The Huguenot Thief

by L. K. CLEMENT

  “Adam, you’re in early. I thought our staff meeting was later this morning.”

  “No, no, you’re right. I have a guest waiting to meet you.”

  Kate walked through his assistant’s empty office to a small conference room. The College had managed to shoehorn an antique mahogany table into the space, which had a view of the oak-draped courtyard to make up for its lack of size. A man was standing by the table, looking at her with a slight smile. He was a tall, athletic, studious-looking man with a dark moustache and swept-back hair that blended into graying sideburns. He wore a dark suit and tie, an uncommon uniform in Charleston where the unofficial suit, if a man bothered to wear a suit, was of seersucker.

  “Kate, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Kamal Atay from the University of Istanbul. He has an interesting opportunity for the College.”

  Atay shook hands with Kate in the manner of men who never shake hands with women, his fingertips barely reaching her palm. All three stood until Adam gestured for everyone to sit down. He offered refreshments, but Atay declined. After a polite amount of time discussing Charleston, the College, and other requisite pleasantries, they turned to business.

  Atay spoke fluent English with a distinct British tone. “We have an opportunity for you and the College to participate in a study that involves a Christian archaeological site.” He smiled and waited for a comment. When neither of them spoke, he continued.

  “During an excavation for new housing in the Cappadocia area, a new underground city was found, a city that could rival Derinkuyu. You know of this city?”

  Kate said, “Why don’t you give us a summary?” Adam was a renowned expert in Middle Eastern clay and stone figurines, but she wasn’t sure what he knew about Turkey’s underground cities.

  “Of course,” said Atay. “Derinkuyu is an underground city in the Cappadocia area of Turkey. The inhabitants carved the city out of the area’s soft rock in the eighth century, and at one point, the city housed 20,000 people in eleven levels. There are several such structures in this area, though none so large.”

  Kate had seen a drawing of the city showing its underground cisterns, wine presses, stables, food cellars, and ventilation shafts. It reminded her of the ant farm she had given Sara for her fifth birthday.

  “Were the residents primarily Christian?” asked Adam.

  Atay seemed surprised at the question but answered readily enough. “Not at first, but yes, it did provide refuge for Christians over the centuries while the Muslims moved west from Anatolia.”

  Kate could see that their visitor looked a bit uncomfortable. In violent and bloody battles over several centuries, Muslim tribes had ultimately conquered the Christian Byzantines of Asia Minor, now modern day Turkey. As the Byzantine territory was overrun, its terrified Christian citizens had hidden in these elaborate underground cities in the soft rock.

  Kate said, “Of course all of Cappadocia provided that type of refuge to many, including Christians. And you say a new city has been uncovered?”

  “Yes. The government kept it quiet for some time as it assessed the magnitude of the find. I am involved in one small piece of the project—studying intact codices found buried in a cruciform church. The codices refer to relics held by the Byzantines. I now have the authority to reach out to researchers. I have come to you.”

  Kate said nothing. Codices, or what someone not familiar with terminology would call parchment books, had often been torn apart and the parchment reused. What a find this would be if these codices turned out to have been untouched.

  “Of course, the politics have been difficult, and frankly, we were stopped for a while by the former government. The new government wants to show it is a more international citizen, so the project has been funded. We found three intact codices written in Ancient Greek. The project requires an expert who can translate the Ancient Greek used by the Byzantines and, of course, someone who has a deep knowledge of Christian relics. That is why I came to you.”

  Kate’s expertise in this language was ancillary to her primary field of study, but she was still regarded as an expert in Ancient Greek. It didn’t make sense, though, why he had come to her rather than a scholar who had spent his or her entire career studying the Byzantine Empire.

  “I’m still not sure why you came to me. There are many fine researchers in Europe and the Middle East who not only can translate this type of Greek, but who know the history of relics in the Byzantine Empire quite intimately.”

  Atay was silent for a moment, finally saying, “Dr. Strong, this is very sensitive information. What I am going to tell both of you must be kept confidential, whether the College participates or not.”

  Kate and Adam both nodded their agreement.

  Atay took a breath. “We have had a few researchers reviewing the parchments for some months.” He stopped, and rubbed his moustache with one finger. “The translations indicate that relics sent to France in the thirteenth century may not be what they were claimed to be.”

  What did he mean that the relics weren’t what they claimed to be? The Byzantines had sent some of their most treasured items to various rulers in Europe in return for military protection, or to secure advantageous trade agreements. During most of the Empire’s thousand years of existence, control of relics had been extremely important.

  Helena, mother of Constantine I, the first Christian emperor of the Roman Empire, had discovered the cross Christ had been crucified on, called the True Cross, in Jerusalem around 300 AD. Over time, the cache of religious objects had grown to thousands, and Constantinople’s fame and power expanded with it. Would these parchment books contain new information? Could she be the researcher to uncover new insights? It was clear Atay would share no more unless she and the College agreed to

  participate.

  “I would be honored to be involved in any way possible.”

  Adam said nothing.

