CHAPTER 2
Party Crashers

    On the corner of Fifth Avenue and 82ND Street, a tall light skinned African woman with long, micro-braided hair sat in an old, two-door black corvette, looking at the museum in her rear view mirror. She was careful to park far enough away from the traffic and police presence to have a clear sighting of the crowds and of the situation she oversaw. An hour ago she saw the limousine delivering Madame Petrakis to the front steps and several minutes later the escorted broadcast team Channel 6 into the museum. She also escorted another man into the museum, who the woman knew from the live broadcasts. A smile came across her full lips as she knew all the pieces were in place. The announcement about the foundation was concluded with applause, light dinner and then a tour of the newly refurbished Metropolitan. Thus far her inside man was in position at the party, the thieves in gathered among the patrons outside and the museum guard she paid off was awaiting orders from her. A buzzing from her smartphone prompted her immediate attention. After disabling her security lock, she read an incoming text message:

    Sender: All is ready, now is the time to go.

    The woman pressed a button on her phone to allow her speech to become text.

    "Have you confirmed that Petrakis has her collection on exhibit?" She pressed send.
   
    Thirty seconds later she got a reply:

    Sender: Yes. Have your people focus on the artifacts I specified and the evening will be complete.

    Her reply, "Will do." As she put down her phone, a uniformed officer stepped to her window and tapped on the driver-side window, indicating for her to roll it down.

    "Miss, you can't be parked here. You will have to move your vehicle," the officer ordered.

    Slowly, she reached into her bag on the opposite seat and presented the officer with a wallet without saying a word. The young officer took the wallet and opened it. His posture changed immediately. "I am sorry Captain Williams. I didn't know you were one of us."

    The woman, identified as Captain Janet Williams of the New York Police Department, took back her wallet without turning to the young officer, who was now standing at attention. "How is the event going? No incidents, to report Officer Ramirez?" she asked noting his name badge on his jacket uniform.

    "No ma'am! We have traffic moving smoothly as you can see behind you and people outside here are behaving. Most of the news vans left and I imagine when the party is over in the museum, we will direct the guests out from the car port into traffic-"

    "That is good officer, thank you." She held up a hand to silence him. She opened the car door and stepped out. This woman easily towered over the uniformed officer as he was looking up into the face. She stood six feet, two inches tall and her long micro braids pulled into a pony tail. Even in the flat boots she was wearing, she was imposing and somewhat intimidating. Officer Ramirez only stood five foot, eight inches. Her black short light trench coat was pulled snuggly around her curvaceous frame. Noticing she was under intense observation, she brought the officer's attention back to the museum.

    "Who is the detective in charge of this detail?" Captain Williams asked, motioning with her well-manicured hands.

    "Detective Lieutenant Dylan Brenson from the Robbery Division, 19TH Precinct. He is working with the Central Park and 20TH Precincts for this security detail for the Metropolitan."

    Satisfied with the information the officer has given she looked into his eyes with hers opened wide. He stared blankly into large white orbs that were the woman's eyes and lost his train of thought. Captain Williams placed Officer Ramirez into a brief hypnotic trance and spoke softly. "Officer Ramirez, you will remember nothing of me or of this conversation. You asked the occupant of the vehicle to move on and she did. When the car drives away, you will go back to your fellow officers and continue with your duties for this event."

    "Yes ma'am," answered the bewildered officer. Satisfied that her suggestion took hold, Captain Williams scanned the crowd outside the museum and saw four individuals that caught her attention. She recognized them and was satisfied they were waiting for their opportunity to move in when she gave the word to do so. Her eyes immediately returned to their normal light brown eye color and she let out a short exhale. Officer Ramirez turned slowly back to the captain as she entered her corvette. The tall woman buckled her seat belt and turned over the car.

    "Yes officer, I will move immediately. Have a good night." She put the car in gear and drove off down East 82ND street.

    Officer Ramirez stood in the street for a few seconds before coming out of his trance. He blinked a few times as if he was distracted or waking up from a dream. He remembered he was speaking to a woman and then she moved her car. Thinking nothing more about it, Officer Ramirez walked back to the museum and to the police command truck parked down the block from the front of the Metropolitan.

    Detective Dylan Brenson stood in his beige overcoat inside of the Police Command Truck listening to the officers in charge of the scene at the museum report on the situation. After hearing from the last sergeant, he spoke to the officers. "Gentlemen, it seems whatever situations we were expecting won't manifest this evening. The crowd has been quiet, the guests are not as unruly as we thought and we don't have to worry about any other problems, just the guests leaving from the museum. It looks like we will be done by 11:00PM the latest."

    The officers clapped and cheered. Although many of them were happy to see the museum open on a personal level, crowd control duty was the least favorite in a police officer's career. Still, this particular assignment no one minded, especially in anticipation of what was coming.

    "Now guys," the detective started with his hands raised to quiet the group. "Madame Petrakis has thanked us for our help in keeping the outside security and traffic manageable. No doubt she has made several sizable donations to charities here in New York City, but she took it a step further. She is going to feed us as well."

    Everyone was silent for a moment considering regulations and policies of the police department, not to mention the ethics involved. Then, as if everyone was connected telepathically, everyone smiled and shared an elated sense of joy. From a side entrance of the museum, six caterers walked out toward the main Police Command Truck carrying two large white bags in each hand. The lead caterer, a young man with blonde hair, used one free hand and knocked on the outer door. An officer opened the door and received the bags and passed them to another officer inside. The caterers then walked quickly back inside, presumably to finish with the dinner and then start to wind down for the evening.

    The smell of food quickly filled the police command center and everyone's mouth was watering with anticipation. All of the food was unpacked and set on a small table. Detective Brenson was about to start passing out the food and make arrangements for all of the officers to eat in rotating shifts, when another detective working under Brenson pointed out an obvious flaw in the plan.

    "Officers, you are all in possible violation of ethics and procedures. Accepting and eating this food will warrant reprimands and possible suspensions." Detective Gabriel Holmes came from a long line of dedicated police officers for over sixty years, all working for the NYPD. No officer in the Holmes line ever wavered from their sense of duty and could not stand corruption in any other officer they served with. Detective Holmes was respected and generally well liked. In this instance, everyone wished he would look the other way.

    "Detective Holmes, in this scenario, acceptance of food is not a violation of ethics or procedures, merely maintaining the human condition," answered Detective Brenson.

    "I can't see how this is maintaining the human condition unless you are counting bribery and accepting gifts-"

    "No!" Detective Brenson took his partner into the back area of the command space to speak privately. "Look at it this way. Are we not human beings on planet Earth? Do we not need food to live? Well Madame Petrakis is looking after the well-being of the human beings that are looking after her museum. So relax!"

    The young detective thought about it for a moment and realized on that line of thought he was correct. But how he would allow this was beyond him. "I don't think I can take part of this, maybe I should go outside and watch the crowds or direct traffic."

    "Nonsense, we all worked hard and deserve dinner. If officers are not focused or are concerned at finding something to eat, it makes for problems. If we all eat together, we can still maintain our perimeter and not have to worry where is officer so-and-so to report back to their posts. Besides," Detective Brenson held out his hand and an officer placed an aluminum container in his hand. He smiled and handed the container to his partner. "I made sure they had a vegetarian dinner for you."

    He took off the plastic cover to reveal a spinach vegetable wrap with Italian dressing in small plastic cups. The young detective inhaled the aroma of the sandwich wrap and a small smile crossed his lips. "You planned this, didn't you?"

    Detective Brenson smiled. "You know I am good with details and I know my partner. Just don't let this bother your conscience much."

    Between the vegetable wrap he was holding and the honor of his family, Detective Holmes wondered what to do. Part of him felt as if he was being manipulated but he knew his partner was right. He started to eat the wrap and was surprised it was so good. All the vegetables had the taste and texture of just being freshly picked from a garden. He admired it and his stomach thanked him. Swallowing a mouthful of vegetables he looked at Detective Brenson. "I hate it when you are right. I guess we can accept this humanitarian aid as a gesture for the officers who worked so hard this evening."

    "Glad to hear it, eat up, I will go and coordinate the dinner schedule," Detective Brenson left Detective Holmes to eat his dinner in peace as he returned to the small table where the food sat and began to work out a schedule for the officers to go on dinner break. Knowing the number of officers still on duty and the general time for the event to be over, Detective Brenson ordered all officers a half hour break but staggered them in fifteen minute intervals. No officer would be permitted to leave the site and had to check in for dinner. Many were permitted to sit in the patrol cars or the command center to eat in some form of privacy. He also knew that if any situations were to rear its ugly head, all officers will be ready to respond with the dignity and training they have all come to know.

    "I hope that will not be the case tonight," Detective Brenson said to himself.

    As the evening wore on, many of the spectators gathered outside went home after spending most of the evening getting pictures of their favorite celebrities but also waiting for the off chance of mingling inside the Metropolitan. Rumors started to circulate through the crowd that the gracious hostess Madame Petrakis will allow some of the patrons into the museum. It was highly unlikely due to the presence of so many private security guards watching the Metropolitan inside and out. They made their patrols around the museum but most were focused on the front door, seeing that no uninvited guests would attempt to breach the security.

    One of the various patrols, a three-person team, came to the front door to check on the status of the guard duty. The guards were easily identifiable: all wore dark blue jackets, black pants, gray shirts and white ties. Although they would be on-duty security for the museum, they were detached from the private security firm Madame Petrakis owned. She funded their additional training to work at the Metropolitan. Employing people from all over the world from the local areas, they were the best trained individuals money can buy. Nothing would spoil the event inside the museum and no one outside would be able to bypass these guards for any reason. Museum guards escorted the caterers back in to the side entrance of the Metropolitan, as patrols outside continued to monitor grounds and crowds of people.

    This behavior was under the notice of four men who blended into the crowd waiting for their opportunity to enter the Metropolitan. A tall, Greek, bald man noticed the security and made mental notes of their actions, his watchful green eyes catching every detail of the patrols. "Damn. Patrols are too tight for us to find an alternate route in. I would not try it even if we are getting paid good money." The bald man, who called himself Demetrius Stone, rubbed his smooth head as he leaned closer to the leader of the group.

    "I told you not to worry," Marco Ortega from Spain said with ease as he looked at his tablet, scrolling through data for the upcoming operation. He scratched his goatee as he puzzled over the items on his list to procure. "Once we get the signal, we walk in, make our pickup, change and walk out with no problems."

    He looked at Demetrius with a grin. "This is the easiest job we have ever taken. So easy in fact we should have done this for free. But I am glad the money will change my mind about it."

    A young Chinese man in his twenties leaned in on a conversation he was not originally a part of. "One or two of us should be carrying just in case we need to make an impromptu escape. I don't like going into a situation without some protection or insurance…if you get my drift." Samsone Zee was the only one who felt this way in the means of establishing a more violent solution to the job they were on.

    "How many times do I and the rest of us need to keep telling you? We are not killers. We will use guns if the situation calls for it. And here in the states if you are caught with firearms while on a robbery," Marco said lowering his voice as he looked around. No one was paying his group any attention and he then continued. "Look kid, so far you have been on a couple of jobs with us, made some good money and nothing happened. We enjoy our money and freedom, our employer enjoys our plunder. Ours is a good outfit to be in and we don't have anyone looking for us in terms of police. So if you are so anxious to use guns and to shoot it out with the police, there are tons of gangs for that type of stuff."

    Samsone met the hard gaze from Marco for a few seconds and then backed down. If it were not for his ability for lock picking and computer hacking, Marco would not mind seeing the young hot head in police custody or better yet, at the bottom of a ravine somewhere isolated. His time may come, but until then he could keep his place which would be quiet and out of the way.

    The fourth man of the group, Robert Frankz, a German man experienced in concealment and extraction of guarded items, kept a casual focus on the main doors and the guard who will allow them access to their objective. His blue eyes made visual contact several times and each time she shook her head.

"We still have no word from Lian," Robert said with a slight German accent. "Do you think the job may be canceled?"

