Chapter 1

Lindsey was not a happy girl.

She wasn't unhappy, exactly. If anything, her emotional state was non-existent. Her senior year in high school could have been ecstatic, vibrant, chaotic, frightful, painful, embarrassing, any number of adverbs or adjectives. Instead, it simply--was. She would have considered herself a drone if she thought of herself at all. Her existence was simple. She came to school, excelled in her classes, went home, did chores and homework, ate a silent supper with her mother, did a series of workouts inside; afterwards took a shower and went to sleep. Repeat each day with variations on weekends.

She was intelligent but did not associate with the clique of the high school "intelligentsia". It wasn't that she rebuffed attempts at friendship or was painfully shy. She just didn't acknowledge attempts at friendships.

If anyone at the school had been insightful enough to see through the drab exterior she presented, they would have had found an unrivaled beauty in her form. No one was that insightful, however. At her mother's--not so much insistence but rather indoctrination (for insistence presumes a buried rebellion somewhere, but rebellion was nowhere in Lindsey's programming) she wore her dark lustrous hair in a bun, and dark big, framed glasses (though the lenses were mere glass, as Lindsey's eyesight was 20/20). Her clothing always consisted of long sleeved baggy blouses, loose button up sweaters, ankle length skirts and unattractive shoes. Underneath, there was no steamy underwear hinting at wantonness waiting to be unleashed. It was white and utilitarian, ordered from a mail catalogue from a middle class chain department store. The boys who glanced at her and immediately forgot her existence would have passed out from testosterone overload from a simple scene every night in her bedroom. After taking a shower and brushing out her hair, which fell down to the small of her back, she would stand in front of a full length mirror in all of her nude glory. Her full and firm breasts, narrow waist and tight buttocks were the stuff of male fantasies and playboy centerfold searches. But there was neither self-admiration nor self-loathing in her self-examinations. She was simply checking to make sure that everything was healthy. Seeing that her five foot three frame was still in good shape, she put on a nightgown that almost touched the floor when she walked.

If things had gone along uninterrupted, Lindsey would have found herself sixty years from now a "spinster" research librarian with vague feeling of emptiness. Fortunately, fate stepped in. Specifically Fate stepped in in the following forms:

1) A computer program almost as bereft of personality as Lindsey

2) An Irish scholar with the improbable name of Genghis O'Brien

3) A 2500 year old scroll for garden pests.

In a small town in a big but empty western state, a fairly unknown mathematician with a few academic papers to his name died. One of the papers he had produced, though, was fairly instrumental in designing algorithms to make transactions between large financial institutions more secure, thus providing a substantial amount of financial security for the mathematician. Our mathematician had very little use for the money when he was alive, but had big plans for it on his death. His estate provided for the establishment of a research foundation concerning the history of the history of Celtic people, especially B.C.E. (Before Common Era). He had some provisions, though.

Part of the money was to be used to establish a "budding scholar" program. And any Gaelic Historians who wanted long term fellowships in the foundation had to spend a couple of years as mentors in the "budding scholar" program. Specifically, he or she would have to take on a high school senior as an intern in actual research while simultaneously instructing the intern.

Each year, as per the late mathematician's instructions, five high schools were selected at random. Each school was allowed to sponsor five candidates for the internship, and one would be selected on an essay entry, SAT scores and general academic standings. As Lindsey finished her junior year (and incidentally turned 18 in June), her high school was one of the five that was allowed to sponsor five students. The school itself had a mini-selection process including an essay which, after an hour long analytical discussion with her mother concerning the pros and cons (her mother thought it would look good on a scholarship application, though Lindsey herself thought the benefits wouldn't outweigh the need to disrupt her schedule. In the end, though, Lindsey went with her mother), Lindsey submitted her essay and application to her school. Almost inevitably, she was selected among the five students her school sponsored. And in the end, she was selected as the intern in the foundations budding scholar program.

Fate had taken the first step in changing Lindsey's life. The next step was to bring in the Mongolian Hordes from the desert of academia.

Technically, his name was Genghis James O'Brien, though his colleagues called him Jimmy, his superior James, and his family Dutch (for some inexplicable reason his older brother Larry started calling him that when James turned 2, and the rest of the family picked it up). Genghis was pinned to him because his great-grandfather had been a member of the original Smithsonian expeditions to Mongolia at the beginning of the 20th century. At age 32, he was becoming something of an adventurer himself, though he wouldn't admit to it. On his last expedition, the story he would repeat to others with a certain amount of pride was the discovery of a reference in a secluded Hungarian monastery to a 14th century tome that suggested the existence of an undiscovered Roman settlement on the Crimean peninsula. What was inconsequential to him (and would have been more exciting to his listeners) would have been the run in he had with artifact smugglers on the Austrian-Hungarian which he escaped from with his life as well as a few pre-Christian Roman artifacts which he turned over to the grateful Italian authorities. In many ways, G. James O'Brien was a modern day Indiana Jones who hadn't learned that denial just isn't the name of a river in Egypt.

Currently, Genghis James O'Brien was storming into the office of his supervisor with all the grace of his namesake. His immediate superior, Daniel Mayo, remained stonily silent in the face of this storm. Danny would have remained stoic if the current Genghis had had a real horde behind him.

"Danny, it's not fair. I've almost got those permits lined up. The site is pristine. Untouched! Most of what we know about the Celtic sacking of Rome is pure legend. They're the last people to sack Rome before the rise of the Roman Republic and then the Roman Empire. Why do I need to go to some little Podunk high school and play nursery maid?"

Danny looked Jimmy O'Brien up and down. He was 6' 3", rugged good looks with a long thin scar running across his jaw line. He was athletic, with dark hair and green eyes that sparkled with mischief when he was in a good mood and buying the round. Now, though, Jimmy's eyes were as hard as flint. Those big hands of his hands, which could handle a pottery fragment with meticulous gentleness, were in a hard grip on the edge of Danny's desk, as if by force of will Jimmy could make Danny supersede the Foundation's policy just this once. Not a chance. Daniel Mayo was The Original Unmovable Object.