“What did you think?” Charlotte asked.
They stepped outside the market’s arched waterside entrance and walked to the taxi stand. The parked cabs sat empty with the windows open. The hot afternoon sun beat down on the square. All the drivers had taken refuge on the shaded stairs of the Yeni Mosque.
“It was very nice. I liked it.” Blinking, her mother put on her sunglasses.
That was a pleasant surprise. Charlotte thought the best she’d get was, “it’s all right” or the noncommittal, “it’s different.” It’s different was her mother’s code for, “I hate it.”
They’d eaten at Pandeli, one of Charlotte’s favorite restaurants. Her mother hesitated to enter the tucked away restaurant. She questioned their safety as Charlotte led her up the hidden stairs off the entrance to the busy Spice Market.
“Pandeli is a very popular spot with excellent Ottoman cuisine. We’re fine. Trust me.”
When they approached the first taxi in line, a middle-aged man called out “merhaba” and waved. A dozen pigeons flapped their wings and hopped out of his path as he jogged over.
Charlotte gave him her mother’s destination in Turkish.
Her mother climbed into the taxi and then motioned her to bend closer. She glanced sideways at the driver and tilted her purse so Charlotte could see inside. In the side pocket, she had a wad of mixed money.
“What’s the exchange difference between Lira and Euros again?”
Charlotte explained and asked, “Can I borrow a hundred Euros?”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll give you as much as you need.”
“No, I’ll pay you back later in the week.”
“If you wanted something, you should’ve told me and I’d have bought what you liked.”
“This is just a loan for walking around money.”
Her mother handed her the Euros and they arranged to meet in two days for dinner.
Charlotte waited at the curb until the car was out of sight then returned to the market. She’d seen something special she wanted and didn’t need her mother around when she bought it.
“Which do you like, lady?” The shop keeper smiled and waved a hand at the various styles and colors he offered.
“The red one in the front.”
He used a long pole with a hooked end to snag the hanger and bring her choice down from the display. Two couples of older tourists stopped to watch, eyeing the outfit, then Charlotte.
“You aren’t really going to wear that?” one of the women asked in a strong Boston accent.
“If it fits, definitely.”
The woman looked surprised. “You’re an American.”
Charlotte nodded.
“I’d have guessed something else,” the woman said and then walked away with her friend. The men gave Charlotte the once over. One winked and they trailed after their wives.
“Do you have a place I can try this on?”
The merchant pointed to a beaded curtain at the back of the store which offered little cover from view.
Charlotte parted the beads and undressed.
Chapter Eighty
Charlotte slipped off into the bedroom. Atakan had stretched out on the sofa. He was absorbed in a close match between two local soccer teams on television.
She dressed with one ear toward the living room, listening for him to get up and interrupt her. The plan required surprise.
She’d chosen the red costume because it rode the lowest on the hips. She adjusted the harem outfit to fit her exactly how she envisioned. It took a couple of tries working the top for maximum cleavage exposure. The bustier, a spangled bra-like piece was made to lift and separate the wearer’s boobs. Not the effect she wanted. Bending at the waist, she hauled, and pulled, and tugged, until those babies looked like two ripe peaches collided.
The bottom went on and fit like she was born to wear it. While Atakan was at work, she’d taken manicure scissors to the attached satin panty and cut it away. No place for modesty in her plan. Now, the bottom consisted of a belt of sequined rows and one of gold coins. The skirt was layered chiffon panels slit up to her thighs. A metallic ribbon of gold and silver threads banded the panel’s edges.
She turned her back to the mirror and watching over her shoulder, gave her tush a couple of shakes. She shimmied faster, liking the way the coins jingled and sparkled in the light. She added some hip action with a couple of rolling figure eight moves. She loved the way the bright ribbon embellishment looked iridescent as she swayed.
