The Midas Trap

by Sharron McClellan

  They reached the kitchen, and she took a seat at the same small cherry-wood table she’d sat at for so many years.

  He set his cane on the countertop and patted his thigh. “Broken in three places.” Opening a cupboard, he took out two mugs. “Never healed quite right.” Settling into the chair across from her with a small grunt of pain, he handed her one of the mugs. “Black?”

  “You remembered,” she said, pleased.

  “You were my favorite student. Of course I remembered.”

  She warmed at the words. She’d met Joseph her first day on campus. She flushed, remembering her know-it-all attitude and the way she’d dismissed the other students’ opinions when they argued over prehistoric Greece. All the other archaeological graduate students had had field experience, but she’d lived the archeological life. Was steeped in it from the moment she entered the world. Had spent her formative years traveling throughout the Mediterranean while her parents traced ancient trade routes and wrote papers on the mariners’ influence among the cultures that circumvented the turquoise sea.

  The same opportunities that gave her more practical knowledge also gave her a kind of diffident insecurity when it came to social interactions. Her companions growing up were the other team members. Her only true confidant was Alyssa.

  Granted, there were some summers when hers and Michael’s parents partnered for a project and she and Alyssa spent their time with Michael. During those hot, sultry summer days, all three spent hours playing in the warm surf, collecting shells and pestering both sets of parents to entertain them.

  It wasn’t until she was fifteen, and she saw Michael for the first time in three years, that they took to leaving Alyssa behind while they walked the white sands, holding hands.

  But other than that, she’d never led the kind of life that most teens did. There were no sleepovers. No groups of girlfriends to discuss the all-important issue of boys. No prom. No first date with her trembling on the stairs while she waited for the doorbell to ring.

  She didn’t own a dress until she was fourteen. Her first kiss was from Michael when she was fifteen. Camping out was a way of life.

  By the time she was eighteen she’d grown interested in pursuing archaeology as a career, and her parents encouraged her interest by giving her lead on a team. When her crew uncovered a temple to Aphrodite on the island of Cyprus, her interest in archaeology became a passion. The site was the best-preserved of its kind, and she fell in love with both the knowledge it imparted and the excitement with making her own find.

  She couldn’t see leaving the field to pursue a traditional college education. Instead, she tested out of most of the core courses, like English and psych, then took the rest through correspondence. She graduated in two years with a B.S. in archaeology, and since she spoke Greek, Turkish, Italian and a smattering of Russian, a minor in languages.

  However, she couldn’t earn her Master’s through correspondence. The day she walked onto the campus of Columbia University was her first real opportunity for interaction with people her own age for a significant length of time.

  She’d been terrified. Scared witless the first day she walked into the white-walled lab and twenty eyes all looked up to greet her. Fearful of not being accepted by her peers, she appeared arrogant rather than friendly.

  By the end of the day, she had met no one and was questioning the wisdom of a traditional education. Then she met with Joseph—her adviser and head of the archaeology department. Years wiser in both practical experience and in social interactions, he’d understood her fear—even if she didn’t—and paired her with Chris on a project. Chris’s extroverted personality and wicked sense of humor soon loosened her up. One day she woke up and realized that she liked graduate school. Her friends. Her new life.

  And they liked her. Respected her. Listened to her.

  She’d never been happier. She liked being a part of something bigger than herself. Enjoyed her classes and the attention her experience gained her.

  It only took one symposium and failed presentation to destroy her hope for proving the impossible and writing her name into the history she loved.

  Her stomach constricted at the memory. She sipped her coffee, content in the silence broken only by the ticking of the clock over the stove.

  Finally, Joseph set his mug down. “I tried to contact you about the funeral, but…” He stopped.

  He didn’t need to finish the thought. They both knew why she didn’t attend the funeral. She’d been on her first assignments as the owner of Discovery Inc.—stuck in the middle of nowhere in Turkey. Contact was limited—even with cell phones.

