Jack Klienman gingerly rubbed the throbbing knot on his head. "Boy, he said, "I sure am hungry."

Melinda stared at him in silent amazement for a moment before turning back to gaze out the window at the jagged mountains far off in the distance. How can you possibly be thinking of your stomach at a time like this? she wondered. And so, she just sat there, numbly staring out the window, barely able to believe what had happened. That poor man!

For a long time the only sound was the whine of the car's engine as Hans negotiated the many twists and turns on the road running north from Larissa. Finally Brachmann's clear voice rose above the car noise. Turning to face his two captives, he said, "I warn you, Covington. I am not a patient man. You had better not be trying to--how is it you Americans say--pull a fast one."

"What I told you is on the level," replied Melinda. By now it was clear to her that if she was going to impersonate Janice she must also try not only to emulate her lover's speech pattern, but also her mannerisms as well. Just because Brachmann did not seem to know Janice's description did not mean that he was also unaware of the woman's reputation. To avoid any slip ups Melinda was going to have to try to, not just act like Janice, but to think like her as well.

"The unhappy prospect of taking a bullet to the brain will make one say or do anything," Brachmann observed.

"There's a treasure all right," Melinda grimly answered him. "But without us you'll never see the first pfenning of it."

"I need not remind you that it is I who control the situation here," said Brachmann. 'You see, treasure or no treasure, that stone is worth ten thousand British pounds to me."

"Ten thousand pounds?" Melinda contemptuously snorted. "Chump change."

"Nevertheless, do not forget the fact that you continue to live entirely at my leisure." A smirk played across his lips as he added, "As it is I may still shoot you and keep your language expert. After all, he's the one that useful to me, not you."

Melinda knew Janice would never be intimidated by such a threat. Curling her lip into a defiant sneer, she replied, "You boys would never figure it out by yourselves even if you knew every last word of what that tablet says."

Listening to this exchange, Jack could only marvel at how well the shy Southern lady was emulating the tough-minded Janice. Sweetheart, he thought, you would have made a damned fine actress. As for why she was doing this he did not yet fully understand that yet but as far as he could tell Melinda seemed to have a good grasp of the situation. All he knew for certain was that he was not back there lying dead in the weeds with Kettering and he had Melinda to thank for that. Though he would have felt much better if Janice were there with them he knew he could count on Melinda. He just hoped Melinda felt the same way toward him.

"Are you always so sure of yourself?" Brachmann wryly asked.

"If I wasn't I'd still be back in Philly, waiting on tables in some greasy spoon."

In his own way Brachmann could relate to that. As a young man he too had struggled to rise above poverty. And like Covington he too had not only persevered, but prospered. Brachmann respected that and for the span of a heartbeat or two he thought about how if was still the old days the two of them might have become friends. However this was not the old days and he was no longer the idealistic young educator he once was. Dresden and the horror of the Eastern Front had forevermore ripped that part of his soul from him. Now Brachmann no longer had any friends nor did he want any. In his line of work a man with friends was a man who could be exploited and Karl Brachmann had sworn that he would never to allow himself to be vulnerable again. Covington and he might be cut from much the same cloth but he would not hesitate to kill her once her usefulness to him was over. But as he looked upon the face of this surprisingly beautiful woman he decided that the time had not yet come.

"Better for the both of us if you were a waitress," said Brachmann. "At least I would be spared the unpleasantness of harming such a beauty once the treasure is found."

Returning his gaze, Melinda coolly replied, "Well you never know, anything could happen by the time you get around to bumping us off. Who knows? By then you could even be head over heels in love with me."

Act or no act, Jack Klienman could not believe his ears. Even if he lived to be a hundred he would never have expected Melinda to make such a bold statement. His thoughts wandered back to Kettering's sneering words. Even setting aside for a moment the fact that they were both women, he again began to wonder how it was possible for two such polar opposites as the brash Janice and the genteel Melinda to find true happiness in being together. Whatever the level of their friendship, it was obvious the two of them had done just that. It was all so puzzling to him. Fortunately for his bewildered mind he did not have to dwell on the subject for very long. Like Melinda, Jack had not eaten anything all day and now that is stomach was beginning to object more strenuously to its neglect he forgot all about the belle's dark beauty and how lucky Janice was. Instead he found himself pondering how fortunate he would feel right now if only he could gaze on the inherent beauty of a couple of hot dogs smothered with extra relish.

**********

>From her place in the back Janice leaned forward and took hold of the front seat. "It's just on the other side of this patch of woods," she said.

Eva nodded and began to slow the car.

"Are you really going to fix your truck yourself?" Zoe asked. The idea that a woman cold actually do such a thing fascinated her and was something she found eminently appealing.

"Sure," said Janice. "There's nothin' to it if you know how."

"Can I help?!" Zoe blurted out.

From the driver's side came Eva's voice, cautionary and quiet. "Zooooooe."

"Oh come on!" the girl entreated. Hopefully glancing back at Janice, she said, "It won't take long, will it?"

If Jack marveled at how different Janice and Melinda were he would have been equally struck by the differences between Zoe and Eva. To Janice Zoe seemed an ebullient bundle of energy, full of life. Even just sitting in the car the young woman gave the impression that she was ready for a leap into anything, whatever it might be. Eva, on the other hand, she saw as thoughtful but also extremely reserved. Janice thought she was not, however, naturally shy the way Melinda was. No, this one was mistrustful for a reason. Her first guess, of course, was that it had something to do with the war, perhaps in conjunction in some way with that faint hint of a German accent which, despite the woman's best efforts, still managed to creep through on occasion. In the end it did not really matter all that much to Janice because as soon as the woods were cleared Zoe and Eva would be relegated to just two more people to have passed through what had so far been a very eventful life. Looking at the girl's youthful, exuberant face, Janice again suddenly felt old. Old and very tired. With a weary smile she said to the girl, "Thanks anyway, kid, but that's all right. A couple of guys are there. They can help me."

As they neared the edge of the wood Janice looked out the window and saw the spot where she and Melinda had shared their good-bye kisses only a few hours ago. Only a few hours.... To Janice it seemed like ages! It was then that the unhappy thought struck her. Damn! she thought. I forgot Mel's dolmas!  
 

Even before the car cleared the wood Zoe raised her arm and pointed up the road. "I see it."

A second later Janice too saw the truck. Seeing no one about, she was not alarmed at first. Aaaah, they're probably all asleep, she thought. It was then that a feeling of uneasiness began to creep over the archaeologist. No, Melinda would not be asleep. She would be taking care of the tablets, just as Janice had asked.

It took Zoe to vocalize the thing that was already beginning to trouble Janice. Squinting her eyes, Zoe said, "I don't see anyone."

Eva wheeled the car in alongside the truck and it was still rolling to a stop when Janice pushed open her door and leaped out. "Mel?" The only reply was the wind rustling through the weeds. "Mel!"

Striding quickly to the truck, Janice stepped up on the running board and looked inside. "Mel!" Then, with a worried whisper she added, "Oh Jesus!" Hopping down off the running board, Janice cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, "Maahhh--linnn--daaahhh! Jaaaaaaack!"

Zoe, having now joined Janice, asked, "Where could they be?"

"I don't know," Janice replied. "But I don't like the looks of it one bit."

From behind the two of them heard Eva loudly gasp. "Oh my God!"

Together they turned and saw Eva standing at the back of the truck. Staring straight ahead, she had a hand over her mouth and the look on her face was one of utter horror.

"What is it, Evy? Zoe cried, as she rushed to her friend's side. Janice was right behind her and soon enough both of them saw what it was that had shocked Eva so. For there, lying in the low weeds scarcely fifty feet away, was the body of a man. Janice took a step in front of the other two and instantly she recognized that it was Kettering. On his chest stood two huge crows, quarreling and paying scant attention to these three human interlopers as they pecked at the man's face.

Janice whirled around and, putting her hands on Eva's shoulders, began to push her away. "You guys get back!" she barked. Picking up a rock, Janice flung it at the big crows. "Get out of here!" she yelled.

Even so, it was with the greatest reluctance that the crows surrendered their prize to the approaching Janice and then only after the archaeologist whizzed a second rock within an inch of one of the birds' head. Angrily cawing, the crows grudgingly took to flight, leaving the field and the corpse to Janice. Judging from the wounds and Kettering's blood soaked shirt Janice correctly guessed that the man had first been shot in the chest and then later in the head, perhaps because he had not died quickly enough to suit his attacker.

As she stood there looking at the body a flood of emotions burst forth within the archaeologist. First, she began to feel as if there was an icy ball inside her stomach. How easily could this have been Mel!? Oh God!

That icy fear lasted but a moment before it was replaced by something altogether different. Deep within her, a fiery, all encompassing rage began to well up, burning ever more strongly so that before very long its angry flames had engulfed Janice's soul. The thought that someone might at this very moment have their vulgar hands on Melinda--hurting her or doing God knows what--was almost too much for her to bear. As of yet Janice Covington did not know who had done this thing but then and there she made a vow that if it took her the rest of her life she would find who the scum and when she did they would be one sorry son of a bitch!

However along with the fear and the rage there was another emotion, an emotion no less powerful but for Janice one infinitely more lugubrious--guilt. Janice was bitterly aware that if not for her stubborn insistence on making this trip none of this would have befallen any of them--not Melinda, not Jack, certainly not the poor, unfortunate bastard now lying dead in front of her. Janice knew that, despite her assurances to the contrary, Melinda had not really wanted to do this but, as she almost always did, the belle had succumbed to the double pointed prod that was the force of Janice's personality and her own selfless love. Crouching down beside Kettering's body, Janice blinked back a tear as she thought of the sweet lady that was her very life. "My God, sweetheart," she whispered, "what have I gotten you into?"

Still, as badly as she felt at this moment regret and self reproach were not going to get it done if she wanted to see this thing through to a successful conclusion. No, far better to lean on the rage she felt and to summon forth that Covington grit and dogged determination. These were the qualities that were called for here.

As Janice began to go through Kettering's pockets a shadow fell across the body. It was Zoe. Without looking up Janice said, "I thought I told you to get back."

The girl's voice was clear and steady as she replied, "I've seen dead bodies before."

"Yeah? Well this isn't exactly your dear departed grandpa, kid."

Miffed by Janice's cold sarcasm, Zoe shot back, "I've seen a lot more people die than you have."

Still not looking up, Janice snapped shut Kettering's broken pocket watch and returned it to his pocket. "No you haven't," she matter-of-factly replied.

"Who is he?" asked Zoe. "One of your friends?"

Janice could think of several words with which to describe Kettering but "friend" was hardly one of them. This was why she merely said, "His name is Miles Kettering. He was traveling with us." She then rolled the dead man over and, as Hans had before her, began to go through his pockets.

Zoe was appalled by this. Dropping to her knees, she savagely grabbed Janice by the arm. "Why are you doing that?" she demanded to know.

Janice jerked her arm free and stood up. "Save your morals for somebody who gives a damn." The voice was harsh but in truth she was not at all angry at Zoe. In fact she very much admired the girl's spirit. In a softer tone Janice explained, "Look, kid, I've got friends out there somewhere who need me. Who knows? This guy might have something I can use."

"Like money," Zoe sneered.

I wish! thought Janice. As she had expected the man's wallet was gone. Aloud she said, "It was worth a shot. These guys ain't playin' by the Marquis of Queensberry rules here, kid and neither can we"

"It's still not right," Zoe insisted.

Glancing back at an anxious Eva, Janice asked "What would you do if your friend over there was in trouble?"

This Zoe could understand. In fact in her young life she herself had already taken far more drastic measures in order to protect Eva. Fixing Janice with a hard look, she said, "I wouldn't let anybody or anything stand in the way of what I had to do."

"Well there ya go," said Janice. "Neither will I. Because one of them means more to me than my own life." She looked down at Kettering and added, "Besides, he wouldn't have needed it where he's going."

Zoe's only reply was a solemn nod of the head. "In any case I don't have time for debate," said Janice. "I gotta get out of here." Turning quickly to Zoe, Janice said, "I know you guys are anxious to get back to town but can you stay a little longer? I can put that drive shaft back in a hell of a lot quicker if I have some help."

"Of course," Zoe said with a nod. "Just tell me what to do."

This kid is all right, thought Janice. Most girls her age would be petrified by all this terrible turn of events but she doesn't seem to be scared at all. The more Janice learned about this young woman, the more she began to respect her. With the barest hint of a smile the archaeologist said, "Thanks. But first, let's see if we can find something to cover up this poor sap."

Rummaging through Jack's duffel bag, Janice found a wrinkled windbreaker that would do the job nicely. Two minutes after that the two of them were sidling up under the truck from opposite sides. "What do I do?" asked Zoe.

"Hang on a minute." Taking the part from its bright blue box, Janice removed its oily paper wrapping. "Okay," she said, "lift up the shaft for me."

