Chapter One:

Katherine Thompson stood on her marble balcony, already dressed and ready to face the day. The wind tugged gently on her brown hair, and she at last set down her coffee cup long enough to tie it back with one of her mother's clips. This done, she climbed onto the large marble railing, more like a tall and immovable bench, and observed, sitting, the view with cool brown eyes, watching as the sky turned from a threatening grey to almost a white and at last to baby blue; the Saronic Gulf turned from black slate to blue sapphire. She took a sip of her coffee and watched as the fishermen and tourists sailed out.

"You're up," Castor said from behind her.

"Yes," she said as she watched some fishermen laugh at some raucous joke, none of which could be heard. The captain shouted orders at them, and they immediately set back to work.

"It is beautiful," he said, walking so he stood right behind her.

She smiled and turned to face him. The house was rising behind the white mansion on the hill, they were still in shadow, but the sun would soon be high enough to wake Dad. She set her coffee cup down once again and stood, letting him help her from the railing to the balcony. "Thank you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"My pleasure," he said, grinning at her.

"I love it here," she said.

"It is beautiful," he said again. He looked at her eyes. "You are beautiful."

She grinned at him comfortably. "I know."

He smiled. She wondered if he knew what she had said. She really did like it here, it just wasn't as good as America. She'd found out fast that the guys were all much the same, no matter where you went, but at least in America there were more parties, wilder parties, and you didn't have to keep them secret. In Greece, though, you had on average one wild party per week, with the same people showing up week after week.

At least they had good drinks. Last night, Castor had seemed hot; his teeth had appeared white; she'd found his awful English humorous. She didn't know why; it must have been the drinks. And she must have been really drunk last night, because Castor could hardly speak Greek properly.

And now that she was sober, he was driving her mad. And not in the "mad for him" type way. It was more like, "Oh, hell. How am I going to get out of this one?!" type way.

The sun hit the roofs of the houses below. She looked at them, suddenly looking alarmed. "Oh, no," she said. "Daddy. He'll be up soon. If he finds you here-"

"Do not worry about me," he said, hugging her.

"No, you don't understand-" She tried to wriggle out of his arms. "It's Daddy. My Papa. He won't be happy if he finds you here. You must go."

"You do not want me to meet your Papa?"

"No. Not now. Later. First he must get to know you. Please, go. I'll see you later tonight." She managed to get away from him at last. She held up her hands to stop him as he took a few steps forward. "Please, Castor. We mustn't let him find out right now. Go, and I'll talk to you tonight." Yeah, right. I might get sick just in the nick of time. Then again, I'm already sick. Of you.

"Yes, okay." He took a step forward, she a step back. He grinned and grabbed her hand. He kissed it.

Romantics, she thought. I can't stand romantics. LEAVE!

"The stairs," she said desperately, pointing behind him.

He nodded and walked backwards so he could grin at her. He almost tripped, not seeing the stairs in time, but she couldn't be so lucky. She looked after him lovingly until he was out of sight. As soon as he was, her face fell, and she glared at the palm trees, sending knives to Christine's garden.

"Why did I have to end up with him?" she raged to no one in particular.

"Perhaps because you're both idiots," came a clear response from behind her.

"Can it, Christine. I'm in no mood."

"I only came to tell you that your dear father had a bit of a heart attack this morning."

Katherine spun around, breaking her vow not to look Christine, her Dad's little slut, in the face. Christine Price was ten years younger than her, around thirty-three or thirty-four. Old enough to be her older sister. Did her father care? No, of course not. He was absolutely charmed by her. Her manners, present only when anyone but Katherine was around, as was her good humor, her long, coppery-red hair and mystifying green eyes. She was slim and white-skinned, tall and confident. A model who had just stepped out of a Vogue magazine. Utter perfection.

Next to her, Katherine looked like a second-rate homecoming court nominee. Her long dark brown hair, while matching her dark brown eyes, would never stay in one place. She was much shorter, around five foot seven or so. Her skin was tan, a light olive. While she was a hit with the men/boys around her, she knew that this was mostly due to the fact that she was nearly always the new kid.

"What do you mean?" Katherine demanded, trying not to cringe too visibly at the large amount of makeup, the horrifying hairstyle, and the gaudy clothes. Well, that was how she pretended Christine looked, anyway.

"Oh, yes, you must not have heard. Well, you did want a separate wing of the house so your little conquests wouldn't be discovered, may I remind you."

"That didn't count as a conquest," Katherine said, waving her hand behind her. "That was just merely exercise."

"Exercise? Normally it's called stupidity. Or so I thought."

"That's your problem. You tried to think again. Now, Christine. Explain to me about my father or I swear I-"

"He had a minor heart attack," Christine interrupted smoothly, calmly. "I just wanted to let you know."

Yeah, because you're after his money and want to come off as the concerned, loving, closest slut. "When? Where is he?"

