The Eye of History - Chapter 3: The Order of Paranormal Antiquities

SANDS POINT, LONG ISLAND - 1924

The sun-dappled lawns of the Galloway estate came into view.  After a long drive through the winding roads of Sands Point, Abigail and Grant were finally within sight of their red-bricked manor.  Even though they were returning to the familiarities of home - the whispering breezes of Long Island Sound, quiet gardens, and tranquil solitude - they still carried the exotic remnants of their most recent adventure with them: the coarse sands of Egypt within the folds of their clothing, scars from the hazards they overcame, and most importantly, the tablet fragment of Thoth.  Gail swaddled it in her satchel and cradled it in her lap.  In her mind, the artifact would not be truly safe until it passed over the threshold of Gallowmere Manor.

The warm bricks of the family estate welcomed them home.  The towering oaks flanking the mansion seemed to wave at them in the salty air.  The house had always been a haven to the Galloways for generations past.  But for Gail, its Georgian Revival architecture was more than just a dwelling; it was a castle straight from Arthurian legend.  Within its walls, she and her brother would be safe from any threat.  Yet, there are some things more sturdy than brick to build a sanctuary upon, and to Gail’s delight, she could see him waiting for them outside.

Standing at the door, tall and imposing, was the family butler - Charlton Church.  His chiseled face and gaunt cheeks were as stoney as ever, yet the Galloway siblings had grown keen at detecting the slightest hints of emotion within the deep wrinkles of his brow.  As they exited the car and ascended the marble steps of the manor, they could tell that Charlton was pleased to see them again.

“Hello Charlie!” said Grant, “Did you miss us?”

“Oh yes, indeed Master Grant,” said Church, “I’ve been counting the minutes until I lay eyes on you again.  In fact, I haven’t left this spot since you first departed.”  There was a slight smirk around Charlton’s lips.  Grant laughed and squared off with his butler.

“Itching for another boxing match, is that it?” he said with a grin.

“Why don’t you rest up first, sir?” said Church, gracefully lowering Grant’s fists, “You’ve had a long trip and I don’t want to knock you senseless.”

“Haha!  Maybe you’re right,” said Grant, “I am a bit tired.  But afterward, I’ll meet you downstairs.”  With that, he hoisted his bags through the door.  Abigail crept up the front steps and embraced Charlie.

“It’s so good to see you, Charlie!” she said.

“Welcome home, Ms. Abigail,” said Church, “Successful endeavor?”

“Oh, more than successful!” said Gail.  She leaned in close and whispered to Charlie. “We found it.  We found what our father had been searching for – the lost tablet of Hermes Trismegistus.” She revealed the emerald fragment from her satchel and carefully placed it in Charlie’s gloved hands.  “Well, a piece of it at least,” she said, “But it affirms what he was researching: Avalon, the nine maidens, Excalibur, everything.”  Church studied the artifact for a good while, his eyes becoming deep pools of memory - bitter and sweet.

“Bless my soul,” he said quietly, “George…you scoundrel.  You really knew what you were talking about, didn’t you?”  He looked up at Gail’s tender face.  She was the spitting image of his beloved friend, not just in appearance but in spirit as well.  “Your father would be very proud of you,” he said.  Gail blushed, holding back her tears.

“Well, hopefully, we can finish what he started,” she said.

With the pleasantries out of the way, they crossed the threshold of Gallowmere Manor.  The interior was aglow from the sun shining through the tall windows, its light shattered by the crystal chandelier into sparkles of rainbow.  The many framed paintings and photos adorning the walls were brightly illuminated.  Images of the past peered down at the Galloways from all directions.

Above the fireplace was a portrait of a woman.  Her eyes were just as vibrant as the Galloway siblings.  Beside her atop the mantlepiece was a framed photograph of a man in a military uniform.  His hair was the same brilliant gold as Gail and Grant's.  As Gail passed these pictures by, she greeted them softly.

“Hey, Mom.  Hey, Dad.  We’re home.”  This serene moment was interrupted by Grant’s heavy footsteps ascending the winding staircase.

“Hey Charlie!” called Grant from above, “Did we make the front page this time?”  Church unfurled a nearby newspaper.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” he said, “However, you are on page four, nestled between two stories about the arrest of the ‘Bobbed Haired Bandit’ and a rabid goose in Central Park.”  Grant jaunted down the stairs, dressed in casual attire.  He took the paper and flipped through it.

