Byzantine Gold

by Chris Karlsen

  Atakan inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath. Uncrossing his arms, he closed the short distance to where she stood.

  “It’s not forever,” she offered, “I’ll return.”

  He shook his head. “If you go, you cannot return. You’re either in my life or out of my life. There’s no in between.”

  “I’m so afraid. If you were killed--,”

  “Charlotte, your belief the characters in the Iliad were real and not fictional is crazy. This I’ve told you many times. But this—this belief you are the bringer of Tischenko into my life again is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. I explained to you the source of the trouble, the history we share. He, and he alone, is responsible for his actions.”

  Without touching her, he quietly asked, “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then I ask you now, to love me enough to stay. We will face whatever is to happen together.”

  Love me enough to stay.

  Love him enough to leave.

  The two pleas tore at her heart.

  Love me enough to stay.

  Love him enough to leave.

  If she stayed and Tischenko won, could she live with the idea she caused his death?

  “What is it to be?” he asked.

  If she left, she’d lose him permanently. If she stayed, she might still, but she might not. She made her decision. If it came to the worst, she wouldn’t leave him to die alone. She couldn’t.

  “I want to be here with you. I never wanted to leave.”

  He smiled and put his arms around her in a tight embrace. “Charlotte, believe this. I have no intention of letting Tischenko fulfill his wish. Believe that I will prevail,” he whispered against her temple.

  Relieved for the moment by his reassurance, she turned to a flat sandy mound covered with tufts of beach grass.

  “This is where we made love under the umbrellas,” she said.

  “Yes, I hoped the memory would influence you.”

  “Lack of courage influenced me. I couldn’t bear saying goodbye, knowing you’d hate me.” She refused to acknowledge her other haunting fear...that she might be leaving him to die alone.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Maksym snipped the end of his Cohiba and lit it, inhaling deep and slow.

  “You shouldn’t smoke. I worry for your health. Your cigarettes are bad enough, but cigars are worse,” Rana chastised.

  He blew out a chain of smoke rings. “I enjoy a fine, Havana cigar. I used to smoke them regularly. For awhile I gave them and cigarettes up. No need to now,” he said with an ironic, crooked smile she wouldn’t understand. “You say you haven’t seen Dashiell in three days.”

  “No, but I wouldn’t put much store in that. I told you sometimes they come to Ada’s, sometimes they don’t. When I’ve seen Charlotte, the Vadim man you are interested in is with her. The second man joins them on occasion. Other times, he drops her off,” Rana said.

  “And you’ve never asked to sit with them?”

  Rana shook her head. “I always wave and say hi. Charlotte waves back but never invites me to come over.” She pursed her lips in the petulant manner Maksym had grown used to and then said, “I think it’s very rude of her.”

  “Vadim probably doesn’t want you at the table. You’re a stranger to him. He can’t talk to her about plans they have if you’re there, which I give him credit for his caution. He’s not a stupid man.”

  “Still...”

  “Rana, don’t pout. The woman is not worth it. Go to the cabin, now. I need to talk to Evgeniy in private.”

  Maksym snagged her wrist as she walked past him. He tugged and she moved to stand in front of him. Putting his cigar in the ashtray, he took her by the hips and positioned her so she was between his legs and her shapely tush eye level. He slid his hands under her shorts, palming the panty-less cheeks, thumbing the cleft. He pushed one leg of her shorts higher and bit her bottom, enjoying her squeal of delight.

  He pulled his hands out and straightened her shorts. “We’ll have champagne in the cabin when I’m done,” he said, patting her on the ass. “You’ll forget all thoughts of the Dashiell bitch.”

  Rana turned. She lowered her head and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, then whispered, none too quietly, “Come soon Maksy, mon petit chou.”

  Over Rana’s shoulder, he rolled his eyes at the smirking Evgeniy. Maksym pressed a hand to her chest. “Go. I’ll see you shortly.”

  “Did she call you her little cabbage?” Evgeniy asked after she left.