    Marco put away his tablet. "I hope not. This is the opportune time to get the items for our employer. Waiting for a later opportunity will put our job at risk. This is it. We just have to wait."

    Robert nodded his head and went back to observing the security guard as she spoke to additional museum guards who approached. Several feet from the main door, he could hear what was being discussed; he discerned that it was their normal operations for the security detail for the night's gala. He casually monitored but drew not attention to himself or to his group as they waited for her signal.

    "Everything calm here Lian?" asked the outside security patrolman as he approached the Chinese security woman. Her thick black hair was pulled into a short ponytail save for a few locks that caressed her face. Among the staff, no one could ever guess her age. Many thought she was barely eighteen; a few mean spirited comments drew an age closer to retirement and she only darkened her hair. Despite all the observations, Lian Zhou Zhu was only twenty-five years of age and had accomplished much since working for the Petrakis security firm. She made the status of lieutenant in charge of operations, which meant she was close to command structure of the firm as well had chance encounters with the owner and operator, Madame Cynthia Petrakis. She enjoyed the privilege of being in charge and trusted for this detail in the museum. Lian was indeed proud of her status and even more so, proud that no watchful eyes would be pointed in her direction.

    "All is well out here," she spoke with clear a New York accent. "Several people pleaded with me for information or to even let them in for a few minutes but I turned them down."

    The security patrolman, Shawn Greene, asked, "So how much were they offering?"

    "Peanuts and pitons. I told a few of them to go the nearest ATM and make a large withdrawal and then I would seriously consider it." The six guards laughed quietly. All of them admired the young woman as she was known to be above reproach. Other security details would have let a few people sneak in. Patrolman Greene looked at the two guards with him and signaled with his hand to move out and continued their patrol. The other guards with Lian moved back to their posts and continued their watch over the slowly thinning crowd. The eyes of the German man caught her attention. For a few seconds they locked stares and then with a negative nod, Lian indicated the time was not right and they would still have to wait. Robert nodded and turned back to his comrades as they waited for the signal from their accomplice.

    Three blocks away, the tall black woman calling herself Williams maneuvered her corvette into a semi-deserted side street and turned off her car. She pulled out her phone and was about to send a message to her internal contact at the museum gala when the phone buzzed in her hand. She looked at the caller identification and her eyes widened.

    "I thought you would still be in your isolation chamber recuperating or better still preparing for your great mission," she answered the caller.

    With a tired raspy female voice, the caller spoke to her comment. "I would have been meditating and even sleeping until I had this notion you have used your powers. I remember forbidding you from doing so without my permission or if it is important to do so."

    "It was. I didn't want my cover to be remembered or connected with our little enterprise," she explained. "Besides, I wanted to test my powers of persuasion in the real world, not on some test subjects we find at random."

    A silence fell over them for a short while and then the voice spoke again. "I do not want anything to jeopardize this venture, my dear Ja'Meela. We are close to implementing the next phase of my plan. I will tolerate no failure if we can secure the museum pieces this Petrakis woman has on display."

    "I have been in touch with Cromwell and when he confirms the items are on the premises, I will instruct our agents to move. Before the end of the night I will have in my possession the items you require."

    "I don't doubt it my dear Ja'Meela. Proceed and we will speak soon." The caller ended the conversation and left the woman (who identified herself as Captain Williams also was known as Ja'Meela) to sit in silence. She is the majordomo to a very powerful woman who uses her vast wealth to achieve any goal, obtain any items with any persons who are valuable enough to achieve them, but easy enough to dispose of. In Ja'Meela's case, she is a great asset to her employer but also knows utter failure will make her very expendable. In all of the years she has served her, Ja'Meela and failure rarely met face to face. This was on her mind as she sent a text to Abraham Cromwell. Cleverly planted into the museum by being a restorer of art, he was able to easily identify the artifacts for Ja'Meela's mistress. All that was needed was a text or phone call from the art restorer so they could get this job over and done with. Ja'Meela drove her corvette several blocks away to a pre-designated drop off point where, if all went well, her men would do the job and this night would be put behind them so she and her mistress could get on with the other plans. Monumental, as Ja'Meela thought to herself.

    The information Ja'Meela waited for came via instant message texts:

    Cromwell: Our tour has started and Cynthia Petrakis is keeping a watchful eye over her guests, along with her security guards.

    Ja'Meela: Are the guards well dispersed for our entrance?

    Cromwell: Yes. Two guards escorted an archaeologist on a private tour, a number of them are on tour with Petrakis and the rest are on patrol outside of the museum.

    Ja'Meela: Have you identified the objects we have requested?

    Cromwell: Yes, we have left the Greek exhibit and all of the items are here. You can contact your men and have them enter the museum. We are now in the central wing of the museum on the third floor. The Greek exhibit is on the second floor, east wing.

    Ja'Meela: Well done. I will contact them immediately. Your transaction is now concluded.

    A broad smile came across Ja'Meela's face as she sent the text to Security Guard Lian Zhou Zhu to play her role in this caper.

Front Main Entrance of the Metropolitan Museum, New York City, October 15, 2012, 9:30PM

    Lian felt a buzzing in her pocket and she picked up her company issued smart device and read the message displayed on the screen. It read one word, "Commence." In anticipation of what was about to happen and feeling uneasy, Lian thought about her compensation and what she will be able to do with it. She settled into her new role and turned to the two guards with her.

    "Gentleman, please unlock the doors. I just received word Madame Petrakis will allow the people gathered here into the museum for a sneak preview tour."

    The guard named Harris Browne looked at her in question. "What? That is nonsense! In the briefing this morning nobody said anything about letting people in off the street. It will ruin all of the preparations and not to mention put additional stress on our security procedures."

    The second guard, Michael Dale nodded his head in agreement. "Lian are you sure that this is coming from the top. This hardly seems like-"

    "I have orders from Madame Petrakis herself! If you delay in carrying out her instructions, I can guarantee you won't be working for the Petrakis Security firm." With a stern look, Lian stood straight and stared both men down. Eventually, they looked to each other and began to unlock the main doors. Once they unlocked them, they slowly swung them open. Just inside, the caterers were just packing up the dinner course and preparing to serve dessert when they all felt the rush of cool air entered the main hall. All of them traded uncertain looks until they heard one of the guards make a dreaded announcement to the people outside on the steps.

    "Good evening everyone. On behalf of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Madame Cynthia Petrakis, we wish to thank you for your support and invite you in for a late night opening. Please enjoy the food and the museum reopening." She gave a slight bow as she stepped aside with her right arm extended in welcome. At first the people behind the rope barriers did not know what to make of it. And suddenly, as if everyone was waiting for the first brave one to cross the barriers, several people unhinged the ropes and walked up the steps. A collected cheer rang out as people made their way into the museum.

    The four men, waiting for the signal, turned their attention to surging crowd spectators rushing through the doors of the museum. Samsone Zee made an observation as he watched the people make their way into the museum. "I have never seen so many folks rush into a museum. The only way you would get me or some of my friends into a place like this, they would have to be giving away free food."

    "Lian did say there is free food being offered, perhaps you could go a grab a quick bite while we are in there," Marco remarked as he began walking with the crowd.

    "Could we, I am starved!" Samsone drew angry stares from Marco, Robert and Demetrius and then realized he needed to stay focused.

    All four men walked deep into the crowd as to lose themselves before the police would take notice of the sudden change in plans. Robert opened the bag and had his hands inside it. Luckily, the crowd infiltrated the museum and occupied the front hall, the first floor and was moving up to the second floor. The two museum guards stationed at the front door with Lian were cut off and on the inside being pushed into the museum. Lian pushed herself away from the crowd behind the columns in front of the museum. She quickly stripped off her jacket, shirt and tie. Robert reached her and handed her a light green jacket, brown colored wig and plain glasses to disguise herself as she entered the museum.

    Some of the spectators approached the catering tables demanding food. None of the catering chefs would serve the people and as a result, arguments and fights began. The noise began to draw attention as well as the few guards from the front door. Immediately they began to call out to the other guards and attempted to calm the situation down. What turned out to be a beautiful night of gala and art was now turning into mild chaos. Marco and his cohorts slipped deeper into the museum on their way to commit a robbery of the predetermined artifacts.

    Detective Brenson and the officers on security detail for the Metropolitan had just finished their dinner, graciously provided by Madame Petrakis, and had brief meeting to discuss the wind down procedures for the night.

    "All right everyone, I imagine everything will be over in about another hour and New York City can get back to its normal dull roar. Now all we have to do is coordinate the departure of the guests with the museum security and we can clock out for the night," Detective Brenson was conveying the feeling to his officers when Detective Holmes burst into the mobile command truck breathing heavily.

    "Lieutenant?! Are you aware that people are entering the museum? I thought this was a closed event. Everyone is going in and from what I hear, the guards let them in!" The officers in the command center were instantly on their feet and many of them dashed out of the door heading to the museum entrance.

    Detectives Brenson and Holmes made their way through the crowd and into to the main hall of the Metropolitan, looking for any of the museum guards. They found three running up to meet them.

    "Gentleman, please tell me this an impromptu publicity stunt that the esteemed Madame Petrakis ordered at the last minute," asked Detective Brenson, already knowing the answer.

    One museum guard was attempting to communicate with the security office over the walkie-talkie while the museum guard grimly shook his head. "Negative. All I know is someone at the front door open the doors and let the people in." He looked around in abject horror as to try to figure out where to start.

    "Call all of your guards in to clear the hall and then we can sweep the museum for any who have wondered off," Detective Holmes directed while calling into his walkie-talkie ordering other officers into action. The entire main hall was filled with noise, excitement and chaos from the incoming crowd of spectators. Officers and guards began ushering people out of the museum. Some spectators protested, were arrested and taken out to waiting police cruisers. Most of the crowd dispersed into the museum halls and exhibits away from the main hall. Guards worked their way through the first floor where as many as fifty persons spread deeper into the Metropolitan. After a few minutes, Detectives Brenson and Holmes with four Metropolitan guards gathered near the catering tables and sat to discuss the events leading to the chaos.

    "It seems one of our people, Lian Zhou Zhu, has opened the doors and allowed the crowd in. No one authorized this and we are looking for her," one the guards stated. Two more guards joined the impromptu conference at the catering tables.

    "Sir, Lian told us to let the people in and it was an order from the Madame Petrakis. When the crowd entered we lost sight of her, we don't know where she is." Metropolitan Security Guard Harris Browne recounted the events leading up to the chaos. All eyes were on him and his partner Michael Dale. Blame was going to be placed but now was not the time. Detective Brenson stood up.

    "Okay, here is the plan. Our officers will continue to move the people out of the museum and secure grounds outside. We will carry the more outspoken party crashers down to the precinct." He turned to the Metropolitan guards and spoke to them. "I want you and your men go through the museum round up the rest of the uninvited and escort them out. Has anyone contacted Madame Petrakis?"

    "We called her group and they are moving the guests to the second floor lounge." reported the guard.

    From atop the balcony overlook, Madame Petrakis looked down on the noise of the crowd with a look that either meant disgust, anger or bewilderment. Detective Brenson could not tell which but it was obvious she did not like what she was seeing.

    "Let's get this under control immediately!" Detective Brenson motioned for everyone to get to their assignments and to get this turmoil out of the Metropolitan.

    A clever distraction, Marco thought to himself as he and his cohorts broke away from the main crowd heading straight for the Greek and Roman Art exhibit which was in the eastern most area on the second floor. With all the people in the area, slipping away was the easiest part of the night. Getting the items from their displays and slipping out would be the challenge. Marco kept it on his mind but did not let it worry him too much. Looking at his tablet, he brought up the list of items to be acquired and in the sections in which they are located. Lian was useful in maneuvering the group into passage ways and corners to make them undetectable during the erratic sweep of the Metropolitan guards. She knew, from her training and briefings of standard operating procedures, they only have several minutes before all of the guards are called in to do an intensive sweep of the museum.