“Page four, eh?” He said, “Not bad.  That’s progress.”  He found the story and began to read it aloud.  All the while, Gail situated herself in the library and prepared her work.

“Two unnamed treasure hunters discovered hidden vaults beneath the ruins of the Library of Alexandria.  According to local witnesses, these two made their escape via airplane but not before stealing a motorbike and a chase through the streets by unknown mercenaries.”

“Mercenaries?” said Church, “What can you tell me about them?”

“Not much,” said Grant, “Keen sharpshooters.  Probably ex-military.  One in particular was especially tough.”

“What kind of fellow do you figure he was?”

“Hard to say.  I didn’t get a good look at him, except for his tattoo.”

“Tattoo?” said Church with a raised brow.

“Yeah,” said Grant,” It was a crow stabbed by a spear, I think.  It looked like the kind of souvenir one gets when visiting prison.  That’s all I remember…except for his voice.  His voice was soulless, and his accent was hard to determine.  He was unlike the others.  The language they were speaking, it sounded like, like…” he called out to his sister from across the manor.  “What did it sound like?”

“Italian,” said Gail, not breaking concentration from her studies.

“Right.  Italian.”

“A crow stabbed by a spear,” said Church, thinking out loud, “That sounds familiar.”  Ever since the Galloway siblings were orphaned, Charlie had been their guardian.  Their safety was his prime priority, even more so than being their butler.  Getting to the bottom of who these mysterious grave robbers were was at the forefront of his mind.  But then, he was abruptly brought back to reality when Grant rolled up the newspaper and flicked it playfully against his chest.

“By the way, this article doesn’t mention the crocodiles.  Don’t worry.  I’ll fill you in on that later.”

-------------

The shadows from the windows had shifted.  The day was winding down.  A tinge of orange could be seen against the water of Hempstead Bay beyond the boundary of the Galloway estate.  Hours had passed, but for Gail, it was merely the blink of an eye.  She had entombed herself in a crypt of books, manuscripts, old sheets of parchment, and illuminated text.  The truth of the carvings upon the emerald tablet eluded her.  There was nothing in her resources that could decipher it.

She pillaged nearly every book in the library, stripping the dark mahogany shelves bare.  They lay strewn across the carpeted floor, their dust wafting into the air and dancing across the fleeting rays of sunlight.  Gail was unbothered by the mess.  All of her attention was drawn to the shimmering green tablet.  Its otherworldly translucence ensnared her curiosity.  Its graven surface seemed to call out to her in a silent voice, beckoning her to inquire further…to dive deeper into its mysteries.

It was clear that the young scholar was connected to this artifact in some strange manner.  How else could she have chosen it from three identical chests?  In fact, the entire expedition had been guided by an animating power beyond Gail’s comprehension.  The quest for the location of Avalon, and the singing sword of Arthur, was intertwined with her very spirit…as it was with her father.  She could not resist the desire of investigating this mystery anymore than a bird could resist migrating during winter.  And so, she pressed on even if it meant toiling well into the night.

As Abigail worked tirelessly, the sounds of jabs, hooks, and uppercuts could be heard through the opened french doors leading into the adjacent solarium.  A boxing ring had been set up there, overlooking the gardens and pool.  Grant and Charlie were having a bout in the ring, their leather gloves glistening from sweat.  Gail paid them no mind, even as they grunted loudly, or exchanged cheeky taunts.

“Come on, old man!” Said Grant, moving side to side around his opponent, “Is that all you got?!”

“You shouldn’t talk so much, Master Grant,” said Charlie, “It’s best to conserve your breath.”

Incensed, Grant lunged in with a flurry of jabs and crosses.  Church shielded his face from attack, but the young man continued his onslaught.  He forced the butler back into the corner of the ring with nowhere to escape.  It seemed like a quick and decisive victory for Grant, but then Charlie suddenly sprung forward, driving his knee into his opponent’s stomach.  Stunned by a sickening sensation that washed over him, Grant failed to counter as Charlie twisted his arm and flung him to the ground.  Binding his opponent in place, the older gentleman calmly and carefully applied pressure to Grant’s joints, causing the young pup to yelp for mercy.

“What was that?!” said Grant, slowly rising from the floor, “That’s not boxing!”

“That, Master Grant, was just a few things I learned from the Gurkhas at Gallipoli.”