  A legitimate excuse and one she knew he understood, but it was still an excuse in her heart. Her chest tightened. “I wanted to go,” she replied, her voice coming out softer, sadder, than she intended.

  He continued. “I wanted you to be there. Chris would have wanted it, too.”

  Veronica focused on her hands. “I stopped by the grave when I got back.” She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady. She’d gone in the evening, right when the first stars came out, leaving roses when she walked away an hour later in the dark.

  “Good. He missed you.” He looked down at his feet then back up. “So did I.”

  Why had she waited so long to come here? Now that she was here, any reason seemed foolish. “I know. I missed you both.” She sniffed hard, remembering when she got the news. The pang of regret. The burning desire to celebrate her expartner’s life and mourn his death.

  Even now, she saw him in her thoughts. Thick brown hair. Teeth like those in a toothpaste commercial. If there was a practical joke in progress, Chris was always the mastermind behind it.

  “He knew, Veronica. He was used to your temper and knew that one day, you’d be back.” Joseph patted her hand. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here?”

  Shaking off her sadness, Veronica took another sip of coffee, suddenly nervous and not wanting to tell Joseph about the mouse. Would he tell her, again, that her proof wasn’t enough? Would he be sorry he invited her in? “Someone came to me today offering proof, good proof, that our theory about myths was true.” She blurted the words out before anxiety changed her mind, then held her breath as she waited for his reply.

  Joseph gave a thoughtful grumble. “Tell me more.”

  Veronica breathed a sigh of relief, and the rest of the past fell away while she told her story and he waited with familiar patience.

  When she finished, she put her hands in her lap. There. It was said. She waited for his response.

  “You’ll need more than the mouse. What’s its provenance?”

  Just as she remembered—get to the science. “It was found with a burial, but not of a priestess. No other burial artifacts were located other than part of a codex that mentioned the Eye of Artemis,” she said, and waited for the inevitable reaction.

  “The Eye?” Joseph straightened.

  “Yes,” Veronica assured him, the excitement in the room growing.

  Joseph rose halfway out of his seat, arms braced against the table for support. “Then you know where you have to go.”

  Goose bumps rose on her arms. It was like old times. They were almost reading each other’s thoughts. She knew where this was going. Where it had to go. “Back to the Vatican to get the other half of the codex.”

  He nodded in agreement and lowered himself back into his chair. “It won’t be easy. The Vatican officials didn’t want you to read it before. I doubt much has changed.” He tapped his cane against his leg. “I wish I were going with you.”

  Veronica took his hand in hers. He was smart. Her mentor. She wanted his advice and his company. “Then come. This is as much your mission as it is mine.”

  “I’d slow you down.” He squeezed her hand with surprising strength. “I suspect you’re going to need your wits about you for this trip.”

  Veronica squeezed back. His hand was cool, and his skin was thin with age beneath her fingertips. She hated to adm
it it, but he was right.

  Joseph continued. “I’m too old for this kind of adventure, but not too old to dream. If the Midas Stone is real, find it. Prove that we were right.”

  “I will.” She shut her eyes, remembering Chris’s headstone. Husband. Father. Adventurer. Now on to the greatest journey of them all. “For all of us.”

  Chapter 4

  “It’s a hoax.” Alyssa handed Veronica a thick plastic folder, her face impassive.

  Veronica stared at her sister, stunned into silence. It was Saturday afternoon, and after two days of restless waiting, Alyssa had called, telling her that her analysis was complete.

  Two days of barely contained impatience, hoping and praying that the mouse was real and she’d be on her way to offering the archaeological community irrefutable proof that her myth theory was fact. The waiting would not have been as nerve-racking if she were the type of woman who went out with friends. Shopped. Or even did the “brunch” thing.

  But she wasn’t. Her sister was her best friend, and she couldn’t pester her since she was doing the analysis.