    Lian silently regretted taking this particular job but the money was too good to pass up. The she will earn, Lian can finally relocate on the west coast to be with the man she long desired to call husband. Circumstances and other obligations kept her in New York City longer than she planned. If this job is pulled off successfully, she can be long gone before the police or Cynthia Petrakis would be able to catch up to her.

    She looked along the wall to a security junction box. Alarm and camera circuits ran through this connection and it was here the robbery would be made possible. Using her security keys, she opened the box, tapped a four-digit security code, and the system indicator went from red to green. Samsone came up behind her and worked on disconnecting the cables that connected the alarm and surveillance cameras. Once he disconnected them, he attached a device to the side of the box and plugged the various cables into it. The device indicator displayed a complex computer code and then went black. A red light on the top of the device started to blink.

    "Good, the cameras and security systems are being scrambled," the young boy said as he smiled in Lian's face, hoping to get some favor from her. She simply nodded her head and closed the panel, ignoring Samsone's gawking expression. She gave thumbs up to Marco and the group moved on.

    The five thieves entered the exhibit area designated Ancient Documentation where dozens of Greek and Latin documents written on parchment hung on walls and placed in display cases sealed in plastic. Robert produced a large portfolio and a brief case for placing non-parchment items, that we also on the list. Marco pointed to the first case where it held Greek writings of the ancient spell casting, according to the display placard. Samsone went up to a display case and quickly looked it over as Demetrius Stone produced a set of lock picking tools. Samsone smiled as he went to his pocket and produced two circuit boards with small alligator clips attached to each.

    "Alright kid, try this out on this case first before we open the others," Marco ordered.

    "No problem. If this works, my little gadget will loop the alarm signal so it will not go off. But it is temporary. Open the case, take the item, close it and disconnect the circuit boards. Simple." Samsone was pleased with himself and also showing off to the others that he was not just a kid who didn't know what he was doing. He attached the circuit-enablers, he called them, to the metal side of the display case. Demetrius picked the lock and opened the case quickly. No alarm sounded. Everyone drew a deep breath and exhaled. It worked! Demetrius grabbed the four documents on display and Samsone disconnected them.

    "As I said, simple!" He tossed a pair of the small boards to Marco as he and Robert went to work on another case as Samsone and Demetrius started working on the next case.

    Lian, still dressed in her disguise, kept watch and monitored the radio conversations of her soon to be former co-workers, making sure to keep the audio low. She looked back and the four men doing their work. Within five minutes, they have already cleared three display cases moving with precision. In Lian's view, they were moving to slow for her. Additional chatter could be heard over the frequencies as Samsone's device was wreaking havoc on the security systems of the museum. The security guards were changing their strategies. Time was running out.

    "Why don't you smash the cases and we can make a dash for the side exits," she asked in a panicked state.

    Marco walked over to calmly explain their motives. "First my dear, smashing the cases will bring more attention to our little retrieval, thereby bringing the guards and police in sooner. Second, the police will be angry enough that we caused this crowd scene on a night the city needs this museum open. If we start vandalizing and destroying private property, it will tighten the noose around our necks if we can't get away." He paused and looked Lian in the eyes. "Keep it together. It will be a few more minutes and we will be out of here without anyone seeing us. You will be financially set."

    The former female guard relented but then turned her ear to the radio. Museum guards called a code 023, which meant to secure all emergency exits and to start closing off unoccupied areas with steel barrier gates. "We have to move faster! They will be coming this way!"

    "What happened?" asked Marco.

    "They have a procedure in which to either trap or prevent any intruders or trespassers from roaming the museum. They will search this area and then close off each section with these gates." Lian pointed to the suspended steel gates above the entrance ways for the area. Marco frowned but kept his cool.

    "This simply means we cannot duck through the exits as we first planned. We will have to go out through the front door. Guys," he turned to the other three men working to store away the borrowed items. "How much longer? Do we have everything on our shopping list?"

    Robert nodded his head. "We are almost done. We have six more cases and then we can leave."

    "What if they check your portfolio and the storage case when we walk out-"

    "They won't see a thing Lian," Robert replied cutting her off. "We take the originals and slide them inside our portfolio here. If they check it, they will see only posters, not ancient Greek spells and incantations. Besides, they are looking for people and not checking on the exhibits. By the time they do, we are long gone."

    Marco returned to the group and finished opening the displays. Lian remained to keep watch and listen to the radio. From her estimates, they had three more minutes before the guards search the section and then lock it down with the steel gates. "Everyone, let's wrap it up. Robert, Demetrius, start preparing the items for walk out. Samsone, gather up your toys and make sure the displays have no marks of tampering."

    Robert and Demetrius acknowledged Marco. But Samsone was nowhere to be found. "Where is that kid?" Everyone in the room looked around but saw he was gone. Marco got worried and then got angry.

    Several minutes earlier in another part the Metropolitan, the African Art exhibit area, Jerimiah Clarke and two Metropolitan guards walked through the exhibit slowly. The guards escorted the archaeologist through the area as he worked feverishly on his tablet. He pulled up files and documents on the previous museum robberies across the country for the last few months. His research indicated the thieves would steal documentation, amulets and other articles pertaining to areas of mysticism, metaphysical and the ethereal realms. In short magic and how ancient societies would evoke incantations for whatever purpose of the user would deem fit. Ironically, more valuable items made of gold, silver, solid bronze were available for the taking; rare gem stones were also looked over as well. Items such as these would be stolen, sold to private brokers or ransomed for their return. However, the ancient writings that were stolen in other museums were valuable, not in the monetary sense but only to those versed in languages of the era. Many of those writings held deep, hidden message above the visible written text on parchment.

    In the depth of his soul, Jerimiah knew if the ethereal forces were ever unleashed, it would be difficult to control. Only someone who possessed the knowledge of such occurrences can wield the power. For a moment, he wondered if Cynthia Petrakis had the ability or did she just want to display such works for the museums.

    The archaeologist finished his observation of a piece titled, "The Shaman's Dreams" discovered in Ethiopia in the year 1580. Partially translated, the writing documented by an unnamed village shaman indicated his vibrant dreams and the possibility of the existence of the astral realm: a place where the soul can travel outside the human body and can either go forward or backward in time. This would give the shaman intimate knowledge of events past or future to guide his village toward a better life. Archaeologists and other scientists dismissed such writings as fantasy or works of fiction. It could be suggested some of the visions were brought about by hallucinogenic drugs that could conjure up anything the mind wished to see.

    "No way was every ancient civilization was high on drugs," Jerimiah said aloud but to himself. The two guards turned and looked at their charge.

    "What was that you said?" the guard named Tom Teige asked.

    "Sorry, talking to myself." Jerimiah paused and turned to the guards. "Do you guys believe in ethereal and mystical energies in which man has some ability to understand and use?"

    The second guard John Patts, spoke to the inquiry. "You mean like the Force?"

    "Yes," Jerimiah laughed. "Like the Force. There is an energy that is present in all things and every object has their own internal vibration rate."

    "What are you getting at my friend?" asked Tom as he stepped closer to Jerimiah.

    "What if you can harness and even command those dynamisms? Conjure spirits and demons, control the mysterious dark forces? Or even incur God's wrath? Just about every ancient belief system speaks of such forces being wielded and unleashed." Jerimiah noticed both guards were staring at him confused.

    "So, our boss has put magical weapons of mass destruction in front for all of New York to see on a daily basis?" John asked in an uncertain voice.

    Jerimiah felt he was losing the interest of his escorts and then decided to keep the conversation to a minimum. "No, I believe the good lady merely placed these items for education and entertainment. I don't think there is anything to worry about." At times Jerimiah can get carried away with himself and his enthusiasm. However, most people he has met don't share his deep appreciation for the strange, bizarre and unknown forces in the world. He has experienced too many unexplained phenomena only which the ancient ways could offer any explanation.

    Tom was about to mention something about Jerimiah's views, when his radio buzzed with chatter. Undistinguishable from where Jerimiah and John stood, Tom's posture of suggested a serious situation had risen in the museum. Listening intently, Jerimiah heard the noise of people in the main hall.

    "Would that be Madame Petrakis guests getting rowdy on a night like this?"

    "No," Tom answered signaling for John to join him. "It looks like someone opened the front doors and let the people in for a night tour, a code 023. We are going to assist with crowd control. We are going to leave you here and come back for you once this is done. You won't be any trouble will you?"

    "No. But what if I see anything occurring that should not? Jerimiah asked.

    John pointed to a phone on the wall at the entrance of the African exhibit room. "Dial 2 and ask to speak to Daniela Harker, our chief of security. Tell her you were escorted by Tom and John and the nature of the call. She will get help to you if need it."

    Tom turned to Jerimiah before they ran out. "Now stay out of trouble Mr. Clarke. We know where you are so there should be no problems." Jerimiah nodded as the two guards raced to assist in the ongoing troubles spreading through the museum.

    He was all alone with all of the exhibits and he could work undisturbed for a time. He was about to turn to a display with more ancient writings when another exhibit area with no lights on and a sign that read, Petrakis Private Collection. His curiosity was piqued, regardless of the promise Jerimiah made, he entered the dark room. Luckily he had his mini LED flashlight to help illuminate his way.

    The subtle tour through the museum was quiet and uneventful, the way Cynthia Petrakis liked it. All of her guests were in awe at the artwork displayed. Some were presented from the previous administration but dozens of new works donated by private collectors held the attention of the special guests of Cynthia Petrakis. Much of the interior was reconstructed and restored, but to be a more modern museum, LCD screens of various sizes were added to the hallways, exhibit areas and suspended from the ceilings. Most were deactivated but some of the monitors were active showing maps, displayed upcoming events, and showed historical information for specific exhibits. It was truly a technological marvel.

    "We will add more interactive touch screens in the common areas. People will be able to request information as well as sign up for special events. I want to fuse the old world with the ever changing new and modern world," Madame Petrakis declared as they stopped by one of the main stairs on the second floor giving access to the main floors of the Metropolitan. She smiled widely at her guests as she gestured to the monitors and saw a hand belonging to Samantha Reid go up. She acknowledged it.

    "Would this be an attempt to attract a younger crowd to visit the museum and get them more involved in the culture of which you have displayed here?"

    "Actually, it never really occurred to me. But that is a good angle. I think young people should spend some time in a museum and look at life beyond their smartphone and video games." She turned to the crowd. "I refuse to create a museum app so they can sit down and virtually tour the museum."

    Some people chuckled at Cynthia's remark. Many marveled at the improvements she had made in the museum. In a shared feeling, everyone was astounded at how Madame Petrakis had taken a great institution and turned it into a grand place. Still the tour was half way done. They walked to the second floor private lounge where she allowed people to sit on the plush leather cushion chairs. Inside the lounge, the walls were lined with screens showing a panoramic view of the museum, interior and exterior. The guests of the party watched a short documentary of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. With Madame Petrakis' permission, security officers released their camera equipment to Samantha and her Channel 6 crew, setting up to film the reaction of the guests as they viewed the program. Once the documentary was shown, Cynthia left her guests to converse with the security guards who were not in the lounge but standing at the balcony overlooking the main hall.

    "I am hoping they are not speaking of any problems," the voice in her mind said with unease.

    Looking at the posture of the guards and Cynthia's supernatural hearing picking noise from main hall below the balcony, she frowned. "There is," responding to the voice. "So much for a quiet night."

    Cynthia walked over to the guards at the balcony; two of them were staring down at the small riot that has broken out in the main hall. The other two guards were on their radios attempting to understand all of the chatter.

    "Give me the bad news gentleman," she said as she approached. The guard with white hair and a beard named Marvin turned to Cynthia Petrakis.

    "Ma'am it is not good. From what we have been able to gather, the guards at the front door let the people standing outside into the museum. Some of them spread out through the museum into the exhibits and other areas. There looks to be a few fights have broken out. Our guys and the NYPD handled them."

    "The good news," an African American guard named Winston added. "We have no reports of damage or theft. Unfortunately, from what we are getting from our central control office, our security system has been compromised. We will have to conduct a visual inspection of each exhibit to ascertain their conditions."