“That’s cheating, that’s what that is!” said Grant.

“Cheating may be the only way to save you and your sister one day,” said Church, “Now, do you wish to continue or do you need to catch your breath?”

“I’ve got my second wind!” said Grant, leaping to his feet and ready for action.  Church smiled and they resumed their match.

The symbols etched upon the emerald tablet were unlike anything Gail had ever encountered in her studies.  Their designs were complex - some symmetrical and others not - almost mathematical in their construction.  It reminded Gail of Mayan hieroglyphics, yet nothing in her texts linked these two languages together.  Instead, they were more akin to Hermetic symbols or alchemical sigils.  The ambient light of the library mingling with the translucent substance of the tablet caused the glyphs to glow, their magical aura contrasting with their cold geometric nature.

One pictograph, in particular, drew Gail’s gaze to the center of the tablet.  It was a circular design of radial shapes with a pyramid at its heart.  Within the pyramid was an eye.  Gail was entranced by its hypnotic stare.  Whatever this symbol meant, it held the most importance.

“Ow!” said Grant from the other side of the house, “Will you cut that out already?!”

“My apologies, Master Grant,” said Church, “Do try to keep up.”

“Why don’t you show me how it’s done, then?” said Grant.

“Are you sure?” said Charlie, “A moment ago you said it was ‘cheating’”.

“Nevermind what I said, just show me!”

All of this noise was beginning to take its toll on Abigail.  Her eyes were sore from all the reading as well.  She decided to take a brief respite to clear her head.  She circumnavigated the piles of books and made her way to the table.  Half-hidden under several rolled maps was an envelope.  Charlie must’ve left it there for her and her brother to read upon their return.

The tarnished parchment of the letter was odd.  It had no return address; just the word “Galloways” in red ink.  On the reverse side was a wax seal.  Pressed into the wax was the image of a shining pyramid with an eye at its heart.  It looked remarkably similar to the central glyph upon the emerald tablet.  This discovery caused Gail to immediately retrieve a letter opener and break the wax seal.

Inside were two folded pieces of paper.  The first was a letter written in red ink.  The calligraphy was both elegant and haphazard.  Whoever wrote it was clearly someone of refined culture but also someone in a desperate situation.  Gail sat next to the desk lamp and placed the letter under its warm yellow glow.

“Galloways,” began the letter, “You do not know me, yet I am very familiar with you.  Forgive me, for there is much that I wish to reveal to you, but alas I cannot at this time.  I pray my cryptic words will suffice for now, at least until you wish to meet with me in person.  There is much at stake and I need your help.  The world needs your help.  Your father’s work in unlocking the secrets of Avalon and Excalibur was only one part of a greater crusade…a greater mystery.”

These strange red words stung at Abigail’s heart.  How did this person know of her father’s investigations?  She turned towards the solarium, ready to call for Church and have him explain the meaning of this missive.  He was preoccupied with his sparring match, so Gail returned to the letter and continued reading.

“Indeed, there is more to this world than meets the eye.  There are secrets waiting beneath the waves of the sea, buried under the mountains of the earth, or even hidden in the clouds of heaven: remnants of the first people...and the terrible power that they possessed.  Pray that this power is never discovered, for if it is, then our world will be reshaped, as it was many ages ago.”

Gail’s eyes widened.  “Terrible power”?  The image of the fiery sun shining down upon a flaming chalice overtook her mind.  This stranger knew so much.  How?  How was that possible?  She read on.

“If you choose to meet with me, follow the instructions I have left for you in my second letter.  Surely, your knowledge of the arcane will make this a simple challenge.”

Gail observed the second letter.  It too was written in red ink, except it was organized as a riddle.

“Only those who understand the language of the trees may find the way,” it said, “The first step begins in the North, where the Ash and Alder trees stand and beneath the Birch, Gorse, and Oak.  The next step is to the East.  Follow the Silver Fir and Rowan to where the Hazel and Hawthorn bloom.  There, you will see Fir and Alder together as one.”  These words meant nothing to Gail.  Her mind was already swimming from the stranger’s original letter, to which she returned.

“Even though we have never met, I pray for your safety and look forward to the day when we can speak face to face.  Until then, good luck and Godspeed.”

