Eyrie Building
December 11, 1997
3:30 p.m.

	Xanatos stared wearily at the large canvas-wrapped bundle in front of him.  He'd been 
unable to go and view this newest acquisition before the auction, but,  if information he had 
gathered from the Illuminati was correct, it would be worth the one-hundred thousand dollars he 
had paid.  Especially if the myths were true.  
	He could not afford to have the contents damaged by the sip of a careless crowbar.  
Instead, the multibillionaire had Owen cancel his afternoon appointments and, while Fox 
handled Xanatos Enterprises, he and his aide-de-camp began the painstaking business of prying 
open the man-sized, wooden crate.  After more than an hour, they had managed to pry away the 
four panels the made up the walls and ceiling of the box and pull off the Styrofoam padding.  
They were down to the last layer of protection covering the crate's contents.
	"Owen, the scissors!" David Xanatos said dramatically.
	The stoic man handed him the newly sharpened scissors without comment; except to arch 
a blonde eyebrow at his employer's back.
	The Grecian man began sawing at the rope that tied the canvas closed.  It snapped and, 
dropping the rope to the floor, he and Owen carefully removed the heavy cloth.  Xanatos gawked 
at the object that had been hidden beneath.
	"Fascinating," he whispered.  A slow smile spread across his face.  "The gargoyles will 
certainly get a surprise when they see this.  Owen, have this moved to the Great Hall.  Carefully."
	Owen nodded as he folded the canvas.  "Of course, sir."