Zoe did and then watched with growing admiration as Janice deftly began to reattach the drive shaft. "Push up," said Janice. "Higher. That's it. Hold it right there." As she was preparing to insert the snap ring Janice dropped it. "Hand me that snap ring, kid," she said.

"I told you not to call me kid."

Taking the snap ring from her, Janice grinned and said, "Anything you say...kid."

This Covington woman was none like Zoe had ever seen. Uncompromising, brassy, relentlessly blunt; she was also tough, very smart, and from the looks of it extremely self-reliant. Here was a woman long used to getting her own way. But more than that, Zoe had a suspicion that underneath all that grittiness, Covington was at heart a very good person. Zoe liked that combination. Lying there watching Janice put the finishing touches on the drive shaft, Zoe at that moment decided that she liked her. It was then that a thought came to her, one which depended on her Eva liking Covington too.

As Janice began to shake the drive shaft in order to make sure it was firmly in place, Zoe rolled out from under the truck. Popping to her feet, she took the waiting Eva by the arm and led her away from the truck.

"It is finished?" Eva asked. "The truck is repaired?"

"It seems to be," replied Zoe. Seeing the look of satisfaction on Eva's face, Zoe took a deep breath and went on, "Evy...I think we should help this woman."

"Zo, what are you talking about? What do you mean by 'help?' This is a matter for the police."

Zoe cast a furtive glance back at the truck. "I don't think she's going to the police."

"How do you know?" Eva challenged her. "Did she tell you this?" As she had feared Zoe's impetuousness seemed to be once again running rampant.

"Not exactly," Zoe answered.

Eva nodded toward Kettering's lifeless body. "We are not just going to leave this man here!"

"No one is saying that," said Zoe.

However Eva found this answer far from satisfying. "Zo, a man has been murdered. It's up to the police to handle this. We are not in the Resistance anymore, remember? Helping some stranger exact her revenge is nothing more than taking the law into our own hands."

"It's not about revenge," Zoe countered. "She wants to find her friends. What's wrong with that?"

"What's with you anyway? This woman shows up and...." To emphasize her point Eva snapped her fingers. "...bang, just like that you want to jump in where it doesn't concern you."

It was in more subdued tones that Zoe sought to remind her lover. "She was good to my brother. I owe it to Mihali's memory to be good to her."

"Zoe--"

Impatiently Zoe stamped her foot. "Evy! She needs us!"

"Well what can we do?" came Eva's exasperated reply.

"I don't know," said Zoe. "Something. Anything. If I were in trouble wouldn't you want help?"

Eva was deadly serious in her reply. "If I had to I would crawl on my belly for it." Quickly she added, "But this thing here is not our concern."

Urgently tugging on her lovely friend's sleeve, Zoe softly pleaded, "Evy, please!

Eva Haralambos looked down at the passionate woman who had stolen her heart during the darkest days of the war. Zoe had been her salvation, she had gave her a reason to live at that very moment when her life was at its absolute nadir. Now the girl wanted to channel that boundless passion and energy of hers toward helping someone else. Zoe was like that. Fiercely loyal, she would do anything for a friend--even, it seemed, for a brand new one.

Gazing into those entreating green eyes, Eva decided that Zoe was not wrong for wanting to do so. And so, she gave in. With an exaggerated sigh Eva said, "All right. If this is what you want. We'll see what we can do to assist this woman."  
 

By now Janice was out from under the truck. Having heard most of this exchange, she could only guess as to what the two of them were discussing so animatedly because they were conversing in Greek. As it turned out she was not long in finding out because, as she approached the women to pay them for the ride, a beaming Zoe turned to her and said, "Eva and I have decided to help you find your friends."

However Zoe was in for a surprise of her own because Janice immediately shook her head and said, "I appreciate that, but no. Thank you guys for all your help. I really do appreciate it."

Eva could not contain herself. "What about the body?" she asked.

"You guys can inform the police," said Janice. "I don't have time to waste answering a lot of questions." That said, Janice turned away and began to walk back toward the truck.

As for Zoe, she was not quite so interested in the disposition of the body. Catching up with Janice, she began to press her. "Why not?" she asked. "We can be of real help to you."

Reaching the truck, Janice flung open the door and peered under the seat, hoping her pack was still there. It was. "Sorry, kid," she said, "you guys will just--"

"Be in the way?" Zoe asked, bitterly cutting her off.

"Something like that," replied Janice. "It's nothing personal, kid, but the trail is growing colder by the minute. I've got to move and move fast and the one thing I don't need is somebody tagging along." Reaching into the pack, she was much relieved to find the .45 still there. She pulled it out and dropped the magazine just to make sure it was still loaded.

"Eva and I are not a couple of helpless kittens, "Zoe insisted. She curled her lip and added, "Typical American! The lone cowboy riding to the rescue."

Irritated now, Janice bumped the magazine back into place with the heel of her hand. "Look, kid, this is not a fucking movie! In case you haven't noticed these jokers are playing for keeps here. And so am I because when I find the bastards I fuckin' guarantee you there's going to be hell to pay."

Her voice echoing her determination, Zoe replied, "I am not afraid."

"Maybe not," said Janice, as she climbed into the truck. "But what about your friend there. Is she really willing to risk her ass for this?"

That did it. Her green eyes reflecting her fury, Zoe clenched her teeth and said, "Eva has seen danger before. During the war she put her life on the line every single day so that the Resistance might better fight the German pigs. How dare you question her courage! She is as brave as you'll ever be. She said she will help and that you can stake your very life on. I know because I have, many times."

Looking at the girl with her red face and chest heaving with emotion, Janice could not help but respect and admire her. I really like this kid! she thought.

Slowly one corner of Janice's mouth curled up into something of a half-grin. "Resistance, huh? You too?"

Her nostrils flaring in anger, Zoe tersely answered, "Yes, me too."

Janice knew from her days in the OSS just how terrible a price the Greeks had pain for their brave resistance. "Sorry, kid, I didn't know," she said.

Her anger fading as quickly as it had boiled up, Zoe still managed to huff, "There are a lot of things you don't know about us, Janice Covington. And stop calling me kid!"

Despite this, Janice was still not completely convinced. That is, not until she heard Eva speak. "You should listen to her, Miss Covington. Zoe can be of real help to you. She knows these hills, these roads--this whole area--like the back of her hand. Many of the locals might be hesitant or outright unwilling to speak to a foreigner like you. Practically everybody around here knows Zoe. She might be able to learn things no one would ever tell you." Eva laid her hand on the truck and continued, "This old thing looks as though might not make another kilometer anyway. Mister Mikelos' car, on the other hand, is in excellent repair and is very reliable."

Her eyes twinkling, Zoe chimed in, "And faster too,"

Sitting in the seat, Janice shifted her gaze from first one, then to the other of these very intriguing women. Despite her stubbornness, she knew all too well that what Eva said made perfect sense. Still, there was something about their offer that nagged at her. Naturally she was not hesitant in making it known. "You're being very kind," she said. "But tell me, why would you care at all? What's all this to you?"

"What it's all about," said Eva, "is friends. Zoe and I know what it's like to fear for the safety of those we care about."

"Remember you said before that one of them meant more to you than your own life?" said Zoe. Casting a warm glance at Eva, she continued, "Nobody knows what that means better than Evy and I. That's why we want to help you. We understand."

Teasing the girl, Eva added, "Aaand, you were nice to her brother." Zoe blushed and gave Eva a very gentle nudge with her elbow.

For a moment Janice said nothing and it was probably just as well lest the facade that was her tough persona give way under the warm generosity and deep understanding of these two young people. Janice, the fierce individualist, was deeply touched. Finally she began to slowly nod her head. "All right," she said softly, "we'll do it your way." Quickly, however, she held up a finger and added, "But--once we do find these guys you have to promise to let me handle it, okay? I'm pretty sure there's going to be trouble."

"Yeah you said that," a grinning Zoe reminded her.

"I guess I did," said Janice, grinning back at her. She then turned the grin on Eva and said, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's load up Kettering and get out of here."

"To the police station?" Eva asked.

"You just don't give up do you? Okay, you win," said Janice. "Yeah, to the police station."

"You see?" said Zoe. "We can be just as stubborn as you are."

"Just for that," said Janice, "you get to help me with the body."

Zoe waited until Janice was some distance away before she said, "Thanks, Evy, you're the best."

With a slight leer Eva replied, "Ohh you're not getting off that easily. You owe me big for this."

"I do?" In a very suggestive manner Zoe began to trail a finger up Eva's arm. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on!" Janice called out, effectively breaking up their little moment. "I want to get out of here."

Rolling her eyes, Zoe left to join Janice. Eva was turning to go back to the car when she happened to glance inside the truck. There something white caught her eye. Leaning over into the truck, she saw it was a wadded up piece of paper lying on the floor. Idly she picked it up and unfolded it. Instantly she recognized Melinda's note for what it was. "Mein Gott!" she gasped. Holding up the crumpled slip of paper, she raced after Janice and Zoe. "Miss Covington! Miss Covington! You must see this!"

Melinda's bold move had paid off.

Chapter Ten
Flanked by Zoe and Eva, Janice studied the note. Even thought it had obviously been written in great haste and was lacking Melinda's usually very precise hand, Janice nonetheless recognized the lettering as hers. As she read her heart filled with pride over Melinda's level-headed ingenuity in pulling this off. That's my girl! she thought.

To get a better look Zoe shifted her feet and glanced sideways at the note. "What does it mean?" she asked.

Placing her finger under the first word, Janice said, "'Treasure' means she's somehow convinced them to go after the treasure."

"Treasure?" snorted Zoe. "Here? You must be joking."

"No joke, kid," said Janice.

"Even if there was such a thing why would she tell them about it?" asked Zoe.

"A couple of reasons," replied Janice. "First and foremost, to stay alive. Mel knew she had to give them reason to keep both Jack and her alive. Secondly, it tells me where they're headed." Janice shook her head once and, forcing a faint smile, said, "That gal is one smart cookie,"

Pointing at the second work, she murmured, "Brakeman, Brakeman...that has to be a name."

"I believe she means Brachmann," Eva offered up. "B-r-a-c-h-m-a-n-n. It is a rather common German surname. Probably she wrote it phonetically to save time."

Noting the curious way Janice was looking at her, Eva calmly said, "Yes, I grew up in Germany."

For the hot-tempered Zoe this was enough to set her off again. "So what if she did?" she sharply asked Janice. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, kid. No problem," Janice said with a grin.

"Eva is as Greek as I am."

"Hey, I never said anything," Janice reminded the girl. Turning to Eva, she said, "Sorry, I meant no offense."

Eva, lady that she was, merely smiled faintly and said, "I have been working on losing the accent but sometimes it still manages to slip through."

Casting the woman an understanding smile, Janice said, "Let's get out of here."  
 

A half hour later found both of the borrowed vehicles--Eva's car and Janice's truck--parked in front of the police station. Naturally the dead Englishman in the back of Janice's truck garnered everyone's attention. However Kettering's dead body was not all that was being eyed keenly. Just as Janice had thought it might she now felt the situation becoming rather dicey because at the moment more than one pair of eyes was glancing suspiciously in her direction. As the only foreigner in the group she was not surprised.

Fortunately for the archaeologist she wisely chose this moment to keep her mouth shut and let Zoe do all the talking. Listening to Zoe speak to the men, Janice was able to catch only a word every now and then. Still, just from observing their body language it was apparent to her that Zoe was on familiar terms with at least the majority of the men, as indeed she was. Of the five men present Zoe knew three of them quite well and another one casually. One of them, a swarthy fellow by the name of Kostas, had served in the Resistance with her. Another was a childhood friend who had sweated out three years in an Italian prisoner of war camp and still another had been a close friend of Mihali's before the war. All of them knew not only Zoe but, because of Kostas, the role she had played during the war. Because of the courage and undying devotion to the cause she had displayed she was held in high regard by these men. It therefore followed that if the girl told them some German, possibly named Brachmann, had killed this man they knew they could damn well believe it.

Suddenly Zoe turned to Janice. "You do want me to tell them about your friends, right?"

"You might as well for all the good it will do," Janice replied with a sigh. She could feel the weariness returning. "But make it quick. We've wasted enough time on this."

After a brief exchange with the men Zoe again turned to Janice. "You say you think you know which direction they went?"

"Yeah," replied Janice. "North."

"North?" Zoe echoed.

"That's right," said Janice. "Still wanna come?"

Zoe did not even bother to reply. Instead she turned to the policemen and spoke a single word, "North."

Watching this, Janice saw the man to whom Zoe spoke nod thoughtfully and begin to stroke his bearded chin while a couple of the other policemen uncomfortably shifted their weight from one foot to the other. Clearly none of them wanted any part of going north where there was a very real possibility that they might blunder into a band of Communist guerrillas.

Nodding toward the back of the truck, the bearded one spoke again. In Zoe's reply Janice heard her utter "Miles Kettering" and again the bearded man nodded. He then barked out a few terse words and immediately two of the other policemen began taking Kettering off the truck.