The letter ended with the name “Fisher-King”.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!  Someone was at the door.  Startled, Gail quickly shoved the letter into her pocket and darted into the corner next to the library entrance.  Grant and Charlie ceased their boxing match.  Church quickly marched over to the front door, dabbing sweat away and unfastening his gloves.  Gail listened from around the corner.  It seemed childish to be hiding like that, but the sudden arrival of a visitor after reading such an unsettling letter made the young woman skittish.

The door was opened.  Standing on the white marble steps was a dashing gentleman with dark wavy hair and wearing a blue suit.  Flanking him were two others: a rugged man in a slouch hat and a beautiful woman.

“Good afternoon, sir,” said the man in the blue suit, “This is Gallowmere Manor, correct?”  His British accent sounded familiar to Gail.  Did she hear that voice on the radio before?

“Yes,” answered Charlie, “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we were expecting visitors today.”

“Don’t apologize.  We should have notified you in advance of our arrival.  My name is Dr. Sydney Stirling.”

Upon hearing his name, Gail was overcome with panic.  She backed up suddenly and knocked over a stack of books on her desk.  They tumbled on the floor loudly.  Dr. Stirling peered around Charlie’s shoulder to see what the commotion was about.  Blushing as red as a tomato, Gail collected the books.  She couldn’t believe it.  Dr. Sydney Stirling – the Dr. Sydney Stirling – was at her house.

Anyone who had even a passing interest in archaeology or adventuring was familiar with the exploits of Dr. Stirling.  Newspapers and magazines published stories of his accomplishments regularly.  There was the time he braved the crumbling tunnels of the Temple of the Sun in Teotihuacan.  He also recovered the stolen camels of a Berber tribe in the Sahara, earning himself the title “Hero of the Sands”.  Most recently, he led a daring dogsled rescue of the crew of the Ozymandius - an airship that had crashed in the Arctic Circle.  These feats, among many others, had made him the world’s most famous adventurer and a personal idol of Gail’s for quite some time.  And now, he was there in the flesh.

“Please excuse our abrupt visit,” said Stirling, “I can see that we’ve interrupted you.”

“All is well,” said Charlie, “Please come in.”

The three visitors entered the foyer of the manor.  Grant sauntered over with a towel draped around his shoulders.  Gail followed after him, hiding in her brother’s shadow.  Rather than shrinking in the presence of such a renowned hero, Grant smiled broadly and quickly took Stirling’s hand into his.

“Hello there, doctor!  My name is Grant Galloway.  We’ve read a lot about you in the newspapers.  You uncovered that Magar relic from a Himalayan temple.  Impressive work.”

“Gurung.” whispered Gail.

“What?”

“It was a Gurung relic, not a Magar relic.”

“My mistake,” said Grant, “My sister Abigail knows every detail of your adventures.”  He placed his hand on Stirling’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear, “Some might say she’s a bit obsessed.”  It took all of Gail’s strength to not immediately strangle her brother to death on the foyer floor.  Instead, she smiled awkwardly, her face redder than before.  Stirling chuckled.

“I’m flattered.” He said, extending his hand out to Abigail.

“P-pleased to meet you Dr. Sydney…I mean, Dr. Stirling.” she said.  Feeling the warmth of his hand in hers was a surreal experience.  Funny.  She had braved ancient tombs, boobytraps, ravenous crocodiles, and bloodthirsty mercenaries and yet she could not look Dr. Stirling in the eye.  His moviestar looks were more frightening than any peril she had encountered.

Grant quickly took notice of the woman standing beside Stirling.  She was tall and slender; dressed in purple fabrics that boasted opulence.  Her beauty was striking, so much so that lesser men would cower away in awe of her otherworldly presence.  However, Grant was not a lesser man.

“Who’s your friend?” he said to Stirling while keeping his eyes fixed on the young woman.  Her eyes were upon him as well, studying him from head to toe.  Rather than appear repulsed by his sweatiness, she seemed impressed by his physique.

“Yes, allow me to introduce my associates,” said Stirling, “This is Ms. Vivien Van de Velde.”

“Mr. Galloway,” she said in a sultry voice, extending her hand to him and revealing several diamond rings.  They sparkled brighter than the chandelier above their heads.  Grant, unashamed of his filthiness, confidently took Vivien’s hand and kissed it.

“Ma’am” he said in return.

“Ms. Van de Velde…” said Gail, “As in Van de Velde Enterprises?"