"He was with me at the time. It was a little over an hour ago. Right now, he is in his room."

"Thank you," Katherine said icily. "Now, I would very much appreciate it if you would just get out of my room."

"Trust me, I would like very much to get out of your room." With that, the older woman frowned one last time at Katherine, turned, and left.

Katherine stared after her. At last she shook her head. "Dad," she reminded herself. With that, she went through her rooms to the door, locked it behind her, and walked quickly to her dad's wing.

"Daddy?" she asked as she entered his bedroom. She stopped when she saw him.

Michael Thompson was lying under the sheets in his canopy bed, pale. He hadn't been young when he'd met Katherine's mother, and now his age was showing. His beard was a bit ruffled, his hair scraggly. He had clear tubes under his nose running to some unseen mechanical device. Another machine on his bedside table was grey metal, dominated by a small black box with a green line vibrating softly one second, going haywire the next. Each time the line jumped, the machine made a beeping sound. Katherine stared at it, horrified. He really had had a heart attack. He opened his eyes and saw her.

He smiled and waved one hand, not even bothering to lift it off the sheets. "Kate, come in."

"Daddy... Are you all right?" she asked as she doubtfully walked towards him.

"Yes, now that those screwed up medicine men have left. Head-shrinkers, every last one of them. It took forever for them to let me stay here instead of that stupid hospital, but, you know, money talks."

"Yes, Daddy." She stood next to his bed and rubbed his hand affectionately. True, she and Christine were both waiting for him to keel over so they could get his money, but, unlike Christine, Katherine wasn't in any rush.

"So? Tell me about last night's boy."

"What last night's boy?" Katherine asked.

"Oh, come on. I know you," he said, giving her a conspiratorial look. "You have a new love every week."

Katherine groaned. "This one was more like a love of the night, if that."

Her dad started chuckling and quickly started coughing. "I knew it. I told you so. Didn't I tell you so?" He chuckled again and launched into another coughing fit.

"Oh, Daddy. Please don't. Calm down," she said.

Finally, he did calm down and relaxed, patting his chest and looking in front of him thoughtfully. "Do you remember everything I've taught you? About mythology and all that?"

"Yes, Daddy. I remember. You still give me pop exams, for crying out loud."

Michael grinned but caught himself before laughing. "And do you remember what I told you about Atlantis?" She froze and remained silent. "They had an elixir," he said softly, mostly to himself. "An elixir that could grant a person immortality." He swallowed and looked at her, speaking with renewed force and vitality. "I've been looking into it for years. I don't think we're quite ready for a large expedition, but I think it's about time we had one."

"An expedition?" she repeated.

"Yes, yes. You know. It's where you go with a bunch of people to find lost cities and all that."

"Yes, I know that. But- but people have been looking for Atlantis for centuries, and no one has ever found it."

"Oh, you naive child," he said fondly. "I'm one of the top five richest people in the world. if it weren't for that Gates guy- Well. Listen. I know I'm getting old. For years now, I've been sending out expeditions. Not to look for Atlantis itself, but to look for artifacts from Atlantis. And I think I know of someone who would be willing to search for it. And those headshrinker people think they that I'm going to die soon. And that's all hog's wash, I say. I'm going to live to a ripe old age if it kills me, by gummit!"

"But Daddy-"

He held up a hand, and she fell silent. "Thomas Fringes ought to have a great idea of where it's located. He's one of the greatest researchers of Atlantis, you know. Just poor. I'll have some of my own guys with him. He'll jump at the chance, I'm sure. And did you know that you'll be heading up the expedition?"

"Me, Daddy? Me?"

"Yes! Who else? I've taught you everything you need to know! You know the ancient languages- come on, let's hear you give the ancient Greek alphabet, huh?"

"Daddy-"

"Oh, come on. I'm an old man without much time left." He stopped joking when he saw the look on her face. "Kate," he said, pulling on her arm until she sat down. "I'm dying. And to be honest with you, I don't want to die. So I'm going to try and live. And that way I'll live forever."

"Oh? What's so great about living forever? What if you lose all your money, huh? What if you have to live on the streets?"

"Then I'll just have to kill everyone who has more money than I do. Eventually there will be so much money that I'll have to have it all back again. And besides, don't be stupid. If I get the elixir, you get it too. That way, we can both live on the streets together."

"How pleasant," she said dryly.

"If you don't head up this expedition," Michael said, serious at last, "I'll have Christine lead it. She knows enough. And I think I could use a break from her. She makes a man tired."

"I'll bet she does," Katherine said coldly. She considered, but they both knew she was going to agree. Finally, she said so out loud. "I'll handle it. Just make sure that Christine knows she is below me."

