Winston opened his eyes and rolled onto his back. A grimace crossed his face from the pain in his knees, elbows, and head. Deep breaths calmed his nerves. A faint light came around the corner from the aquarium located down the hallway. Nearby was the bottom step of the stairwell. He maneuvered to a sitting positioned and recalled a small room next to the aquarium.

"If Lady Croft's habits are consistent, I should find a sharp edge implement in there."

With hands and legs tied, he struggled to a standing position and hopped through the hallway. Upon reaching the room, the flickering light crossed over a far table, where a knife laid.

Winston murmured, "Oh, bless your violent little heart, Lady Croft."

Navigating around the couch, he grabbed the knife and cut the bindings. The duct tape was clumped into a ball and tossed into a wastebasket. He sat on the couch and examined the knife.

"So this is where my paring knife was all the time. When I see Lady Croft, I shall give her a gentle scolding."

At the top of the stairs he found the door locked and barricaded. He frowned, went down the steps, and pulled out a set of keys. A door to a storage area was unlocked and a light switch flicked on. In the far corner was the electrical box that housed the new security system. The box was opened and the wire connections within were examined.

Winston searched the basement floor and found the longest piece of discarded wire. He murmured, "Bless the sloppy electrician who installed the security system."

The paring knife exposed the copper ends of the wire. With patience, a number of connections were touched until the right combination was hit. A siren warbled.

Winston closed the electrical box and stuffed the wire and knife into his vest pocket. The lights were turned off and the storage door locked. At the top of the stairwell he sat and waited for the arriving sound of police cars.

* * *

The van traveled west out of London. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the driver glanced to the left. The passenger massaged the items they had acquired from the secured room. A couple of them glowed in his hands.

"How about something to eat, Al?" Jimmy asked and licked his lips.

"I am not hungry," Al responded, his hypnotic gaze focused on the objects.

"Do you mind if I stop for a bite?"

Al grinned and did not reply. His hand passed over an artifact, and then, carefully, placed it in the leather satchel. He looked at the passing scenery and spoke, "After I drain the powers within these items, you can do whatever you wish with them. They would be of no use to me thereafter."

"Like return them to Bartoli for the reward? I would love to see the Don's face when he finds out they are nothing more than ornate artifacts," Jimmy snickered.

"So what is the next step?"

Al gazed at the sky. "The transference of power must be done under a full moon, which will occur in a few days." He closed his eyes. "Head for Wiltshire. We will rest there."

* * *

The morning light diffused through the mist. The fog receded and appeared to be lifting. A candle on the table had burned down and left a centimeter of wax.

Junior stretched and yawned. He walked past the candle, stretched again, and climbed the ladder to the upper level. His eyes searched into the pastel gray of fog, hoping to find a hint of the horizon. His ears perked up and he leaned towards starboard.

A distant chugging sound traveled across the water surface.

Junior leapt down to the main deck, stopped, and listened.

The chugging sound was getting closer.

He dashed down the cabin hallway and knocked on Gavin's door. "Boss, I hear the engines of a fishing boat!"

Thumps and bumps came from behind the door, and then sprung open. Gavin tied the drawstring on the sweatpants, skipped up to the open deck, and listened.

The sounds of a chugging engine could be pinpointed within the fog.

Junior's eyes grew large. "Boss! It's passing us by! The sound started on starboard and now it's almost on port side!"

Gavin raced between the cabinets and containers, flinging lids off and throwing doors open, until a portable air horn was found. With a sigh of relief, he stepped out into the deck, and took a deep breath. The air horn trigger was squeezed and delivered three short blasts and three long blasts, and then the sequence was repeated.

The loud blasts woke Lara, Tim, and Captain. They staggered out of their rooms and rushed to the deck. Lisa stumbled from the room after feeling the rumble of footsteps. Gavin continued squeezing the trigger, while Junior explained to the others.

A bell clanged and the chugging engine came closer to port side.

