Chapter 8: The Watcher in the Shadows

Athens, Greece

The laboratory at the University of Athens bore the unmistakable signs of a targeted break-in. Equipment had been overturned, computers damaged, and research notes scattered across the floor. But to Sahara’s trained eye, the chaos appeared deliberate rather than random—specific areas had been searched while others remained untouched.

“They knew exactly what they were looking for,” she said to Papadakis, who stood in the doorway surveying the damage with a grim expression. “Our work on the manuscript was the target, not valuable equipment or other research materials.”

Papadakis nodded, his usual bureaucratic demeanor replaced by genuine concern. “The university security cameras captured only partial footage. The intruders disabled most of the system before entering, suggesting professional expertise.”

Sahara carefully picked up a folder containing translation notes that had been rifled through and discarded. “Were they able to access the manuscript itself?”

“No. As you know, it remains in the secure vault, which was not compromised.” Papadakis hesitated, then added, “However, I am now questioning whether the university can provide adequate security for such a clearly valuable artifact.”

“What are you suggesting?” Sahara asked, immediately alert to the shift in his tone.

“The Ministry is considering transferring the manuscript to the National Archaeological Museum, where security measures are more robust.” He adjusted his glasses, not quite meeting her eyes. “And there is some discussion about limiting research access until a full security review can be completed.”

Sahara straightened, alarm rising within her. “That would effectively halt our investigation at a critical juncture. We’ve just confirmed the manuscript’s accuracy with discoveries in France that validate its historical significance.”

“So I understand from your preliminary report,” Papadakis replied. “However, these security breaches raise serious concerns. The Ministry must consider the manuscript’s protection as the highest priority.”

“Protection shouldn’t mean suppression of research,” Sahara countered. “Especially now that we’ve discovered a companion manuscript that expands our understanding of the text.”

Papadakis’s eyebrows rose. “A companion manuscript? This was not mentioned in your report.”

Sahara hesitated, realizing she had revealed more than intended. The Aramaic manuscript and sealed vessel were currently secured in her hotel safe, not yet officially documented in the university system. She had planned to process them properly after assessing the laboratory situation.

“It’s a recent discovery that requires further authentication,” she said carefully. “I was planning to complete the documentation today.”

Papadakis studied her with narrowed eyes. “Ms. Quinn, I must remind you that all artifacts discovered during university-sponsored research must be immediately reported and properly catalogued. Failure to follow protocols could jeopardize your position with this project.”

“I understand the protocols,” Sahara replied, maintaining her composure despite her rising frustration. “But given the security breach, I needed to ensure the new findings were adequately protected before official processing.”

A tense silence fell between them, broken only when Papadakis’s phone chimed with an incoming message. He checked it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“The Ministry representatives will be here within the hour to assess the situation,” he said. “I suggest you use that time to properly document and submit any new discoveries. It would be ... unfortunate ... if questions arose about your handling of archaeological materials.”

After he left, Sahara immediately called Elias, who was en route to Italy with Layla.

“We have a problem,” she said without preamble when he answered. “The Ministry is considering restricting access to the manuscript and transferring it to the National Museum. And Papadakis knows about the Aramaic text—I slipped up during our conversation.”

“That complicates matters,” Elias replied, his voice slightly distorted by the poor connection. “How soon will they take action?”

“Ministry representatives are arriving within the hour. Once they’re involved, bureaucracy will take over and our research could be stalled indefinitely.”

“Then you need to document everything immediately and secure digital copies of all our findings. If they restrict physical access, we’ll at least have the data to continue our analysis.”

Sahara was already moving toward the exit. “I’m heading to my hotel to get the Aramaic manuscript and vessel. I’ll bring them in for official documentation before the Ministry arrives.”

“Be careful,” Elias cautioned. “If someone targeted the laboratory, they might be watching you as well.”

“I’ll take precautions,” she assured him. “How are things on your end?”

“We’ve just arrived in Naples. We’ll reach Cumae by this afternoon and begin our reconnaissance of the site.”

The mention of Cumae seemed to set Layla off again, her laughter bubbling up in the background. Sahara rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t entirely suppress a smile. “I can hear Layla laughing over there. Let me guess—she’s made the same joke again, hasn’t she?”

Elias sighed, his tone long-suffering. “Unfortunately, yes. And it’s not getting any funnier.”

Sahara chuckled softly. “Well, tell her to focus. This isn’t a vacation. Keep me updated, and watch for any signs of surveillance. Whoever broke into the lab clearly has resources and determination.”

After ending the call, Sahara exited the university. As a precaution after the break-in, she had moved out of her campus room and into a discreet hotel under a different name. It wasn’t ideal, but staying in one place for too long felt like a risk she couldn’t afford. She took an indirect route, weaving through side streets and doubling back occasionally to check for any signs of being followed. The streets of Athens were crowded with midday traffic and tourists, providing both cover and complication for detecting surveillance.

After reaching her hotel room, Sahara locked the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, letting the silence and safety of the space sink in. She set her bag down and headed straight for the bathroom, stripping off her clothes as she went. The heat and grime of the city clung to her skin, and she needed to wash it all away.