  Everyone else either fell into the co-worker or employee category. Besides, when she was this antsy, she knew she was horrible company.

  So it was two days of work, hit the gym and gun range in a vain attempt to relieve her mounting tension, return to her apartment in Chelsea, watch a few movies, and then back to work.

  All that, just to be told the mouse wasn’t real? The revelation stunned her. “What do you mean it’s a hoax?” she asked, her voice cracking as she tried to wrap her thoughts around what her sister was telling her.

  Alyssa reached out, her fingers smooth and cool as they touched Veronica’s shoulder in sympathy. “It wasn’t alive. It’s a beautiful statue. I don’t deny that. But that’s all it is. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  Veronica jerked away. Her hands shook as she undid the metal clasp that held the folder closed. Alyssa had to be wrong. Had to be.

  But a tiny voice in the back of her mind reminded her that Alyssa was never wrong. Not when it came to hard science.

  The report was a quarter-inch thick. Veronica flipped through the pages until she found the imaging scans and density tests.

  The mouse was solid. Not even a hint of texture that might indicate internal organs. According to Alyssa’s notes, it was smelted then carved. Her sister was right. It was a beautiful statue. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Veronica set the folder down, fighting the urge to fling it across the room. The find of a lifetime, and it wasn’t real. Disappointment overwhelmed her, making her tired. Making her angry.

  She massaged her forehead, feeling as lost as when she separated from Joseph and Chris and founded Discovery Inc. “Is it at least real gold?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks,” Veronica replied, tempted to keep the tiny statue as payback to Simon for leading her on. But it wasn’t in her. She worked her hand to the back of her neck, rubbing the stiff muscles.

  Alyssa laid a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? You look a little green.”

  Veronica shrugged her off, as the lab suddenly became too small and the smell of disinfectant too strong. “All I wanted was a chance,” she murmured, holding her anger in check. “Why would Simon even agree to give me the mouse knowing that any tests I ran would prove it a hoax?”

  “He might not have known,” Alyssa offered, glancing at the door behind Veronica and then back again. “Perhaps someone played a joke, not realizing how far it would go. If they confessed now, well, I doubt they would. Or perhaps he was buying time and thought he’d get the Eye from you while you waited.”

  “He can’t.” Veronica ran a hand over her forehead. She felt flushed. Hot. “Joseph and I are the only archaeologists who know where the book is that shows the Eye. And I found that by accident.”

  She held the mouse in her palm. Perhaps Simon would be as disappointed as she was—not that it made a difference. “The chance to do something great. Prove something to the world. And it’s not real.”

  “I know you’re disappointed, but there will be other chances. Other opportunities,” Alyssa consoled.

  For me? Maybe. But not for Joseph and Chris. Her stomach flipped at the thought of letting them down.

  She should have waited until after Alyssa ran her test to speak to Joseph. Now she’d have to break the bad news to him. “Damn.”

  Setting the mouse back down, Veronica picked up the folder again. Who would do this? Lead people on? A glimmer of anger flickered again, and this time she grasped it with a fierce determination. Anger she could deal with. It was straightforward. Strong. The disappointment made her weak.

  She couldn’t take feeling weak.

  Alyssa took the folder from her, flipped it closed and twisted the metal clasp, sealing it and shoving it in a drawer. “Let it go. It was dangerous, anyway.”

  Veronica eyed the evidence with contempt. “I can’t. At the very least, I’m taking the evidence, or lack of it, to Simon and getting to the bottom of this.”

  “Why bother? This is his problem now.” Alyssa retrieved her cell phone from a drawer. “I’ll call the courier. Let’s get this over with and get on with our lives.”

  Veronica took the phone from her. “No. I have to do this.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “Yes. I do,” Veronica replied. If Simon had set her up, he’d pay.

  Alyssa tried to snatch the phone from Veronica’s grasp.

  Taller by five inches, Veronica held the phone out of her sister’s reach.