Stating the obvious, Zoe said, "They will take him to the morgue."

At the moment, however, Janice was not much interested in what the arrangements were going to be regarding the disposal of Kettering's body. Through tightly clenched teeth she asked "Is this guy satisfied? Can we get going now?"

"Yes," said Zoe.

Looking straight at Janice, the bearded man spoke.

"He says he will do what he can," said Zoe.

"Uhh huhh," Janice grunted. "Right." With that she began to walk back to the truck.

Following her, Zoe said, "You can scoff all you want but you must remember that right now their primary job is to maintain order here, in the town. Their duty is to these people."

"That's fine by me," said Janice. "I didn't ask for their help anyway. As long as they are willing to stay out of my hair and let me handle this my way I don't care what the hell they think their duty is." Casting a sardonic glance back at the bearded policeman, Janice said, "Okay, expert, what's the best northern route?"

"The northwest road," said Zoe. "Toward Kozani."

"You think so?" asked Janice.

If Pydna were my destination it would be how I would go," said Zoe. It's not the most direct route but the road is far better."

"I don't know......" Janice let her words trail off. Despite Zoe's recommendation she was not completely sold on the idea.

Once again this task fell to Eva. "Put yourself in their shoes," she said. "You've just covered fifty kilometers of very bad road. Wound you rather not go a little out of you way to take a smooth road and so avoid subjecting your arse to another pounding?"

Janice shot her an amused look and said, "In the States we say 'ass.' In any case you may be right about the road."

"They wouldn't really be losing any time by taking the detour," Zoe added. "The greater distance would be compensated for by their ability to travel faster."

"It's one hell of a chance," Janice allowed. "But we've got to do something."

"We'll take the car of course," Zoe enthusiastically declared. "You can leave your truck with Mikelos."

"You sure you can square it with the guy?" Janice asked.

"You mean regarding the car? I can square it, as you say," Eva confidently assured her. Looking slyly at the grinning Zoe, she added, "He does think I'm cute, after all."

**********

Melinda Pappas could not remember when she had ever had a more enjoyable evening! First, there had been an early dinner at New York's famous "21 Club" and then on to Broadway to catch a simply marvelous performance of Rogers and Hammerstein's "Oklahoma!"

Now the theater had let out and with night air warm and the hotel only a few blocks away, the two of them decided to just walk back. It really had been a wonderful evening. Janice had been in rare form, the epitome of grace and loveliness. Now as they strolled along the sidewalk they took turns singing the few lines the could remember from the hit musical:

"Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry,
When I take you out in the surrey,
When I take you out in the surrey with the fringe on top...."

"Ev'rythin's up to date in Kansas City.
They've gone about as fur as they c'n go!
They went and built a skyscraper seven stories high,
About as high as a buildin' orta grow..."

"Ooooklahoma, where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain.
And the wavin' wheat can sure smell sweet,
When the wind comes right behind the rain...."

Both of them laughed at Janice's scratchy rendition of the instant classic and then Melinda said, "My favorite, though, was this one..."

"Don't take my arm too much,
Don't keep your hand in mine,
Your hand feels so grand in mine,
People will say we're in love!"

"Well, we are!" said Janice, laughing again. And in that moment Melinda thought her lover had never looked more beautiful! Janice was dressed in an exquisite blue gown which seemed to flow over her lovely figure. With her long blonde hair swept up in a stylish "up-do," the archaeologist's once-in-a-lifetime look of elegance was topped off by a string of pearls Melinda had borrowed from her mother just for this occasion.

As they ambled along the streets of New York, totally oblivious to the world around them, Melinda's eyes simply could not get enough of the gorgeous creature next to her. All these years this was how she had always knew could be if only she had tried--elegant and absolutely stunning. Nearing the hotel, the two women were surprised to find that they pretty much had the sidewalk all to themselves. In a way the sight of the hotel made Melinda a little sad because she wanted this moment to go on forever. True, it was not over quite yet and there was a wonderful night of lovemaking to look forward to but right here--right at this moment, gazing into the smoldering green eyes of the woman she would give her life for, her love, her entire world--all of it--it seemed as if the whole universe had aligned just for this sublime moment.

Caught up in the passion of the moment, Melinda found herself feeling uncharacteristically bold. Suddenly stopping, she called out her lover's name in a low, husky voice, "Jan?"

"Yes?"

"I love you so much! Even before I ever saw you I think I loved you." Moving in close, she added, "And I know I always will!"

Janice responded with a soft smile as she moved in closer still. "Shut up and kiss me," she whispered.

The world be damned! Sidewalk or no, Melinda was going to kiss Janice right here, right now!

Janice, surprised at her own words, sensed the belle was actually going to do it. Like Melinda, she did not care at this particular moment on this wonderful night just who was watching. In fact it she found the prospect very sensual, very thrilling. To accommodate her lover's height she tilted her head slightly back and waited for those sweet lips. Melinda was stirred even more as she saw Janice close her eyes and part her painted lips. As the belle moved in ever closer she could smell the alluring scent of Janice's perfume.

Never in all her life had there been such a night......  
 

Uttering an angry curse in German, Hans hit the brakes hard. The sudden stop threw Melinda forward, waking her, and as her lovely dream evaporated away she thought she caught one last fleeting whiff of Janice's perfume. "Wha, what's going?" she mumbled.

"Some trucks up ahead," Jack answered in a low voice. "Greek army trucks."

Melinda blinked hard a couple of times in an effort to clear away her grogginess. "Huh?"

"While you were asleep we damn near ran up the back of a column of trucks," said Jack.

Melinda was still not completely alert. "Asleep?"

"Jeez, you've been out like a light for at least a half an hour," Jack explained.

Melinda's next reaction, though purely instinctive, nevertheless was one fraught with danger given the present circumstances. "Where's Jan?" she asked.

Alarmed, Jack shot a quick glance to the front seat but was relieved to find that apparently neither Hans nor Brachmann, both intently watching the Greeks up ahead of them, had heard Melinda's blunder. Out of the corner of his mouth he nervously urged, "Ix-nay on at-thay."

Then Melinda remembered. "Ohhh," she said quietly. "Oh yes."

Jack eyed her quizzically and then asked "Are you okay?"

Before his friend could answer Brachmann turned around in irritation and snapped, "Silence!"

But Jack, goaded on by his empty stomach, leaned defiantly leaned forward and asked "Say, when are we going to eat anyway? Janice and I are starving."

In that calm, cold, calculating voice which the unfortunate Zeissler had found so portentous, Brachmann replied, "Mister Pappas, if you are not quiet I will shoot you in the belly and then you can see how well your stomach digests lead. Do you understand?"

"Okay, okay," said Jack, sinking back into his seat. "Gee, fella, no need to get sore."

"Shut up!" Brachmann hissed.

Zoe's appraisal of the situation had proven to be the correct one. Brachmann and Hans had indeed chosen to pass up the more direct coast road in favor of this road which, though more roundabout, was in much better repair. Unfortunately for them the Greek Army had made the same choice. So now here they all were, stuck behind this maddeningly slow moving convoy of trucks, most of which seemed to be patched up reminders of the British Army's former presence in Greece.

With the two captives duly warned, Melinda once more begin to gaze out the window. Off the to west the evening sun had already sunk behind the hills. Soon the light would be failing and she for one was not looking forward to night in the company of those two smiling faces seated up front. As unsettling as that prospect was the thing that she found most disturbing was the question of why Xena had not helped prevent the murder of the hapless Kettering. She was there--Melinda had felt her. Why then, had she held back? Damn it, why?

As the car crept along behind the convoy, a bored Brachmann began to survey the steep hills lining both sides of the winding road. What a perfect place for an ambush this would be, he thought. Fifteen seconds later he was to discover that he was not the only one who thought so.  
 

"Get ready," the older man said.

Five hundred yards away, up on the cliff, a young Greek flipped up the sight on his weapon and, resting the tube on his arm, carefully lined up the sights on the lead truck. Beside him crouched Vassilis, a man twenty-eight years his senior. "Wait for my command," he murmured.

Still steadily holding his aim, the boy grunted, "I'm ready," and lightly fingered the firing mechanism. He was holding a 100mm Panzerfaust, a highly effective anti-tank rocket, captured from the Germans and sent here to the Greek rebels by their Russian "friends."

Vassilis, a former cobbler, was a seasoned pro at this sort of operation, having long ago cut his teeth in fighting first the Italians, then the Germans, later on the British. Now he had turned his considerable tactical skills to killing other Greeks. Dissatisfied with what he perceived to be the vacillating, weak-kneed would--be democratizers, he had come to believe that the only way Greece could possibly hope to carve out a meaningful future for itself was through Communism. It was not going to be easy. Even though the British had finally thrown up their hands and gone home here had come the damn Americans right in behind them, sticking their noses in where it did not belong. This, after all, was an internal dispute. No matter. They had driven out the pompous British, they would drive out the bullying Americans as well. What he and his band of thirty men were about to do as just one more tiny step in that process. It would be a long road to final victory but he and his men were willing to crawl it the whole way if necessary.

For just a moment he allowed his gaze to wander from the convoy, now very near, to glance at the earnest boy beside him. He knew the lad would have bristled at the notion that he was a boy, but at sixteen that was all he really was--a boy. There was, however, nothing childish about the way he fought. No one in the entire unit was a better shot. That was why Vassilis had entrusted him to take out the lead truck. Looking at him--at this very moment Vassilis could not help admire the businesslike way the boy approached his duties. With tense, dark eyes never wavering from their target, his jaw set in grim determination, this boy was ready to do his part.

So was Vassilis. So were all of them, ready to fight--to die--for the cause.

Vassilis patiently waited until the lead truck had drawn up even with their position, a mere fifty yards away. "Now," he calmly told the boy.

The boy launched the rocket and instantly a back blast of smoke and gasses shot forth from the rear of the tube. The football sized warhead was on its way. Vassilis watched for what seemed like an eternity as the rocket's white hot glow streaked toward the target. As always the boy's aim was perfect. The Panzerfaust's warhead hit the truck just above the wheel well, slamming into part of what the Americans would call the "dog house." No sooner had the lead truck burst into flames before a second rocket, an American bazooka round, was sent whooshing on its way toward the truck at the very end of the column, one hundred-fifty yards behind.  
 

Jack Klienman was still thinking about his growling stomach when the two projectiles impacted, the second one hitting the truck directly in front of them. The explosion was deafening as this second rocket hit just behind the cab, right in the truck's exposed gas tank. "Jesus!" was all he could yelp as the truck blew apart in an orange ball of fire.

From the back of the shattered vehicle Melinda saw two dark forms, writhing in agony, spill out onto the crushed gravel of the road. To her utter horror she realized they were men.

The top of the hill became alive with the clatter of small arms fire. Among them were German Mausers, a few old American Springfield 03's, British Enfields and several Russian Mosin-Nagants. Assuming any car following that close to be part of the convoy, the rebels naturally did not exempt Brachmann's vehicle from their attack.

Back inside Brachmann's car Jack instantly recognized the odd sounding clanks of bullets hitting the car. "Get the hell out!" he yelled at Melinda.

Shocked by the suddenness of the attack, Melinda managed to claw open her door and then started to get out on her side, which was the side exposed to the fire.

"No, damn it!" Jack bawled out. Frantically he reached for her. Just as he leaned over an American made 30-06 slug crashed through the window and struck Hans just above the ear. Melinda was in the process of turning to get out when the blood spattered her. Desperate to stop his friend, Jack reached out and grabbed a handful of Melinda's loose shirt. "This way!"

He pulled so hard on her shirt that he ripped all but the bottom most button right off, exposing her bra. At the moment neither of them cared. "Come on!" Jack shouted. He shouldered open his own door and when he literally fell out of the car Melinda scrambled right out over top of him.

Up ahead on the road they could hear new firing as the stunned soldiers began to wildly shoot back. Fearing the car might be hit at any moment, Jack quickly scanned the terrain for a suitable place to hide. Barely twenty yards away he found it. "Mel, we've got to get away from this car. It might blow any second." Pointing to the ditch, he said, "See that?" When the belle jerked her head in an affirmative nod he went on, "Think you can make it?"

Bravely the belle said, "I'm with ya." Jack patted her on the arm and when he got up off the ground and into a crouch Melinda emulated him.

"When I say go, you run like hell," he said. This time Melinda did not get a chance to nod because immediately after this Jack barked out, "Go!" The two friends bolted to their feet and barreled toward the ditch. It was only twenty yards--just about the distance from pitcher's mound to home plate--but to both of them it seemed more like a mile.

Their dash did not go unnoticed. Barely a third of the way to their goal bullets began to whine all about them like deadly bees, kicking up dirt as they hit the ground all around Melinda and Jack.

