Byzantine Gold

by Chris Karlsen

  They were alone under the tree while the team members in camp were busy elsewhere. Sliding over on the bench, she peeled the wrapper from the candy bar. Most of the outer layer had melted, but she didn’t care. The form didn’t matter only the rich taste of coconut and chocolate together. She ran a finger across the smeared chocolate on the paper, wasting none of the precious coating before devouring the rest.

  Atakan took her spot in front of the laptop but he wasn’t looking at the screen. His gaze followed the candy action, turning heated as she lifted her finger to her lips and sucked the chocolate off.

  “You’re doing that to make me crazy,” he said.

  “No. If I wanted to make you crazy, I’d do this.” She snagged his index finger and brought it to her mouth. She circled the tip with her tongue. Then drawing the tip in, she sucked in a slow and rhythmic manner, varying the strength.

  She pulled the tip from her mouth but still held onto his finger. He offered no resistance when she used it to swipe more of the chocolate from the wrapper which she licked off. She moved to his middle finger and licked its length top-to-bottom like she would a melting ice cream cone. His breath quickened as she slid her other hand up his chest. Enjoying herself, she teased the wet trail left on his finger with her warm breath and then gnawed the meaty base lightly between her teeth and up to the knuckle. When she peered up, his pupils were wide, his dark brown eyes looked black.

  When she released the trapped finger, he stared like a panther about to pounce. She’d tested his control. Other than a few stolen kisses, they hadn’t shared an intimate encounter for weeks. He didn’t move or speak for a long moment.

  “Wicked woman,” he said at last. “Later, you will see two can play this game.”

  “What a delicious threat.”

  “I don’t threaten,” he warned and turned to read her document.

  “Well?” she asked when he was done.

  “Are you keeping a diary?”

  “No, a journal.”

  She handed him the letter she’d received from the university in Istanbul where she applied to teach archaeology in the off-season.

  “They rejected me,” she said. “Not because I wasn’t qualified. They liked my curriculum vitae but they want published professors.”

  Atakan opened the letter and skimmed the few paragraphs. “I see.” He folded the letter and handed it back. “I gather from this journal, you plan to write an article. You should get Saska to help you.”

  Charlotte coughed, choking on the bite of candy she swallowed the wrong way. “I don’t need Saska’s help,” she managed after washing the bite down with a swig of water.

  Brows furrowed, he gave her a puzzled look as though declining to seek Saska’s advice was ridiculous. “Why not? I’ve read her articles. She’s an excellent journalist. I’m certain she’d be happy to offer you suggestions.”

  “I don’t need her help. I know how to write a paper. Besides, I’m not submitting to a magazine. This is for industry journals, to be read within the archaeological community.”

  “She—”

  “I said no. Jeez, you are so thick sometimes,” Charlotte said, wiping her sticky fingers with a moist towelette.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Forget Saska. As a theoretical article, what’s your opinion?”

  “We don’t have enough to support the pirate angle yet, not to the extent of presenting it as a valid hypothesis. We might find contradictory proof.”

  “I realize its only speculation right now and one of several possibilities.”

  “What happens if you finish the paper and the idea is proven wrong?”

  “Then, I start over and write a different paper.”

  Atakan hit save, closed the file and her laptop.

  “I thought you were happy working at the lab. You like the staff. Why the sudden desire to teach?” he asked.

  Charlotte felt a twinge of guilt when she’d accepted the job at MIAR’s conservation lab in Istanbul. Last year, Jeff, an old crush of hers and Nick’s best friend, asked if she’d consider moving back home to Chicago. He declared his love for her and suggested she take a similar job in one of the city’s colleges.

  The idea of being cooped up in a class or lab didn’t appeal to her. Although, she missed her family and friends, including Jeff, she didn’t want to leave. Worse, she had the painful task of telling Jeff she loved him but wasn’t in love with him. Within months, she’d made a liar of herself and took the MIAR lab position.