Gavin commanded, "Start yelling, everybody!"

They screamed, shouted, and whistled.

The bell rang and the dark form of a fishing trawler appeared. The aged boat, smaller than The Cotillion, chugged closer.

A young boy stood beside an old man who piloted the trawler. The boy waved.

Junior and Captain exclaimed, "It's Yohan!"

"Who is it?" Gavin asked.

Captain answered, "A generous old man Junior and I met two years ago in Crete, when we were still fishermen. We spent four months together." He yelled over the side, "Yohan! Yohan!"

The old man spoke in Greek, "[Adrian! Demetri! It is good to see you again, my friends! What is wrong? Are you in trouble?]"

"[Yes! The ship has lost power and we need supplies!]," Captain replied in Greek.

"[What are you doing out here?]," Yohan questioned.

"[We are working with this team of divers who are exploring sunken boats.]"

The boy tossed a line. Junior caught it and tied the boats together.

The old man bounded onto the deck, shook Captain and Junior on the shoulder, then hugged and kissed them on the cheek. The mane of white hair was the length of his beard and moustache. His skin was wrinkled and leathered. He wore pants and a short sleeve shirt that were stained with essence of fish. The eyes glistened and the smile contagious. He studied each team member and asked, "[Have you eaten?]"

"[No. We have just awaken.]" Lara responded in Greek.

Yohan cheered, "[Good! I have food! I will cook for you!]"

Confused, Gavin looked at Lara. "Did he say he was going to cook for us? Why?"

Lara shrugged.

Tim confessed, "I don't understand Greek."

Yohan grinned, "You speak English? I speak English, too! Yes, yes! I cook for you! Go sit! I cook for you!" He spoke to the young boy, "[Shemuel, get some fish from our catch, and some bread and oil.]"

While the boy cut and gutted a number of fish, the old man made his way to the stove in The Cotillion's kitchen. On a blackened pan he brought to use, the fish were grilled.

Lisa handed the old man a written note. 'Can I help?'

Yohan said, "I no read English good. What is it?"

Lara explained in Greek, "[She is deaf, but she wants to help you. Is there anything she can do?]"

Yohan faced Lara. "[Your sister is deaf?]"

Lara half-smiled, "[Yes, she is deaf, but she is not my sister. We just look alike.]"

Yohan nodded, "[I see. Long ago I had a son who looked like me.]" His eyes turned sad for a moment and a small brief smile crossed his lips. He perked up and commanded, "Go and sit! And speak English, please!"

The group gathered around the table and plates of fish and bread were handed. Everyone commented the food looked delicious.

Tim scooped up a forkful of fish and opened his mouth.

"Wait!" the young boy said. "We must say thanks."

"Why?" Tim looked at Shemuel as if the young boy had asked to drown his plate with ketchup. He scanned the others to see if they had the same impression.

Lara and Gavin were puzzled, but Junior and Captain bent their heads forward and folded their hands. Lisa followed the Konas brothers' example.

Yohan raised a hand towards the young boy. "Yes, say thanks, Shemuel."

Gavin bowed his head. Tim dropped his fork and glanced about. Lara closed her eyes.

Shemuel lifted his palms up. "Father, we worship You and give thanks for the food provided for us. Thank you for the friends at this table, and I pray they will be able to overcome their problems and continue with their work. These things we ask in the name of the Lord Jesus. Amen."

They began to eat.

After a few seconds of quiet chewing, Lara spoke, "Shemuel, you speak English very well. Where did you learn it?"

"I learned it in school," he beamed. "I know how to read and write, and I know how to add and subtract."

Yohan added, "I take him to school. Shemuel is my son."

A wry smirk appeared on Gavin's and Tim's lips in reaction to the statement.

Lara eyed them for a moment.

The lights flickered on and power returned to the boat.

"Hey, we are back to full power!" Gavin pointed to Junior. "Check the control panel and instruments to see if they are operating!"

