Atticus led the way through the darkness back toward the house, muttering a string of curses under his breath the whole way. It seemed clear he was none too pleased about Milos' insistence on showing such mercy to the two strangers who had broken into their house in the middle of the night. Pulling out a large key ring fat with keys as they approached the back entrance, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking the lights on as he stepped inside. Nate and Sully entered just behind him while Milos brought up the rear.

The room they had just entered was in the shape of a semi circle, with windows all along the curved wall that looked out over the property. Nate guessed that the view was pretty incredible during the daylight hours. The ceiling soared a good twelve feet above them, dotted with inset can lights and hanging an impressive crystal chandelier in the center. The wall opposite the windows was covered in rich Venetian plaster and had multiple paintings of various scenes from Greek mythology, as well as a few landscapes along its thirty-some foot span. Under their feet, large, white, granite tiles gleamed with spotless perfection, each step on them yielding a soft tap as they approached a twelve foot long oval mahogany table that was polished to a mirror-like sheen and positioned directly under the chandelier. Walking beside Nate, Sully whistled. "Goddamn. I gotta get me one of these villas in the country," he muttered.

Nate shot him a bemused look while Milos addressed his grounds keeper in his authoritative yet gentle manner. "Atticus? Some drinks please. We must not fail to show hospitality to our esteemed guests. Gentlemen, your requests?"

The treasure hunters suddenly realized with a start they were being asked what they wanted to drink. Sully replied without hesitation, "Scotch, on the rocks," while Nate fumbled and stuttered, "Uh, a... beer... would be great."

Milos looked at Atticus to make sure the orders had been received. The dark-complected grounds keeper nodded and sauntered across the room to a small bar and began to prepare the drinks. "Also some coffee, please Atticus. And some toast and marmalade. Get some for yourself if you'd like. We have much to talk about." Milos then looked at Nate and Sully while he motioned to the table. "Please, sit down."

Nate shifted his weight from one foot to the other uneasily, his head bowed in something like shame. He was not quite sure how to handle being treated in such manner after being caught in the act of robbery. He raised his eyes without lifting his head and mumbled, "Uh, thanks." Quietly, he took a seat, Sully taking the chair next to him. Atticus returned, placing a tumbler of Scotch in front of Sully and a bottle of craft beer in front of Nate, then he disappeared through a set of French doors. Nate sipped his beer, vaguely noting that it was indeed quite a good brew, and fidgeted nervously. Sully also took a tentative swallow of his Scotch and quietly commented on the beauty of Milos' dining room. An awkward silence followed, but fortunately, the good doctor didn't leave the duo hanging for very long, and presently broached the imminent conversation himself.

"Well, I would like you two to know that it is quite an honor to meet you both, even if under- peculiar circumstances." He made eye contact, though not unkindly, with both Nate and Sully while saying this. "Indeed, it is something of an answer to prayer."

Both Nate and Sully's eyes widened at this, and they exchanged a glance. "We're all ears," Sully said as he looked back at Dr Adamos.

"Your reputation precedes you both, though what people make of your reputation is quite varied in the world of historians and archaeologists," Milos stated matter-of-factly. The doctor's voice was of a higher register than average for a man, but was tempered by a certain throaty gravel Nate assumed was lent him by his advancing age, resulting in a soothing quality that helped put him somewhat at ease despite his nerves.

"I can only imagine," Nate scoffed.

The doors opened and Atticus strode in, setting down a tray filled with the doctor's requested amenities, and distributed them to the three men seated at the table before sitting down with his own. Milos lifted the mug in a hand that trembled ever so slightly, his thin lips, nearly camouflaged by the deep wrinkles and creases surrounding them, parted as he took a drink of his coffee. Black, Nate noted.

"As for myself, I see that you are a much needed force in solving the many conundrums and puzzles that rise from the mists and fog of time here and there. Not restricted by the regulations and political ties that saddle orthodox archaeology, you are in an ideal, if controversial, place to handle the more unconventional cases." Milos began to spread the marmalade on his toast, the knife making a soft scraping sound as he did.

"But, Dr Adamos," Nate finally ventured to speak, "how is our breaking in an answer to prayer?"

The doctor set down his toast and knife and looked at Nate with an intensity that caught him off guard and made him shrink back in his chair, feeling like he may have said something wrong. "Tell me this. Did you come for Isaac Newton's journal?"

Nate shrugged, taking the book from his pocket and placing it on the table in front of him. "Yes."