  Alyssa made a halfheated jump, then flopped into her chair, eyes narrowed and legs bouncing with agitation. “Why do you have to do this? Act like a child?” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “Just walk away. Let it go, for pity’s sake.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Veronica snapped. “Why do you care if I personally want to tell him to take his mouse and stuff it? He came to me. It’s not like he can hide…?” Veronica paused, staring at her sister. For a moment, she was ten again and Alyssa was seven. Alyssa had taken her favorite doll, denying the theft. The entire time she denied the theft, she’d twisted her long hair around her finger.

  She’d always done that when she was caught in a lie or when she was trying to hide something. Most people wouldn’t even catch something so minuscule and common, but she wasn’t just anybody. She was Alyssa’s sister, and she knew the signs.

  Alyssa captured another strand and wound it around her finger.

  Veronica froze. Someone was hiding something and it wasn’t Simon. “What are you not telling me?”

  “Isn’t it clear?” Alyssa replied, her tone defensive. “This is a waste of your time. Let it go.” Her eyes skated across Veronica’s face, then she glanced away and out the window.

  Veronica frowned. When Alyssa had taken the doll, Veronica had sat on her, pinning her to the ground until she confessed the theft and returned the doll.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that now.

  She pressed her lips together, reining in her rising anger to a manageable level. “You always did suck at lying. Now, tell me what’s going on. What have you done?”

  Alyssa focused on the folder in Veronica’s hand, her green eyes dark with guilt and a sharp anger of their own. “Nothing you wouldn’t do if you thought it was for your own good.”

  The urge to shout rose in Veronica’s throat. She held back. This was Alyssa. Family. She set the cell phone down before she flung it at her sister and waited, her hands clenching the file so tightly it crumpled in her hands.

  Cheeks blazing red, Alyssa opened her desk drawer and shoved a thin folder toward Veronica. “Here. These are the real results.”

  Neck muscles screaming with unreleased tension, Veronica threw the false file to the floor and jerked the new file from Alyssa’s hands. She flipped it open. Familiar images greeted her. A tiny heart. A tiny brain. All solid gold.

  The attached density test confirmed the findings.


  It was true. The mouse was once alive.

  The Midas Stone might be real. An artifact from the past that had the power to transmute living tissue into metal.

  Her knees suddenly weak, she sunk down onto one of the backless, chrome lab chairs. All she could do was gape at the proof and know that from this moment forward, her life might change, forever.

  “Happy now?”

  “Very.” Veronica nodded, knowing she was grinning like an idiot and not caring.

  “Good for you,” Alyssa replied, her jaw tight.

  Veronica stuffed both mouse and file into her backpack and zipped them in. She could scrutinize the details later. Right now, she had a more pressing problem. “Why, Alyssa? Why hide this from me?”

  “It’s not professional jealousy, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She walked over to the window.

  “Jealousy?” Veronica shook her head. Alyssa had the respect of the archaeological community, something she craved for herself, and sometimes that rankled her, but jealousy? She searched her soul. “No. I don’t think that. You want to tell me the reason?”

  “Not really.”

  Walking up behind her sister, she wrapped her arms round her, hugging her close. Alyssa stiffened under her touch. “Come on. Tell me.”

  “Does it matter? You figured out the lie,” she replied, her smaller frame taut.

  Veronica leaned her chin on Alyssa’s shoulder. “Of course it matters. You lied to me, Bobble. You haven’t done that in a long time.”

  She caught a glimpse of Alyssa’s smile at the nickname and felt her sister relax. A little. She backed away, knowing Alyssa would need space now that she was ready to talk.

  “I worry for you,” Alyssa said, breaking the silence. “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

  “Lying to me was not the answer,” Veronica chastised gently.

  “Lying to you was the only answer,” Alyssa countered. “I knew that once you found out the mouse was real, there would be no stopping you from going with Simon. Hell, he could be Simon Legree, the slave trader from Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and you’d go.”