Byzantine Gold (6 page)

“Iskender?” Refik asked.

“Yes, if a situation arises and I need assistance, they’ll send a new representative to the Black Sea site he’s working. Once the new man is oriented, Iskender will join me here.”

“That clarifies things. When I saw both your names on the Ministry letter, I was confused,” Talat said.

Atakan insisted he was capable of handling his bags. Talat ignored the protest and loaded Atakan and Charlotte’s cases into the trunk.

Refik drove the coastal route from the airport toward Salamis Bay. The Mediterranean was a sheet of turquoise glass with no wind to disturb the calm surface. Cyprus, like many islands in the region, suffered the occasional summer meltemi winds, but a milder westerly wind blew almost constantly. Today, an unusual balmy breeze came out of the east. The day was comfortably warm. Charlotte rolled down the window, inhaling the salt air. The weather wouldn’t stay pleasant long. By the middle of summer, when the excavation work was heaviest, the temperature would reach over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

“You love the sea, don’t you?” Atakan asked.

“Yes,” Charlotte said and took another deep breath. “I love her moods. She’s unique, unpredictable, and secretive, when she chooses. Sometimes, she’s inviting, often times, she’s terrifying, but she’s always majestic. I smell her freshness, her cool, salt scent and know she’s smelled the same for millennia.”

“A shared appreciation with the ancients is a joy for us archaeologists,” Atakan said.

“You think the sea is a woman?” Talat smiled at Charlotte over his shoulder.

“You think it’s a man?”

He chuckled. “No. As you said, it’s too unpredictable and moody to be a man.”

“You make those qualities sound bad,” she joked back. “As a woman, I say, not so.”

“You’ve never been on the receiving end.”

Atakan and Refik grunted in agreement.

They entered the kokkinokhoria, the
red soil villages
, region. Vast potato fields covered the landscape. Cyprus produced some of the finest in Europe. She loved potatoes...mashed...baked...scalloped, every kind. Her mother made the best mashed potatoes on the planet. She missed them.

As they passed the town of Ayia Napa, Refik turned onto the inland bypass road. In the distance, the many resorts of Protaras blocked their view of the sea.

After driving through the larger town of Famagusta, a roadside billboard advertising Ada’s Resort Village indicated the next exit. Refik turned off at the exit and drove another kilometer. On the right, a stone arch appeared with an Ada’s sign carved and painted blue in the front. He turned into the carpark adjacent to a row of white-washed bungalows.

Ada’s was a local self-catering resort named after the owner’s wife, Refik told them. They unloaded their bags and followed Refik to a bungalow at the far end of the facility.

Individual tables with a mix of straw and canvas umbrellas bordered the path in front of the rooms. At the area closest to the carpark, was an open-sided outdoor restaurant with a wooden roof and small bar.

Refik had reserved a block of rooms for the team. Each bungalow contained tiny kitchenettes with two-burner stoves and mini-refrigerators, and a balcony that overlooked the water. He and Talat had private rooms. The team members already there shared four-person bungalows. Refik booked another private one for Charlotte and Atakan. Once the rest arrived, they’d relocate to the excavation site and construct their camp with men’s and women’s dormitories. Compared to camp life, the self-catering resort was a five-star facility.

#

The next day, the final team members arrived. Refik ordered everyone to meet in the late afternoon for introductions and partner assignments.

Ada’s owner set aside two long, family-style tables for the group. Refik asked Charlotte to sit at one table and asked Rachel Rathburn to sit at the other. Charlotte knew the buxom archaeologist and liked her. They’d worked together the summer before. Rachel was from Miami and one of a handful of Americans on the current team. She was also one of Talat’s former lovers. The surreptitious pat on the ass he gave her when Refik introduced Rachel didn’t go unseen by Charlotte.

“I want an update,” Charlotte whispered as Rachel walked past. “We’ll talk later, in private.”

Rachel smiled and said, “Absolutely.”

Refik introduced Atakan last and explained his position with the Ministry and purpose at the site.

Outside of Refik, Talat and Rachel, Charlotte didn’t know anyone else. Other than the small American contingent, everyone else came from all over Europe. Rachel and Charlotte sat where Refik indicated. Atakan asked one of the Brits to slide over and squeezed in beside Charlotte.

