Marked for Revenge

by Jennifer S. Alderson

  “You made good time.”

  “What should I do now?” Ivan hitching a ride to Marmaris wasn’t part of Luka’s plan. He knew Luka was not pleased that he was on board, but when he’d called the crime boss from the yacht in Venice, he only had to tell Luka that Vincent de Graaf was nipping at his heels, and he was allowed passage.

  De Graaf’s unexpected visit to his gallery had been a blessing in disguise. So far, he had been unable to find out where Luka was meeting with his Turkish contact or when. For his plan to work, Ivan needed to know the location and timing of the handoff, preferably before their transaction was complete.

  Revenge was so close that he could taste it. Sleep was impossible. He spent every waking moment reviewing the facets of his plan, brainstorming the strengths and weaknesses of each step. This was his only chance to get Luka back; his plan had to be perfect.

  Only then could he be free of the crushing guilt he felt whenever he thought of Marjana. Ivan wondered if hurting Luka would be enough to lessen his pain or if he could overcome his own role in his daughter’s downfall.

  “Your job is finished,” Luka said. “The money has been transferred to your account. I have already informed the captain you will be disembarking as soon as you dock. Do you think Vincent de Graaf followed you?”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Excellent. Say, why not stay a day in Marmaris? We can meet after the deal is complete and celebrate,” Luka said, his tone unusually jovial.

  Ivan’s heart raced. “Certainly. When is it taking place exactly? Are you in Marmaris now?”

  “You did good, Ivan. I’ll be in touch,” Luka said then hung up without answering Ivan’s questions.

  “He must already be there,” Ivan muttered aloud.

  One of the crew members approached with another mimosa. “Sir, we will be docking in twenty minutes. Do you require help packing your belongings?”

  Ivan only had a small satchel with him, and the crew knew it. He played along anyway. “No, thank you. I’ll take care of it as soon as I finish this drink.” He took a long sip of the orange juice and prosecco mix, savoring the bubbles.

  59 Two Birds, One Stone

  September 24, 2018

  Luka Antic watched through binoculars as the Sunset Dreams entered the bay and sailed to the Setur Netsel Marina. He was already nervous enough without Ivan Novak poking around where he shouldn’t be. Was Vincent de Graaf really in Venice? Or did Ivan lie to get onto the boat, to stay with the artwork and see where it went? His curiosity was troublesome.

  He lay down the binoculars then stared out toward the mountainous island rising before him in Marmaris Bay. He wiggled his toes around in the tiny pebbles covering the beach. He would have to come back here on vacation one day. Marmaris was his kind of place with the right mix of bars, alcohol, drugs, and scantily-clad women. Sitting here on the water’s edge, the sound of lapping water calmed his nerves ever so slightly. Next to him stood a glass water pipe. He picked up a long tube attached to its middle and sucked hard. Three deep puffs set his mind spinning as the tension dissipated from his body.

  Ivan was supposed to hand over the crates in Venice and return to Amsterdam, not hitch a ride to Marmaris. He’d been asking too many questions about his Turkish contact’s identity as well as the location and specifics of their upcoming transaction. It shouldn’t have interested him, but Ivan steered every conversation back to the artwork’s handover.

  To top it off, Ivan didn’t seem suspicious when he asked him to stay in Marmaris and celebrate with him. In fact, the art dealer seemed downright pleased by the invitation. Given their history together, Luka hadn’t expected Ivan ever to want to share another drink with him again.

  A horrifying thought had entered his brain during their conversation and refused to be quelled. Could Ivan be working with the Dutch police or Vincent de Graaf? That would explain the constant questions, forced joviality, and unusual interest.

  Now that Ivan was in Marmaris, Luka could spin it to his advantage. It would be far easier to get rid of the gallery owner here in Turkey than it would be back in Europe. And the sooner he did, the more confident he could be that Ivan would not be able to sell any of the copies that his artists may have made. Dead men don’t make deals, and he couldn’t imagine the art dealer would have entrusted any forgeries with his staff. The risks were too high. He probably had them stashed in a warehouse or storage unit back in the Netherlands.

