by K. T. Tomb
Chapter Ten
Marko stepped out of the black sedan and pushed the door shut.
There was a strange echo in the alley as the hollow metallic sound bounced off the surrounding walls. He smoothed his new suit out and walked around to the trunk of the car. Just as he was about to open it, another car pulled up. Xavier and Greame stepped out and walked towards him. It was clear that they were on their guard. He had been missing for two weeks and they were sure he had been taken in and probably confessed everything about their operation to his captors. But then suddenly he had turned up again and contacted them to say the he had recovered the falcon and the sale had gone through. Now they were meeting him to exchange the money.
“How’ve you been, Marko,” Xavier asked.
“It’s been rough, boss, but I managed to pull through.”
“How much did you have to tell them to let you go,” Greame asked, bluntly.
“Not much, they didn’t know anything about us being after the bird. Their concern was us wanting to shoot up the museum with those rich assholes inside. I just gave up the Iraqis and they were satisfied with that.”
“You got lucky then, finally.”
“Seems so,” Marko replied. “Are we going to do this or what? Driving around with all this cash has had me nervous for days.”
“Yeah, let’s get this over with,” Xavier agreed, stepping forward.
Marko opened the truck and pulled out the briefcase, placing on top of the trunk after he had slammed it shut. He opened it and showed them the crisp U.K. pound notes inside.
“Impressive, Marko. You really came through,” Greame said, closing the case and taking it off the car.
Suddenly, Xavier pulled a handgun from under his jacket and pointed it at him.
“I thought about this for a long time, Marko, and I’m sorry it has to be this way, but the mistakes you made brokering this deal put me in a difficult position. It’s possible the F.B.I. know more about our little operation than I’d prefer they did and the word is out there that my team isn’t as dependable as we used to be. None of that sits well with me, Marko and I’m sure you understand why.”
“Come on, Xavier. None of this was my fault. I had no way of knowing how things would go down in Syria.”
“That’s true, but you also didn’t do your homework.”
“You got greedy too, Marko,” Greame added. “You were burning the candle at both ends by setting up the gold deal so close to your Burmese trip. That screwed you big time.”
“That’s not the way I see it though, guys,” He said loudly and he made a dive for the pavement and scrambled around to the driver’s door of the car.
Before Xavier could pull the trigger, a voice came over a loud speaker advising him to drop the gun or they would be shot. Marko peeled out in the black sedan, leaving them standing in the alley with their hands in the air and F.B.I. agents in full black, carrying high-powered assault rifles surrounding them from every angle.
***
Anthony pulled out the chair for her and Chyna took her seat at the table, looking around at all her friends and colleagues seated there chatting among themselves.
She was happy that they all came to celebrate with her; she knew it had been a rough three weeks for all of them. Fatma and Dr. Epstein had been at the center of a PR nightmare after the attempted shooting on the opening night of the Phoenician exhibit. Their security protocol had been put through the wringer especially with civil unrest in the country looking as if it would soon escalate into outright war. She had done her best to help them by presenting a security proposal to the museum board on their behalf, outlining how they could implement new anti-terrorism measures at the institution. By the time Chyna had completed the presentation, the board had fully realized that they had been just as lax about securing their guests as the management had been, considering that Fatma’s team had requested permission to purchase metal detectors for the main entrance two years prior and her request had been denied repeatedly.
She noticed that Oscar and Sirita were engaged in a rather animated conversation at the far end of the table. They looked delighted with each other. Although she wasn’t the sort to inject herself into the personal lives of her employees, Chyna made a mental note to talk to both of them about the implications of engaging in office romances. Although she respected their judgment and they seemed to be genuinely just getting to know each other, she also wanted them to be aware of the painful existence they might be setting themselves up for. She should know; it had been the same kind of painful affair she and Anthony had had for the last fourteen years. Granted, her story was finally getting its happy ending; but what were the odds of theirs having the same?
Rashid had been gracious enough to join them in their celebrations. He had brought Shakira Mendes along with him. Chyna wasn’t sure if there was anything going on between them but they sure did make a cute couple. Anthony reached out under the table and took her hand in his, squeezing it slightly. He always did things like that just to let her know everything was going to be alright. As long as he was close enough to touch her like that, she knew that he was right. Lana was smiling broadly at Oscar as she made one of her famous jokes about his Tennessee accent over the table. Sirita wrinkled her nose at her and then burst out laughing too. Chyna wondered where Ted was, he had been invited to join them for the occasion but she wasn’t sure if he had made it to Istanbul.
“Lana,” Chyna called to her, “did Ted catch his flight?”
“He sure did, Chyna,” she replied smiling widely.
“So where is he?”
“He’ll be down in a minute,” she said cheekily. “He’s suffering from a little bit of, umm, jet lag.”
Everyone at the table started laughing. Lana blushed a little and took a sip of the lemon water in her glass.
“Well I hope he joins us soon, dinner is going to be served momentarily,” she announced.