"Done. I'm sorry, Kate, but you won't be about to carry out with any of your flings tonight. We'll be making plans. In my office, there's a list of people, with personal information about them. Those are the people I've chosen to assist you. And make sure Timmy knows what we're doing. Oh, never mind. I'll talk to him myself."

"No, I'll talk to him."

"No, you won't. I've raised you, Kate. Don't think I don't know how you are about bodyguards. I'll talk to him."

"Fine."

As soon as she had left, Michael picked up the phone next to his bed and dialed the number. "She took the bait."

"Good. Think the others will to?"

"What are you talking about? Of course they will. I'm rich. They want to be rich. I've got the money they need and can give them the fame they want. Why wouldn't they?"

"You'd just better be right about this, Thompson."

"Trust me. Have I ever led you astray before?"

* * *

"Look at it this way," Jay said as he paced in their cell. "At least we aren't dealing with the death sentence or anything."

"Oh, yes," Marco said. "That's very comforting. Why can't these cursed Egyptians just let us go? I mean, we're Americans, being held against our will!"

"I think the fact that we're Americans is what kept them from giving us the death sentence, actually." Jay fingered the trinket in his pocket. Luckily, hed hidden it away, and the "authorities" hadn't gotten it. Some bunch of authority, he thought dryly as he looked over at them. A five-blade fan with two blades missing was spinning slowly in the main room, stirring the cigar smoke and forming nearly invisible images. Three officers were sitting at the table in folding chairs. One had no pants; another had only his pants and undershirt. The other man was fully clothed.

Undershirt set his cards on the table. The other two looked at him before continuing to play between themselves.

"Psst," someone hissed through the window. Marco was about to spring for it. Jay pushed him back onto the bed and leaned casually against the wall, nodding to the guards as they turned to see what the commotion was.

"Sorry," Marco said, waving to them. "I- um, I just-"

"He just really has to go and is kind of embarrassed to have to do it in front of people," Jay said.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's it. So could you guys just turn around or something?"

"You are acting suspicious, American," said the fully-clothed guard.

Marco pointed to Pantless with his thumb. "I don't like the way that guy's checking out my jeans, man."

All-clothes laughed and went back to the game. The other two did the same.

After a few seconds, Jay turned to the window and whispered, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Do you have it?" the man asked.

"Yeah, we have it," Marco said. He'd joined Jay. Before Jay could push him away, Marco added, "What do we get for it?"

"Twenty dollars each," the man said. His face, as usual, was hidden. It always was when they saw him.

"Just twenty dollars?" Jay asked. "That isn't enough to bail us out of here, pal. We're in jail, here, in case you haven't noticed. So, not only do we want the twenty dollars each- in cash, we also want out of jail and an extra thirty dollars each- also in cash- for our troubles, got that?"

"I get you out of jail and give you thirty dollars each," the man growled.

"No way," Jay said. "You don't have the little trinket."

The man growled deep in his throat while Jay grinned at him sweetly, occasionally whispering, "Trinket, trinket." The man finally whispered loudly, "Fine!" He started walking to the front of the building to post bail. But someone beat him to it.

* * *

"Mr. Thompson?" Clara Greenfield said as she walked into his office. It was crowded today with people making arrangements for the expedition.

"Yes?" came a slightly feeble voice from the other side of the room. He wasn't as strong as he had been before, but he was recovering quickly- he always did.

"I just got a call from the dig near Cairo. Someone stole a bunch of stuff tonight, two boys. They said most of what the two boys tried to steal was given back when the police down there arrived, but they say they've looked it over, and there's some stuff missing."

"Such as?"

"A few pieces of jewelry, a silver box, and a small statue of Anubis."

"Yinepu, girl. His name is Yinepu, not Anubis. Anubis is that cockamamie name the Greeks gave him. He's an Egyptian god, learn his real name."

"Yes, sir."

"And while you're struggling over your studies, get Henry and Akbar or whatever his name is down there to get those two boys here."

"Already on it, sir."

"Good."

* * *

Duat and Henry walked into the jail.

"He had better pay us well," Duat grumbled. In English, for Henry's benefit. Duat was Egyptian, tall and stocky, with bulging muscles and a small, greasy mustache to compensate for the loss of hair on his head.

Henry was shorter and skinnier, wearing a worn suit instead of Duat's jeans and sullied T-shirt. "It's not the pay I'm worried about," he said in his own British accent. "It's how to get these guys out. I mean, why shouldn't we press charges? They stole from us."

"Just tell the guards it's our business."

The man in the alley spotted them and sank back into the shadows.

As soon as they walked into the doorway, Henry greeted the guards in Egyptian, only glancing for a moment at the guards' clothes. Seeing the two boys look at him curiously from their cell, he switched to English. "We're here for the two guys who stole from us."

"You wish to press charges?" All-Clothes said.

"No, nothing like that. Our boss, the man who was paying for the dig, wishes to see them."

