She was still bent over it when the door to her office creaked. She glanced up, then grabbed the box and took a few steps back. A large crack spread across the middle of her wooden door. Voices on the other side shouted in Turkish, “Kick it again!”

Michael Varyer, one of the most respected museum curators and the head of a presitigious Turkish museum, strode across her office floor. “What…?”

“Give me the box.” He said, his voice sharp. She shook her head. He punched her, hard, in the side of the head, stunning her.

“Let me go!” She kicked him in the leg as hard as she could, and he backed off for a second before hitting her in the ribs, “Someone call the police!”

He grabbed the box and wrenched it away from her, slicing her arm with the sharp edge of the tiled lid. She cried out and lunged at him, bleeding, as he hurried out the door. She clawed at him, tearing his shirt and into his skin. “No! NO!” He hit her again, knocking her back into the office. Her head reeled.

She had to call Rose.