Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, October 16, 2012, 2:45AM
In the reception office leading to the main office of Madame Petrakis, sat a custom built clock on a wooden table. On its face the hands pointed to the time of 2:45. The ancient timepiece was nearly one hundred years old made of wood, brass and crystal glass over the face of the. It kept the best time as one could find around, just slightly better than the atomic clock. Standing two feet tall, it displayed a large face with the numerals written in Old English style lettering, surrounding it in the brass sculpture of replica castle in northern Europe. A gift from the Lord and Lady Windstorm to Madame Mercia Petrakis (another identity Medusa assumed years prior to adopting the guise of Cynthia Petrakis) over a hundred years ago.
This ancient clock has been moved to many different places over the years, keeping time over any and all events it witnessed. Among such events was the conversation held in the next office between the curious archaeologist and the Gorgon. They sat across from each other in silence for a few minutes as Medusa finished her incredible tale. An empty bottle of rum and two empty glasses occupied the top of the stylish desk.
Jerimiah was busy typing a few things on his tablet and making sure everything Medusa imparted in the conversation was recorded. He put the tablet down and looked at the being across from him. The moment he saw her reflection in the bronze chest, while in the process of trespassing, it was the face of a horrible monster. After nearly three hours of conversation and drinks, Medusa seemed very different, at least in personality and spirituality. She was hardly the evil monster of myth and legend. Her story was never fully explored nor was she ever given a chance to plead her case. Instead she was victimized for nearly two centuries. From the violation at Poseidon's hand to every person she gazed upon to and finally her execution.
It was remarkable to think that with all she had been through, all of the years of isolation and death, she be able to adopt a guise of culture, civility and peace. The notion made Jerimiah's blood run cold for a moment. What if she was merely making up this story? What if all of this was an elaborate scheme to kill Jerimiah after the fact? He shook his head in disagreement with his doubts. Medusa took notice of his change in posture.
"I see you are having a hard time processing all of what you have heard. I imagine you are a child of a world that can relate to a universe of only the logical, physical and not much else. I assure you, the universe is many times larger than the notion of logic and physics."
Jerimiah seem to take offense to the comment, but Medusa was right in a sense. "Partially true. But one of the reasons why I became an archaeologist was to find out the difference between myth and fact. In my life, I have discovered that embellishment is a sin common to all men in all cultures throughout the world. But you," he gestured to his host. "You are living proof of the myth and fact!"
"I am old by calendar measurement, but I have lived so many different lives and I have been blessed to experience the lives of so many people. You are counted as one of them." Her voice was calm, soothing, and almost hypnotic. She seemed to be more human, feminine than a demon. She leaned forward and planted her elbows on her desk. "I feel I can trust you and since you have assisted me in this past evening, you may be an individual that can be valuable to me as well as to the Foundation.
"I would like your assistance in not only helping me transition from Greece to New York City, but also to discover who or why my museum was violated in an effort to steal from me. Other museums were hit, according to your research and many of the pieces I donated were taken. Could it be the same men who were at the Gala this past evening and were they working for the same entity paying them to do so." Medusa paused for a moment in thought and then continued. "The documents they wanted are of no use to anyone unless they can read ancient Greek. And if someone could, the dialogue of the manuscript is archaic. I don't think many modern scholars have any inkling as to where to start."
Jerimiah leaned forward in his chair. "With the other robberies across the nation, I think some were either attempting to reassemble an ancient tome or use these items to unlock a deeper meaning of a lost secret." Jerimiah smiled as he felt like a detective, as Samantha told him not to be when trying to solve this museum robbery. "Or someone with power and influence may be targeting you, Cynthia Petrakis, and is only holding these items for ransom."
"It seems there is a very large mystery to solve here, Mr. Clarke." Medusa rose and pulled her hood lower to cover her now quiet hair of snakes. "Consider yourself working for me, Medusa and Cynthia Petrakis. We want you to discover who is behind this and also help with my transition here."
"I understand. But won't you reconsider? Cynthia Petrakis could influence others to stand against the corruption plaguing Greece," Jerimiah pleased."
"There is no cure for corruption. Any and all influence I muster against it will only be corrupted. I want to help but from the side. As much as I can enjoy the spotlight from time to time, like tonight, I cannot have people investigate my past. I will instead use other resources to inspire the people to grasp a more positive future."
"The Noble Petrakis Foundation!" Jerimiah surmised excitedly.
Medusa smiled warmly. "Exactly, among my many other organizations. While I love Greece, there are too many variables and opportunities open for theft and collusion. Besides, this city has an ambiance I will enjoy for a time before moving on. You can say I have lived all over the world but there is no place like home. And one day I shall return to it."
Jerimiah's eyes widened in curiosity and he was ready to ask another question. Medusa held up a hand. "I know you want to talk until the sun rises and learn so much more. But I have a great many things to do and I think it is time for you to call it a day. We both had a very exciting and long day."
"No doubt about that," Jerimiah said as he gathered up his things. He looked at his host and considered her for a moment. Clearly, this being was more human than any other person he had ever met. At any time she could have ended his life but beneath the serpent hair, the deathly eyes, gray skin, bronze nails and three thousand years of a long life, Medusa was not a bad person to be around. But with the revelations heard on following the gala, Jerimiah's mind will be preoccupied for the next several days. Foremost on his mind was Samantha and going to her place to apologize for being so late. Which was worse, talking with Medusa or facing a possibly angry girlfriend? If he survived a conversation with a Gorgon, an irate girlfriend was manageable.
"May I ask a short term question?" Jerimiah said as he put on his coat and picked up his saddle bag.
"Of course, as long as it is a short term question," Medusa quaintly replied.
"What will you do about the attempted robbery this evening?"
Medusa paused before answering. "I will call my lawyers and police contacts arrange for bail for the security guard who was in my employ. I will then speak to her to see what she knows about the robbery. The others, I will follow them and learn who contracted them to steal from me."
"Will you do this as the philanthropist or the Gorgon?"
"I guess that will depend on who they antagonize and how I respond to them." The blunt statement sent a chill up and down Jerimiah's spine. He knew getting on Medusa's bad side was not a healthy choice. She led Jerimiah out of her office to the outer office to a small passenger elevator. She pressed for the elevator and a few seconds later it arrived.