She turned on the shower, letting the water warm up before stepping under the steady stream. The warmth cascaded over her, soothing her tense muscles as she tilted her head back, wetting her hair. She reached for the shampoo, massaging it into her scalp, the scent of lavender filling the air. As she rinsed, her hands moved down to her body, soaping her arms, her shoulders, her breasts.

Her fingers brushed against the golden sun disks permanently attached to her breasts. They were a reminder of her trials in the search for the hidden Temple of Ishtar—and her mother, who had disappeared years before. Both had been found, though her mother had been irrevocably changed, transformed into a demigoddess by the temple’s ancient magic. The sun disks were part of that journey, a mark of her own connection to the divine. They left her nipples in a state of perpetual arousal, a constant, low hum of sensation she had learned to live with—mostly.

She thought back to one of the last times she’d gone through customs at an airport, the female officer scrutinizing her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The officer’s eyes had lingered on the sun disks, her curiosity piqued. “What are these?” she’d asked, her tone firm but not unkind. Sahara had explained it was a cultural artifact, a part of her heritage, but the officer wasn’t satisfied. She’d been taken aside for a more thorough search—very thorough. The memory of the officer’s hands on her, the way her touch had lingered, the way she’d brought Sahara to the edge and over it—it flooded back to her now, under the warm spray of the shower.

Her breath hitched as she let her hand drift lower, her fingers finding the familiar rhythm that would bring her relief. The water washed over her as she worked, the tension of the day melting away with each stroke. When the climax hit, she leaned against the tiled wall, letting it wash over her like the water itself, a release of both body and mind.

When she was done, she rinsed off the soap, feeling lighter, cleaner. She stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, drying herself off before wrapping it around her body. She brushed her hair, letting it fall in damp waves over her shoulders, and then got dressed in fresh clothes.

Feeling more grounded, Sahara moved to the room’s safe and opened it, retrieving the Aramaic manuscript and the sealed vessel. She placed them carefully in her specialized transport case, securing the latches and checking the seals. As she was preparing to leave, her phone chimed with a text message from an unknown number:

“The vessel contains knowledge too dangerous to be rediscovered. Surrender it now, or face consequences beyond academic censure.”

Sahara stared at the message, a chill running through her despite the warm Athens day. The threat was explicit, and the timing suggested whoever sent it knew exactly where she was and what she had in her possession.

She quickly scanned the room for any signs of surveillance devices but found nothing obvious. Either the threat was a bluff based on general knowledge of their discoveries, or her opponents had sources of information she hadn’t anticipated.

Either way, she couldn’t risk the artifacts. If someone was watching her, they might attempt to intercept the items before she could properly document and secure them.

She texted a colleague in the archaeology department whom she trusted—Dr. Sophia Makris, a specialist in ancient ceramics who had assisted with the initial examination of the manuscript.

“Need your help urgently. Can you meet me at the Acropolis Museum café in 30 minutes? Come alone and don’t mention this to anyone.”

Sophia’s reply came quickly: “On my way. Is everything okay?”

“Will explain in person. Thank you.”

Sahara left the hotel by a service entrance, the transport case securely strapped across her body beneath her light jacket. The Acropolis Museum was busy enough to provide anonymity, but secure enough with its multiple security cameras to deter any direct confrontation.

She arrived early, selecting a table with clear sightlines to all entrances and exits. Sophia appeared precisely on time, her expression concerned as she spotted Sahara and made her way to the table.

“What’s happening?” she asked without preamble as she sat down. “The department is buzzing about the break-in, and Papadakis seems unusually agitated.”

“I need your help getting these artifacts properly documented and secured,” Sahara explained, keeping her voice low. “I’ve received threats specifically targeting them, and I don’t trust the normal channels right now.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. “Threats? Sahara, you should go to the police.”

“I will, but first I need to ensure these items are officially in the university system with proper documentation. Once that’s done, they can’t simply disappear or be restricted without academic oversight.”

She briefly explained the discoveries in France and the significance of the Aramaic manuscript and sealed vessel, watching as Sophia’s initial concern transformed into professional interest.

“So this vessel might contain preserved samples of the substance described in the manuscript?” Sophia asked, her expertise in ancient ceramics immediately focusing on the most relevant aspect.

“Exactly. Which is why proper analysis is crucial—and why someone might want to prevent that analysis from happening.”

Sophia considered for a moment, then nodded decisively. “I can help. My laboratory has the equipment for preliminary documentation, and I have authorization to access the secure storage facilities. We can process everything officially but keep it under the radar from Papadakis until it’s properly in the system.”

“Thank you,” Sahara said, genuine relief in her voice. “I knew I could count on you.”

They left the museum separately, meeting again at Sophia’s laboratory in a different building of the university campus. The ceramic analysis lab was equipped with specialized imaging technology and environmental controls perfect for documenting ancient artifacts without risking damage.

Working efficiently, they photographed and catalogued the Aramaic manuscript and sealed vessel, entering them into the university’s artifact database with complete provenance information linking them to the original Greek manuscript. Sophia then used her credentials to transfer the physical items to the secure storage facility, where they would be protected but still accessible for research purposes.

“There,” Sophia said as they completed the final documentation. “Now they’re officially part of the university collection. Any attempt to restrict access or transfer them would require academic committee approval, not just Ministry decree.”

“You’ve saved these artifacts from potential disappearance,” Sahara said gratefully. “I owe you.”