The man looked at the cell. It would be nice to have the place to themselves again; then they could bring out the drinks. "ID?" he asked.

Henry showed him.

After a split second's inspection, the guard waved to the one next to him to unlock the cell. Jay and Marco came out, hands in pockets, both of them trying to look tough and dangerous. Their facade dropped as soon as Duat glared at them.

"Our boss wants to speak to you," he said slowly in a deep voice. "I have worked for him many years. If you try anything on the way there, he will forgive me if I should happen to make a slip. Or one of you slip out of the plane when we are miles in the air."

Marco gulped. Jay elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah, slipping is a problem," he mused. "What should happen if you slip?"

"Then I will fall, moron," Duat said. "But not five miles down."

"Six?" Jay asked.

Duat grabbed his arm and dragged him to the car, pulling Marco along with his other arm.

Henry, as they were walking out, heard Jay shout, "Seven? Eight? Come on, man. Help me out!"

"Ow!" Marco said. "Squeeze his arm that hard, not mine!"

Less than an hour, two suspicious thieves, a disgruntled bodyguard, and an amused petty lawyer were on a plane to Greece.

* * *

"Hello Jay, Marco. Those are your names, correct?"

"No," Jay said. "I'm Jason. The guy from all those Halloween movies. And this is Timothy McVeigh."

"Oh," Michael said, grinning as he sat behind his desk. "I'm glad to have such distinguished guests here. Do you know why you're here?"

"Because we stole something from you and you want it back?" Marco asked.

"Something like that. I also want to know who hired you, and hire you to work for myself."

"Why should we work for you?" Jay demanded.

"Oh, a few reasons," Michael said peaceably. "For starters, I think you would be a great help to us. My friends tell me you are good thieves and know how to use guns. I like that. For another, you're smart, or you wouldn't have made it this far alive on the streets. For another, it is essential that I find out who is trying to cheat me out of what is rightfully mine. And the last and, I hope, the most convincing argument: If you don't, I'll kill you."

Marco and Jay looked at each other. Marco shrugged. "Sounds pretty convincing to me," he said.

"Daddy?" Katherine asked as she walked in. She stopped in mid-step when she saw Jay and Marco. "These are the people you want on my team?"

"Yes," Michael said.

"Well," Katherine said, standing straight and frowning. "I won't have them. Look at them. They're slimy and dirty. Their clothes don't fit right. And look at that one," she said, pointing to Jay. "That one's got a scar the size of Chicago on his arm."

"I got it while trying to save the Queen of India," Jay said indignantly. "I jumped in front of her when someone shot at her!"

"Is she okay?" Marco asked. "I mean, did she pay you or anything?"

"There is no queen in India," Katherine said.

"Libya, then."

"If I may interrupt?" Michael said. "Katherine, dear, I'm afraid you don't have a choice. It's my expedition."

"But you said I'm heading it! Daddy-"

He held up a hand. "I may have slightly exaggerated. Johann Matherson's son, Renny. I think he's heading it."

"Renny? Renny? Daddy, how could you-"

"Easily, my dear. I just did." Katherine stared at him in shock, not quite knowing what to say. "I'd suggest you go to bed, my dear," Michael said. "You've had an exciting day."

Katherine swallowed. She gave a slight nod and stomped to the door, slamming it closed behind her. She opened it again to get her skirt out of the door and slammed it once more.

Jay snickered. Marco quickly pinched himself to make sure he wouldn't laugh.

As Michael looked at the two of them, his eyes laughed. "I suggest you two get cleaned up. The expedition leaves in a week, just so you know."

The two nodded and left the office. A young woman showed them to their rooms. An hour later, Marco knocked on Jay's door. Jay let him in.

"Can you believe this?" Marco said, pointing to his hair. "They made me get a haircut! They- Actually, yours doesn't look much better."

Jay growled and pushed him in the shoulder. "At least I didn't have to wear rich clothes," he said.

"Hey!" Marco said defensively. He turned to model off the clothes. "This is Armani."

"Can it," Jay said. "Now, business. Why do these stiffs want us working for them."

"Easy," Marco said. "So we can double-cross our former employer. Good riddance to him, that's what I say. These guys are paying in like, three-digit numbers. For a day. Three-digit number per day. It goes up if we actually find something."

"Something fishy about all this," Jay said, sitting down.

"Who cares?" Marco demanded. "You see the food they got in this place. They've even got room service. I know. I tried it out."

Jay shook his head. "Something just doesn't fit right." He took the trinket out of his pocket and looked at it, not really seeing it, lost in his own thoughts.

"Yeah," Marco said. "Well, you stay here and waste your time thinking. These are rich folks; there's no way to tell what's going on in their minds."

"Yeah," Jay finally agreed. "Yeah. I guess as long as we have what they want, there's no problem, really." He put the trinket back in his pocket.

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