  “I like the work better than I expected. I’d prefer to teach though.”

  She didn’t have Atakan’s confidence in a renewed visa approval. After the wreck project, she had a short window of time to obtain permission to legally stay in Turkey.

  “The lab job isn’t unique enough to warrant an extended work visa. At any time, Ankara can tell them to hire a Turkish citizen. The university is permitted to employ foreign teachers for unlimited terms.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “I worry with cause. I sent my paperwork to Ankara in the spring. If everything was in good order, why haven’t I heard?”

  “Is there a government agency anywhere that moves at other than glacial speed? You know the expression, ‘Byzantine Rules.’ It’s Turkey, the origin of all things Byzantine.” He grinned and spread his hands wide, perversely proud they’d given name to a convoluted and confusing system.

  “Forego your concern, there’s a sure solution,” he said.

  Charlotte closed her eyes, counted to ten, and then fixed on him with an icy stare. “Atakan, if you’re going to offer up another of your uniquely romantic-Byzantine marriage proposals-don’t. I swear to God, I will sock you where you sit.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “Hi Case. How you doin? Everything okay?”

  “So far, so good,” Charlotte said, surprised Nick picked up on the first ring. Usually, he waited to see the caller ID readout first.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound it. You were sitting by the phone for a reason. Talk to me.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m riding a beef. I was expecting a call from IAD.”

  There wasn’t much time until her next dive. Nick didn’t get many complaints against him. The worry in his voice regarding this one concerned her. She put the reason for her call aside.

  “What happened?”

  “I knocked the guy next door on his ass.”

  On his last visit, Nick told her and Atakan about the man. His neighbor was a cranky toad who bullied the mousy divorcee who lived on the other side of his house. Nick had jogged by her house after a run. The woman was taking down the bird feeders from her porch. Strange for her. She kept them filled year round, even cleaning the snow away daily in the winter. Curious, he stopped and asked why. She started to cry and said the man yelled at her and demanded she remove the feeders. He didn’t like the many birds they drew, complaining they were dirty and shit on his flowers.

  Nick hung them back up. When she protested, he reassured her. If he says anything to you, tell him they’re staying, and if he doesn’t like it, come and talk to me.

  In Charlotte’s opinion, whatever the jerk did to make Nick sock him was deserved. “Go on.”

  “The douche bag neighbor got nasty with the woman next door again. She did as I said and told him to talk to me. He showed up on my doorstep last week. He started giving me shit and then made the mistake of poking me in the chest with his finger.”

  “And you---poked him in the nose. Let me guess, rather more enthusiastically than he poked you.”

  “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

  Charlotte chuckled. “Sorry for laughing.”

  Nick laughed with her. “It was kind of funny watching his blubber butt rolling around on my porch holding his nose.”

  “Seriously, how much trouble are you in?”

  “Not too bad. The State’s Attorney ruled the incident ‘mutual c
ombat’ and declined to file charges against either of us. I expect I’ll pull a thirty day suspension from the department, no big thing.

  “What about you? Is this just a social call or do you need something?”

  “I have the IP addresses Tischenko used for your techie friend to research.”

  “I thought you’d get them to me sooner.”

  “I’m sorry. I sat on the information trying to decide if I wanted to do this on the QT. Can he still do it?”

  “Sure, although by now Atakan and the Ministry have the results. Why not ask him what they found?”

  “I did, but Atakan avoided a direct answer. I’m sure eventually he’ll tell me. In the meantime, I’d like a second source checking.”

  “Understood,” Nick said. “Case, if Tischenko’s there, the information might be too old to be useful. The time lag gives him a big advantage.”

  “I know. That’s what I’m most afraid of.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Maksym pushed the plate of half-eaten eggs aside and finished his papaya juice.

  “Rana, I’m going to show you pictures of two people. I want you to memorize their faces.”