"This will lead you to the garage. Please tell the driver to take you wherever you wish to go." She held out her hand to Jerimiah who was stepped in the elevator. "Mr. Clarke, I want to really thank you for all you have done. I will contact you in a couple of days to instruct you in the specific duties of your knew position."
Jerimiah grasp her hand gently. "Madame Medusa, it was a pleasure getting to know the real you. I won't let you down."
"Oh, I have no doubt about that. Good night, Mr. Clarke."
"Good morning Madame Medusa," he grinned as the doors closed and the elevator whisked Jerimiah to the parking garage level. Jerimiah was right, it was the early morning and it was time to go for the night.
Medusa walked back to her office taking off her hood and removing her large shades. Tonight was an adventurous night and definitely had not planned reliving her early days in Greece. Nonetheless it was necessary more so for the future plans of her exploits. She returned to her desk and pulled up her itinerary and an email program. Her fingers moved at the speed of thought and for the several minutes, she changed her work schedule, emailed her lawyers and opened new files on the night's events. All the while the demon, the Gaz'don demon, inside of her watched what she was doing with interest until it finally spoke.
"You seem energized and angry at the same time. What are you thinking?" it asked.
"I would guess you would know since you and I are so close," snapped Medusa with a slight smile.
"I will handle the sarcastic remarks, thank you very much," the Gaz'don demon replied. "But seriously, who do you perceive could be in danger of a possible confrontation, Cynthia Petrakis and her foundation, or Medusa?"
Medusa paused and drummed her bronze nails on the desk. "Both. I do not know if someone, other than Jerimiah, knows of the Gorgon Medusa. If Cynthia is under observation, then Medusa will be discovered. I cannot allow it. I have come so far as to not allow my plans to become undone."
"The single incident of this evening occurred in our favor. Their failure to secure the items on their agenda will make whoever the person hired them, unhappy with their result. If they go back to their benefactor, then their fate is sealed. If they try to run, they will be hunted down."
"This means we have to move quickly and ascertain who is behind these robberies Jerimiah was tracking." A sweep of her hand across her desk cleared the screen and then she brought up the report Jerimiah transferred to her private server. The items on a first glance were more for display in museums and trivial in value. But Medusa knew that many of these items held secret incantations if one knew how to translate and invoke the proper spells. The arcane mysteries and powers, thankfully, were all but gone from this world. Even the ancient pages in the wrong hands can cause untold calamity.
On another screen, she monitored Jerimiah leaving in her stretch limousine from the museum garage. Medusa felt deep down in her soul that she could trust this modern man, not because of his assistance in thwarting the robbery during the Gala, but for being Ajani's descendant from those wonderful people she befriended on the island of Ieró so long ago. His contact with one of the amulets and how he handled the stone guardians was most impressive. Looking at his glass Medusa could take his DNA left on it and run it through her database to confirm her theory. Ultimately Medusa dismissed the idea; she didn't need science to tell her the answer she already knew.
From the list Jerimiah compiled on the previous robberies, several items caught her attention: ancient scrolls of the Lost South American Tribe, the clay tablets of Mystic Monks of Asia, European Documents of the Occult, Ancient Greek Tragedies (Untranslated) and the African Mysteries of the Stars. All of them, if one had knowledge of astrology, occult and other mystic arts, were a treasure trove of information illustrating ancient mankind's perception and interaction with the universe at large. Otherwise, to the average museum patron, the items were just ancient relics on display. Questions as to who would steal such items and for what purpose baffled Medusa and the Gaz'don demon for several minutes as they pondered a list of possibilities. No answer came to them.
Exhaling and groaning loudly, she reclined back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Do you want to use our arcane magic to reveal the identity of this mystery person?" the demon asked.
Medusa hesitated and then answered, "Other than the incident in the park, I want to keep the use of mystical and ethereal forces at a minimum. We will rely on modern means and the internet to find our mysterious foe. If they yield no answers, we will cast limited spells for the unseen to reveal its purpose to us."
"Understood," the demon responded. "Hopefully, whoever is taking up these ancient relics has not created a spell of concealment."
For a long moment they were silent, thinking about the robberies and noting a pattern, an all too familiar pattern.
"Someone is collecting mystical objects and any historical records just as I have in the past!" Medusa said out loud in a state of momentary fright. Over the years, her collection of objects and wealth had grown exponentially. Her purpose since leaving the island was to travel the world and to destroy any and all demon monsters possible. Even if any false gods managed to escape the fall of Mount Olympus, they would die by her hand. She thought of Athena and wished she was alive to only kill her in the most horrible way possible. But the goddess' remains have long since been scattered to the winds. Still, the robberies, the calamity in Greece among other events were now converging on Medusa and she did not like the implications.
"If you were a powerful being from the ancient world of magic, how would you secure it so that you were the only powerful being?"
"By making sure no one else had access to any object or spell that can oppose you," the demon said in a sly voice.
Medusa agreed, for it was the same plan she implemented but to protect humanity, not to destroy them. So the question was who is behind it? An investigation into the criminals' identities was a good place to start. Also, if she removed and stored documents the criminals were attempting to steal, it was another way to draw anyone looking for them closer to Medusa. All the better for her, she thought.
She took a deep breath to clear her mind and to focus on the task ahead:
First, remove all of the ancient writings from her exhibit and replace them with artwork from her storage facility in the basement of the Metropolitan.
Second, change the display and museum maps and site to reflect the change.
Third, contact her lawyer and see if she can arrange bail for the men and woman involved.
Fourth, call Detective Brenson to arrange a possible one on one with them as to obtain more information on the identity of the one who ordered the robbery.
"This is going to be a long night isn't it?" said the Gaz'don with a sigh.
"Yes, but don't worry, I will go home to rest for a few hours and then back out to the precinct," Medusa said as she ran out of her office in a blur and seconds later was standing at the first cabinet of the ancient writings. "I have recorded all of your shows on DVR so you won't miss anything."
"It is not the same as watching it live. I don't know, but watching a program from the DVR, everything appears to be two-dimensional." Medusa smiled as she moved blinding speed to clear out the exhibit, take down the signs and go into the basement to decide on what to replace in the exhibit. If Medusa was a normal human being, this would take her rest of the night. Medusa was anything but normal or ordinary.
