Heidmann always inadvertently plunged himself into the company of unsavory people with bad intentions. Perhaps it was his constant desperation to survive in his world, or maybe he was just a bad judge of character. Yet he found that most of the time he was alone against the world, alone against those who managed to find their way across those carefully burned bridges he could never flee. Now he felt relatively safe for the first time in his long career as a collector.
Though everything was vague in the background of the intense football game, Purdue heard the front door opened by the butler. He was curious about the caller and excused himself from the merriment to investigate. Costa, Don, and James carried on drinking and arguing about everything from sports to the paranormal until the new guest accompanied Purdue into the billiards room.
Purdue raised his voice above the voices and the television broadcast to announce the last member of the expedition.
“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce Dr. Nina Gould, last member of our party. She is an invaluable member of this group, an expert on German history, specifically Nazi Germany and World War II.”
“Jesus!” Don growled unwittingly. Costa slapped him on the back to remind him of his crudeness, which he instantly took note of and made an apologetic gesture.
All three men looked frozen when they laid eyes on the beautiful historian. As Purdue introduced them one by one, they managed basic speech and some form of propriety, but it was evident that the petite 40- year-old with the big, brown eyes had them all weak at the knees. In her one arm, she held a gigantic ginger cat, and when Purdue was done, she lifted the cat slightly and smiled, “And this is Bruichladdich. But he will be staying here at Purdue’s house while we are gone.”
She looked at Purdue and said softly, “I could not get a cat sitter. You know how my neighbors hate me.”
Purdue just chuckled, “It’s perfectly alright, Nina. I don’t care if you brought the Ark with you, as long as you are here.” He kissed her to seal his welcoming but made sure it did not feel romantic for the sake of their colleagues and also because she made it clear that she still resented him.
Nina could not take her eyes off Costa. It was a strange familiarity for a stranger she had not felt since she met Sam. In fact, the Greek’s dark long hair and eyes almost matched Sam’s to a T. Had she not been so smitten by the elegant professor’s charms, his appearance may have dumped her into another bucket of Sam-yearning. But she was feeling great. A renewed excitement for the expedition now fueled Nina’s demeanor.
Chapter 13
At the British Museum, the place was bustled with cleaning crews and officials. Professor Helen Barry and her assistant Claire were watching the commotion from a distance while taking a quick cup of morning tea.
“The place almost looks as good as new,” Claire remarked. Realizing how ironic the statement was for a museum, she added, “For a museum, the place looks as good as new?” Claire cringed, of the mind that it still did not sound right. Helen’s stare turned into laughter at Claire’s silly confusion. “I get it, Claire. I agree too,” she said. After some pause, Helen looked a bit more disappointed. “Looks like we’ll be on our feet again soon. Just a pity about the Greek Art exhibit. It was our best in a long time.”
“I know, Professor. It sucks that of all our displays, the best and most lucrative was the one we had to break up and remove,” Claire replied, looking thoroughly bummed about it. She quite enjoyed that particular exhibit, because of her interest in mythology and ancient gods. Naturally she never had a shortage of the subject in her line of work, but it was the first display that gave her the creeps — but in a good way. Never before had she felt so present in the ancient world as when she stood alongside those pieces. It was as if their authenticity reached way beyond just their provenances and carried a certain aura of their era to anyone who cared to bask in it.
Claire was one of those people who allowed the pieces to infiltrate her personal space, her mind, and her admiration. What a feeling they lent her as if their essence reached out and caressed her skin until it grew taut and forced her hair to stand on end. If ever there was an exhibit Claire could call ‘living history’, The Mythos Paradigm was it.
“Mrs. Fidikos called, by the way,” she told Helen. “Her people will be here to crate and load her pieces later today.”
Helen looked distraught. “God, she must hate me. She did not even say goodbye after she got the news of the destruction, you know?” Helen sighed and put her empty mug down on the trolley. “She will probably never speak to me again.”
“Oh rubbish,” Claire consoled her boss. “Besides, how is it your fault that God broke London? You had no way of saving the contents of the museum, Professor. If she thinks that, then she is daft. What, did she expect you to buckle in the artifacts in their baby seats?”
Helen glared at her assistant for a long while until Claire started feeling she had overstepped her boundaries.
“My God, Claire, you have a way of making me feel better…” Helen shook her head as she ran her hand down the girl’s upper arm, “… by the absurd shit you can utter!”
They two ladies shared a good laugh under the newly connected ceiling lights that illuminated the hallways beautifully.
“Good to hear some laughter in this awful situation,” a female voice halted their merry release. They turned to find the big black-clad queen standing there.
“S-Soula,” Helen stuttered, completely taken aback by the sight of the last person she had expected to see here. “I thought your people will be coming alone.”
“What?” Soula Fidikos scoffed. “Have you ever seen the speed at which those bastards work when they are not under a whip? I always accompany my deliveries and collections, dear. I am so glad to see you two are alright!”
Dumbstruck in their amazement, Claire and Helen found themselves in Soula’s embrace. Helen felt much better now that she knew there were no hard feelings between her and the Greek millionaires.
“I’m so sorry about some of your items, Soula,” Helen apologized.
“Are you serious? I had no idea you were to blame for that earthquake, Helen,” Soula exclaimed with her big black eyes stretch frighteningly wild.
Helen looked at her assistant, silently acknowledging the exact sentiment she had just voiced a few moments before. Claire smiled and winked.
“I know, but still. I feel responsible because we invited you to exhibit here and all that,” Helen explained.
Soula waved her hands dismissively. “Och, just stop,” she ordered cordially. “It is not your fault. I am insured after all, and the artifacts that suffered damage were not exactly the best pieces. They are replaceable, so no more worry, okay?”
“Alright,” Helen sighed in relief.
“Now, tell me, what are you doing tonight?” Soula asked, as Claire took the hint and decided to leave their company.
“Excuse me, ladies. I have to meet the people from the Evening Post,” Claire said, looking at her watch and marched off.
“I was going to go to bed early, actually,” Helen answered. “Why?”
“Well, now you are not,” the loud Greek insisted. “I leave tomorrow morning on my private jet, and you have the day off tomorrow, no?”
“I do, yes. How did you know?” Helen asked.
Soula just smiled. “I have sources,” she smiled, refusing to reveal her source — Claire — to the flabbergasted professor. “Anyway, I was hoping my husband and I could take you to dinner tonight. I will not be back in England until next time I have an excuse to come, so it would be nice, don’t you think?”