"Why?" Milos asked evenly.

"It's what our client wanted," Sully stated. "We don't typically ask questions."

Milos shifted his gaze to Sully. "Do you know this client?"

Exchanging another look with Nate, he answered, "Not outside the immediate job, no."

Nate's eyes wandered to a large wall clock, and noticed it was now three in the morning. "Why do you ask?" he queried, turning his attention back to Adamos.

The doctor took another sip of his coffee and inhaled deeply. The effort made a raspy kind of noise. "I hope that the lateness of the night hasn't taken too much of a toll on your minds," he said, as if he noticed Nate's gaze wandering. "You'll need your wits about you for what you're about to hear."

Chuckling, Nate leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "Don't worry, I think we're fine." He took a swig of his coffee, swishing the dark, bitter liquid in his mouth before swallowing. Between the lingering adrenaline of the night that still trickled through his system and a good dose of caffeine, he had a feeling he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.

Adamos leaned back in his chair and took a bite of toast, chewing carefully and swallowing before he continued. "Forgive me if any of the information I'm about to give you seems redundant. I'm aware you probably know some of this, but in the order of explanation I feel that it's better to start at the beginning." Seeing Nate and Sully's nods of approval, he proceeded. "Sir Isaac Newton is famous, of course, for his scientific accomplishments, but also wrote a good deal on both alchemy and religion. Many of these works were unorthodox and kept secret, for fear of his being seen as heretical by the church of the day, but it's clear that he was seeking more than could be found in mainstream science. Newton was heavily influenced by, among others, Aristotle, who was in turn taught by Plato." As he named the two patriarchs of western thinking, he reached across the table and flipped through Newton's journal, first to an image of one, then the other. "Plato is the originator of the legend of Atlantis." At the mention of Atlantis Nate stiffened, his attention now thoroughly glued to the doctor. "Although Plato's account of Atlantis has proved sufficiently vague to leave historians and amateurs alike grasping at straws for the last two millennia, it seems that he may have known more than he made public. This knowledge was something he would have only passed on to his most trusted friends, someone who could continue his search."

"Someone like Aristotle," Sully deduced. Draining the last of his scotch, he slid the glass tumbler aside and started on his coffee. A few seats down from the rest of the group, Atticus looked like he might fall asleep from boredom.

Milos gave the briefest of nods. "Exactly. Aristotle would have kept the knowledge alive, though how much he initially did with it is not certain. What is certain is that the knowledge was either deliberately passed or otherwise discovered by his most ambitious student-"

"Alexander the Great," Nate exclaimed, his eyes widening.

Another nod, this time supplemented with a smile. "I see you do have your wits on you still. Very good." Milos took another sip of coffee, slurping a bit as the cup trembled in his hand. "Alexander's attempt to deify himself is well known, as is his search for the legendary 'fountain of youth', which would have, in effect, legitimized his claim to godhood. According to Newton's research, Alexander believed, from what was passed down to him by Aristotle and Plato, that the fountain was in Atlantis. As Alexander's self-aggrandizing facade grew increasingly irritating and his adoption of Persian ways and customs became more and more offensive to the Greeks, however, Aristotle eventually became estranged from his one-time student. Alexander obviously never found what he was looking for, either due to Aristotle's withdrawal, potentially with a crucial piece of information, or, possibly," he paused meaningfully, "Aristotle may have facilitated Alexander's death."

"Assassination, huh?" Sully asked, leaning in.

"It's possible," Nate mused. "The stories about Alexander's death have named multiple people as potential conspirators, Aristotle included."

"If that's the case, which it might not be," Milos continued in his seemingly imperturbable and placid tone, "it would seem to point to something that Aristotle felt should not fall into the hands of a man as reckless as Alexander. Either way, Newton espoused that Atlantis was a kind of primeval giant of a society, being highly advanced in science and technology, potentially holding some of the alchemical mysteries he longed to understand, and perhaps even the key to eternal life." He took another bite of toast, and it crunched so loudly that Nate briefly wondered if it could possibly break the frail-looking doctor's jaw. "He saw parallels between Atlantis and the garden of Eden- a paradise that could provide us with a wealth of knowledge about our world and ourselves. Also with the Chinese legend of Peng Lai."

Nate paused to consider for a minute, then said, "I'm afraid I still don't understand, Doctor. It seems you know quite a bit about this, and I don't see how us trying to steal the journal is any kind of a help."