Junior nodded and leapt up the steps. The others relaxed, sighed in relief, and waited. Junior returned down the steps and gave a 'thumbs up' sign. Everyone clapped and smiled.

Yohan sat back. His face displayed a stern look.

Captain noticed the change of expression and asked in Greek, "[You look troubled. What has made you upset?]"

"[One among you has seen a lake of fire, and is now having visions.]" His eyes aimed at Lara.

Tim sensed the change in mood and asked, "What is going on?"

Gavin spoke, "The old man said one of us has had dreams." He looked at Lara.

"Did you dream again last night?"

Lara raised her head and saw their eyes focused on her. Uncomfortable, she barked, "Is everyone interested in my dreams? I didn't know they were a form of entertainment." Disturbed at their persistent staring, she smacked the fork on the table and railed, "For those who are interested in knowing, I did not advance any further to the crystal castle. It ended where I was in the dark and red-eyed creatures appeared in the bushes. I was frozen with fear. Then a knight on horseback arrived with a blazing torch in his hand. The creatures scurried away while the knight handed the torch to me. He turned and disappeared into the forest. When I looked closer at the torch, I found it to be a flaming sword... And that is the end of last night's dream." She huffed and held back her anger.

"Lara, don't be upset," Gavin continued, "but he said you saw a lake of fire. That is what I believe he said."

Lara sat up, stared at Yohan, and demanded, "Please explain what you mean."

"What's going on?" Tim piped in a louder voice.

Yohan folded his hands. "You travel... many places... see... many things... and you see... great wall... and lake of fire in east. Now you dream... two dreams."

Shocked, Lara recalled her journey to the Far East to the Great Wall of China for the Dagger of Xian. The remembrance of the floating emerald islands, the pool of fire, and the confrontation with a fiery dragon, created a chill down her spine. This was an adventure she had wanted to keep as a secret. "How do you know all this? Who told you?"

"God's spirit," he replied. "Now there are troubles in your house... and we must go there." His folded hands were brought to his mouth.

Lara stood and examined the others to find a twitch of guilt. "What is going on here? How does he know all this?"

Shemuel's soft voice responded, "Papa is very religious. God speaks to him."

Lara eyed the young boy, tilted her head, and furrowed her brow in response to his innocent reply. She motioned to Junior. "Does the radio room have power? I want to check on something."

Junior climbed the ladder.

"Lara, I don't know what you're thinking, but, believe me, the dreams you told me were held in the strictest of confidence. I did not betray that. Plus, this is the first time I met the old man," Gavin protested.

Lara glanced at Tim. "Gavin, there is more than one person who knew what I dreamt. I will return and give my final estimation on all this." She climbed the ladder.

Gavin sighed and turned around. "What did she mean by that statement?"

"Boss, in the few months Yohan and I worked together, I found him to be a kind and generous old man. When Junior and I traveled with him, he had many stories to entertain us. Someday he should write a book of his stories instead of fish. All I know is this- he is a friend of ours. But this mystical stuff is the first time he has done anything like it in front of me." A puzzled expression appeared on Captain's face.

"This is the first time I met the guy," Tim defended.

A few minutes passed. Gavin paced in a circle. The others patiently waited.

Footsteps were heard and Lara climbed down. Her eyes were unfocused and she spoke in Gavin's direction. "Someone has broken into my home and stolen artifacts from a secured room."

Gavin glanced at the others and asked her, "Was anybody hurt?"

Lara fixed her eyes on Yohan and stepped closer. "How did you know a robbery occurred at my home?"

"Missy, please... My son... he will tell you... and you will see," he replied.

She argued, "Who? Shemuel? He is just a boy, barely thirteen! What can he tell me?"

