Golden Chariot

by Chris Karlsen

  “Enough!” Atakan slammed his palm on Refik’s desk. “Donations are not my concern. In the eyes of the Ministry, I alone am responsible for protecting the seal. And, I conduct my cases the way I see fit.”

  Refik threw his hands up. Shaking his head, he turned away, a look of disgust on his face.

  Talat blew smoke rings toward the floor.

  Charlotte’s eyes met Atakan’s as she listened, her expression neutral and non-judgmental. Because of her family, he guessed she understood his position as an investigator.

  He felt a twinge of remorse for losing his temper with his friends. “I have no choice, Refik. Over your displeasure and mine, I will do what I must.”

  “Atakan, it is not my intent to fight you or the Ministry just to be contrary,” Refik said in a conciliatory tone.

  “After I have the information on the emails, we’ll meet again. If the threat of theft exists, I must send the seal to Ankara. If not, we’ll discuss the matter. This is the best compromise I can offer.”

  “That’s a terrible resolution,” Charlotte said, jumping in. “By your own admittance removing it screws up your smuggling case.”

  “I know.” Atakan didn’t need the reminder. “I’m trying to be fair.” Laying a hand on Refik’s shoulder, he said, “If Ankara must take possession, I promise you, I’ll do all I can to have the seal released as soon as possible.”

  “The Ministry has spoken. In the interim, I will store the piece in my private safe.”

  Refik swiveled his chair around and opened a small safe that looked like a file cabinet. Then he removed a first aid kit from this desk and took a square of non-stick gauze pad the size of a man’s handkerchief from it. He wrapped the seal in the pad and placed the bundle into the safe, spun the dial and turned to face the group again.

  “Now, we wait,” Refik said to Atakan.

  Charlotte looked at the two of them. “This is crazy.”

  Atakan didn’t want to hear her criticism.

  “Charlotte--”

  “Atakan, this is a lose-lose deal. Refik doesn’t get the press they need. You don’t get the smugglers. You’re all treating this as a one or the other situation, risk the real seal or risk solving the case,” she continued.

  “You have a better suggestion?”

  “I do. If, and here’s the fly in the ointment, if we’ve got the time to work.”

  “What’s your idea?” She had Atakan’s interest.

  “Make a fake, a decoy seal. One of you has to know an artisan who can make a replica.”

  Atakan hadn’t considered that option. The Ministry frowned on replicas of valued relics floating around. Firat and the Minister himself thought the practice a slippery slope. Atakan agreed with the philosophy. But this case might be an exception since it may lead to an arrest.

  He knew a brilliant forger. Unfortunately, the man was in prison. He put him there. He didn’t think the Director would approve his using a convict to do exactly what he’d arrested the man for.

  “I know someone,” Refik said, “a friend, a jeweler in Bodrum near the old castle. He creates all his own pieces. His workmanship is beautiful. Should we try this?” he asked Atakan.

  “How soon can we get him here?”

  Refik pulled a business card from his wallet. “Let me call him and explain what we need. Charlotte, he’ll want to see the piece,” he said, pressing the shop’s number out on his cell as he read the card. “I’ll get his email and you send him the views of the seal on your computer.”

  “Ready when you are.” She brought the thumbnails back up on her screen.

  Refik exchanged a few pleasantries with the man. From the tone on his end of the conversation, they’d been acquainted for some time. Refik told him he had an urgent matter and needed an artifact replicated immediately. He didn’t go into detail as to why or that it involved a Ministry case.

  “Send the pictures,” Refik told Charlotte.

  Refik stayed on the line while the jeweler appraised the work and time it might entail.

  “He says he can do the job, but he’ll have to close his shop, which is a costly proposition for him,” Refik told Atakan.

  “Tell him, we’ll give him five thousand Lira.”

  Refik asked the jeweler to hold on and covered the phone with his hand. “Atakan, it is tourist season.”

  Atakan spread his hands in a “so what” gesture.

  “A cruise ship comes tomorrow. It’s a good day for sales,” Refik said.

  “I understand. Offer him seven thousand Lira plus whatever more he deems fit for his services...if we approve of the work.”

  Refik told the jeweler the offer. “He agrees.”

  “How soon can he be here?” Atakan asked. “And how long will it take to complete?”

  “Three days if we let him do the work at his studio.”

  Not what Atakan wanted to hear. He thought when the man said he’d close his shop he planned on coming to the camp. “Tell him to hold on for a minute. I have to think about this first.”

  Atakan moved to the window, opened the blinds and gazed out at the scientist divers going about their work. They had no idea about the situation going on inside Refik’s office. He envied them that ignorance. If the emails between Kryianos and Ursula were innocuous, it didn’t mean their intentions were innocent. If the seal was left here and she managed to steal it, he’d be severely disciplined. If he let it be removed to the jewelers and it was stolen, he’d be transferred from the investigative unit, permanently. If he sent it to Ankara, he’d never know what Ursula and Kryianos were up to. He hated the thought. In his gut, he knew something was going on with them.

  “Kharestin,” he mumbled, analyzing his choices.

  Shutting the blinds, he returned to his chair. “If I agree to its removal to Bodrum, one of you must accompany the piece.” His eyes shifted from Refik to Talat.