Rachel leaned back in her chair so she was shoulder to shoulder with Charlotte. “I’ll be wanting an update myself,” she said, wiggling her brows, glancing from Charlotte to Atakan and back.

Waiters brought the group snacks in the traditional Cypriot meze style of little plates filled with a variety of local dishes. A steady stream from the kitchen brought dolmas, a stuffed vegetable dish called yemista, fried zucchini and eggplant, hummus, local fruit and baskets of freshly baked bread.

The Americans who’d never tried it, ordered kafenio. She’d tasted it on the plane. The coffee was too sweet for Charlotte’s taste. She loved chocolate candy, custard-filled French pastries, and was mad for Baklava with its honey and nut layers. Not sugary drinks. She hated them. She liked her wine dry, her coffee black, and her soda sugar-free. For lunch, she stuck with her usual, red wine. Atakan and the men drank beer.

The jovial group was excited to get started. Once the people at Charlotte’s table learned of her participation in the previous seasons shipwreck excavation, she was questioned at length about the experience and what they should expect. The divers at Rachel’s table did the same. Refik had anticipated this and asked Charlotte and Rachel to sit apart.

One diver, a quiet young man with a thick beard and mustache Refik introduced as Nassor Jafari, was Egyptian. He sat at the end of the table a little apart from the rest and made no effort to chat.

Refik encouraged him to ask questions and join in on the conversation. Jafari did engage in a brief talk with Talat but soon grew silent again. Charlotte noticed what he lacked in talkativeness he made up for in appetite. His was voracious.

“Are you watching Nassor?” Charlotte asked Atakan in a low voice.

He nodded.

“He attacked the basket of halloumi bread like a starving man.”

“I find his posture interesting,” Atakan said without looking at Nassor.

Charlotte watched him for a moment, unsure what Atakan referred to. Nassor sat hunched with his head down and his shoulders rolled inward. He wrapped one arm around the plate of meat and bread in front of him. He ate with his other hand, gripping the fork like a shovel. Between mouthfuls of food, the fork never left his fist and stayed close to the plate. Coarse table manners for a man who worked closely with various scientists and experts in field operations.

“It’s almost as though he doesn’t trust us, like we’re going to steal his food or something,” she said.

Atakan didn’t respond. He turned to Refik sitting next to him to discuss the extra security needed for the camp. He’d discussed his concerns the night before with Charlotte. Unlike the last wreck site, which was positioned by a secluded cove, this wreck’s proximity to a popular tourist area presented additional security problems.

She’d only seen basic survey photos and a general map of the location. At his office, Atakan had accessed a detailed map and satellite images of the surrounding environment. Before they left Istanbul, he’d checked with the local Cyprus police. There’d been a rash of auto burglaries in the area of Salamis.

Atakan studied photos again the night before in their bungalow and ran some options by Charlotte. Protection of the artifacts and the integrity of the site was his primary concern. Because of the burglary incidents, safety of the equipment presented another new issue. The expensive electronic equipment, the tools, and computers, were easy to sell and fast money makers for thieves.

“We’ll have to build an exterior fence,” Atakan concluded.

“A fence slows a determined thief down, but you’ll still need a guard at the entrance, in my opinion,” Charlotte said.

“It has to be me during the day since I can’t dive.”

“There should be two. You need backup until Iskender arrives. You can’t completely eliminate the possibility Tischenko won’t try another attempt on your life here.”

“Charlotte, I cannot live my life in fear. This is my job. This is what I do. Would you have me hide in the shadows?”

“No. I’m not asking you not to perform your job or suggesting you behave in any way that offends you. That said, you can’t disregard what’s happened. Until he’s caught extra caution is a matter of common sense.”

“I’m allowed to be armed. No one else is. What good is a second man if he’s weaponless?”

“I don’t know. But it can’t hurt,” Charlotte argued back, frustrated with his obstinance.

She listened as Atakan talked logistics. They’d construct Refik’s office where it had an unobstructed view of the camp’s entrance. Atakan would use the office during the day. Refik slept there at night. A light sleeper, he was confident he’d hear anyone attempting to enter.