    Deep within Cynthia Petrakis, an angry feeling was slowly boiling to the surface. The emotion seeped through her skin like poison. All four guards noticed the change in her demeanor and uncharacteristically froze in their places. The voice in her head screamed an alarm. "Careful! We don't want to show everyone your other face!" Noticing her incisors were sharpening in her mouth and her nails were stinging with pain, she closed her eyes briefly, as in prayer and let out a deep breath.

    "Alright, this is truly a night to remember." She focused on the guards. "William and Joanna, you will accompany me downstairs to get some type of control of this circumstance. Winston, you and Marvin keep our guests in the lounge until I return with news of our triumph." She smiled and the guards could not help but to laugh. Despite the calamity broke out in the main hall, there was no need for further tension, unless it was called for.

    The female guard named Joanna stepped to Cynthia's side, flanked by William. Winston approached Cynthia. "What do we tell your guests?"

    Cynthia poked out her bottom lip slightly to think. "The truth. An emergency has broken out in the main hall and I went to deal with it. Use the monitors to show video clips from the Petrakis Foundation." The tall dark African American man looked puzzled. "Just play host until I come back. I will not be long."

    "Hopefully," the voice said in a whisper. Cynthia agreed and then signaled for the guards to follow and they left to go downstairs to the Main Hall.

    Marvin looked at Winston and smiled. "You get to make the announcement and play press secretary." The ribbing comes as they were about to walk into the Lounge.

    "It's all good man, just one more thing to add to the resume and another to ask additional pay for." Winston grinned back into Marvin's face in reply.

    "If we all have jobs after this. This looks big. I don't know who could have perpetrated all of this. I hope it was not one of us."

    "Well," Marvin started. "The good Madame Petrakis will get to the bottom of this for sure. Let's deal with the guests for now." The two guards entered the room as the guests just finished watching the previous video on the large panoramic screens. All of them turned to Winston and Marvin as they signaled with their hands for their attention.

    "Everyone, Madame Petrakis has asked you to remain in the lounge and enjoy some refreshments as she went to attend a slight matter in the Main Hall," Winston explained. Just as he finished his first statement, the noise of the ruckus on the first floor entered the room. Some of the people began to murmur and ask questions among themselves. Winston quieted the guests down and continued.

    "For safety reasons, Madame Petrakis would like for you to remain here as she, our security and the NYPD sort this issue out. It appeared that some of the people outside of the museum made their way in the museum-"

    "Obviously attracted to the good food being served to you all!" Marvin interjected. The people laughed as Winston threw a look to Marvin that read simply, "Thank you." The people seemed to be more relaxed and calm.

    Winston continued. "We will be serving coffee, tea and bottled water. While you quench your thirst, I will show you another video of the exploits of the Petrakis Foundation." Servers appeared and started serving the guests. Most people took coffee but a few took water or even tea as their choice. No one else challenged Winston or Marvin with questions as outbursts could be heard from downstairs. Instead they settled in and waited for the next video to be displayed. Estelle, Raphael and Samantha looked at each other as the museum waiter passed by with a tray with drinks and each took their preference.

    "I wonder what is going on downstairs in which we can get an angle on," Estelle pondered as she took a sip of her black coffee.

    "The only angle I am interested in is providing Cynthia Petrakis a platform to speak about tonight's activities, good, bad or indifferent. If we try to spin this any other way, she won't look as favorable on us or Channel 6 ever again." Samantha sipped her warm tea while looking directly into Estelle's eyes. "We try any cheap shots and we all may wake up with hurt asses."

    Raphael gulped his bottled water down and nodded in agreement. "At the very least we won't be eating good food anymore. I won't be going back to canned food again." The three nodded their heads, even though Estelle relented in agreeing with them. The room dimmed and another program on the history of the Petrakis Foundation began.

    Everyone watched in fascination except for Abraham Cromwell who quickly texted on his smart device:

    Cromwell: The job goes well. You should have what you want in no time.

    Ja'Meela: Good.

    Cromwell settled into his seat and smiled.

    Jerimiah walked into the darkened exhibit half expecting some booby trap to be triggered. From the shine of his light, he saw many objects still in creates, settled on display tables and placed about on the floor. Many crates were still sealed but three of them were opened. Inside each of them were various objects: swords, daggers, shields, helmets, armor, spear tips and an assortment of weapons. The archaeologist marveled at how well the ancient weapons were preserved. Looking at them with care and scrutiny he noticed the weapons were more than preserved but brand new. "They looked like as if they were crafted recently." Jerimiah thought to himself.

    More puzzling, each weapon and armament were from different time periods, different cultures from around the world. Impossible for some of these cultures to have any contact with each other, but items from Greek, African, and Asian societies were all in on collection. Perhaps Cynthia Petrakis acquired each of the items from various markets.

    At the four corners of the room stood twelve foot statues, all different designs and carvings. Each one, the shape of some sort of a living creature all were facing the middle of the room, as if to guard the other treasures within. A shiver ran up and down Jerimiah's spine. He felt as if he was being scrutinized from the four giant statues. One statue that caught his eye was the one that looked the most human. Its face was carved to look like an old man with sad eyes. The light revealed as much when Jerimiah shinned it up to its face. The eyes, with no pupils, seem to be staring at him. No that was impossible, he thought. But he was trapped in a staring contest with a statue. Its eyes flashed a warning: Do not attempt to steal anything from this room!

    "Don't worry my friend. Madame Petrakis wanted me to make sure no one stole anything that did not rightfully belong to them. I promise not to disturb or take anything. In fact," he paused and stepped closer. "I am trying to prevent the robbery of these precious objects."

    The feeling of observation and apprehension slowly ebbed away and then emptiness. As if the feeling understood Jerimiah and accepted his presence.

    "Great, I am talking to statues again. Wait until Samantha hears about this. She won't let me live it down." Smiling to himself, Jerimiah continued his walk-through of the items in the room.

    Sitting on a carved piece of marble in the center of the room, between the four colossal statues, was a medium sized bronze chest that bared neither markings nor even a locking mechanism. This chest was used for quick access storage, not to hide or guard valuables, Jerimiah surmised. Upon further examination, there were notches cut into the short sides of the chest, indicating a larger latching device was used to secure the top to prevent entry or even to secure it for transport. As Jerimiah made note of his findings, he heard the fast paced footsteps of someone approaching. An instinct deep within his being told him to hide and he immediately took refuge behind the statue he was holding a brief conversation with. He turned off his tablet and waited.

    Samsone Zee made his way into the dark exhibit, knowing he should have waited with the others to make their escape. With the guards combing each area searching for additional intruders from the crowd surge, it was just a matter of time until they were caught. He knew this but since he was a young thief, he thought to steal something for himself and fence it to increase his cut of this job, which was not as much as he like it to be. He hated being treated like a child. Experienced or not, Marco was the current thorn in his side. If worse came to worse, he could slip out another exit and be gone before anyone could catch him.

    As he pondered his new plan, the exhibit's lights slowly came on and illuminated the room. Samsone took notice that the exhibit was under construction and transportation crates opened. He took a quick peek in them to see weapons from different time periods of a variety of sizes. Although they were interesting, sneaking them out would be rather difficult. Samsone returned his attention to the bronze chest and taking note there was no lock as he reached for it.

    "What do you think you are doing?" A hand grabbed Samsone's shoulder as he whirled around to see the angry face of Marco. His other comrades in thievery joined them in the unfinished exhibit. All of their faces were the same as Marco's.

    "Relax man," Samsone said attempting with no success to release the clamped hand on his shoulder. "I just wanted a souvenir from this caper. Besides, this is the best place to hide for the moment as the guards continue to search the place."

    Marco looked over to Lian who was listening to her radio. "He is right. Most of the guards are on the second and third floors. However, the police are on the scene and have most of the crowd under control." She paused and then looked at Marco. "Madame Petrakis is on the scene as well."

    The color drained from her face. Lian did not want to confront her former employer for any reason. If she got out of this, she would run as far away as her money could take her. She remembered briefly being interviewed for the security position and meeting Madame Petrakis. Her warm smile and trusting nature would not be present if she was to know the guard she hired betrayed her in such a way. She did not relish the idea and threw Samsone Zee a look that could kill.

    "All right, we move on your say so," Marco declared looking over to Demetrius and Robert. They both nodded. "Lian, how soon until we can move?"

    "Three minutes. But due to lock down procedure and the police presence, we cannot go out the side door. We have to get caught by the museum patrols and be escorted out. Hopefully, they won't search us or the bag but if they do…" Her voice trailed off.

    "That won't be a problem," Marco gestured with his right hand, releasing Samsone, Detmetrius, Robert and Marco began to take their coats off. Each of them had a plastic vest strapped to their backs and immediately filled the vests with the documents they stole from the Greek exhibit. Once filled, they would replace their jackets and dump the bag with their tools in the trash receptacle on their way out the museum.

    "Well, while you three are stowing away the goods, I will be checking that handsome gold chest sitting on this rock over here," Samsone announced as he walked over to the bronze chest.

    Exasperated with the boy, Marco said firmly. "Kid, you don't know a damn thing! It is bronze sitting on top of high grade carved marble!"

    "Whatever, as long as it is worth something." Marco shook his head at this young thief who drew stares from Robert and Demetrius. Looking at Marco and sharing the same thought, Samsone will be departing this group when the opportunity presents itself.

    Jerimiah stood in the shadow of the stone golem carefully considering his next move. It is by blind luck he spotted thieves attempting to lift some artifacts from Madame Petrakis' collection. To his estimation, they could be the ones who have perpetrated the previous robberies around the nation. The guard's involvement made sense, to pull this crime off they would need an inside person. Tonight would be the perfect night to pull off this heist, Jerimiah thought to himself. Security focused on the guests inside, securing the grounds outside, spread thin throughout the museum. He cursed himself for not getting this information to Madame Petrakis sooner. His exasperation, though muted from his point of view, accidentally spilled from his lips. The sound attracted Samsone.
 
    "Did you guys hear something?" he asked as he stopped just before going to the bronze chest. He walked over to one of the giant stone statues, the one Jerimiah was standing behind, and peered behind it. Jerimiah was looking straight in to the eyes of the young boy. Jerimiah smelled his bad aftershave and took note of his crazy hair style.

    Samsone stared into the dark area for moment. He heard nothing, saw nothing and smelled nothing.

    "I guess it was nothing," he relented and went back to his focus.
 
    "Keep it to together kid," Robert said as he finished storing away his portion of the parchments they lifted earlier. "We are out of here in two minutes."
 
    "Don't sweat it my man," Samsone replied as he slipped on some gloves and opened the chest. "Jackpot!"
 
    Out of curiosity, Marco, Lian Robert and Demetrius rushed to see what the excitement was about. All of them were looking at several dozen metallic amulets with crystal ornaments adorning the peculiar shape. Some the crystals on the amulets were the size of grapes. They could not tell what type of gem stones they were; all of them were priceless. Each amulet was made of different metals: silver, gold, platinum, bronze, iron and others that were not easily recognized. Some had straps made of leather, others attached to chains of the same metal. All of them, as far as they could see, had etchings of different languages. Another odd occurrence, at the moment from when the chest opened, there was a brief flash of light and then it dimmed. From a quick examination, there were no other light sources available. How did that light show occur? Hardly worth solving this mystery as all of them were taken by the sheer priceless value of each artifact contained in the chest.
 
    "Focus everyone," Marco uttered as even he was taken aback by the sight of these amulets. Even he wanted to take them but every second they delayed will put them at the risk of being caught by the museum guards or the police.
 
    Jerimiah started breathing again the moment Samsone walked away. How did he not sense he was there in the shadow? Jerimiah wondered but was thankful for not being discovered. He looked up at the statue and concluded that there is some sort of presence in this guardian. At another time he could investigate this guardian further. He was absolutely sure he would sit for an interview, but getting him to reveal his secret would take more than just tea and crumpets.

