The unknown woman was Eris, Goddess of Strife. The Apple of Discord wasn’t for the other goddesses, it was for Paris. The scene was the sculpted interpretation of the “Judgment of Paris.” The selfish and foolish decision of his judgment had led him to the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen, Queen of Sparta, and the wife of Menelaus. It was their fated meeting which resulted in the great tragedy that was the Trojan War. That is, if Homer is to be believed.
Charlotte mimed to Atakan she knew the answer. She touched her finger to her eye and then tapped her finger to the tip to her nose and pointed to the statue. Atakan shrugged and shook his head, apparently unable to decipher the shorthand.
They stepped between the boards and Atakan took pictures from different frontal and side views of the statues. They tried to maneuver around to the rear, but fallen decking prevented them from getting in behind the three main figures. Like palace guards, the goddesses protected the last unexplored section. Was it intentional? Charlotte let her imagination run wild with speculation. She checked her watch and held up two fingers for Atakan. They had to finish and surface.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“Do you agree the goddesses represent the Judgment of Paris?” Charlotte stripped off her wetsuit, laid it on the narrow portside bench and grabbed a fresh towel from the stack.
Atakan took her wetsuit and his and hung them up along with their fins. “Yes. Everything, the famed goddesses with the added element of Eris and the apple point to that conclusion.” He grabbed a fresh towel and rubbed himself down.
“You know what I’m going to ask next.”
He nodded. “I never thought I’d say this but--” He gave her a long look, sighed, tossed his towel into the laundry basket and said, “Your theory might--might be right.”
“It tortured you to say that, I know.” For a fleeting moment, Charlotte considered doing a mini-happy dance for this hard won victory.
Atakan’s eyes narrowed as though he read her mind.
“However, there is a flaw.”
Charlotte threw her hands in the air. “I knew it. You couldn’t just say I might be right and leave it be.”
“I’m aware I’m a big bee kill.”
“Buzz kill, the phrase is buzz kill and you’ll get no argument from me.” Resigned to hearing this flaw she said, “Lay the flaw on me.”
“The Judgment of Paris is from the Iliad. The Iliad which was arguably written in the eighth or seventh century B.C.E. Call me pedantic, but I see a problem with the five century timeline gap between the war and the time frame this wreck is likely from, and the poem.”
She wanted to strangle him for being right. “There are a number of things I’d like to call you right now. Pedantic is way down the list.”
“While we’re on the subject, admit it, when you first saw the statue you thought Eris statue was a ghost,” Atakan teased.
“Did not.”
“Liar, you practically rocketed out of your wetsuit. Speaking for myself, I wouldn’t view that as a bad thing.”
The flattery of the last statement was so unexpected, Charlotte blinked several times, in surprise. She waited for the other shoe to drop, some smart ass comment from a man who found the idea of a sexy DVD of her laughable.
When it didn’t come, she asked hesitantly, “That sounded like a compliment.”
“It was.”
“Seriously? You weren’t joking?” she asked, still suspicious.
He looked puzzled. “No.”
“Wow. Thank you.” Take the compliment. Don’t say another word. “Did you have a good time in Bozburun last night?”
The question just popped out. She was morbidly curious. But, she never intended to ask. Rip your tongue out, right now.
“Yes.”
“Has Ermine been your girlfriend for a long time?” For God’s sake, shut up. She raised her eyes to the heavens. Strike me dumb, please.
“You mean have we been lovers a long time?”
“I...I...don’t know what I mean. Ignore me. I’m just making idle conversation.”
“The answer is no. Ermine’s sights are set on a higher goal than a simple field representative. We are, as you say, ‘ships passing.’”
“Does Ermine know that?” Charlotte said under her breath, matching the corners of her towel with precision. She concentrated on folding the damp towel into a perfect square. No one, including herself, had ever shown such interest in a towel destined for the hamper.
“Charlotte, are you jealous, by any chance?”
She tossed the cotton square into the laundry and risked looking over at Atakan. Bad move. He made a poor attempt to hid his amusement behind a straight face but wasn’t able to completely smother the smirk or the laughter in his eyes.
“Certainly not. We’re...colleagues...and friends. I’m merely making a...friendly inquiry.”
He lifted a brow.
“I am not jealous.”
“I’ve been weeks here in camp. Weeks.”
“Meaning?”
“I needed a break. I took a break.”
She waved her hand to get him to stop. “Enough said. I get the drift.”
“Come on, friend,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “Let’s get a cold drink.”
#
They shared a can of Pepsi on the Suraya’s bow as they waited for the shuttle boat. News of the statues had the next dive team, Talat and Uma, fired up to see if they could “discover” something equally cool. Atakan bet them twenty Euros they wouldn’t. They took the challenge and Uma upped the bet to forty which Charlotte and Atakan matched. Unless Talat and Uma found a way behind the statues, which they couldn’t at this point, they weren’t going to come up with a better find.
“What if they stumble onto the gold thingy we saw weeks ago?” Charlotte asked. “Before we entered the hold, I looked for it in the same vicinity. I didn’t see the glint of any metal.”