“Indeed, Ms. Galloway,” said Vivien.

“Ms. Van de Velde is one of my most loyal sponsors,” said Stirling, “If it weren’t for her generous contributions to my expeditions, I wouldn’t be here today.”

“You’re a lucky man,” said Grant, sneaking a wink at Vivien.

“And this is Captain Ulysses Lee,” said Stirling, motioning towards the man standing behind him.  The Captain’s broad shoulders and rugged skin made him an intimidating figure despite his short stature.  Silently, he tipped his hat to the Galloways and Church and stood at attention.  Charlie took notice of this man’s demeanor.  Being a veteran of the Great War, he could recognize another veteran fairly quickly.

“Lee is in charge of my security detail,” said Stirling, “You can imagine how dangerous some remote parts of the world can be.”

“Oh, we don’t have to imagine,” said Grant, “We’ve had a sampling of that ourselves lately.”

“No doubt,” said Stirling, “In fact, that’s precisely why we are here.  We heard of your recent escapade in Alexandria.  If we could borrow a few minutes of your time there’s something we would like to discuss with you…a proposition, if you will.”

---------------

The sun was sinking over the watery horizon.  Darkness was slowly draping itself upon the mansion in preparation of what the Galloways and their visitors were about to discuss, like a curtain drawn around a secret meeting.  Inside the manor’s living room, the ticking of the grandfather clock mingled with the crackling of the fireplace.  Wisps of tobacco smoke floated through the air, creating an atmosphere of mystery.  The Galloways sat with anticipation on a sofa as Dr. Stirling stood at the hearth, preparing himself for a serious discourse.

“Due to the nature of what I am about to tell you, I cannot proceed unless you all swear to the utmost form of secrecy,” he said, “Whatever is said in this room cannot leave it, even if you refuse our proposal.”

These words caught the Galloways off guard.  They exchanged puzzled looks.  Gail glanced at Captain Lee, who stood in the darkened doorway with his arms folded across his chest, seemingly guarding the exit.  She felt trapped in her own home.  Nevertheless, she and her brother were greatly intrigued.

“Well doctor, I think my sister and I can keep a secret,” said Grant.

“Very well,” said Stirling, fingering his cigarette, “I will cut straight to the point then.  Our organization has been following your careers as adventurers for quite some time now.  We are impressed and would like to enlist your services.”

“And what is your organization?” asked Grant.

“We work for the League of Nations,” said Stirling, “However, our department is not known to the general public.  We call ourselves the Order of Paranormal Antiquities.

“Paranormal Antiquities?” said Gail.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Stirling, “Our aim is to uncover artifacts of, how do I put this?...potential power.”

“Like the Holy Grail?” said Grant.

“More like…Excalibur,” said Stirling, taking a drag of his cigarette.  Gail leaned forward sharply.

“You’re looking for Excalibur too?” she said, eyes as wide as dinner plates.  Stirling nodded, coughing on smoke.

“Indubitably,” he said, “Your father, George Galloway if I’m not mistaken, was also in search of it.”

“Yes,” said Gail looking up at his photograph upon the mantle, “He believed that the legends of King Arthur were based in historical truth: Avalon, the nine maidens, Excalibur.  However, that’s all they ever were - legends.”

“Until…” said Grant, eager to share the spoils they acquired in Alexandria.

“Until we discovered a mural in the Vaults of Alexandria…and something else too.”  With that, Gail motioned for Church to fetch the tablet from the library.  However, Charlie looked apprehensive about this.  Was it wise to be revealing so much to strangers they just met?

“Are you positive, Ms. Abigail?” he said.

“Yes,” said Gail, flicking her fingers at him to hurry up, “It’s on my desk.”

“Very well then,” said Charlie as he exited the room.  He returned a moment later and carefully placed the tablet on the center table.  Everyone gathered around as Gail unfurled the cloth coverings.  The shimmering emerald illuminated the dark living room.  Vivien was dazzled by it.  She drew closer to examine its grandeur, brushing up against Grant’s shoulder.  Grant didn’t seem to mind.

“We followed the clues of our father’s research,” began Gail, “It drew a connection between Thoth and the Arthurian tales.  Unfortunately, the trail stops here.  Without the rest of the tablet, I’m afraid we won’t be able to find Avalon or Excalibur.”