  “Yes. I’ve been called many things, never a vegetable.”

  “I didn’t know she spoke French.”

  “She doesn’t. She probably saw the phrase in one of her fashion magazines and Googled it.”

  “She loves you, you know.”

  Maksym gave a single shrug and began smoking again. “She’s young. She fantasizes we will marry. I will be her first major disappointment.” A pang of unexpected regret sparked, but he quickly pushed the emotion away. He wasn’t responsible for her girlish daydreams. He’d warned her not to love him. She did so at her own risk.

  “I have to think of how to get one-on-one with Vadim. Time is growing short,” Maksym said, switching to the main subject.

  “How is the pain?”

  “Worse by the day.”

  “Is the morphine not working?”

  “It helps, but I try to limit my intake. I get too fatigued, weak and weary as an old man. Always, there is the lightheadedness. I stand and must hold onto the chair for the dizziness. The worst is knowing that all too soon the time will come when it is the only means for me to get through the day.

  “Is it too late to start chemo?”

  “No chemo.”

  Evgeniy nodded. “This business with Vadim—I thought you were using the knoll near the camp to sight-in on him.”

  “No, I thought to watch his movements, get to see if he had a pattern. But, I want a close-up confrontation. I knew in Istanbul, when I had a clear shot at him outside his apartment, I wouldn’t be satisfied unless we were face-to-face.”

  He’d had a shot at Dashiell too. She’d stepped in front of Vadim. At the time, Maksym wondered if it was a stupid mistake or was she deliberately shielding him? She’d fought like a wildcat when he’d taken her prisoner the year before. She’d shown a tough spirit. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had the courage to act as a shield.

  “Actually, I had a clear shot at both Vadim and Dashiell. I should’ve shot her just to see the look on his face,” Maksym said. He had considered it, raised his gun, hesitated, and then passed. Thinking back on that decision brought a thin laugh from him. “I must be getting soft.”

  Maksym’s thoughts returned to strategy. “I’d hoped Rana’s befriending Dashiell would give me better information. I hoped she might speak freely about where they go when they’re not at Ada’s or plans they have for side trips on their days away from camp.”

  “To our knowledge, they’ve only gone to the resort. He varies his route and the times. And, Ada’s is definitely not suitable, too many people, hard for you to maneuver him into the right spot without interference.”

  “That’s the problem. Where can I arrange things the way I want?”

  “Not so long ago, you’d have gone one-on-one under the sea and given him a watery death.”

  Proud memories of his days in the Russian military flashed across Maksym’s mind. Once, he had been one of the best combat divers in a Naval Spetsnaz Unit and efficient as a shark when it came to killing in the water.

  “Not so long ago I could do many things,” Maksym said with bitterness his memories now held.

  Evgeniy filled two glasses with Putinka Vodka to the top and brought one to Maksym. “You’re not dead yet.” He raised his glass in toast.

  Maksym raised his. “To the old days,” he said, emptying his glass in a few swallows.

  “Perhaps, if I keep a watch on the camp, I can find out his routine and wa
ylay him for you.” Evgeniy sat at the bar again.

  “Won’t work. I’d have to always be standing nearby. I can’t handle sitting in the blistering heat as long as it might take. Here on the boat, I have the relief of going inside to cool off and rest.”

  Evgeniy’s idea had some merit. Maksym thought for a few minutes about how he could tweak it. “I wonder if we’re not tracking the wrong person. He will go where she wants to please her. I’d like you to start keeping tabs on her.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Finally, her day off. Charlotte felt like an untethered falcon, as though an invisible hand had cut her jesses. The last two days working with the dickhead, Nassor, tested her ingrained Midwest manners. Diving hadn’t been too horrible. She’d turned down the AGA masks so she didn’t have to talk to him. But the down time between dives when they were assigned together in the conservation lab—the strained conversation, the tension, the close proximity, and just the fact they breathed the same air pissed her off.

  “Going someplace special with Atakan, I suppose,” Saska said as Charlotte finished applying her makeup.