* * *
The limousine driven by Salvatore made its way easily in the early morning night of the New York City streets. Despite the uneven roads and potholes, the limousine provided a smooth ride for both driver and passenger.
"Like riding on a cloud," Jerimiah said aloud admiring the interior and looking out of the window.
"You say something sir?" asked Salvatore looking in his rear-view mirror.
"I was commenting on how smooth this limo is riding over a Manhattan street. It is just uncanny."
Without taking his eyes of the road, Salvatore replied, "All of Madame Petrakis' vehicles have special shock absorbers, tires and suspension systems far above what inspectors would consider adequate. The vehicles are also environmentally friendly. I tell you it is a pleasure driving any one of them. But if you were to take them on the off road, you will feel the bumps but not as much. I have taken to call this particular limo, the Cloud. But for some reason Madame Petrakis didn't take to the name, the Cloud. I mean, it fits perfectly."
Jerimiah smiled inwardly as he understood that the driver Salvatore was only aware of the Cynthia Petrakis personae. There was a good reason for not accepting the name Cloud for the limousine; the beings that tormented the Mediterranean for centuries lived in the clouds. An association between the past and the present would definitely not sit well with her.
The Cloud, as Salvatore called the limousine, pulled up to a tall, red-bricked apartment building on 10TH Avenue and 57TH Street. Counting the floors from the street to the 10TH floor where he can see the light was on in Samantha's apartment. Clearly she was up but unclear as to why. He hoped it was not because Samantha was waiting up for him. If so, he would feel terrible about having her wait for him until a late hour. Of course, she could be mad at him and he could be walking into a trap. Jerimiah wondered if he could convince Salvatore to drive him to his Brooklyn brownstone instead.
"Ok, here we go Mr. Clarke," Salvatore reported as he was about to get out when Jerimiah stopped him.
"No need to get out my friend, I'm good," Jerimiah said as he grabbed his saddle bag and opened his door and stepped out. He looked up and sighed. "Listen, don't be surprised if Madame Me-, I mean Madame Petrakis was working when you go back and get her. I have a feeling she will be busy in her office and the museum for a little while before she retires for the night."
"That is good to hear. At this late hour she will most likely give me the day off tomorrow and I can get some sleep. Good night Mr. Clarke." The white limousine pulled away and it quietly headed north back to the museum.
Jerimiah stepped into the building lobby and looked for Samantha's apartment number, 10-B, and pressed the intercom button.
"Who is it?" Samantha asked in a flat tone over the intercom.
"It's me honey, Jerimiah." A few moments passed and Jerimiah could swear he felt the waves of frustration emanate from the building intercom. Then the door buzzed permitting access to the building.
On the tenth floor, apartment B, Jerimiah waited for the door to open, hoping not to see a tired Samantha in a night gown. To his surprise, Samantha came to the door in the same clothes she had on earlier in the evening at the museum. "Quick! Come in!" She grabbed Jerimiah by the arm and pulled him inside. In the living room of the apartment, three 40-inch screens, two laptops and an iPad all had her story streaming on different channels, not of the museum opening, but of the announcement of the Noble Petrakis Foundation and of the attempted robbery. Different stations all getting the newsfeed Samantha's team shot only a few hours past.
"I could not believe how much of a buzz all of this is getting. I mean when we got back to the station, my boss wanted to give me a raise, didn't get it, but he had calls from dozens of networks to share the feed and broadcast it on their station affiliates. Essentially, Channel 6 has national and some international attention." Samantha beamed as she showed Jerimiah all of the footage, web blogs, and ratings for the coverage of the museum. "There is talk that I may go a major network or get my own show. But I can settle for a cushy anchor job. What do you think?"
Jerimiah's eyes went from the all of the screens to Samantha's smiling face. She noted the look in his eyes and her smile started to fade.
"Sweetheart, I think you should take the anchor job for a while and then move up to the major networks. Take a bite, but small manageable bites. You have a habit of tackling things bigger than you. But you always manage to come out on top!"
They sat on the couch as Samantha turned off all of the screens and sat closely with her boyfriend. "You seem very preoccupied. What happened at the museum? I imagine you did not get caught, otherwise you would be sharing the cell with the other thieves."
"No. I got caught by Madame Petrakis herself. We talked and she told me a lot about herself and her purpose here in New York City."
Excitement erupted as Samantha tugged at his arm. "Come tell me everything she said. Tell me why-"
"No!" Jerimiah pulled away and then recovered. "Madame Petrakis has entrusted me with many facts about herself that is not public knowledge. I explained what I was doing in the museum and what my theory was for this and many other robberies. So she hired me to help reveal the mastermind behind them. They are all connected. But the other stories she told me are between me and her. I can't tell you about them unless she wanted me to tell you or she will tell you herself." He looked directly into her eyes and concluded with, "It is no different than your confidential sources and right to privacy, as you have told me in the past."
Samantha moved away a bit on the couch. "So, are you the same man that would call me collect from halfway around the world to tell me you found a clue about some hidden fortress of the past and now you won't tell me what you and another woman talked about for over three hours?"
His face looked tired. Jerimiah realized that the whole night of activity was now catching up with him and several hours of sleep was a great idea. Whether he got it on the couch or in bed was the last mystery for him to solve.
"Samantha, this has been a long day for both of us. Exciting and profitable yes, but I am really tired. I am in no mood to lose another fight to you and I am too tired to go out and buy something to apologize to you. Please, let's talk in the morning or rather later in the morning. Besides," he managed a smile. "I can claim that I am protecting my source's identity as you do on occasion. For now, my source is requesting a bit of privacy until she can sort this mess with the robbery out."
Samantha relented, sat closer and rubbed Jerimiah's back. "Yes my dear. Okay. And for the record, you don't lose every fight, about eighty percent or so. But you are right. We should go to bed and rest." She picked up her iPad from the coffee table. "Can you look at something for me?"
On one of the 40-inch screens was the interview between Jerimiah and Samantha. A few moments later, Cynthia Petrakis arrived and spoke with the two of them. "Raphael had to make minor adjustments to the camera as he shot Cynthia Petrakis. When he attempted to focus closer on her, the image blurred more. It was brief and we edited it out but I find this fascinating. The rest of the footage was normal and we got great shots of her without the distortion."