Yohan answered in Greek, "[No, I mean another son who lives in a town near the coastline in Cyprus. His name is Aaron. He will explain everything. I will give you his address. But, please, tell him I wish to see him.]" He wrote the address on a slip of paper. "[When you see him, tell him Yohanan BenZebedi sent you with this message, 'It is time to come home.']" He looked into her eyes. "[I pray you will see your visions completely and fully understand them.]"

Lara frowned and held back a response.

"If you want to take some time to find the person, just let me know. In a couple of hours we will head for port to get supplies," Gavin informed.

Lara nodded and looked at their faces. "I am going to my cabin to change," she said without expression, and headed towards the hallway.

Before her cabin door was opened, Tim exclaimed, "What the hell is going on here?"

* * *

A knock on the room door at the inn by the constable was polite. "'Allo, Constable Warren 'ere. May we 'ave a word with you?"

No disturbance or reply came from behind the door.

The constable gestured to the gentleman at his elbow. "Alright, squire, open the door."

The short fat man jingled the set of keys and remarked, "You know, officer, when I saw the news of a home robbery by two men who got away in a pest control van, I became suspicious of these two gents."

The door opened and the constable entered. The room was unoccupied. Bedcovers were removed and towels lay in a pile on the bathroom floor.

"That's the van they came driving in," the fat man pointed out the window.

The constable lifted the phone receiver and dialed. "Cap'n, I'm 'ere with the innkeeper. A van with the correct markings is parked outside the inn, but the gents scurried off before I arrived... In the room they rented for the night... Sorry, Cap'n, next time I'll call for backup. It won't 'appen again... Right... Right, I'll be 'ere." He placed the receiver on the cradle and looked at the innkeeper. "They're sending someone to examine the van. Did these gents say anything else to you?"

The fat man shrugged, "They asked about Stonehenge and how far away it was. That's when I became curious 'cause they didn't look like regular tourists."

The constable frowned and scratched his chin. "Right, well, leave the room unoccupied until the lads come down and examine it."

They exited the room.

* * *

Dusk arrived when The Cotillion entered the port of Paphos in Cyprus. While the others trekked about to restore supplies, Lara and Shemuel journeyed for the outskirts of town. Near the written address, Lara viewed the silhouette of a Greek Orthodox Church in the last wisps of light. The dark pinnacles appeared like black velvet against a deep purple sky.

Lara approached the door to a cottage eighty meters away from the church and knocked.

Seconds passed before the door opened.

A woman greeted, "[Yes? What is it?]"

"Is Aaron here?" Lara asked.

The woman glared at Lara with a questionable eye, and then glanced back inside.

Lara opened her mouth to repeat the question in Greek when a tall dark-haired man, dressed in a priestly robe, stepped in sight. His appearance proclaimed an age level of fifty, and his dark eyes narrowed to view the visitors. "And who are you?" he questioned.

"Lara Croft."

He paused. "I do not know anyone by the name of Lara Croft. What is it you want?"

Lara sighed. "Do you know an old man by the name of Yohanan BenZebedi?"

The man stiffened and gripped the door handle. "Yes, I do." He hesitated, then spoke as if measuring his own words. "Do you have a message for me?"

Lara paused and observed how the man appeared to brace himself for the answer. Her voice was soft. "He said, 'It's time to come home.'"

Without a word, his head lowered. His eyes gazed at the woman who opened the door, and he nodded.

The woman began to weep.

The man stepped close to the woman, embraced her, and kissed her cheeks and forehead.

She whimpered and covered her face within his neck and shoulder.

He regained strength to speak and said, "Come in. You must be cold and hungry."

Apprehensive, Lara apologized, "I'm sorry. Have I arrived at the wrong time?"

His voice was low. "No. You are welcomed in my house. Please come in."

The woman wiped away tears and prepared a place for Lara and Shemuel at the dinner table. A meat broth with vegetables and bread were served. Wine was poured in a small glass and given to Lara.

"I am Aaron BenYohanan, and this is my wife, Mina. Please sit and eat," he motioned to the table and sat.

