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Doom to the eyes of the unworthy,
Life to the touch of the one that can give
The Kernel can give what Nature denies
But Power is not something you can extort.
"Pretty poem. I take it we should learn it by heart just in case, right, Syd?" Nigel sighed after completing the translation of all the passage. The poem was located at its end, with no relevance to the rest of the text. Sydney looked at him.
"Don't tell me you are not impressed, Nigel! The Kernel that the worshippers were supposed to use to pour life into statues of the goddess Demeter. It is supposed to have a huge amout of energy stored!: she said incredulously.
"There are a million uses possible for such a thing, and not all of them benevolent." the greek museum curator added, glancing at the door fearfully. Sydney's brow furroed at the man's reaction and she didn't quite hear Nigel's reply.
"You know Syd, I am quite impressed with the Kernel, I've always been, what with all the mystery, nobody has seen it or nothing more than faint rumours existing for it, but what does not impress me is the way there. That is usually the hard part and..." he paused. "...you are not listening to a single word I say, are you?"
"What do you mean, Kostas?" Sydney asked the man. He fidgeted and did not meet her eyes. Nigel pulled off his glasses, holding the base of his nose. He was not the least bit surprised, and the Balkans had never been a place where people peacefully resolved their differences. It usually involved guns and severe violence. Things that Nigel was inherently allergic to.
The greek curator straightened up, taking a decision.
"Unfortunately, Dr Fox you are not the first one to know of this parchment, or the fact that the Kernel is not a myth. It was not my choice, or as a matter of fact anyone's here in Athens or Euleusina, where it was unearthed.
"Okay, who is it?" Sydney asked, and Nigel meekly listened as he folded the translation paper and put it in his backpocket instead of the backpack. He did it consciously, feeling that an extra precaution wouldn't hurt. He rarely had feelings like that, but when he did, he never disobeyed. He resented to call it gut feeling. It sounded like a synonym to woman's intuition.
"It is a German scholar that has been doing a sabbatical here. He overheard my assistant's reports and pressed me hard with a crazy sum of money to give him everything I had. But I do not sell out greek curlture or heritage, at least not on my own accord, so I refused, and he departed, but threatened I'd hear from him again. My office was trashed the yesterday. Then I thought of you and your reputation of being honourable, and I called you.
"This is not your office?"
"Oh no. This is my cousin's office, who works in modern greek history projects. But he held the parchment for me after I had that first meeting with the german."
"What is the guy's name?" Nigel asked, knowing he'd probably get the equivalent for 'Smith'.
"He calls himself Hans Luben, and is supposed to be an ancient studies professor in some obscure college or university somewhere in Germany."
"We'll keep you informed then, Kostas. But you have to promice me that if I recover the relic and leave it to you, you arrange for a transfer exhibition at my university asap." Sydney said and smiled. The curator smiled as well and nodded.
"On my honour, Sydney." he said and unlocked the door.
Only to be thrown back by a strong hook to the jaw that sent the man sprawling on the floor. Nigel gasped and sat up from his chair reflexively, and grabbed his backpack. Predictably, Sydney rushed into battle with the attacker, a towering well built man with a ski mask. The man was nimble and well trained in some kind of martial art, and although Sydney didn't let him advance into the room, she couldn't overpower him as quickly as she did regular muggers.
"Security! Help!" Nigel shouted as he grabbed the stunned curator from the armpits and pulled him away from where his boss and the ski mask were fighting. The moment the words had been spoken, it seemed that new energy gave the man the leverage to trip Sydney, thus allowing him passage towards Nigel's backpack and the folder in which the original parchment was.
"No!" Nigel said and tried to get in his way. His efforts were rewarded by a rough shove against a bookcase that sent a shower of books over his head. By the time he stopped seeing stars, the man was gone, and Sydney was pulling him upwards while the greek curator was aided by a couple of security people.
"Nigel, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Sydney. Really, it was just a shove." Nigel got up grudgingly and dusted himself off from imaginary dust. If he had been half as competent in close combat as Sydney, he woud probably have stalled the man enough to have him caught by the security. He glanced over at the curator.
"Are you okay, dr. Panagelou?" he prounounced the name awkwardly. The man was paper white and breathing hard, but otherwise seemed to be fine. He looked up, holding an ice pack to his jaw and nodded.
"Did he take anything?"
"My backpack and the original parchment, I'm afraid." Nigel sighed and he heard Sydney kick something behind him.
"Oh my God. I didn't expect they would be so sharp."
"Relic hunters usually are, Kostas..." Sydney muttered, fishing her jacket from the mess on the floor. Nigel knew that voice and body language. She was already moving on to the next stage of solving the problem, and she was pissed. Ironically, he felt safe with Sydney pissed. It usually meant that next time she met up with whoever -had- pissed her off, she'd kick the daylights out of him.
"Goodness, Kostas. Whatever happened here?" a tall man asked, just entering the room, and then proceeded to speak in rapid greek. He was brown haired and nimble and looked like a younger and thinner version of the greek curator. The curator replied in the same language, then tended a hand towards Sydney.
"Let me introduce my cousin, Giannis, to whom this office belongs. Giannis, this is Sydney Fox and her assitant Nigel...eh..."
"Bailey." Nigel provided his surname dryly. The man nodded to both of them and approached Sydney with more than camaraderie or professional concern. He shook her hand with both of his and flashed her a wide smile.
"I am very pleased to meet such a lovely...scholar." he said in a slightly drawling, accented voice. "I am sorry you had to witness such events in our museum. I assure you this is quite out of the normal." , he added still holding Sydney's hand. She smiled guardedly and trying to detach her hand, replied,
"Don't think about it, mr.--"
"Dr. Dr. Teliou." he offered.
Sydney finally managed to pull her hand from his grip.
"Dr. Teliou, as I was saying, don't worry about it. It is unusual for you but quite usual for us."
The curator said something in Greek, and the younger man's eyebrows shot up.
"You are aiding my cousin with the Kernel. Good luck to you. If there is anything I can do to help you, please do not hesitate to ask. As a matter of fact-" he said before Sydney could refuse, "-I got just the man to help you, as I fear you'll be going into some of the tricky parts of our otherwise lovely mountains and general areas in Euleusina.
Nigel knew that trouble had only just started, and it would be worse than Claudia on a bad hair day.
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There you go. To those requesting action-- ask and ye shall receive, they say.