conservative for a woman in her mid-twenties, in Kay’s opinion. There were so many exciting pleasures in life. She paused for a few more seconds. Vicks could definitely chill and have some real fun. Kay reached into her bag and pulled out the second sample of STX, which came in a vial that resembled a perfume sample, then slipped it into the small handbag that was propped against the suitcase. The vial was unremarkable, its contents even less so to the human eye. With a pleased grin, she fetched the spare key from the vase in the wall alcove and locked the door behind her.
Chapter Two
Vicky’s flight from John F. Kennedy International Airport to Athens had been a little over nine hours. She’d settled in very nicely at the hotel in Athens where the rest of the expedition group were staying. The itinerary included a visit to the National Archaeological Museum and the Parthenon during the first two days. Now, on day three, she and the nine other hikers gazed up at the massive craggy facade of Mount Olympus that loomed above the starting point of the trek, mists of cloud swirling around the tallest peaks. Awe-inspiring. Intimidating. Much like the twelve gods themselves, Vicky mused. The lower slopes of the mountain were covered by dense green flora, which thinned toward the summit, exposing their stark, gray rock. The guide had told them that the mountain had formed over 200 million years ago from the bottom of the Aegean.
There would be a few stops en route to the first destination, refuge A, an ascent of about 6,800 feet. The primary destination was the three highest peaks of Olympus. Those who had the ability to conquer these could continue with the lead guide while the rest would stay the night at the refuge and return to town the next day. Vicky’s hiking skills were good, but the trio of summits required climbing knowledge that she lacked, and so she’d forego this final stretch to the throne of the gods.
“Impressive isn’t it?”
The man standing next to her pulled her attention. His name was Jim, which she recalled from the group introduction back in Athens. He was an attractive man in his early forties, leanly muscled, with warm brown eyes.
“Yes, it is. Though I wish I could make it to the top.”
“Have you done any mountain climbing?”
She shook her head and chuckled. “No, I’m not that daring. I’ll be stopping at the refuge.”
He gave her a sensible smile. “Yeah, the last stretch to the top is tough. The guide won’t let anyone without climbing experience go near it.” There was a fleeting hint of disappointment in his eyes but his smile lingered. “The trek to the refuge is a decent challenge and the view from there is stunning.”
Enthusiasm bubbled inside her. “I know. I can’t wait.”
The start of their hike began with a leisurely visit to a 16 th century monastery named after its founder, St. Dionysios. They entered the courtyard through an opening in the original fortress wall surrounding the monastery. Despite the damage inflicted on the building during World War II, the ruins were an architecture of timeless beauty. Vicky felt an instant tranquility as she walked on the cobbled ground and looked around. The wall rose in compact gray stones around parts of the monastery, forming several rows of hollow arches both near the upper and the lower part. Wooden beams supported a balcony for what seemed to be the monk’s quarters. Among the restored sections of the monastery were crumbled, melancholy stones which allowed glimpses of the lush, green slopes of Olympus.
The main building, which housed the church, was constructed of heavy, smooth stone and turrets at each corner, much like a medieval fort. With few minutes remaining, she took pictures of the main building, a stone fountain, and a section of the ruined wall overlooking the mountain. Vicky pulled out her walking sticks and adjusted her backpack as the guide headed out to the worn path that would take them to refuge
Chapter Two
Vicky’s flight from John F. Kennedy International Airport to Athens had been a little over nine hours. She’d settled in very nicely at the hotel in Athens where the rest of the expedition group were staying. The itinerary included a visit to the National Archaeological Museum and the Parthenon during the first two days. Now, on day three, she and the nine other hikers gazed up at the massive craggy facade of Mount Olympus that loomed above the starting point of the trek, mists of cloud swirling around the tallest peaks. Awe-inspiring. Intimidating. Much like the twelve gods themselves, Vicky mused. The lower slopes of the mountain were covered by dense green flora, which thinned toward the summit, exposing their stark, gray rock. The guide had told them that the mountain had formed over 200 million years ago from the bottom of the Aegean.
There would be a few stops en route to the first destination, refuge A, an ascent of about 6,800 feet. The primary destination was the three highest peaks of Olympus. Those who had the ability to conquer these could continue with the lead guide while the rest would stay the night at the refuge and return to town the next day. Vicky’s hiking skills were good, but the trio of summits required climbing knowledge that she lacked, and so she’d forego this final stretch to the throne of the gods.
“Impressive isn’t it?”
The man standing next to her pulled her attention. His name was Jim, which she recalled from the group introduction back in Athens. He was an attractive man in his early forties, leanly muscled, with warm brown eyes.
“Yes, it is. Though I wish I could make it to the top.”
“Have you done any mountain climbing?”
She shook her head and chuckled. “No, I’m not that daring. I’ll be stopping at the refuge.”
He gave her a sensible smile. “Yeah, the last stretch to the top is tough. The guide won’t let anyone without climbing experience go near it.” There was a fleeting hint of disappointment in his eyes but his smile lingered. “The trek to the refuge is a decent challenge and the view from there is stunning.”
Enthusiasm bubbled inside her. “I know. I can’t wait.”
The start of their hike began with a leisurely visit to a 16 th century monastery named after its founder, St. Dionysios. They entered the courtyard through an opening in the original fortress wall surrounding the monastery. Despite the damage inflicted on the building during World War II, the ruins were an architecture of timeless beauty. Vicky felt an instant tranquility as she walked on the cobbled ground and looked around. The wall rose in compact gray stones around parts of the monastery, forming several rows of hollow arches both near the upper and the lower part. Wooden beams supported a balcony for what seemed to be the monk’s quarters. Among the restored sections of the monastery were crumbled, melancholy stones which allowed glimpses of the lush, green slopes of Olympus.
The main building, which housed the church, was constructed of heavy, smooth stone and turrets at each corner, much like a medieval fort. With few minutes remaining, she took pictures of the main building, a stone fountain, and a section of the ruined wall overlooking the mountain. Vicky pulled out her walking sticks and adjusted her backpack as the guide headed out to the worn path that would take them to refuge
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