"I'm Lara Croft, and this is Shemuel, Yohan's son." Confused, she continued, "Excuse me for saying this, but you and Shemuel don't look anything alike if you are also Yohan's son."

Aaron kissed Shemuel's cheek and replied, "That is because we are adopted sons of Yohan. I was a child of the street, an orphan, until an old man took me in, taught me to fish, and brought me to school. It has been a long time since I've seen Papa. How is he doing?"

Shemuel answered, "Yes, he is doing well."

Lara piped in, "Excuse me for interrupting, but you said he was an old man when you were adopted. How old were you at that time?"

"I was eleven years old," he replied.

She probed, "I am sorry if my questioning sounds persistent, but you don't look more than fifty years of age. Yohan appeared to be in his mid-sixties. Shouldn't he have looked like a young man?"

Aaron responded, "Describe what he looks like now."

"He doesn't seem to be a frail person at all. A few inches taller than me, white hair and beard, brown eyes, dark wrinkled skin, and boundless energy. His clothes were stained with work and fish."

"Miss Croft, you have described the man who took me in when I was eleven. The last time I saw him was twenty years ago. He had adopted another son named Yonah. Papa had not changed even then."

Excited, Shemuel spoke, "There is another brother?"

Aaron nodded.

"How old is Yohan?" Lara inquired.

Aaron eyed Shemuel, shifted his jaw, and looked at the ceiling. "Miss Croft, to tell you the truth, I don't really know. If I speak aloud my suspicions, however, you may label me a lunatic."

Perplexed, Lara persisted, "Believe me when I tell you, I have traveled the world, and seen and heard a number of amazing things. Some were beyond belief. So if you can tell me your suspicions and explain the rational behind it, I will not be quick to pass judgment."

Aaron took a series of breaths, placed his chin on a thumb and forefinger, and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "If you had heard, my full name is Aaron BenYohanan." He pointed to Shemuel. "His would be Shemuel BenYohanan. Translated from Hebrew, our last names would be 'son of Yohanan'. Translating Shemuel's name to the English version, it would be 'Samuel, son of John'. Papa's full name, Yohanan BenZebedi, would be translated to 'John, son of Zebedi', the same name as St. John the Apostle, a disciple of Jesus of Nazareth. Now because he has the same name as one of the founding fathers of the Christian faith, does not imply or justify he is the Apostle John." He folded his hands. "But what has increased my interest is he has taught me more about God and Christ, in simpler terms, than all my years in theology classes. Again, it does not conclude he is the Apostle." His fingertips formed a temple. "However, as a boy, I remember the many stories told about his younger life. The descriptions of the Temple in Jerusalem were so vivid and real, that I believed he was actually there when it was still standing. During another time I recalled when his back was exposed. Visible scars ran across his skin, as if he was whipped. His response was a muted answer of doing a kind deed, but beaten for his belief." A closed hand leaned against his temple. "I remember the blessing he gave after telling him I was entering the priesthood. His last statement sounded like a directive from God. He said, 'When I send someone who tells you it is time to come home, you will leave the priesthood and everything behind. At that time the Lord will be calling you home.'"

Lara questioned, "I am sure you can correct me if I am wrong, but isn't there a church in Ephesus built over his tomb? If St. John's tomb is there, who, then, is buried in the tomb if not St. John?"

Aaron shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that. My research uncovered a traditional story where a very old St. John gathered his flock in Ephesus, told the young men to dig a hole, and then his clothes were laid inside the hole as if he intended to rest inside. The people believed they were witnessing his last day alive. He gave a final prayer and blessing on the people and, when he was finished, asked to be left alone for a short time. Upon their return to the site, all they found were his sandals, and the hole was overflowing with water."