  “Yes. We’re having breakfast at the Salamis Bay Hotel, then we’re going to gamble a bit.” She checked herself out in the full-length mirror Rachel bought. The bright tangerine sundress was new. The color flattered her tanned skin and black hair. It was a couple of inches above her knee, had spaghetti straps, a sexy vee-but in the front, and a flared skirt. “I’m itching to hit their roulette tables. After that, we’re going to the open-air market in Famagusta. It’s a day totally dedicated to us.” She twirled, twice, eyeing the skirt’s wavy movement in the mirror. She thought the ripply effect lent a very feminine touch.

  Saska stared at her, looking as if she’d spoken Greek or something. She hadn’t seen Saska much the last week, which didn’t bother her at all. But, it was a bit odd. In the small confines of their camp not to see someone for long periods of time was unusual. If it had been anyone other than Saska, she might’ve asked where they were keeping themselves.

  “I realize you have deep feelings for Atakan,” Saska said at last, “so, you aren’t objective. But in my opinion, your boyfriend is an ass. I look at him now and wonder what I ever saw in him. Sorry, I know that offends you. But, it’s been sitting on my chest and I needed to get it out.”

  Charlotte’s first instinct was to defend him. However, on the rethink, she figured the smart play was to let Saska vent. Whatever was bothering her about Atakan bubbled near the surface and she couldn’t help being curious. Perhaps Saska only needed a sympathetic ear, not that Charlotte gave a rat’s ass. Still.

  “What brought this on?” she asked, smoothing and spreading her skirt out to prevent wrinkles as she sat next to Saska. “Did Atakan say something that hurt your feelings? It’s not like him to be insensitive, but if he was, I will certainly speak to him.”

  “Hurt my feelings? No. Insult me? Yes. Earlier this week, I asked for his opinion on a political issue in Turkey and he refused to discuss it at all. His whole attitude toward me was cold. He treated me like I was a beetle trying to burrow under his skin. I mean, really, how could he be that way to me? We were lovers once for God’s sake.”

  Charlotte’s brows flicked up for an instant at the reminder of their former relationship. The gesture wasn’t intended. It just happened.

  “I wanted to talk to him about some articles I read in the newspaper. There was a lot of debate in Op-Ed pieces.”

  “Saska, you know him well enough to realize he’s not one to blurt out his innermost thoughts on government issues, even with someone like you. He’s very protective of his position. His loyalty to the government he represents prohibits him from openly commenting on a controversial issue.” It irritated her to add, “Obviously, he cared for you, and I’m certain he never meant to hurt your feelings in any way. He’s just a very circumspect man.”

  “I asked because I wanted a native’s point of view. I thought our previous relationship at least allowed me that.”

  You’re just going to keep bringing up that previous relationship, aren’t you? Charlotte thought. Hello, think of who you’re jabbering on about this relationship to was on her lips but she didn’t say it.

  “You don’t think the fact you’re a journalist overrides any expected privileges from your friendship?”

  “I wasn’t going to do a story on the topic and quote him. I don’t write those news articles. He should know perfectly well, I wouldn’t do that to him.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t discuss the matter, then he knows for sure you won’t.”

  Charlotte stood. “Run your questions by Iskender, maybe he’ll discuss them with you,” she said, certain he wouldn’t be any more forthcoming than Atakan.

  Saska blew out a grunt of disgust. “Yeah, right. He was sitting there when I talked to Atakan. He could’ve offered his comments--nothing but crickets from his side of the table.”

  “Sorry, you feel slighted but I’ve got to go. Want anything from the market?”

  “No, thanks for asking.” Saska stood too. “Maybe Nassor would like to have breakfast at Ada’s.”

  Charlotte cringed inwardly. She’d rather dine with an anaconda. The scenario was a bit too extreme even though it was Nassor involved. She amended it to a really big frog.

  #

  “You look very pretty,” Iskender said as she joined him and Atakan waiting in the shade of a tall olive tree.