CHAPTER 2
Party Crashers

    On the corner of Fifth Avenue and 82ND Street, a tall light skinned African woman with long, micro-braided hair sat in an old, two-door black corvette, looking at the museum in her rear view mirror. She was careful to park far enough away from the traffic and police presence to have a clear sighting of the crowds and of the situation she oversaw. An hour ago she saw the limousine delivering Madame Petrakis to the front steps and several minutes later the escorted broadcast team Channel 6 into the museum. She also escorted another man into the museum, who the woman knew from the live broadcasts. A smile came across her full lips as she knew all the pieces were in place. The announcement about the foundation was concluded with applause, light dinner and then a tour of the newly refurbished Metropolitan. Thus far her inside man was in position at the party, the thieves in gathered among the patrons outside and the museum guard she paid off was awaiting orders from her. A buzzing from her smartphone prompted her immediate attention. After disabling her security lock, she read an incoming text message:

    Sender: All is ready, now is the time to go.

    The woman pressed a button on her phone to allow her speech to become text.

    "Have you confirmed that Petrakis has her collection on exhibit?" She pressed send.
   
    Thirty seconds later she got a reply:

    Sender: Yes. Have your people focus on the artifacts I specified and the evening will be complete.

    Her reply, "Will do." As she put down her phone, a uniformed officer stepped to her window and tapped on the driver-side window, indicating for her to roll it down.

    "Miss, you can't be parked here. You will have to move your vehicle," the officer ordered.

    Slowly, she reached into her bag on the opposite seat and presented the officer with a wallet without saying a word. The young officer took the wallet and opened it. His posture changed immediately. "I am sorry Captain Williams. I didn't know you were one of us."

    The woman, identified as Captain Janet Williams of the New York Police Department, took back her wallet without turning to the young officer, who was now standing at attention. "How is the event going? No incidents, to report Officer Ramirez?" she asked noting his name badge on his jacket uniform.

    "No ma'am! We have traffic moving smoothly as you can see behind you and people outside here are behaving. Most of the news vans left and I imagine when the party is over in the museum, we will direct the guests out from the car port into traffic-"

    "That is good officer, thank you." She held up a hand to silence him. She opened the car door and stepped out. This woman easily towered over the uniformed officer as he was looking up into the face. She stood six feet, two inches tall and her long micro braids pulled into a pony tail. Even in the flat boots she was wearing, she was imposing and somewhat intimidating. Officer Ramirez only stood five foot, eight inches. Her black short light trench coat was pulled snuggly around her curvaceous frame. Noticing she was under intense observation, she brought the officer's attention back to the museum.

    "Who is the detective in charge of this detail?" Captain Williams asked, motioning with her well-manicured hands.

    "Detective Lieutenant Dylan Brenson from the Robbery Division, 19TH Precinct. He is working with the Central Park and 20TH Precincts for this security detail for the Metropolitan."

    Satisfied with the information the officer has given she looked into his eyes with hers opened wide. He stared blankly into large white orbs that were the woman's eyes and lost his train of thought. Captain Williams placed Officer Ramirez into a brief hypnotic trance and spoke softly. "Officer Ramirez, you will remember nothing of me or of this conversation. You asked the occupant of the vehicle to move on and she did. When the car drives away, you will go back to your fellow officers and continue with your duties for this event."

    "Yes ma'am," answered the bewildered officer. Satisfied that her suggestion took hold, Captain Williams scanned the crowd outside the museum and saw four individuals that caught her attention. She recognized them and was satisfied they were waiting for their opportunity to move in when she gave the word to do so. Her eyes immediately returned to their normal light brown eye color and she let out a short exhale. Officer Ramirez turned slowly back to the captain as she entered her corvette. The tall woman buckled her seat belt and turned over the car.

    "Yes officer, I will move immediately. Have a good night." She put the car in gear and drove off down East 82ND street.

    Officer Ramirez stood in the street for a few seconds before coming out of his trance. He blinked a few times as if he was distracted or waking up from a dream. He remembered he was speaking to a woman and then she moved her car. Thinking nothing more about it, Officer Ramirez walked back to the museum and to the police command truck parked down the block from the front of the Metropolitan.

    Detective Dylan Brenson stood in his beige overcoat inside of the Police Command Truck listening to the officers in charge of the scene at the museum report on the situation. After hearing from the last sergeant, he spoke to the officers. "Gentlemen, it seems whatever situations we were expecting won't manifest this evening. The crowd has been quiet, the guests are not as unruly as we thought and we don't have to worry about any other problems, just the guests leaving from the museum. It looks like we will be done by 11:00PM the latest."

    The officers clapped and cheered. Although many of them were happy to see the museum open on a personal level, crowd control duty was the least favorite in a police officer's career. Still, this particular assignment no one minded, especially in anticipation of what was coming.

    "Now guys," the detective started with his hands raised to quiet the group. "Madame Petrakis has thanked us for our help in keeping the outside security and traffic manageable. No doubt she has made several sizable donations to charities here in New York City, but she took it a step further. She is going to feed us as well."

    Everyone was silent for a moment considering regulations and policies of the police department, not to mention the ethics involved. Then, as if everyone was connected telepathically, everyone smiled and shared an elated sense of joy. From a side entrance of the museum, six caterers walked out toward the main Police Command Truck carrying two large white bags in each hand. The lead caterer, a young man with blonde hair, used one free hand and knocked on the outer door. An officer opened the door and received the bags and passed them to another officer inside. The caterers then walked quickly back inside, presumably to finish with the dinner and then start to wind down for the evening.

    The smell of food quickly filled the police command center and everyone's mouth was watering with anticipation. All of the food was unpacked and set on a small table. Detective Brenson was about to start passing out the food and make arrangements for all of the officers to eat in rotating shifts, when another detective working under Brenson pointed out an obvious flaw in the plan.

    "Officers, you are all in possible violation of ethics and procedures. Accepting and eating this food will warrant reprimands and possible suspensions." Detective Gabriel Holmes came from a long line of dedicated police officers for over sixty years, all working for the NYPD. No officer in the Holmes line ever wavered from their sense of duty and could not stand corruption in any other officer they served with. Detective Holmes was respected and generally well liked. In this instance, everyone wished he would look the other way.

    "Detective Holmes, in this scenario, acceptance of food is not a violation of ethics or procedures, merely maintaining the human condition," answered Detective Brenson.

    "I can't see how this is maintaining the human condition unless you are counting bribery and accepting gifts-"

    "No!" Detective Brenson took his partner into the back area of the command space to speak privately. "Look at it this way. Are we not human beings on planet Earth? Do we not need food to live? Well Madame Petrakis is looking after the well-being of the human beings that are looking after her museum. So relax!"

    The young detective thought about it for a moment and realized on that line of thought he was correct. But how he would allow this was beyond him. "I don't think I can take part of this, maybe I should go outside and watch the crowds or direct traffic."

    "Nonsense, we all worked hard and deserve dinner. If officers are not focused or are concerned at finding something to eat, it makes for problems. If we all eat together, we can still maintain our perimeter and not have to worry where is officer so-and-so to report back to their posts. Besides," Detective Brenson held out his hand and an officer placed an aluminum container in his hand. He smiled and handed the container to his partner. "I made sure they had a vegetarian dinner for you."

    He took off the plastic cover to reveal a spinach vegetable wrap with Italian dressing in small plastic cups. The young detective inhaled the aroma of the sandwich wrap and a small smile crossed his lips. "You planned this, didn't you?"

    Detective Brenson smiled. "You know I am good with details and I know my partner. Just don't let this bother your conscience much."

    Between the vegetable wrap he was holding and the honor of his family, Detective Holmes wondered what to do. Part of him felt as if he was being manipulated but he knew his partner was right. He started to eat the wrap and was surprised it was so good. All the vegetables had the taste and texture of just being freshly picked from a garden. He admired it and his stomach thanked him. Swallowing a mouthful of vegetables he looked at Detective Brenson. "I hate it when you are right. I guess we can accept this humanitarian aid as a gesture for the officers who worked so hard this evening."

    "Glad to hear it, eat up, I will go and coordinate the dinner schedule," Detective Brenson left Detective Holmes to eat his dinner in peace as he returned to the small table where the food sat and began to work out a schedule for the officers to go on dinner break. Knowing the number of officers still on duty and the general time for the event to be over, Detective Brenson ordered all officers a half hour break but staggered them in fifteen minute intervals. No officer would be permitted to leave the site and had to check in for dinner. Many were permitted to sit in the patrol cars or the command center to eat in some form of privacy. He also knew that if any situations were to rear its ugly head, all officers will be ready to respond with the dignity and training they have all come to know.

    "I hope that will not be the case tonight," Detective Brenson said to himself.

    As the evening wore on, many of the spectators gathered outside went home after spending most of the evening getting pictures of their favorite celebrities but also waiting for the off chance of mingling inside the Metropolitan. Rumors started to circulate through the crowd that the gracious hostess Madame Petrakis will allow some of the patrons into the museum. It was highly unlikely due to the presence of so many private security guards watching the Metropolitan inside and out. They made their patrols around the museum but most were focused on the front door, seeing that no uninvited guests would attempt to breach the security.

    One of the various patrols, a three-person team, came to the front door to check on the status of the guard duty. The guards were easily identifiable: all wore dark blue jackets, black pants, gray shirts and white ties. Although they would be on-duty security for the museum, they were detached from the private security firm Madame Petrakis owned. She funded their additional training to work at the Metropolitan. Employing people from all over the world from the local areas, they were the best trained individuals money can buy. Nothing would spoil the event inside the museum and no one outside would be able to bypass these guards for any reason. Museum guards escorted the caterers back in to the side entrance of the Metropolitan, as patrols outside continued to monitor grounds and crowds of people.

    This behavior was under the notice of four men who blended into the crowd waiting for their opportunity to enter the Metropolitan. A tall, Greek, bald man noticed the security and made mental notes of their actions, his watchful green eyes catching every detail of the patrols. "Damn. Patrols are too tight for us to find an alternate route in. I would not try it even if we are getting paid good money." The bald man, who called himself Demetrius Stone, rubbed his smooth head as he leaned closer to the leader of the group.

    "I told you not to worry," Marco Ortega from Spain said with ease as he looked at his tablet, scrolling through data for the upcoming operation. He scratched his goatee as he puzzled over the items on his list to procure. "Once we get the signal, we walk in, make our pickup, change and walk out with no problems."

    He looked at Demetrius with a grin. "This is the easiest job we have ever taken. So easy in fact we should have done this for free. But I am glad the money will change my mind about it."

    A young Chinese man in his twenties leaned in on a conversation he was not originally a part of. "One or two of us should be carrying just in case we need to make an impromptu escape. I don't like going into a situation without some protection or insurance…if you get my drift." Samsone Zee was the only one who felt this way in the means of establishing a more violent solution to the job they were on.

    "How many times do I and the rest of us need to keep telling you? We are not killers. We will use guns if the situation calls for it. And here in the states if you are caught with firearms while on a robbery," Marco said lowering his voice as he looked around. No one was paying his group any attention and he then continued. "Look kid, so far you have been on a couple of jobs with us, made some good money and nothing happened. We enjoy our money and freedom, our employer enjoys our plunder. Ours is a good outfit to be in and we don't have anyone looking for us in terms of police. So if you are so anxious to use guns and to shoot it out with the police, there are tons of gangs for that type of stuff."

    Samsone met the hard gaze from Marco for a few seconds and then backed down. If it were not for his ability for lock picking and computer hacking, Marco would not mind seeing the young hot head in police custody or better yet, at the bottom of a ravine somewhere isolated. His time may come, but until then he could keep his place which would be quiet and out of the way.

    The fourth man of the group, Robert Frankz, a German man experienced in concealment and extraction of guarded items, kept a casual focus on the main doors and the guard who will allow them access to their objective. His blue eyes made visual contact several times and each time she shook her head.

"We still have no word from Lian," Robert said with a slight German accent. "Do you think the job may be canceled?"