“I looked too.”
“Are we wrong about the location?”
Atakan thought for a moment. “No, it’s just buried in the sand.”
“We haven’t found any large gold relics yet. If that piece is evidence more exists, logically the rest is inside the blocked section.”
“You’re leaping to a false conclusion. A single item of gold is not indicative of more. A solitary piece might’ve belonged to a rich passenger,” he said.
“What about the ornamental daggers and sword? What solo passenger carries such a large number of decorative weapons?”
“The point is moot. The relic has dozens of possibilities. Whether it and the other pieces belong to citizens or envoys still doesn’t prove the existence of more gold.”
“Hypothetically, let’s say there’s something about the piece that suggests greater treasure,” she continued. “Will you hear me out and give me an objective answer?”
He nodded, looking reluctant to go along.
“Refik’s removed much of the collapsed deck over the amphoras without bringing experts. Think we can convince him to remove the rest? Be objective.”
“By the rest, you mean the section over the statues.”
“Yes, but the statues too so we can access all the hold.”
“I doubt it,” Atakan said. “Given the instability of the stern, you need to find something of similar weight as the statues combined to serve as a counter balance. I don’t know where we’d find what we need. If you could locate other heavy material, we’d have to swap the material for the statues.”
Atakan paused, as he mentally worked out the logistics. It didn’t take him long to assess the situation. He shook his head and said, “You can’t accomplish the exchange within a safe time frame. However long it took, during the operation everyone involved would be at risk.”
Charlotte calculated the danger versus the importance of what might lay within, unhappy with Atakan’s explanation.
His phone rang. She rose to leave and give him privacy.
He hooked a hand under her upper arm a
nd stopped her as he listened.
“Give me the details,” he said.
He stared at Charlotte, serious concern in his eyes. She’d seen the look one other time, when they first talked together in Santorini. After the news of Ekrem’s death, she was at a loss to think what else would affect him in the same way.
“I will tell her,” he said and disconnected.
“What happened?”
“They found Heather. Dead.”
“Oh, my god.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
“Not so loud,” Atakan said.
Her voice carried. From his position on the dive platform, Talat caught Atakan’s eye and raised his hands out, palms up and mouthed “need me.”
Atakan shook his head and urged Charlotte into the waiting shuttle boat.
“How?” she asked, stepping over the empty delivery baskets that littered the boat. “How?” she repeated when he didn’t respond.
“Shh, we’ll talk when we’re alone.”
Atakan led her to the kitchen after they docked, verifying no one was there before entering. He wanted privacy. Even the limited information couldn’t be leaked. Director Firat gave him the grim details from the autopsy. He’d reveal only what was necessary to satisfy her questions.
He brought two bottles of spring water from the refrigerator over to the table where she sat. He unscrewed the cap of one and held it out to her.
She held the bottle on her lap. “You’ve dealt with Tischenko. You said she’d survive.”
“I regret the error in my analysis,” Atakan sighed as he sat. “I based my belief on my knowledge of the man and the time frame. Sadly, knowledge and my experience failed.”
“Why kill her?”
Charlotte looked for answers he didn’t have.
“You said, once Tischenko realized she wasn’t useful to him, he’d rape and abuse her, but ultimately release her. How could you be so wrong?”
The denunciation stung and he had no adequate defense. “What would you have me say? I’m a man. I’m not infallible.”
He took her silence as condemnation. “I’ll go,” he said, standing.
“Don’t...don’t leave, please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please, sit.” She patted the bench next to her.
“Speak your mind, if you think it helps. But know your anger with me cannot change what’s happened,” he said, still standing.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to get shitty. I’m venting and taking it out on you.”
Atakan sat.
“I’d like to know the details,” she said.
“It is better you don’t.”
“I can take the truth. Cop’s daughter and sister, remember.”
He contemplated if he should tell her more. She was resilient. A less flattering adjective would be steely. Surrounded by men and working in a tough environment, steely was good. She faced down his anger when she thought she was under arrest. Nor did she use her sex to garner sympathy like many women he’d interrogated. He respected her for it, but he’d stay to his original plan and offer only the basic details.
“Her body was recovered in Ankara, dumped at the gates of a Minister of Parliament’s home.”
“The Minister is Ekrem’s father, Mustafa isn’t it?”
He nodded, surprised she’d come to the correct conclusion with so little information.
She took a large swallow of water, looking lost in thought. He wondered what was going through her mind.
“Although the events occurred separately, I think it’s misleading to accept them in that context,” she said. “Viewing the bigger picture, they were killed as a couple. If you ask me, that’s your motive.”
“Go on.” He didn’t see the connection.
“The gulet attack was never about Ekrem’s work but the two of them. The part I don’t get is why. Who hated them equally?”
“I can think of no one.” The twist mystified him too. He suspected Heather’s murder was done as a diversion.
He approached Ekrem’s murder with two theories. The first was retaliation. Atakan had read through all Ekrem’s files on the USB drive the Ministry sent. No one Ekrem investigated or arrested stood out as a viable suspect. Most of the men and occasional woman he sent to prison were indigent opportunists. They weren’t the type of thieves who hired a Tischenko or who’d be acquainted with mutual contacts of his. The ones who had the financial ability were accounted for.