  “I will go,” Talat volunteered.

  “I’m ordering you to stay with him the entire time it’s in his possession,” Atakan warned. “There can be no deviation from my command. No hotel room for you. No cafes. You must sleep and eat in the studio.”

  “Understood.”

  “Tell him he has two days in his studio, but the final day he’ll spend here.”

  Refik relayed the message.

  “He’s to complete the exterior design work in Bodrum. Before he finishes the entire piece bring him here,” he instructed Talat. “I’m attaching a GPS tracking device to the interior.”

  Refik repeated the order then disconnected. “He said he’ll have to work well into the night to accomplish so much in two days, but he agrees.”

  “Good.”

  “I’d like your permission to retain the real piece in my safe once we have the decoy?” Refik asked.

  “Yes, I will handle any objections from the Director.”

  Atakan turned to Charlotte and raised his glass. “To you.”

  They all drank to her.

  “I told you I know stuff.”

  He groaned silently. In Charlotte speak, it meant another discussion was forthcoming.

  Everything has a price.

  He’d have to find a stronger drink later.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Charlotte gazed at the night sky. Flecks of white blanketed the black in every direction. It was a massive, celestial spill of sugar granules. Earlier, Gerard, the team’s amateur astronomer, had pointed out several constellations to her. He traced their patterns with his finger. Other than the Big Dipper, she still couldn’t identify any. Somehow the ancient sailors managed to navigate by them.

  Atakan joined her on the camp’s dock.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  “Nothing worthwhile.”

  “Too bad. How far back did you go?”

  “I spent the last couple of hours skimming her emails for the past year.” Atakan opened a beer he brought with him.

  “I take she didn’t say anything of interest in her emails to Kryianos.”r />
  “General conversation, days and times to meet, plans, a mention occasionally of the project progress,” he said, taking a swig of the beer.

  “You’ve listened to her calls. Anything there?”

  “No.”

  “What’s the plan since she violated project rules with the photos?”

  “Ignore it. She doesn’t know we know. I wait and watch. She’ll screw up soon.”

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  “Hi,” Charlotte said as she passed Ursula.

  Ursula stood reading the schedule and talking on her cell phone. She turned and snapped her phone shut, cutting off whoever was on the other end.

  “I didn’t see you approach,” Ursula said.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. Shuttle’s here, if you’re diving next.”

  “I’d better go.” Ursula fingered the lid of her phone and stayed where she was.

  Charlotte continued to the women’s quarters suspicious of Ursula’s odd behavior. Normally, she left the cell behind. After entering the dorm, Charlotte hid at the edge of the doorway where Ursula couldn’t see her. She watched her, curious if she’d go straight to the dock, or maybe call Damla for a quick meet first.

  Ursula did neither. She read the posted schedule then walked to the lab. She peered inside from the front and then went to the far side and peered in from that angle. She returned to the front and entered.

  Charlotte’s curiosity spiked. The flaps of the lab tent were tacked up. She tried to see in, but the shadows darkened the interior too much. She couldn’t tell if anyone was working in there when Ursula entered. She was tempted to walk in on Ursula and surprise her at whatever she was up to.

  Charlotte stepped out the door of the dorm intent on doing that when the screen door to the lab opened. With no time to rush back inside, she dashed to the corner of the building and out of Ursula’s line of sight.

  Ursula’s attention was focused on her cell phone. She moved to a shady spot under a tree and scrolled through whatever information was on her screen. She punched in a number. The conversation was short. After ending the call, she dialed again. She listened for a few seconds and then took the phone from her ear and scrolled through the touch screen display. She quickly found what she searched for and sent the contents. When she finished, she placed another call and had a brief conversation. She closed the phone and walked toward the dock.

  She hadn’t texted and hadn’t talked during that second call. Had she sent the pictures? Atakan would know.

  Charlotte waited until Ursula hopped into the shuttle before she went to the men’s living quarters and knocked.

  “Atakan, can I come in?”

  “Not yet,” Gerard called out to her. “Give me a minute.”

  She stood with her back to the screen door while he dressed.

  “Hi Charlotte,” Gerard said, stepping outside.

  “Hi.”

  “Go on in, Atakan’s alone.”

  Inside, Atakan sat on the side of his bed with his phone to his ear. He raised his hand to her and put a finger to his lips.

  She joined him on the bed while he listened. He stared at the floor the entire time the call lasted. He hit “end”, set the phone down. He stayed quiet for a few seconds before he finally looked up, turning to her.

  Something was wrong. Charlotte had seen many emotions in his eyes over their weeks together, humor, anger, pensiveness, even a touch of melancholy when he spoke of the ancient sailors. This was the first time she saw serious worry and fear. “Atakan, are you all right?”

  “Charlotte--” He said her name in way that could only mean bad news.

  “What’s going on?”

  He hesitated.

  “Whatever it is just tell me.”

  “Ursula called Kryianos a short time ago. She sent him pictures of the lock. The strategy of switching to a substandard one worked.”

  “This is the break you needed.”

  “Let me finish. She asked about you.”

  “Me?”

