Chapter 1

         Jordan Carmichael opened her office door. Today would be a busy day. She mentally ran through her daily to-do list. Her administrative assistant, Gary, wouldn’t be in for another hour. She placed her briefcase on the floor, and her laptop case on the desk. Jordan frowned at the small package lying on her blotter. She didn’t remember leaving anything there when she went home last evening. Ten minutes later, with her customary cup of hot chocolate in hand, she sat at her desk and flipped open her laptop. She gazed once again at the small package on her desk. Curiosity had her opening it before starting her work.
         Jordan looked at the return address on the outside of the package. Her clear green eyes narrowed in thought. Her old mythology professor at Yale sent her this unknown package. This was unusual she thought as she ripped open the packaging. Inside were a letter and a small, leather-bound notebook. The book was small, but thick with yellowing pages. There was no identification on the cover, and it looked as if it was about a hundred years old. Her heart began to beat faster. Could this be it? A mixture of excitement and fear coursed through her veins. Her hands began to tremble. She didn’t think she would be able to open the book. She picked up the typewritten letter that accompanied it.
         When her assistant entered the office an hour later, he was shocked to find his boss sitting at her desk, ashen faced. “Dr. Carmichael,” he rushed into her inner office, “is everything alright?” In the two years he worked for Jordan Carmichael, archeologist, he had never seen her look like this. All of the blood seemed to have drained out of her.
         Jordan didn’t appear to have heard him speak. She stared unblinking at the letter in her hand. Disbelief coursed through her as she digested the words. For the past four years, Jordan was obsessed with finding The Gold Lady, an artifact that was claimed to have been created by artisans in the time of Alexander the Great. She found a reference to it in a letter from one of Alexander’s generals. The only reference ever made to it. Many of the historical scholars she questioned refuse to believe it ever truly existed.
         Gary repeated his question. Concern laced his voice. Dr. Carmichael was considered by most to be one of the brilliant historical minds in archeology today. She was a genius, attending Yale University at the age of 16, and obtaining her first doctorate at the tender age of 23. Some of the old timers thought her impertinent, and far too interested in experimental, or fringe archeology, subscribing to the notion that conventional archeology should give way to mysticism. He didn’t care about that. He loved working for her, picking her brilliant mind for information. She had a mind like a computer.
         “Good morning Gary,” she finally acknowledged his presence, “How are you?” She turned back to the letter in her hand. Then she remembered he had asked her a question. “Oh, I’m fine. I just got a most interesting package this morning.” She nodded at the book on her desk.
Gary glanced down. “Yes doctor, that came in after you left to give the lecture at Harvard. It was marked personal so I didn’t open it. Just left it on your desk.” He wondered if he had done the right thing. “Was that ok?”
         She glanced up at him. “That was fine. It was just a shock. My professor from college, Dr. Wyatt, just sent me what might be more proof about the existence of The Gold Lady.” Reverence shot through her voice.
         Gary held back a snort. As smart as Dr. Carmichael might be, he thought her obsession with some silly statue quite absurd. The entire time he worked for her, she poured over documents and spoke at length with other historians, and each time had come up empty. Personally, Gary thought this statue didn’t truly exist. No one had ever seen it, it had never been documented in antiquity, and only one person wrote about it, and he definitely went quite mad. However, he wasn’t the great archeologist, so he kept his opinion to himself.
         Bring! Bring! Gary reached for the ringing phone. “Good morning,” he greeted the caller, “thank you for calling Myth and Mythology. This is Gary. How can I help you?” He listened briefly, and then buzzed his boss’s office.
         “Good morning Dr. Wyatt,” Jordan warmly greeted her former professor. “How are you this morning?” She listened for a moment. After the pleasantries had been exchanged, she got down to business. “Dr. Wyatt, I want to thank you for the notebook. I got it this morning. No, I haven’t had a chance to look through it yet. Yes, I truly hope it helps. How much do I owe you for it? Oh, please Dr. Wyatt, let me.”
         The older man laughed over the line. “No, Jordan, you don’t have to pay me for it. You were one of, if not the most, brilliant of my students. Consider this a courtesy amongst colleagues. I really wish you would call me Anthony. All of my friends do.” He finished with another deep laugh.
         Jordan smiled at the sound of his belly laugh. He really was a dear, sweet man. No one looking at him would ever imagine he could be a slave driver to his graduate students. Many of them, Jordan included, called him The Dragon behind his back. She felt a spurt of affection for the man, and relented. “Allright Anthony. Thank you very much, again. Enjoy your camping trip this weekend.” After she hung up, Jordan glanced down at the book in front of her.
         She couldn’t believe he’d found it. The journal of Paul Matthews, one of the most wretched archeologists’s ever to have been born. The man had been unscrupulous and manipulative. But one thing could be said: his greed knew no bounds, and produced some very diligent research. Hopefully he could help her find the gold statue she sought.
         Jordan knew that most in her profession thought her insane. No one truly believed the statue existed. It had been a rumor in th etime of Alexander the Great that he coveted the statue made by the Greeks he conquered. It was rumored to be a likeness of Artemis, and bestowed upon its owner great wealth and power. Well, all that woo-woo stuff was bogus, but she felt sure the Lady existed. Alexander reportedly wouldn’t part with it, and even slept with it by his side. The rumors also spoke of diamonds and emeralds and rubies adorning her body. Jordan didn’t really care about the gems. Or even the fact that she consisted of solid gold. She wanted to own something whose value could not be calculated.