Jerimiah had an idea what caused temporary blurriness. The demon that possessed Medusa, or Medusa herself, may be projecting an aura that could not be photographed by conventional means. Jerimiah wondered if Medusa was aware of this. Most likely, since she has lived over three thousand years and had chosen to remain out of public view.
"Maybe there was an equipment malfunction? Or Raphael got excited looking at Cynthia Petrakis that he was breathing so heavily, fogged up the image."
Samantha frowned and then laughed. "Okay, I will make sure to ask him that when I see him." She put the iPad down and drew Jerimiah closer to her. "Now you were not mesmerized by this beautiful Greek enchantress were you?"
The image of Medusa's reflection played back in Jerimiah's mind and then the subsequent conversation afterward. It prompted Jerimiah to inhale deeply and let it out. "No, as lovely as she is, I only have eyes for you. In fact she told me to go home to you. So here am I and here we go, off to bed."
Samantha kissed her man full on the lips and then she giggled. She got that feeling, despite the fatigue of the day setting in, she wanted Jerimiah. Jerimiah began to feel aroused by her kiss. He cursed the fact that after so many years of dating, both of them acted like teenagers for the first time discovering sex. He guessed that was more of a blessing than a curse, what would happen when they would get married? At least things would be spicy for a long time to come. Samantha turned out the lights in the living room as Jerimiah powered down all of the screens and laptops. She led him into the bedroom, hand in hand. Luckily, both of them would not have to be anywhere until the afternoon.
* * *
It was 4:00AM and Medusa was finishing up rearranging the display of where the old Greek writings were placed and sported pottery and other art from a tribe in New Guinea. Luckily, she had all of the display placards pre-printed so that a switch like this was easy. She wiped her brow and it revealed sweat. Looking down on her dress, it looked a bit worn out. She wished she changed before working in it but time was critical. In another, half hour the security staff for the day shift would be arriving. She wanted to be gone and get a few hours of sleep before going to the police, then but it may be just as well. Speaking to the staff before the museum opens was a good idea. Hopefully she will not have bags under eyes. Even though she was a cursed being with extraordinary powers, she still required at least seven hours sleep when and where she can get them.
Originally she was going to write a stern memo to the security staff regarding Lian Zhou Zhu. However, an appearance by the owner of the museum may be more direct in expressing her concerns of security lapses. She would have to emphasize the importance of anyone contributing to theft or other illegal practices will not only be dismissed, but also have charges leveled against them.
Within a few seconds she entered her office from the second floor, running as fast as she could. First, she changed out of her expensive gown. Pressing a small button in her desk, a section of the wall slid aside revealing a small shower and drain. Medusa took a quick hot shower to wash off the sweat and then change into different clothes. There was no glass door, only a thick shower curtain to block out anyone foolish enough to look at a naked Gorgon. The water felt great on her skin. She scrubbed herself quickly and wished she could enjoy herself in the shower more, but the senior officers of the security staff would be coming at 4:30 on the dot. She moved her head directly under the hot water to rinse the serpents. This was something she didn't enjoy about being a Gorgon. Fortunately the demon controlled the semi-sentient extensions of it and allowed them to flail about. The action allowed the serpents to shed dirt, sweat and other particles that might have accumulated on them. When they moved in this harsh way, the water penetrated to her scalp. At least the warm water on her scalp felt good. With the shower completed, Medusa dried herself off quickly, slipped into her undergarments and finally a simple white blouse and dark skirt. Sitting in her chair she closed her eyes and concentrated on the spells and physical task of transforming into Cynthia Petrakis.
The snakes quieted and slowly began to form into human hair, even the white snake representing the Gaz'don demon turned into dark flowing hair and retreated into the recesses of Medusa's mind. Her nails shortened and looked red in color. Her gray skin began to soften, achieving the light skin tone from earlier in the evening. Her teeth began to reshape itself into a normal dental arrangement, with no fangs or sharpened teeth visible. Soon, Cynthia Petrakis sat at her desk looking like a business woman. She reached into her drawer and pulled out the contact lenses that will disguise her Gorgon eyes. Once in position she let out a breath.
"I was wondering if you were going to forget to put your false eyes in. It would be mildly amusing to see you forgetting them," the demon said mockingly.
"Your comments and mood suggest that you really want to go home and watch television for several hours," Cynthia shot back.
"Yes. However, you need rest."
Then, it happened, a large yawn snuck up on Medusa and she stretched back in her chair. "See, you are tired and you need your sleep. Everything else will wait until later in the morning."
Medusa, Cynthia Petrakis, nodded in agreement and pressed the phone icon on her desk and searched for Salvatore's number in the limousine. "Salvatore, have you returned to the garage?"
"Yes ma'am. I dropped of Mr. Clarke and I am just waiting here for you. Are you coming down soon?"
"Yes, I will be going back to my building. You can take tomorrow off."
Excitedly Salvatore replied, "Thank you very much. Your chariot is waiting."
Cynthia half expected Salvatore to say the cloud chariot, but she already spoke to him about not referring to the limousine as the cloud. One would think after three thousand years she should have gotten over it, but every day she woke up as the Gorgon, it was an open wound that never healed. Ironically, the Gaz'don demon and her got along pretty decently having many adventures around the world. But privately, she wished for a normal life, the touch of a man's hand on her face, to bear children and grow old. These thoughts, although the demon was aware of them, she kept to herself. But acquiring the museum, moving to New York City and running the foundation would occupy her time as her native land of Greece would either settle its internal disputes or plunge itself into the Mediterranean Sea.
Cynthia shut down her computer console in her desk and closed up her office. Gathering her purse and a brief case, Cynthia Petrakis walked to her private elevator and pressed for the garage. A moment later, Salvatore was waiting with the door opened and ushered his boss inside and closed the door. In less than ten minutes, Cynthia Petrakis would be back in her grand apartment and Salvatore would be off duty for the day.