  He’d spent the first few days after they arrived scouting the camp and surrounding area by car and on foot. He analyzed the distance between the hills and the camp. The shot was doable, but his chance of failure was high. Ada’s presented a better opportunity. It wasn’t the failure factor that ultimately influenced his decision. The more he thought about how to kill Atakan the more determined he was for a face to face confrontation.

  “People here in Cyprus?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will we meet with them while we visit?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

  She’d asked Maksym on the trip over why he never invited guests to the boat. Once more, he told her no one was to come onboard. No one, he emphasized, not trusting the gregarious Rana not to slip and bring back a new friend she met in town. His company alone bored her at times, he knew. He wished he could take her to fun places, show her off and let her strut in her pretty new clothes.

  “No, they won’t visit us,” he said.

  He slid the photos from an envelope and laid them in front of her. He’d taken the first set in Paris from different angles. Vadim and the Dashiell woman leaving the hotel, strolling along the quay by the Seine, and drinking coffee near the Louvre.

  Maksym recalled the day he watched them walking arm in arm by the river and relived the bitterness he felt. Every once in awhile, she’d lean into him, say something, and he’d bend to answer. Their cheeks would touch. At one point, his response made her laugh and she gave him a playful hip bump. The picture of a happy couple to most people, a self-righteous pig and his whore to Maksym.

  He turned the photo from the café around and stared at Charlotte’s face as she sipped from her cup. He’d wasted too much time when he had her prisoner. He should’ve raped her right away. Spread-eagled her face down and taken her again and again, while her screams went ignored, like his were.

  The rest of the photos were from other sources. Two of Charlotte he downloaded from the MIAR newsletter and website. One was of Atakan at a market in Istanbul and another shot of him exiting the Ministry. The last two were excellent full face views. A friend in Istanbul had taken them.

  The attempt in Paris was a bold move. Based on that, Atakan and his superiors would expect another bold act. In all likelihood, they’d expect him to strike again in Istanbul. He appreciated their respect for his daring. Conversely, he was insulted they thought him so stupid as to attempt anything in Istanbul. He was too well-known to the authorities there. Only an idiot would try.

  “If we aren’t joining them, why must I learn their faces?” Rana asked. Her eyes narrowed on Maksym. “You’re not taking me ashore here either, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Why do we go places you cannot be seen?”

  “Damn you and your sniveling—”

  Sharp pain accompanied by a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He slammed his fist on the table as the pain grew worse. Rana gave a little start as a fork bounced off a plate onto the deck. Maksym shut his eyes and sucked in air. The clinic in Kusadasi said it helped to concentrate on a simple action or visualize someplace he liked. He exhaled and focused his mind on his breathing. He counted while he inhaled and exhaled fixed on the measured rhythm. The pain passed and he opened his eyes. The queasiness hung on but the urge to vomit eased after the initial bout.

  “I made a mistake bringing you along. This is why,” he said in a raised voice and struck the table again. “I told you my situation. I cannot be seen, yet you insist on nagging me to go where I cannot.”

  Rana flinched. Eyes wide, her lower lip trembled.

  Enraged, he knocked his chair over as he rose. Her fearful eyes widened further.

  She didn’t have time to react or defend herself. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her hard. “Don’t you cry.”

  She whimpered and a single tear rolled from the corner of one eye.

  Maksym backhanded her hard with a clenched fist. She reeled and would’ve fallen but he still gripped one arm tight. “Now you have a reason to cry,” he said, and then let go of her. He spun and rushed to the rail and vomited over the side.

  “I’m sorry Maksym,” Rana said in a soft voice behind him and sniffled.

  “Shut up. Bring me my medication.”

  When she left, he squatted, doubled over. He fought the renewed pain that twisted his gut and forced himself to take slow breaths of the sea air. He wished to be alone, to crawl into a shady spot and curl into a ball.

  He heard her hurried footsteps on the salon floor, and quickly pulled himself up with the help of the rails. He wouldn’t let Rana see him this weak. Only Evgeniy saw him in the worst episodes, the times his strength failed.