At long last the two reached the ditch. Once there Jack saw the ditch was not as deep as he had thought. Still, it would have to do. Without hesitation he roughly shoved his friend into the ditch and unceremoniously jumped right in on top of her, covering her with his own body.

"Oww!" Melinda yelped.

"Shut up and keep your head down!" Jack growled back.

In all this it was a miracle that the belle's glasses had stayed in place but now with Jack pressing her face down into the rocky soil she suddenly felt the need to take them off.

"Stop squirming and be still!" said Jack.

Barely six minutes into the attack it was all over. Once again Vassilis had planned perfectly. The hail of fire from his men on the hill had driven those men not killed in that first few seconds to desperately seek cover under and behind the trucks. There they afforded perfect targets for the other half of Vassilis' men who had been cleverly hidden farther up the same draw where Jack and Melinda had found cover. By the time the firing ended not a single one of the beleaguered soldiers was left alive.

As for Jack he was not sure just how long he lay there after the firing ceased. It could have been minutes or mere seconds. From his navy experiences he had found that in moments of danger time often seemed to come to a standstill. Finally he raised his face out from Melinda's soft hair and cautiously took a peek up over the low embankment. What he saw did nothing to lift his spirits. For there, standing at the edge of the ditch, were two men with rifles pointed directly at him. "Shit!" he grumbled.

Hearing this, Melinda lifted her cheek up out of the dust. "What is it?" she tentatively asked. "Are they gone?"

It was then that one of the men, a heavy set fellow with a leathery face and large, sunken eyes, jerked the barrel of his rifle up, indicating that he wanted the two Americans to get up out of the ditch.

Warily eyeing the man, Jack rolled off the belle. Slowly he said, "Sister, you ain't even close."

Free at last from Jack's weight, Melinda put her glasses back on and once she able to see what he meant, modestly reached up with her hands to close her shirt. "Oh myyyy."

"Boy," Jack muttered in disgust, "talk about one bad day."

He got no argument from Melinda.

**********

By the time Janice and her two companions came upon the carnage wrought by Vassilis and his men night had fallen. Flashing all about she saw beams of light. These very much reminded her of that night during the Spanish Civil War when she had watched from a rooftop in Madrid as the searchlights reached up into the night sky like long, slender fingers. This was not all. On the side of the hills was the flickering light from the dying flames of the one truck still burning. For Janice it was the first indication that something was wrong.

As they approached the three women could see several men silhouetted against the light, some standing, some walking around, some just idly milling about. When they were about a hundred yards from the site a man stepped out from the darkness onto the road and began to wave a flashlight from side to side.

"I think they want us to stop," said Zoe.

"We are stopping," said Eva resolutely. "Be nice, Zo," she cautioned. "The last thing we need is trouble." Carefully she brought the car to a stop.

Almost immediately the car was flanked on either side by a man dressed in the uniform of a Greek soldier. The man on Eva's side, the driver's side, was the one bearing the flashlight and this he now turned on the occupants of the car. Briefly he held it on each squinting face before moving on to the next. When it came Janice's turn the soldier kept the light on her. "Who are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm the deputy director for the Interpreter Section of the Australian Office of Immigration," Eva replied.

For her part Janice was impressed. The soldier with the flashlight was not. "Not you," he snapped at Eva. Leveling the flashing at Janice, he said, "Her."

Undaunted, Eva coolly answered, "She is an American archaeologist, here under the auspices of the Greek government."

"An American, eh? Why are all of you out here?"

"We are going to Pydna," said Eva.

"This is not the road to Pydna," the soldier informed her.

Eva shot him a look of surprise. "It isn't?"

"Are you lost?" asked the soldier.

With an apologetic little smile, Eva said, "It would seem so." It was then she saw the soldier's eyes begin to wander back to Janice. Evidently he was not convinced. She had to do something. Tilting her head slightly back, she asked "What happened up there? An accident?"

The soldier averted his scrutinizing gaze from Janice. With a snort he said, "Hardly. It was those godless Communists. They ambushed a supply convoy."

"Oh dear!" Eva gasped. "Are we in any kind of..." Her pause was perfectly timed. "...danger?"

"Huh? Oh no, miss," the soldier reassured her. "No, you're all right. Those devils are long gone."

With a demonstrative sigh of relief, Eva said, "Thank goodness!" Her eyes doe-like, Eva added, "I know we are all safe in your capable hands, sergeant."

"Private, miss," the soldier corrected her. Nevertheless he was pleased by this beauty's calculated misinterpretation of his rank. After all, he had long considered himself NCO material.

Listening to this exchange from her seat in the back, Janice admiringly thought, Smooooth. Very smooth. In one deft stroke Eva had maneuvered the wary man's attention away from Janice and a possible time consuming interrogation to that thing which had for centuries been the bane and a never ending source of frustration for regular soldiers--the armed guerrilla.

"Since you say it is safe can we please pass now?" asked Eva.

Standing erect, the soldier said, "I'm afraid not, miss. They are still picking up bodies up there."

"The road looks clear enough now," observed Zoe.

"I'm sorry, I've got my orders. The lieutenant would have my ass on a platter if I were to let you pass."

"Come back in the morning," said the other solider, speaking for the first time. "We should have this place cleaned up by then."

"Up by that last truck is a wide place in the road," said the first soldier. "You can turn around there."

"Thank you," said Eva. Slowly she pull away from the two men. No sooner were they clear when Janice leaned forward. "Is there a back road around here that will take us around this mess?"

"Not close by," said Zoe. "I suppose we will just have to wait."

"Fuck!" Janice muttered under her breath. For her it was one of those frustrating moments where she felt things could not possibly get worse. Despite the grimness of the situation, however, Janice was still able to maintain a sense of confidence about it all. All her life she had struggled against obstacles of one sort or another and every time--every time--she had prevailed. To be sure such adventures as the race for the Star of Turkey were hardly comparable to what she was facing now but it nevertheless reinforced in her mind the old Branch Rickey adage that "Luck is the residue of design."

Nobody subscribed to this idea more than Janice Covington. Time and time again she had proved that with determination, hard work and extensive use of the gray matter between the ears one could more often than not make their own luck. Still, at this trying moment she would have all too gladly accepted any break that might come her way.

She immediately got one.

They neared the place they were to turn around and for the first time Janice noticed the car sitting at the tail end of the shattered convoy. As soon as she saw it a strange feeling flooded over her but it took another moment or two before something clicked in her brain. It is! she thought.

"It" looked like the very same automobile Janice had seen from the gully that had served as her latrine back on the road to Larissa earlier in the day. Remembering back to the approximate time the car had passed her, Janice did some mental calculations on times and distances and decided to play a hunch. Her voice insistent, Janice said, "When you pull off to turn around, stop for a moment. I'm going to get out."

This elicited a simultaneous "What's wrong?" from a surprised Eva and "Why?" from Zoe.

"I want to take a look inside that car," replied the archaeologist."

"But why?" Zoe asked again.

"No time to explain," Janice said. "Just take your time turning around, okay?"

Eva nodded and began to ease the car off the road. Just as she started to ever so slowly make the turn, Janice opened her door and rolled out. Zoe deftly closed the door behind her and Janice, crouching low, quickly made her way to the car. After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching she yanked open the door and leaned in for a look. Naturally the light inside the car was not very good and so it was some few moments before her eyes adjusted enough to make out the dark form of the dead Hans still slumped sideways in the front seat. In rapid fashion Janice swept her hands over first the seat and then the floor of the car. In truth she had no idea what she was looking for. She just hoped to find something--anything--that might be of help. Mel was a clever girl. If indeed this was the car that had taken her away perhaps she had left something behind.

It was in the back seat that Janice's faith in her friend's moxie was rewarded. Groping in the darkness, her fingers brushed against something. Holding it up to the light of the burning truck, Janice immediately recognized it as Melinda's notebook.

A scant ten seconds later she was back in the car with Eva and Zoe. The whole thing had taken barely a minute and fortunately for all of them no one had noticed the lithe figure stealing about.

"Any luck?" Zoe anxiously asked.

"They were here all right," Janice said breathlessly. She held up the notebook and said, "This belongs to Mel."

"Maybe we should ask if someone has seen them," Eva suggested. "Maybe they were..." Catching herself, she uncomfortably let her words trail off.

"They're not dead," Janice resolutely replied, finishing Eva's thought for her.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Zoe.

Janice shot her a withering look. How dare you suggest Mel is dead! she silently raged. Aloud, though, all she did was bite her tongue and answer, "Because there's still a dead guy in there. If Mel and Jack were dead they would probably still be in there as well."

Zoe, unable to see the black look on Janice's face because of the darkness, asked "You think the man is Brachmann?"

"Who knows?" Janice said with a shrug. "Maybe."

"So what do we do?" asked Eva.

"Well for starters let's get the hell out of here," Janice offered up. At that moment the three of them saw the clouds in the night sky suddenly illuminated by a great flash of lightning off to the southwest.

"Looks like it's going to rain," Zoe casually observed. "Maybe a big one."

A few seconds later they heard the long, low accompanying rumble of thunder. "That's just great," Janice disgustedly grumbled. As far as she was concerned the last thing she needed was to be held up by muddy roads.

Eva, however, was of a different mind. "As you must know the summer has been unusually dry," she said evenly. "The land needs the rain."

As irritated as she was, Janice had to concede there was no disputing that. In the weeks she had been in Greece Janice could only remember it having rained once. With a sigh of resignation the archaeologist said, "Well, I guess it's a night in the car for us."

Zoe had her thoughts upon other arrangements. Turning to Eva, she said in Greek, "About five kilometers back there is a lane that leads to an old abandoned cottage. We could spend the night there."

"Sounds good to me," said Eva. Then with a mischievous grin she added, "I can handle being cooped up with one manic spitfire but not two."

Zoe shook her head and said, "Hmph, this one is manic enough for the both of us."

In the back Janice somehow sensed that this exchange had something to do with her. "Hey come on guys," she prodded. "What are you two up to?"

Grinning devilishly, Zoe said, "Evy thinks you're manic." This immediately earned the girl a punitive little slap on the arm from an embarrassed Eva.

As for Janice, instead of this setting off her legendary temper she uncharacteristically chose to take Zoe's playful barb in stride. She knew the girl was only having a little fun. Besides, she recognized it as the kind of thing she herself might do to Mel given half the chance. Janice saw a lot of herself in Zoe and more than anything this was why she now pursed her lips and said, "Eva's right. Anybody who knows me will tell you I'm a little crazy. Jeez, just ask Mel." Still, she could not resist a mild comeback of her own. "But ya know, I'm not the only one in this car whose mainspring is wound a little too tight."

"Amen," said Eva, quietly punctuating Janice's statement.

Zoe pretended to be aghast. "Eee-vee!" she whined. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am, dear," Eva assured her. Then she slyly added, "But you must admit you do get a little hyper sometimes."

The two of them began to playfully banter back and forth in Greek and as she had earlier in the day, Janice again saw the unmistakable expressions of love and tenderness pass between them. Those two were in love, no doubt about it. Janice was glad for them but in truth it did little to ease the terrible feeling of emptiness in her own heart. That part of her life which was pure and good and wonderful was gone and for Janice it was as if someone had cruelly ripped away a part of her very soul. Barely eight hours apart, Janice nevertheless missed Melinda so badly she could hardly stand it. Moreover, she was worried far more than she would ever openly admit to her two companions. Of course she and Melinda had spent time apart before but never under circumstances such as these. Melinda had been stolen from her, plain and simple, and Janice was prepared to move heaven and earth to get her back. But always, lingering in the back of her mind like some kind of malignant growth, was the chilling knowledge that despite her confident assurances to the contrary Melinda might at this very moment be suffering any number of abuses, lying hurt somewhere--alone, or even--

Desperately Janice tried not to think about this last, horrible alternative. Just as Melinda had done earlier in the day, so too did Janice now say said a prayer for the safe return of her best friend and lover. God, sweetheart, I miss you so much!

**********

At that very same moment some ten kilometers away Melinda felt a rough hand grab her by the shoulder. Speaking in Greek, a voice gruffly said, "Stop here!" Deprived of her sense of sight, the belle strained to pick up any sound that might give an indication of what was going on.

Within minutes of their capture both she and Jack had been blindfolded and since then the two of them had been stumbling along in the darkness, up and down rocky hills, for what seemed like hours. Now as she heard a hand knock on a wooden door right it looked as though their long march was finally at an end.

From the other side a raspy voice, also in Greek, barked out, "Enter."

Melinda heard the creaking of a set of hinges badly in need of oil and a split second later a hand pushed her forward. Once inside her tight blindfold was at long last removed. She hoped that her bound hands--tied with taken from the boots of one of the dead soldiers--would also be freed but this did not happen. Since her hands were tied she was not able to reach the glasses one of her captors had stuck in her shirt pocket while she was being blindfolded. Now all she saw were blurry figures looming all around her.

"Could somebody please help me with my glasses?" she asked.