  Atay smiled. “We would like for you, Dr. Strong, to be the lead investigator. In two days there is an important meeting in Istanbul with all the sponsors.”

  “Who are the sponsors?” Kate asked.

  “The University, the Turkish Department of Antiquities, and the Orthodox Church.”

  She wondered whom else the committee had tried to enlist as lead investigator. It was likely all other candidates were male. This particular group of sponsors would not endure a woman in this role unless there had been no other choice. She visualized the faces of the sponsors when her name was suggested, and almost laughed.

  “How much time before you need an answer?” asked Adam.

  Dr. Atay said, “I would like for Dr. Strong to return with me this morning. We thought that because the trip is for only three days . . .”

  “You need her in person? You can’t be serious.” Adam said. “Can’t we do this via videoconference? You can email the photographs for Dr. Strong’s review. Surely, you have photographs.”

  Atay sat up straight, apparently offended at the challenge. “I am completely serious. It has taken weeks to arrange all parties to be available. Our sponsors demand an in-person meeting.”

  Adam scraped his chair away from the table. “I will travel to Istanbul and have Kate participate by videoconference.”

  Atay continued, ignoring Adam. “Dr. Strong, I have a private jet waiting to return to Istanbul, and I would like you to be with me on the flight. After our committee’s approval of your participation, which I am certain will be positive, we can proceed with a more structured plan. You will be gone for only three days.”

  Kate sat silent and looked down at her hands. The phrase “chance of a lifetime” popped into her head and with it, a vision of the accolades that would follow. The Vatican might invite her to study their hidden trove of relics, a request long denied. Three days meant she’d be back before spring break so she’d have plenty of time to spend with Sara. This was it! This was her chance to be the
lead for a project that might be vital in the history of Christian relics. Part of her brain was telling her that this kind of opportunity never required an immediate response, but she ignored it.

  Dr. Atay must also know that she was one of the few researchers in the world that had all of the right expertise to manage this project. She had knowledge of French relics and Ancient Greek, and last, though not least important, no affiliation with the Orthodox, the Vatican, or any other group that would try to steer the project in a particular direction. Both men were quiet, the clock in the conference room audibly ticking. Kate raised her head.

  “I’ll do it. Just give me a couple of hours to make arrangements.” She tried to get a read from Adam, but he sat still, not looking at her.

  “Excellent,” said Atay, removing a phone from his jacket. “We can be somewhat flexible, as it is a private aircraft, but we do need to leave before lunch. Istanbul is seven hours ahead, so it will be very early tomorrow morning when we arrive. The flight itself is twelve hours. Here is a phone for you to call me when you are on the way to the airport.”

  Atay handed Kate the phone, and when she looked at it blankly he said, “I’m sorry, I forgot my cell phone, and I had to buy these temporary ones to use while we were here. Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not. I’ll see you very shortly,” said Kate, putting the phone in her pocket.

  Atay stood up. Shaking hands with Adam, he nodded to Kate and quickly left the conference room. She could hear creaking from the old pine floors outside of Adam’s office fading as the visitor walked towards the main staircase.

  Adam began to pace, running his hand through his hair. “Kate, this isn’t like you to agree to go out of town. I’ll go, and you can participate via video. It’s ridiculous that they want you to go all the way to Istanbul for three days.”

  “Don’t you understand the implications of what they are describing? The existence of a Byzantine catalog of relics could be a sensational find. And the fact that some reliquaries might have been fake?” Kate grinned. “What a coup for the College it would be. Adam, be realistic. You can only do so much with videoconference, and I am the expert here. Given the sponsors they have, I’m not surprised they want to meet me.”

  “But you have classes to teach, and then, well, there’s Jack. We also need to discuss any travel with the Dean.”

  “Oh, come on, you can do my classes for a couple of days until spring break starts. I’ll take vacation time so the trip will be personal. We can talk with the Dean when I get back. It will be like your appraisal work, under the radar.”

  She said this casually, but deliberately. Months earlier, Kate had found a document on a printer in her office with Adam’s name at the bottom. When she brought up the document, an appraisal of an Assyrian cylinder seal, to him, Adam explained he was merely providing an expert opinion for a South of Broad estate. Technically, everyone in the department was supposed to review any kind of outside employment with the Dean, but she knew that Adam had not done so, as it would have been discussed in a staff meeting.

  Before Adam could reply, she went on, “I’ll be back before Sara comes home from Clemson. As for Jack, it will be good for both of us to have me gone for a few days.” Kate looked out the window and hoped Adam wouldn’t argue with her. Finally, she heard a long sigh.

  “I’m assuming you’ll talk to Jack?”

  “Of course. He’s at some job site, but I can find him while you make your calls. I’ll check back with you in an hour or so.”

  Adam was already thumbing his phone as he returned to his office. Kate headed to her own small office, walking through the reception area into the hall, mentally making a checklist to review with her graduate assistant.

  Chapter 2

  Adam watched Kate leave. When he was certain she was gone, he shut the door, and punched in a number on his cell. Someone picked up almost immediately.

