This guy isn't going to stop, thought Andreas, nodding again. He turned his head and stared out the window.

'I'm a jeweler.'

Andreas knew the man was just trying to be friendly and he didn't have anything against jewelers – someday he might even need one if he found the right girl. But this cheery nosiness was just the sort of thing he dreaded about being posted to Mykonos. Everyone wanted to know everyone else's business. Andreas turned back to the fellow and, with his most practiced, tired-cop look, said, 'That's nice,' and returned to the window.

The man took the hint and remained silent for the rest of the flight. After they landed and were walking from the plane to the terminal, he offered Andreas his hand, which Andreas shook graciously. 'Enjoy your time here among the gods,' the man said with a smile. 'After all, they were our first tourists.'

And, no doubt, those same gods knew that they wouldn't be the last.

As Andreas waited for his bags he looked around and saw a room full of excited, good-time-ready responsibilities. How would he possibly protect and police fifty thousand locals and visitors with only sixty cops – including the additional twenty-five assigned to him for the tourist season? He shook his head and chuckled aloud. Maybe he could summon a few of those gods from Delos in a pinch.

Outside the terminal he waited for whomever had been assigned to pick him up. The breeze felt good, but after five minutes of pushing his slightly too-long hair out of his eyes and over his forehead, he picked up his briefcase and walked the hundred yards to the police station abutting the airport. It had been relocated there from the center of town a few years before – perhaps to shorten the walk for stranded chiefs. Andreas didn't mind the walk – he ran regularly to keep fit – but he did mind the lack of respect.

The two-story, thick-walled building had the traditional whitewash with blue trim found in Mykonian architecture.