    Marco put away his tablet. "I hope not. This is the opportune time to get the items for our employer. Waiting for a later opportunity will put our job at risk. This is it. We just have to wait."

    Robert nodded his head and went back to observing the security guard as she spoke to additional museum guards who approached. Several feet from the main door, he could hear what was being discussed; he discerned that it was their normal operations for the security detail for the night's gala. He casually monitored but drew not attention to himself or to his group as they waited for her signal.

    "Everything calm here Lian?" asked the outside security patrolman as he approached the Chinese security woman. Her thick black hair was pulled into a short ponytail save for a few locks that caressed her face. Among the staff, no one could ever guess her age. Many thought she was barely eighteen; a few mean spirited comments drew an age closer to retirement and she only darkened her hair. Despite all the observations, Lian Zhou Zhu was only twenty-five years of age and had accomplished much since working for the Petrakis security firm. She made the status of lieutenant in charge of operations, which meant she was close to command structure of the firm as well had chance encounters with the owner and operator, Madame Cynthia Petrakis. She enjoyed the privilege of being in charge and trusted for this detail in the museum. Lian was indeed proud of her status and even more so, proud that no watchful eyes would be pointed in her direction.

    "All is well out here," she spoke with clear a New York accent. "Several people pleaded with me for information or to even let them in for a few minutes but I turned them down."

    The security patrolman, Shawn Greene, asked, "So how much were they offering?"

    "Peanuts and pitons. I told a few of them to go the nearest ATM and make a large withdrawal and then I would seriously consider it." The six guards laughed quietly. All of them admired the young woman as she was known to be above reproach. Other security details would have let a few people sneak in. Patrolman Greene looked at the two guards with him and signaled with his hand to move out and continued their patrol. The other guards with Lian moved back to their posts and continued their watch over the slowly thinning crowd. The eyes of the German man caught her attention. For a few seconds they locked stares and then with a negative nod, Lian indicated the time was not right and they would still have to wait. Robert nodded and turned back to his comrades as they waited for the signal from their accomplice.

    Three blocks away, the tall black woman calling herself Williams maneuvered her corvette into a semi-deserted side street and turned off her car. She pulled out her phone and was about to send a message to her internal contact at the museum gala when the phone buzzed in her hand. She looked at the caller identification and her eyes widened.

    "I thought you would still be in your isolation chamber recuperating or better still preparing for your great mission," she answered the caller.

    With a tired raspy female voice, the caller spoke to her comment. "I would have been meditating and even sleeping until I had this notion you have used your powers. I remember forbidding you from doing so without my permission or if it is important to do so."

    "It was. I didn't want my cover to be remembered or connected with our little enterprise," she explained. "Besides, I wanted to test my powers of persuasion in the real world, not on some test subjects we find at random."

    A silence fell over them for a short while and then the voice spoke again. "I do not want anything to jeopardize this venture, my dear Ja'Meela. We are close to implementing the next phase of my plan. I will tolerate no failure if we can secure the museum pieces this Petrakis woman has on display."

    "I have been in touch with Cromwell and when he confirms the items are on the premises, I will instruct our agents to move. Before the end of the night I will have in my possession the items you require."

    "I don't doubt it my dear Ja'Meela. Proceed and we will speak soon." The caller ended the conversation and left the woman (who identified herself as Captain Williams also was known as Ja'Meela) to sit in silence. She is the majordomo to a very powerful woman who uses her vast wealth to achieve any goal, obtain any items with any persons who are valuable enough to achieve them, but easy enough to dispose of. In Ja'Meela's case, she is a great asset to her employer but also knows utter failure will make her very expendable. In all of the years she has served her, Ja'Meela and failure rarely met face to face. This was on her mind as she sent a text to Abraham Cromwell. Cleverly planted into the museum by being a restorer of art, he was able to easily identify the artifacts for Ja'Meela's mistress. All that was needed was a text or phone call from the art restorer so they could get this job over and done with. Ja'Meela drove her corvette several blocks away to a pre-designated drop off point where, if all went well, her men would do the job and this night would be put behind them so she and her mistress could get on with the other plans. Monumental, as Ja'Meela thought to herself.

    The information Ja'Meela waited for came via instant message texts:

    Cromwell: Our tour has started and Cynthia Petrakis is keeping a watchful eye over her guests, along with her security guards.

    Ja'Meela: Are the guards well dispersed for our entrance?

    Cromwell: Yes. Two guards escorted an archaeologist on a private tour, a number of them are on tour with Petrakis and the rest are on patrol outside of the museum.

    Ja'Meela: Have you identified the objects we have requested?

    Cromwell: Yes, we have left the Greek exhibit and all of the items are here. You can contact your men and have them enter the museum. We are now in the central wing of the museum on the third floor. The Greek exhibit is on the second floor, east wing.

    Ja'Meela: Well done. I will contact them immediately. Your transaction is now concluded.

    A broad smile came across Ja'Meela's face as she sent the text to Security Guard Lian Zhou Zhu to play her role in this caper.

Front Main Entrance of the Metropolitan Museum, New York City, October 15, 2012, 9:30PM

    Lian felt a buzzing in her pocket and she picked up her company issued smart device and read the message displayed on the screen. It read one word, "Commence." In anticipation of what was about to happen and feeling uneasy, Lian thought about her compensation and what she will be able to do with it. She settled into her new role and turned to the two guards with her.

    "Gentleman, please unlock the doors. I just received word Madame Petrakis will allow the people gathered here into the museum for a sneak preview tour."

    The guard named Harris Browne looked at her in question. "What? That is nonsense! In the briefing this morning nobody said anything about letting people in off the street. It will ruin all of the preparations and not to mention put additional stress on our security procedures."

    The second guard, Michael Dale nodded his head in agreement. "Lian are you sure that this is coming from the top. This hardly seems like-"

    "I have orders from Madame Petrakis herself! If you delay in carrying out her instructions, I can guarantee you won't be working for the Petrakis Security firm." With a stern look, Lian stood straight and stared both men down. Eventually, they looked to each other and began to unlock the main doors. Once they unlocked them, they slowly swung them open. Just inside, the caterers were just packing up the dinner course and preparing to serve dessert when they all felt the rush of cool air entered the main hall. All of them traded uncertain looks until they heard one of the guards make a dreaded announcement to the people outside on the steps.

    "Good evening everyone. On behalf of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Madame Cynthia Petrakis, we wish to thank you for your support and invite you in for a late night opening. Please enjoy the food and the museum reopening." She gave a slight bow as she stepped aside with her right arm extended in welcome. At first the people behind the rope barriers did not know what to make of it. And suddenly, as if everyone was waiting for the first brave one to cross the barriers, several people unhinged the ropes and walked up the steps. A collected cheer rang out as people made their way into the museum.

    The four men, waiting for the signal, turned their attention to surging crowd spectators rushing through the doors of the museum. Samsone Zee made an observation as he watched the people make their way into the museum. "I have never seen so many folks rush into a museum. The only way you would get me or some of my friends into a place like this, they would have to be giving away free food."

    "Lian did say there is free food being offered, perhaps you could go a grab a quick bite while we are in there," Marco remarked as he began walking with the crowd.

    "Could we, I am starved!" Samsone drew angry stares from Marco, Robert and Demetrius and then realized he needed to stay focused.

    All four men walked deep into the crowd as to lose themselves before the police would take notice of the sudden change in plans. Robert opened the bag and had his hands inside it. Luckily, the crowd infiltrated the museum and occupied the front hall, the first floor and was moving up to the second floor. The two museum guards stationed at the front door with Lian were cut off and on the inside being pushed into the museum. Lian pushed herself away from the crowd behind the columns in front of the museum. She quickly stripped off her jacket, shirt and tie. Robert reached her and handed her a light green jacket, brown colored wig and plain glasses to disguise herself as she entered the museum.

    Some of the spectators approached the catering tables demanding food. None of the catering chefs would serve the people and as a result, arguments and fights began. The noise began to draw attention as well as the few guards from the front door. Immediately they began to call out to the other guards and attempted to calm the situation down. What turned out to be a beautiful night of gala and art was now turning into mild chaos. Marco and his cohorts slipped deeper into the museum on their way to commit a robbery of the predetermined artifacts.

    Detective Brenson and the officers on security detail for the Metropolitan had just finished their dinner, graciously provided by Madame Petrakis, and had brief meeting to discuss the wind down procedures for the night.

    "All right everyone, I imagine everything will be over in about another hour and New York City can get back to its normal dull roar. Now all we have to do is coordinate the departure of the guests with the museum security and we can clock out for the night," Detective Brenson was conveying the feeling to his officers when Detective Holmes burst into the mobile command truck breathing heavily.

    "Lieutenant?! Are you aware that people are entering the museum? I thought this was a closed event. Everyone is going in and from what I hear, the guards let them in!" The officers in the command center were instantly on their feet and many of them dashed out of the door heading to the museum entrance.

    Detectives Brenson and Holmes made their way through the crowd and into to the main hall of the Metropolitan, looking for any of the museum guards. They found three running up to meet them.

    "Gentleman, please tell me this an impromptu publicity stunt that the esteemed Madame Petrakis ordered at the last minute," asked Detective Brenson, already knowing the answer.

    One museum guard was attempting to communicate with the security office over the walkie-talkie while the museum guard grimly shook his head. "Negative. All I know is someone at the front door open the doors and let the people in." He looked around in abject horror as to try to figure out where to start.

    "Call all of your guards in to clear the hall and then we can sweep the museum for any who have wondered off," Detective Holmes directed while calling into his walkie-talkie ordering other officers into action. The entire main hall was filled with noise, excitement and chaos from the incoming crowd of spectators. Officers and guards began ushering people out of the museum. Some spectators protested, were arrested and taken out to waiting police cruisers. Most of the crowd dispersed into the museum halls and exhibits away from the main hall. Guards worked their way through the first floor where as many as fifty persons spread deeper into the Metropolitan. After a few minutes, Detectives Brenson and Holmes with four Metropolitan guards gathered near the catering tables and sat to discuss the events leading to the chaos.

    "It seems one of our people, Lian Zhou Zhu, has opened the doors and allowed the crowd in. No one authorized this and we are looking for her," one the guards stated. Two more guards joined the impromptu conference at the catering tables.

    "Sir, Lian told us to let the people in and it was an order from the Madame Petrakis. When the crowd entered we lost sight of her, we don't know where she is." Metropolitan Security Guard Harris Browne recounted the events leading up to the chaos. All eyes were on him and his partner Michael Dale. Blame was going to be placed but now was not the time. Detective Brenson stood up.

    "Okay, here is the plan. Our officers will continue to move the people out of the museum and secure grounds outside. We will carry the more outspoken party crashers down to the precinct." He turned to the Metropolitan guards and spoke to them. "I want you and your men go through the museum round up the rest of the uninvited and escort them out. Has anyone contacted Madame Petrakis?"

    "We called her group and they are moving the guests to the second floor lounge." reported the guard.

    From atop the balcony overlook, Madame Petrakis looked down on the noise of the crowd with a look that either meant disgust, anger or bewilderment. Detective Brenson could not tell which but it was obvious she did not like what she was seeing.

    "Let's get this under control immediately!" Detective Brenson motioned for everyone to get to their assignments and to get this turmoil out of the Metropolitan.

    A clever distraction, Marco thought to himself as he and his cohorts broke away from the main crowd heading straight for the Greek and Roman Art exhibit which was in the eastern most area on the second floor. With all the people in the area, slipping away was the easiest part of the night. Getting the items from their displays and slipping out would be the challenge. Marco kept it on his mind but did not let it worry him too much. Looking at his tablet, he brought up the list of items to be acquired and in the sections in which they are located. Lian was useful in maneuvering the group into passage ways and corners to make them undetectable during the erratic sweep of the Metropolitan guards. She knew, from her training and briefings of standard operating procedures, they only have several minutes before all of the guards are called in to do an intensive sweep of the museum.