As the limousine merged into traffic, Cynthia looked into the sky and saw the color started to change, indicating the sun was coming to New York City in matter of a few hours. She smiled and sat back in her seat. Tonight was a good beginning for the museum, for the foundation and her life in New York City, despite the attempted robbery. But more importantly, a new adventure was unfolding concerning the ancient days and her new friend Jerimiah Clarke. Life in New York City would certainly not be dull. For the first time in over twelve hours, Cynthia smiled and relaxed.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, October 16, 2012, 2:45AM
In the reception office leading to the main office of Madame Petrakis, sat a custom built clock on a wooden table. On its face the hands pointed to the time of 2:45. The ancient timepiece was nearly one hundred years old made of wood, brass and crystal glass over the face of the. It kept the best time as one could find around, just slightly better than the atomic clock. Standing two feet tall, it displayed a large face with the numerals written in Old English style lettering, surrounding it in the brass sculpture of replica castle in northern Europe. A gift from the Lord and Lady Windstorm to Madame Mercia Petrakis (another identity Medusa assumed years prior to adopting the guise of Cynthia Petrakis) over a hundred years ago.
This ancient clock has been moved to many different places over the years, keeping time over any and all events it witnessed. Among such events was the conversation held in the next office between the curious archaeologist and the Gorgon. They sat across from each other in silence for a few minutes as Medusa finished her incredible tale. An empty bottle of rum and two empty glasses occupied the top of the stylish desk.
Jerimiah was busy typing a few things on his tablet and making sure everything Medusa imparted in the conversation was recorded. He put the tablet down and looked at the being across from him. The moment he saw her reflection in the bronze chest, while in the process of trespassing, it was the face of a horrible monster. After nearly three hours of conversation and drinks, Medusa seemed very different, at least in personality and spirituality. She was hardly the evil monster of myth and legend. Her story was never fully explored nor was she ever given a chance to plead her case. Instead she was victimized for nearly two centuries. From the violation at Poseidon's hand to every person she gazed upon to and finally her execution.
It was remarkable to think that with all she had been through, all of the years of isolation and death, she be able to adopt a guise of culture, civility and peace. The notion made Jerimiah's blood run cold for a moment. What if she was merely making up this story? What if all of this was an elaborate scheme to kill Jerimiah after the fact? He shook his head in disagreement with his doubts. Medusa took notice of his change in posture.
"I see you are having a hard time processing all of what you have heard. I imagine you are a child of a world that can relate to a universe of only the logical, physical and not much else. I assure you, the universe is many times larger than the notion of logic and physics."
Jerimiah seem to take offense to the comment, but Medusa was right in a sense. "Partially true. But one of the reasons why I became an archaeologist was to find out the difference between myth and fact. In my life, I have discovered that embellishment is a sin common to all men in all cultures throughout the world. But you," he gestured to his host. "You are living proof of the myth and fact!"
"I am old by calendar measurement, but I have lived so many different lives and I have been blessed to experience the lives of so many people. You are counted as one of them." Her voice was calm, soothing, and almost hypnotic. She seemed to be more human, feminine than a demon. She leaned forward and planted her elbows on her desk. "I feel I can trust you and since you have assisted me in this past evening, you may be an individual that can be valuable to me as well as to the Foundation.
"I would like your assistance in not only helping me transition from Greece to New York City, but also to discover who or why my museum was violated in an effort to steal from me. Other museums were hit, according to your research and many of the pieces I donated were taken. Could it be the same men who were at the Gala this past evening and were they working for the same entity paying them to do so." Medusa paused for a moment in thought and then continued. "The documents they wanted are of no use to anyone unless they can read ancient Greek. And if someone could, the dialogue of the manuscript is archaic. I don't think many modern scholars have any inkling as to where to start."
Jerimiah leaned forward in his chair. "With the other robberies across the nation, I think some were either attempting to reassemble an ancient tome or use these items to unlock a deeper meaning of a lost secret." Jerimiah smiled as he felt like a detective, as Samantha told him not to be when trying to solve this museum robbery. "Or someone with power and influence may be targeting you, Cynthia Petrakis, and is only holding these items for ransom."
"It seems there is a very large mystery to solve here, Mr. Clarke." Medusa rose and pulled her hood lower to cover her now quiet hair of snakes. "Consider yourself working for me, Medusa and Cynthia Petrakis. We want you to discover who is behind this and also help with my transition here."
"I understand. But won't you reconsider? Cynthia Petrakis could influence others to stand against the corruption plaguing Greece," Jerimiah pleased."
"There is no cure for corruption. Any and all influence I muster against it will only be corrupted. I want to help but from the side. As much as I can enjoy the spotlight from time to time, like tonight, I cannot have people investigate my past. I will instead use other resources to inspire the people to grasp a more positive future."
"The Noble Petrakis Foundation!" Jerimiah surmised excitedly.
Medusa smiled warmly. "Exactly, among my many other organizations. While I love Greece, there are too many variables and opportunities open for theft and collusion. Besides, this city has an ambiance I will enjoy for a time before moving on. You can say I have lived all over the world but there is no place like home. And one day I shall return to it."
Jerimiah's eyes widened in curiosity and he was ready to ask another question. Medusa held up a hand. "I know you want to talk until the sun rises and learn so much more. But I have a great many things to do and I think it is time for you to call it a day. We both had a very exciting and long day."
"No doubt about that," Jerimiah said as he gathered up his things. He looked at his host and considered her for a moment. Clearly, this being was more human than any other person he had ever met. At any time she could have ended his life but beneath the serpent hair, the deathly eyes, gray skin, bronze nails and three thousand years of a long life, Medusa was not a bad person to be around. But with the revelations heard on following the gala, Jerimiah's mind will be preoccupied for the next several days. Foremost on his mind was Samantha and going to her place to apologize for being so late. Which was worse, talking with Medusa or facing a possibly angry girlfriend? If he survived a conversation with a Gorgon, an irate girlfriend was manageable.
"May I ask a short term question?" Jerimiah said as he put on his coat and picked up his saddle bag.
"Of course, as long as it is a short term question," Medusa quaintly replied.
"What will you do about the attempted robbery this evening?"
Medusa paused before answering. "I will call my lawyers and police contacts arrange for bail for the security guard who was in my employ. I will then speak to her to see what she knows about the robbery. The others, I will follow them and learn who contracted them to steal from me."
"Will you do this as the philanthropist or the Gorgon?"
"I guess that will depend on who they antagonize and how I respond to them." The blunt statement sent a chill up and down Jerimiah's spine. He knew getting on Medusa's bad side was not a healthy choice. She led Jerimiah out of her office to the outer office to a small passenger elevator. She pressed for the elevator and a few seconds later it arrived.
