“Nina,” said Philby. “Please, don’t take this personally. Professor Rothschild is right, you know. History and mythology are two different things. Don’t waste your time, your talent, on the wrong one.”

Nina stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “Thanks for the advice, Professor Philby,” she said bitterly, before turning away and exiting, closing the door with a bang.

It took ten minutes of hiding in a stall in the ladies’ rest-room before Nina felt ready to show her face to the world again. Her initial shock had been replaced by a stunned anger. How dare Philby bring her parents into it?

Since the deaths of her mother and father, Philby had been… not a surrogate parental figure, certainly-nobody could replace them-but a supportive presence, a mentor as she rose through academia.

And he’d rejected her. It felt like nothing less than a betrayal.

“Son of a bitch!” she spat, banging a fist against the cubicle wall.

“Dr. Wilde?” said a familiar voice from the next stall. Professor Rothschild.

Shit!

“Uh-no, no speak good English!” Nina gabbled, frantically flinging the door open and hurrying out of the restroom, laptop under her arm. Anger replaced by embarrassment, she soon found herself at the building’s main entrance. The familiar skyline of uptown Manhattan greeted her as she emerged.

Well, now what?

She had refused to consider even the possibility of failure, never mind such a crushing defeat, and was now at a complete loss as to what to do next.

Go home, that was probably the best bet. Eat too much comfort food, get drunk, then worry about the consequences tomorrow.

She walked down the steps to the sidewalk and looked for a cab.

Then as she raised her purse to check that she had enough money, she realized she was being watched.

She looked around. The person-a man-kept his eyes on her for just a moment too long before finding something fascinating to examine across the street. He was leaning against the wall of the university building, a broad figure with very short receding hair, wearing jeans and a well-worn black leather jacket. His flat nose looked to have been broken more than once. While he wasn’t much taller than Nina herself, no more than five eight, his muscular build indicated considerable strength-and there was an indefinable hint of danger in his square face that suggested he would have little hesitation in using it.

Living in New York, Nina was no stranger to threatening-looking characters, but there was something about this one that made her nervous. She looked up the street at the approaching traffic, but kept the man in the corner of her vision.

Sure enough, he was watching her again. Even though it was rush hour on a busy street, Nina couldn’t help but feel a twinge of worry.

She waved an arm with considerably more vigor than necessary to flag an approaching cab down, relieved when it pulled over. As she got in and gave her destination, she looked out of the rear window. The man-she guessed he was in his midthirties, but the coarseness of his features made it hard to tell exactly-stared back, his head turning to follow her as the cab set off… then was blocked from sight by a bus. She let out a relieved breath.

So, a stalker, humiliation and dismal failure. She slumped in the seat. “What a crappy day.”

Once at home in her small but cozy apartment in the East Village, Nina decided to follow at least part of her instincts and make a start on the comfort food.

Armed with a huge bag of potato chips and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, she went into the living room, glancing at the answering machine as she passed. No messages. No surprise.

She let down her hair, then huddled up on the couch under a large knitted blanket. All she needed to complete the portrait of a sad, lonely loser was a CD of sappy, depressing songs. And maybe three or four cats.

Briefly amused at the thought, she curled her legs up against her chest and opened the bag of chips. Her hand brushed against her pendant.

“Some good luck you were,” she complained, holding it up. Even though the fragment of metal was heavily scuffed, it still shone with an odd reddish gleam when she held it up to the light. The markings on one side-groups of tiny apostrophe-like ticks counting up from one to eight beneath short lines inscribed along its length-stood out clearly. Not for the first time she wondered what they represented, but the answer was as unforthcoming as ever.

Nina almost decided to take off the pendant, figuring that her luck couldn’t get any worse today-but then changed her mind and let it fall back to her chest. No point tempting fate.

She had just crunched the first potato chip in her mouth when the phone rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone to call-who could it be?

“Y’llo,” she mumbled as she answered, still chewing.

“Is this Dr. Nina Wilde?” said a man’s voice.

Great. A salesman.

“Yeah, what?” She stuffed a couple more chips into her mouth, ready to hang up.

“My name’s Jason Starkman, and I work for the Frost Foundation.”

Nina stopped chewing.

The Frost Foundation? Philanthropic work around the world, developing medicines and vaccines, funding all kinds of scientific research…

Including archaeological expeditions.

She gulped down the half-chewed chips. “Um, yes, hello!”

“I was sorry to hear that the university rejected your proposal today,” said Starkman. “That was very shortsighted of them.”

Nina frowned. “How did you know about that?”

“The foundation has friends at the university. Dr. Wilde, I’ll get to the point. Your colleagues may not have been interested in your theory on the location of Atlantis, but we most certainly are. Kristian Frost has personally asked me to contact you and find out if you would be willing to discuss it with him this evening.”

Nina’s heart jumped. Kristian Frost? She couldn’t remember his exact ranking in the list of the world’s richest men, but he was definitely in the top twenty. She forced herself to stay calm. “I’d, ah, I’m sure I’d be willing to discuss it, yes. To what, um, end?”

“To the end of funding a full oceanographic survey expedition to see if your theory is correct, of course.”

“Oh, well, in that case… yes! Yes, definitely willing to discuss it!”

“Excellent. In that case I’ll arrange a car to bring you to the foundation’s New York offices for a meeting and dinner. Will seven o’clock be all right?”

She glanced at the clock on her VCR. Just after five-thirty. An hour and a half to get ready. It would be a rush, but…“Yeah, yeah, I… that’ll be fine, yeah!”

“In that case, I’ll see you then. Oh, and if you can bring your notes, that’ll be a great help. I’m sure Mr. Frost will have lots of questions.”

“No problem, no problem at all,” she spluttered as Starkman hung up. Putting the phone down, she sat still for a moment before kicking off the blanket and letting out a whoop of glee.

Kristian Frost! Not only one of the world’s richest men, but… Well, normally she wasn’t attracted to older guys, but from the pictures she’d seen of him, Kristian Frost could make her change her mind.

Nina lifted her pendant again, then kissed it. “I guess you’re good luck after all!”