  “They plan to make the theft look like you did it.”

  “How?”

  “Kryianos is sending someone after you, if not Damla, someone like him. He mentioned a contact in Istanbul. If you disappear at the same time as the seal, suspicion falls on you.”

  “You’d know I didn’t do it.”

  “That’s not the point. The point is you’re in danger. I can’t allow it. I’m sending you away.”

  “I can’t leave. Whoever is coming for me, maybe Damla, maybe not, means other players are involved. To make your case things here have to stay status quo. If you relocate me, they’ll abort their plan.”

  Atakan took both her wrists in his hands.

  “I can see your mind spinning. Do not play detective. You must leave. Go to Bodrum where you’ll be safe while the situation is resolved.”

  It was the same knee jerk reaction Nick would have. Going to Bodrum was out of the question. It screwed up his case and her plans. Any day the team would gain entry to the recessed hold. If she left, she’d miss her chance to be part of the exploration. Getting in there was a make or break opportunity for her theory. She had to stay.

  Yes, there was a risk factor. Atakan wasn’t taking in the whole picture though. The camp was never empty of people. If someone made an attempt to snatch her, one scream would bring help. The Suraya was secure. They couldn’t sneak onto the boat unnoticed. Where or how could they get to her?

  “Atakan, do me the courtesy of talking this out.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  She ignored the comment and went on with her train of thought. “Kryianos only refers to the man here and in Istanbul as a ‘contact.’ It’s also possible he doesn’t know their names.”

  “Collectors work with independent groups. They often employ an anonymous syndicate of men who do the dirty work in smuggling.”

  “Right,” she said, thinking his unit used standard flow charts tracking illegal operations. “Give me a moment.”

  Atakan let her brainstorm. She took that as a good sign. Charlotte continued before he changed his mind.

  “Clearly, this is a sophisticated ring. Arresting Kryianos is still a shot in the dark. You might not discover who else is involved. He doesn’t have to tell you, even if he knows.”

  “True. Communications between the facilitators and collectors is usually limited. The syndicate operatives keep identities to a minimum, not unlike the system used by terrorist cells.”

  “If I leave, your avenue into that syndicate closes.”

  “You will not act as bait. I refuse to allow it.”

  Charlotte explained how safe she was in camp and on the Suraya. “I can’t miss the chance to explore the rest of the hold,” she said. “Atakan, you can’t deny me my possible proof. You know how important this wreck is to me.”

  “No,” he repeated. “You will go.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Charlotte, I ask you to reconsider, please, for my peace of mind.”

  “I’m surrounded by people. These syndicate guys aren’t going to rappel in and take me from my bed.”

  “I can have you deported you know.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “If you’re deported, you’ll never be able to enter Turkey again. Did you know that?”

  He wouldn’t deport her. She knew it, and he knew she knew.

  “I’m staying.”

  “You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever met.”

  His threats and objections had failed. “I am giving in with great reluctance. However, I do make one demand. I want a promise. You’ll swear on your father’s honor to keep this promise--”

  “What about my honor?”

  “The honor of a recalcitrant, stubborn woman who believes in fictional characters.”

  “Hey.”

  “Swear on your father’s honor while you are here, you will never leave camp alone, never. Speak to no one you don’t recognize, n
o villager, no boatman, not even a strange woman.”

  “I swear.”

  “Tell your family the situation. If you were my sister, I’d wish to be advised.”

  “I’m not your sister.” She’d rather he thought of her more as a friend than a sister.

  “Call your family.”

  “That’s the worst thing I could do. They’d all be on the next plane to Turkey, both sets of parents and Nick. It’d be a boondoggle on a major scale. When this is over, I’ll tell them.”

  “Charlotte...”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  He gripped her by the upper arms, like he wanted to shake her. “I don’t know what to do with you. You make me insane.”

  He took a deep breath, sighed, and dropped his hands. “Ekrem was my good friend. I feel the pain of his absence all the time.” Touching a palm to her cheek, he said, “If you are hurt or worse, the loss to me is no less.”

  The admission was unexpected and although she disliked the adjective...she thought it sweet. “Atakan--”

  He put a finger to her lips. “You needed to know.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Selimiye near Bozburun

  Maksym flipped the air conditioner on the car to high. The woman at the rental agency, a homely creature with a mustache, tried to talk him into a Jaguar. He declined, choosing the plain Alfa Romeo sedan instead. At the same time, he reserved a Citroen for Damla to pick up, paying cash for both vehicles.

  Damla was due any time now. They agreed to meet at the rundown BP gas station off the main road. The fewer people who saw Maksym, the better. Dashiell told Kryianos’s woman the Greek investigators suspected him in Ekrem’s killing. The Turkish authorities, advised of the connection, would hunt for him harder than the Greeks. One stay in their prisons left a man changed forever, including him. He couldn’t risk a chance sighting by the Turks.

  Maksym hummed along to the Violent Femmes song, Color Me Once, preening at himself in the rearview mirror. A black car entered his peripheral vision. He glanced sideways then pulled out the ear buds from his MP3 player.

  Damla climbed out of the Citroen and into the passenger seat of the Alfa.

  “You have the phone?”