Charlotte kicked Atakan under the table when he made no mention of a backup during the day. “Ask for a second man,” she whispered.

Atakan ignored her.

When he finished talking with Refik, he turned to Charlotte. “Ow.”

“Why didn’t you ask about another body watching the gate with you?”

“I’m not interfering with Refik’s schedule. Iskender emailed me this morning. He’ll be here in three days. Problem solved. No more kicks needed.”

“Is he allowed a gun too?”

“You’re obsessed with guns, but then you are from Chicago, where all the mafia gangsters run around shooting each other. I’ve seen the movies,” he said with a lopsided grin.

She considered kicking him again.

“Chicago doesn’t hold the patent on gangsters. Putz. Answer my question.”

“Yes, he is coming armed.”

“Good. I have to make a quick call. I’ll be right back.”

She excused herself and returned to their room. She had confidence in the Ministry and their abilities to track down Tischenko,
eventually
. She decided after their talk in the kitchen she’d do whatever possible on her end. Without telling Atakan, she’d contact Nick and asked for his help. He had to know someone who could legally or illegally discover something useful.

Chapter Ten

“Hello,” Nick answered sleepy voiced.

“Nick, it’s me. Did I wake you?” Charlotte asked, checking her watch. It was one o’clock where she was but with the eight hour time difference, five in the morning in Chicago.

“Yeah, but don’t sweat it. I was getting up in an hour anyway. Is everything okay, Case?”

“So far. We’re in Cyprus now.” She filled Nick in on Atakan’s physical improvement and that a fellow Ministry agent was en route to assist him on the site.

“Two’s better than one under the circumstances, especially when one is winged,” Nick said.

“What do you think are the chances of Tischenko attempting another sniper-style attack?”

“Hard to say without my knowing what the terrain is like or how difficult it would be for him to smuggle a weapon into Cyprus.”

“The beach area is flat. There are a few hills near the main road.”

“I’d still have to see for myself.”

She sat on the bed, disappointed. She wanted reassurance from Nick. In her mind, his ten years with SWAT gave him tactical omniscience.

The irritating racket of squealing children came from outside, followed by the yelling of the mother. “Were you able to find someone to dig into Tischenko deeper?” she asked and got up to close the window.

A bright orange soccer ball flew onto the balcony and bounced off the door. A man she figured was the father stomped up the steps to retrieve it. He loudly told the children something in German and made a shooing motion urging them toward the sand.

“What is that racket?”

“We’re staying at a family resort until tomorrow and a bunch of kids are out front playing.”

“To answer your question, I got hold of Interpol information. It’s not much.”

“Any info helps.”

“They traced him to Venezuela a short time after he escaped Sevastopol. How he got there is a mystery. I suspect via Russia.”

“Probably. But if Interpol knows this, then the Ministry does too.”

“I’m certain they do.”

Atakan hadn’t said anything to her. No point, since the info was neither important nor current.

“From there he likely entered Europe by way of Latvia or Lithuania, one of those EU countries you can never find on the map. As you know, it’s easy moving through the other Eurozone countries into France. Sorry I don’t have better news to give you. I need more from your end to get more.”

“I understand,” Charlotte said.

“Case, you said they’re doing forensics on your computers.”

“Yes.”

“If he monitored the traffic on your computer, their malware can determine where the breach occurred. Once they locate that, they’ll obtain the IP address he used. Send me the information.”

“Wouldn’t he route the hack job through several servers?”

“Count on it.”

“The Ministry analyst will backtrack through those servers and come up with the same information as you. I don’t understand how that helps.”

“Just get the IP addresses for me.”

“You know a guy from one of the alphabet agencies who hacks into people’s personal computers, don’t you?” She pictured a techno geek, sitting in a secret, concrete room in the basement of a government building. A guy recruited from MIT or Cal Tech, in a T-shirt with Mr. Spock silk-screened on the front with one of Spock’s Zen-like quotes. She smiled to herself at branding him a techno geek. Nick referred to archaeologists as science geeks perversely fascinated by crap from some ancient granny’s attic.

“Let’s leave it at I have a friend of a friend.”