“I wouldn’t fret about that,” said Stirling, “The path forward will be revealed once all of the puzzle pieces have fallen into place.”  With that, he snapped his fingers.  Lee strode across the room and drew forth a large object from his satchel.  He unwrapped it and set it down on the table next to the Galloway’s artifact.

Abigail drew back in awe.  She cupped her hands over her mouth.  Even Grant looked taken aback.  Before them on the table was a second fragment of the emerald tablet.  It was a larger piece and adorned in more cryptic sigils.  After her initial shock, Gail leaned in and studied the tablet, nearly touching its surface with her nose.  The two pieces fit precisely together, telling a more complete story.

This artistry of the tablet was more advanced than one would expect, for the strange glyphs and sigils were intertwined perfectly with the geometric patterns in a chiseled tapestry.  Images of lightning and fire flanked the sides.  Cresting waves billowed near the bottom.  Rising out of the sea foam was a symbol like a sword piercing a radiant sun.  Excalibur!  Gail’s tongue became numb.

“H-how…this is…what?” she stammered.  Stirling smiled, charmed by the young woman’s enthusiasm.

“This tablet speaks of a land lost to time,” said Stirling, waving his hand over the emerald slab, “An antediluvian civilization more advanced than any in antiquity.  Then one day, it vanished in a great calamity; brought low by its own power.”

“You’re talking about Atlantis,” said Grant.

“Well,” said Stirling, “If you prefer to call it that, then yes.  Atlantis.”  Grant looked unimpressed.  “Is it so hard to believe?” said Stirling, “How many cultures have ancient myths of great floods and lost empires?  Sometimes, myths and history can be two sides of the same coin.”

“So, Excalibur is an Atlantean weapon?” said Gail.

“It’s more than a weapon,” said Stirling, “It’s a tool, one that can create or destroy.”

“That is,” said Vivien, her Dutch accent like a sweet perfume in Grant’s ear, “If you believe in such things.  Regardless, it’s an artifact of paramount importance and it belongs in safe hands.”

“I’d feel safe in your hands,” whispered Grant, leaning in towards Vivien.  She drew back on her cigarette and released the smoke into Grant’s face.

“Yes, I imagine you would,” she said with a smirk.  Stirling rolled his eyes.

As they spoke, Gail continued to soak in the archaic text.  Her gaze was drawn back up to the mysterious eye emblem upon her tablet piece, marking the top of the fuller image.  Everything that transpired below it seemed to be watched by this all-seeing eye.

“What does this symbol mean?” She asked.

“That is the key to finding Excalibur,” said Stirling, “Our researchers call it The Eye of History.”

“Is it some kind of gem?” asked Grant.

“It’s a map,” said Stirling, sauntering over to a large world atlas upon the wall, “According to our findings, Thoth, the holy mage of his people, escaped the destruction of Atlantis with relics of great power.”  As he spoke, he motioned over the Atlantic ocean and then drew his finger east towards Europe and Africa.  “He hid them away in the remnants of his empire until a time when mankind would be wise enough to use them for good rather than evil.  In preparation for that enlightened age, he shared his knowledge with the new civilizations - Sumer, Egypt, Greece, the Celts - and hid The Eye of History as a means of guiding us back to these relics.”

“So if we find the Eye, we find Excalibur?” said Grant.

“And everything else that Thoth squirreled away,” said Vivien, “Who knows how many secrets are out there waiting to be discovered again.”

“There’s just one problem,” said Gail, “We don’t know where the Eye is hidden.”

“As a matter of fact,” began Stirling, “We do.”  He then placed a tack on Iceland.  “My team and I have recently unearthed the entrance to one of these Atlantean outposts on Iceland, under Snaefellsjökull mountain on the Western coast.  This is where Thoth hid The Eye of History; deep within the ruins of the Temple of Thule.”

“That’s marvelous!” Said Grant, “But, if you all have this figured out, why do you need us?”

Dr. Stirling waltzed back to the table and extinguished his cigarette.

“Well, there’s a slight complication,” said Stirling, “We know where the Eye is hidden, we have found the entrance to where it is hidden, but we don’t have the key to this entrance.”

“Don’t tell me,” began Gail, “There’s another fragment to the emerald tablet.”  Stirling nodded.

“The completed tablet will reveal a phrase in the Atlantean language that will open the door to the temple.”

“Lost keys leading to even more lost keys,” said Grant shaking his head, “Well, we wouldn’t want things to be too easy, now would we?”