    Lian silently regretted taking this particular job but the money was too good to pass up. The she will earn, Lian can finally relocate on the west coast to be with the man she long desired to call husband. Circumstances and other obligations kept her in New York City longer than she planned. If this job is pulled off successfully, she can be long gone before the police or Cynthia Petrakis would be able to catch up to her.

    She looked along the wall to a security junction box. Alarm and camera circuits ran through this connection and it was here the robbery would be made possible. Using her security keys, she opened the box, tapped a four-digit security code, and the system indicator went from red to green. Samsone came up behind her and worked on disconnecting the cables that connected the alarm and surveillance cameras. Once he disconnected them, he attached a device to the side of the box and plugged the various cables into it. The device indicator displayed a complex computer code and then went black. A red light on the top of the device started to blink.

    "Good, the cameras and security systems are being scrambled," the young boy said as he smiled in Lian's face, hoping to get some favor from her. She simply nodded her head and closed the panel, ignoring Samsone's gawking expression. She gave thumbs up to Marco and the group moved on.

    The five thieves entered the exhibit area designated Ancient Documentation where dozens of Greek and Latin documents written on parchment hung on walls and placed in display cases sealed in plastic. Robert produced a large portfolio and a brief case for placing non-parchment items, that we also on the list. Marco pointed to the first case where it held Greek writings of the ancient spell casting, according to the display placard. Samsone went up to a display case and quickly looked it over as Demetrius Stone produced a set of lock picking tools. Samsone smiled as he went to his pocket and produced two circuit boards with small alligator clips attached to each.

    "Alright kid, try this out on this case first before we open the others," Marco ordered.

    "No problem. If this works, my little gadget will loop the alarm signal so it will not go off. But it is temporary. Open the case, take the item, close it and disconnect the circuit boards. Simple." Samsone was pleased with himself and also showing off to the others that he was not just a kid who didn't know what he was doing. He attached the circuit-enablers, he called them, to the metal side of the display case. Demetrius picked the lock and opened the case quickly. No alarm sounded. Everyone drew a deep breath and exhaled. It worked! Demetrius grabbed the four documents on display and Samsone disconnected them.

    "As I said, simple!" He tossed a pair of the small boards to Marco as he and Robert went to work on another case as Samsone and Demetrius started working on the next case.

    Lian, still dressed in her disguise, kept watch and monitored the radio conversations of her soon to be former co-workers, making sure to keep the audio low. She looked back and the four men doing their work. Within five minutes, they have already cleared three display cases moving with precision. In Lian's view, they were moving to slow for her. Additional chatter could be heard over the frequencies as Samsone's device was wreaking havoc on the security systems of the museum. The security guards were changing their strategies. Time was running out.

    "Why don't you smash the cases and we can make a dash for the side exits," she asked in a panicked state.

    Marco walked over to calmly explain their motives. "First my dear, smashing the cases will bring more attention to our little retrieval, thereby bringing the guards and police in sooner. Second, the police will be angry enough that we caused this crowd scene on a night the city needs this museum open. If we start vandalizing and destroying private property, it will tighten the noose around our necks if we can't get away." He paused and looked Lian in the eyes. "Keep it together. It will be a few more minutes and we will be out of here without anyone seeing us. You will be financially set."

    The former female guard relented but then turned her ear to the radio. Museum guards called a code 023, which meant to secure all emergency exits and to start closing off unoccupied areas with steel barrier gates. "We have to move faster! They will be coming this way!"

    "What happened?" asked Marco.

    "They have a procedure in which to either trap or prevent any intruders or trespassers from roaming the museum. They will search this area and then close off each section with these gates." Lian pointed to the suspended steel gates above the entrance ways for the area. Marco frowned but kept his cool.

    "This simply means we cannot duck through the exits as we first planned. We will have to go out through the front door. Guys," he turned to the other three men working to store away the borrowed items. "How much longer? Do we have everything on our shopping list?"

    Robert nodded his head. "We are almost done. We have six more cases and then we can leave."

    "What if they check your portfolio and the storage case when we walk out-"

    "They won't see a thing Lian," Robert replied cutting her off. "We take the originals and slide them inside our portfolio here. If they check it, they will see only posters, not ancient Greek spells and incantations. Besides, they are looking for people and not checking on the exhibits. By the time they do, we are long gone."

    Marco returned to the group and finished opening the displays. Lian remained to keep watch and listen to the radio. From her estimates, they had three more minutes before the guards search the section and then lock it down with the steel gates. "Everyone, let's wrap it up. Robert, Demetrius, start preparing the items for walk out. Samsone, gather up your toys and make sure the displays have no marks of tampering."

    Robert and Demetrius acknowledged Marco. But Samsone was nowhere to be found. "Where is that kid?" Everyone in the room looked around but saw he was gone. Marco got worried and then got angry.

    Several minutes earlier in another part the Metropolitan, the African Art exhibit area, Jerimiah Clarke and two Metropolitan guards walked through the exhibit slowly. The guards escorted the archaeologist through the area as he worked feverishly on his tablet. He pulled up files and documents on the previous museum robberies across the country for the last few months. His research indicated the thieves would steal documentation, amulets and other articles pertaining to areas of mysticism, metaphysical and the ethereal realms. In short magic and how ancient societies would evoke incantations for whatever purpose of the user would deem fit. Ironically, more valuable items made of gold, silver, solid bronze were available for the taking; rare gem stones were also looked over as well. Items such as these would be stolen, sold to private brokers or ransomed for their return. However, the ancient writings that were stolen in other museums were valuable, not in the monetary sense but only to those versed in languages of the era. Many of those writings held deep, hidden message above the visible written text on parchment.

    In the depth of his soul, Jerimiah knew if the ethereal forces were ever unleashed, it would be difficult to control. Only someone who possessed the knowledge of such occurrences can wield the power. For a moment, he wondered if Cynthia Petrakis had the ability or did she just want to display such works for the museums.

    The archaeologist finished his observation of a piece titled, "The Shaman's Dreams" discovered in Ethiopia in the year 1580. Partially translated, the writing documented by an unnamed village shaman indicated his vibrant dreams and the possibility of the existence of the astral realm: a place where the soul can travel outside the human body and can either go forward or backward in time. This would give the shaman intimate knowledge of events past or future to guide his village toward a better life. Archaeologists and other scientists dismissed such writings as fantasy or works of fiction. It could be suggested some of the visions were brought about by hallucinogenic drugs that could conjure up anything the mind wished to see.

    "No way was every ancient civilization was high on drugs," Jerimiah said aloud but to himself. The two guards turned and looked at their charge.

    "What was that you said?" the guard named Tom Teige asked.

    "Sorry, talking to myself." Jerimiah paused and turned to the guards. "Do you guys believe in ethereal and mystical energies in which man has some ability to understand and use?"

    The second guard John Patts, spoke to the inquiry. "You mean like the Force?"

    "Yes," Jerimiah laughed. "Like the Force. There is an energy that is present in all things and every object has their own internal vibration rate."

    "What are you getting at my friend?" asked Tom as he stepped closer to Jerimiah.

    "What if you can harness and even command those dynamisms? Conjure spirits and demons, control the mysterious dark forces? Or even incur God's wrath? Just about every ancient belief system speaks of such forces being wielded and unleashed." Jerimiah noticed both guards were staring at him confused.

    "So, our boss has put magical weapons of mass destruction in front for all of New York to see on a daily basis?" John asked in an uncertain voice.

    Jerimiah felt he was losing the interest of his escorts and then decided to keep the conversation to a minimum. "No, I believe the good lady merely placed these items for education and entertainment. I don't think there is anything to worry about." At times Jerimiah can get carried away with himself and his enthusiasm. However, most people he has met don't share his deep appreciation for the strange, bizarre and unknown forces in the world. He has experienced too many unexplained phenomena only which the ancient ways could offer any explanation.

    Tom was about to mention something about Jerimiah's views, when his radio buzzed with chatter. Undistinguishable from where Jerimiah and John stood, Tom's posture of suggested a serious situation had risen in the museum. Listening intently, Jerimiah heard the noise of people in the main hall.

    "Would that be Madame Petrakis guests getting rowdy on a night like this?"

    "No," Tom answered signaling for John to join him. "It looks like someone opened the front doors and let the people in for a night tour, a code 023. We are going to assist with crowd control. We are going to leave you here and come back for you once this is done. You won't be any trouble will you?"

    "No. But what if I see anything occurring that should not? Jerimiah asked.

    John pointed to a phone on the wall at the entrance of the African exhibit room. "Dial 2 and ask to speak to Daniela Harker, our chief of security. Tell her you were escorted by Tom and John and the nature of the call. She will get help to you if need it."

    Tom turned to Jerimiah before they ran out. "Now stay out of trouble Mr. Clarke. We know where you are so there should be no problems." Jerimiah nodded as the two guards raced to assist in the ongoing troubles spreading through the museum.

    He was all alone with all of the exhibits and he could work undisturbed for a time. He was about to turn to a display with more ancient writings when another exhibit area with no lights on and a sign that read, Petrakis Private Collection. His curiosity was piqued, regardless of the promise Jerimiah made, he entered the dark room. Luckily he had his mini LED flashlight to help illuminate his way.

    The subtle tour through the museum was quiet and uneventful, the way Cynthia Petrakis liked it. All of her guests were in awe at the artwork displayed. Some were presented from the previous administration but dozens of new works donated by private collectors held the attention of the special guests of Cynthia Petrakis. Much of the interior was reconstructed and restored, but to be a more modern museum, LCD screens of various sizes were added to the hallways, exhibit areas and suspended from the ceilings. Most were deactivated but some of the monitors were active showing maps, displayed upcoming events, and showed historical information for specific exhibits. It was truly a technological marvel.

    "We will add more interactive touch screens in the common areas. People will be able to request information as well as sign up for special events. I want to fuse the old world with the ever changing new and modern world," Madame Petrakis declared as they stopped by one of the main stairs on the second floor giving access to the main floors of the Metropolitan. She smiled widely at her guests as she gestured to the monitors and saw a hand belonging to Samantha Reid go up. She acknowledged it.

    "Would this be an attempt to attract a younger crowd to visit the museum and get them more involved in the culture of which you have displayed here?"

    "Actually, it never really occurred to me. But that is a good angle. I think young people should spend some time in a museum and look at life beyond their smartphone and video games." She turned to the crowd. "I refuse to create a museum app so they can sit down and virtually tour the museum."

    Some people chuckled at Cynthia's remark. Many marveled at the improvements she had made in the museum. In a shared feeling, everyone was astounded at how Madame Petrakis had taken a great institution and turned it into a grand place. Still the tour was half way done. They walked to the second floor private lounge where she allowed people to sit on the plush leather cushion chairs. Inside the lounge, the walls were lined with screens showing a panoramic view of the museum, interior and exterior. The guests of the party watched a short documentary of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. With Madame Petrakis' permission, security officers released their camera equipment to Samantha and her Channel 6 crew, setting up to film the reaction of the guests as they viewed the program. Once the documentary was shown, Cynthia left her guests to converse with the security guards who were not in the lounge but standing at the balcony overlooking the main hall.

    "I am hoping they are not speaking of any problems," the voice in her mind said with unease.

    Looking at the posture of the guards and Cynthia's supernatural hearing picking noise from main hall below the balcony, she frowned. "There is," responding to the voice. "So much for a quiet night."

    Cynthia walked over to the guards at the balcony; two of them were staring down at the small riot that has broken out in the main hall. The other two guards were on their radios attempting to understand all of the chatter.

    "Give me the bad news gentleman," she said as she approached. The guard with white hair and a beard named Marvin turned to Cynthia Petrakis.

    "Ma'am it is not good. From what we have been able to gather, the guards at the front door let the people standing outside into the museum. Some of them spread out through the museum into the exhibits and other areas. There looks to be a few fights have broken out. Our guys and the NYPD handled them."

    "The good news," an African American guard named Winston added. "We have no reports of damage or theft. Unfortunately, from what we are getting from our central control office, our security system has been compromised. We will have to conduct a visual inspection of each exhibit to ascertain their conditions."