"This will lead you to the garage. Please tell the driver to take you wherever you wish to go." She held out her hand to Jerimiah who was stepped in the elevator. "Mr. Clarke, I want to really thank you for all you have done. I will contact you in a couple of days to instruct you in the specific duties of your knew position."
Jerimiah grasp her hand gently. "Madame Medusa, it was a pleasure getting to know the real you. I won't let you down."
"Oh, I have no doubt about that. Good night, Mr. Clarke."
"Good morning Madame Medusa," he grinned as the doors closed and the elevator whisked Jerimiah to the parking garage level. Jerimiah was right, it was the early morning and it was time to go for the night.
Medusa walked back to her office taking off her hood and removing her large shades. Tonight was an adventurous night and definitely had not planned reliving her early days in Greece. Nonetheless it was necessary more so for the future plans of her exploits. She returned to her desk and pulled up her itinerary and an email program. Her fingers moved at the speed of thought and for the several minutes, she changed her work schedule, emailed her lawyers and opened new files on the night's events. All the while the demon, the Gaz'don demon, inside of her watched what she was doing with interest until it finally spoke.
"You seem energized and angry at the same time. What are you thinking?" it asked.
"I would guess you would know since you and I are so close," snapped Medusa with a slight smile.
"I will handle the sarcastic remarks, thank you very much," the Gaz'don demon replied. "But seriously, who do you perceive could be in danger of a possible confrontation, Cynthia Petrakis and her foundation, or Medusa?"
Medusa paused and drummed her bronze nails on the desk. "Both. I do not know if someone, other than Jerimiah, knows of the Gorgon Medusa. If Cynthia is under observation, then Medusa will be discovered. I cannot allow it. I have come so far as to not allow my plans to become undone."
"The single incident of this evening occurred in our favor. Their failure to secure the items on their agenda will make whoever the person hired them, unhappy with their result. If they go back to their benefactor, then their fate is sealed. If they try to run, they will be hunted down."
"This means we have to move quickly and ascertain who is behind these robberies Jerimiah was tracking." A sweep of her hand across her desk cleared the screen and then she brought up the report Jerimiah transferred to her private server. The items on a first glance were more for display in museums and trivial in value. But Medusa knew that many of these items held secret incantations if one knew how to translate and invoke the proper spells. The arcane mysteries and powers, thankfully, were all but gone from this world. Even the ancient pages in the wrong hands can cause untold calamity.
On another screen, she monitored Jerimiah leaving in her stretch limousine from the museum garage. Medusa felt deep down in her soul that she could trust this modern man, not because of his assistance in thwarting the robbery during the Gala, but for being Ajani's descendant from those wonderful people she befriended on the island of Ieró so long ago. His contact with one of the amulets and how he handled the stone guardians was most impressive. Looking at his glass Medusa could take his DNA left on it and run it through her database to confirm her theory. Ultimately Medusa dismissed the idea; she didn't need science to tell her the answer she already knew.
From the list Jerimiah compiled on the previous robberies, several items caught her attention: ancient scrolls of the Lost South American Tribe, the clay tablets of Mystic Monks of Asia, European Documents of the Occult, Ancient Greek Tragedies (Untranslated) and the African Mysteries of the Stars. All of them, if one had knowledge of astrology, occult and other mystic arts, were a treasure trove of information illustrating ancient mankind's perception and interaction with the universe at large. Otherwise, to the average museum patron, the items were just ancient relics on display. Questions as to who would steal such items and for what purpose baffled Medusa and the Gaz'don demon for several minutes as they pondered a list of possibilities. No answer came to them.
Exhaling and groaning loudly, she reclined back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Do you want to use our arcane magic to reveal the identity of this mystery person?" the demon asked.
Medusa hesitated and then answered, "Other than the incident in the park, I want to keep the use of mystical and ethereal forces at a minimum. We will rely on modern means and the internet to find our mysterious foe. If they yield no answers, we will cast limited spells for the unseen to reveal its purpose to us."
"Understood," the demon responded. "Hopefully, whoever is taking up these ancient relics has not created a spell of concealment."
For a long moment they were silent, thinking about the robberies and noting a pattern, an all too familiar pattern.
"Someone is collecting mystical objects and any historical records just as I have in the past!" Medusa said out loud in a state of momentary fright. Over the years, her collection of objects and wealth had grown exponentially. Her purpose since leaving the island was to travel the world and to destroy any and all demon monsters possible. Even if any false gods managed to escape the fall of Mount Olympus, they would die by her hand. She thought of Athena and wished she was alive to only kill her in the most horrible way possible. But the goddess' remains have long since been scattered to the winds. Still, the robberies, the calamity in Greece among other events were now converging on Medusa and she did not like the implications.
"If you were a powerful being from the ancient world of magic, how would you secure it so that you were the only powerful being?"
"By making sure no one else had access to any object or spell that can oppose you," the demon said in a sly voice.
Medusa agreed, for it was the same plan she implemented but to protect humanity, not to destroy them. So the question was who is behind it? An investigation into the criminals' identities was a good place to start. Also, if she removed and stored documents the criminals were attempting to steal, it was another way to draw anyone looking for them closer to Medusa. All the better for her, she thought.
She took a deep breath to clear her mind and to focus on the task ahead:
First, remove all of the ancient writings from her exhibit and replace them with artwork from her storage facility in the basement of the Metropolitan.
Second, change the display and museum maps and site to reflect the change.
Third, contact her lawyer and see if she can arrange bail for the men and woman involved.
Fourth, call Detective Brenson to arrange a possible one on one with them as to obtain more information on the identity of the one who ordered the robbery.
"This is going to be a long night isn't it?" said the Gaz'don with a sigh.
"Yes, but don't worry, I will go home to rest for a few hours and then back out to the precinct," Medusa said as she ran out of her office in a blur and seconds later was standing at the first cabinet of the ancient writings. "I have recorded all of your shows on DVR so you won't miss anything."
"It is not the same as watching it live. I don't know, but watching a program from the DVR, everything appears to be two-dimensional." Medusa smiled as she moved blinding speed to clear out the exhibit, take down the signs and go into the basement to decide on what to replace in the exhibit. If Medusa was a normal human being, this would take her rest of the night. Medusa was anything but normal or ordinary.