From across the room she heard a few terse words in Greek followed by one the blurry figures moving in close. 'With surprising gentleness the blurry figure put her glasses on for her and stepped back. He and the other blurry figures snapped into focus. Melinda blinked a couple of times and looked at Jack.

"You all right, kid?" he asked. Melinda nodded that she was.

With a quick look around Melinda saw the they were in a dimly lit one room shack. The floor was dirt and there were not furnishings as such--only a couple of wide planks supported on each end by a crate to form a makeshift table which held two flickering candles. Behind this table stood two men, one with arms folded, standing tall and straight, the other in a more deferential posture. The man with folded arms was Vassilis and at the moment his dark, impassive eyes were locked in on his comely prisoner with the long black hair.

From the other side of the table Melinda saw how intently he was looking at her and it was all she could do to avoid averting her own eyes. Though very uncomfortable she knew this again was not the time for any display of hesitancy or weakness. As with Brachmann she would now have to once again try to be more like Janice. However Melinda Pappas was not Janice Covington and despite the necessity of presenting a strong front this sort of boldness was so very hard for her. Given a chance, the soft-spoken Southerner preferred to avoid confrontation. Indeed, she had always been more than willing to let the forceful Janice handle any contentious situation that might arise. And why not? she reasoned. Janice was so good at that sort of thing. But Janice was not here and just as before with Brachmann Melinda again assumed as best she could the air of a confident, strong-willed woman.

Returning Vassilis' steely gaze, Melinda boldly asked, "Are you in charge here?"

Vassilis' only reaction was to turn slightly toward the curly haired man at his side, all the while keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the lovely foreigner. The curly haired man was tall, fairly thin for his height and looked to be perhaps in his late twenties. He murmured something to Vassilis and to Melinda it became apparent that this man would be serving as the interpreter.

Vassilis said something to the man and this he dutifully relayed back to Melinda. "Yes, I am in charge. And I am also the one who will ask the questions. Now, who are you?"

Unlike with Brachmann Melinda saw no compelling reason here to lie about her identity. "My name is Melinda Pappas."

This perked the rebel commander's curiosity. "Pappas? You don't look Greek. Is that your married name or are you really of Greek ancestry?"

"The latter," said Melinda. "Although admittedly we are a few generations removed from this country."

In 1728 a sixteen year old boy named Nikolos had found his way to the colony of South Carolina as an indentured servant. There, through many years of struggle and hardship, Nikolos persevered and eventually prospered enough so that by the time of his death in 1774 he had firmly established himself and his burgeoning family among the elite of Charleston, thus laying the foundation for both the considerable affluence and influence the Pappas' of Charleston still enjoyed right up to the present day. Correctly guessing who these men were, however, Melinda wisely chose not to volunteer anything about her upper class background.

"You speak English but you are not British," Vassilis astutely observed. "You are American."

"That's right," said Jack. "We are. And I'd like to protest the way we've been treated by your goons here."

Turning to Jack, Vassilis brusquely inquired, "And you are?"

"Jack Kleinman. And my friend and I demand that you release us PDQ."

"Demand all you want," Vassilis said with a shrug.

"Why are you holding us?" Melinda asked. "Just because we're Americans? We're no threat to you."

"How stupid do you think we are?" Vassilis scoffed. "You were found in army convoy. An army loyal to a repressive government that we are fighting to overthrow."

Only now did it dawn on Jack just who these men were. "Hey, you guys are Reds!"

"Your powers of perception astonish me," Vassilis sneered after hearing the translation. "But we prefer to think of ourselves as patriots."

"Look, we're just here doing some archaeologist work," Melinda tried to explain. "We just happened to be following those trucks, that's all." At this point she figured there was no use going into any details about their recent abduction. It was then that a disturbing thought came to her. Where was Brachmann? In all the confusion he seemed to have disappeared.

Unconvinced, Vassilis countered, "You want to know what I think? I think you are agents of your meddlesome American government. I think you are probably here to assist in administering your so-called Marshall Plan. You Americans. You're worse than the British. You arrogantly come in here throwing your money around and you think we're all supposed to fall to our knees and kiss your hand in gratitude."

Irked by this, all Jack could blurt out was, "You're nuts! We were just mindin' our own business and you palookas go and try to make Swiss cheese out of us."

Melinda's reply was a bit more to the point. "I don't know what that has to do with us. We are just private citizens and in no way represent the American government." However she could not resist adding, "My country just wants to see Europe get back on its feet."

"I'm sure all of western Europe is touched by your altruism," sneered Vassilis. "Of course, the real motive for your generosity couldn't possibly be a feeble attempt to stem the rising tide of Communism, could it? Well let me tell you something--the Greek people are not for sale! We made the Germans bleed, we threw out the British and we'll throw you out too."

Looking him squarely in the eye, Melinda evenly replied, "Europe just went through six long years of war. The whole continent is suffering. Haven't you seen enough war? Enough suffering? Enough death? Besides, I don't see the Soviet Union offering to help."

"We will set things right once we take power," Vassilis confidently assured her. "Only through Communism can Greece be made strong again."

"Isn't that curious?" said Melinda coldly. "You profess to be of the people yet it's always through the barrel of a gun that you gain control."

"All over the world we rising up to throw off the shackles of decadent money worshippers like you. One day you will see your children become Communists." He grinned malevolently and added, "Maybe you too if you live that long."

Jack Klienman had heard enough. Having just recently given two years of his life to fighting one form of totalitarianism, he had no desire now to listen to the venomous spoutings of another. "Spare us the commercial, pal," he defiantly shot back. "And while you're at it you can tell your Uncle Joe for me that he can kiss my ass!"

Fortunately for Jack, Vassilis largely ignored him as indeed he had all along. Instead he abruptly said, "We will leave this stimulating debate of political philosophy for another time." Perhaps it was because that, except for the aid they provided, the Greek cared nothing about Josef Stalin or the Soviet Union. More likely the reason was he found the man's companion with the glasses infinitely more interesting. Vassilis was very sensitive about such things and though this unusually tall woman was soft spoken she had courage. More than that, he thought he detected a certain latent aura of menace about her. Deep within her he sensed an underlying, almost feral quality of the spirit which in every way was so markedly different from what he had seen of her so far. Yes, there was something about her...

"Please let us go," said the object of his scrutiny. "Like I said we are just private citizens here to do some archaeological work."

Vassilis walked around from behind the makeshift table and positioned himself in front of the intriguing woman. God! She was beautiful! "I would like to believe you," he said. "I really would. However even if what you say is true I cannot risk releasing you at the moment."

"Why the hell not?" said Jack. "You know good and well we're no threat to you."

"We are at a critical hour now and I will not allow our operations to be compromised," said Vassilis.

"Bullshit!" exclaimed Jack. "We don't even know where we are."

"And it is going to stay that way," said Vassilis, shooting him a stern glance.

"What are you going to do with us?" Melinda warily asked.

"I haven't decided yet," was Vassilis' terse reply. Looking over Melinda's shoulder, he barked out a crisp order to the men behind her. "Have Martos take these two and put them in the cave. Tell him he'd better not fall asleep! And get something to tie up this lady's blouse."

**********

From behind the steering wheel Eva peered out past the car's headlights and into the darkness ahead. "Zo, how much farther is it?" she asked.

"It shouldn't be more than another hundred meters or so," Zoe answered. In truth she was no longer sure. The old dirt lane, its center high with weeds, had proven to be longer than she remembered. As a child she had skipped along down this lane after her brothers more times than she could count. But that was before the war. Before the Germans came.

Almost as soon as they had turned off onto the lane Zoe's mood had changed from one of coltish playfulness to one much more somber. Leaning forward, Janice asked her "How do you know about this place?"

When Zoe did not immediately answer Janice decided not to press it. Given the tragedy of recent years Janice could pretty much guess what had happened. For her part Eva too was surprised by Zoe's sudden mood shift and it was not until the neglected little house with the faded red shutters loomed in the headlights that her little friend finally spoke. As the first drops of rain began to fall on the windshield she said, "In the spring of 1943 a man wanted by the Germans was found hiding out in this house." The girl paused for a moment as if gathering herself before proceeding. "When the fugitive was found the owner of the house, who naturally had denied hiding anyone, was shot on the spot. His wife was taken away. We never learned for certain where although it was almost assuredly to a concentration camp. We never saw her again. We did learn later on that their only son, sixteen years old--only a little older than me--was sent into forced labor in Germany."

She paused again before adding, "He lasted ten months before finally starving to death."

Noting the emotion in the girl's voice, Janice said, "They were friends of yours, weren't they?"

Eva pulled the car in next to the house and shut off the engine. Zoe stared at the house still illuminated by the car's headlights. "They were family," she said softly. "My Uncle Stephanos and my Aunt Sarina. Some treacherous collaborator informed on them." With quiet grimness she went on, "If I ever find the bastard..."

Eva gently touched Zoe's hand and said, "You never told me."

Her voice laced with a bitterness that only someone who had lost their entire family could understand, Zoe replied, "What's one more drop of sadness in a sea of sorrow?" The light reflecting off the white house fell back onto Zoe's face and the harsh shadows created by her features gave her face a sunken quality that made her suddenly seem so much older.

"I'm sorry, kid," said Janice. In the light of what Zoe had just related to them this was inadequate to be sure but what else could she say?

Under her breath Zoe softly answered, "Me too."

Tenderly her friend suggested, "Maybe we should go somewhere else."

"No, Evy," said Zoe. "Uncle Stephanos won't mind. We'll be safe here because he'll watch over us tonight." She then nodded toward the windshield and said, "Besides, the rain is beginning to come down harder."

And so it was. The three of them just made it into the house before the downpour began in earnest. Through flashes of lightning they saw the interior of the house was in shambles. The biggest part of the damage had been done that terrible day the Germans came but vandals and other visitors had left their mark behind as well. While Zoe took a look around Janice broke up a couple of the old chairs and went to work trying to build a fire on the dusty hearth. A mighty rumble of thunder crashed overhead, so loud that is shook the old house. Echoing Jack's earlier sentiments, Janice glumly muttered, "What a fucking day!"  
 

An hour later Zoe lay peacefully sleeping in front of the fire on the old blanket she had found. Behind her sat Eva, her endless legs stretched out beside the sleeping girl, and the lithe Janice, sitting Indian style an arm's length away. For the most part the thunder and lightning had died away and the only sound to be heard now was the soft patter of rain.

Looking at the sleeping Zoe, Janice said, "Looks like the kid is worn out."

"Zoe brings so much energy to everything she does," said Eva. She emitted a low chuckle and added, "She's the only person I know who can make simply sitting in a chair into an Olympic event."

Janice smiled at this and quietly pitched a couple mores sticks of wood onto the fire. "How long have you known her?" she asked.

"Three years," Eva answered. Only in her mind did she add, Three sublime, glorious years!

Three years, thought Janice. Gee, the kid couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen then. She wondered if the two of them had been lovers from the start or had it taken them some time as it had with Melinda and her. Not that it really mattered. War has a way of making even the young grow up quickly and Zoe obviously had been through a lot. "You say you guys live in Australia now?"

"Yes."

"But I take it you were here during the occupation."

"Yes," Eva said again. "Zoe had lived in Larissa all her life." Her voiced measured and even she then said, "I moved there in 1944." Though she knew Janice was probably just making conversation she was already becoming uncomfortable with the woman's inquiries. What was past was past and she had no interest in dredging up all its painful memories.

But Janice was not yet finished. "So what made you decide to move halfway around the world? Especially to Australia? It's not the most hospitable place to foreigners."

"A fresh start," Eva tersely explained. "By the end of the war this scarred land no longer held anything for either of us and it served only as a constant reminder of the suffering--the four long years of misery so many had endured. Yes, I wanted to leave but more importantly I felt it was imperative to get Zoe out of Greece any way I could before the endless strife broke her spirit for good." Eva looked down at the softly breathing Zoe and was barely able to keep her emotions in check. "She's lost so much," she said. "Her home, her entire family.....so much."

Gathering herself, Eva resolutely lifted up her chin and said, "So, like the Israelites in Exodus, Zoe and I went looking for our own Canaan. And it was that Australia became our 'Land of Milk and Honey.'"

Eva looked away into the fire. Silently she rebuked herself for having revealed so much. It was not like her to do so. Past experiences had made her mistrustful of others and yet here was this intense American, pumping her as if she belonged on some old well box. Well two could play at that game, she allowed, and then went on the offensive herself. "And your friend," she suddenly said. "What about her?"

"What about her?" Eva shot her a wry look and Janice said, "Macedonia, seven years ago. That was when I first met Mel. It was an ahh...interesting experience."

Eva did not beat around the bush. Right away she came back with the most provocative of questions. "And you two have been a couple ever since?"

Janice looked at her with more than a little surprise. She had not expected such a trenchant remark from the quiet Greek. Even so, the question did not embarrass her. Melinda Rose Pappas was hers and she had never given a damn who knew it. However the question had aroused her curiosity and this was why she asked "What makes you say that?"