  Rana brought him the medication and a glass of water. Maksym shook out as many of the pills as he dared to take, swallowing all of them with the water.

  “Sit down,” he told her. He stayed by the rail in case he had to vomit. “Study the faces of the couple.”

  “I am.”

  “They live in a camp on Salamis Bay. Later this afternoon, you and Evgeniy will take the zodiac to the beach. There’s a small resort near the camp called Ada’s. Find a table in the restaurant and watch for either of the two.”

  “What do we do, if we see them?”

  “Nothing, just watch. I want to know everything they do, who they talk to, and if they go anywhere else other than back to camp.”

  “Evgeniy can do this. I’d rather stay here with you.”

  Maksym moved from the rail to the table. “Keep testing my patience.”

  Rana shrank back, shoulders hunched to her ears. Still red, her cheekbone where he’d hit her had already begun to swell. She eyed him, wary, and paid close attention to his hands. Black raccoon-like circles of smudged mascara darkened her eye lids and below her bottom lashes.

  “You’re a mess. Go fix your face.”

  After she left, he dropped into the chair. He folded his arms on the table and lay his head down, tired to the bone. At night, sleep came in fits. Each day he awoke more tired than the day before.

  “Here,” Evgeniy set two bottles of water by him and sat.

  “Did you get the Glock?” Maksym asked without raising his head.

  “Yes. This illness...is strange to associate with you. I always pictured you dying in a fiery shootout.”

  Maksym lifted his head and smiled. “I may yet.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Charlotte and Atakan hovered in the back, near the door, and the best source of fresh air. Refik and Talat worked the stoppers from two sealed amphoras. In all likelihood, seawater seeped past the pitch seals and mixed with the original contents. The water helped temper the stench of the decayed matter inside. Charlotte and Atakan knew how potent the odor was even when diluted. If the seals held, it could be eye-popping and they kept their distance. The unini
tiated other team members crowded the table, jostling for space near Refik and Talat.

  Rachel also knew what to expect. Sugar-voiced, she offered her spot next to Talat to Derek. The eager fool accepted. She shot a mischievous grin at Charlotte and joined her and Atakan.

  Saska tried to dissuade Nassor from standing up front.

  “He won’t listen,” Charlotte whispered.

  He flicked a dismissive hand at Saska and stayed close to Refik. She threw her hands up in mock surrender and moved towards the rear.

  “You said if it was wine you’d taste it, Refik,” Atakan prodded.

  “I am. What about you? Are you a lion or a kitten?” he challenged in return.

  Atakan slid behind Charlotte. “My herald. Speak herald.”

  “Meow.”

  “Who here is a lion with me?” Refik asked.

  Derek and his friend Ben both volunteered. Talat turned to Nassor. “Do you roar or meow?”

  “I am a lion.”

  Refik pried the seal on the first amphora. Everyone covered their noses as the foul smelling cloud of decomposed organic matter traveled through the lab.

  Charlotte, Atakan, Rachel and Saska stepped outside and took a few gulps of fresh air. They gave the odor a chance to dissipate and then returned.

  Refik tipped the amphora over a long metal pan with a tightly meshed screen lid. Leakage had occurred around the seal and seawater poured out. The liquid held seeds the mesh caught.

  “Looks like pomegranate seeds,” Refik said and fingered through the stash.

  “Good guess.” Talat measured the mouth of the pot. “The opening is big enough to pass fruit of that size.”

  “We’ll know more after analysis,” Refik said.

  He began the methodical process of breaking the pitch coating on the second amphora. From the slow progress, the seal on the pot appeared it might’ve remained tight. Sweat beaded Refik’s forehead and he paused to wipe his face with a paper towel. At last, he broke through and carefully removed the loosened stopper.

  Another potent stench filled the tent, different than the first. The acrid odor was reminiscent of rancid salad dressing with the sharp bite of vinegar.