* * *
The limousine driven by Salvatore made its way easily in the early morning night of the New York City streets. Despite the uneven roads and potholes, the limousine provided a smooth ride for both driver and passenger.
"Like riding on a cloud," Jerimiah said aloud admiring the interior and looking out of the window.
"You say something sir?" asked Salvatore looking in his rear-view mirror.
"I was commenting on how smooth this limo is riding over a Manhattan street. It is just uncanny."
Without taking his eyes of the road, Salvatore replied, "All of Madame Petrakis' vehicles have special shock absorbers, tires and suspension systems far above what inspectors would consider adequate. The vehicles are also environmentally friendly. I tell you it is a pleasure driving any one of them. But if you were to take them on the off road, you will feel the bumps but not as much. I have taken to call this particular limo, the Cloud. But for some reason Madame Petrakis didn't take to the name, the Cloud. I mean, it fits perfectly."
Jerimiah smiled inwardly as he understood that the driver Salvatore was only aware of the Cynthia Petrakis personae. There was a good reason for not accepting the name Cloud for the limousine; the beings that tormented the Mediterranean for centuries lived in the clouds. An association between the past and the present would definitely not sit well with her.
The Cloud, as Salvatore called the limousine, pulled up to a tall, red-bricked apartment building on 10TH Avenue and 57TH Street. Counting the floors from the street to the 10TH floor where he can see the light was on in Samantha's apartment. Clearly she was up but unclear as to why. He hoped it was not because Samantha was waiting up for him. If so, he would feel terrible about having her wait for him until a late hour. Of course, she could be mad at him and he could be walking into a trap. Jerimiah wondered if he could convince Salvatore to drive him to his Brooklyn brownstone instead.
"Ok, here we go Mr. Clarke," Salvatore reported as he was about to get out when Jerimiah stopped him.
"No need to get out my friend, I'm good," Jerimiah said as he grabbed his saddle bag and opened his door and stepped out. He looked up and sighed. "Listen, don't be surprised if Madame Me-, I mean Madame Petrakis was working when you go back and get her. I have a feeling she will be busy in her office and the museum for a little while before she retires for the night."
"That is good to hear. At this late hour she will most likely give me the day off tomorrow and I can get some sleep. Good night Mr. Clarke." The white limousine pulled away and it quietly headed north back to the museum.
Jerimiah stepped into the building lobby and looked for Samantha's apartment number, 10-B, and pressed the intercom button.
"Who is it?" Samantha asked in a flat tone over the intercom.
"It's me honey, Jerimiah." A few moments passed and Jerimiah could swear he felt the waves of frustration emanate from the building intercom. Then the door buzzed permitting access to the building.
On the tenth floor, apartment B, Jerimiah waited for the door to open, hoping not to see a tired Samantha in a night gown. To his surprise, Samantha came to the door in the same clothes she had on earlier in the evening at the museum. "Quick! Come in!" She grabbed Jerimiah by the arm and pulled him inside. In the living room of the apartment, three 40-inch screens, two laptops and an iPad all had her story streaming on different channels, not of the museum opening, but of the announcement of the Noble Petrakis Foundation and of the attempted robbery. Different stations all getting the newsfeed Samantha's team shot only a few hours past.
"I could not believe how much of a buzz all of this is getting. I mean when we got back to the station, my boss wanted to give me a raise, didn't get it, but he had calls from dozens of networks to share the feed and broadcast it on their station affiliates. Essentially, Channel 6 has national and some international attention." Samantha beamed as she showed Jerimiah all of the footage, web blogs, and ratings for the coverage of the museum. "There is talk that I may go a major network or get my own show. But I can settle for a cushy anchor job. What do you think?"
Jerimiah's eyes went from the all of the screens to Samantha's smiling face. She noted the look in his eyes and her smile started to fade.
"Sweetheart, I think you should take the anchor job for a while and then move up to the major networks. Take a bite, but small manageable bites. You have a habit of tackling things bigger than you. But you always manage to come out on top!"
They sat on the couch as Samantha turned off all of the screens and sat closely with her boyfriend. "You seem very preoccupied. What happened at the museum? I imagine you did not get caught, otherwise you would be sharing the cell with the other thieves."
"No. I got caught by Madame Petrakis herself. We talked and she told me a lot about herself and her purpose here in New York City."
Excitement erupted as Samantha tugged at his arm. "Come tell me everything she said. Tell me why-"
"No!" Jerimiah pulled away and then recovered. "Madame Petrakis has entrusted me with many facts about herself that is not public knowledge. I explained what I was doing in the museum and what my theory was for this and many other robberies. So she hired me to help reveal the mastermind behind them. They are all connected. But the other stories she told me are between me and her. I can't tell you about them unless she wanted me to tell you or she will tell you herself." He looked directly into her eyes and concluded with, "It is no different than your confidential sources and right to privacy, as you have told me in the past."
Samantha moved away a bit on the couch. "So, are you the same man that would call me collect from halfway around the world to tell me you found a clue about some hidden fortress of the past and now you won't tell me what you and another woman talked about for over three hours?"
His face looked tired. Jerimiah realized that the whole night of activity was now catching up with him and several hours of sleep was a great idea. Whether he got it on the couch or in bed was the last mystery for him to solve.
"Samantha, this has been a long day for both of us. Exciting and profitable yes, but I am really tired. I am in no mood to lose another fight to you and I am too tired to go out and buy something to apologize to you. Please, let's talk in the morning or rather later in the morning. Besides," he managed a smile. "I can claim that I am protecting my source's identity as you do on occasion. For now, my source is requesting a bit of privacy until she can sort this mess with the robbery out."
Samantha relented, sat closer and rubbed Jerimiah's back. "Yes my dear. Okay. And for the record, you don't lose every fight, about eighty percent or so. But you are right. We should go to bed and rest." She picked up her iPad from the coffee table. "Can you look at something for me?"
On one of the 40-inch screens was the interview between Jerimiah and Samantha. A few moments later, Cynthia Petrakis arrived and spoke with the two of them. "Raphael had to make minor adjustments to the camera as he shot Cynthia Petrakis. When he attempted to focus closer on her, the image blurred more. It was brief and we edited it out but I find this fascinating. The rest of the footage was normal and we got great shots of her without the distortion."
