Byzantine Gold (20 page)

Should she show Rana Tischenko’s photo or not? The pro was obvious. Unless there was a break in locating Tischenko, she’d have to leave Cyprus until Atakan was safe again. When that happened..., she didn’t want to think how he’d react. She couldn’t explain she was leaving at Nuray’s request. The last thing she needed was to stir up trouble between Atakan and Nuray. Rana and her lover had no reason to notice Tischenko and the chance that they had was slim, but it was possible. If they had seen him, she could find out what boat Atakan and Iskender needed to board to arrest Tischenko. It wasn’t as if they had another way of discovering which boat he came in. They couldn’t board and search every boat in the marina, pall-mall, willy-nilly. With Tischenko taken care of and Atakan safe, she could stay.

The cons were also obvious. If Atakan found out she showed the photo to a stranger, he’d be livid. He did not want her interfering in his work and made that clear from the start. He’d blow his stack if he knew she contacted Nick about the IP addresses Tischenko used.

What the hell, a shot-in-the-dark chance was still a chance. Charlotte opened her laptop.

“Rana, would you mind looking at a photo and telling me if you have seen this man either on one of the boats near you or onshore when you were shopping?”

“Please, I am glad to help.”

Charlotte pulled up the file with Tischenko’s photo. Atakan had the newer one from the surveillance camera in Kusadasi. The one Charlotte had was from an old Ministry file. She angled the laptop so Rana could see the picture.

Rana drew back as if stung. Intense brown eyes fixed on Charlotte. “Were you lovers?”

“No, absolutely not,” she blurted. The question was like a bucket of ice water over her. Her hatred of Tischenko never allowed for the possibility someone like Rana might interpret Charlotte’s inquiry as a search for a long, lost lover.

“We were never lovers,” Charlotte said.

Rana’s expression softened. “That’s good.”

“Why, what difference does it make?”

“You seemed...how shall I say...quite close to one of the men you were here with the other day. I would not like to get involved in a triangle between old and new lovers.”

“Not to worry,” Charlotte said. “He’s just an old friend I heard was in the area. We lost touch and I hoped to reconnect while I’m working here. Have you seen him?”

“No. But if I do, and see you again, I will tell you.”

Disappointed, Charlotte closed the file and the laptop. The waiter came by and she ordered another scotch.

“It is late. I must go,” Rana said, checking her watch. She stood and grabbed her purse. “I hope we can meet again.” Smiling, she walked away, leaving her magazine behind.

The waiter brought Charlotte’s drink. She sipped it and thought about Rana’s lover. What would she do if Atakan had a grave illness? As dangerous as the situation was with Tischenko, at least Atakan could put an end to him given the opportunity. Disease didn’t always offer opportunities or choice.

Chapter Forty

“She had pictures of you,” Rana said.

Maksym noted a hint of suspicion in her voice. Rana was the closest he’d come to having a relationship. He’d seen different women off and on over the years, hookups that amounted to nothing more than brief encounters. He sought female companionship for sex alone.

Mildly amused, he didn’t answer, curious to see how far she’d push him.

“Were you lovers?” she asked.

Once he left the military, he swore no one, man or woman, would tell him how to live his life again. A year ago her hint of jealousy would’ve irritated him enough to dump her. She’d be loaded onto the Zodiac and left ashore. Now, he didn’t have the energy to care that much.

“Lovers...” He laughed. “No, although I did let her suck my cock.” He left out it was at knife point.

“She said you were friends. What sort of friend sucks your cock?”

“A good one.”

Rana huffed but kept her comments to herself.

“What else did she say?”

“She asked if I had seen you onboard any of the boats in the harbor. She doesn’t know we are together or I’m sure she’d have mentioned it when she showed me the pictures.”

“You said no, of course.”

She nodded. “I think she hopes to be with you again.”

“Trust me, Rana, she doesn’t,” he said, putting his hands behind his head.

“I asked where the two men she came with last time were. She said both were at the camp. The man who you instructed Evgeniy and I to look for, I believe he is her current lover.”

“He is.”

“I asked after the second man. She said he’s a friend of the man you call Vadim.”

Maksym leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out, analyzing the situation from Atakan’s mindset. Obviously, Atakan suspected he’d followed him to Cyprus but couldn’t be certain. He’d be a fool not to suspect and Atakan was no fool. Dashiell identified the second man as
a friend
. A friend from the recovery project or a friend from the Ministry, Maksym wished he knew. Best to assume the Ministry sent a second agent in case of another attempt on Atakan’s life. If the man was an agent, then in all likelihood he’d be armed too. That changed the dynamic. They’d probably scouted the area for weak points in and around the camp where Atakan was vulnerable.  He had to assume they found the vulnerable spots and made adjustments. If the man was indeed an agent.

