Chapter 1: Action On The Beach

"Few can argue that the island of Agoras is one of the most beautiful of the Aegean Greek islands. But the legends that surround the island speak of a past where beauty here was valued in coin. Oh, that's no bloody good!" Bethany Howes, standing up to her knees in water, fifty feet off the beach, pushed her face into her hands shook her head and called to the group watching her from the beach. "Let's go again!"

"Agoras is one of the most beautiful of the Aegean Greek islands," she began once more. "But in the past, if legends are to be believed, beauty here was once valued in coin." She stopped, put her hands on her hips and shook her head. Her long dark hair, with its tints of auburn glistening in the mid-morning sun, swung flirtatiously. It was exactly the effect she was looking for. She looked earnestly towards the beach. "And over the next few weeks, my team will be hoping to find evidence of those legends." She strode purposefully out of the water and on to the scorching sand to join the small group of women assembled there.

As she reached them, one of them, holding a video camera, stood up. "Great, Bethany, great!" she called out. "That will be fine."

Bethany looked sceptical. "Maybe," she said. "We can always redo it if we have to. I just wish we could get on with the excavation. I'd rather get that under way and do these pieces to camera once we've got something definite to talk about."

"Don't worry," the girl with the camera said. "The permits should be through today. Do you want to do the piece on the temple site now?"

Bethany looked around at the beach and over towards a rocky headland where a white villa sat perched on the low cliffs. A solitary figure was standing on the terrace of the villa looking out to sea. "No," she said. "Let's go back to the harbour. The ferry is due in soon. With luck our permit should be on it. If it is we can still get some work done today." The group began to pack up their things.

On the headland, the solitary figure watched as they collected up their bags. It was too early in the season for holiday makers — not that there were many of them here even at the height of the season - and the group of five girls had intrigued him. They were obviously making a film; their equipment more than a tourist would bother with but less than a professional movie team would have. One girl had a substantial video camera, another a sound recorder and microphone. A third carried a large bag with folders, and a clip board. One other was lounging around looking bored and the fifth, evidently the focus of their endeavours, had been standing out in the bay.

Freddie Clegg had been looking through his binoculars at Bethany as she had repeated her walk out of the sea. It had taken her five attempts to get it right and Freddie had been happy to study her as she did it. All right, she was hardly Ursula Andress, or Halle Berry come to that, but she was an attractive woman in her mid thirties and, by the fifth attempt, the splashed spray from waves had made sure that her denim shorts and her tee-shirt were clinging agreeably to her figure. Freddie wasn't keen on film makers here, especially just now, but the mermaid, as he had dubbed her, was easy on the eye at least. And the rest of her group were an attractive looking group of women too. Still, perhaps they wouldn't be here for long. He could hardly believe he had felt that. He must be getting old, he thought.