The second theory offered the strongest motive for both murders. To a private collector, all sites were potential targets of interest. Manpower shortages mandated the jobs with special unit investigators were limited to sites with the rarest of high value artifacts. By identifying the men who presented the toughest security, a black marketer could track those prized locations. It’s possible someone thought Ekrem told Heather who worked the unit. Atakan knew it wasn’t something Ekrem would’ve discussed with her though, not in detail. Torturing Heather gave them nothing. The fact they killed her trying to obtain the information meant a criminal organization had specific acquisitions in mind.
As much as Atakan wanted to support the second theory, one unanswered question kept running through his mind. Why kill Ekrem? The murder didn’t fit. Logically, they would’ve ambushed and interrogated Ekrem the way they did Heather and then killed him.
Charlotte’s suggestion they were targeted as a couple wasn’t impossible but highly improbable. He couldn’t dismiss it completely either. However slim, it had a shred of merit. It also left unanswered questions. Assuming the murders had nothing to do with the first two theories Charlotte’s theory still didn’t explain why they dumped Heather’s body on Mustafa Zeren’s doorstep. Over and over, he analyzed the event unable to find a reason. He had no clues, no indicators of motive, and no direction as to leads for leaving her there. For the sake of expedience, he dismissed the idea and concentrated on the first two theories.
“How did she die?” Charlotte asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“Drowned.”
“Freshwater or saltwater? The autopsy will tell if it was Black Sea water.”
He gave a deep sigh as he listened, anticipating where her questions were leading. In the back of his mind he wondered why nothing ever goes as planned. He prepared to answer what he thought she’d ask. He ran the series of questions he expected in his head on the shuttle boat.
Was she tortured? Did her death come swiftly once they realized she didn’t have any information? She wasn’t taunted and psychologically terrorized the entire time?
Could she stick with his planned scenario? No. She had to jump in with pathology results. He dreaded what was next. She’d play detective. She’d treat the case with the eye of a scientist and lay the evidence out in her imagination like recovered artifacts. Because of her family, she possessed general knowledge of criminal investigation. She’d want to discuss the matter in a mutual exchange of ideas, exactly like she was now. Anything he said would get reported back to her father and brother, who’d undoubtedly voice an opinion on it. Neither he, nor the Ministry, desired unsolicited commentary. He’d need to find a way to avoid those conversations. A task he feared was doomed to failure.
“They have conducted the autopsy, haven’t they?”
“Yes. It’s Black Sea water.” He answered her next questions before she asked. “Yes, we’ll intensify the hunt for Tischenko. But, he’s only the executioner. The person behind these acts remains a mystery.”
“Do you think my idea the murders are related to them as a couple has legs?”
“I hope not.”
“You never believe any of my theories.”
“I only know two, this one, and your Hektor is a real man one. You’re right. I don’t believe either,” he said.
“I’m telling you how I see it anyway. You assumed from the start the crimes are connected to his job. You concluded Tischenko took Heather to pry info out of her. I think you went wrong from Jump Street.”
&n
bsp; “Jump Street?”
“Forget that. The important point is if it was info he and his employer sought, they’d have taken Ekrem.”
“I came to the same conclusion,” he reluctantly admitted. “That doesn’t mean--”
“I’m not finished. His employer is someone who obviously knew them both. He knew about the gulet trip. He knew where Heather lived. More important, he dumped her on Mustafa’s doorstep so he knew Ekrem’s family background.” Charlotte paused and he read the coming of another bizarre angle in her widened eyes. “Maybe it’s not a ‘he.’ A woman can hire a killer too. You might be looking for a spurned lover of Ekrem’s.”
“This is not an American television show. There’s no other woman, no female Ekrem kept as a lover who got jealous and contracted Tischenko.”
“You missed the whole point,” she said with some impatience. “I’m saying man or woman, either is possible. I am trying to get you to see the killings from a different perspective.”
“I’m certain this is about his position. Using your theory, whoever wanted them dead could’ve killed them weeks ago when the Zeren family announced their engagement.”
“Which goes to establishing my suspicion.”
“How?”
“The boat was attacked the weekend after the engagement was publicly announced. A fact the Ministry’s ignored.”
She wasn’t wrong about the official direction. He still didn’t view her theory as seriously viable. But, what if the investigation had taken the wrong path? He had to think about it for a minute.
“Well?”
“I’m thinking.” Her theory was too weak compared to the others. “No, what’s going on revolves around Ekrem’s job,” he said.
“That still doesn’t explain torturing Heather for info and not him.”
“Forget her for the moment.”
“What? You can’t forget a secondary victim who’s connected to the first.”
She was playing detective. Atakan cursed his luck.
“I am setting her aside for the moment. Let’s say, it wasn’t information based. What if it was in retaliation? Moored in the smaller marina, Ekrem was an easier target than in the village, thus the gulet attack.”
Golden Chariot Page 19