    Deep within Cynthia Petrakis, an angry feeling was slowly boiling to the surface. The emotion seeped through her skin like poison. All four guards noticed the change in her demeanor and uncharacteristically froze in their places. The voice in her head screamed an alarm. "Careful! We don't want to show everyone your other face!" Noticing her incisors were sharpening in her mouth and her nails were stinging with pain, she closed her eyes briefly, as in prayer and let out a deep breath.

    "Alright, this is truly a night to remember." She focused on the guards. "William and Joanna, you will accompany me downstairs to get some type of control of this circumstance. Winston, you and Marvin keep our guests in the lounge until I return with news of our triumph." She smiled and the guards could not help but to laugh. Despite the calamity broke out in the main hall, there was no need for further tension, unless it was called for.

    The female guard named Joanna stepped to Cynthia's side, flanked by William. Winston approached Cynthia. "What do we tell your guests?"

    Cynthia poked out her bottom lip slightly to think. "The truth. An emergency has broken out in the main hall and I went to deal with it. Use the monitors to show video clips from the Petrakis Foundation." The tall dark African American man looked puzzled. "Just play host until I come back. I will not be long."

    "Hopefully," the voice said in a whisper. Cynthia agreed and then signaled for the guards to follow and they left to go downstairs to the Main Hall.

    Marvin looked at Winston and smiled. "You get to make the announcement and play press secretary." The ribbing comes as they were about to walk into the Lounge.

    "It's all good man, just one more thing to add to the resume and another to ask additional pay for." Winston grinned back into Marvin's face in reply.

    "If we all have jobs after this. This looks big. I don't know who could have perpetrated all of this. I hope it was not one of us."

    "Well," Marvin started. "The good Madame Petrakis will get to the bottom of this for sure. Let's deal with the guests for now." The two guards entered the room as the guests just finished watching the previous video on the large panoramic screens. All of them turned to Winston and Marvin as they signaled with their hands for their attention.

    "Everyone, Madame Petrakis has asked you to remain in the lounge and enjoy some refreshments as she went to attend a slight matter in the Main Hall," Winston explained. Just as he finished his first statement, the noise of the ruckus on the first floor entered the room. Some of the people began to murmur and ask questions among themselves. Winston quieted the guests down and continued.

    "For safety reasons, Madame Petrakis would like for you to remain here as she, our security and the NYPD sort this issue out. It appeared that some of the people outside of the museum made their way in the museum-"

    "Obviously attracted to the good food being served to you all!" Marvin interjected. The people laughed as Winston threw a look to Marvin that read simply, "Thank you." The people seemed to be more relaxed and calm.

    Winston continued. "We will be serving coffee, tea and bottled water. While you quench your thirst, I will show you another video of the exploits of the Petrakis Foundation." Servers appeared and started serving the guests. Most people took coffee but a few took water or even tea as their choice. No one else challenged Winston or Marvin with questions as outbursts could be heard from downstairs. Instead they settled in and waited for the next video to be displayed. Estelle, Raphael and Samantha looked at each other as the museum waiter passed by with a tray with drinks and each took their preference.

    "I wonder what is going on downstairs in which we can get an angle on," Estelle pondered as she took a sip of her black coffee.

    "The only angle I am interested in is providing Cynthia Petrakis a platform to speak about tonight's activities, good, bad or indifferent. If we try to spin this any other way, she won't look as favorable on us or Channel 6 ever again." Samantha sipped her warm tea while looking directly into Estelle's eyes. "We try any cheap shots and we all may wake up with hurt asses."

    Raphael gulped his bottled water down and nodded in agreement. "At the very least we won't be eating good food anymore. I won't be going back to canned food again." The three nodded their heads, even though Estelle relented in agreeing with them. The room dimmed and another program on the history of the Petrakis Foundation began.

    Everyone watched in fascination except for Abraham Cromwell who quickly texted on his smart device:

    Cromwell: The job goes well. You should have what you want in no time.

    Ja'Meela: Good.

    Cromwell settled into his seat and smiled.

    Jerimiah walked into the darkened exhibit half expecting some booby trap to be triggered. From the shine of his light, he saw many objects still in creates, settled on display tables and placed about on the floor. Many crates were still sealed but three of them were opened. Inside each of them were various objects: swords, daggers, shields, helmets, armor, spear tips and an assortment of weapons. The archaeologist marveled at how well the ancient weapons were preserved. Looking at them with care and scrutiny he noticed the weapons were more than preserved but brand new. "They looked like as if they were crafted recently." Jerimiah thought to himself.

    More puzzling, each weapon and armament were from different time periods, different cultures from around the world. Impossible for some of these cultures to have any contact with each other, but items from Greek, African, and Asian societies were all in on collection. Perhaps Cynthia Petrakis acquired each of the items from various markets.

    At the four corners of the room stood twelve foot statues, all different designs and carvings. Each one, the shape of some sort of a living creature all were facing the middle of the room, as if to guard the other treasures within. A shiver ran up and down Jerimiah's spine. He felt as if he was being scrutinized from the four giant statues. One statue that caught his eye was the one that looked the most human. Its face was carved to look like an old man with sad eyes. The light revealed as much when Jerimiah shinned it up to its face. The eyes, with no pupils, seem to be staring at him. No that was impossible, he thought. But he was trapped in a staring contest with a statue. Its eyes flashed a warning: Do not attempt to steal anything from this room!

    "Don't worry my friend. Madame Petrakis wanted me to make sure no one stole anything that did not rightfully belong to them. I promise not to disturb or take anything. In fact," he paused and stepped closer. "I am trying to prevent the robbery of these precious objects."

    The feeling of observation and apprehension slowly ebbed away and then emptiness. As if the feeling understood Jerimiah and accepted his presence.

    "Great, I am talking to statues again. Wait until Samantha hears about this. She won't let me live it down." Smiling to himself, Jerimiah continued his walk-through of the items in the room.

    Sitting on a carved piece of marble in the center of the room, between the four colossal statues, was a medium sized bronze chest that bared neither markings nor even a locking mechanism. This chest was used for quick access storage, not to hide or guard valuables, Jerimiah surmised. Upon further examination, there were notches cut into the short sides of the chest, indicating a larger latching device was used to secure the top to prevent entry or even to secure it for transport. As Jerimiah made note of his findings, he heard the fast paced footsteps of someone approaching. An instinct deep within his being told him to hide and he immediately took refuge behind the statue he was holding a brief conversation with. He turned off his tablet and waited.

    Samsone Zee made his way into the dark exhibit, knowing he should have waited with the others to make their escape. With the guards combing each area searching for additional intruders from the crowd surge, it was just a matter of time until they were caught. He knew this but since he was a young thief, he thought to steal something for himself and fence it to increase his cut of this job, which was not as much as he like it to be. He hated being treated like a child. Experienced or not, Marco was the current thorn in his side. If worse came to worse, he could slip out another exit and be gone before anyone could catch him.

    As he pondered his new plan, the exhibit's lights slowly came on and illuminated the room. Samsone took notice that the exhibit was under construction and transportation crates opened. He took a quick peek in them to see weapons from different time periods of a variety of sizes. Although they were interesting, sneaking them out would be rather difficult. Samsone returned his attention to the bronze chest and taking note there was no lock as he reached for it.

    "What do you think you are doing?" A hand grabbed Samsone's shoulder as he whirled around to see the angry face of Marco. His other comrades in thievery joined them in the unfinished exhibit. All of their faces were the same as Marco's.

    "Relax man," Samsone said attempting with no success to release the clamped hand on his shoulder. "I just wanted a souvenir from this caper. Besides, this is the best place to hide for the moment as the guards continue to search the place."

    Marco looked over to Lian who was listening to her radio. "He is right. Most of the guards are on the second and third floors. However, the police are on the scene and have most of the crowd under control." She paused and then looked at Marco. "Madame Petrakis is on the scene as well."

    The color drained from her face. Lian did not want to confront her former employer for any reason. If she got out of this, she would run as far away as her money could take her. She remembered briefly being interviewed for the security position and meeting Madame Petrakis. Her warm smile and trusting nature would not be present if she was to know the guard she hired betrayed her in such a way. She did not relish the idea and threw Samsone Zee a look that could kill.

    "All right, we move on your say so," Marco declared looking over to Demetrius and Robert. They both nodded. "Lian, how soon until we can move?"

    "Three minutes. But due to lock down procedure and the police presence, we cannot go out the side door. We have to get caught by the museum patrols and be escorted out. Hopefully, they won't search us or the bag but if they do…" Her voice trailed off.

    "That won't be a problem," Marco gestured with his right hand, releasing Samsone, Detmetrius, Robert and Marco began to take their coats off. Each of them had a plastic vest strapped to their backs and immediately filled the vests with the documents they stole from the Greek exhibit. Once filled, they would replace their jackets and dump the bag with their tools in the trash receptacle on their way out the museum.

    "Well, while you three are stowing away the goods, I will be checking that handsome gold chest sitting on this rock over here," Samsone announced as he walked over to the bronze chest.

    Exasperated with the boy, Marco said firmly. "Kid, you don't know a damn thing! It is bronze sitting on top of high grade carved marble!"

    "Whatever, as long as it is worth something." Marco shook his head at this young thief who drew stares from Robert and Demetrius. Looking at Marco and sharing the same thought, Samsone will be departing this group when the opportunity presents itself.

    Jerimiah stood in the shadow of the stone golem carefully considering his next move. It is by blind luck he spotted thieves attempting to lift some artifacts from Madame Petrakis' collection. To his estimation, they could be the ones who have perpetrated the previous robberies around the nation. The guard's involvement made sense, to pull this crime off they would need an inside person. Tonight would be the perfect night to pull off this heist, Jerimiah thought to himself. Security focused on the guests inside, securing the grounds outside, spread thin throughout the museum. He cursed himself for not getting this information to Madame Petrakis sooner. His exasperation, though muted from his point of view, accidentally spilled from his lips. The sound attracted Samsone.
 
    "Did you guys hear something?" he asked as he stopped just before going to the bronze chest. He walked over to one of the giant stone statues, the one Jerimiah was standing behind, and peered behind it. Jerimiah was looking straight in to the eyes of the young boy. Jerimiah smelled his bad aftershave and took note of his crazy hair style.

    Samsone stared into the dark area for moment. He heard nothing, saw nothing and smelled nothing.

    "I guess it was nothing," he relented and went back to his focus.
 
    "Keep it to together kid," Robert said as he finished storing away his portion of the parchments they lifted earlier. "We are out of here in two minutes."
 
    "Don't sweat it my man," Samsone replied as he slipped on some gloves and opened the chest. "Jackpot!"
 
    Out of curiosity, Marco, Lian Robert and Demetrius rushed to see what the excitement was about. All of them were looking at several dozen metallic amulets with crystal ornaments adorning the peculiar shape. Some the crystals on the amulets were the size of grapes. They could not tell what type of gem stones they were; all of them were priceless. Each amulet was made of different metals: silver, gold, platinum, bronze, iron and others that were not easily recognized. Some had straps made of leather, others attached to chains of the same metal. All of them, as far as they could see, had etchings of different languages. Another odd occurrence, at the moment from when the chest opened, there was a brief flash of light and then it dimmed. From a quick examination, there were no other light sources available. How did that light show occur? Hardly worth solving this mystery as all of them were taken by the sheer priceless value of each artifact contained in the chest.
 
    "Focus everyone," Marco uttered as even he was taken aback by the sight of these amulets. Even he wanted to take them but every second they delayed will put them at the risk of being caught by the museum guards or the police.
 
    Jerimiah started breathing again the moment Samsone walked away. How did he not sense he was there in the shadow? Jerimiah wondered but was thankful for not being discovered. He looked up at the statue and concluded that there is some sort of presence in this guardian. At another time he could investigate this guardian further. He was absolutely sure he would sit for an interview, but getting him to reveal his secret would take more than just tea and crumpets.