  “Is your meeting over, Adam?” The voice on the line was calm, and while normally this had soothed Adam’s concerns about their business arrangement, the unhurried voice now made him angry.

  “I thought you told me that Kate would be required only to translate, work that could be done via our teleconference set-up.” Adam tried to breathe, but the next words were just as terse as the first. “You never told me she needed to travel. What in the hell is going on? You need to find somebody else.”

  For a moment, Adam thought the connection was lost. The reply was calm. “Dr. Chalk, you said yourself that she could do the translations very easily and that she would not ask many questions. I even had your visitor fly over to ensure her cooperation. It’s too late for you to be regretful. Besides, this is a quick trip. She will be back in three days. Once she gives her expert opinion, I will send you a check.”

  Pacing his office, Adam could think of nothing to say. Threatening this man might be dangerous for him, and for Kate. He’d been stupid to get involved in this shady scheme. He had, of course, the oldest of motivations—the need for money. Money he had needed when the real estate he bought during the boom went bust.

  It had started innocuously at a party a year ago that a doyenne of Charleston had thrown. This woman introduced him to a man standing on the broad columned porch of her two-hundred-year-old mansion. “Adam, meet Imran Sadat. He and his brother have a wonderful oriental carpet store downtown. You must go there.” She had promptly deserted them to play matchmaker for other guests.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Adam, shaking the man’s hand, whose palm and fingers were hard with callouses. “I am a professor over at the College.”

  Sadat was intense, with dark eyes and eyebrows that looked painted on. His nose was straight and Roman, and with his somewhat tonsured haircut, the man resembled a medieval priest in an Italian sport coat and elegant trousers. When he finally smiled at Adam, his crooked white teeth merely increased the intensity of his presence. Adam felt like a country boy, dressed in his ubiquitous khakis.

  “Yes,” Sadat said, “I know. I’ve been anxious to meet you. I am a principal at an auction house and we are looking for experts in Middle Eastern statuary. I understand you have quite a reputation in this area.”

  Sadat had explained how the auction house was using modern teleconferencing technology, linking multiple locations via large screens that gave attendees the sense that everyone was at the same table. The prospective buyers, the auction house, and the appraiser could speak about an object, discuss its provenance, and its authenticity in one simple session. Adam had been flattered, and agreed to attend one of these events, held in a nondescript office building in Mount Pleasant.

  Indeed, Adam had felt like he was on the bridge of the USS Enterprise, the large screen in front of the conference table showing a prospective buyer and the buyer’s advisor, a retired museum curator. When Sadat asked Adam about a Zebu vase, a humpbacked bull-shaped object from twelfth century BC Iran, the two virtual heads leaned closer to hear the answer, and Adam’s ego took over. He droned on about the damned vase for ten minutes. The meeting adjourned, and Sadat had smiled as he walked with Adam back to the parking lot.

  A check arrived in the mail a week later with a note from Imran Sadat written in a cramped, almost illegible hand. For the last year, every other month or so, Sadat would ask him to participate in such an auction. Adam would give his opinion to the real, but not real, attendees. He reassured himself that this unorthodox way of conducting appraisals was the wave of the future. Surely, there was nothing wrong with this approach. His sanguine attitude ended when he recognized an exquisite gold chariot as the property of the Alexandria Museum, a shoebox-sized treasure from a minor pharaoh’s tomb. After finishing the appraisal, Adam researched the chariot and found that the item was part of a cache stolen from Egypt the year before.

  Adam had called Sadat, “I am done. Please don’t call me.” For six months, the man had left him alone. Then, a week ago, another ca
ll.

  He had picked up the call in his office without looking at the caller ID. “Dr. Chalk here.”

  “Adam, how are you?” asked Sadat.

  “Why are you calling me? I’m done.”

  “I have a one-time, very lucrative job for you. I have a client that requires that parchment books, some codices, be translated from Ancient Greek. I understand your colleague Kate Strong has such expertise. I’ve met her you know; she comes into our store every now and then.”

  This man knew Kate. How did he know she had this expertise? “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

  Sadat laughed. “I could do so of course, but I thought you might want to earn a fee acting as the middleman. Of course, I will be happy to call her direct. Do you happen to have her cell number?”

  If only the tax bill for his remaining rental properties had not been sitting on his desk when Sadat called, Adam might have been able to say no. The bill, arrogantly demanding an amount not commensurate with the value of the dilapidated houses, was late, and if Adam didn’t pay it soon, he’d lose the properties. He was, he had to admit, a sucker for the perceived easy money. He had fallen for the lure of the “get rich via real estate” scheme, and he had fallen for the lure of the “get rich via secret appraisals”.

  He had agreed to arrange a meeting with Kate but never had he thought she would have to leave Charleston.

  He could not let her become involved with a man like Imran Sadat, who at best did business with those in the illegal antiquities business, and at worst was directly involved in thefts from world-renowned museums.

  Adam’s voice was low, but still angry. “Imran, I know that last item you had me appraise—the chariot—was stolen. I want you to stop the flight to Istanbul. Never call me again, or I’ll report you and your little enterprise to the FBI.”