“This is where you both come in,” said Stirling, removing a photograph from his jacket.  “In addition to your adventuring skills, you seem to have…how do I say this?...knowledge of illicit matters and acquaintances of less-than-reputable standing.”

“We have friends in low places,” said Grant plainly, “It’s okay.  We’re aware.”

“You have friends in low places,” said Gail to her brother.

“Then perhaps you can identify this emblem for us,” said Stirling, placing the picture down on the table next to the emerald slab, “We spotted this ship leaving Istanbul a few days ago.  We believe that the third tablet piece was aboard it.  Incidentally, we believe these may be the fearful fellows you encountered in Alexandria.”

These last words ceased any sense of excitement or joy in the Galloways and replaced it with dread.  Just when they thought they could enjoy a nice reprieve from those brutes, they came barging back into their lives once again.  Now, the Galloways could very well be competing against them again for a prize that could reshape the world.  All the while, Charlie stood by the entrance half-cloaked in shadow and scowled.  None of this information boded well for him.

Grant and Gail hunched over the photograph.  It showed a wooden crate being hoisted by ropes and pulleys onto the deck of a shipping vessel.  Branded into the wooden crate was a dove symbol.  Upon seeing it, Grant snatched up the photo and paced about.

“I take it, it jogs your memory?” asked Stirling.

“It does indeed,” said Grant, “Antonio Dove.”

“Who?” said Vivien.

“Dove is one of the fattest fat cats in New York City,” said Grant, “He owns several ritzy night clubs, but has a few other jobs on the side: bootlegging, gambling, racketeering, extortion…you know, typical New Yorker pastimes.”

“Lovely,” said Vivien.

“And,” continued Grant, handing the photo back to Stirling, “Artifact smuggling.  Word on the street is that Dove fancies himself a collector and rarely parts ways with his prizes.  I’m not sure how much money the League of Nations has in its coffers, but it probably won’t suffice if you’re looking to buy it from him.”

“We weren’t,” said Stirling.  Grant uncorked a bottle of scotch and began pouring glasses.

“I like your style,” he said with a grin, “Don’t worry.  I’ve got a few plans on how we can get it from him.”  As he distributed the glasses, Gail gasped in horror.

“Grant!  Where did you get that?  You know the law.”

“What are you fussing about?” said Grant nonchalantly, “This is just apple juice, sis.  Ain’t that right, Captain?”  Lee said nothing as he took the glass from Grant.  “If you prefer, Gail, I can pour you a glass of milk instead.  Besides, if we’re going to be business partners, we all need to make a proper toast.”

“So, you accept our proposal?” asked Stirling.  Grant filled a shot glass with milk and extended it out to Gail.

“I don’t know, sis,” said Grant, “Do we?”  Gail hesitated for a moment, but was overwhelmed with an animating sense of adventure.  She stepped forward and took the glass from her brother’s hand.

“We can’t leave our father’s work unfinished,” she said proudly, “We accept your proposal, Dr. Stirling!”

“Forgive me,” said Church, stepping out of the shadows, “But, shouldn’t we discuss this first?”

“What’s to discuss?” said Grant, “We’re all in agreement.”

“This decision seems a bit…rash,” said Charlie.  Gail placed her hand on Charlie’s arm.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” she said softly, “Our father would be proud.  At worst, we will help uncover the greatest archaeological find in the history of mankind.  At best, we will prevent a great power from falling into the hands of evil men.”  Church grimaced.

“That’s what concerns me, Ms. Abigail,” he said solemnly, “If Dove’s men were the ones in Alexandria, then you all are walking into danger.”

“Then what do you suppose we do?” asked Grant.  Church stood in silence for a moment before speaking again, his words clear and concise.

“You two wish to fulfill a promise to your father…and so do I,” he then stepped forward and addressed Stirling and company.  “I volunteer for this expedition.”  The Galloways were stunned.

“You can’t be serious?” they said in unison.

“I’m your butler,” said Charlie, “But I’m also your guardian.  I’m coming with you.”

“Splendid!” said Stirling, “The more the merrier.”  With that, everyone raised their glasses above the emerald tablet of Thoth.  A spirit of adventure filled the room.  Everyone’s eyes were aflame with excitement.  A great journey was about to begin.

“Welcome to the Order of Paranormal Antiquities!”