Sun flooded through the curtains. Looking at my watch, I discovered it was already past nine, and hastily rolled out of bed. Following the sound of voices, I wandered out to our large balcony. Brent, Georgia, and Nate were sitting around a cast-iron table covered with food.
“Morning, Nikos,” Georgia mumbled through a mouthful of baklava.
“We left you some coffee,” said Brent, holding up the pot. “Though if you'd been five minutes later...”
I added milk and sugar and downed half a cup, then refilled it.
“I reviewed the video,” said Nate. “At first I thought the recorder had malfunctioned because there was nothing but black for the first 30 seconds.”
“That only lasted 30 seconds?” said Georgia, echoing my thought.
“30.2 seconds. I can’t be more precise than that with the current software.”
“Never mind that,” said Brent. “Was there anything useful?”
“I’m reasonably sure I can extrapolate from the video and where you guys left, to where you need to be standing to land in the palace grounds—there was a treed area, next to a building with a big dome.”
“Perfect!” I said. “That’s probably the Library.”
“There is a problem,” Nate said. “I nearly got arrested for loitering last night. The cop let me off because I was a tourist, but apparently you can’t sit in parked cars after dark. Good thing he didn’t see the equipment in the back, or I wouldn’t be here to tell you about it. I’ll have to drive around the block until I get your signal.”
“That’s not too serious,” I said, “as long as we’re not being chased by a Roman patrol.” Nobody laughed.
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