Everyone at the table cheered, they had been looking forward to it all day. Chyna had booked them a private dining room at the Ottoman Imperial, their favorite hotel in the city. They had enjoyed the time they had spent there on their last adventure.
Soon, platters of food began to arrive. There was a whole roasted lamb and many different types of poultry. Chyna saw duck, chicken, pheasant and Cornish hens; some roasted and some stewed, all to perfection. Fish, steamed and whole, were added to the feast. As was customary, the meats were placed on a side table while the side dishes were placed in front of them to be served family style. Vegetable biryani, roasted vegetables in olive oil, flat breads, pasta, fresh vegetables and every condiment imaginable were set down on the table. When Chyna nodded her approval to the maître d’, the waiters began to serve the meat dishes to each of her guests in turn. Ted soon arrived at the table and all was perfect in their little world.
It was a wonderful dinner and they relaxed and had after dinner drinks and talked well into the night. None of them knew when they would have the chance to be together like that again; it would certainly not be soon.
Fatma Maulidi would be leaving to go back to Damascus in the morning. The museum board had decided to close the property down until the city was returned to some form of stability and she would have to ensure that the process of closing down the operation went smoothly. Ted would be returning to New York for work, Anthony would go back to Izmir. In a few weeks, even Oscar and Lana would be heading back to the States and then it would be Sirita and Chyna; of course, occasionally they would see Rashid.
It was a wonderful way to get started on their new venture in the Middle East; being surrounded by friends and colleagues who shared in their happiness. It was something Chyna had felt strongly about doing since she had returned from Sweden. She had taken the trip to Stockholm with Sirita, Oscar and Lana to return the golden falcon to its rightful home and also to have the chance of seeing the other one.
Inga had spent a week preparing the exhibit to receive it. She had even gone to the lengths of having
reproductions of the ancient standards of the Drammen Jarls made to attach to flagpoles and the great falcon finials attached to the tops. When Chyna visited the exhibit on her last day in Stockholm, she was surprised that they had received such a place of honor. The Swedish History Museum was known for having the largest collection of Viking artifacts in the world and Chyna could think of no better place for the falcon.
The entryway to the Viking exhibit was magnificent. The colossal doorways framed the view of the prow of a giant Viking ship that was taken from a burial mound found on a farm in rural Sweden. The ship was magnificent and beautifully preserved; the wood was as black as night and intricately carved on every piece of trim. The falcon flagpoles had received the place of an honor guard one at each side of the main door, arranged with their heads looking towards the enormous ship.
Epilogue
Chyna snuggled closer to Anthony’s warmth as the sun started to peep through the drapes.
It felt wonderful to be in his arms again and she still didn’t know how she would be able to tell him that she didn’t want him to leave again. It felt selfish and wrong; it wasn’t what they had always been about; the fundamentals of their long standing relationship. It had worked for them for over fourteen years; who was she to want to change it? Who knew if he wanted anything between them to change at all? For Chyna it was better to sadly let him go, knowing she was definitely going to be with him again, than to confess to him that she wanted him to stay and watch him run for the hills. No! She would be satisfied and wait. She had made the first move by bringing her work and her life closer to him, if he wanted something more than that right away, he would have to man up and tell her.
She felt his hands come around her waist and knew that he was rousing from his sleep. He loved to rest his hand in the cradle of her waist and stroke the soft skin between her hip and her breast while he woke up. Chyna loved that, it was one of the things she missed the most on the days when she woke up in an empty bed. She had no idea how long they would have together now, but at least she wouldn’t be leaving and this time when he did, he would be a lot less far away. She took his hand in hers and touched his fingers for a while before sighing and throwing back the covers.
“It’s time to get up, sleepy head,” she said.
Chyna had a full day ahead of her, and so did Anthony, whether he wanted to admit it or not. They were going apartment hunting today. The fastidious Shakira Mendes had sent over a list of about fifteen different apartments and houses which she thought would suit Chyna. There was no way that she wouldn’t be able to find a place to live today. In fact, Chyna had so much faith in Shakira, after the offices she had selected for Found History, that she already knew that her house was one of the top three on Shakira’s list. She wouldn’t be searching for long, so she had decided that they would go shopping for her furniture immediately afterwards. She hopped out of the bed and walked around the bed to the bathroom door.
As lazy as he was feeling, Anthony poked his head out from under the covers as soon as Chyna was out of the bed. He loved to watch her cross the room in the morning and head for the bathroom. She was magnificent in the morning. Whether she was in her standard black or white cotton bikinis and tank top or completely naked; seeing how confidently she moved when she should have been completely vulnerable always set the blood rushing through his veins. He heard the shower turn on and he smiled. Quickly, he called room service, ordered them some breakfast then he sprang out of bed and went to join her under the hot water.
When he stepped in behind her, Chyna turned and threw her arms around his magnificent shoulders. She leaned in and kissed him passionately, pressing her wet body against his. The water flowed over her shoulders and down her body in gentle hot streams that had started to drive him crazy with sensation. She pushed him up against the shower wall and kissed him more hungrily. Her leg went up his thigh and around his waist as she waited for him to make his move. As he leaned back against the wall he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist, Anthony Stewart could help but think to himself, Now this is what I call a damned good morning.