Jerimiah had an idea what caused temporary blurriness. The demon that possessed Medusa, or Medusa herself, may be projecting an aura that could not be photographed by conventional means. Jerimiah wondered if Medusa was aware of this. Most likely, since she has lived over three thousand years and had chosen to remain out of public view.
"Maybe there was an equipment malfunction? Or Raphael got excited looking at Cynthia Petrakis that he was breathing so heavily, fogged up the image."
Samantha frowned and then laughed. "Okay, I will make sure to ask him that when I see him." She put the iPad down and drew Jerimiah closer to her. "Now you were not mesmerized by this beautiful Greek enchantress were you?"
The image of Medusa's reflection played back in Jerimiah's mind and then the subsequent conversation afterward. It prompted Jerimiah to inhale deeply and let it out. "No, as lovely as she is, I only have eyes for you. In fact she told me to go home to you. So here am I and here we go, off to bed."
Samantha kissed her man full on the lips and then she giggled. She got that feeling, despite the fatigue of the day setting in, she wanted Jerimiah. Jerimiah began to feel aroused by her kiss. He cursed the fact that after so many years of dating, both of them acted like teenagers for the first time discovering sex. He guessed that was more of a blessing than a curse, what would happen when they would get married? At least things would be spicy for a long time to come. Samantha turned out the lights in the living room as Jerimiah powered down all of the screens and laptops. She led him into the bedroom, hand in hand. Luckily, both of them would not have to be anywhere until the afternoon.
* * *
It was 4:00AM and Medusa was finishing up rearranging the display of where the old Greek writings were placed and sported pottery and other art from a tribe in New Guinea. Luckily, she had all of the display placards pre-printed so that a switch like this was easy. She wiped her brow and it revealed sweat. Looking down on her dress, it looked a bit worn out. She wished she changed before working in it but time was critical. In another, half hour the security staff for the day shift would be arriving. She wanted to be gone and get a few hours of sleep before going to the police, then but it may be just as well. Speaking to the staff before the museum opens was a good idea. Hopefully she will not have bags under eyes. Even though she was a cursed being with extraordinary powers, she still required at least seven hours sleep when and where she can get them.
Originally she was going to write a stern memo to the security staff regarding Lian Zhou Zhu. However, an appearance by the owner of the museum may be more direct in expressing her concerns of security lapses. She would have to emphasize the importance of anyone contributing to theft or other illegal practices will not only be dismissed, but also have charges leveled against them.
Within a few seconds she entered her office from the second floor, running as fast as she could. First, she changed out of her expensive gown. Pressing a small button in her desk, a section of the wall slid aside revealing a small shower and drain. Medusa took a quick hot shower to wash off the sweat and then change into different clothes. There was no glass door, only a thick shower curtain to block out anyone foolish enough to look at a naked Gorgon. The water felt great on her skin. She scrubbed herself quickly and wished she could enjoy herself in the shower more, but the senior officers of the security staff would be coming at 4:30 on the dot. She moved her head directly under the hot water to rinse the serpents. This was something she didn't enjoy about being a Gorgon. Fortunately the demon controlled the semi-sentient extensions of it and allowed them to flail about. The action allowed the serpents to shed dirt, sweat and other particles that might have accumulated on them. When they moved in this harsh way, the water penetrated to her scalp. At least the warm water on her scalp felt good. With the shower completed, Medusa dried herself off quickly, slipped into her undergarments and finally a simple white blouse and dark skirt. Sitting in her chair she closed her eyes and concentrated on the spells and physical task of transforming into Cynthia Petrakis.
The snakes quieted and slowly began to form into human hair, even the white snake representing the Gaz'don demon turned into dark flowing hair and retreated into the recesses of Medusa's mind. Her nails shortened and looked red in color. Her gray skin began to soften, achieving the light skin tone from earlier in the evening. Her teeth began to reshape itself into a normal dental arrangement, with no fangs or sharpened teeth visible. Soon, Cynthia Petrakis sat at her desk looking like a business woman. She reached into her drawer and pulled out the contact lenses that will disguise her Gorgon eyes. Once in position she let out a breath.
"I was wondering if you were going to forget to put your false eyes in. It would be mildly amusing to see you forgetting them," the demon said mockingly.
"Your comments and mood suggest that you really want to go home and watch television for several hours," Cynthia shot back.
"Yes. However, you need rest."
Then, it happened, a large yawn snuck up on Medusa and she stretched back in her chair. "See, you are tired and you need your sleep. Everything else will wait until later in the morning."
Medusa, Cynthia Petrakis, nodded in agreement and pressed the phone icon on her desk and searched for Salvatore's number in the limousine. "Salvatore, have you returned to the garage?"
"Yes ma'am. I dropped of Mr. Clarke and I am just waiting here for you. Are you coming down soon?"
"Yes, I will be going back to my building. You can take tomorrow off."
Excitedly Salvatore replied, "Thank you very much. Your chariot is waiting."
Cynthia half expected Salvatore to say the cloud chariot, but she already spoke to him about not referring to the limousine as the cloud. One would think after three thousand years she should have gotten over it, but every day she woke up as the Gorgon, it was an open wound that never healed. Ironically, the Gaz'don demon and her got along pretty decently having many adventures around the world. But privately, she wished for a normal life, the touch of a man's hand on her face, to bear children and grow old. These thoughts, although the demon was aware of them, she kept to herself. But acquiring the museum, moving to New York City and running the foundation would occupy her time as her native land of Greece would either settle its internal disputes or plunge itself into the Mediterranean Sea.
Cynthia shut down her computer console in her desk and closed up her office. Gathering her purse and a brief case, Cynthia Petrakis walked to her private elevator and pressed for the garage. A moment later, Salvatore was waiting with the door opened and ushered his boss inside and closed the door. In less than ten minutes, Cynthia Petrakis would be back in her grand apartment and Salvatore would be off duty for the day.
As the limousine merged into traffic, Cynthia looked into the sky and saw the color started to change, indicating the sun was coming to New York City in matter of a few hours. She smiled and sat back in her seat. Tonight was a good beginning for the museum, for the foundation and her life in New York City, despite the attempted robbery. But more importantly, a new adventure was unfolding concerning the ancient days and her new friend Jerimiah Clarke. Life in New York City would certainly not be dull. For the first time in over twelve hours, Cynthia smiled and relaxed.