"Come on," said Eva, as she flashed the archaeologist a knowing little smile, "I see the passion in your eyes every time you just mention her name."

Janice looked hard at her and said, "Well you've got me there," Janice conceded. "I don't have many friends. I don't need any. In fact I only have one that really matters to me."

"This one," Eva quietly observed.

"Yeah, this one. Mel is my business associate, partner, best friend...lover--all of that and more. In fact she's just about my whole life."

Eva could not help but admire the no nonsense, matter-of-fact way in which Janice had stated this. It also got her to thinking. In a halting voice she asked "Are you two, you know...a lot alike?"

Needless to say Janice found this highly amusing. Pulling up the corner of her mouth into a little half-smile, she said, "God no! We're as different as daylight and dark. Mel is tall and beautiful and she has this gentle grace--not a physical grace 'cause she's clumsy as hell--but a kind of inner grace."

"You mean a spiritual grace?" asked Eva.

"In a way, I guess," said Janice. "She's kind and gentle and thoughtful--smart as hell. I suppose what I mean is she's one of those special people that makes everybody lucky enough to come in contact with her feel good." Janice wryly grinned again and said, "You've seen how I am so you know the same can hardly be said about me. But I love Mel. I'd die for her."

By the firelight Eva intently studied Janice's face for a few moments and then finally said, "Janice Covington, you are a fraud."

Again Janice was caught by surprise. This woman was much more than she seemed. "Huh?"

"I think you are what you Americans call a phony."

At this remark Janice found herself becoming a little warm. "What are you talking about?"

"I think that down deep you are not the--pardon the word--bitch--you would have others believe that you are. I think you are a very nice, caring person who for whatever reason has chosen to put up this angry facade."

Janice conspiratorially glanced about the room and, putting a hand to her cheek, leaned close to Eva and whispered, "Well don't let this get out, okay, sister? Otherwise it would ruin my reputation as a hard ass."

Now it was Eva's turn to grin and for the next hour or so they sat there by the fire, quietly talking about love, war and everything in between while young Zoe peacefully slept to the soothing sound of the steadily pouring rain hitting the old wood shingled roof. In the process the two women went a long way toward becoming fast friends. At last Eva stretched out her long frame next to her Zoe and soon fell under the spell of Somnus. Janice held out as long as she could, lying there on the floor and thinking of Melinda but eventually she too fell asleep just as the rain finally began to let up.  
 

Sometime in the early morning hours, long after the fired had died out, a pair of eyes snapped open and a lithe figure bolted upright. In her dreams there had been two images swirling around in her mind until they had meshed into one. One was of a strangely dressed woman--proud in bearing and armed with a magnificent looking sword. The other--once familiar to her mostly forgotten now--but nevertheless one which had left an indelible mark on her young life. And though not quite sure how the woman fit it but Zoe was sure there was indeed a connection somehow. Yes, it all was all as clear as glass now. Peeved, she wondered why had she not thought of the place before.

On all fours Zoe Lambros crept over to where Janice lay sleeping by the door. "Janice. Janice, wake up!"

"Mmmmm?"

Shaking the archaeologist by the shoulder, Zoe repeated, "Wake up."

Janice rolled over and groggily peered up at the dark form looming over her. "What is it, kid?" she groaned.

"We need to get moving."

"Why?"

"I think I know where your friends are!"

Chapter Eleven
The wind off the rain storm was chilling as it gusted into the mouth of the cave and it made Melinda shudder. Sitting next to her, Jack felt the belle tremble. "You cold?" he asked.

"A little," she admitted.

On the other side of the narrow cave their guard sat dozing next to a hissing lantern. "Hey, laughing boy," Jack called out. The guard awoke with a wild-eyed start and, realizing where he was, sullenly squinted at the troublesome American. If not for these two he would have well on his way by now. As it was Vassilis had ordered him to stay behind and keep an eye on the two prisoners. Of all the luck! Why, he sulkily wondered, was he the one who was always chosen for the shit jobs? It was enough to make a man want to desert.

Trying to cheer up his friend, Jack cracked, "Look at the mug on that guy. He's uglier than I am! My God, I've seen better faces on an iodine bottle. Hey, Gable, where'd ya get that puss? You try to kiss a buzz saw or something?"

Despite their predicament Melinda was unable to keep from snickering at Jack's barbs. With his pock marked face, his narrow set beady eyes and unbelievably thick eyebrows their guard was indeed quite ugly. For Melinda the whole thing was made even funnier by the fact that the man obviously did not understand a word of what Jack was saying. He just sat there sullenly staring back an them. Then again perhaps for her friend's sake it was for the best because the man looked to be capable of anything.

As for Jack it made him feel good to know that he was amusing Melinda in some small way. It was then that another cold wind blasted through the cave, causing Melinda to shudder again.

"Here, kid," said Jack, "maybe I can help." Under the guard's watchful eye Jack got to his knees and laboriously worked his way around in front of Melinda in order to block the wind off her. "There now," he said. "Is that better?"

"Yes, much," said the grateful belle. For a few moments all was quiet except for the hissing of the guard's kerosene lantern. Finally Melinda spoke again. "Jack?"

"Hmmm?"

"Aahm really glad you're here."

For once the usually garrulous Jack was at a loss for words. "Gee, kid..." For all his quirkiness Jack Kleinman had never been one to kid himself. All his life he had been a loser--a nobody--and he knew it. Now in five short words this beauty beside him had maybe for the first time in his life made him feel as if he actually mattered--as if he was somebody!

Melinda snuggled close and together the two of them waited out the long night, fitfully sleeping and keeping warm as best they could.

Sometime in the early morning hours Vassilis made his decision. The Americans, he decided, were telling the truth. As far as he was concerned that made the question as to what to do with them a moot point. Vassilis considered himself a warrior fighting for a just cause. He was a soldier--not a murderer of innocents. The Americans would not be harmed. Sooner or later they would realize they were unguarded and would simply get up and walk out. He was little concerned about their learning the location of this hiding place. From what his brother had told him about the buildup of government forces in the area he doubted he and his men would be back here anytime soon anyway.

A short time later Martos saw his commander appear just at the periphery of the lantern's faint glow. With a faint whistle Vassilis beckoned to the man and quietly the two rebels made their way back down the path toward the cabin. Within thirty minutes Vassilis entire command had melted away into the dark Greek countryside.

Just as dawn was breaking Melinda awoke and saw a silhouette standing at the mouth of the cave. By now the lantern had gone out so she could not make out his face but still, there was something disturbingly familiar about the form advancing into the cave.

"Hello, Covington." Melinda could hear the smirk in the voice. "I trust you slept well?"

It was Brachmann.

**********

Janice Covington blinked hard a couple of times and sat up. "Wha...what do you mean?"

"I think I know where we might find your friends," said Zoe.

Now Janice was wide awake. "Oh, Jesus!" she cried. "Really?"

This outburst woke up Eva and it was now her turn to roll over and sleepily sit up. In Greek she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"We have to go," said Zoe.

"Where?" Eva asked.

"Up in the hills, to the west," Zoe replied in English, "there are a series of small caves that are almost invisible from the air. During the war they were occasionally used by the Resistance." She turned back to Janice and said, "Maybe a different sort of resistance is using them now. However we must hurry, these men must surely be aware there are former Resistance fighters loyal to the government who know about those caves. Now that they have made their presence known I would expect them to leave at first light."

"It's worth a shot," said Janice. She glanced out the door and noted that the rain had stopped. "These caves," she asked, "you know where they are?"

With an assuring nod Zoe replied, "I know where they are."

"Well what are we waiting for?" said Janice. "Let's haul ass!"

**********

At last the form was close enough and the face of Karl Brachmann, dirty and blood smeared, came into view. With a mocking smile he said, "My my, Covington, trouble certainly seems to have a way of following you around, doesn't it?"

Hoping to put up a brave front Melinda pretended to ignore his remark. "What happened to the rebels?" she asked.

"Oh them. They're gone," said Brachmann. They moved out about an hour ago. I guess they decided you weren't worth the trouble of killing." He then gave Jack a sharp nudge with his foot. "Wake up, Pappas," he curtly ordered.

"How did you find us?" asked Melinda.

"I followed you up here," replied Brachmann matter-of-factly. "I've been up on that freezing ridge all night, watching. You didn't think I was going to let a few ragged partisans keep me away now did you?"

Very reluctantly Jack began to stir. When he saw who was kneeling between Melinda and himself he let out a despondent groan. "Oh no."

"I am pleased to see you too, Pappas," Brachmann said with a sneer.

Reaching into his pocket, Brachmann took out a long, slender object which the refined Melinda did not recognize. But Jack did. Back in the tough "Joisey" streets where he grew up a switchblade knife had been as common as a cop on the take. When Brachmann flicked the knife open Jack initially feared the worst but his apprehension faded if only a little when he saw the German lean forward and cut the heavy lace binding Melinda's hands.

Free at last, the belle worked her aching shoulders in little circles.

"Where is the tablet?" Brachmann asked.

"Damn," Jack muttered. "Talk about a one track mind."

Assuming Janice's sharp demeanor, Melinda snapped, "How the hell do we know? We were too busy savin' our own skins back there to worry about a stupid hunk of clay."

Brachmann folded up the knife and returned it to his pocket. "How unfortunate," he declared. He smiled thinly and went on, "At any rate it does not matter. I have you and I think that is all I need."

"What do yuh mean?" she warily asked.

In menacing tones the German answered, "I mean we are going to Pydna and you are going to find that treasure for me."

Trying to remain calm, Melinda said, "Without the tablet it's impossible. Don't you see that?"

The smile on his face faded and Brachmann breathed a heavy sigh of impatience. Once more he produced the knife and in a menacing tone said, "Covington, we can do this the easy way..." He held the knife up to her face and switched it open. "...or we can do it the hard way. It's your choice but either way you will cooperate."

Furious at the threat to his friend, Jack roared, "Leave her alone, you slimy son of a bitch!" This outburst earned him a vicious kick to the ribs from Brachmann.

"Mel!" Melinda shrieked. Before she could rush to him the German caught her by the arm and jerked her to him. "One more word out of either of you and he dies!" he growled. "You're coming with me. Now!"

However he was surprised by Melinda's strength and she wrenched free from him. "Let me go!" she cried. Still, the German was not to be denied. Quickly exchanging his knife for his pistol, Brachmann leveled it at her and said, "If you do not move right now I will shoot you both right here."

Again Melinda resorted to the same tack she had used before. "You kill us," she warned, "and you'll never see that treasure."

"Oh I think I will," Brachmann confidently replied. "You see I don't think you're so brave as you would have me believe. I also would wager you have already memorized every detail on that tablet." He looked down at Jack. "So I think you will be of no further use to me."

"You think you've got it all worked out, doncha?" Jack said caustically.

Brachmann scornfully ignored him and with a jerk of his revolver said to Melinda, "Let's go."

Melinda wanted to ask Brachmann about Jack but held back in the hope that now that the German had what he wanted he would be willing to leave her friend alone. In the end there was nothing she could so in resignation she started toward the mouth of the cave.

Jack, however, was not finished. "Touch a hair on her head, asshole, and you'll answer to me!" he defiantly yelled after him as they departed. Jack now meant every word he said. If for some reason Janice Covington did not take care of this man, he sure as hell would.  
 

A hundred yards away three pairs of eyes watched as Melinda and Brachmann emerged from the cave. Unlike Brachmann the three women had only just arrived and consequently were unaware that the guerrillas had already gone.

Understandably excited at finding her belle, Janice loudly whispered, "That's her! That's Mel!" Janice would have known that silhouette anywhere but here in the early morning light she found herself squinting to get a good look at the dim form at Melinda's elbow. One thing she did know was that it definitely was not Jack.

"Is that your Mister Klienman with her?" Eva asked.

"No," Zoe quickly interjected. "Not unless he shaved his head overnight."

Again Janice peered at the figures and for a fleeting moment felt envious of Zoe's sharp-eyed youthfulness. The light was still very weak and the landscape still abounded with deep dark shadows and Janice wondered just how the girl could make out such detail from this distance.

"Do you suppose he's in the cave?" Eva asked.

"Maybe," said Janice. For a fleeting moment the black notion that perhaps he was already dead raced through her mind but with grim determination she forced herself to put this aside and concentrate on Melinda and her rescue. Her efforts were not made any easier by an awareness, however vague in the innermost recesses of her consciousness, of the stark and even more disturbing realization that she would gladly accept the death of the bumbling if well meaning Jack if it meant that her beloved Melinda would live. She would never admit such a thing--certainly not to Melinda and perhaps not even to herself--but that did not make it any less true.

At the sight of Melinda Janice was ready to take action. She was just about to make her move when Zoe caught her by the arm. "We must be careful," she cautioned. "There may still be others we haven't seen.

