Abigail shrugged. “I don’t know about a secret society as such; I was thinking more of a group of men entrusted to guard the scroll. Maybe the scroll is being hidden by someone in the Pergamon Blades knife shop.”
This time Riley was quick to speak. “It does make sense,” he said. “If Eymen knew there was a clue or even the scroll itself in Berlin, he wouldn’t have left that piece of paper. As it is, the clues he left do tend to suggest what Abigail is saying. It won’t hurt to look. Turn the car around, Ellis.”
Abigail was surprised Ellis did not object. After a moment, Riley leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder. “Actually, drive to the airport. We’ll swap cars just in case someone’s tracking this one.”
“If we go to the knife shop, how do we make the person trust us?” Abigail said. “If his family’s been guarding the copper scroll for generations, why would he hand it over now?”
“For the same reason Eymen’s widow handed over a clue,” Riley said. “Others are on the track of it now, and it can’t fall into the wrong hands. Obviously, Eymen thought they no longer had sufficient resources to guard the scroll.”
Abigail’s head was spinning. Was she right about that clue? Would it even be worth going to Pergamum and having a look around the Altar of Zeus there? She thought not. What clue could possibly be there? Any graffiti would have been removed by now and people were hardly likely to leave a clue buried under something. No, the more she thought about it, the more she thought she was right.
Her stomach rumbled loudly and she wondered when government agents ever found time to eat.
“We’ll eat soon,” Riley said to nobody in particular.
Abigail was relieved that Ellis hired a new car quickly, and soon afterward, stopped the car in a busy street filled with cafés.
They all piled out and followed Riley into a modern yet cozy café. The marble floors screamed expense. The walls were rendered white, and the unusually shaped ceiling lights cast shadows reminding Abigail of a spaceship. The chairs were yellow, but a red cloth was draped over the back of each chair.
The menu was in English as well as Turkish. Abigail was surprised to see it was a pizza restaurant. Nothing else was on the menu, simply pizzas with seafood, all types of meat including smoked tongue—Abigail was going to avoid that one—pizzas with cheese only, pizzas with vegetables, and even sweet pizzas.
Abigail realized they had chosen a table at the back of the room so they could see outside the window. She noticed all three men glanced surreptitiously out the window from time to time and she was certain Riley kept the road outside in his peripheral vision at all times.
The men ate quickly. Abigail was a slow eater, so did her best to eat faster.
As soon as they were back in the car, Riley said, “The knife shop is next to a Turkish delight shop and a spice shop. We’ll go into every shop on that street and stay in each one for several minutes, to confuse anyone who’s following us.”
Ellis cracked his knuckles. “And if Abigail’s right and this is the person Bulut wanted us to contact, then he might not have the scroll in his possession. He might simply have another clue.”
Abigail had been thinking that, but she hoped it wasn’t true. Despite the fact she had always planned to spend time in Turkey, she had planned it to be on vacation and at a leisurely pace, not running around looking for clues leading to an ancient copper scroll with assassins hard on her tail. Her stomach churned and she wished she hadn’t eaten so quickly. She reached for the bottle of water at her feet and took a few slow sips.
Soon they were driving down the winding streets of Selcuk with Thatcher navigating. Ellis parked the car outside a rug store and they all got out. Abigail did her best to act like a tourist, staring in every window. The first shop they went into was the spice shop.
It smelled delightful. Abigail almost forgot the real reason she was there and looked at the rows of bottles on wooden shelves.
Abigail turned to look at some pink Turkish tea crystals and did a double-take at a man looking on the shelves by the front window. Was he following them? He looked like a man she had seen at the airport earlier when they were getting a different hire car. She quietly pointed him out to Riley.
“Stay here until I get back,” he whispered. His breath was warm against her ear, sending little shivers of electricity down her spine. She did her best to turn her attention to the rows of spices: cardamom, turmeric, and fenugreek.
Before long, Riley was back at her side. “He’s a local man,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
He patted her back briefly. “Don’t be sorry. It’s better to be safe than sorry. Just between us, I don’t think we’ve been followed.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Abigail said, wondering why Riley didn’t sound pleased.
He shook his head ever so slightly. “If we not being followed, it means they know exactly what we’re doing.”
She was about to ask him to clarify when Ellis walked over to them. “Turkish delight next?”
They walked into the Turkish delight shop which doubled as a little café. “Maybe we should sit here and look over the street at the locals, to take in the local culture,” Riley said.
Everyone knew what he meant. They sat down in a booth. Abigail sat next to Riley, who this time had the window seat. Riley ordered for her—Turkish coffee, a small glass of peppermint, and a glass of water as well as some Turkish delight.
“Drink the water first,” Riley suggested. “The Turkish coffee is very thick and strong, and the water makes it taste better. It’s healthier that way too.”
“And the peppermint?”
Riley looked confused. “I have no idea, only that it’s traditional to drink it with Turkish coffee, or it was when I first started coming to Turkey. It’s thick and sugary.”