  Atakan scowled at him. “I was about to say that.” He turned to Charlotte. “I was about to tell you how beautiful you look but he jumped in.”

  “I’m not adverse to two compliments. I love getting them.”

  She kissed Atakan and they slid their arms around each other.

  “Saska’s pissed at you, by the way.”

  “I figured as much. She hasn’t spoken to me since I refused to talk politics. Nassor got her all stirred up over issues she shouldn’t concern herself with. Speaking of him...” Atakan looked over both shoulders.

  “What did you find out?” she asked, excited to hear the dirt they discovered about the nasty jerk.

  “The real Nassor Jafari was murdered last May.”

  “What!”

  “This Nassor Jafari is really Darav Binici. He’s part of the most militant wing of the PKK. He and two of his associates, Omar Lokman and Havva Pelin, are wanted for terrorist acts in Turkey. We know they’re responsible for a series of bombings in Ankara and Marmaris last year. They’ve been hiding in the Qandil Mountains, but we never knew the exact location.”

  In a million years, that wasn’t what she expected to hear. She sank down onto the bench, trying to wrap her mind around the idea there was a terrorist in the camp working with them every day, working with her.

  “Why haven’t you arrested him?”

  “He’s obviously planning to steal artifacts and sell them on the black market. Those religious relics alone will bring enough money to buy a warehouse of weapons and explosives for their group.”

  “I get that, but why aren’t you arresting him?” Charlotte looked from Atakan to Iskender. It seemed like the logical thing for them to do, so what was stopping them?

  “He can’t pull off a theft like that alone. Others will come, they have to, and when they do, we’ll take them all. If he has any brains, and I don’t underestimate him, the ones who come will be part of his core group. Our government is anxious to get their hands on them,” Iskender explained.

  “How do you plan to handle this?” It sounded to her like while they worked behind the scenes, she’d still be working with Nassor or Darav as he was now known. The prospect didn’t thrill her. In fact, it worried her—badly.

  “I assume you’ve told Refik,” she said.

  “Of course. He and Talat and the three of us are aware of the situation,” Atakan said and sat beside her.

  “Is Refik pulling me as his partner?”

  Atakan drew in a deep breath but said nothing. He tipped his head, eyes to the ground then r
aised his eyes to hers. His hesitant expression said it all.

  “You’re keeping me with him?”

  “It’s your choice. Talat has offered to switch with you.”

  “I don’t want to work with him, Atakan. These terrorists are crazy. They’ll do anything to obtain their goals.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to continue as his partner if I thought you were in danger. I’d never let him near you. Surely you know that. Bear in mind, if we suddenly alter procedures, it might make him suspicious. He’s after the gold. Until he has his plan in place, I don’t see him doing anything foolish, especially with or to you. He knows our relationship and won’t want to draw unwanted attention. This is all about the relics.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Charlotte, if you don’t want to remain assigned with him, do not let me talk you into it. Whatever you decide is fine with me,” Atakan said.

  She was ninety percent sure she’d agree to continue working with him. Ten percent of her still had reservations. In a weird way, she understood Tischenko. Horrible person that he was, she understood his amoral psyche. He’d do whatever was necessary for money, or in Atakan’s case, revenge. His mission was focused. He had a target and pursued it. He didn’t randomly kill for a cause or blind belief in a political agenda or religion. Until 9/11, as a naive sophomore in college at the time, terrorists and terrorism were pretty alien entities to her...a foreign problem. Like everyone else, she watched in shock and disbelief as the Twin Towers came down and the smoke billowed from the Pentagon. And yet, even after those attacks, some part of her held onto the view of terrorism as remote to her world.

  “How are you going to know when he plans to make his move and how he plans to steal the gold?” It’d be nice to have a timeline in mind. She’d feel better.

  “We had special equipment flown in, a keystroke logger we attached to his laptop. Every key he strikes is recorded and sent to us. We also inserted a DRC card into his phone yesterday while he was on a dive. You know about the DRC card. Every call he makes, everyone he receives, every text and photo is seen and recorded by us.”