had seen countless times on Melinda's face. It was a look of love.

And in that moment Janice Covington knew.

In a reassuring voice Eva said, "Calm down, Zoe. The doctor said it was probably just an allergic reaction of some kind. It's nothing serious."

Zoe was not at all satisfied with this. "Allergic reaction? To what? Where did it come from? Something on the ship?"

Eva smiled at her and, patting the girl on the arm, said, "Well we will just have to keep an eye out, won't we?"

"You can bet that new camera of yours you will," Zoe vowed. "I'll see to that!"

Initially buried under Zoe's concerned assault, it was only now that Eva noticed the strange woman in the dusty felt hat standing by their car. Following her gaze, Zoe said, "Oh. Evy, I want you to meet someone." In English she made the introductions. "This is Janice Covington. Janice Covington, this is Eva Haralambos."

"Hi," said the archaeologist. "Just call me Janice."

In turn the woman responded with a polite, "Hello." However no similar such invitation for familiarity came.

The look in those clear blue eyes told Janice this woman was of a different type altogether than was the effervescent Zoe. While not overtly hostile or even unfriendly, Janice sensed the woman was certainly...wary of her. Why? Janice wondered.

As for the woman herself she cut quite an impressive figure. For one thing she was tall, very tall--taller even than the statuesque Melinda by at least two inches, perhaps more. Her hair, like Melinda's, was jet black but cut shorter so that it just about created a median between Melinda's long tresses and Zoe's much shorter cut. Also like Melinda, there was an air of refinement about her. She carried herself with the ingrained bearing of one long used to privilege.

"My brother, Mihali, worked for her for awhile before the war," explained Zoe.

"But only after I bribed Zoe to let him," grinned Janice.

She is definitely not British, thought Eva. What was an American woman doing all alone in Greece, especially during these troubled time? "You're an American."

From the tone Janice took it not so much as a question or even as a statement of fact. Rather, it almost seemed like an accusation, one falling just barely short of, Why are you here?

It fell to the enthused Zoe to answer Eva's unspoken question. "Janice digs up old things. An..."

Gently prompting her in Greek, Eva gave her the word she was looking for. "Archaeologist."

Janice, recognizing the word, said to the girl, "I'm surprised you would remember that."

Her incredulity was plain as Eva said, "And so in spite of the political upheaval here you chose this place to further your work?"

"That's right," said Janice, eyeing her keenly. "A job is a job."

"Janice's truck has broken down outside of town. She needs a ride back and, well, I told her that we would take her." Noting the sudden look of apprehension in Eva's eyes, Zoe quickly added, "It is all right, isn't it?"

In truth it was anything but all right as far as Eva Haralambos was concerned. There was something unsettling about this American with the flashing green eyes. It did not take a psychologist to see she was intense, driven--not given to foolishness. But more than that, Eva sensed an element of danger in her. In Greek she replied, "Zoe, you know Mister Mikelos is expecting us back with his automobile. He will not like us using up all his petrol."

Brushing aside Eva's quiet protest, Zoe said, "Oh he won't mind. He thinks you're cute. It's only a few kilometers and besides..." Zoe broke into a wide grin. "...she has offered to pay. Twenty American dollars." In her eagerness now to convince Eva, Zoe did not think it the least bit ironic that she had only minutes before rebuked Janice for her loose pockets.

To Eva, however, the prospect of such a windfall was meaningless when measured against the fact that she had promised to Mister Mikelos, a friend of Zoe's family from before the war, that she would have his car back by four o' clock. A conscientious soul, such things were very important to her. As it was she and Zoe would be cutting it close but hauling some stranger out into the country side would make it impossible. Accordingly, she was just about to say no when Zoe strategically decided this was the moment to push her lower lip out into a pout.

"Pleeeeease?" the girl asked.

Eva Haralambos possessed a quiet inner strength that was far greater than Janice ever would have guessed initially. This, combined with the fact that she was almost eight years older, served her in great stead on those occasions when she felt it necessary to try to rein in her friend's youthful exuberance. Zoe put her passion into everything she did but Eva knew that such passion was not always focused where it should be. The young woman could be so impetuous! Nevertheless, that passion was so much of what defined Zoe and it, like her almost fierce COMpassion, was just one of the many things that made Eva love her so. Standing there, towering over her young friend with the doleful look on her face, Eva knew it was no use.

For her part Janice, having understood Eva's tone of voice if not her words, was just about to kiss the whole thing off when she suddenly saw the tall woman's eyes soften. After a soft sigh, Eva nodded and said, "All right. We will take her. But we must hurry."

Gleefully clapping her hands like a school girl, Zoe gushed, "Oh thanks, Evy! It will be fun, you'll see!"

Reverting to what had been her native language for so long, Eva muttered, "Ja, ja."

Zoe was herself multilingual and was so well accustomed to the easy way Eva often slipped from one language to another that she never even noticed when Eva did this.

But Janice Covington did.

**********

Continued

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