"We can't just lie here and do nothing!" Janice hissed in protest.

"We need to know what we're up against," Zoe quietly counseled.

The kid's right, thought Janice. C'mon, Janice, she chided herself. Think! Her own normally shrewd sense of judgment was being clouded because of the emotional factor and she knew it.

Despite the situation Eva had to flash a faint smile of amusement which Zoe just happened to catch. "What?" the girl asked.

In Greek Eva said, "I never thought I would see the day when Zoe Lambros would be the voice of caution."

Zoe, who was just a few scant weeks short of twentieth birthday, returned Eva's smile and replied, "I guess this means I'm getting old, huh?"

Janice, still itching to do something, whispered an impatient, "What are you guys yakkin' about now?"

By now Eva was no longer finding herself uncomfortable because of Janice's bluster and so she said, "We were discussing Zoe's retirement plans."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," said Eva, shaking her head.

"I told Evy I was getting old," explained Zoe.

"Old? Hell," Janice scoffed, "you don't know what old is. Wait till you get to be my age. Then you'll see." Janice's eyes softened and she said, "You're like a young flower just now coming into full bloom."

"I don't think you're old," Zoe said quietly. It was the way the girl said it that struck Janice. She was so solemn and spoke with such obvious sincerity. Janice was very touched by it. There was passion in everything Zoe did and Janice could see how the much more refined Eva could be so taken with her. Again, the parallels with her own relationship with Melinda were remarkable!

Janice watched as the two distant figures, Melinda in the lead and the unknown Brachmann following close behind, set off down the path that led back to the cabin.

Again the archaeologist was about to move when again Zoe caught her by the arm. Pointing off to their left, the girl whispered, "Look."

Now Janice saw that it was a good thing she had heeded Zoe's advice for coming up the path from the opposite direction was another man. Even at this distance he seemed to her to be strangely familiar somehow...

Sensing a potentially disastrous situation developing, the gritty archaeologist immediately decided that the moment of truth had arrived. Melinda was here and, whatever the outcome, this might be her last--her only--chance to save her friend. The archaeologist pulled out her .45 and grimly pulled back the slide, cocking it.

"What are you doing?" Zoe hissed in alarm.

"I'm going in," Janice said firmly. "Wait here." With that the American got to her feet and, crouching low, began to pick her way down into the ravine.  
 

After leaving his boss, Pratikakis had wasted much of the morning in a fruitless search first for Kettering, then the American women. Arriving at the dig a scant twenty minutes after Brachmann had departed, he too had learned of the women's departure north from Phillip and his battered friend. Even more significant was Phillip's revelation during the course of questioning that before she left Covington had mentioned something about going to see a man named Kettering. This was his first inkling that the Covington woman and Kettering had decided to work in unison and so Pratikakis immediately set out after them.

Lord Hanley, it seemed, was nothing if not thorough. In engaging Brachmann to retrieve the tablet he had concluded that it would be prudent to have another man on the job open just in case the slippery German failed. Someone who knew the area and the people in it. In Pratikakis he had found such a man. Although ostensibly his visit to Janice and Melinda had been in the course of a ordinary murder investigation his real purpose had been an attempt to find out if the women knew anything about the tablet Frailing was known to have found.

Unknown to Hanley the policeman had already tripped up once. Pratikakis was the one who had waylaid Zeissler on that night and thus had been the source of both Brachmann's displeasure and Zeissler's untimely demise. Unfortunately that pariticular stone had turned out to be a mere bureaucratic record--a false lead. Up until his discovery of Janice and Kettering's apparent association his interest in Janice had been nothing more than a desperate grasping of straws. After that it became something else again.  
 

Once in Larissa Pratikakis had as a matter of course checked in at the police station and it was there he had learned both of Kettering's death and the green-eyed American firebrand who had brought him in. Told that she had continued on north, Pratikakis correctly guessed that the better, albeit more roundabout road was the one to take.

And so it was that the policeman had come upon the smashed convoy barely one half hour after Janice and her friends. It was in this way that he knew Vassilis was back and once again operating in the area. Pratikakis had not expected him back so soon but he was ready nevertheless. After all, it was what the party expected of him. Even before the war ended Pratikakis, the highly respected police inspector, had been recruited as a Communist spy.

In leaving the scene of the ambush he had passed Brachmann's bullet-riddled car and idly glanced in at the dead Hans still slumped over in the seat--unaware that directly beneath the German's bloody corpse was the very thing for which he was searching. Later, while removing the body from the car, one of the Greek soldiers found the blood stained stone lying underneath. Neither knowing nor caring about the tremendous significance of the ancient artifact, he carelessly tossed it into the road where it was later ground back to the dust from whence it came by a halftrack as the soldiers moved out. Thus it was that the knowledge of ancient resting place for the fabulous treasure of Harpalus, chief treasure of Alexander the Great, was lost forever.

As it was finding the Americans again had been sheer luck. The plan called for the rebels man to contact Pratikakis but since he was already in the area now he decided not to wait. He knew there were dozens of places where Vassilis and his men could hole up. However the inspector knew Vassilis almost as well as he did himself and like Zoe he figured the caves would be as likely a place as any to look for them. However, unlike Zoe and her friends he had two very distinct advantages in dealing with the Communist rebels. One was they knew him. The other was that their leader, the man known only as Vassilis, was his brother.

The reunion between the policeman and former cobbler could only have been described as strained but Pratikakis had nevertheless done his duty and passed on what he knew about the strength of government forces in the area. Hearing that his brother had left behind two Americans in one of the smaller caves, Pratikakis thought the chances good that they might be the very same ones he was after. As it turned out he was only half right.  
 

Like fingers forming some kind of giant fist, the four of them drew ever closer to each other. Unfortunately for Pratikakis he had not expected trouble and so was not prepared for the sight looming out of the darkness of the Pappas woman being forced to act as a shield for the gun wielding man behind her.

In Greek Brachmann warned, "That is far enough."

"Who are you?" asked Pratikakis.

The German brushed aside the challenge with a wave of his pistol. "Put you hands behind your head."

"Let the woman go," said Pratikakis in an even voice as he spread his hands wide apart.

"You don't exactly strike me as the knight in shining armor type," Brachmann scoffed.

Pratikakis was in a bind and he knew it. At the moment the other man was the one holding all the cards. How could he have made such a blunder? His only hope was that the man would make a mistake somewhere. Given the unhappy circumstances he thought that a bluff might only escalate matters and it was for that reason that he tried another, more conciliatory approach. "Unless I am mistaken we are both after the same thing," he said. "I would suspect we are even working for the same man."

Brachmann would have none of it. In disdain he said, "I have only my own interests at heart."

"We could split the money," Pratikakis offered up hopefully. "Fifty-fifty. Five thousand pounds apiece."

The fool! thought Brachmann. A faint smirk played across the German's lips. "You are hardly in a position to offer terms." Leveling the pistol at the unlucky policeman, he said, "Turn around."

"Don't be a fool!" Pratikakis cried. "I'm a police inspector. You can't just murder me and expect to get away with it!"

The smirk faded from Brachmann's lips as he said, "I spent three years on the Eastern Front. So you see I can murder anyone. Now...turn around."

In a desperate attempt to save his life Pratikakis bolted off down the path toward the cabin. Unfazed by the sudden flight of his intended victim, Brachmann pushed Melinda to the ground and calmly raised his pistol. There was nothing hard about killing a man, he thought. It was only a matter of properly applying the fundamentals of shooting.

Janice was working her way around a large boulder when the heard the sharp crack of a pistol shot and then a faint cry immediately afterward. Oh my God!! she thought fearfully.

That was it. All bets were now off! Janice rushed around the boulder and saw Pratikakis on his knees, just starting to fall forward. Before she could locate Melinda and the other man she heard the angry whine of a bullet as it zipped no more than a foot from her ear.  
 

Up on the crest Zoe could stand it no longer. Popping to her feet as she heard the second shot echo through the ravine, Zoe resolutely announced, "I'm going down there."

"Zoeeeeeeee," Eva pleaded. "What can you do? You're unarmed."

"I don't know but I've got to do something!" Zoe insisted.

"If you go down there all you'll succeed in doing is getting yourself killed." Eva said plaintively.

"Evy, I'll be careful, I promise. But I just can't sit here and wait." The echoes had died away and in the stillness of the early morning the two Greeks heard the sharp cry of human voice. For Zoe it was the clincher. Crouching down, she gently touched Eva on the shoulder. "I'll be all right," she softly assured her lover.

It was no use and Eva knew it. When Zoe's blood was up like this the young woman seemed impervious to reason. With a dejected sigh of resignation she said, "All right. While you do that I'll--I'll check the cave for the Kleinman fellow."

"Good girl," said Zoe as she patted Eva on the arm.

But Eva could not let her go without one last entreatment. "For the love of God, Zo, BE CAREFUL! If you go off and get yourself killed I'll never forgive you!"

Zoe smiled that impish smile that Eva knew so well and in a heartbeat the girl was down the side of the ridge and gone. Before moving out herself Eva closed her eyes and paused for just a moment to say a silent prayer for the safety of not only her precious Zoe, but the two Americans they were here to rescue and the tempestuous archaeologist who had amazingly become her friend.  
 

The unintelligible voice heard by the two Greeks belonged to Melinda. In response to Brachmann's demand that the interloper come out and show himself she had cried out, "Don't do it!" little realizing that she was addressing Janice.

By now Brachmann had once again firmly positioned himself behind the belle. Thinking this other person most probably an accomplice of the dead policeman, he called out in Greek, "If you don't want to end up like your comrade you'll get out of here now!"

Janice's Greek was very bad and so she missed most of the warning. Not that it would have mattered, of course. She had found her Melinda and she would be damned before she would let this bastard take her away again! "You let her go," said Janice, "and you can walk out of here in one piece."

Oh my God! thought Melinda. It's Jan! It took all of her self-restraint not to call out to her lover. If Brachmann were to find out now that she was not in fact Covington....well there was no telling what he might do.

Carefully keeping Melinda positioned between himself and the sound of the voice, Brachmann slowly began to back his way down the path. "Ohhh," he answered back, "you sound like an American."

Janice peered up over the rock which was serving as her cover. "That's right," she said in a low, throaty voice. "And I believe you have something that belongs to me."

Brachmann, very naturally assuming she was referring to the lost tablet, pleasantly replied, "Not yet. But I hope to soon enough."

Of course Janice had not been talking about the tablet but rather something infinitely more precious. Growing angrier by the second, she was hardly in a mood to elaborate. "You're not leaving here," Janice grimly told him. "Not with her anyway."

Brachmann was surprised and a little incensed by the woman's boldness. "So you know her, eh?" Putting his gun to Melinda's head, he warned, "You try to stop me and she dies."

Never had Janice wanted so badly to harm someone. Barely controlling her rage, she clenched her teeth and said, "If you so much as breathe on her you're a dead man." All the while she followed along as Brachmann continued to back his way down the path, taking care not to allow the German a clear shot at her.

"You obviously have not assessed the situation very well," Brachmann smugly replied. "It is I who am in control here."

"I'll give ya that," Janice conceded. Then she added, "As long as she stays alive."

"I could kill her right now and there is not a damn thing you can do about it," said Brachmann.

"You do and I'll shoot you and before you die I'll gut you like a hog," said Janice coldly. "You've got to ask yourself, fella, is this something worth dying for?"

Brachmann's answer was to defiantly circle his arm around Melinda's neck and roughly snap her head back as he fired off a shot in Janice's general direction. "You son of a bitch!" Janice growled lowly. "One way or another your ass is mine."

Suddenly there was a high pitched, piercing cry and out from the top of her field of vision the archaeologist was astounded to see a strange blur plummet down and pile right on top of Brachmann and Melinda. Immediately Janice recognized what was happening. Zoe!!!

The three people went down in a tangled heap of arms and legs. Being the most nimble and athletic of the three, Zoe was the first to regain her balance. Pouncing on his chest with her knees, she lashed out with her fist and caught the stunned Brachmann right between the eyes.

Owwwwww! thought the girl as she fretfully shook her throbbing hand. Damn that hurt!

In an instant Janice had bounded over a waist high rock and was tearing toward them. That crazy kid! she thought. That crazy, wonderfully brave kid! Janice had pinned much her hope on being able to pressure Brachmann into making some kind of mistake, to unnerve him somehow. In the span of a heartbeat the impetuous Zoe had changed all that.

After leaving Eva Zoe had followed the sound of the voices until she came upon a ledge overlooking the path. It was from here that she had made her leap. Seeing that Brachmann was apparently going to pass right under her, the girl had calmly bided her time, hoping that an opening would come. Brachmann's wild shot at Janice had given her such an opening. As it was Zoe's blow was well struck but hardly one strong enough to faze a man who had more than once killed a Russian with his bare hands. Growling a raging oath at his unlikely assailant, Brachmann hit her with a backhand so savage that he knocked the wisp of a girl completely off him.