Milos swallowed, another action which seemed formidable for such a frail looking person. "I have spent the better part of the last ten years researching this, but have only found this one journal. You will find it contains a wealth of information that will prove useful, but much is still missing." He paused and ran his tongue over his very dry lips. "In the journal, Newton makes mention of a lab somewhere where he kept all his research that would more explicitly tell what he believed was there in Atlantis and where he thought it was. My guess is he hid such papers elsewhere for secrecy's sake, and for fear of being excommunicated or dishonored by the church. For the same reason he remained elusive about where the lab is, saying only that it was in the 'chapel of the moon'. I've searched but been unable to find anything to match such a vague description. Also he mentions a key- quite an unusual one."

"The sphere? The one you have a sketch of on your desk?" Nate asked eagerly.

"The same," Adamos said.

Chuckling, Nate revealed, "Yeah. I think I found that."

Milos' eyes went wide, and his hand began to shake even more than usual as he returned his mug to the table in mid-drink, possibly to avoid sloshing the contents through his violent tremors. "You found the astrolabe? Where?"

"Delphi," he said with a smile.

"Of course," the doctor spoke softly, his dim green eyes focused intently on Nathan's. He seemed to consider for a moment, then said with authority, "Drake, you must find the lab, find where Atlantis is, and finish what I began!"

Nate's mouth formed an "O" and he swallowed a bite of toast and marmalade whole. "But-but it's your research. Your hard work! And besides, I just can't-"

"My advancing age and declining health keep me from being able to do field work any longer," the doctor cut in, "and as I mentioned before, all of us in the world of formal archaeologists and historians are somewhat limited in what we can do. I'm afraid only someone in your particular position would be able to make the necessary progress."

Nate faltered as he searched for a way to explain his predicament. "Point taken, Doctor Adamos, but I- I can't."

Sully raised his eyebrows. Milos leaned back in his chair and regarded Nate curiously. Atticus snored loudly, slowly leaning farther and farther to the side.

"Why, might I ask, is the man who discovered Eldorado and Shambala unwilling to go after Atlantis?" Milos asked, his tone even and steady. "What did you get the astrolabe for, if not to go after it?"

Still looking a bit dumbstruck, Nate blurted, "That was a curiosity. Just a side project. I got tipped off about it and nabbed it while my wife and I were sightseeing in Greece. I just- I can't. She's gonna flip if I go off on another crazy search for some lost city right now!" he stammered.

A silence fell over everyone at the table- except for Atticus, who nearly toppled from his chair and woke with a start. Adamos again broke the silence in a carefully measured, foreboding voice. "The search for Atlantis is greater than any man's personal trouble. We must all, at times, make great sacrifices for the greater good." He paused. "If this client of yours hired you to steal the journal, I would venture to say he is not the type to be deterred from finding out what he wants to know- whether or whether not he gets the journal from you. Do you believe him to be trustworthy?"

"Garnier?" Sully asked. "He's just some croissant-eating scientist who probably wants it as a trophy. He's harmless."

"How much is he paying you?" Milos asked.

"Twenty thou," Sully stated matter-of-factly. Then he cocked his head to the side as if having a sudden thought. "Eh, I see your point."

"I implore you, gentlemen, for the sake of the world, ensure that this man has good motives for wanting this," Milos exhorted them, waving the journal in the air and then sliding it back across the table to Nate. "If not, you must find Atlantis before he does, and stop whatever it holds from falling into the wrong hands."

Nate looked at him aghast. "You're going to let us just leave with the journal?"

The doctor smiled thinly at him. "My work is done here, Mr Drake. I trust you to do the right thing with it." He stood, sliding his chair back across the tiles with a scrape, and Nate and Sully followed suit. "Do you require an escort back to your vehicle?"

"Ah," Nate's mind whirled as he struggled to form words. "We're fine."

"Very well then." He reached out and shook both of their hands. "Once again, it has been an honor."

The two treasure hunters mumbled their agreement and walked to the door. Just as it was about to close behind Nate, Milos' voice stopped him. "Nathan?"

Nate just looked at him through the partly-open door in response.

"Just be warned," the doctor said softly. "The path to Atlantis will be more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

Nate hesitated in the doorway for a moment longer, eying the old man, and said in a low voice, "I've got a pretty good imagination." He then joined Sully outside, closing the door behind him.

As the pair strode across the field back to the road and their waiting car, Sully muttered, "I've never been so confused as to whether to call a job a success or a failure before."

"I know what you mean," Nate replied, his mouth set grimly.