Abigail had read about this and was keen to try it. The Turkish delight melted in her mouth. It was nothing like the Turkish delight she’d had back home. For a moment, she almost forgot the urgency of her problems. She stared out the window but didn’t see anybody suspicious. Then again, what would someone suspicious look like? Agents would be too well trained to look like mercenaries—they would blend with the locals. Maybe she was looking at a Vortex agent right now. She shuddered at the thought.
Soon the pleasant divergence was over and they walked next door into the knife shop. A bell rang as they walked inside. The man behind the counter looked up, seemingly startled to see them.
“Are you the owner?” Riley asked him.
“This store was my great-grandfather’s,” the man said. “It’s been here for years.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time to beat about the bush,” Riley said. “We’ve come straight from Eymen Bulut’s house.”
A look of fear and something else that Abigail could not identify passed across the man’s face.
“Eymen’s dead,” he spat.
“Yes.”
Riley nodded to Abigail so she supposed she was to mention Jason. “I’m an academic and Professor Jason Hobbs was a good friend of mine,” she told the man. “Eymen Bulut was to meet my friend, Jason, but somebody impersonated him. At the time of the meeting, Jason had already been murdered at the Bodleian Library in Oxford. He was there researching a copper scroll.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “The Dead Sea Scrolls.”
Abigail knew he was trying to throw them off the track or maybe test her to see what she knew.
She shook her head. “No, not 3Q15. This copper scroll was Lydian.” She pulled up the photo of her with Jason Hobbs on her phone once more and showed it to the man.
He took her phone and stared at the image. “I am giving a lecture on Lydia’s relations with the Iron Age Greeks next week,” she said. “Jason Hobbs was doing some research in the same area. That led him to the copper scroll that told of the treasure of Croesus. I think that’s why he was murdered in Oxford.”
The man handed her phone back and she immediately searched f
or the conference website. She handed the phone back to the man. “You can see I am who I say I am. I’m giving that lecture next week. Whoever killed Eymen Bulut impersonated my friend, Jason. We’re sure of it. Mr. Bulut thought he was meeting Jason, but Jason had already been murdered in England.”
She could not help the tear that formed in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. She saw that the man noticed it too. “And who are these men?” he asked her.
“They’re helping me,” she said. “We can’t let the copper scroll fall into the wrong hands, and mercenaries are already after it. Dangerous mercenaries killed Jason and killed your friend, Eymen. They’re after the scroll so they can fund terrorist activities with the treasure.”
“And what of Nehir Bulut?”
“We got her to safety,” Riley said. “She was in danger from the mercenaries.”
The man regarded them with fresh interest. “And are you certain you could keep the scroll safe?” He addressed the question to Abigail.
“I’ll guarantee I will do my best to stop it from falling into the wrong hands,” she said.
Silence hung in the air for what seemed to Abigail like an age. She wondered if the man believed them.
Finally, he spoke. “Eymen said it was no longer safe for us to keep the scroll,” he said. “He did want to give it to Professor Hobbs.”
Abigail caught her breath. So she was right after all. “Do you have it?” she asked breathlessly.
“I do not,” he said. “I’m just the keeper of a clue, I’m afraid. Maybe this clue will lead you to the scroll itself. Maybe it will lead to another clue.”
Abigail could not resist a question. “So are you in some sort of secret society, protecting the scroll?”
The man laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of derision. “No, nothing like that,” he said. “You’ve been watching too many American movies. No, Eymen and I were friends, and I have the next clue, but I don’t know where it will lead. This is all I know.” As if for emphasis, he added, “Eymen and I knew each other, but we didn’t know anyone else who was involved. Eymen had the fake scroll, but I have nothing.”
“Do you want our protection too?” Riley said. “They’ll be coming after you. They could come for you today. Maybe even within the hour.”
The man shook his head. “I can disappear. Some of my trade is not necessarily legal, if you get my meaning.”
Abigail didn’t get his meaning, but she wasn’t about to comment. “I’ll get you what you need,” the man said before disappearing through a back door.
After he was gone a few moments, Abigail wondered if he’d slipped outside and made a run for it, but he returned presently. He handed her an envelope.
It was yellowing, and the edges crumbled when Abigail touched it. She carefully removed the yellowed piece of paper inside and read it before groaning aloud. She had thought the last clue difficult, but this one seemed impossible.
12
SELCUK
‘And he will rule them with a rod of iron, as when earthen pots are broken in pieces, even as I myself have received authority from my Father. And I will give him the morning star.’
Riley took photos of the note with his phone. Abigail handed it back to the man, but he held up both hands, palms outward.
“No! You take it.” With that, he hurried through a door behind the counter and shut it firmly.
“Back to the car,” Riley said.
When they were in the car, Riley instructed Ellis to drive around while they discussed the clue before turning to Abigail. “Any ideas?”
She shook her head. “It’s another quote from Revelation, but that’s all I can tell you. Oh, apart from the fact it’s a message to the church of Thyatira.”
“Thyatira!” Ellis spat. “Where on earth is that?”
“It’s modern day Akhisar, which is probably a Lydian word meaning ‘white castle,’” Abigail told him. “I don’t think it’s far from here.”
“Do you want me to drive there now?” Ellis addressed the question to Riley.