  Luka stood and stretched before stepping into the warm water of the bay. He floated on his back, letting the waves crash over his belly and massage his legs with their powerful pull. Retirement was only a few years away. If things with Kadir worked out the way he hoped, this transaction should be the beginning of a lucrative business relationship, one that would help his organization solidify its position in a larger, more profitable market. In the world he lived in, one needed to constantly evolve to stay on top.

  He closed his eyes and breathed in the thick salty air. The laughter of playing children and roaring motors of watercraft crisscrossing the bay lulled him into a trance as the sunlight warmed his skin. It was heavenly here. Who knew, perhaps when he finally did retire, he would buy an apartment in Marmaris.

  As soon as his transaction with Kadir was wrapped up, he’d have that drink with Ivan, and then get rid of him. His bodyguards would find a way to dispose of the art dealer’s corpse. Afterward, he would stop at a realtor’s office. Two birds with one stone. Luka smiled. This was turning out to be an extremely productive trip.

  60 Exploring Marmaris

  September 24, 2018

  When Zelda walked onto YOLO’s deck, the suffocating humidity enveloped her like a warm blanket. They were cutting across the Mediterranean Sea as they approached the mouth of Marmaris Bay. Rocky mountains dotted with pine trees stretched down to the water’s edge, their craggy feet flowing into the blue water. Zelda sucked in the salty air and watched as dolphins played in their boat’s wake. It was early morning and soft pinks and oranges reflected off the rolling waves and colored the sky.

  Vincent was already relaxing in a lounge chair, enjoying the stunning views. “The captain will drop us off in Marmaris but can’t stay. They need to go to Kos.”

  “Good morning to you, too,” Zelda said as she sat down next to him. “So, what’s your plan?”

  “Find the Sunset Dreams and watch it in the hope that the art hasn’t yet been moved. They shouldn’t have arrived much earlier than we did. Our captain’s been cruising at top speed the entire journey.”

  “What, no favors to call in?”

  Vincent chuckled. “No, not here. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

  “You mean we.”

  “No, me. Zelda, I shouldn’t have brought you to Marmaris. You aren’t an investigator. We still don’t know if Luka or Ivan Antic are involved. Both men are extremely dangerous, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “If we don’t find the stolen artwork, I don’t get my life back. No museum will ever hire someone suspected of being involved in a robbery. Please, let me stay and help you.”

  “No! Zelda, I can’t let you. You should fly back to Amsterdam. There are two airports reasonably near here. Once I have a better handle on this situation, we’ll book you a flight back.”

  “I am not leaving Marmaris, Vincent! It’s your job to find the art, but it’s my life and future that are on the line! If you won’t let me help, then at least let me stay so you can keep me updated.”

  Vincent scrutinized her for quite a long time, clearly weighing the pros and the cons. “It’s a deal. But you have to stay out of the way, okay? I’ll fill you in on anything I discover, but you must promise to let me do the investigating.” He sat up straighter, stretching to his full height, and gazed at her sternly.

  “Agreed,” Zelda said solemnly and stuck out her hand to make it official.

  “As soon as we dock, I’m going to look for the yacht. Why don’t you find us
a hotel close to the marina? Nothing too expensive. My expense account is limited.”

  As their yacht entered Marmaris Bay, Zelda couldn’t help but gawk at the long, crescent-shaped beach and azure water. From the YOLO’s deck, Zelda could see the entire town. Marmaris was a sprawling metropolis situated in a deep valley and encircled by tall, craggy mountain peaks with a mix of modern skyscrapers and residential homes lining the waterfront. They approached from the right, cruising past Setur Netsel, a public marina on the far end of town, then around a small hill jutting far out into the bay. The outcrop was covered with a mishmash of ancient buildings and topped with a miniature castle, complete with turrets. Unlike Clervaux Castle, this one appeared to be made of yellow marble.

  On the other side of the hill was a giant statue of Atatürk surrounded by a half-circle of Turkish flags—a field of red with a crescent moon and white star floating in the middle. Docked close by were schooners decorated like pirate ships. Two were made to look like Jack Sparrow’s Black Pearl. Signs indicated that all offered daily cruises around the bay.