Charlotte closed the door to the bathroom to do the last. The final touch was the veil and headpiece. The headpiece had a band of red velvet and an attached sheer red veil to her shoulders. One row of shisha mirrors, two rows of tiny chains and beads dripped from the velvet band to her eyebrows. She fixed the headpiece so it sat straight and then hooked the veil that covered her nose and mouth over her ears. She tipped her head from side-to-side, then up and down. She experimented to see which angle bounced the most light off the shishas.
She turned and examined herself in the mirror and gave her hips a few shakes again. The coins tinkled nicely when she managed to roll her hips and make her belly vibrate at the same time. She practiced the move several times until she was confident she had it down.
Looking good.
She pulled the Suhaila Salimpour’s belly dance CD she bought at the shop from her purse and opened the bedroom door a crack. Atakan was still on the sofa, holding a beer that rested on his stomach.
“Atakan, I have a surprise. Put the remote on mute and close your eyes.”
“Now? My team is in scoring position.”
“Yes, now.”
He mumbled something she didn’t hear and it took him a few seconds to do what she asked.
Silence came from the living room.
“Are your eyes closed?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte tiptoed out, careful not to make the coin belt jingle. She put the CD on and fast forwarded to the haunting melody, “The Capture.” The song started. Charlotte picked up the rhythm. She’d practiced dancing earlier in the afternoon too.
“You can open your eyes now.”
Atakan stared for a long moment as she slowly moved his direction. He looked her up and down, and up and down again, before his gaze landed on the coins that tinkled and danced low on her hips. He swung his legs around and sat straight.
She edged forward, to within arms reach.
The beat increased.
Atakan’s gaze moved to her eyes. “Dance closer.”
She did.
He wrapped his hands around her hips and drew her onto his lap. She straddled him, slowing the rhythm of her movements, exaggerating the hip action. He removed the veil and pulled her head down to kiss her.
Against his lips, she whispered, “Sultan...”
Chapter Eighty-One
Charlotte looked forward to seeing where Atakan worked. She envisioned something ornate, like the Ottoman style buildings along the Bosphorus.
Ironically, the building that housed the Istanbul division of the Ministry of Culture reflected none of the country’s varied architecture. The nondescript ten story structure could’ve been a government building in dozens of different countries. Situated on a side street off Taksim Square, it had a view of nothing noteworthy. The view out or down was the same, business rooftops and congested traffic.
Charlotte, Nick, her father, and stepmother Roni, signed the visitor’s log and took the elevator to the top. The entire floor belonged to the Ministry. They followed Atakan’s directions to his area, passing several offices on the way.
“How’s my hair?” Charlotte smoothed the sides where the wind had blown it around.
“Your hair is fine. You look great, Case,” Roni said.
“Does my lipstick still shine?”
“Yes.”
“What about my dress? Did I get too wrinkled in the taxi?”
Roni smiled. “I think I see what’s going on with you.” She tapped Char
lotte’s father’s arm. “Pete, wait here. Give us a moment.”
Roni and Charlotte stepped a few feet away, out of earshot.
“Why are you so nervous? Atakan’s seen you looking sweaty and gritty, and wet, and without makeup. The man is genuinely attracted to you. That was evident the other night when we met. Where is this anxiety coming from?”
“As you pointed out, he’s only seen me messed up, or ugged up. He’s never seen me prettied up. I want to make an impression.”
With that objective, the day before she’s shopped for and found the perfect dress. The elegant but simple off the shoulder sheath of sapphire blue silk hugged her statuesque frame. When she moved, the acetate lining rustled softly against the silk. So, feminine, Charlotte thought, walking from mirror to mirror in the dressing room, listening to the whisper of material.
She searched and found a pair of leather, open-toed heels that matched the blue of the dress and didn’t hurt her feet. She hated painful shoes, no matter how sexy they looked. She’d pampered herself with a manicure and pedicure at the Four Seasons salon. There was a flash of cherry red now where her toes peeked out. A flirty touch. Her short fingernails weren’t suited for red and went with the pale pink the manicurist suggested.