"Religious mysticism," Lara mumbled. She paused and contemplated. "It doesn't make sense. Shouldn't he be a priest somewhere shepherding some flock, or a bishop within an organized Christian church system, instead of a plain fisherman? Shouldn't he be performing some remarkable miracles for the world to take notice, or be a proponent for peace, or rid the world of our most debilitating diseases, instead of isolating himself from everyone and working with his hands? Can you see why I doubt your rationalization? Yohan appears to be a kindly old gentleman with a bit of psychic ability." She covered her mouth and thought some more. "Excuse me for that outburst, but I can't see why I am involved in all this. Is there any other traditional story you can tell me that might explain your rational?"

A brief smile crossed Aaron's face. "From a typical point of view I would agree those would be logical choices. But from God's point of view, a common fisherman is where God wants him to be." He paused and shifted in his seat. "It does sound strange, though. One of the founding fathers of the Christian faith is present among us as an old man and working a menial job." A hand rubbed his chin. "You know, St. John was also known as one of the 'Sons of Thunder', the Theologian, the patron saint of writers and poets, the Evangelist, the beloved disciple of Christ, the disciple 'who would not know death', the Lion of God, a pillar of the church--."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Lara shouted and held up a hand. "What was that you just said?"

Startled, Aaron spoke slowly. "The beloved disciple of Christ... the disciple 'who would not know death'... the Lion of God--."

Lara felt queasy. "Why... why the 'Lion of God'?"

"It was a nickname given to him because of his fearlessness in preaching God's word. Even under the threat from the Emperor Domitian and Roman authorities, he had no fear in speaking God's word. There is another story from tradition where Domitian heard John prophesized the fall of the Roman Empire. Forced to come to Rome for trial, Domitian threatened John's life if he continued to prophesy the empire will fall. John replied he cannot because it was written in the Book of Daniel and foretold that another kingdom will replace it. Domitian became angry and had John thrown into a vat of oil, intending to boil him to death. John emerged from the ordeal alive and unscathed. Fearful, Domitian exiled John to the island of Patmos. Years later, Domitian died, and John left the island and returned to Ephesus."

Lara's face became pale and sweat beads formed on her head. "I think I'm going to be sick!" She pushed away from the table, gulped, and faced the floor.

"Quick! Where's your toilet! I have to vomit!"

"Down the hallway. First door on the left."

Lara rushed in and heaved the contents of her stomach into the bowl. Kneeling next to the porcelain edge, and nauseous from the smell, she heaved a couple more times.

Aaron entered with a wet towel and wiped her face. "You are feverish! Sit back and rest here next to the tub." The cool towel was placed on her forehead.

Shemuel entered with a glass of water.

"Thank you," Lara squeaked. She sloshed the water in her mouth, spat in the bowl, and then swallowed a couple of sips.

"I'll have Mina make an herbal tea to settle your stomach. Stay here and rest." Aaron stepped into the hallway.

Shemuel sat next to Lara and readjusted the towel on her forehead. His small hand checked the warmth of the skin under her chin.

Lara closed her eyes. "So what do you think of all this talk, Shemuel, regarding your father, Yohan?"

Shemuel replied, "If he is the Apostle John or Yohan the fisherman, it doesn't matter. He is still Papa, the old man who saved me from the streets."

Her eyelids allowed slits to open as her vision focused onto Shemuel. A hand was placed on his. "That's right. You were adopted, too."

He nodded.

"Could you tell me anything more about Yohan? Something else Aaron has not told me?"

"Nothing more than you have already seen," Shemuel answered.

Aaron returned, "Come. I will bring you to our bed where you can rest. She will bring the tea there."

Lara worked her way to a standing position, but the knees buckled, and she collapsed.

"Don't bother walking. I will carry you to the bed." Aaron scooped her into his arms and lifted.

Dizzy, her head rested on his shoulder.

Aaron carried her into the bedroom. "Shemuel, turn down the covers and remove her shoes after I place her on the bed."

With the shoes pulled off, Lara maneuvered to a sitting position as Mina entered with a hot cup of tea.