Meanwhile, once Melinda was on the ground she began to roll in a desperate attempt to put as much distance as possible between herself and the German. Brachmann saw this and so he made a dive for her feet. He almost had her when like a fierce little wolverine Zoe was on him again, pummeling him with blows about his face. Furious at the frustrating tenacity of this little wench Brachmann again threw her off. This time he meant to finish her. Snatching up his pistol, he was almost on his target when Janice's big .45 roared out. The 230 grain slug caught Brachmann right below the armpit of his upraised arm, tearing through his right lung and into his heart. He was dead even before he went crashing down on top of Zoe like a big tree.

Still a little numb by the rapidity of these events, Melinda rolled over and sat up. In an instant Janice was kneeling at her side. The archaeologist gently slipped an arm around the belle. "Are you hurt?" She anxiously asked. When Melinda blankly looked at her Janice said, "Are you all right?"

This time Melinda nodded stiffly and said, "Yeah, I--I think so." For what now seemed like the first time in eons the belle looked up into those dazzling green eyes she knew so well and in that moment all the burdens, all the worries about somehow, some way, keeping Jack and her alive evaporated like so much steam from a teakettle. Janice--her Janice--was here now and everything was indeed going to be "okay."

She was safe at last.

With tears welling up in her icy blue eyes Melinda reached out with both arms and clung to Janice for all she was worth. "Ohh, Jan!" she cried. "I knew you'd find us!"

Janice closed her eyes and tenderly kissed Melinda behind the ear. It felt SO good to smell her hair, to hear her voice, to simply touch her once again. "It's all right, sweetheart," she softly cooed. "It's all right."

By now Zoe had managed to wriggle out from under her burden. Janice felt a warm hand on her shoulder and looked to see Zoe standing there beside the two of them. Gently pulling away from her lover, the archaeologist smiled at Melinda and said, "Mel, I'd like you to meet the person who just saved your life. Melinda Pappas, this is Zoe Lambros.

Zoe boldly stuck out her hand and said, "I am so very happy to meet you."

Melinda took the surprisingly smallish hand and with a heartfelt gratitude said, "Thank you, Zoe. I'm indebted to yuh."

Slightly embarrassed by the lovely American's earnestness, Zoe was momentarily at a loss for words. Fortunately the situation was at that very moment lightened considerably when they heard a nasal voice yell out. "Whoa!"

The three women looked up the path toward the caves and there they saw what resembled a misshapen log tumbling down the little hill. Except that this "log" was a human one. It was, of course, Jack.

Janice shook her head in mock exasperation and muttered, "My God." In truth though she was almost as happy to see him as she had been with Melinda.

Trotting purposefully down the hill after him came Eva. Halfway down the hill she stopped when she noticed the three figures knotted together up ahead. In desperation very close to panic her anxious eyes searched out that one particular figure she was looking for. And there she was. Seeing that Zoe was all right Eva Haralambos closed her eyes and gratefully gave thanks to the gracious and merciful God who surely had watched over them all here on this terrible morning.

It had been an eighteen hours none of them would ever forget.

Epilogue
Mid-afternoon evening found the five of them safely back in Larissa. There Jack was finally able to satisfy his raging hunger while the four women went to reclaim Janice's truck. Though Melinda too expressed a desire to eat something, Janice just having come so close to losing her, was hardly about to let the belle out of her sight to soon. No, Mel's belly could wait.

Later on that evening Melinda was surprised when Janice accepted Eva's gracious offer to spend the night. Janice was notorious for her self-reliance and for her to do such a thing was so very out of character for her. As the evening progressed Melinda and the two Greeks--particularly Eva--found that they had quite a bit in common, particularly their love of the arts and Eva's interest in photography.

So, while Eva, Zoe and Melinda sat by the fire enthusiastically discussing Mozart and Adams, Manet and Rosenthal, Janice sat and politely listened to them gush about things she knew nothing about and cared for even less. On a pallet in the corner lay Jack snoring loud enough to wake up the dead. For a moment she felt she had more in common with him than any of the others, including Melinda. Melinda, Eva and to a lesser extent Zoe, were the purebreds of the world, noble and proud. Jack on the other hand was a mutt, just like she was. Lifting her glass of wine, she ever so subtly raised a toast to her sleeping friend. Here's to the mutts of the world, my friend, she thought. Without us there'd be nobody to clean up the shit.

For Janice and Melinda the long night was spent merely sleeping peacefully in each other's arms. As to how Zoe and Eva spent it, well, that is best left for another time.

The next morning shortly after dawn Janice awoke to the sound of a gentle rapping at her door. Dressed only in her panties, she wrapped one of the sheets around her and quietly opened the door. There she saw Jack with his duffel bag on his shoulder. "Hey, Covington," he whispered, "can ya loan me twenty clams?"

Janice blinked hard once to clear the sleep away. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I've been down at the station," he said. "There'll be a train here in an hour bound for Athens. I wanna be on it."

"But--why?" Janice asked. "We're going home too. You can just go with us."

Jacks features softened and he nervously licked his lips. "Ahh no," he said. "You and Mel there have been through a lot. I kinda figured you'd ahh, you know....."

"Want to be alone?"

"Uhh, yeah. You don't need me tagging along."

With a smile of unusual warmth Janice said, "Jack, you are always welcome with us."

"I know, I know," her friend said. "But, you know, all the same...."

"But what about Mel?" Janice whispered in protest. "You can just go off and leave her and not say good-bye."

Jack's eyes grew sad. "You'll tell her for me, woncha? I really should go."

"Okay, Jack," Janice said softly. "Have it your way." She tiptoed over to her trousers and pulled out a couple of notes. "Here's forty pounds," she said. "That ought to tide you over nicely."

"Thanks, Covington," said Jack, stuffing the money into his shirt pocket. "Well uhh, see ya when ya get back."

"You're goin' to China with us, right?" asked Janice.

"Oh sure. Yeah. Wouldn't miss it." Jack stuck out his hand and said, "See ya, kid."

There in the doorway the two of them shook hands. As Jack turned to leave Janice caught him by the arm. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to thank you for taking care of Mel. I won't forget it."

With a snort Jack replied, "You kidding? If it hadn't been for her quick thinking we'd both be dead now." He glanced over Janice's shoulder to the pair of long, graceful legs protruding out from the sheets. "You should have seen her, Covington," he said admiringly. She was really something."

Janice turned to look as well and, holding back her emotions, quietly answered, "I know."

**********

Three hours later Eva stood at the door as Janice and Melinda passed by on their way out to the truck. All through breakfast Zoe had been strangely absent and now that it was time to go Janice found it troubling that the girl was not there to see them off.

"If you two ever get to Australia you simply must come to Sydney and stay with us," said Eva, as she shook Melinda's hand.

"I'd love that," said Melinda.

"I was down there before the war," said Janice, still a little distracted by Zoe's absence. "Just don't expect me to eat any of that damn vegemite."

"Ugh!" Eva groaned.

Melinda got in the truck and Janice had almost given up hope of seeing Zoe again when suddenly the girl dashed out the door of the house. In her hand was what looked to be a rolled up piece of heavy paper.

"Here," said Zoe, handing the paper to Janice. "I want you to have this."

When Janice unrolled it what she found astounded her for there on the paper was the most beautiful sketch she had ever seen!

Leaning over to see for herself, Melinda softly cried, "Oh my! It's wonderful!"

"It sure is," marveled Janice.

It was a drawing of Melinda and herself, seen from the shoulders up. In the foreground there was Janice, sans hat, her long flowing hair being gently lifted by a soft breeze. Her face was slightly turned to her right and she seemed to be in a reflective mood as her penetrating eyes bravely looked off into the distance. For her part Melinda was amazed by how well the girl had captured the intensity of her lover's eyes. It gave Melinda the impression that the girl understood Janice as few did. Towering over Janice's right shoulder was Melinda. Zoe had drawn her without the glasses. With a strong left hand on Janice's right shoulder, the belle too seemed to be pondering the same far away sight. Even on simple paper one could feel the bond between these two images.

Janice thought it captured the two of them better than any photograph ever could. She understood perfectly the symbolism of the positioning of the two women and the significance of the hand on her shoulder. It was in every sense of the word a guiding hand. Genuinely moved, Janice shook her head once in amazement. There was no doubt about, the girl had a rare talent and for once Janice was a loss for words--almost. "Jeez, kid," she said gently, "this is terrific. You should be doing this for a living."

Happy that Janice seemed pleased with her offering and yet somewhat sheepish at the praise of her new friends, Zoe replied, "Well I hope to someday." With an impish grin she then added, "And stop calling me kid."

Janice returned the smile with one of her own and said, "You wanna know something? I never thought you were a kid."

Zoe moved in to hug her newfound friend and in her ear whispered, "I am going to miss you, Janice Covington."

"I'm going to miss you too," said Janice. She pulled away and said, "Take care of yourself. You've got a bright future ahead if apply yourself."

"She's going to," Eva assured her. "When we get back she's going to go to art school."

"Good for you," said Janice, playfully jabbing Zoe's arm. The archaeologist looked up at the towering Eva and said, "Well, I never was much of one for good-byes so....good-bye, and thanks for everything you've done for me--for us."

"Good-bye," said Eva. "And may God go with you on your journey."

As Janice got in the truck Eva slipped an arm around Zoe. Janice started the truck and drove away and together the two of them waved back to Melinda as the belle waved one last time through the back window. Down at the end of the street Janice turned left and they were gone.

After they were gone Zoe stood there for a moment staring down the road. Never in all her life had she seen such a dynamic person as Janice. It heartened her to know that in this world a woman really could knock down any barriers that got in her way.

"C'mon, Zo," said Eva, playfully pulling on her arm. "If you promise to be good I'll let you tinker with my rear end."

With a look that was positively salacious Zoe replied, "Lady, you have got yourself a deal!"

**********

Out of town at last, Janice shifted the truck into high gear. "Mel?"

"Hmmm?"

"I've been thinking. Why do you suppose, you know, I mean...why didn't Xena help when those goons showed up?"

"Ya know, I've been thinking about that," said Melinda.

"And?"

"Ahh think that in some way it has something to do with you," said Melinda.

Janice found that surprising. "With me?"

"Yeah, I think that since you weren't there it was like the circle somehow couldn't be completed. It was like part of me--of Xena--was missing."

"Really?"

Melinda snuggled in as close as the gear shift would allow and took Janice by the arm. "Yeah," she said. "Really."

In an odd sort of way Janice felt pleased by that.

On the seat between lay Frailing's tablet, one last memento of their truncated adventure. "So," said Melinda, picking up the tablet, "what do you want to do with this?"

In the last desperate hours Janice had decided that she had gotten her fill of treasure hunting and as a result now wanted nothing more than to simply go home. Besides, she was certain the other one was lost by now. "Unless you want it for a paperweight you can chuck the damn thing," said the archaeologist. Melinda was only too happy to comply. In one swift motion she snatched it up and tossed it out the window. There was, however, slightly more to it than that.

Unknown to Janice, while waiting for her to return with the truck part Melinda had whiled away part of the time by memorizing the contents of both stones. On the whole face of the earth Melinda Rose Pappas was the only person who knew the location of the legendary treasure of Harpalus. And as far as the belle was concerned that is exactly how it was going to stay because that was one secret she would take to her grave.

To have found the treasure would have meant a profound and irreversible change in both their lives and as far as Melinda was concerned that was totally unacceptable. She was perfectly happy with things the way they were.

Picking up the conversation again, Janice said, "So, what do you want to do first when we get back home?"

"I don't know," Melinda said with a shrug. "What do you want to do?"

"Ya know? It's weird," said Janice, "but I have this...sudden urge to see "Oklahoma."

"Why that sounds lovely," said Melinda. "And I have the perfect dress in mind for you."

Janice wisely let that pass and for a while they drove in silence. Finally Melinda spoke. "Jan, where did you get the bottle?"

"What bottle?"

"You know very well what bottle. Thought I'd forgotten about that, hadn't ya?"

With a big mischievous grin Janice never missed a beat as she said, "It's a long story. Remind me to tell it to you sometime."

"Ooooooh, you!" Melinda launched into her assault by furiously tickling Janice's ribs with her strong fingers. Janice shrieked with laughter and yelped, "Jeez, Mel, you're going to get us killed!"

"Well then pull over, crazy!" Melinda tittered.

Janice veered the truck off into a grove of trees at the of the road and shut off the engine. Within a moment the two women were down in the seat, locked in playful combat. In a simple test of strength Janice was no match for Melinda and as a result, soon found herself flat on her back--pinned at the shoulders by her puissant lover.

Leaning over the smaller woman, Melinda triumphantly declared, "Now, missy, for once you're going to do what I say!" With that she leaned down further still and passionately kissed the supine woman.

After their lips parted Janice smiled and breezily said, "Ya know, I can live with that."

And, God willing, she thought, hoped to for a very long time.

The End

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