“She didn’t say whether the second man was a diver or not?”

“No. I hesitated to ask for details. I was afraid she’d become suspicious,” Rana said.

“She would. Vadim’s woman is very clever.”

“I am clever too.”

Maksym grinned at the tipped chin defying him to say otherwise. Cleverness wasn’t one of her strong suits. It didn’t matter to him and he saw no reason to hurt her feelings. “You’re lovely and willing, which is far better.” The compliment earned him a broad smile.

His thoughts returned to the possible new complication. He hadn’t counted on facing a second gun when he confronted Atakan. Atakan definitely carried a weapon. He’d had a gun when he came running out of the apartment building the night the flowers were delivered.

Rana came over and sat on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “What are you thinking so hard on, Maksy?”

Maksy
—she’d taken to calling him that since they arrived in Cyprus. He wasn’t a fan of cute nicknames, but it pleased her so he put up with the silliness.

“I am thinking of a new strategy.”

Rana wasn’t listening but teasingly rubbing her tits across his chest.

He moved her off his lap, unzipped his jeans, and opened his legs. Putting his hands behind his head again, he said, “Time for you to be a good friend.”

It took her a few seconds to catch his meaning. Then, she dropped to her knees and freed his erection to take him deep in her mouth.

Chapter Forty-One

The odor of onion and cinnamon from the lunchtime moussaka hung in the air of the dining room. All the team members had left except for Saska, Nassor, Atakan, Iskender, and Charlotte. The cook had finished cleaning up and gone into Famagusta for fresh vegetables and fruit from the local market. Atakan, Iskender, and Charlotte lingered, making idle conversation while they waited for Saska and Nassor to leave. Atakan eyed Nassor hard whenever his attention settled on Saska. Atakan was good at observing without appearing to and Charlotte envied the ability. Saska nodded to the three of them as she and Nassor finally left.

“I need you to draw something for me,” Atakan said when they were alone.

“Sure, what is it?”

He slid a series of photos he’d printed out from the jpegs sent to him from the project manager on Nassor’s previous assignment. The pictures were taken by different team members and at various times during the recovery work.

She took the photos he handed her, curiosity aroused. Both Atakan and Iskender wore dead serious expressions—serious and concerned.

“Who is this?” she asked, going through the pictures one-by-one. From the looks on their faces, she wondered if this was someone they’d suspected of artifact smuggling and had seen in the area.

“It’s Nassor Jafari,” Atakan said.

Charlotte went through the photos again. “He’s lost weight since then. Definitely thinner.” She looked up at Atakan then to Iskender and back to Atakan. “If there’s something you want me to see, I’m afraid I don’t know what it is.”

“Concentrate on his face.” Iskender tapped the head shots.

She studied the pictures he’d pointed to. “I’m sorry, but with his thick beard, his face is fuller now, other than that, I still don’t see much difference.”

“The ears and nose are not the same,” Atakan said.

She stared at the ears and nose. “The ears look more sticky-out, but that might be because his head is shaved here. The lack of hair makes them more noticeable. The nose looks the same, to me.”

“Ears are a very distinctive feature, unique. His hair is longer now, but it still exposes his ears. Like you said, they don’t stick out as much.” Iskender nodded in agreement with Atakan.

“Also, focus again on the nose. In the photo in your hand, Nassor’s nostrils are flared, not a lot, but more than your partner Nassor’s.”

Once the differences were pointed out, she could see the variation.

She gave the photos back to Atakan. “All right, I see what you mean. But why are you so fixed on these differences? At the end of the day, they’re pretty slight.”

“Enough to make me wonder about who’s working with you—whose working this project. I need you to take the face shots and draw a picture with a full beard alteration. Use Refik’s office.” Atakan put all but the headshots in the envelope.

“I can’t draw the kind of portrait sketch you want. I can sketch the relics fine but not accurate face recreations. Rachel is better.”

“It should be you. We can’t have our suspicions leak. The drawing has to be done by someone we trust,” Iskender said, although she didn’t need the explanation. “Not that we don’t trust her but the fewer folks who know we’re looking at him, the better.”

“I’ll try.” She gestured open-handed, doubting she’d produce the result they needed. “What about his parents? Can’t you show photos of this Nassor to them and ask if he’s their son?”

“We haven’t located his parents. The police went to their home and learned from neighbors they’d left Cairo during the uprising and haven’t returned. They’re staying with family somewhere out of the city. The neighbors don’t know where.”

“I wonder why they haven’t come back?”

“Probably waiting to see how settled the new government is. There could be more civil strife if the people don’t like the new president or any reforms he puts forth. I’d stay away for awhile too,” Atakan offered and gave her the face shots.

