The Last Oracle

.45-caliber pistol from a shoulder holster.

The slight figure of a young woman entered. She was fumbling with her purse, oblivious of the two in the room. She even swiped blindly for the light switch until she seemed to realize two things at once: the lights were already on and a massive mountain of a man had a pistol leveled at her chest.

She squeaked and backed into the jamb, unable to find the doorway in her fright.

Sorry, Kowalski said and shifted his pistol toward the ceiling.

Gray hurried around the befuddled bodyguard. It's all right, ma'am. We're museum security. We're investigating a break-in.

Kowalski pointed his pistol at the shattered vase on the floor. Yeah, someone broke that. He glanced to Gray for confirmation and collaboration as he holstered his weapon.

She clutched her purse to her chest. Her other hand fixed a pair of petite eyeglasses higher on her nose. With her chestnut hair cut in a bob and her small frame, she appeared to be no more than a college sophomore, but from the crinkled pinch of her eyes, bright with suspicion, she was probably a decade older.

Can I see some identification? she asked firmly and kept close to the open doorway.

Gray held up his black I. D. pass. It displayed his picture, along with the presidential seal embossed in gold. I have a number you can call to confirm who we are.

She squinted at the pass and seemed to relax slightly, but a tension remained in her shoulders. She stared around the room. Was anything stolen?

Maybe you can better answer that, Gray said, hoping she could help. I noticed that there seems to be a coin conspicuously missing from the table here.

What? She hurried over, abandoning any hesitation. With one look at the table, her expression fell into a forlorn look. Oh, no we had the collection on loan from the Delphi museum.

Delphi again.

She glanced to the carved dome of rock, the one that seemed to have attracted

Polk's attention. It may have been because Kowalski was leaning on it. Please don't touch that.

Kowalski straightened. He looked at his palm, as if it were to blame. He had the decency to blush around the collar. Sorry.

May I ask what that is? Gray said casually, nodding to the stone.

Her hands wrung together with worry. The prize of the collection. For the upcoming exhibit. Thank God, it wasn't vandalized by the thieves. She circled it to be sure. It's over sixteen hundred years old.

But what is it? Gray pressed.

It's called an omphalos. Which roughly translates as navel. In ancient

Greece, the omphalos was considered to be the point around which the universe turned. There are many mythologies and stories associated with the omphalos, great powers attributed to it.

And how did you acquire it?

She nodded to the table. It came from the same collection as the rest. On loan from the museum at Delphi.

Delphi? Where the Oracle of Delphi had her temple?

She glanced toward Gray, her expression surprised. That's right. The omphalos graced the inner sanctum of the temple. Its most holy chamber.

And this is that stone.

No. Sadly it's only a replica. Until just recently, everyone thought this was the original omphalos, as described in the ancient histories of Plutarch and

Socrates. But the sisterhood of Delphic oracles goes back three millennia, and this stone has been dated to half that age.

What happened to the original?

Lost to history. No one knows.

She straightened and strode over to a smock hung on a peg by the door. Donning it, she removed her museum identification tag from her shirt and fixed it to the smock.

It was only then that Gray noted the tag. It bore her picture and her name beneath it.

POLK, E.

Polk , he read aloud.

Dr. Elizabeth Polk, she said.

A tingle of misgiving iced through Gray. He suddenly knew why the professor had come here. By any chance do you know an Archibald Polk?

She fixed him with a more solid stare. My father? Why?