“You’re the most thoughtful man in the world,” Chyna said, completely surprised.
The breakfast items had been arranged perfectly on the dinette table in the living room. Everything was perfect right down to the black, white and yellow pansies in the vase, her favorites. There was semolina porridge which she had realized was very indigenous to the Middle East; she rarely got it anywhere else in the world. It had slivered almonds, dried cranberries and raisins spooned on top. A little jug of honey sat nearby. Eggs were being kept hot under a steel platter cover as well as crispy bacon and savory sausages. Pancakes and toast were on another covered platter and surrounded by tiny ramekins of different syrups, jams and jellies; it all looked delicious. With a pour of honey over her semolina, Chyna dug in hungrily. After a few mouthfuls, she looked up to see Anthony nibbling on a piece of bacon and staring at her.
“What is it?” She asked, laughing a little.
“Nothing,” he replied turning his attention to buttering a slice of toast and pouring them both some coffee.
“It’s not nothing. Come on, tell me, Babe. What are you thinking?”
“Okay, I’m just gonna come out and say it. If you don’t like the idea, I’ll understand so don’t worry about hurting my feelings or anything. I was just going with my gut here.”
“Out with it, Mister.”
“Okay, Babe, jeez. I applied for a transfer two weeks ago and I think they’re going to approve it,” he blurted out and cringed slightly waiting for her response.
Oh, my goodness, she thought. He’s going back to the States and I’m going to get stuck in Turkey on my own.
“Transfer? Transfer to where?”
He immediately saw his misstep and jumped in to reassure her.
“No, no, it’s not to go back home; I’m not ready to leave here yet. I requested a transfer from the attachment to the agency in Izmir to the consulate here in Istanbul and I think I’m going to get it. I go in to talk to the Consular General today.”
“My goodness, Babe! That’s the best news I’ve ever heard! I’m so happy.”
She stretched around to hug him tightly, relieved and pleasantly surprised. He pulled away enough to look at her and then he kissed her.
“When I boarded that plane at JFK a few weeks ago, it suddenly hit me that I never wanted to find myself leaving you again and not really knowing I would see you next. I’m tired of feeling like that Chyna. I’ve always known where in the world you were but now I want to know that I’m coming home to that place at the end of the day too.”
“I feel the same way, Babe. I really do. I want you there to hold me at the end of a hard day and rest your hand on my waist in the morning.”
“Hey, is that your way of asking me to move in with you?”
She paused and smiled at him.
“Is that your way of telling me that you want to?”
He reached for her again and kissed her passionately.
“Yes, Chyna,” he replied. “Yes, it is.”
The End
Chyna Stone returns in:
The Babylonian Basilisk
Return to the Table of Contents
THE BABYLONIAN BASILISK
by
K.T. TOMB
A Chyna Stone Adventure #4
The Babylonian Basilisk
Published by K.T. Tomb
Copyright © 2014 by K.T. Tomb
All rights reserved.
The Babylonian Basilisk
Prologue
“Why should you take another, Sire? We are already three wives in Babylon and your harem is full of unused concubines who spend their days gossiping and growing fat and unattractive,” Ishtari complained.
“I have taken wives from the courts of my allies, Ishtari, but as a good king I must take concubines from the courts of my enemies, both conquered and unconquered. Otherwise, how will I form new alliances f
or Babylon or enforce her rule over the conquered nations?”
Ishtari shrugged and picked up the wine jar to refill her husband’s cup.
She wasn’t pleased.
No truly loving and caring wife would be, under the circumstances. What else did she expect Hammurabi to do? The city needed supplies for its markets and the extensive construction work at the Ninurta Temple complex. He had to make peace with the Assyrians; they had been causing serious unrest north of Babylon, disrupting the importation of goods necessary for commerce and survival in their country.
“Ishme-Dagan is a difficult man to deal with, wife,” he continued. “I doubt it will end peacefully between us but for now it is important to make him feel so. He is threatened by us, as he should be, but I do not want to begin a war with him, at least not until the temples are complete. It would be unlucky.”
“You are wise, husband. One cannot glorify the gods and wage war with the same hands.”
Hammurabi nodded his agreement with her wise words and smiled.
“That is why my royal wife is Babylonian,” he said smiling, extending his left arm to her, and beckoning Ishtari to his embrace. “Only one as such can understand our political position at all times.”
She sat beside him on the large curule chair and nestled into the crook of his arm. He kissed her neck and buried his face in the perfumed waves of her long, black hair. The scent of jasmine and olive oil was fragrant on her milk-bathed skin. How he loved this goddess of a woman. She sighed at the sensation of his breath on her skin; he smelt of the wine he drank, odorous of the sun-ripened fruit of their fertile valley. As always, when in her husband’s embrace, Ishtari felt the sumptuous stirring of desire for him.
