general said quietly. ‘And Paul is the only one who stands the remotest chance of convincing the rest of the Cabinet that we need to dramatically change America’s course and take the rest of the world with us,’ Themison added.
‘Then what do we do? Sit back and hope Paul Dias recovers?’ Posey asked.
‘Hope? Pray, more like,’ Peta said with feeling.
‘Do you want me to fire Eve Até, sir?’ Jake Jefferson suddenly asked.
‘Hell no! We can use her to spread misinformation if we need to. Watch her carefully though, Jake, and be very careful what you say in front of her. And let us continue the way we have been thus far – no sending anything to do with Operation Olympus in any electronic form including email, Twitter, Instagram and phones, cell or otherwise,’ Posey said. ‘In the meantime, we just sit tight and let the FBI do its job.’
‘They might turn up more than we want them to, Mr. President,’ Themison said.
‘That is your bailiwick, Adam. It’s up to you to keep a lid on their investigation. Take a direct interest. Make Kratos report to you daily and keep us posted,’ Posey added unnecessarily.
**
In a private room in one of Washington’s largest hospitals, Ann Dias held her husband’s hand and wept silently. In the following weeks, she would spend many hours in that room hoping, praying, listening, and becoming increasingly distraught by her husband’s seemingly neurotic mutterings.
But she was not alone. Her old friend Mary Themison, wife of the attorney general, was with her literally holding her hand.
‘He’s in a deep coma, Mary, and they have no idea how long...or...or even if my Zeus will come out of it,’ she whispered illogically fearing that she might wake him.
‘Oh, so that is what the initial Z stands for in Paul's name, is it? I have often wondered,’ Mary said hoping that talking about it would somehow help her friend.
Ann smiled a sad yet engaging smile. ‘Oh, that goes back to our early childhood together. Now Paul’s passport just has “Z” period as his middle name. But back then, when we were very young, I said he would always be my god, my Zeus. And so, years later, just before we married, he changed his name to include the Zee.’
‘How romantic!’ Mary exclaimed.
‘Yeah, wasn't it though? And I, of course, reciprocated by putting “D” period after Ann in my name.’
‘Why D?’ Mary asked.
‘I am Demeter.’
Chapter 2
Love: n. the strongest possible feeling of affection for, or attraction to, another person or thing; God.
The author
You may think that what I am about to tell you is grossly exaggerated. I knew Demeter would always be the one for me as soon as I set eyes on her. I was only five at the time, and she, a gorgeous four-year-old. I know, I know, it is far too corny and ridiculous to talk about love at first sight at that age. And yet there was an aura, a spirit, about her that completely and utterly enthralled me, even at that tender age. Back then, she stole my soul as well as my heart and, thankfully, has never given it back. From that very first moment, we have been inseparable; one being incomplete without the other; brother and sister, teenage lovers, husband and wife. Clearly, the inevitability and steadfastness of our union was written.
I am not just talking about looks here. It is undeniable that Demeter's flowing flaxen hair, her bluest of blue eyes, her cute upturned nose, her glorious figure, and her long elegant legs, are all intensely desirable; yet even more so to me is her sharp, penetrating wit, and her insightful intelligence. I could never be without her. I had even followed her to Princeton after graduating from Harvard in the mortal world because that male dominated university wouldn’t take her. I have followed her everywhere since, and I always will; that is also written.
Now I have followed her to Mount Olympus where she has gone to prepare the way. Rising nearly 3000 meters, about 9500 feet, high between Macedonia and Thessalonica, and over 400 kilometers north of Athens, the magnificent Olympus mountain range is home to the gods of a different age, the immortal age, my age.
I was standing in the lobby of a hotel in a small town in the foothills of Olympus. Behind the concierge's desk sat a rather officious, plump little man of distinctly Greek appearance: large nose; dark eyes; thick, arched eyebrows; and dark, heavily greased hair parted in the middle. For some reason, he looked nervous as I approached.
'Would you call a taxi for me, please,' I asked.
'Of course, sir. May I enquire as to your destination?'
'The Pantheon,' I replied, knowing full well that it would completely discombobulate him. It always did with his sort. Unkind of me but fun, and I needed to relax.
'But...but...you can't...I mean...it's dangerous...no one goes there. Ah! You mean the one in Athens?' he asked hopefully.
'No, I mean the one at Mytikas,' I replied.
'You can't, sir, you really can't...no taxi will go there...it’s the Anemoi...they blow them off the mountain,' he said, waving his arms about in protest like a neurotic tarantula.
'Then you had better call for an MHP,' I said, and waited for his reaction.
'An MHP! You must be joking, sir. An MHP?'
'Yes, a Mobile Hermes Pod...'
'Indeed, I do know what an MHP is! I wasn't born yesterday.'
'Then try calling one. Can you do that?' I asked.
'Well, I can try, but they get very angry, if I waste their time. Very angry indeed. They are not available to the general public.'
'Try,' I demanded.
'Very well, sir, if you insist. Dr. Dias, isn't it?'
'You may have more success, if you use the other version of my name.'
'Which is?'
'Zeus.'
His jaw dropped, but he waddled across to a computer without saying another word. I have to hand it to him, he was very cool and quick on the uptake.
When he returned from the computer, he announced rather grandly: 'Your MHP is waiting outside, sir,' as if it were an everyday occurrence.
He didn't seem unduly impressed or surprised but began to lead me towards the heavy oak front door. I put my hand on his shoulder.
'I suggest it might be better if you stay inside,' I said.
He nodded obediently and watched open mouthed as I walked through the oak door without opening it.
Unlike me, the fat little concierge, of course, was not yet ready to leave the mortal world.
**
The MHP delivered me safely and swiftly to the Pantheon, Πάνθειονin