"Drink all of it. It will settle your stomach and nerves. It will also make you sleepy. After you drink it, lay down and rest." Aaron pushed a chair closer to the bed.

Lara whispered a protest, "This is your bed. Where will you sleep?"

"Don't worry about us," Aaron spoke like a caring parent. "It is important that you get better."

A knock came on the front door.

Mina answered, and a group of people stood beyond the opened door, a couple on the verge of tears.

"[Mina, we got your phone call! Is it true? Is Aaron leaving us?]" They entered and comforted Mina. A couple of men walked into the bedroom.

"[Why are you leaving, Aaron? We need you here. You are part of the community, our family, our lives,]" they pleaded.

Aaron replied, "[Please wait in the other room. I have a guest who is not feeling well.]"

They glared at Lara. "[Who is this woman? Is she the reason why you are leaving us? Is she taking you away?]" Their anger surfaced and on the brink of being poured on her.

Aaron stood and rebuked them, "[This is my guest who is welcomed in my house! She is not feeling well, but has delivered a message in which I have to make a choice!]" He eyed the men and spoke in a calmer tone. "[I choose to follow God. The decision is mine and has nothing to do with this woman. Please, wait in the other room and I will explain.]"

The men sheepishly bowed their heads, glanced at Lara, and exited the room.

Aaron turned, leaned against the bed, and touched Lara's neck under the chin. "You are still warm," he frowned. "Finish the tea. Is there someone we should call to let them know where you are?"

Lara nodded and handed a slip of paper containing a phone number.

"Shemuel will call for you and return with another cool towel for your forehead. As soon as you feel strong and ready, we will leave." Aaron left the room with Shemuel.

Lara drank the tea and settled into the comfort of the bed. The hallway echoed the angry voices of the men. Their arguments were heard as if in the same room with Lara. Aaron's low calm voice reduced the volume of their words to a barely audible level. The soft whimpers of the women were loud in comparison.

In Lara's mind, logic tried to build a bridge to what was happening to her. 'Yohan... St. John... Lion of God...adopted sons...troubles at home... Is all this for real? Why am I involved? And why me?' She drifted off to sleep and did not notice Shemuel's hands placing a towel on her head.

* * *

"Excuse me, gents! You cannot approach the monuments after dusk! Excuse me! Excuse me, gentlemen!" The guard shook his head. He stepped over the chained fence and trotted to the two men. Ten meters away from them, he shouted, "Excuse me, gents! You cannot be here after dusk! This site is closed after sunset!"

"Oh! We're sorry. We didn't know," the shorter of the two said. The taller one carried a leather satchel.

The guard pulled out his flashlight, shone the light on them, and repeated, "Gentlemen, this is a protected site. No one is allowed to approach the stones or be in this field at this hour. The appropriate place for viewing is behind the fence during daylight. What are you doing out here?"

"I'm sorry, officer. We are photographers for a men's magazine, and thought we could walk about to research the site in order to get the best shots here."

The guard examined them. "You need a special permit from the County Council if you want closer access to the stones. Otherwise you will have to stay behind the fence to take pictures."

Another guard approached behind the first guard. A third, with a flashlight, waited in the distance.

The taller of the two men focused his attention on the first guard. His iron stare threatened.

The guard returned the stare.

"We apologize," the shorter one piped in. "We didn't know one was necessary to get a closer look at Stonehenge. We'll be back with the proper permits." He tugged on the arm of the taller one, and they left.

The second guard walked towards the first and asked, "Who were they?"

"Photographers, they said," the first guard replied.

"Where's their equipment?"

"Exactly what I was thinking," responded the first guard. "Normally the loonies come around full moon to perform their rituals." He rubbed his chin. "I wonder what was in the satchel."

"Full moon won't be until a couple of days," the second informed. "Maybe they were photographers."

"I don't know. That tall one didn't look like a photographer to me."