That morning, she’d applied multiple layers of Dior’s Noir mascara. She’d purchased three different lipsticks at the salon. She tried and wiped off each before settling on a light berry shade. Naked, she misted herself with Guerlain’s oriental scented perfume, Samsara.
“Trust me, Case, you’ve nothing to worry about. He’ll all but drool when he sees you,” Roni said, hugging her.
They joined her father and Nick and continued on.
“Charlotte,” a woman’s voice called out.
She stopped and turned as Ermine stepped into the hall.
“Ermine, how nice to see you again.”
The possibility she’d encounter Ermine had occurred to her. A chance meeting wasn’t a worry anymore. Atakan made it clear his limited interest in Ermine was over. Not to mention, this time Charlotte wasn’t looking like something that washed up on the beach.
Charlotte introduced Ermine to her family.
“I assume you’re here to see Atakan. I’ll take you to his office.” Ermine led the group towards the end of the corridor. “I heard you are staying with him,” she said as they walked.
If Atakan told her she would’ve said so. She was fishing.
“You don’t work in the same office? I thought you were a secretary in his sector,” Charlotte said, dodging a direct response to Ermine’s statement.
“I’m no secretary. I am the supervisor of the financial division. I have a university degree in mathematics.”
“My apologies. I stand corrected.” She really hadn’t meant to insult the woman.
Ermine brought them into a large room with rows of desks. All had files and paperwork piled to the side, but no one was around.
“During the summer season most of our representatives are in the field,” Ermine explained.
She motioned to the back room partitioned off by a half wall with shuttered glass windows. “The investigative unit.” She turned to Charlotte’s family and wished them a “good visit in Turkey,” then left.
The office Atakan shared had six desks. Five were stacked high with books on art, pottery, religious symbols, and ancient civilizations. File folders and photos of artifacts shared the leftover space with computers and personal items. One desk was empty except for the nameplate, Ekrem Zeren.
Atakan stood when they entered and greeted them looking every bit the polished professional. He wore a black suit of Italian wool, expertly tailored to his swimmer’s build and a glacial white shirt. His black and gold paisley tie was the perfect striking addition to the stark conservative suit.
Atakan came around the desk. His straight hair was combed back, revealing a smooth wide forehead remarkably undamaged by the sun. He shook hands with her father and Nick and gave Roni a single head bow. Then, moving to join Charlotte, he took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek.
“You look especially lovely today.”
“I hoped you’d notice.”
“Always.”
Iskender glanced up from his monitor. He rose and came over to her.
“Miss Dashiell, how good to see you. Atakan tells us you’re well.”
Charlotte’s cheeks heated seeing Iskender again. The last time he saw her, she was naked on Tischenko’s bed.
“I’m doing very well, thank you.”
“Please, let me introduce your family to our Istanbul team,” Atakan said. “This is Iskender.” He gestured to the others at their desks. “Halim, Cengis, and Erten.”
“Where’s Ates?” Charlotte asked.
“He’s in court with the paperwork on Ursula and Abassian. He’s still assigned the other unit but will be transferring next week to replace Ekrem.”
“They were with Atakan in the Ukraine helping to rescue me,” Charlotte told her father.
“Our family owes you a deep debt of thanks. I’d like to extend an invitation to all of you to visit us in Chicago as our guests,” he said.
“You come to Chicago and I guarantee I’ll show you a fun time,” Nick added and handed each is business card.
“Allow me to show you some of the nature of our work.” Atakan stepped to a large Google Earth map of Turkey on the wall. Colored push pins dotted every region of the country.
“The green pins are known archaeological sites. Ones with current excavation projects are in blue. The black pins are sites organizations have petitioned the Ministry for permission to work.”
“What about the red and purple pins?” Charlotte asked.