Riley raised one eyebrow at Abigail. “Surely not? We don’t have enough to go on.”
Abigail agreed. “I’m guessing it’s the same type of clue that led us to the man in the knife shop. Here we have iron, clay pots, and a morning star.”
“So, if we put them together, that should be the clue,” Thatcher said.
Abigail nodded. “Hopefully. Maybe it’s referring to another store in Selcuk, one that’s been there a long time.”
For the next few minutes, Thatcher, Riley, and Abigail googled furiously.
“What about this?” Riley said. “Morning Star Ceramics and Silver Gifts.”
“Is that the store name?” Ellis said. “It’s quite a mouthful.”
“No iron is mentioned, but I suppose silver is a metal.”
“It’s a bit of a stretch, if you ask me,” Thatcher said, twisting around to look back at Riley, “but it’s certainly worth checking out. And it’s in Selcuk?”
Riley gave a nod of affirmation and directed Ellis to the store. It was away from the main shopping district. They parked the car and had to continue on foot. The area was paved and seemed in worse condition than several ancient archeological sites Abigail had visited. There was a high brick wall topped with gray stone to her left and a low brick wall with a row of houses made of red brick to the right. It was beautifully picturesque, but she wasn’t there for the scenery.
They walked past several faded blue doors until Riley nodded. “That must be it there.”
The door was shut and the curtains were drawn. “It doesn’t look like it’s open,” Abigail said.
Ellis craned his neck. “There’s an apartment over the shop. Maybe whoever is there is afraid after what happened to Bulut.”
They walked over the shop and knocked. “You call out,” Riley said to Abigail. “You would sound less threatening.”
“What will I say?”
“Tell him you’re a friend of Professor Hobbs who was a friend of Eymen Bulut’s. Say Nehir Bulut sent you here via the knife shop.”
“You want me to say all that?” Abigail said.
Riley nodded. Abigail did as he asked. “Hello? I know you’re closed, but I need to speak with you urgently. I’m Abigail Spencer, a professor of ancient languages, and I was a friend of Professor Jason Hobbs, who was corresponding with Eymen Bulut.”
She was about to say more when the door opened a crack. A man regarded them suspiciously. His face was tanned and filled with deep wrinkles. He wore a look of distrust on his face.
He looked Abigail up and down. “You translate ancient languages?”
“Yes. Did you know Eymen Bulut? He and I had a mutual friend.”
The man did not respond to that, but looked at the other three men. “Who are these people?”
Riley stepped forward and showed him his identification. “We’re from an organization that protects ancient artifacts from falling into the wrong hands,” he said.
The man regarded Riley shrewdly. “I’ve heard of this organization. Come in, quickly.” He waved his hand furiously at them. “Were you followed?”
“No,” Thatcher said. “We were careful.”
It only then occurred to Abigail that she had no clue whether they had been followed, yet she knew Riley, Thatcher, and Ellis would have been watching out the whole time.
The shop was attractively decorated, and filled with pretty jewelry and all sorts of ceramics. It was the type of store Abigail could normally spend hours in. The man ushered them through the store quickly and into a small room to the side. He peeked behind heavy blue curtains over a small window. As the curtains fell aside a little, Abigail saw that the window was covered with iron bars.
He closed the door behind them and locked it. “I know you said you weren’t followed, but I can’t risk it. We can’t be too careful. I can’t be too careful,” he added. “I have security but only for thieves, not for the type of people who are after the scroll
. Anyway, please sit.”
The walls were whitewashed over rudimentary brick, and the dark brown couches looked hard, but when Abigail sat in one she sank down further than she expected. She wondered if it was so old that the springs had broken. Riley sat next to her, while Thatcher and Ellis sat on the other couch.
The man himself sat on a wooden chair which was upholstered with a bright pattern, reminding Abigail of a Persian rug.
There was another rug on the floor, an intricate pattern in shades of red. Abigail noted that there was one other door out of the room. She wondered why she was becoming observant all of a sudden, and figured it was the company she was keeping.
The man came straight to the point. “How did you find me?”
He addressed the question to Abigail. She raised one eyebrow at Riley and he gave a little nod, so she proceeded. “I’m giving a paper soon at a conference on Lydia and Greece in the Iron Age, and a friend of mine, Professor Jason Hobbs, had already published a paper on an ostracon that mentioned part of the Croesus treasure. It was fragmentary…”
The man interrupted her. “I know about that. Forgive me. You can call me Berat.”
Abigail introduced the other men. They all nodded to each other.
“Go on,” Berat said with a wave of his hand.
“Then we heard that Jason Hobbs was murdered in England and after that, someone impersonated him to draw out Eymen Bulut and take the scroll from him.”
“And it was a fake scroll,” he said.
Abigail nodded. “And so we followed the trail here.”
“Through Murat at the knife shop.”
Abigail nodded again, but she was uneasy. The man from the knife shop had said he didn’t know anyone involved with the scroll, apart from Eymen.
“And so what are you going to do when you find the copper scroll?” Berat addressed the question to Riley.
“We’re going to make certain that the treasure doesn’t fall into the wrong hands,” Riley said.
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