“If it turns out Nassor isn’t who he says he is, then what?”

“We identify him and await orders from the Ministry. Firat may want us to take him into custody immediately for questioning. Or, we may keep him under watch. The only reason for him to be here is the artifacts. I prefer to wait and watch. I’d like to know who he’s working for or with,” Atakan said.

Iskender nodded in agreement. “Questioning him before he makes a move doesn’t get us much.”

More risk for Atakan, as though Tischenko wasn’t enough. It seemed more and more Nuray was right. Charlotte was truly a lodestone for danger and her presence a threat to him. Even as she sent her resume out, deep down a part of her clung to the belief the accusation was wrong. She wasn’t bad luck for Atakan. She only sent out the inquiries to placate Nuray. The turn of events snuffed out that futile belief.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t tell Nuray about this development. If he did, the next email Charlotte received wouldn’t be pleading but more accusing and definitely uglier.

“I’ll let you know when I’m finished.” Sick at heart, Charlotte left.

Chapter Forty-Two

“I want to meet with you,” Omar demanded, “today.”

Darav’s brows lifted a notch at the tone. He made the demands, not Omar. “Are you insane? I’m still in Cyprus. I cannot leave and go to Iraq.”

“We aren’t in Iraq. We’re in Cyprus too.”

We?
“What are you doing here? And, who is with you?”

“You’ll learn soon enough. We are not far from the Salamis Bay Conti Hotel. They have a casino. Meet me at the roulette table next to the cashier’s window. When can you come?”

“No,” Darav said firmly, hiding the creeping uneasiness that started with the unexpected call and worsened with Omar’s demand for a meet. “I can’t chance being seen with you until our raid. There’s a BP station half a kilometer north of the hotel with an outdoor seating area. I’ll meet you at 5:00 this afternoon.” Darav clicked off.

Outside the men’s quarters, the voices of Derek and his friends grew louder as they approached. Darav rose from the cot and left before the men arrived. He needed to be alone and to think.

He walked behind camp for several minutes to a clump of olive trees where he wouldn’t be disturbed. Sitting on a patch of shade under a tree, he went over what Omar’s arrival possibly meant.

Omar had a stupid beast’s animal cunning that came with a dangerous persuasive tongue. Loyalties to Darav among the group were strong with a slight majority, slight enough to keep the others from challenging his leadership,
so far
. He wasn’t blind to the vulnerabilities of those claiming allegiance to him. He’d witnessed what a slippery commodity loyalty could be. Had Omar swayed the weak ones to his side? Darav took a mental roll call of his followers, taking the measure of each. After an analysis, he tempered his worry. Abdullah and Mustafa, two of his most reliable supporters, skillful themselves with words, would prevent potential insurrection on Omar’s part.

Concern still hovered in the back of Darav’s mind. Why had Abdullah and Mustafa allowed Omar and others to come to Cyprus? He called Abdullah’s cell first and got no answer. Then, he tried Mustafa’s, which also went unanswered. Finally, he reached Havva.

“Havva, where are Abdullah and Mustafa?”

“Darav, hello—”

“Put Abdullah on the line, now.”

“We’ll speak later.” Havva hung up.

His initial uneasiness disappeared. A sick, sinking feeling of foreboding filled him as he listened to the silence for a long moment before putting the phone away. 

#

Recovery work done for the day, the divers had all returned to camp and then gone their separate ways. Darav waited until he was alone in the men’s quarters to dig through his duffle bag. Under the stiff cardboard bottom, he’d made a slit and hidden his K-Bar knife, the one he used on Nassor Jafari. He unfolded it into the locked, open position, and then secreted it in the small of his back. He walked around the room, testing how well the knife stayed in place, held there by the waistband of his shorts and underwear. Satisfied when it didn’t slip, he pulled one of his dirty cotton shirts from the net hamper he used. The shirt stunk of sweat and the other dirty clothes, but it was the baggiest he owned. He put it on and checked himself in the mirror to make certain the weapon didn’t show or bulge. Then, he made the twenty minute walk to the BP station.

A flat rock roof that looked hastily extended from the station’s main building covered a scattering of tables. Omar, Goker, and Turgay crowded around a rusty aluminum table on folding chairs.

An invisible band had tightened across his chest when he saw who the other two were that constituted the
we
Omar indicated. Darav retreated and stepped behind a corner of the gas station’s garage wall before the three noticed him. He took a fortifying breath. He had to appear confident and strong when he faced the group. Any inkling of fear, Omar would sense. Darav fingered his secreted knife, finding courage and reassurance there. He inhaled deeply and exhaled long and slow several times, then stepped into view.