“The red are sites already heavily damaged by looters. The purple are sites in grave danger of being plundered. There’s little we can do about the purple or red ones,” Atakan said, gravely.
“Lack of money and manpower, right,” Roni said. “How unfortunate.”
Atakan nodded and moved to a bulletin board. “Here we post the latest information from Interpol and other agencies. We track the known smugglers and their past or potential buyers. As you see, several terrorist organizations are listed. The sales of stolen artifacts are one of a number of illegal activities they generate funds from.”
“We check eBay daily too.” Iskender angled his computer monitor so they could see the screen. He flipped through pages of everything from fossils to rare coins to artifacts for sale.
“It doesn’t dawn on thieves selling illegal items, we have the Internet.”
“Fascinating work. It’s an education seeing how serious the looting situation is and how difficult it is to control,” her father said.
He moved away back toward Atakan’s desk.
“I’d like to talk about Tischenko,” he told Atakan.
“Please sit. What would you like to know?”
“Charlotte tells us, he escaped.”
“Yes. The Ukrainian police searched the woods on foot and with helicopters. He grew up in the area and knows the forest better than the authorities. We believe he had a cache with money and probably a different passport buried nearby. A man like him usually does.
“We think he managed to enter Russia. Interpol will send a bulletin if he enters the EU countries.”
“Russia is on the Interpol network too,” her father said.
“The Russians interact with Interpol when it suits them. In their eyes, Tischenko is a brother. He fought with them in Chechnya. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to get through passport control there. He gives the guards a couple bottles of vodka. He talks about the old days. They laugh, they smoke, and they wave him through. From Moscow, he can go to ground in many places.”
“The bastard’s likely sitting on the beach in Cuba or Venezuela waiting for things to quiet down,” Nick said.
“Do you think he’ll come after my daughter again?”
“No. Kryianos is dead. With no one paying him, he had no reas
on to pursue her.”
“You said the Greeks had a theory why he killed Ekrem and Heather.” Charlotte was curious. “Did you hear yet?”
“Yes, this morning,” Atakan said. “They found pictures of Ekrem and Heather at Kryianos’s office. They also found a diary that belonged to his dead daughter.”
“Let me guess, revenge?” Charlotte asked.
Atakan nodded. “They speculate Kryianos blamed Ekrem for her death. When he ended their relationship, it triggered her suicide. He hated Heather too, because Ekrem’s father approved of her.”
Atakan tidied paperwork on his desk and refused to make eye contact with her as he spoke.
“You know...” Charlotte smiled at Atakan, enjoying his discomfort. “As I recall, the theory they were killed because someone had an issue with them personally was presented. But, at the time, that theory was shot down.”
“Many ideas are floated during an investigation, as I’m sure your father and brother can tell you.” Atakan shot her a don’t say it look.
“That’s true, Case,” Nick chimed in.
“Kryianos’s phone records revealed several calls from Mr. Snow’s business partner, Aaron Waterman. Charlotte is aware of this and I’ve advised the Snows,” Atakan said.
“I spoke to Frank. He’s dissolving their partnership,” Charlotte said.
“The American authorities interviewed Waterman. He stated they were negotiating the sale of part of Kryianos’s collection. We are satisfied with his explanation and that he knew nothing of Kryianos’s activities here,” Atakan said.
“Sounds reasonable to me,” he father said.
Atakan turned to Roni and Charlotte. “If you’re ready, Iskender and I are pleased to show you the famous city sights. We’ll start with Topkapi Palace. We’ll visit the storage rooms first where many more treasures not seen by the public are kept.”
Everyone stood to leave. Atakan pulled Charlotte aside. “Good news. Once your family returns home, you and I leave for Bozburun. Refik felt guilty after your incident. By way of apology, he’s saving entry into the last section for you.”
“We will join you directly,” Iskender said as Charlotte and her family stepped into the outer office. “Atakan, a moment please.”
Golden Chariot Page 31