  As they sailed past the city center, the architecture became progressively modern. The far-left end of town was a forest of new hotels, most of them as tall as skyscrapers.

  The captain wanted to dock at the public marina, but Vincent convinced him to take them further into the city center. Vincent had to assume Ivan was already in Marmaris and that his yacht was tied up to one of Setur Netsel Marina’s many piers. He wanted to be dropped far enough away that Ivan wouldn’t notice their arrival.

  Zelda thought Vincent was crazy to make such a request, but she soon realized that in Marmaris, finding a place to tie their yacht up was not a problem. Once they reached the middle of town, there was a pier, jetty, or dock placed every few feet. Some were owned by hotels, and others were public, but all were appropriate options for the captain to allow Vincent and Zelda to disembark.

  The captain pulled up to an empty pier in front of a trio of glass skyscrapers. Zelda was glad to be on dry land again. She loved watersports but always had trouble adjusting to the constant rocking motion when sailing. Between the hotels and the strip of beach ran a long promenade along the water’s edge, which they soon learned connected one side of Marmaris to the other. The beach itself was filled with umbrellas, lounge chairs, and drink tables. Only a few Western tourists splashed around in the water, most preferring to lay out and smoke hookahs while they stared out to sea.

  After the captain sailed away, Vincent pointed back to the right. “The marina is that way.”

  “Okay, let’s go,” Zelda said.

  The wide sidewalk was a gray strip surrounded by red-brown earth. Thick shrubs with white and purple flowers grew like weeds, their blossoms scenting the air with a sweet perfume. Despite the strong breeze, Zelda was sweating. It had to be at least a hundred degrees Fahrenheit and humid. Every step was an effort, and the thick air felt like a shackle weighing her legs down.

  The promenade was popular with tourists and locals. Most walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying the shade provided by the multitude of palm trees lining both sides. Children, oblivious to the sweltering heat weaved between their parents, chasing each other on steps and bicycles.

  The contrast between the Western and Turkish tourists was astounding. Most Western men strode around in speedos and flip-flops, proudly displaying their pasty white or fire-engine red skin. Their better halves sported bikinis and short-shorts that left nothing to the imagination. Walking alongside them were Turkish families, the women in headscarves and formless dresses, the men in white T-shirts and long pants. However, all the children she and Vincent passed were dolled up in swimsuits featuring a multitude of Disney characters.

  Hiding in the shade were bunny rabbits and feral cats. It seemed as if they’d passed hundreds on their short walk. She’d yet to see a rat. Perhaps they were a solution to Venice’s vermin problem, Zelda pondered.

  As they continued along the boardwalk and approached the old city center, one-story buildings housing snack bars, beer bars, sports bars, cafés, tattoo shops, hair extension salons, shoe stores, and clothing boutiques replaced the skyscraper hotels. A half-hour after disembarking from the YOLO, they reached the Atatürk statue. Both briefly admired his friendly smile and enormous size before continuing along the waterfront. As they approached the hill, a large sign caught both of their eyes.

  “What does Grand Bazaar mean?” Zelda asked.

  “It looks like a covered market. It must be huge. You can see how it splits into streets further back.”

  Next to the Grand Bazaar’s entrance was a street leading up the hill. The neighborhood was a mishmash of old structures that almost appeared stacked on top of each other. Although they must have been built as residential homes, most had signs hanging off them advertising hotels, cafés, bars, and apartments, several of which looked promising. She also noticed a large sign pointing up, leading visitors toward the castle at the top.

  Vincent said, “The entrance to the marina is just on the other side of this hill. I’d like you to find us a place—preferably up there, as high as you can. A balcony overlooking the marina would be ideal. Why don’t you send me a text with the address once you’ve booked us in? I’ll get in touch as soon as I’m able.”

  “No problem. What are you going to do exactly?”

  “I’m going to look around the marina and see if I can find the Sunset Dreams. Wish me luck!” Vincent was already striding away, a man on a mission.

  Zelda followed the sign leading toward the castle. Narrow streets and alleyways snaked upward, crisscrossing at random intersections. Souvenir shops displaying postcards, glass hangers, scarves, jewelry, and ceramics were in abundance. Several Turkish flags flew off a building close to the top, which Zelda assumed was the castle.

  She walked into the first hotel she found on the marina side, but it was booked up. The next one was ridiculously expensive for the poor condition of the rooms. And the third one only had one single room left. Zelda continued searching until she ended up back at the top of the hill. She crossed over to the right side and walked into the next hotel she found. Her persistence was rewarded with two single rooms at a reasonable price. When she threw open her hotel room window, she could see the marina and the entire harbor from there. When she leaned over the railing, she realized the castle was only a few streets away. Vincent will be pleased with me, she thought as she sent him a message with the hotel’s address.

  Now that she’d completed her task, she didn’t know what to do. She briefly contemplated sitting on the balcony with a book but realized this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Turkey had never been on her bucket list, but now that she was here, she might as well make the most of it. Besides, Vincent didn’t want her in the way. After a quick shower to wash the sweat off, she headed back out to find lunch and explore Marmaris.

  Halfway down the hill, Zelda happened upon an unusual terrace. To help counter the unrelenting heat, the café had hooked up a series of tubes that sprayed mist over their customers, and large fans helped distribute it evenly. Zelda took a seat directly under one of the jets.

  After a delicious serving of skewered lamb, she decided to check out the Grand Bazaar and buy souvenirs for Jacob and her parents, who were talking of visiting over Christmas. Something from Turkey would be a lovely surprise.

  It was indeed a large market that covered four city blocks. She’d never been in such a massive one before. The small, interconnected alleys seemed to form a maze one could easily get lost in. In the larger streets, there were fountains with strange statues of Western tourists shopping. Zelda realized the sculptor didn’t have to look far for inspiration. All the alleys and shops seemed to be full of Westerners haggling over prices.

  When Zelda was somewhere in the middle, a piercing cry startled her so badly she almost dropped a ceramic vase. A man’s voice singing a high-pitched melody broke through the market banter. Zelda realized there must have been a mosque nearby and figured it was a c
all to prayer, but to her Westerner’s ears, it sounded like a hauntingly beautiful song.

  She wandered through the streets and alleys. The shops and stalls were numerous, yet most sold the same knock-off brand clothing, shoes, pottery, jewelry, leather bags, and belly dancing outfits. Those made for children were especially popular. She settled on ceramic tiles and glass hangers featuring a white eye floating on a field of blue.

  “To protect,” said the salesman.

  Zelda bought three, figuring she could use all the help she could get.

  61 Stake out in Turkey

  September 24, 2018

  It took Vincent thirty minutes to find the Sunset Dreams, docked at the end of the farthest pier in Setur Netsel Marina. Its position and the many security guards made it impossible to stroll by and get a closer look. As soon as he tried to enter the marina, he was stopped and questioned by two guards stationed at one of six guard houses dotted around the large parking lot for million-dollar yachts. The city was a popular destination for wealthy Westerners and Turks. While they partied in the nearby Bar Street, most left their boats and crews behind with the knowledge that their possessions would remain unmolested. Less expensive boats were forced to park along the waterfront and take their chances.

  Vincent tried to bluff his way inside, but when the guard asked which boat he was a crew member of, the name that popped into his head—Good Times—was of a boat tied up two piers away from his target. At least when he sauntered over to Good Times, he would be able to get a bit closer to Ivan’s yacht. Unfortunately, he only saw the same crew members as he did yesterday and no sign of Ivan or the crates before the crew of Good Times came out on the deck, and he switched direction again.

  When he didn’t board, the security guards began to approach him. Vincent walked out of the marina as quickly as he could, then raced to the right instead of back over the bridge to Bar Street. Running parallel to the marina was a short street filled with designer name shops—Burberry, Gucci, Hermes, Dior, and many other top designers. He followed the Turkish Rodeo Drive to the end where he noticed a sign for Robert’s Coffee Shop.